#wolfling wips

[ohwolfling]

hello, yes, i am writing the second grade Taylor family ft/ Shauna Shipman trip to Hilton Head tysm

[ohwolfling]

someone yell at me to finish these silverv one-offs (mikoshi angst + transhumanist mirror smut, respectively)

my ao3 for what i have actually published in this life

[ohwolfling]

Gale Dinner

thinking about that post about Gale and dinner and domestic life and so natch I'm working on making it both tender and horny. very, very rough, first go at a bit of it, about 600 words. Feed my little ego so I can trick myself into finishing it.

“So what's for dinner?”

The question had made him blush. She was teasing, he knew, but the casual coolness of it, the way she said it like dinner was a guarantee, a daily practice. No… as if it were their daily practice. Macha going off with hammer and heart to make the world a little bit safer, knowing she would come home to find Gale over a cookpot, wanting to look forward to that cookpot, to the fire it rested over, and, he hoped, the man doing the cooking. It was a rare moment of silence for Gale.

“Oh, apologies,” Macha glanced down at the scratch paper Gale had been writing on. “Were you counting in your head? Did I ruin your task?”

“No,” Gale laughed. “Not at all. I… well, what would you like for dinner?”

“Surprise me.”

“Macha,” Gale stood then to match her, “do you think that I should be in charge of surprising anyone?”

He had pulled her hand to his chest then, just over the prominent scar of the Netherese orb within his chest. Gale was not yet in full robes, standing in only fresh trousers and a still untucked linen cream shirt. So when he pulled her hand close he had unintentionally placed her fingers against his bare chest. 

Macha laughed hard, not moving her hand. When the cackle left her, bright and warm, her eyes traced over his chest. Gently, she traced the lines the orb had carved into him, her thumb acting as an anchor for her exploration, pressed not ungently over his breastbone.

“Maybe not,” she smiled sadly.

Gale removed his hand from over Macha’s so she could move away. She didn’t. Instead, her hand turned and she traced her knuckles through the circumference of the orb’s mark, hand unfurling to fingertips as she ran them up and along the orb’s sinister tendril’s, her hand nearly wrapping around his throat. 

“Does it hurt?”

She was nearly whispering. 

“It’s… sensitive,” he found himself near a whisper back. “But the touch doesn’t hurt, persay.”

“I should’ve asked that before,” she drops her hand and backs away. As she does, Gale feels like the muscle of his chest is going with her. The distance between them tugs and pulls. The space grows cold. 

“I don’t mind. Who would I be… to set propriety before curiosity? A hypocrite.”

“Can’t have that.”

“Certainly not. Mystra’s dog no longer come to heel, disgraced, forsaken, cast out. A ruin. You can trade on that.  But a hypocrite?”

“It would be quite the scandal.”

“Exactly! You get it. There’s the line!”

They laugh together and the moment is charged somehow. Gale wanted so desperately to tell himself the moment of magic they shared was some fluke, perhaps even some cruel joke by Mystra. But Macha had asked him about it directly the next morning, hoping she had not crossed some line. And now…

What was here now? Attraction? Kinship? A once-in-a-lifetime immediate bond? Confusing a shared near death experience for all of the above?

It has to be real, he thinks.

He matches her glance, her brown eyes warm, deep, and effervescent where his might be reflective, ever changing, and ethereal. They hold something for me. 

The moment is interrupted by Lae’zel calling for Macha.

“So save me dessert.”

“How do you mean?”

“You make dinner with whatever we have. I’ll return with ingredients from my time out there.”

“A challenge.”

“Yes. I hear you like those.” 

Macha’s eyes trace the full length of Gale’s body as she licks her lips and laughs at her own joke.

“I do, Macha. I really do.” 

[ohwolfling]

please god grant me the brain cell to finish this rhaenicent smut fic (vibes)

[ohwolfling]

For the WIP fics - I'm dying to hear about Gale Mysta Unpack. Will Gale ever fully come to terms with how toxic Mystra was??

First, a little piece of fic (very, very rough):

There was no before Mystra.  For as long as he could remember he had been in pain. Always, that pain. That terrible empty feeling, buzzing and gnawing.  “When she first touched me, it didn't calm me. It’s not that that inner gnawing ever went away… More… It seemed a way for me to finally know I was pleasing her. That I had a purpose.”

I'm approaching this- and honestly, every facet of the systemic trauma in BG3- with my own trauma informed lens, informed by lived experience. With complex trauma, I don't think it's ever over. BUT I think that's okay. As much as I love the transformative power of found family and finding your tag team partner amidst the worst circumstances of your life, I think that Gale will spend A LOT OF TIME falling apart.

Gale is very loving and tactile seeking, but in lived experience he practically does not know how to love or be loved. His folly was chasing the idea of worthiness, of equality, and then you see it wind it's way into god of ambition if left unchecked, with the primary idea that he could be a god better, that if he becomes what the people who hurt him are, he'd do it better.

I want to explore what that looks like. Especially because I personally don't relate very much to Gale actually. I'm very different to that archetype and that mechanism of coping, etc. But I have been very moved by people who DO who found meaning in these little angst/comfort trauma informed smut pieces I've written. So maybe I can take what I do know about trauma, how it works, put myself in his narrative space, and do a little rougher work for somone by proxy that way.

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