#by mystra it’s the color of the weave

[vyncentevelyn]

#bg3 #bg3 memes #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #by mystra it’s the color of the weave #i will await you at camp and while I do I will whip up a fantastic stew #purple for life #gale deserves them #the weave #hi #im gale #this is how gale be cooking a fish head a dry pork loin found in a random chest and some tomatoes

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexFemYou Boat Scene 18+

Summary: FemReaderxGale NSFW 18+ on the boat in the astral plane after you and Gale discuss the crown. Tried to be a little slower and tender in this one. Done at the request of another, thank you for the idea! :) Content: Explicit and slow piv sex, Minors DNI!

Master List | Read on Ao3

“I don’t think I deserve you at times - I told you of my ambitions, the likes of which many would baulk at - and yet, you remain at my side. Permit me to show you something, please? Indulge me - a little boat voyage, that’s all.” 

Despite your hesitation, you obliged - Gale meant more than words could express and you knew you’d do whatever you needed to help him see that. 

“Astra navigabimus.” As he uttered the words, you felt your consciousness and body shift, pulling away from the material plane and cast elsewhere. It was jarring and surreal, yet you kept your eyes shut, trusting Gale implicitly. 

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see,” Gale said in a husky, quiet voice as his warm hand engulfed yours. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m here with you. Open your eyes.” 

You inhaled, the air around you a chilled mist. Goosebumps undulated across your skin as your eyes fluttered open, absorbing the impossible swirls of purple and blue iridescence that surrounded you. As you drift on the small wooden boat, your fingers lithely traced the air, trying to capture the gossamer fog. 

You turned to Gale, his face bright and the impossible colors swirled in his dark eyes. “The outer planes… this is where gods dwell. Where they observe us from afar. Where they make play things of us.” He frowned, gesturing to the skies, “They would keep all of this from us - the power, the possibilities. They only want us to serve them, pray to them… die for them. What if we didn’t need them and welded their power instead to help ourselves in all the ways they refuse to?” Gale’s voice was thick with anticipation and delirium, “I could make that happen. I could make this illusion a reality… with you by my side.” 

You froze, gripped by the possibility of what he offered. You’d be lying if you said the thought wasn’t tantalizing… yet, as he sat here before you, pleading and desperate for approval, you knew that Gale - the man before you - was enough. He would always be enough. When was the last time he’d been told that?

Had he ever been told? 

“I don’t need the stars, Gale,” you laced your fingers with his and brought his palm to your lips, brushing them against the skin. “I have you.” 

Your romantic gesture fell on deaf ears as Gale insisted: “Then have me, but have the best, possible version of me. The tadpole, the orb, these threats to our existence, the gods could aid us if they wished and instead they cower behind Ao. With the power of the crown, any foe would be rendered impotent, any obstacle dwarfed by our might.” Gale sighed, clutching your hands like a penitent seeking redemption. “I used to believe Mystra was worth dying for. I was wrong. You showed me how much I have to live for. With you, I forget my goddess.” Your heart thrummed violently, threatening to jump from your throat and your body instinctively began to scoot forward, craving him. “I love you. Tell me you feel the same, that you want what I want… please..” Gale’s voice broke and you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and rested your forehead to his. 

“I love you for the man you are,” you said, brushing your lips tenderly to his and he shuddered, emitting a gentle groan. Your knees were flush to his and you moved forward, chasing the adrenaline that flowed through your veins like a raging river. 

“Think of what I offer, the vastness of eternity, the Weave at our fingertips… you’d really prefer me as I am?” Gale looked into your eyes, the dark pools beseeching earnestly for your truth. Could you mean it? 

“You’re everything I need you to be,” you murmured before allowing your fingers to twine into his hair, pulling him close as your lips captured his. His gentle moan ignited the blaze within you and you feel the heat between your thighs stir. 

Gale returned your kiss passionately, hungrily, a man starved with disbelief that mortality would be enough. “I hope you’re right. Godly power I can live without but you - you’re everything.” His hands ran up your thighs, brushing against the soft skin and teasingly trailed closer to the source of your desire. “You put the stars to shame… let’s sit here awhile, I want to drink you in.” He brushed his tongue across your lower lip before he sought entrance, your tongues gliding together in the familiar wonton dance. He tasted faintly of earl gray and something rich - perhaps a lingering flavor of the nights meal. 

Your bodies entangled with familiarity, and you felt Gale’s smirk widen against your lips. He pulled back for a moment to caress your cheek and rested his forehead to yours, “Would you be opposed to staying here a bit longer?” He murmured as his fingers traced the edge of your shirt, tickling your torso beneath. You shivered, feeling the electricity burn and you whimpered as his cool hands pulled the shirt over your head. He licked his lips as his eyes consumed you, his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. You shook your head, the bitter mist shrouding you as heat swelled in your center. 

Gale leaned forward, his lips brushing against the freckles that littered your shoulder and your hands trailed under his shirt, lifting. He obliged, leaning backward as you slowly pulled his shirt off. Typically, Gale and you would ravage one another if given the opportunity. 

Tonight, though, felt different. You craved him tenderly, wanting each moment to be a standalone symphony. You traced the orb, how its tendrils licked up his neck and brought your lips to the pattern. He sighed, pulling you closer to him and the seats of the boat seemed to de-materialize as you and Gale stared at one another, admiring. 

A plush blanket appeared beneath you and you rose a brow curiously as your fingers ran over the sensual fabric. Gale wrapped his arms around your torso to pull you into his lap. Your legs circled his waist and you cupped his face in yours, allowing your lips to meet in a supple, painfully slow kiss. You moaned as his tongue sought yours, as he slipped it into your mouth greedily, your hips rolling against his for friction. You felt the girth between his thighs stir as your hips rocked and you pressed yourself tighter to him as the kiss deepened. The carnal need grew, rooted in your core as the lustful dance began. 

Gale’s lithe fingers hooked into the waist of your pants and you gasped, the iciness of his touch juxtaposing the primal heat pooling within you. He took his time unlacing your pants before pushing them unhurriedly down. His eyes flick down to your clothed sex and you heard him intake his breath sharply. Gale leaned forward, kissing you lecherously. Each move of his tongue was precise and painfully slow, and you felt your body begin to squirm impatiently. You felt him grin against your lips as he cupped your chin and pulled your face closer to his as his tongue indulged. 

Your fingers clumsily worked to remove his trousers and he chuckled, “Let me lend you a hand,” he said as his fingers grazed yours. He shook out of the pants and your eyes widened as you admired the firm tent pressed against his underwear. He guided your hand, slipping it beneath his underwear and he groaned as your fingers wrapped around his arousal. He was warm, firm and you felt a surge of dripping arousal soak your underwear. He groaned as your hand circled him and began to deftly pump, matching his agonizingly steady pace. His fingers sought entrance between the cloth of your undergarments and sex and trailed along your inner thigh, right where the seam met your skin. 

You mewled, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection glide against your covered arousal. Your hand worked quicker before his hand covered yours, his breath hot and quiet as he murmured, “Let’s take our time tonight…” Your body was desperate, wanted to move with a vicious urgency yet Gale continued with such excruciating gentleness. A light brush would likely be enough to send you off the cliff. 

His fingers found their way beneath your underwear and you squirmed, seeking him and friction. He chuckled darkly before slipping his fingers away, “The more impatient you are, the longer I’ll wait…” he teased and you leaned forward, biting into his neck. The sinful noise that fell from his lips sent another wave of arousal through you. 

“Gale, please,” you begged, your wetness seeping from your underwear and onto his, leaving evidence of your need. Gale traced your lips with his fingers and you shivered, licking the fingers before you before pulling them into your mouth. Gale groaned, his hips bucking upwards into you as you sucked on his fingers. “Touch me,” you whimpered against his fingers and he brought his slick hand into your underwear. 

“Rather needy tonight,” Gale teased again and he moaned as his fingers slipped between your folds, “Gods, how divine… how eager you are for me…” as he slid his fingers between your thighs you rolled your hips, whimpering again. His thumb circled your clit, the movements unrushed despite your protests. Gale kissed you again as you gripped his shaft, encircling him as you toyed with him, wanting to feel him inside of you. Gale, as if reading your mind, said, “Have you been patient enough?” 

You shook your head, moving your hips, deprived of his fingers. You felt him slip a few into you then, stretching you slowly and massaging you. The sudden entrance made you shudder violently and your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers pressing into his back as you moaned. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, biting down to stifle your unholy sounds. 

“No need to suppress yourself,” Gale murmured, pushing your hair back as he thrusted his fingers harder into you, forcing your body to tighten around him with arousal. “I want to hear you,” he demanded, pressing deeper into you and against the deepest source of your arousal. You cried out and bit down on his neck again. 

You lifted your hips, bringing them down onto his fingers and you mumbled against his neck, “I need you, I need more…” 

“Woe be it from me to deny you…” he murmured, pushing your underwear off your body and did the same to himself. He held himself for a moment, stabilizing as you brought your hips over his erection. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you gazed into his lustful, brown pools and felt him fill you. Your mouth watered as you brought yourself down deliberately only allowing the tip of him in. 

He whimpered, thrusting his hips up and you pulled back, smirking. “Why the rush?” You retorted and he growled, surrendering to you. You rolled your hips before bringing yourself fully over him, allowing him to stretch you full and welcomed him into your slick cunt. You both moaned as he filled you and he thrusted into you aggressively, gripping your hips. Your lips brush against his neck, his jaw, until your tongues are tangled again and he drove into you. Your bodies moved of their own accord now, both of you desperate for release and pleasure, the sensations overwhelming. Every fiber of your being thrummed with sin and you moved quicker, pulling him deeper into you and clenching around his erection. He moaned as you did, gripping your waist tighter, using his other hand to pull your hair back and kiss you. Sweat began to cover you both as your movements became carnal, needy - your breathing jagged and unsteady as you felt yourself swell with bliss and ecstasy. 

“I….” Gale moaned, the kiss sloppy and wet, “I… please…” his voice was raspy and deep as he thrusted violently into you and you cried out, begging for more, needing more. Abruptly he flipped you over so you were on your stomach, he hovering over you and pulled your hair back to kiss you. You moaned as you felt him enter you again from behind, your hips rolling backward to bring him further into you. He held your hair to steady himself, the pain from the pull overstimulating as he filled you. Your mouth was full of hot saliva and you whimpered as he grew more urgent, your bodies moving together in a steady, unholy rhythm. He pushed so hard against you that you felt a sharp pain and cried out, enough that he paused for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Are you alright?” And you nod, delirious from the pleasure, and you heard him whisper, “Come for me, then.” 

You press your face into the blanket and muffle your cries as he pumps deeper, harder, and his hand wraps in front of you for his thumb to circle your clit. It’s too much. You writhed and every cell in your body seized, tensing in preperation until you heard him groan gutturally, his hot climax filling you as your own climax roiled through you. The unadulterated bliss that pulsed through you was divine, both of your bodies moving in shared harmony, in your shared symphony of pleasure. Gale collapsed onto you, his lips pressing to your ear and neck as he murmured praises, how much he loved you, how much he adored you and when your breath returned to you, you rolled onto your back, cupping his face in your hands. “Mortality has its perks..” You murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as you smirked. 

Gale laughed, pulling you tighter to his chest, kissing your forehead. You settled into a comfortable silence, allowing the boat to rock you as you both marveled at how lucky you both were to have one another. “I can’t wait to explore your body a thousand more ways… eternity wouldn’t be enough for me.” 

#gale smut #gale bg3 smut #gale of waterdeepthroat #gale fanfic #gale kiss #gale angst #gale fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfic #gale x femreader

[pondering-gales-left-orb]

when people ask "why is Mystra bland and Shar and Vlaakith are MASSIVE AND SLAYING HARD?" i want to screem

Ugh if i see that post criticizing Mystra for looking average compared to Shar or vlaakith reblogged one more time Im gonna scream fchgcg do you guys not understand the difference ?

I didn't expect to wake up today and be a Mystra defense attorney but yall need your perspective to be ripped wide open

disclaimer: this only goes as deep as the game lore the actual lore the game is based on is much more expansive and goes into detail about everything im about to quickly explain so i recommend reading it.

So first off all lets redefine your understanding of what Mystra is ,

She is magic, she is the weave, the very fabric of the weave is Mystra, when gale reached out to the purple light and said he can feel her he was not kidding he was literally holding a tiny fraction of her in his hand

All of the scenes that include the astral sea? all the flashes of magic all the outer planes scenes ? All the colors and twinkling? the setting itself? all of it is Mystra

its not made by her it IS her

when my guy Gale said we stand in the palm of Mystra he wasn't being poetic he was being literal the very fabric of the illusion he conjures is Mystra not from her but is her

(on a side note Gale is pretty much very literal in his words and what he tells you but people always brush that off as some scholarly exaggeration for some reason which is another post tbh)

What did you guys think the meaning of magic dying with Mystra's death and her having be reborn 3 times to bring it back to stability?? Its not only because she controls it but because she *is* it.

When you look at Scene that have her or the weave do not only recognize Mystra as the face you see but include the background, the lights, the colors, the magic, everything, if its hard to visualize just imagine the weave and the weave plane as an extension of her dress all of it just the fabric of her dress going on and on and on making everything around her and Gale.

like notice how Mystra physically is not in these pics but she still is because every flash of purple is a thread of her being

here when you look at her you probably only see her "human form" but expand your understanding to see her as the weave behind her the sparkles, and stars, the weave rain around her, the very floor she is standing on, the sky she is floating around in

Now onto the second point:

Why do Shar and Vlaakith present as these all powerful terrifying massive beautiful entities when needing to converse with their followers and Mystra presents as a regular woman ?

There are alot of points i can touch on that will explain there are a 100 reasons

But the main ones are Shar and Vlaakith NEED to intimidate their followers into recognizing them (in other words put the fear of god and anime into the hearts of people that look to them) because without this fear that they inspire they have no influence, they need to convince anyone that lays eyes on them that they are powerful from the very first glance, their power and influence depend on how much people fear them into submission.along side looking ethereal and menacing Shar uses pain and Vlaakith uses false godhood and rewritten gith history to achieve that . that's why they are beautiful and fearsome and massive and their temples/creche's are massive and grand Vlaakith's being on the highest mountain in the tallest building and Shar's gauntlet and house of pain being the deepest underground Structure to exist to the point that its a bit unbelievable (to the point that i had to pan with my camera outside around the mountain to see if its even plausible fhdjd) all of this is supposed to inspire absolute fear and submission into anyone that walks in makes them feel small and dominated by the goddesses power in a single instant so they can instantly gain control over them.

What about Mystra? What do we see she has in comparison?

We see Mystra only has her alter where its used for communication because that's all she needs... She doesn't need to prove her power she doesn't need to make people fear her she doesn't need submission and domination she doesn't need to be recognized because any magic wielding entity can just look into themselves and feel her threads inside of them can look around and feel her presence that's all she needs. And when she communicates with her weave users (what would be considered as her followers but not really) she needs to present an equal footing to them not a dominant one because she needs to discuss things, to reason, to convince them, not only because they are smart and powerful with or without her but because she has no say in what they do with the weave (as long as it doesn't ruin the balance) she cannot stop them or take it from them but she can persuade them to go a certain direction that's the extent of it. And that's why her alignment is neutral instead of evil even though we know she doesn't have the best actions and methods but she doesn't need to hurt people to gain power she simply... Is... And that gives her her power. (another side note this is also gale cant simply stop believing in her or abandon her worship or take of his earnings etc its not that simple as she is in the air he breathes yk)

#dont get me wrong i still wanna punch her in the face but -her- is not what we think she is yk #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #orb reblogs.exe #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 shar #bg3 Vlaakith #Vlaakith #shar #mystra #bg3 mystra

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

“Papa and Tara” Oil Paint on Canvas, 1499 DR

Gif credit to @gale-gaze

“Papa!” the girl cried out excitedly as she burst into Gale’s library. His daughter was technically supposed to knock before entering her father’s library, but Gale adored his daughter’s visits. Even when she did interrupt his work, he was more excited about her than any composition he could make with the Weave. Tara was asleep next to him as he read by the fire. The tressym awoke with a soft trill, her wings twitching.

Karlach was born the year after he and Tav were married. From the moment that Tav told him that she was pregnant, Gale was enamored with his future child. He fussed endlessly over Tav throughout the pregnancy, hyper-attuned to any slight grimace of discomfort, craving, or restlessness from his wife. He paused all of his arcane research and teaching students to attend to her, despite Tav’s protests that he didn’t need to worry himself so much. “My love, there is nothing more important in this world or any other than you and our child,” he would say, placing a hand on Tav’s belly. “The Weave will always exist and I will shall always be able to compose within it, but this is worth more than kingdoms.”

Gale, true to his nature, read any book he could get his hands on related to child-rearing. Since having a child with Mystra was out of the question, he never imagined being a father.

Gale smiled proudly upon seeing Karlach, marking his place in the book before closing it. He always gave his daughter his fullest attention. Karlach skipped over to where her father sat on the sofa. Gale’s library was her favorite place in the house. She loved the way it smelled like old books and dust, just like her beloved father. More than that, it was where she could most frequently find Tara, who was her best friend next to Gale.

“Ah, Karlach!” he exclaimed. “My dearest daughter. How were your lessons today? I am certain that you are excelling, as always.”

“Today was so much fun!” she said, her voice still brimming with excitement. “I made you something!”

“My goodness! Is it another addition to the gallery?” Gale asked. His library was filled with Karlach’s creative works, all of which he cherished. When his daughter began bringing her artwork home from her classes, he cleared any space he could in his library to display Karlach’s work. Each painting she made was framed with a tiny orb of light suspended overhead so that Gale could fully appreciate each work of art in full detail. Beneath each of them, there was a tiny plaque with the name, date, and medium: “Papa Doing Magic,” Watercolor on Baldurian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios; “Mama and Papa”, Oil pastel on Waterdhavian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios. While Karlach dabbled in many mediums, painting was her favorite.

“I think you and Tara will really, really, *really* like this one,” Karlach giggled. Her face was smudged with paint, her nose spotted with deep cerulean. Although his opinion was biased, never before had Gale seen a child as beautiful as his daughter. She was his spitting image; sparkling brown eyes, untamed chestnut curls and his smile. There was no denying that she was a Dekarios.

Karlach produced a small canvas from behind her back and handed it to her father. “It’s you and Tara!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

The painting portrayed Gale and Tara sitting on the flocked velvet sofa of his library. Gale was portrayed with an oblong body, stick arms, and a beard. Tara’s likeness resembled a brown and orange egg with disproportionately large white wings. In the background, there were several asymmetrically drawn bookshelves adorned with books of many different colors.

Gale took the painting from Karlach’s hands, looking upon it with amazement. “Karlach, my darling girl, this is your best work yet. Such skill you have!”

Karlach bounced on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Really?!”

Gale nodded, admiring the painting as if it was the finest piece of artwork he’d ever seen. To him, his daughter’s work was always beautiful and he grew prouder of her by the day. “Tara, hasn’t she captured your likeness beautifully?”

“Yes, Mr. Dekarios! Little Miss Karlach is truly a natural! So very talented!” Tara trilled. Objectively, Karlach’s art was like any other child’s, but Tara loved seeing how happy Gale was when Karlach brought him her paintings.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “You must tell me all about your creative process.”

Karlach sat beside her father, her legs dangling above the floor. Describing her creative processes was her favorite part of showing her father her art.

“It’s your and Tara’s favorite place in the whole wide world so it’s my favorite place too!”

Gale ruffled Karlach’s curls. “Right you are, sweet girl. The level of detail is remarkable. As always, you never fail to amaze me.”

Gale looked down at his daughter, the child he never thought he would have. Even though she looked like him, she had her mother’s spirit and the tenacity of her namesake — Karlach Cliffgate.

“Now, where shall we hang this one?” Gale asked Karlach.

“Hmmm…” Karlach hummed, pursing her lips together as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. “I think it should go… over there!”

She was pointing to a vacant space over her father’s piano, the last empty wall space in the library. Admittedly, Gale had hoped to use the space to hang a rare tapestry that Elminster had gifted him for his 50th birthday, but Gale couldn’t say no to Karlach. Tav worried about Gale spoiling her, but Karlach’s puppy dog eyes never failed to sway him.

“You have such an eye for design. That spot is absolutely perfect. Shall we hang it tomorrow?”

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I help, Papa?”

“Of course you can, my love,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. In the meantime, he would need to make a new plaque for the painting.

“Thank you, Papa!” she exclaimed, giving her father a tight hug. “I love you!”

Sometimes, Gale found himself misty-eyed whenever his wife or daughter told him that they loved him. They both loved him so purely, not for his capabilities to compose the Weave, but for the husband and father he was. And he loved them, more than he could ever have imagined. Nothing in this plane of existence nor any other could compare.

Gale embraced his daughter. “I love you too, my sweet girl.”

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 headcanons #dad!gale

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Hey! If youre still doing the ask game, would you mind the "I'll take care of you, promise." To "please come inside me" pipeline w/ Gale? 👉👈 (or you can choose your favorite if you don't want to do both! I love your writing, thank you so much💞)

aaaa ty anon!!

Send asks using this prompt

This is based on a line between Gale and Astarion as well as my neutral evil!Tav

Rated M

Warning: wacky magic and manipulation

Gale of Waterdeep has always fancied you, a fellow wizard and one who felt the pain of love, you were there for him. Encouraging him, leading him to your strength, and showing him his true potential.

Not the potential of the tadpoles but his own power both his natural talents and the power the orb allows him to tap into.

Though your heart is to another… You made room for him. He is not one to share or be shared, Mystra at the time was all he needed. Yet, in this chaotic turn of events, he finds himself slowly opening to the idea. Well, mainly to be able to be touched by you.

"I'll take care of you, promise." Your words like slik sliding across his naked skin, "Anything you desire. Be selfish, my little wizard." Your eyes looking into him with the shine he has only seen you give Astarion, desire.

It is not the desire to control or to see him crumble, but the desire for Gale to take all that is offered to him and more.

Astarion promised a night of hedonistic debauchery, Gale had not thought it meant by the end of the night you would be in bed with him under you.

The magic, your magic, is cold and unfamiliar– Ancient and forbidden. You draw him into the darkness with no stars or colorful nebula, you bring him into the void.

"Let us create our own paradise together."

Both in the material plane and this pocket of something beyond himself, you treat him as an equal. An… Equal.

You reach deep inside of him, your magic drawing out the power of the orb, you calm him with your presence as he fears what is happening.

The void is filled by light, his light.

Gale doesn't realize he is still alive until he is gasping for air in reality and you are still on his lap. Your aura, your power interlinking with his. He looks around and his body is transparent, full of stars and colors.

"How are you doing this?"

"You aren't the only one to use magic in the bedroom. I however use a different method: the soul. In our purist form, we bare our truths. Do not fear it."

How can he not!? The orb, his curse, his mistake could kill you! 

"Heh, trust in yourself. You need not fear your beautiful power."

Beautiful. You told him once how you envied the beauty of his mastery of the weave.

"I… Trust you." He still doesn't know if he can trust himself.

You smile and nod, "Let us work with that for now."

And you do, in your hands, you hold this wizard who was broken by a Goddess who is undeserving of this man. A mortal who flew too high to the sun hoping to prove his love.

Now you have him, in your hands with claws caging him in your love.

You do not bind his soul tonight, instead, you bind his emotions and body to you.

You can taste the completion of the domination of Baldur’s Gate.

Sex is amazing, good old-fashioned flesh upon flesh. Gale is very repressed and you praise him for trying to keep up with your lust for him.

"Please cum inside of me." Sure he does not want to cum first but you want him to fill you with his seed. He deserves a good thing, a wonderful night, to surrender to bliss Astarion promised you can bring him.

His fine-cut nails leave crescent marks on your waist, his chest hurts from how hard his breathing. Your cold magic soothes him as you moan so deliciously, "Yes, let go. Fall, my love."

If you are some sort of devil of desire sent to steal his soul and mind; well you have it!

"Now that's a look." Gale looks drunk, dazed, happy, "Gale." Kissing him as you ride out your own bliss.

There is a triumphant grin on your face as you both lay in bed, Gale fast asleep and his magic tainted by your influence. You have broken Mystra's hold over him. Impossible but you lived long enough to break and bind oaths and puppet strings of Gods. You trace his chest, the orb slumbering.

Astarion will join you later, Gale still needs time to get used to this sharing concept.

#anon ask #reader insert #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x mc #gale x you x astarion

[britishassistant]

Considerations on Remodeling a Wizard’s Tower

Gale Dekarios would not consider himself an inexperienced man by any means.

He was a wizarding prodigy, able to stun his elders and betters with his knowledge of the Weave. He was Mystra’s lover, diligently taught by her in all forms of magic and pleasure there were to be had. He was carrier of the Orb of Karsus, which ensured he knew the pain of loss, the terror of death, the price of his folly more intimately than any teacher should. He was Tara’s friend, and by this point a minor expert on the care and keeping of tressym.

So no, Gale of Waterdeep would not ever deign to call himself inexperienced. Not with all that went on in the thirty four years he had under his belt!

Yet, for all this knowledge and experience, Gale never quite realized that he’d truly never had friends who weren’t tressym before.

They’re emptying the Last Light tavern of what little alcohol it has left, getting progressively drunker on a mixture of spirits and the rush of victory.

Lae’zel’s remedy for Shadowheart’s crisis of faith was apparently by challenging her to a drinking competition, one that the rest of their motley crew and the few patrons left at the bar quickly got involved in. Gale himself has gracefully bowed out, feeling himself dancing on the edge between pleasantly squiffy and absolutely wankered.

Shadowheart is doing her level best to match Lae’zel cup for cup next to him, red-rimmed eyes on her rival/frenemy/whatever-label-people-are-using-these-days. Lae’zel is actually smirking back as she teeters slightly in place, the same one she wears when she’s fighting some strong opponent.

Gale sets his head on his hands and lets himself grin as he stares.

Shadowheart deserved a well-earned break after all she’s been through. And while Gale would normally prescribe a tenday of good food, good wine, and good company, he finds himself wondering what sort of haven he’d create for her if they were back in Waterdeep.

Nothing explicitly religious, mind you, no need to upset the poor woman more than she already had been. Soft furnishings dyed in indigo and purple and lavender, in a nod to her excellent taste in color, were a must. Rows of bookshelves, stretching to the ceiling and filled to the brim, in a nod to her terrible taste in fiction, were also important. A canopy bed covered with gauzy silks. A vanity, perhaps. And all in some sort of dark wood, like the end tables. Scattered tastefully throughout the room and large enough that any one could become easily an alter to some form of deity if one so chose, but also nondenominational enough that they didn’t need to be! Sometimes an end table was just a good place to set things down. Shadowheart seemed like she’d appreciate those.

It’d also be good to have somewhere to put all the night orchids, in fine vases to make her smile like when they passed that field—except what if they wilted? Small pots of them instead then, perhaps built into the wall as scones or enchanted to look like vases? And surely it wasn’t beyond Gale to work out how to get the soil to water itself somehow. Something to think about.

Lae’zel, on the other hand, would hardly be so taken with flowers. No, the trick with her room would be to work out how to recreate an environment she could relax in, truly relax. There’s no place like home after all, so how could Gale bring a little bit of crèche K’llir to the material plane? Crafting elements from the astral plane is child’s play for him, but perhaps drawing some elements from that crèche they visited would be viable? Like as not he’ll need to ask her for the specifics, but a small part of him is stomping its feet that that will ruin the surprise.

A training ground would be hard to go wrong with, though. Lae’zel prides herself on keeping her skills sharp, and far from just providing a well-maintained, well-stocked arena, Gale can certainly give her something a little more sophisticated. Moving suits of armor or magic constructs for opponents, all tweaked slightly so they can provide her with a variety of challenges.

His eyes slide over to Wyll, who has been gamely trying to keep up with the amount of alcohol the two women and Astarion are putting away. It’s clearly having less of an effect on the vampire than it is on the man, given Astarion’s teasing has only gotten more verbose while Wyll has resorted to a graceful (and succinct) middle finger.

Wyll would also enjoy a training ground, he knows. Something to keep his skills sharp, but perhaps more styled after the forests and caves of the Sword Coast, the biomes he’s used to hunting in. But for his personal quarters, Gale’s thinking something a little more civilized—he’s noticed the way Wyll rubs his lower back after sleeping rough. Still themed after his tastes, his experiences on the frontier, but all the necessary creature comforts. A fine four poster in deep brown oak. A full carafe of port. Comfortable chairs that could be sunk into for a quiet night by the fire.

A large tub would certainly help ease any aches and pains reaped from Wyll’s constant heroics. Porcelain, of course, surrounded by all the bath salts and oils he could wish to use. Gale’s an old hat now at ensuring a tub like that fills itself with water when needed that always feels—just—right.

By contrast, he thinks Astarion would quite like a conservatory. Somewhere he can warm himself in the sun for hours like he used to up above, lounging on one particular rock as he sewed or read or sharpened his daggers. Yes, yes, a bright conservatory filled with the finest pillows and furnishings Astarion deserved to lounge on, all the indulgence and luxury he projects so effortlessly but hasn’t had the chance to enjoy. Squat bookshelves that don’t impede the sun’s light. A fully stocked liquor cabinet set up in an armoire. A small door off to some equally extravagant sleeping quarters in one corner.

And if he loses his immunity to the sun with the tadpole, well. Gale wasn’t the finest wizard in Waterdeep for nothing. If devils could create the Companion to orbit Elturel, who is to say that Gale could not create something similar yet safer so Astarion could enjoy its warmth in peace?

Speaking of, his eyes turn to the two tieflings of the group. Karlach has one arm slung around Astarion’s shoulders and appears to be egging Yuu across the table into singing some kind of raunchy drinking song. Yuu, in the spirit of contrariness and probably more alcohol than they can handle, has instead begun to croon a low, soft melody, practically a lullaby.

They would probably love a music room, he reflects, something acoustically-inclined to give them the space to practice all those instruments they’ve been accumulating, encourage them to raise their voice in song like they so rarely do. A large, airy chamber would be best to help them transmit the Weave into melody like they’ve been learning to. Cupboards stocked full of resins and other such things they may need to clean and maintain the tools of their trade. Perhaps an inviting seating area, to host whatever teachers they might need to finish their studies and be appointed an official Bard of the College of Lore.

The desk, of course, would be essential. Filled with drawers, quills, inkwells and charcoal, and of course the many, many reams of blank parchment that their constant scribbling on the road suggested were more a necessity than a luxury. He’d probably need to invent a new charm just to keep them even halfway stocked.

Karlach, on the other hand, seemed like she would be happier with more rustic surroundings than the others. Not that she didn’t deserve to be showered in luxury like all the others, but from what Gale had seen it didn’t seem to interest her that much—as evidenced by her continual championing the merits of a good beer over more expensive spirits. Simple but comfortable, that’s the name of the game. A bed that looked like it could be found in a tavern but would be the rival of any noble’s feather bed. Overstuffed armchairs to sink into. Wide windows so she could gaze over the landscape. Even a few barrels of her favorite tipple to tap into if she felt like it.

Interesting textures, that would be the pièce de résistance for Karlach’s room. Fascinating tactility to skim her fingers over, trace the grooves of, dig her nails into, even pick at. If he has to make the entire affair fireproof, then so be it. It’s hardly a chore if it makes her happy.

“What are you grinning at?”

Gale blinks back into himself to see Astarion raising an arch eyebrow.

He smiles wider, letting the beer buzzing through his system warm his cheeks. “Nothing, nothing, really. Just.”

He glances around at everyone again.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart attempting to carry on a highly slurred argument. Karlach is lazily conducting Yuu’s soft “but just tonight, maybe I’ll rest in peace~” with her empty tankard. Wyll has taken the opportunity to set his head on the table and begun listing gently into Shadowheart’s side.

His cheeks almost hurt as he meets Astarion’s gaze again. “Enjoying the view.”

Astarion takes him in with a considering tilt of the head.

“Darling, you’re sozzled.”

Gale throws back his head and laughs. “Ha! Well. Aren’t we all?”

“Hm.” Astarion eyes where Lae’zel has begun to murmur into his collarbone. Wyll’s feet have found their way into his lap, and the vampire is much less enchanted with the Blade of Frontier’s boots. “Well! I’m sure I can prevail upon you to use that lovely, powerful magic of yours to help corral all these lightweights to bed, no?”

Gale hums. He’s warm and comfortable, Shadowheart is nuzzling into his side, and Wyll’s head is pillowed on her lap.

“Gale?”

Yuu mumbles nonsense as they curl into him, nestling under Gale’s chin as they trail off into incoherence. They let out a little huff as Shadowheart slips and starts using their back as a headrest but settle within a moment.

“Gale.”

Karlach has less begun to lean on Astarion than slump on him, her head pillowed on his curls. Her eyes are shut, and her breathing is deepening in a way that promises snores.

“Gale. Do not leave me like this.” Astarion orders with what might be a smidge of desperation.

Gale leans back against the wall, exhaling and closing his eyes.

“Gale!”

His tower could use some remodeling, he reflects as he rearranges Yuu so they’re not stabbing him in the throat with their horns.

Places to keep his people near and dear to him.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #karlach cliffgate #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #astarion #karlach #bg3 tav #my tav #villainous paranoiac yuu #dnd ocs #tiefling bard #gale fantasizes about having his friends living together #like he’s designing a barbie dream house #gale is probably a little in love with everyone

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 3

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Young God" - Halsey

Chapter Warnings: Oral Sex, PiV Sex

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: i promise not every chapter starts with a flashback, and i wasn't planning on writing any of this from gale's POV, but he was like hey this is my story, too!!!

Chapter 3: Baby Girl, We're Gonna Be Legends

”I hope that wasn’t a goodbye kiss.” Fallon gently teases Gale with a pleading look in her eyes. He smiles back at her. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Gale stands up and extends Fallon his hand. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way the gods do…intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.” 

Fallon takes his hand and stands to face him, chewing on her lip. “I don’t need illusions. I want the Gale in front of me.” 

“Are you sure? I could conjure up anything you desire, and a few you could not. I could use The Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could not only woo you, I could wow you.”

“I want the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy.” 

“The old ways, then. If that is what you wish, so be it. A gesture for your comfort.” 

A four poster bed magically appears in the middle of the forest Gale has conjured, and Fallon falls back on the mattress, beckoning Gale to come closer. He obliges, approaching the foot of the bed and crawling up the mattress until he is on top of her. Fallon cups his face in her hands, and Gale is in awe. There are so many things he wants to say to her, but most of all, he wants to kiss her again. Their second kiss is far less chaste than the first, all heat and passion, like this could be the last chance they get. In their defense, it could be. Even before Mystra delivered her marching orders to Gale, every moment could have been their last. 

Gale leans forward and buries his face in Fallon’s neck, drinking in the smell of her, the taste of her skin on his tongue. The breathy moan she lets out goes straight to his cock, and he can’t help but smirk against her skin. It’s been a long time since Gale has been with someone like this. Not just in general, but without The Weave manipulating their bodies and surroundings into fantasies. Gale’s mouth begins to travel, peppering kisses across Fallon’s skin from her shoulders to the exposed skin of her chest and torso. Though he often teased Fallon for her need to loot every dead body they came across, he sure is glad that she took the time to steal her current wardrobe off of Minthara’s corpse. 

It was sinful, with the bodice accentuating her chest, and the tight leather hugging the curves of her hips and ass. Gale would be a liar if he said he hasn’t imagined slowly taking that outfit off of Fallon since the very moment she put it on, and not just because the way Astarion and Halsin stared at her body when they made camp makes Gale jealous. Gale’s hands make swift work of untying the laces on the very front of the bodice. 

“Undress for me, my love.” Gale requests, pushing himself off of Fallon just enough for her to move out from under his body and stand. Just as he’d hoped, Fallon makes a show of it all, and Gale struggles between looking back into her eyes, meeting her intense eye contact, and watching the fabric slowly fall away from her body until it’s pooled at her feet in the grass. 

For a moment, Gale is speechless as Fallon stands there. Everything about her is as perfect as Gale had imagined it would be. “You are,” he breathes. “Without question, the most exquisitely beautiful woman I have ever had the great pleasure of laying my eyes on.”

The moon is so bright that Gale can see her cream colored skin become a rosier hue when he compliments her, and Fallon laughs softly, averting her eyes. “Well, I’m no goddess.” She counters and Gale is off of the mattress and standing in front of Fallon again with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Fallon, I need you to hear me when I say that every goddess, even Mystra, pales in comparison to the beauty standing in front of me right now.” His hands settle on her hips and he tugs her a little closer to him. “I wish you could see what I see, because standing here in the moonlight, you are absolutely radiant, and your beauty goes so far beyond your physical form.” 

Gale kisses sweetly. “You have a good heart, Fallon, and that is something that not many beautiful people can also claim. In the short time that I’ve known you, I’ve witnessed you countlessly run head first into situations that could get you killed, all because someone who couldn’t defend themselves needed your help. I’ve seen you weep when you can’t save everyone, and for innocent creatures and people who were already dead when we arrived. I see how much you care for myself and our companions every single day. It would be easy for you to keep us all at arms length and choose not to give a damn about who we are, but you do. It’s not just your physical beauty that makes you incredibly beautiful, but also your empathy for others. Your humanity.” 

“You’re just saying that.” She responds softly, averting her gaze from his again. Knowing what Gale has come to know about Fallon, her reaction is unsurprising, and it breaks Gale’s heart that she doesn’t see what he sees. He sighs sympathetically. 

“If my words aren’t enough, allow me to show you how beautiful I think you are. Allow me to prove to you how much you deserve to be adored. To be worshiped.” 

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before pulling her close so her body is flush with his and kissing her deeply. He guides Fallon back to the bed he conjured as their tongues intertwine, and when her body stops moving, Gall pulls away so he can gently push her backwards onto the mattress again. There is no pomp or circumstance as he removes his own clothes, and his still-hard cock springs gratefully from the confines of the fabric that was previously holding it back. Not that Gale is in any sort of hurry to bury himself inside of her. No, he plans to make this last, to take his time, because it could very well be the last time.

Gale is not the only person in awe of the other, it seems. “How the fuck are you real?” She asks in disbelief, taking in his naked form. Gale does nothing but smirk at her in response and walks back towards her, crawling onto the mattress after her as she moves back so the upper half of her body is partly leaning against the headboard. Their mouths connect again with heated passion, and all Gale wants to do is touch every part of her skin that he possibly can. He needs to hear her moan again like she did the first time when his mouth was on her neck. No, he needs more than that, and he will not be satisfied until the woman below him is crying out in ecstasy. 

It’s likely that Gale could just lay there kissing her until the sun comes up, but he has other plans that involve his mouth elsewhere. His mouth slowly starts exploring the rest of her skin as he begins his descent down her body. Gale comes face to face with her breasts, and he closes his mouth over one and gently massages the other with his hand. “You know, not everyone is blessed with perfect breasts but my gods it’s like you were sculpted by the universe,” he lowers his mouth to her breast again and nips gently and her nipple. The sound that comes out of Fallon’s mouth is breathy, and Gale desperately needs to hear it again. “Every time you wear that gods-forsaken outfit you nicked off of Minthara, I imagine what it would be like to have my head right here, in this spot.” 

Gale switches sides so Fallon’s other perfect breast receives attention from his mouth. Fallon makes the same sound as before and Gale’s heart sings. Slowly, Gale continues peppering soft kisses and gentle love bites down her torso, until his mouth is hovering over the apex of her thighs. He uses his hands to spread her legs further apart, ignoring her sex for now so he can give her thighs the attention they deserve. “And these,” Gale plants kiss on her inner thigh, and then the other, and Fallon whimpers. “I’ve spent many a night imagining my head between these strong beautiful legs, with my hands holding them in place.”

Gale takes a moment to look up at Fallon when she whimpers again, and he can’t help but offer her a sly smile when he takes in the pleading look on her face. His mouth works its way back up to the apex of her thighs, and he plants one single kiss just above her sex. “And here?” Gale releases her legs with his right hand so he can run his thumb over her already slick folds, still avoiding the spot her desperate moan reveals she’d like him to be most. “Well, I’ve imagined what it would be like to bury my face in your cunt and taste you since the day we met.”

Gale doesn’t make her wait any longer before he lowers his mouth to her clit and sucks on it, swirling his tongue across it in slow circles. Fallon gasps. He can feel her body shift so her back is arched and the reaction his movements with his tongue illicit only spur him forward. Gale once joked with Fallon that he had a practiced tongue, and now that he has her, he’s determined to show her exactly what he meant. The smell of her, the taste of her, it’s all intoxicating and Gale laps at her clit like a dehydrated man just offered water for the first time in a millennia. He’s so in love with this woman, it’s stupid, and if he dies tomorrow, and the sound of her name on his lips is one of the last things he hears, then Gale will die a happy man. 

Gale adjusts his body just enough so he can slip two practiced fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out of her slowly, deeply, and he relishes in the way Fallon pushes her hips forward, begging him for more. Gale is all too happy to oblige and he picks up the speed of his fingers inside of her until her legs are shaking and her moans are leaving her mouth in quick succession. It’s not until then that he comes up for air and he looks Fallon in the eyes as his fingers continue to move. “My gods, you are beautiful. I love watching you fall apart like this. Are you going to come for me, my love?” Fallon is gripping the sheets with her hands and she nods desperately. 

“Please, Gale, I’m so close.” she begs and Gale gets lightheaded. Of all the things he’d expected this evening, he wasn’t sure Fallon begging was even on the list. Crying out his name in pleasure, surely, but begging? It’s almost enough to turn him back into an inexperienced teenager who might come simply from a stiff breeze hitting his cock right. “With pleasure.” he answers, his voice rough with desire. Gale dives back in, devouring Fallon with determination to coax her orgasm from her body. 

He doesn’t have to wait very long, and soon Fallon erupts with a sharp cry. Her entire body shakes as she moans his name. Much to his pleasure, she’s loud enough that it’s unlikely their companions back at camp didn’t hear her. Good. Maybe Halsin and Astarion will back the hells off with their staring and flirty comments now that Gale has claimed her. Fallon is his, and Gale Dekarios doesn’t share. Gale keeps his mouth on her as she rides out her high, only lifting his head when her body stills. He’s sure his mouth and scruffy beard are glistening with her orgasm, but Gale doesn’t care enough to wipe his mouth across his arm before climbing up the bed to capture Fallon’s mouth again. 

A shiver runs down his spine as Fallon’s hands begin to explore his body. Her nails and fingertips scrape against his torso roughly, and don’t waste much time roaming further down to his stiff cock, and Gale’s hips stutter against his will as her warm hand wraps around him. Fallon’s free hand presses against Gale’s chest and she pulls back from their kiss. “Let me return the favor. Please.” 

There’s that word again. Please. The desperation in her voice makes Gale moan, like she needs this as badly as he does. His mouth connects with the skin of her neck, and he bites down; maybe not as gently as he could have, but his ego needs to claim her right over the two puncture marks where Astarion drank from every couple of days. “Well, who am I to deny you?” He mutters, and he allows her to push him back so his back is flat against the mattress.

Fallon swings her legs across his thighs, and Gale decides right then and there that when the time comes, he needs her on top, riding his cock. Fallon moves down Gale’s body quicker than he’d done, but she does stop to press soft, long kisses on the span of his neck and chest covered by the orb, almost like she’s offering her mouth and kisses up to the Netherese orb as an offering to not take Gale away from her. She spreads his legs slightly to settle between them, and there is no teasing or anticipation. Fallon wraps her mouth around Gale’s cock and immediately begins to move her mouth along his shaft, and he bites back a loud moan at the feeling of the wet heat surrounding his cock. 

The way Fallon sucks his cock is absolutely filthy. It’s wet and messy, a mixture of her saliva and his pre-come coat his shaft and her hand at the base of it, pumping him dutifully where her mouth cannot reach. If Gale knew who taught her how to suck cock like this, he’d send them flowers. “Fallon,” Gale breathes heavily after what couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. The fact that it’s been a while for Gale is truly showing now, but he’s too turned on to be embarrassed. “Not to look a gifthorse in the mouth, but if you don’t stop I’m afraid I’m not going to make it much longer, and I would very much like to fuck you, lest I not get another chance.” 

Her moan, only muted by his cock in her mouth, is guttural and the way it vibrates around him nearly sends Gale over the edge, but Fallon lifts her head with a pop. There’s a wild look in her eyes as she begins to remove herself from the position she’s in, but Gale reaches out to stop her, gripping her hips. “If I’m to die tomorrow, let the one of the last visions I think about when I go be your perfect body riding me with reckless abandon until we both forget our names. Please.” 

Fallon stares at him for a moment, slack-jawed and glossy-eyed. “Sorry, I think I just almost passed out,” she laughs. “That just might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Gale’s laugh is low, and strokes her outer thighs with his hands. “Well then I shall endeavor to not die tomorrow so your brain short-circuits more often.” His words are playful, like he is still considering blowing himself up when they face Ketheric, but truthfully? The truth is that Gale decided against sacrificing himself the moment Fallon told him she loves him back. 

With patience Gale isn’t sure he would have been able to exude at this moment, Fallon climbs back up his body and positions herself above his hip. She aligns him with her center and slowly sinks down on his cock. They moan in unison as he fills her. Fallon sits still a beat too long, and Gale makes a face at her. He’s patience is spent, and Gale is no longer in the mood for teasing. “Fallon, please.” He does not have to ask her twice, and the gorgeous woman above him begins to ride him; slowly at first, but eventually her pace becomes as desperate as Gale feels, and the string of moans exiting her body are endless. She holds herself steady with hands on his chest as she bounces on his cock, and when she lifts one hand to run her fingers through her hair, Gale almost loses it. “You are the absolute picture of perfection. You feel perfect. If I could paint this moment, I would. Hells, Fallon.” Gale moans, and Fallon responds in kind, digging her nails into his chest, leaving little crescent moons on his skin.

Gale can feel his climax careening to the finish line, and he wants to be as close to her as possible. He sits up, adjusting their position so she is sitting in his lap comfortably with one arm wrapped around her back, and his fingers are tangled in her hair. He slips his other hand between them and caresses her clit dutifully until Fallon’s body begins to shake again. 

Gale and Fallon peak in unison, their bodies shuddering in time as they both moan each other’s names loudly, gasping for air between passionate kisses. Fallon rides him until they’re both completely spent, and it’s only then that Gale leans back again, taking Fallon with him and gently lifting her off of his lap. He maneuvers her body so she’s laying on the bed next to him. Their kisses become slower, gentler, and eventually Gale pulls back to kiss her forehead. 

Yes, if he dies tomorrow (by his own hand or someone else’s), this night is what he’ll picture in his final moments.

The memory fades and reality returns. He looks down at his spent cock and semen covered hand, almost in disappointment. Despite his best efforts, there is still an emptiness in his chest that only filled for as long as the memory lasted. Gale gingerly gets out of his bed and walks to the toilets to clean himself off. He stops long enough to look at his reflection in the mirror. A god stares back at him, but his expression is not the one someone would expect of a human who’d been given exactly what he asked for. His quest, his entire ordeal to become a god, was one giant test from Mystra herself. Would he learn from his mistakes, and hand over The Crown of Karsus to her? Or would he repeat history? 

As it turns out, the answer to both questions was “yes.” In a moment of clarity when face to face with Mystra, Gale realized there was a chance he could have both Godhood and Mystra’s favor. So he struck a bargain. Gale of Waterdeep got what he wanted, but in the end it came with a great cost. A greater cost than he could have ever imagined, but he’d been too hungry for the power. Gale sighs heavily and slowly exits the bathroom, heading for his study. There’s no way he’s going back to sleep now, so he might as well get some reading in. 

Only, he’s not alone for long. Gale senses her before he feels her arms wrapping around him from behind, or her mouth against her neck. “You’re up early.” She says softly. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not entirely true either. She presses her mouth to his neck again. “You should come back to bed then. Perhaps I can wear you out.”

Gale closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. He should have seen this coming. He should have thought of a better excuse, but even now the feeling of her mouth on his neck and her arms wrapped around him stirs something inside of Gale, even if he doesn’t want it to. 

When Gale opens his eyes, he’s mentally no longer himself. He’s a former version of Gale of Waterdeep, one who didn’t know any better, who didn’t know what it was like to experience true, unrequited love. The version that was wholly and unequivocally in love with the goddess beckoning him to her bed, not the one whose heart was torn in two.

Gale rises from his chair and turns to face the goddess, his goddess, and wraps her arms around her waist. Mystra kisses him deeply. “Make love to me, Gale of Waterdeep.” She murmurs against his lips.  

It’s almost as if she knows. Gale pulls away from her kiss and plasters a loving smile on his face. “With pleasure.”

Chapter List

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale fanfic #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale smut #gale dekarios smut

[clericofgale]

Gale and Mystra: The artist and his goddess

I've been trying to collect my ever-evolving thoughts about Mystra and Gale. His relationship to Mystra is multi-faceted. Goddess(physical manifestation of your passion/worship), teacher, muse, liege, lover. Gale loves Mystra in many different "types" of love. It's not only romantic love.

I'm very intrigued about viewing them through the lens of viewing Gale as an artist and Mystra as art in physical being.

I sincerely believe Gale is very much an artist, and a very passionate one at that. He's talented the same way that some people are born with perfect pitch or amazing color sense. Doing magic using Mystran weave is called "The Art" after all.

Mystra seems infinite in wisdom, the beauty of the weave made manifest in physical form. The weave, the art, his passion, his love. He has loved the Art all his life, now it's showing affection and...eventually taking him to bed. Remember the astral scene? That's how being with her felt. You're all but one with the weave, with magic, with *Her*. You're closer to the Art than ever before, and you can see it so clearly. You'd do anything to cling onto this, and perhaps even hope for more access. It should be no surprise that he burns himself in the pursuit of art.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #gale thoughts

[amoebab22]

Out here writing post game Galemance dialogue and Gale is the biggest lesbian I've ever met I adore him. Sapphic energy with pansexual attraction. Uhaul is packed and ready. He has a cat and a library and loves to cook and will tell everyone how perfect you are at the slightest provocation.

A snippet (lol if something this long can be a "snippet") of the fic (exists in the same universe as Fenstarion content):

Making his way through the stacks, Gale soon came upon the section he was looking for. Truly the library here was so intuitively organized. Perhaps he should rearrange his own to match? Though he could nearly hear Tara and Astarion grousing as they helped. For a later date, then.

As he rounded a corner into the bookshelf-lined enclave, he was met by the sight of an unfamiliar tiefling woman sitting in a circle of books on the floor.

“Oh, pardon me, I was-”

“Hold on,” she said brusquely, holding up a hand. Well, that was rather rude, especially given it was her that was blocking an entire section of books.

The woman frowned, flipping a page, and cursed, before waving her hand casually and sending every book back to its location on the shelves.

Her movements and lack of incantation puzzled Gale, until it dawned on him.

“You're a sorcerer?” He asked, quite surprised. He ran into sorcerers so rarely.

The woman stood and looked up, her expression icy. “Yes, I'm a sorcerer. What, did you expect me to be eating crayons in a corner?”

Despite her rather diminutive height, the woman stood as tall as she could, arms crossed and tail swishing like an angry cat.

Ah, a sore point for her, then.

Gale smiled, trying to remember how exactly to be charming. He'd gotten out of practice after the orb, but he'd been improving since the Absolute business. He was absolutely certain he was capable of charm; he'd charmed the goddess of magic, hadn't he?

He had, hadn't he? She'd liked him for more than his command of the Weave...right?

“Oh, I think that's a bit more in a warlock's wheelhouse, don't you?” Gale raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. Yes! That was quite charming. He still had it!

He saw the reluctant twitch of a smile.

“Suppose so. Not exactly a smart move to tie yourself to a mercurial patron.” She studied him, and Gale noticed her eyes lacked the typical black sclera of a tiefling. They were, however, a very lovely shade of purple. Purple always was Gale's favorite color.

Apparently deciding she approved of what she saw, the woman held out her hand. “Velanna Milthor.”

Gale took her hand and shook it, giving a slight bow. “Gale Dekarios.”

Something flashed across Velanna’s face, and Gale felt a pit in his stomach. Please don't let her bring up Mystra; Gale was very sick of discussing his ex and his colossal fuck up with the Karsite weave. He really felt that saving the entire world should have overridden the other, but he supposed it was far less salacious to simply defeat an Elder Brain.

“The new illusion professor? I haven't seen you at any of the faculty get-togethers; I assumed you were an illusion, too.”

Gale was confused. What get-togethers was she talking about? Was she faculty? He'd never heard of her; perhaps she was in another department.

Come to think of it, he hadn't really met any of the other faculty save the professor that taught after him in the lecture hall.

Velanna’s face twitched in what was probably very well contained rage. “No need to look so confused about a little sorceress teaching; I promise I'm fully literate.”

“What? Oh! Oh no, that's not it at all-certainly it’s less common, given your innate ability, but really-” Gods, he was butchering this. He sighed. “I apologize. I was confused about the faculty meet ups. I... didn't realize they existed.”

Velanna's face softened to what was nearly a look of pity. “No one told you?”

Gale put on his best optimistic smile. This definitely didn't remind him of his extremely isolated childhood...or his extremely isolated adulthood. It was not yet another slight in a long string of slights that wore him down slowly.

“Oh, not to worry; I'm sure it just got lost in the shuffle of things. In fact, I'll go check my mailbox. Or maybe Tara-”

Velanna put a hand on his arm and patted it. “Look, they're mostly assholes anyway; you're not missing out.” She paused for a moment, seeming to weigh her options. “Let's get something to eat. The other professors are about as fond of a tiefling sorcerer as they are the chosen of Mystra.” She looked off to the side, thinking. “Or...former chosen? Are you one of her Chosen again? Eh, whatever. Come on.”

Gale thought about saying no and going about his research but the truth was, after the weeks on the road with his tadpole cohort, he found himself rather lonely with just Tara in the tower. Oh, certainly Fenora and Astarion had visited, even Shadowheart when she'd been in town, but not since the party a month or two ago had he really felt...accepted by a group. Velanna wasn't a group, but he'd be one person closer to it if they got on well.

And being invited to lunch did take a bit of the sting out of finding out the other professors weren't inviting him to their parties.

______

“So then, I figured, well I'm already in trouble so I might as well just go for it.”

Gale leaned forward. “No!”

Velanna gave him a wicked smile. “Oh yes.”

“You didn't!”

“I most certainly did.” She leaned back, looking smug. “Anyway, that's how I got banned from the Yawning Portal when I was only ten.” Velanna let out a nostalgic sigh. “And they're still enforcing that ban 25 years later. Tried to go in the other day and the bartender yelled ‘Oh no you don't, you little shit. I remember you!’ Bouncer came towards me and I turned and scuttled out the door.”

Gale was laughing so hard he nearly choked on his drink. “My gods! And I thought my magma mephit incident was bad.”

Velanna grinned. “I mean, that one was pretty good, I won't lie, but sorcerer kids have the advantage of unlimited imagination and the questionable ability to make it real on the fly. At least you all get slowed down juuuuust a little by having to put in the effort to learn. I have no idea how I'm not dead, honestly.”

“A disastrous combination, truly. Though the need to study never did seem to slow me down enough to make good choices.” Gale shook his head slightly, remembering all the foolishness he'd gotten himself into. “Ah, youth. What a time.”

“Excuse you, I'm still young.” Velanna appeared to be feigning offense, so Gale kept his tone light. Look at him! Bantering like it was completely natural! Perhaps he was back to his old self.

“Oh, forgive me. Far be it from me to imply a lady is anything but eternally young and beautiful.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip from her drink. They'd finished eating some time ago and were simply enjoying the lovely weather on the tavern’s patio. Gale hadn't had this much fun since...well, probably since the get together Withers had arranged. Velanna was quite funny, and quick as a whip, too.

And...rather pretty, if he was honest.

He'd never spent much time with tieflings other than Karlach and, to some extent, the tieflings they met at the Grove. As Karlach wasn’t really his type (though a delight to travel with, certainly, and striking in her way), he'd never really thought about a tiefling through that lens.

Gale had to know someone a bit before he could judge whether or not they were attractive. Fenora, for example, was handsome, but Gale was relatively certain he'd only found them intimidating at first. They were so very tall and angular, after all. Their partner Astarion was by all outside accounts an Elven god of sculpted marble, but Gale thought him more...cute than anything. A bit like a puppy. Of course he'd never tell the man that; it would crush him.

Velanna, at first, had simply been short and a dark teal color. Having spoken with her for...gods, a few hours! How that had flown by. Anyway, having gotten to know her a bit, Gale was inclined to find her pretty, with her dark blue-green braids and purple eyes. But more importantly, she was intensely charming. He supposed that came with the territory for sorcerers.

“You know, the other professors are missing out. You're a fun lunch buddy. Way more fun than any of them. They're ungodly boring. I don't think a single one of them summoned a Tressym out of spite.”

Gale smiled a bit at the praise. “Well, if that's your idea of fun, I have to warn you: I've calmed down a bit since childhood.”

Velanna shrugged. “So have I, mostly. Still, at least you've done something other than sit around debating whether it's better to cast a confusion spell clockwise or counterclockwise.” She grimaced.

“I suppose I have, though my most recent escapades were not by choice.” He smiled. “And the answer is counterclockwise, clearly. I don't even know why they'd bother to debate it.”

“Oh, obviously.” Velanna rolled her eyes. “Wizards.”

Gale noticed Velanna's tail swished behind her, almost playfully, the same way Tara’s did when she went after a pigeon. He wondered if it meant the same thing for tieflings.

“Would you like to make this a regular occurrence?” He blurted, before gathering himself. “Lunch, I mean. It's nice to have someone besides Tara to talk to.” Oh, that sounded pathetic. “About magic, and such,” he added, trying to save the invitation from sounding too desperate. Hopefully it worked.

“I'd like that. I've got a full schedule for the next couple days, but after that, sure.”

“Most excellent. It's lovely to be among peers again. There were other casters in our group-namely a warlock and a cleric-but it's not quite the same as another wizard. Or sorcerer, of course.” Damn, he was going to keep messing that up. Velanna knew the intricacies of the Weave far better than any sorcerer he'd encountered. Though, really, how many had Gale encountered? Very few.

“And I enjoy talking to someone who's actually left their creepy little tower in the last 50 years.” She took another drink. “No offense, but the tower thing is weird. Why not just have a normal house? Why a tower specifically?”

Gale smiled. “Tradition? Efficient land use? A large number of stairs to keep us in shape?”

“I think I'll stick to my cottage. Not a big fan of heights.”

“Hmmm, that does sound rather nice. I assume you have a garden, perhaps a few chickens?”

“A garden, of course. What's a cottage without one?” She smiled. “As to animals, I actually keep bees, so if you're ever in need of honey or beeswax, I've got both in droves. Sometime we'll have to have lunch there and I can unload a bunch of bee products on you. I'm not a great cook, but fresh vegetables cover a multitude of sins.”

“Well, not to worry! I quite like to cook. You'll have to come to my tower some time as well. You would quite like Tara, and I'm sure she would like you. She's always encouraging me to have more guests over; nearly like having a second mother.”

Did that sound pathetic? Gods, it did, didn't it?

Regardless, Velanna laughed. “Well, I can’t possibly disappoint a Tressym. I'll send you a note once I've got my teaching schedule figured out for next week.... unfortunately, sorcery students are often as chaotic as you'd expect. I have several wild magic sorcerers I'm trying to help. My classes got canceled today because one of them turned himself into a sheep and was too embarrassed to let me fix it.”

Gale let out a surprised laugh before tamping it down. “Oh my, that is... unfortunate.”

Velanna grinned. “Oh, it's exactly as hilarious as you'd expect. You should sit in some time.”

“I may just have to do that.”

#bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #tiefling oc

[mahiiimahiiii]

crocus

a/n: im branching out into mutli-chapter! sorry my posts have been taking a bit. this story will take a while to progress as i want to do it right.

read here or on a03!

You knew her form in every way. You knelt on the rippling bed of water before you, her larger-than-life image burned into your memory. A snack of grapes, she offers you one. You take it, it's refreshing. She treats you shallowly like a spoiled pet, your night shirt stained with the weave. Her hair spills about her chin, half of her body reclines into the deep water below. She summons them, the jellyfish you adore. This is what you could have, if you do a favor for me Of course, nothing in life was free, the borealis in the purple sky shone brightly on your anguish. Your tail tightened behind you. No longer will you be disgraced; I will welcome you with open arms The sting you felt at her words felt embedded in the depths of your heart, it ached to be under her thumb again. What must I do, you return in kind. Visions flashed of a beast more monstrous than any other, its cloak ragged, colored a dark purple hue. Kill the beast.

+++

You bid adieu to the companions that allowed you to stay in their home, a satchel full of fresh fruits and dried meats. You lifted your canteen to your lips taking a swig of the cool stream water. It fell down your chin in drops and made puddles out of your shirt. The dream certainly shook you up a bit, but it was a decent sign of Mystra approval at your redemption. There is only so much harm one God can do to your life. The beast was rumored to be nearby, you had tracked the stories across ferûn finding its origin in rural Waterdeep. An odd place for old folklore, but a promising lead, nonetheless. The dense Forest pass ahead had been barely marked on your map. The jingle and clink of your tools fluttered behind you, as you passed through groves of trees, finding crisp apples in one. And there you found it, the labyrinth entrance. Up near the front sat a small shrine to Mystra, a foreboding warning if anything. Tacked near the shrine was a little wooden sign painted a dusty emerald green, the outline of a white teapot and enchanted text. The paint smelled fresh. You grabbed a loose piece of string from your cloak, tying it to the post and securing it. You lit a torch and held it aloft, following the green signs about that cave as the fabric popped along behind you. The caves themselves were humid, scattered with small waterfalls and clay bricks of faded colors. Ferns, moss and purple flowers grew from spigots of water and areas that drew a lot of moisture. You sit down a moment near one of the spigots, refilling your canteen. You wet a cloth under the water and wiped the sweat from your brow. You decided that now, a better time than any, was good for a snack. You pulled out a wedge of cheese, a pack of pickled fish and a chunk of bread. The cheese spread like butter, it was spiced, and tastes like your mother's mephistar cooking. You layered it with chunky and salty pieces of bone-free tuna. A pretty shitty meal at best but one that will keep you going for a while The sound of padded paws and jingling bells graces your ears, a tressym spotted like a tortoiseshell cat came into view, it grimaced at the scent of the fish.

You broke off a bit of the clean bread and offered it to the cat. She scarfed it down and began to lick her leg like a chicken drumstick. "That fish won't sustain you for much, you know." The cat stated pointedly, her eyes scrunched close in concentration.

The packing supplies rattled slightly as you put them away, doing a small Jump in surprise.

"I'm well aware, this was a snack before I scout out a place to camp." "Camp?!" The cat scoffed, "my friend runs a small inn nearby, he'll be happy to have guests. We have them more often in the winter during a specific ceremony for worshipers of Silvanus escorting their friends into hibernation. " "But I'm here to find-" "Nonsense, a cup of tea will clear your head, whatever you're finding will make sense after a good night's sleep." The cat brushed herself along your legs. You stood up, following her into the depths of the maze, eventually the cracked and sandy floor turned into a smooth rock brick. The art was newer in the walls, possibly done by previous worshippers. A sign that looked like the same green kettle settled on a beam of a building built into an alcove Your fingers brushed against the wood of the doorframe, the rest of the village that peered off the balcony below into the depths of the underdark bustled and hummed. The cat found a plush cushion at the desk, small keys hung behind her, as well as rows of books. The floor was aged wood, cracks filled in with dark cool clay. The room was open air, with small lanterns filled with enchanted candles filled with spices. The tressym stretches, nipping at an enchanted pen and stamping her own paw in ink, marking down in a book. "Name?" She asked. "Uhm.. Li'ia Obbon." "Your room will be number 6”. "That is very generous of you " you grasp at the key floating towards you "First night is free alongside the baths, you will have to pay for food though." "Oh- that's quite the lovely deal." The cat herself shrugged, "we have a lot passing through, we simply offer better services for those staying longer- as good will be a more 'on-the house' thing as you're paying for it with room and board." You Hum in acknowledgement, the tressym cleans her paws in water and dries them on a towel nearby. "I suggest you have a bath before the master wakes, he takes a while." "He is nocturnal?" You tilt your head, slightly fascinated. "Only until recently. Then he had a late-night reading session, and it went downhill from there." "Thank you for the tip." The keys are heavy in your hand as you hike up the stairs, your pack weighing heavily on your back. The hall was of the same cool wood, filled with dark clay. The key slotted into the hole and turned, revealing a large room with upwards windows bright beams of the lowering sun flooded the room. You set down your pack on the trunk, deciding it was best to bathe in the current moment. You locked the door behind you, following the sense smell of rosebud and lavender down the steps. The first step was clothes. You stepped out of them in a washroom, adding them to an enchanted bucket that spun them about and onto a washboard. Next you tiptoed down the hall in a robe to a shower room. The tile that adorned the central floors was wet.

You removed the robe gathered from the mudroom, sniffing and smelling the tray of bottles that sat in front of you on the already heated stool. One smelled spicy, it bubbles gently in a deep green bottle. The next in a dark brown one smelt fresh and minty, the content within was thick and creamy, inlaid with chunks of cucumber. The final one was herbal, similar to the thick one. You chose the two foaming ones at first, a spicy scent in your hair and an Herby one adorned your body- and rinsing them out smelt like a field of herbs. You applied, then combed with your fingers through the cucumber and mint conditioner. Rinsing it out with cool water you found your hair to be silky and soft. You wrapped yourself in the robe again, striding to the wooden frame that led to the baths.

The bath was large, framed by large netheril style collums often found in historical art books, warm and worn stone tile, and a break in the cave ceiling allowing dappled and golden rays to hit the water. The benches looked out of place. Large white wicker benches for patrons to nap in, they were guarded by stalks of wild flowers with round purple blooms. Clovers and Daisys lined the stone path. The bath itself held warm water lily pads, each with blooms of pink and purple. Framed at the end of the pool in a halo of light- hidden amongst the lilies sat a gentleman.

From the looks behind it seemed to be an older tiefling, long gorgeous horns that held ornate rings. Well polished with oils and held high above his head. Freckles dotted his skin and melted into the water above his stomach. Honey brown skin, accented with mottled patches of bright skin sewn in by pink stretch marks. His head was tilted to one side, he was napping in a bright puddle of sun. You set down you things inspecting him as you went. His hair was a deep chestnut brown, laden with bright tawny orange hair to dark black. Silver ran though most tying the highlights and lowlights together.

He was not muscular by any means, rounded cheeks and a soft belly. Perhaps he was in a class that required it less. You tentatively tested the water hissing at the heat radiating from the pool. The teifling stirred in his sleep as you adjusted to the heat.every step down into the water relayed a sharp and quick hiss. He was handsome to.say the least now that you had a closer look. A strong nose and thick brows. Soft lashes and smudged tattoo lines. You reclined against the tile and wondered what his eyes looked like. He startled slightly, the sun catching the strands of silver in his hair. He hummed in delight,eyes turned to the sun shut in bliss. An eye slowly opened, drinking in the volcanic pool filled with lilies. He cleared his throat and dipped something from a ceramic mug. The water barely doubled as he moved. His motions were deliberate and delicate.you sat stunned and silent before he showed any recognition of your presence. “I must apologize for my carelessness.” His voice was soft and gentle. It caressed your ears. He moved towards you with a lily pad underneath his hands. “the best first impression isn't drowning in front of such lovely company.'' His smile was warm and lopsided, his eyes deep pools of dark brown. “Where are you from traveler?” “wyrms crossing ” came your response

The other tilted their head. “It's outside of the main gate to the lower city, within Baldur's gate. The more convoluted answer is I'm originally from mephistar but I've lived in a lot of places due to apprenticeships.” He nods slowly, grasping the picture. “What do you specialize in? “Orchestral arrangements! I studied under Volo for a time period which specializes in music and bardic spells without vocal cantrips…” you trail off as he raises his eyebrow. “That's intriguing, perhaps the weave is a commonality between us.” his brow furrows, as he scratches his chin. “Are you here on business?” “Sort of, a divine intervention sort of thing.” “Divine?” That caught his interest. “Yes for the church of Tyr- I'm on my coming of age mission.” The lie laid easy on his psyche, the owner shifted his weight, settling on the bench beside you. “You will be here for long?” He tilted his head, a curl stuck to his wet cheek. “A bit yeah.” You shrug, “it depends on when my god deems it ready.” A flare of pain pinged through your head, a groan escaping your lips. “Sorry- headache” you excuse yourself- the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your skin. “Will I see you in the morning?” He called as you bundled yourself in a towel and robe “Tomorrow-” you chirped, padding to your room.

+++

The pain burned into your skull as you curled up under the covers. “Have patience my lady-” you gasped, clamping your eyes shut as you felt your body disintegrating beneath you.

++

You sat in the warm pool, floating with lily pads again, she watched you- perched on the stone bank, her lips touching the crystal goblet. You have done well she cooed, her words reverberating against your ribs You are oh so close, my sweet summer peach. Oh, you ached. Find him for me- Yes of course you would. Kill the beast.

#bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tav x gale #named tav #female tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #my tav #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate tav #tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 tav #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale romance #gale x oc #eventual smut #greek myth inspired #eros and psyche #the minotaur #bg3 au #minotaur!gale #wip #ch1 #bauldurs gate 3

[blackjackkent]

Diving back into Rakha's story today. I downloaded the Basket Full of Equipment mod to potentially mess around with some new looks for her but I need to get it from the grove merchant and I can't go there without triggering conversation with Zevlor to set up the party, and I would like to go to Waukeen's Rest first for Extra Wyll Content. So:

Long rest

Waukeen's Rest

Zevlor/Halsin/Kagha etc.

Party

Let's get rolling. :D

Coming back to camp in the wake of the goblin adventures, Rakha is pretty worn out. The beast in her head got quite a bit of exercise with all of the death from the goblins and it is a straining experience, even when they were people she actually did need to kill. But Gale wants to talk before she can sleep!

Her attention is drawn first by the way the Weave is swirling around him, the way it always does when he is casting a spell. It's a different motion than occurs when she casts her own; his are more precise, more carefully defined. More localized, the effects not spilling out into the Weave further beyond.

Today, he is casting an illusion - a woman's face, long hair and slender neck, cupped in the palm of his hand. His expression is terribly sad as he looks at her.

Rakha eyes the illusion with mild curiosity, takes a step forward up to his side. "Pretty," she says, noncommittally.

Gale jumps; his hand falls to his side and the illusion fades. "Oh!" He flushes. "My, you startled me. I was... miles away."

He's embarrassed. She isn't sure why. Who is that woman? "Is everything all right?" she asks cautiously.

He smiles ruefully. "More or less. I was lost in... prayer, of all things." He makes a vague gesture with the hand that conjured the unfamiliar face. "Mystra," he goes on, "for indeed it was her image I conjured, commands all magic. Salvation - if such a thing exists - is hers to bestow, or withhold."

A strange expression crosses his face for a moment - something like fear, or grief. "And yet, even now - more than I fear losing my own self and soul, I fear losing my command of her art."

He sits down slowly on a stool near his tent, rubbing his jaw. "Magic is... my life," he says thoughtfully. He seems to be speaking as much to himself as to her, his gaze turned inward. "I've been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it. It's like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses."

As Rakha listens to him describe it, she feels the odd twist of a slight smile on her lips. And for once, it is not the feral smile of the beast taking hold, but a true smile, an expression of pleasure. Gale has been very cautious around her, particularly since Alfira died, but what he is describing is something Rakha understands very well.

The sight of the Weave, its rolling colors and breathtaking energy, has been Rakha's first, truest - and in many ways, only - experience of beauty. And Gale understands this better than anyone.

He seems to register her change in expression, because his eyes clear and he looks up at her with gentle curiosity. "Is it the same for you?"

She does not have his command of words. If she did, perhaps she could describe something of what she sees in the magic of the world. But as it is... his description will suffice. "That sounds very familiar," she says quietly. "Yes."

He relaxes and looks somewhat pleased. There's a short pause, and then he says, somewhat hesitantly, "Perhaps we can share the experience by reaching into the Weave together."

Rakha blinks. This is not anything she expected, and it takes her a moment to decide how to respond.

Reaching into the Weave. He has just described how important his experience of magic is to him, and heard her agree and affirm what it is to her. And he wants to share it with her now.

This is a peace offering. A gesture of friendship from the man who has trusted her least, layered through the brightest thing in both their lives.

She finds that for a moment, she cannot speak at all. There's an odd tightness in her throat that has come from nowhere. When she does finally answer him, her voice feels hoarse, thick. "By all means."

"Then follow my lead." He moves to her side, lifts his hands, and she watches the Weave warp around him as he turns his wrists in a gentle arcane motion, conjuring a burst of pale light into the air in front of them.

His eyes flick to her expectantly. "Now you."

Her eyes drift half-closed. She does not know any name for what he did - but she can sense how it touched the magic around them. She can feel the nature of the spell even if she could not identify it. It is a binding, drawing the Weave tighter around them, pulling them into its fabric.

The movement comes to her hands naturally, imitating his gesture with a rougher edge.

[SORCERER] Imitate the gesture with ease.

There's a soft whump as the burst of power looses from her fingers, and she feels the bond that Gale began draw tighter around her. The magic ripples between them both, comforting. Safe.

Narrator: A familiar feeling - like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time. It's warm and comfortable.

Her heart rate feels like it has slowed from its neverending anxious pulse. She is still. She is at peace. It is not quite like the peace of her dreams of the guardian; she can still feel the muted background growl of the beast, the squirm of the worm in her temple. But it is the calmest she has ever felt in the waking world.

Gale smiles. "Excellent. Now repeat after me. Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao." The very air seems to rumble with the resonance of the words; she feels them vibrate along her skin, through her mind.

[ARCANA] You sense power in these words. Speak them deliberately.

There's another pulse of energy through them both as she enunciates each syllable carefully.

Narrator: Suddenly - the scent of rosewater and a sense of wellbeaing. A sliver of Weave that tastes sweet on the tongue.

She has never stood so fully inside the magic that drives her. For a moment everything else is forgotten, even the vengeful rage. She stares forward, her gaze unfocused, seeing past the world into the energy within it.

"Very good," Gale says softly. He too sounds dreamlike, lost in the moment. "Now I want you to picture the concept of harmony. As true as you can."

Harmony. It is not a concept she is deeply familiar with. All her instincts run towards destruction, towards conflict, towards the ripping apart of sinew and bone and soul.

Except this.

[SORCERER] Sink deep into your magic. It is who you are. It is home.

Another pulse. The Weave closes around them fully, locking them away from anything else.

Narrator: You see - or is it sense - the unmistakable presence of Mystra, the Lady of Mysteries. There's something like the anticipation of a kiss, then the pleasure of being cloaked in peace. You are safe. You are nestled in the cup of Mystra's hand.

She knows nothing of this Mystra. But she feels the magic all around her. She feels the peace and the safety and the comfort. And to her astonishment, she feels tears sprout in her eyes. She squeezes her eyes shut against them, baffled by the reaction, but she is sure Gale hears her breath catch in her chest.

He is watching her closely. "You did it," he murmurs. "You're channeling the Weave. How does it feel?"

[SORCERER] "Incredible," she whispers. Then, to cover the tight roil of emotion in her chest, a flash of equally uncharacteristic humor. "Though... of course, I could have managed it by myself..."

He laughs softly. "You're hard to please, aren't you?"

Narrator: The Weave connects you. The moment feels intimate.

For a long few moments she simply stands there, focused on the infinite depth of the magic playing along her skin. But she is conscious, too, of Gale's closeness. To bind himself into this fabric with her, even for these few moments, is an expression of unspoken trust. And she finds herself suddenly strangely afraid that, should she stay here too long, she will find some way to shatter that fragile trust apart. She knows she is capable of infinite destruction...

A satisfying end to a wondrous experience. It's time to let go.

Narrator: The Weave evaporates, and as it does so, you realize the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome.

"Oh..." Gale whispers softly, his head drawing back. "There it goes." A sudden deep sadness touches his gaze. "How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining..."

He takes a step back, turns away towards his tent. "Good night. I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you."

She remains very still, her eyes half-shut. She has no words to articulate the cocktail of unexpected emotion that has been poured through her in the last fifteen minutes. She feels as if she should follow him, tell him he has given her a gift, that she is grateful.

Instead, she turns and walks away, and feels the Weave slowly shiver its way off her skin, drop by drop.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #WELL #this was an unexpectedly deep little moment for rakha #very interesting indeed

[quinnthebard]

fresh starts

Gale & Named Sorcerer Tav (Kyra) 1373 words fluff, misunderstandings, tav is a little bit grumpy sometimes oops

Gale means well but the way he corrects Kyra's art of spellcrafting has frustrated her and this time it boils over. She awkwardly tries to make amends.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The wizard was infuriating.

Every time he opened his damn mouth, Kyra wasn’t sure if it was going to finally be the time she hit him for whatever conceited nonsense spilled out. Most recently he insulted her by asking if she was versed in magic. Which of course she was, they’d only been traveling together for an entire day, casting spells side by side. She obviously knew her way around spell slinging. But then he had the audacity to correct himself when she called him out for his stupidity and say he simply meant to ask if she was studied in magic. To which he continued on saying that of course she isn’t.

Gods.

Today though, she had reached her breaking point. It was something so silly she felt stupid for reacting but everything had finally boiled over. She was simply minding her business, fiddling with a light spell to entertain herself at camp. Nothing particularly difficult. Child’s play. Literally, she had been doing this since she were a child, before her scales had grown prominent enough that she used her bangs to hide them. But of course, she was doing something wrong, it wasn’t perfect. And of course, Gale had overheard.

“You know, if you just pronounce that last syllable from the back of your throat a bit more, it’d be more efficient.” He began to warble the sound, gargling behind her.

“Yes, but you see, I don’t particularly care.”

“But shouldn’t one strive for improvement?”

“Gale.”

“Here let me show you.”

She could feel his command over the Weave begin behind her. That familiar crackle of energy tinged ever so slightly with his touch.

“Gods, why are you like this?”

As quick as the magic came, it was gone, leaving an empty feeling behind. “What?”

“You’re constantly nitpicking or showing off your splendid education as if I don’t know anything. I know I’m no wizard but I’ve got experience with magic. It’s quite literally in my blood!”

“Is that how you see me?” Something broke in his voice.

“Isn’t that what you’re going for? Arrogant wizard who is clearly superior?”

“I thought you enjoyed my company.” His eyes were downcast as he avoided her gaze, turning away. “I hadn’t intended to be so imposing. Excuse me.”

“Gale, no, I—“ But he had scurried away and out of earshot before she thought to call after him in her shock. “Fuck.”

“Well that seemed to go wonderfully.” Astarion crept up behind her. “Couldn’t help but hear your delightful outburst from my tent. Finally snapped?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

She was not amused. “Yeah, I did. Excuse me.”

Stomping back to her tent, Kyra found herself in a worse mood than she’d ever been while mildly annoyed with Gale’s insistent insertion into her practice of magic. If she had just kept her bloody mouth shut, she wouldn’t have to deal with this oddly queasy feeling in her stomach. Stepping into her tent, she violently yanked the cord that held the flap up and descended into darkness before kicking a cushion and collapsing to the ground.

She’s known her entire life that she had a temper but obviously she hadn’t learned to control it and now she wasn’t sure how to fix this. Gale was a good guy even if his intelligence annoyed her. Because that’s what it was—he’s brilliant and she was a caster acting on instinct. Gods, how do I fix this?

Taking out a sheet of paper and a quill she kept on hand, she wrote on the top Things Gale Likes. She chewed on the tip absentmindedly as she thought then scribbled a few notes: books, cats, Mystra, the color purple? Maybe she could send a purple cat carrying a book as a peace offering?

She peered around her tent but there was hardly any books around. Well, except for this romance novel she bought off the Halfling merchant in the Emerald Grove. She thought it’d be fun entertainment on quiet nights but she hadn’t gotten to start it yet. Surely, Gale wouldn’t be interested in that? But maybe it was worth a shot.

Reaching towards her pack, she pulled out the book and then flipped the sheet of paper and began to write a note on the other side.

I’m terrible at apologies but I think you’re a good guy. I shouldn’t have gotten angry and I’m sorry I misinterpreted your acts of kindness as arrogance. I don’t have a lot of things but know you like to read and I have this book? Anyway, sorry again. Let me know if it's any good. I haven’t started it yet.

She cringed a bit at the message but before she could change her mind she summoned the familiar, gave it the note, and sent it to Gale’s tent. Once she was sure it reached him, she threw the book into a void, teleporting it to him, and shoved her face into the cushion she had kicked earlier and groaned loudly. Her heart pounded in her chest as time went on, anxious to know if her poor attempt at making amends had any results. It took a quarter hour, but that familiar sense of energy crackled in the air and out plopped a note made with an elegant script.

No need to apologize. I can be a bit intense I suppose and my social skills are lacking after being isolated for so long with only Tara for company. Since it clearly needs stating: I admire your capabilities, envious if I am to be honest. With nary a thought, you conjure the same effect that I would spend years studying to accomplish and it is absolutely astonishing. It is a blessing to witness.

Stunned, she stared at his response. Of course she must apologize! She was awful. Frustrated, she grabbed her pen and scribbled beneath.

You’re far too gracious. My apologies are indeed necessary.

And she returned it to sender before rolling onto her back, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

The response came much faster this time. Almost as soon as she had settled into her new position, it emerged from thin air and landed on her face. This time it was her original message but he had made adjustments to the back of the page where she had written her list. Her cheeks reddened. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to just grab a different sheet of paper and now he saw how little she knew about him. Gods, this was all so embarrassing. She steeled her nerves and reviewed the additions.

Things Gale Likes - books -assuredly - cats -correct but I must remind you that Tara is a tressym - Mystra -oh yes - the color purple? -I can see why you’d think this but I prefer blues. I just find purples suit me well

Kyra made a face, unimpressed that he chose to make corrections on her notes, but before she could even consider how to respond to such antics, another note arrived.

I appreciate the sentiment and I eagerly await the moment I can begin to read your book. Rest assured, I’ll find a way to repay your kindness.

Then at the end, far more hastily scratched as if an afterthought.

I will hear no arguments on your worthiness to receive such gifts. Accept them as graciously as you said I accepted your needless apology.

Speechless, Kyra read and reread the note. Gifts? Why would she receive gifts after so easily making him feel awful and sending such a horrible attempt at an apology. She scanned their interaction once, twice more unable to find an answer to her question. Perhaps he was lonely?

Perhaps he truly enjoys your company.

She snorted at the thought. She’s hardly enjoyable to be around—primary evidence: today.

Rather than continue to brood on this insane reaction to her stumbling, she quick sent a final note.

I look forward to it.

Then, rather than wait for a response, she snapped her fingers willing the lights to dim and curled up in her bedroll trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. When she woke up, a bundle of autumn crocuses resting nearby on top of a message.

A start to a beautiful friendship

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 act 1 #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #bg3 fic #this is pre relationship but I do ship these guys eventually in a friendly rivals to lovers sort of way #it is a sickness that I refuse to cure #originally I had cute typefaces for their messages but I'm too dumb for tumblr formatting oops #my writing

[aaluminiumas]

Into the Weave

Chapter One can be found here.

The detritus of the dilapidated temple was stinking death.

At first, you discerned nothing but sandy-colored ruins: thick clouds of dust wafting in the air covered the view. At the same time, the irregular, crooked outlines prepared you for the ruthless sight: the theater of cruelty was about to unfold before your eyes.

Once the dust settled down, you realized with horror that the square before the shrine was strewn with corpses. The unnaturally outstretched arms of one cadaver reminded you of an ancient mythical character who dreamed of flying to the sun. Not far from him lay a nun with a frozen rictus. She was clutching a white volume with gold embossing in her hands. From under the massive column that had once adorned the entrance to the temple, charred tibias protruded. On the altar, next to the Holy Book rested a severed hand with a thin ring inlaid with a blue gem. On the blood-stained pages, you made out a prayer celebrating a certain Aurora, a goddess whose name Mystra, for some reason, desperately wanted to erase from people's memory.

Out of the blue, Gale emerged. He wiped a red splatter off his cheek and winced as his sleeve brushed across the ragged edges of the wound. It wasn't his first battle, true, but he rarely got involved in fights, so he seemed a little disoriented and dazed. By the time he appeared on the battlefield, the melee had already been in full swing, and he did not have time to process the situation. Was it Mystra who started this ugly mess to help him get rid of the remorse that was sure to overwhelm him later? Or was there another cluster of fanatics wanting to take back something that never belonged to them in the first place? Was there a community of hostile bigots ready to take offense at a quiet cult, worshipping an unknown deity? Maybe the situation was much more complicated than he imagined... and much more nuanced than Mystra had described?..

Gale glanced at his hands and distantly registered that they were stained with gore, but he couldn’t comprehend whether it was his blood or someone else's. Mystra's sweet admonitions prevailed, and he participated in the massacre. Blinded and intoxicated by the mere idea of indirectly promised power, the wizard lost control and severely lambasted a belligerent cleric darting toward him with a scimitar. The goddess's voice throbbed in his head, reverberating and repeating, taking over his will. He could not think straight. Every picture his mind offered was generated by an erstwhile exchange with Mystra.  

Now he should stop and ponder things over. 

Glowering, Gale looked around. He approached the nun with the white book and carefully pulled it out of her lifeless hands. Aurora's Scripture. 

Breezing through the pages, the wizard tried to plow through the rituals, customs, and traditions dedicated to this deity, and when the realization struck, he stood there, rooted to the spot. 

Aurora, whom Mystra proclaimed a petty demon, was just a minor goddess of dawn. No matter how much she wanted to destroy the world, she simply did not wield enough power to compete with Mystra—or other known gods. 

Did Mystra... lie to him? Was it all... hoax?..

Suddenly, the picture fades. The memory dissipates.

“In a sense, I am still responsible for the destruction you’ve just observed,” Gale sighs, clearing his throat. “If you say we part ways after what you saw… so be it. I have been stalling for months, wondering if I should reveal this embarrassing fragment of my miserable biography, and the only purpose I pursued so far was honesty. I am not an infallible human. I am not the ideal man you may be looking for. I am not the perfect partner you undoubtedly deserve. I did wreak havoc in the past, punishing innocent people who worshipped a harmless goddess of dawn. I will not try to justify my wrongdoings by a maudlin apology or mawkish explanations; I know the only reaction it will provoke will be sheer repulsion,” the wizard paused for a moment, as if trying to regain his composure. “Probably, you might be feeling aversion already. Well. I am guilty. And I will accept your decision if you feel this burden is too much for you to bear.” 

You raise your eyebrows, not fully comprehending his train of thought. Are any of you perfect anyway? He seems to be comparing himself to the other members of the party, not even grasping a simple concept: you are ready to accept him the way he is. Yes, he’s made a lot of mistakes, blunders, even. Yes, he cannot be forgiven on the basis of his lack of knowledge. But hell, hasn’t he sincerely admitted that he was blinded by his love for Mystra—for the Weave, Magic incarnate? He was ready to sacrifice his own being to touch the untouchable, to dissolve in the endless patterns of sorcery and become history—in the most literal sense of the word. To many, these ulterior or not so ulterior motives evince his desire to make a difference, or exhibit his ambitious nature. To you, they represent his vulnerability: driven by his ungovernable imagination, Gale can throw himself in the thick of it, forgetting of his human needs.

You are here to tame his passions. You are here to become his pillar. You are here to help him navigate. The past should remain in the past, along with the vindictive goddess, claiming him her minion every time she needed to reassert her authority and do the dirty work. The past should remain in the past, along with the undulating affection, severe mood swings, and precise instructions directed at innocent people she chose to abhor. 

Gale takes your hands in his bigger palms and carefully brushes his lips across your knuckles, leaving a gentle, chaste kiss. In a moment, he softly pulls away and resumes his lengthy monologue.

“Tav… These hands are covered in blood. I will not caterwaul about it, swearing up and down that I didn’t mean any harm and it was Mystra who bludgeoned me to do it. But I will do my best to deserve you. I will rectify all my mistakes—”

You can’t wait any longer. Gale is certainly known for his propensity towards verbosity, but you’ve always told him that his practiced tongue should find some other use than futile volubility. Normally, he cackles at this and winks, feigning embarrassment, but you know his other penchants, too. But these are between you two. Not for anyone else to know—not even for Mystra.

Smiling, you squeeze his both hands and nod, putting an end to his inexhaustible loquacity. With a forceful tug, you haul him over to the tall sculpture of Mystra at the far wall of the temple. You know what he needs. 

Closure. 

He has to reconcile with his past to take a first step forward and start from scratch. His errors have contributed to his personality, and Mystra, no matter how much you disdain her for the haughty treatment and ambiguous decisions, has molded the man you love and admire. He is not perfect. But he is good enough to right the wrongs and atone for his offense.

Standing before the towering silhouette of Mystra, Gale grows silent: his distinguished eloquence gives way to speculation. He is contemplating his own choices, reflecting on the previous experiences, but his ruminations don’t seem to be boiling down to a bleak blur of old recollections. No, he’s meditating on his future—the future devoid of outright manipulation.

The wizard peruses the refined features, but his gaze is lacking habitual awe, reverence, and veneration. 

 “I’ve spent years loving you like mad,” he suddenly blurts out under his breath. “I sacrificed myself to the Weave to just feel the familiar tickling at the tips of my fingers. To just feel you. But you never loved me back. I was such a fool.” 

He shakes his head in frustration and sighs again. He is not the one to mourn his past, but it has never dawned upon him how much time he has actually dedicated to someone ready to spare him once necessary. Yes, Mystra is a proud goddess; she has her own views on what's right and what's wrong, but has she ever tried to condescend to a human being she’s teasingly called her lover? Has she ever taken pains to explain her vision of the world she has been planning to create?

Out of the blue, you sense a slight shift in the atmosphere, the tickling at the tips of your fingers. Is this the magic he’s constantly talking about? Is this what it feels like to be able to control spells? Is this is the sensation the Weave gives anyone it chooses? Whether it is the Weave to blame, or the inner impetus caused by a powerful emotion you dare not name, you approach Gale from behind and tenderly place your warm hand on his back. You don’t want to ruin the moment of the wizard, blankly staring at the monument, but your subtle touch only creates magic between you two. He quivers, wakes from his trance, and looks at you. With increasing astonishment, you realize he’s beaming with love and endearment. Sure, you’ve seen this emotion before, but he’s appeared so reserved that you’ve started to think you might’ve spotted a mirage. He’s been so affected by his previous setbacks that he’s never relinquished the hold on his feelings.

            Now he is contented. He feels safe, at ease, taken care of. And the thought that you’ve helped his wounds heal excites you so much that you cannot suppress your own smile.

 “On a brighter note, I seem to have finally found my personal happiness. One thing gods will never experience.”

You emit a quiet chuckle. This propensity towards verbosity is incurable, but at this point all his non sequiturs have become a charming idiosyncrasy you’ve learned to appreciate. Besides, you’ve found a way to shut him up. One kiss to his cheek is sufficient to silence him, but you can’t miss a chance to irk Mystra, so you press a fervent kiss to his lips—for the arrogant goddess to see. In fact, you’d do so many other things in front of that lovely sculpture, but you have to be respectful. At least, appear to be respectful.

You don’t know whether Gale reads your mind or his intuition tells him something you don’t know, but he turns to the stature again, straightens up his posture and says a few words that still resonate in your head. He has rejected the plaguing passion of the Magic—and chosen you over the Weave.

           “I will be your obedient servant, Mystra. But I will never knuckle down again.” 

#fanfiction #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 mystra #fuck mystra #gale x tav #gale x mystra #gale x reader

[junkdrawernoggin]

All These Colors Fade For You

Hey! So this is my first attempt at a drable piece. I pondered the idea in class yesterday and woke up this morning with the dark urge to write. Roughly 1300 words, Astarion X Durge

Content Warnings: Blood, violent thoughts, dry-heaving

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Every person had a favorite color. It was a simple thing that most people could agree on. Iv’a was a person, and therefore she too must have a favorite color. She tried to think, tried recalling such a simple fact about herself. Was it blue, like the skies above the Grove? Or yellow perhaps, like her eyes or the glittering topaz she had picked up in the Underdark.

It was simple little ideas like that which took up her mind in the days before reaching Baldur’s Gate. Who was this other woman that once occupied her mind? Surely she must have had desires, must have had a favorite color. In some very odd way, she mourned for that woman. Was there someone in Baldur’s Gate who might know all those little details about her?

Iv’a watched the fire blaze in front of her. Orange, with flickers of yellow, and…

A hand clapped down on her shoulder. “Lost in thought? I’ve found myself gazing into the fire often as of late. Your portion will cool if you don’t start on it soon though.”

Luckily, it was a welcome hand. Gale’s warm smile soothed her racing mind if only for a moment.

“Ever the camp mother, ay Gale? You know my temperamental stomach. Thought it better not to push, even if it meant missing out on your very adequate cooking.”

“Pardon me, adequate? For all the work I do around here, you’d think I’d get a bit of appreciation!” Gale gave his best effort of a pout and stern gaze, but they both cracked before long. A good chuckle tended to be his medicine of choice.

She considered her earlier question again; perhaps the sage might have some helpful insight. “Gale, might I pose you a question?”

“Just did, but I suppose another one can’t hurt.” She groaned, but he took the seat beside her.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“It’s not obvious?”

“Perhaps, but I want to hear your reasoning.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, like most choices in my early life, it was Mystra. For whatever reason, when I can truly see the weave it appears purple to me. Magic, the weave, it is everything to me. It’s easy for the color most associated with the thing you love to become a favorite. Then Mystra came along and it solidified things for me. I hope that makes sense outside of my head. Yourself?”

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted “I keep pulling on the threads of my memories hoping they will form a full fabric. It seems the more I pull, the more it all unravels. I thought an easy question would be a good place to start but it’s all distant.”

She kept the more complex thoughts to herself. Ketheric had given hints to her past, but nothing strong enough to stand on. The one fact she had was that “Haeliiv’a” as he had called her was…awful. Truly a despicable person who rightly deserved a painful and torturous death. But now it was not Hael in control of this body, but Iv’a.

Sharing hands with a murderer, and even more so sharing a face, meant taking responsibility for actions she couldn’t understand or recall.

She regretted staring at her hands. They were drenched in blood, and her stomach turned. Gale cleared a path as she ran for her tent. Unfortunately, her uneasy stomach had become a part of camp life they had to work around.

She bent over behind the structure, dry heaving. The grass against her fingers was a comfort as she gagged, eyes watering. Iv'a closed her eyes, begging her body to not work against her.

Cool familiar hands settled on her shoulders. The wizard’s stomach was not strong enough to watch her, let alone handle the smell. And no one else at camp dared to touch her so brazenly.

“Darling, not that this little habit of yours bothers me, but perhaps throwing up every other day isn’t great for your still-living body, hm?”

She sat back on her legs, out of breath and exhausted. It was a small blessing when she felt Astarion pull her against his chest. “But then I would have less use for my elf of an ice pack.” She tried to chuckle, but her throat burned.

“The blood?”

“Isn’t it always?”

The vampire sighed, “you know, it took me the first forty years to get over the sight of blood. Especially my own.”

“It’s not my own. If it were my own I could stomach it. But it’s Gale’s, and Shadowheart’s, and Wyll’s, and Karlach’s, and-and yours.”

“You do understand I don’t have blood of my own, so if you are seeing my blood it’s technically yours.”

If that was supposed to make her feel better, it did not. She slumped against him and tucked her hands into her armpits. Can’t make her sick if she can’t see them.

He set his head against hers, “I’m sorry for this.”

She whipped her head around to him, dizzying herself in the process. “What have you to apologize for? This is my fault, or rather her fault, but I suppose she wasn’t as queasy as I am. Would’ve been nice if she passed that on.”

“Iv’a, you worry me sometimes...” he caught himself. Honesty made him more uncomfortable than any of the close encounters to death they had experienced.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know?”

“Blame me for what?” For pressing a dagger into her chest, for carving out the thing that poisoned her. For sinking those sharp canines into it, still beating.

Iv'a shook her head. He wouldn’t do that. “For deciding I am too much. Too inconvenient. Too everything. I would never blame you. Hell, honestly it would make far more sense. Everyone else knows to keep their distance.”

“I’ll have you know that our closeness is a strategic advantage-”

“Yes yes, I understand you are terribly manipulating me and I am soon to wake up with no blood. You’d be doing the world a grand favor.”

It was Astarion’s turn to make brutal eye contact. He placed the most gentle of hands on her chin. Not forcing her to look, but making sure she couldn’t turn away. “You are not allowed to joke about that. Joke about murdering the wizard, or the githyanki, but you are not allowed to joke about dying yourself. I just started to figure out how to love someone, and if you take her away I will jump into the hells and fight you myself!”

She gazed into his eyes. Red, but not like blood. Red like sunsets, and red like rubies.

“What’s your favorite color Astarion?”

His face twisted to confusion. “I just had my big moment admitting that I truly care for you, and your response is not to throw yourself into my arms or kiss me like the sun is going out? You seriously just asked me what my favorite color was?”

She twisted her body around to face him, and placed her clean hands on his face dragging him into a kiss. Iv’a never kissed calmly or lightly. Her right hand held his neck at the nape while her left dug into the white curls he put so much effort into keeping pristine.

He tugged her forward, his hands resting in the small of her back and the back of her head. They tipped, and Astarion chuckled against her mouth, now laying on his back. He dragged his teeth over her lips, lightly enough to flavor the kiss with copper.

Her tongue easily slipped in, outlining the fangs of her lover. She only took a breath when it felt like her lungs might explode. His smile filled the emptiness persistent in her heart.

Astarion calmly swiped a thumb across her bottom lip, cleaning up. “I don’t know. I was stuck in the dark so long that every color seems newly wonderful.”

Astarion was a person. And Astarion didn’t have a favorite color. And maybe if he didn’t, that meant she could still be a person and not have one too. Maybe Iv'a didn’t have to be defined by her emptiness, and her attempt to fill it.

“I like that answer.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #writing #astarion #durge x astarion #bg3 durge #durge #dark urge #durge spoilers #bg3 dark urge #the dark urge

[recitedemise]

𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀. "With my condition as volatile as it is, I fear that any undue… excitement, may tip it over the edge - so to speak." For a year, he has endured the sinking teeth, that aching bite of the Netherese orb. It siphons magic from his body, complicates his ability to draw from the Weave, but even beyond that, all those matters more arcane, it denies him the freedom to boldly feel. To want in excess, indulgent and fierce. Or to anger, too, hot and spiteful. Any emotion, to be frank, that can rile his heart is, with that blight, remarkably paled. Gale's learned to school his reactions, often tempering sudden flashes of both hate and yearning, forced to but skim from the very top. With the orb unrestrained, he doesn't indulge in racy thoughts, is too careful to go for kisses or chase verbal spats, and turns often instead for his humble tent. He loses himself in books, goes down intellectual quandaries, and thoroughly distracts himself with repeated practice. He doesn't let himself revel in feelings. To be fair, he's not allowed to. Whenever Gale dares, his branded chest shimmers like jewel, and all his ribs and his veins start to grow their teeth. As a consequence, unfortunately, it makes the smallest things mountainous. Even the most innocent things can thunder his heart, and even the smallest of hopes can having him running.

Honestly, this is shown no clearer than in any attempt to romance Gale. During the scene where Gale shares in that magical, wonderful moment with the Weave, there is the thought to kiss him madly or, far more innocently, to join him on a walk, hand in hand. Regardless of the option, Gale blusters visibly, and with the color sprouting delightfully up his throat, there, too, springs awe and waves of yearning. It throttles him like a freight train, surprise grappling at his nerves, and he wants to want. He wants to chase. But he has to pull back, his blight singing its fierce disapproval before Gale contents himself with their half-shy smiles. Of course, he, too, didn't think this possible. Having tempered his feelings for so, so long, the idea that someone likes him is remarkably stunning. He almost thinks it a dream, especially after his fall with Mystra, but now with hope, he doesn't know what to do. He tries to distract himself with their journey and books. His orb scolds his heart. It's becoming much harder. And even after Elminster tames his condition, Gale still, for a time, schools his feelings 'knowing' his fate.

#HEADCANON. #I still lose my mind knowing if you just IMAGINE AN INNOCENT WALK with him holding hands #Gale just LOSES IT. #Literally just gushes about how with all that's happening... it's these sweet little thoughts that can rival ANYTHING. #God. This man is SO repressed. He is SO DEEPLY repressed. Truly he's such a juxtaposition. He aims so high and wants SO much #but that's only because him wanting such SMALL things was never enough for not /him/ but for /others/ (aka Mystra). #Tim said Gale would be so happy to just leave all of this when all is said and done and just... sit there on his terrace. And he is right. #I think he'd still have those pangs of wanting to do far more than ANYONE asks or expects but... he can control that better.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

WIP Monday? Yeah!

Lily (tiefling wild magic barbarian) waits for Gale to return from his visit with Mystra. NSFW.

Lily paced in front of Mystra’s statue at the Stormshore Tabernacle for what seemed like hours. Days. Years. Forever.

“You know dear, if you keep pacing like that, then they’ll have to replace the floor.” Astarion quipped, trying to keep the mood light as he, Lily, and Halsin awaited the wizard’s return. “I suppose that’s not too troublesome considering your mother is loaded.”

That’s certainly one word for it.

Halsin opened his mouth to speak but stopped as Mystra’s statue glowed purple.

And with a flash of Weave, Gale was back.

Lily rushed to him and hugged him tightly, nearly lifting him from the ground. “Oh my gods, you’re here! Did it go alright? Did she agree to remove the orb if we get the Crown? Are you okay? I was so worried!” She rambled, still hugging him.

“Erm, m-my love, I fear I cannot breathe…”

Oops.

She released her lover and gripped him by the shoulders, looking into his beautiful and perfect brown eyes. “Sorry! I was just so worried—”

Astarion nudged Halsin. “I think it’s time we leave the lovebirds alone for a bit, hmm?” He said with a wink. He then spotted the gnomish priest and snarled, “Out. Now.”

I need to thank Astarion later with a nice, long feed.

But first!!!

As soon as they were alone, Lily made what her mother called an “executive decision.”

She grabbed him by the collar of his robes and shoved him against the altar in front of Mystra’s statue. Tugging on his lower lip, she whispered, “Gale love, how pissed off would Mystra be if I fucked you on her altar?” You threw him away. The perfect man and you tossed him aside. Now. He’s. MINE. Her lover, normally the very definition of a gentleman, growled. Oh that’s very hot! “Exceedingly displeased, but how about we take it a step further, hmm?” With the snap of his fingers, their clothes were gone and strapped to Lily was a dildo the color of her pale pink skin. “Take me, darling. Please. I beg of you…”

#lily wildheart #lily x gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #in this house we hate mystra #wip #tiefling tav #plus size tav #chubby gale #barbarian tav #with cameos from halsin and astarion lol