#midwinter in waterdeep

[weaveandwood]

Midwinter in Waterdeep: Part Two

Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read on AO3 | Read Part One | Read Part Three

Summary:

After the defeat of the Netherbrain, Gale Dekarios was a wizard of intentionally lesser renown, a respected professor at Blackstaff Academy, and engaged to the love of his life. His life was enchanted until he came home to an empty tower, and he has been seeing ghosts ever since.

He saw her ghost everywhere.  She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. 

AN: There will be a Part 3 to conclude this and it will be out later this weekend. Thank you all so much for your support on what was supposed to be a one-shot that has taken over my brain completely.

He saw her ghost everywhere. 

She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. He knew her leaving was inevitable the more their conversations became stilted, the more they floated in each other's orbits, the more foreign her touch became. But the tower still smelled like her, still felt like her presence was just around the corner. Still felt like they could have had a chance to fix things. He heard her in his head all night long as he wept in his study. 

It’s not real. She’s not here.  

She haunted him on his walk back from visiting his mother two weeks later, the first time he left his house. He had tried to lay low after she left him, but her name followed him like a poltergeist from the mouths of those he passed on the street, whispering to their friends about who he was, who she was. Wondering how it ended.

It's not real. She’s not here. 

She haunted him when he was in the market four months after she left. He didn’t want to be there. Everything reminded him of her - the cart they would visit once a tenday to buy her favorite sweet rolls, the jewelry store he visited in secret to get her silver ring that was still on the entry table gathering dust. He saw a flash of her hair color and froze. When time regained its ability to move forward he strained his neck, pushing through the crowd searching for her, unable to breathe. Could it be her? Where had she been all these weeks? Was she okay? Had she moved on with someone else who was less tied down by routine? Was she even still alive? 

It wasn’t her, of course. He didn’t go to the market again after that. He still hasn’t.

It’s not real. She’s not here. 

Seasons passed. Festivals, new apprentices, weekly dinners with colleagues - life fell into a rhythm that helped him move forward. He saw her ghost less and less. It had been almost 6 months since the last haunting. He had finally tucked the silver ring into a drawer two tendays ago, an attempt to bury the what ifs and if onlys and begin to exorcize her from his memory at last. Midwinter in Waterdeep was upon him, and he was eager to engage in festivities that evening with colleagues, now friends. A few cups of wine and he felt like the old Gale, showing off a little by using his well-honed magic to create fireworks to fill the room with light and color.

As the illusion sparked and fizzled out to the delight and applause of the other partygoers, a familiar wisp settled itself in the peripheries of his mind. She always loved his illusions, from their first night together with the aurora and the sparkling stars to the smaller ones he created for her everyday in the beginning. If he had kept trying to make her happy, would she have left? If he had noticed her pulling away as he settled into the routine of his life, could he have brought her closer instead of making her feel like her only option was to run?

He set his cup down, the wine steering him toward paths his brain wasn’t ready to go back down yet, preferring to stay focused on the revelry at hand. The snow flurries caught his eye through the large picture window in the front room. He had always loved the snow and moved to the window to watch it in contemplative silence.

He froze, his eyes widened, breath caught in his throat.

Her ghost. Haunting him even here, even now, after all this time. Her hair, her eyes, everything just as he remembered from the morning she left him, standing across the street looking into the window he was currently occupying. Looking at him. He saw the ghost’s eyes widen, saw her quickly turn to walk away, to escape discovery. He wanted to hesitate. He wanted to accept it was just another vision brought on by too many cups of wine, another falsehood of his imagination...but one tiny spark of hope pulled at his mind. 

The ghost had never reacted to him like that before. 

He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember running out of the door, the rest of the partygoers gasping as the usually reserved Gale Dekarios knocked over a chair and pushed people out of his way. He didn’t remember the bite of the cold air. He didn’t remember yelling “Stop!” as the ghost moved quickly away, trying to toy with him, as always. He didn’t remember running down the street to catch up to the ghost, preparing himself for it to disappear as usual. He didn’t remember the desperation on his face or in his voice as he reached for her.

He remembered grabbing on to the ghost’s hand, feeling it solid in his. His heart pounded.

“Wait. Please,” he said, panting. The ghost turned around, but it wasn’t a ghost at all. 

She was real.  She was here.  

“Gale,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“You’re real. You’re here,” he whispered back, wrapping her in his arms, committing to memory how she felt as he held her tightly for the first time in over a year. It was only then he realized that her absence had permeated every facet of his being and he felt like he could finally breathe again. His lips crashed against hers, time standing still for the two of them as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

She took a step back, breaking their contact, looking down at the ground.

He knew. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow,” she nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

He placed his hands on both sides of her face, brushing away her sadness before kissing her deeply one more time.

Real. Here. 

“Then let me have tonight.”

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #my writing #gale of waterdeep #midwinter in waterdeep #baldur’s gate 3

[sweetestlittledarling]

A Little Holiday Fluff

*Note: This is a stupid little thing that popped into my mind late at night and wanted to write before the holiday's goes past. It takes place in Gale and My Tav's, Finley (They/Them) first holiday as a married couple so takes place after the game. Also I looked up the holidays in Dnd and settled on Midwinter. In our home Dnd game it's called 'Winter's Day' <3. Hope you all have a good Holiday whatever you celebrate.

“What’s this Tara?” Finley asked looking over the little chest. It was just a small and simple-looking thing that had been hidden in the back of the bedroom closet. Finley hadn't actually noticed it before until Tara had pointed it out.

“This is something that is in dire need of doing,” Tara instructed. “Open the chest and you will see what I mean.”

Finley raised an eyebrow at Tara’s serious tone but nodded. They opened the chest and peered inside. “Are these- “

“They are Midwinter decorations,” Tara finished for them. “I have heard that Halflings celebrate this holiday, yes?”

“Among many others,” Finley said, picking up one of the colorful baubles from the box, looking at it carefully. “We halflins’ tend to take our holidays very seriously, though most of the time a holiday is an excuse to get everyone together to eat and drink.”

“Well right now I need you to focus more on the decorating part as we need to put up these decorations before Mister Dekarios returns this evening.”

“Wait, you want ME to help you decorate the tower?”

“Yes,” Tara stated, looking at the box almost with a wistful look, “because I feel Mister Dekarios deserves a happy holiday season this year. When he was trapped here in his tower because of the orb, I wanted to give him a bit of normalcy and celebration at this time of year. But sadly, I was unable to help as I was busy keeping him alive. Plus, I don’t have those things at the ends of your hands.”

“You mean apposable thumbs?”

“Yes, those. This year we have you living here, and Mister Dekarios is not in danger of exploding, so I feel that he can finally have the celebration he deserves. That is if you will help me.”

Finley looked at the decorations and then at Tara. They smiled softly as they nodded. “Of course, I’ll help. In all honesty I don’t think you could stop me.”

(A few hours later…)

“You don’t think we went a little overboard?” Finley asked as they placed up the last bit of garland along the hearth. They looked around the room at all the glittery and festive colors. To them it was very beautiful but they still worried.

“If it were too much, I would tell you,” Tara answered, taking a moment to scratch at the red bow once again around her neck. “Are you sure that this thing is necessary?”

“You look adorable Tara,” Finley answered, clicking their boots of flying to lower them to the ground. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

“Well, I will wear it at least until Mister Dekarios comes home, and then I will probably demand you remove it before I rip it to shreds.”

As if on cue, the door to the tower opened, letting in a quick bitter cold wind before it quickly closed again behind Gale who was rubbing at his hands. “By the Weave, it is colder than the elemental plane of ice out there!” he cursed as he removed his outwear, hanging it up in the appropriate spot. “I swear it is getting colder and colder each- “As he stepped out into the main living area, Gale paused, his eyes taking in all the decorations. He stood there in silence just drinking in the scene.

“Do you like it?” Finley asked, a little hesitantly. “We tried to make it look as good as possible. I mean we might have gone a little overboard on the-” Finley let out a little shriek as Gale silenced their worried words by lowering himself to his knees and pulling them into his arms. His cold hands made them shiver. “Gale! Your hands are freezing!”

“Well call it revenge for your cold toes in bed!” Gale laughed, pulling them close.

“Excuse you, I have bad circulation and can't help that,” Finley protested, though they didn’t really fight back against the hold. Instead, they looked into Gale’s sparkling eyes and smiled. “Do you like it?” they asked softly.

“I love it,” Gale answered, kissing them gently. “Honestly my love, I haven’t had such a beautiful surprise in a long time, thank you.”

“Well to be fair, this was all Tara’s idea. She wanted to do somethin’ nice for you since you didn’t get to celebrate in years past.”

“Indeed,” Tara said, hoping up onto Gale’s shoulders. “And now that the surprise has been had, I ask that you remove this thing from around my neck.”

“Okay, okay,” Finley chuckled, reaching up to remove the bow, “but you do look really cute with it on.”

Gale smiled as he reached up and scratched Tara behind the ears. “Thank you, Tara, I do not know what I would ever do without you.”

“I would wager you would probably be dead,” Tara assessed. “But thankfully you do have me and your partner to make sure you don’t put yourself into parrel ever again.”

“Indeed,” Gale said turning back to Finley, his eyes shining. "Truly I have been blessed by the Gods this Midwinter to have you both here with me. A blessing I intend to treasure for as long as I live.” Gale kissed Finley one more time before standing once again. “This tower has never looked so lovely, but I think it is missing a little something.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly the ceiling was decorated with a smattering of sparkling stars and galaxies.

“Wow,” Finley sighed in amazement, watching the stars and galaxies as they swirled, “you really haven’t lost your touch darlin’.”

Gale grinned as he gave a little bow. “And now for my next trick, I will make us a Midwinter feast fit for royalty, followed by wine and a warm fire to warm ourselves by. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Finley answered, sharing a happy look with a very satisfied tressym.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #fanfiction #bg3 tav #gale x oc #Halfling #bg3 tara #tara bg3 #baldurs gate #ficlet #my writing #Finley Sparkwing #fluff #Midwinter

[charmandabear]

Yule

Summary:

While snuggling by the Yule fire, you forget just how sensitive elf ears can be.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 2.2k Tags/Warnings: post-game spoilers, cunnilingus, blood drinking, p in v sex, spawn!Astarion, soft!Astarion, fluff and smut, Astarion deserves to be bitten too

Read it on AO3.

Enough people said they'd still be interested in reading holiday-related fics even after the holidays, so here you go! Huge shout-outs to Idylla for their incredible art used in the banner. Their modern!Astarion absolutely ruins me.

Midwinter Nights: Yule | Christmas | New Year's Eve

Astarion curled against you as the Yule fire burned low in the hearth. You knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake all night, despite his insistence to the contrary. It amused you even more because, as an elf, he didn’t really need to sleep. But he had grown so accustomed to it at this point, snuggling up with you each night as you got your mandatory eight hours, it was a harder habit to break. 

You had only just put the most recent batch of cookies in the oven, but you were a little concerned for what would happen when you needed to take them out. Astarion was much like a cat in that way; if he climbed on top of you, it was a crime to disturb him. You could lay there forever, pinned beneath his weight, and you’d thank the gods for it. 

You peered down at him, sleeping so peacefully. He almost looked like a cat, pointy ears occasionally flicking at the warm air that emanated from the fire. You could practically see his tail swishing contentedly. Ever since killing Cazador and reclaiming his freedom, he’d been so drawn to creature comforts, looking for softness and indulgence in all he could find. 

You ran your fingers through his white curls, scratching his scalp absentmindedly. He shifted in his sleep, subconscious nudging him into your touch. You would sit here all night if you could, nails dancing over his pale skin while he slept soundly. You knew that eventually your timer would go off and you would need to take this latest batch of cookies out. But for now, at least, you could just enjoy having him pressed up against your side.

You stared into the fire as your hand wandered, gently stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck. You marveled at how much had changed in these past few months. Karlach and Wyll ventured to Avernus to fight on the front lines of the Blood War, and while you missed them, you knew you were only a ritual away from seeing them at the House of Hope. Gale had gone back to continue his studies in Waterdeep, and Lae’zel found herself living a surprising life of domestic bliss with Shadowheart, newly reunited with her parents. You haven’t heard much from Halsin, Jaheira, or Minsc, but you were certain that they were finding respite wherever they were. 

As you’re getting lost in your thoughts, you stopped paying attention to where your hand flitted across Astarion’s skin; that is, until you heard a breathy moan escape his lips. You looked down and realized that you were running the tip of your pointer around the shell of his ear. You pulled away suddenly, embarrassed as you realized you were basically doing the elf equivalent of teasing his nipples. He whined at the sudden loss of contact, and you sat frozen, unsure if he was awake or not. 

He stirred, legs squirming against a definitive bulge growing in his loose pants. He sat up and blinked sleepily, gears turning as he put together where he was. He turned to you and suddenly his eyes focused, pupils wide like a cat focused on its prey. 

“If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked, you know,” he said in a low purr, and you could feel yourself clench in response to the fire his words stoked deep in your core. 

“Sorry love, it was an accident,” you whispered, trying to sound cool but the crack in your voice gave you away. 

“Accident or no, you’ve made your bed, so I hope you’re ready to lie in it,” he said with a grin, fangs glinting in the firelight. He launched himself onto you, kissing you roughly as he tangled his hands in your hair. You tried to regain your breath as you kissed him back, your hands scrambling for purchase on his clean linen shirt. Your body bent back with the weight of his as he shifted on top of you, prying your legs open with his knee. An unseemly moan escaped your lips as he pressed his hardness right up to the apex of your thighs. You ran your fingers through his hair, though whether it was to regain control or just hang on for dear life, you couldn’t tell. 

Between the heat radiating from the fire, the slight delirium from staying up all night, and the way that your arousal for this man made your head swim, you could barely think straight. He continued to roll his hips into you obscenely, and you could feel the telltale dampness seeping into your small clothes. You spread your legs a little wider, trying to feel that delicious friction through the several layers of fabric that separated you. 

You broke the kiss to take in a gulp of air, beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. His lips migrated to your neck, flicking the tip of his tongue along the puncture wound that had only recently closed up. A shudder surged through your body at the sensation and you squirmed involuntarily, your body urging you closer to his. You rolled your head away from him, presenting your neck as a silent offering as you had so many times before. He needed no further invitation and sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh, your simultaneous groans of pleasure mingling together in your ears. You knew you were courting danger by letting him bite when you were already woozy, but it was worth the risk for the good it did you both. He always became a little more powerful, a little more dominant right after drinking your blood; for you, the feeling of him siphoning just a little of your life force away gave you an unmatched feeling of ecstasy.

He detached himself from your neck and looked down at you, panting. The sight of him post-feeding always sent you into a frenzy. His cheeks and ears uncharacteristically flushed, his bloody lips in a sedate half-smile, hair a tousled mess, and a wild look in his eyes like he was ready to devour you. You could only imagine what he saw in return; your hair splayed out beneath you, eyes glassy, mouth open in a suspended moan as blood trickled down your neck.

He ran a hand down the front of your blouse and you arched your back to meet his touch. He was still pressed between your legs, your knees hooked around his waist. He ran a finger along the waistband of your pants, causing you to whine needily.

“Tell me what it is you want, pet,” he purred, the predatory cat out in full force. Your hips bucked up against him as you grasped at the rug beneath you. He looked so gorgeous in the orangey firelight, his skin soft and glowy. You pawed wantonly at the hem of his shirt, any semblance of speech leaving your body. He grabbed your flailing wrists and pinned them above your head, bringing his lips within an inch of yours.

“Your words, love. Tell me what you want,” he growled, a little more forcefully than before, eliciting another desperate mewl. 

“Ah- I.. Astarion,” you pled with him and he grinned, fangs pressing into your lips.

“Yes?” The word was a breathless whisper. He looked down the length of his nose at you, crimson eyes piercing into you.

“I want you to taste me,” you squeaked out, writhing beneath the hard length of his body. He pressed his lips to your ear just as he pressed his erection into your mound.

“Good girl,” he hissed, and pushed off your chest to slink downward to your hips. He grabbed your waistband and slid your pants down over your ass, dragging his cool hands across your heated skin. He pressed his lips into your hip and you arched into him, yearning to feel him on every inch of you. Your skin prickled from the heat of the fire, his contrasting touch making you shiver. 

He traveled downward, each kiss pulling a new and more debaucherous sound from your throat. His lips hovered above yours and he relished in making you twitch with need. After a second of teasing that felt like an eternity, he swiped his tongue along your slit and you groaned in relief. He dug his fingers into your thighs as he gently lapped at your folds, making you feel more heated with each pass. He spread your lips apart with his dexterous fingers, tracing lazy shapes with the tip of his tongue.

Your fingers curled into his hair once more, hoping to regain control of your cantering hips. He pushed his tongue deeper into you and your breath grew ragged, your hips begging to fully fuck his face. He relented to your control, letting you grind on his lips and tongue to chase your own satisfaction. Your cries grew in tandem with the pressure that mounted in your core, and this time when your hands wandered to stroke his ears, it was intentional. He moaned into your cunt, a deep, primal sound that sent vibrations directly to your clit, sending you over the edge. He buried his face into you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, thighs squeezing around his head.

He pulled away once the pulses had subsided and you delighted to see his disheveled face, your juices reflecting in the firelight. He roughly pulled you up onto his lap, pulling your still sensitive swell down hard onto his erection. You moaned into his lips, sharing the taste of you with him.

“You saucy little minx,” he growled even as you could feel his smile through the kiss. Your fingers fumbled at his waistband, desperate to free him and feel him inside you. He peeled your blouse over the top of his head just as you released his cock from his trousers, tip already glistening with precum. Your breath hitched at the sight of it, your pussy already aching to be filled.

The length of his cock teased your folds, and he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the pad of his thumb skating over the pert nipple. You threw your head back, raising your tits up with a heaving breath just so he could latch on with his mouth, suckling gently. Your arms around his neck, you danced your fingers close to his ear, teasing him as much as you were asking him for more. He pulled off your nipple with a pop and stared red hot daggers into you.

“Careful love. Mess with the cat and get the claws,” he warned in a low and dangerous whisper. He raised your hips up and pulled you down in one fell stroke onto his stiffened cock. The cry he tore out of you was your most obscene yet, but you were already so wet and hungry for him that you slid down to his base without resistance.

You began to ride his dick, your knees pressing against the floor as he stretched you out with every thrust. Now it was his turn to toss his head back, leaving his pale throat open and vulnerable. You sunk your teeth into the cold flesh, your dull human incisors not actually piercing skin, but eliciting a delicious groan from him nonetheless. He kept his hands squarely on your hips as you bounced up and down, relishing the slide of him along your inner walls.

You wanted to see him lose himself in you. You wanted him to come undone like you were. You needed more of those breathy moans in your ear as he unleashed the predator within.

You nipped at his earlobe.

Almost as though an external force possessed his body, he slammed you down onto your back without pulling out of you. He pushed your knees up to your ears and pounded into you forcefully, the edge of your second orgasm rapidly approaching. Your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts, and it took everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch him unravel above you. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his red eyes looked down on you, positively feral. You could see his fangs through the soft o-shape his mouth formed as he came, his orgasm sending you crashing into yours. You could still feel his cock throbbing inside you with each burst of his seed even as your vision slowly faded into black.

You awoke a few moments later curled up on some pillows and a cool washcloth laid across your forehead. Next to you was a glass of water which you gulped down eagerly.

Astarion came back into the room, face still looking deliciously flushed and bitten, with a small plate of cookies. He kneeled down next to you and held one up to your lips, and you accepted the snack without hesitation. He pulled the washcloth from your forehead and kissed your cool damp skin, his lips almost warm in comparison.

“Love, you can't scare me like that. I thought I fucked you into a coma. If you're feeling unwell, say something,” he said, red eyes full of concern. You wave it off with a shrug.

“What can I say? Maybe I like messing with the cat,” you respond with a giggle as you bite down on your cookie, teeth bared playfully.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion fluff #fluff and smut #baldurs gate smut #astarion x reader #astarion x you #fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion

[littlejuicebox]

Skin to skin.

Surprise surprise! A little drabble about baby Gale’s first few days of life. I love Dadstarion. This isn’t edited. Maybe I’ll edit it a bit later.

Warnings: babies, pregnancy, breeding and daddy kink if you squint really hard and hold a magnifying glass lol, mostly just fluffy feel good ridiculousness

A/N: I love Dadstarion and baby Gale OKAY

In case you’re new here’s the gist. Astarion had the Wish Spell turn him mortal, courtesy of Gale of Waterdeep (see ‘The Wish Spell Worked’ for details). Baby Gale was named to honor the Wizard. Here’s the labor and delivery story if you’re interested.

****

Baby Gale’s previously pink skin is tinged yellow when Astarion peers into the bassinet to admire the infant a few days after his birth. The sight instantly worries the elf; his stomach churns with concern.

The new father glances to where you are sleeping so soundly in bed, your first real lengthy stretch of rest in several days.

Shit.

Astarion doesn’t want to wake you and cause worry when you’ve had such a hard time sleeping these past few days. Every small whimper and coo from the newborn practically ripped his little love from precious, much-needed rest in a panic.

He thinks it might be nothing. Gale is still breathing and sleeping peacefully, and he doesn’t feel feverish. But he doesn’t know what to do, and wants to be absolutely sure, so Astarion carefully scoops the little one up, wrapping him tightly in the soft, embroidered blanket he’d made for his son one Midwinter evening.

“Come now, little prince. Let’s see what Auntie Shadowheart has to say.” The elf whispers to the bundle of blankets as he heads to the guest chambers.

After a quick examination, Shadowheart eases Astarion’s concerns with an uncharacteristically gentle tone. He thinks it’s likely because Gale is still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“It’s just a bit of jaundice, Astarion. Quite common in newborns. It’s good you didn’t wake Tav, she would’ve had a fit if she saw Gale like this with no explanation.” The cleric murmurs, peering down at the little one, “Perhaps a bit of sunlight and fresh air for Gale, and I’ll draft some herbal teas for Tav to drink so the supplements will reach him when he feeds. I can sit with Gale in the sunroom, if you’d like to go back to Tav.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take him.” Astarion responds, and with a genuine tone that seems to be more and more common as he addresses his friends throughout the years, he whispers, “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

*

Ever since the Wish Spell granted him mortality, Astarion quite liked the sunroom. He typically took his afternoon tea here, basking in the sun’s rays and trying desperately to make up for the hundreds of years where he missed out on that wonderful aspect of nature.

But now, Gale is fussing slightly as a breeze carries through the open window, tossing his tiny silver curls about and causing a new sensation he doesn’t seem to like. His yellow-tinged face grows red in irritation, and his father is bouncing him, offering whispered coos of comfort and trying to settle the newborn. And Astarion is beginning to think the sunroom is a horrible place to be.

The baby is wailing when you appear in the doorframe, holding a tray of tea, and watching your husband as he worriedly begs Gale to settle down.

“Perhaps a bit of skin to skin, daddy.” You suggest gently as you enter the sun room and place the tray on a table nearby. You wrap Gale in your arms and gesture for Astarion to remove his shirt. He obliges with a frustrated huff and small roll of his eyes.

“You don’t need to use your flower child sensibilities as an excuse to see me shirtless, love. You really need only ask. I fail to see how this—“

You admonish Astarion with a small shh as you unwrap the still fussy newborn from his blanket before placing Gale on the elf’s chest. Then you drape the small piece of cloth over the baby.

“Now lay back.” You command, propping a pillow slightly so that Astarion can recline himself further onto the sofa. All at once, Gale seems to melt into the warmth of his father’s chest with a satisfied coo.

“What was that about my flower child sensibilities?” You ask your husband as you sit down on the couch, intent on sipping some of the tea Shadowheart brewed for you.

Astarion sighs. Bested, once again, it seems. He brings his hand up to rest it on Gale’s small back, feeling the sensation of his tiny body rising and falling with each tiny breath.

“Nothing, dear.” He murmurs before placing a gentle kiss on the newborn’s head.

You chuckle softly and then watch the duo with a content, love-sick smile, “I should tell you, Astarion. I don’t think you’ve ever looked more handsome than you do right now, shirtless and holding our jaundiced newborn in the sun.”

Your husband’s eyebrow cocks as he lifts his gaze from Gale to you, a small smirk stretching across his lips before he offers you a playful wink, “If you like this, darling, just wait until you watch me change a diaper or bathe Gale for the first time.”

You shake your head and laugh softly again as you sip your tea, “Yes, you may positively turn into a god before my eyes when I see that… and convince me to have more of your offspring, just to keep those visions coming.”

A little hum from Astarion as he considers this, “Then I shall certainly do my best to be as domestic as possible, darling. You were quite fetching, when pregnant with Gale, dear. I do hope that’s not the last time I get to witness you like that.”

“I don’t think it will be the last time I’m swollen with your seed, daddy.” You whisper with a wink in your husband’s direction, causing the flush on his ears to rise, “But for now, let’s just worry about returning this first one back to pink. Then we can discuss others.”

Astarion nods with a content smile and then closes his eyes as he holds Gale. Before long, your husband is sleeping with the newborn on his chest, unable to stay awake any longer as he’s also been positively exhausted from the past few days. The new father stirs slightly when you remove Gale from his arms, readying for the baby’s next feeding, but you soothe your partner and tell him to go back to sleep.

Astarion remains napping for a few hours, basking in the warmth of the sun and dreaming about three or four little silver-haired children running around the house, filling it with laughter.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #baulders gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #Astarion x reader insert #dadstarion fic #dadstarion

[kittenintheden]

No Thoughts, Just Vibes

Oh, you know, just a little Solstice/Midwinter treat for you. Enjoy!

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Tav (descriptionless) (BG3) Content warnings: PWP, PIV sex, oral sex, sex toys, tooth-rotting fluff

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Their adventures by night in Faerún take them all over, from the Underdark to check up on Astarion’s siblings and their new spawn charges to Waterdeep in search of potential arcane solutions for certain undead individuals with sun sensitivity.

In fact, they find themselves entering Waterdeep just in time for Midwinter. The magicked streetlamps of the place glow golden and are festooned with all manner of wintery decorations, which feel oddly out of place in the seaside city but have a magic all their own nonetheless.

It’s just past dark when they approach a wizard’s tower, having spent the daylight hours getting to know the tavern and inn down the way while the sun still sparkled off the water. Now that it’s safe once again, Astarion and Tav ring the bell near the tower door and are greeted with a series of chiming meows in the style of a popular carol.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Astarion says, smirking despite himself. “And yet.”

“Let him be the dork of his dreams,” Tav chides playfully. “He deserves it. We all do.”

On cue, the large door of cypress wood before them swings open and their wizard friend holds out his hands in the foyer of his tower, arms wide.

“You made it!” Gale says, beaming. “Come, come inside. Please mind Tara, she’s been quite taken with the mistleberry and has made herself sick more than once despite my gentle reminders .” He yells the last words toward the spiraling staircase and from a nook nestled high in the wall, he receives a hiss in response.

“Relateable,” Astarion mutters as he comes inside, but he accepts an embrace from Gale nonetheless, giving him a stilted pat on the back.

Truly, the lot of them are glad their adventuring brought them to Gale’s doorstep. It’s nice to be off the road and surrounded by modern luxury again, and the wizard’s gone out of his way to ensure their modest celebration is full of delights. He’s even procured a top-vintage sanguine refreshment for Astarion.

“Did you imbue this with clove?” he asks, swirling it in his goblet and giving it another sniff.

“Not exactly,” Gale says, cheeks rosy from his own imbibed glass of wine. “Were you aware certain herbal and spiced components cross the blood barrier when inhaled or consumed? Give the resulting blood a bit of an essence for a certain frame of time. Garlic is the most common offender, but I thought I’d skip it, in this case. This donation came from a dear friend in the spice trade. One who doesn’t ask many questions and frequently dabbles in certain other trades.”

Astarion blinks against the verbal onslaught, then turns to Tav and says, “Hold on. Is that why I break out in hives after you’ve put too much garlic in your food?”

Tav’s also delightfully tipsy and she raises her glass to him. “I love you, dearest, but I’m not giving up garlic for you. Some prices are simply too steep.”

The night winds on and on like that until eventually Tav nods a sleepy head onto Astarion’s shoulder and he guides her off to bed in the spare room at the base of the tower. He returns to Gale, who’s ragaling Tara with his own rendition of “Marvelous Midwinter” to her great disdain.

“So, Gale,” Astarion says, interrupting to give Tara an appropriately respectful scritch on her head. “I have a bit of a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Gale says, swaying. “How can I help?”

Astarion reaches into his pocket and procures a folded bit of something. He hands it to Gale, who unfolds it and examines it with some curiosity before cocking a brow at him.

“Any possibility of, erm. Recreating something to this effect?” Astarion asks. “One tied to a command word, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gale says, going into tinkering mode as he examines the object. “I would need a few components, but luckily I have them in stock, thanks once again to my spice merchant friend. A little bit of articifer ingenuity to craft an arcane battery, some relatively complex enchantment, and a… wait.”

Gale gives Astarion another look and the vampire tilts his head and smirks.

“Right, I’m not asking,” Gale says, eyes back on his new puzzle. “Give me a day.”

“Lucky we’ll be here for three,” Astarion says with a light laugh.

The morning of Waterdeep’s official Midwinter celebration dawns bright and mild, the sea breeze rustling through the thick curtains they keep drawn in the guest room to ensure Astarion doesn’t wake up with burns or worse. They doze in the double bed in their underthings, Tav draped across Astarion’s chest and breathing softly as she wavers in and out of sleep. He’d actually fallen asleep last night, pressed up safe against her, and now he smiles into her hair, tracing his fingers up and down her arm.

Eventually she stretches along the length of her body and yawns against his skin, resting her chin on him and looking up into his face. She blinks lazily and runs a finger over the length of his nose with a delicate touch.

“Morning, dear,” she says, voice still rusty with sleep.

“Happy Midwinter, my love,” he murmurs in return. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Tav purrs, sitting up a bit. “Is it fun?”

He arches a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

Astarion tangles his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and draws her to his mouth, kissing her deeply as she relaxes into his body, letting her tongue stroke against his. He rolls them both to their sides and hooks his leg over hers, taking his time as he lights up her skin in all the ways he knows she loves. She laughs, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him, and he licks along the column of it, though he doesn’t bite. He wants her fully aware this morning.

With one hand, he deftly undoes the clasps of her brassiere and tosses it aside. Her smallclothes follow quickly after. She hums, pleased, lazing onto her back as he kisses down her breastbone, palming one of her breasts and rolling his thumb over her nipple until it peaks. His mouth works at the other, teasing and swirling until she’s arching up into him and rubbing her thighs together.

“Is this my gift?” she sighs. “I like it.”

Astarion chuckles against the space below her breasts as he continues working his way down. “In part, I suppose. But not quite.”

He runs his tongue underneath her breast and then leaves her a moment to fetch something from the side table. She whines at his absence, but he doesn’t leave her waiting long. He rolls back over, slipping a ring snugly down onto the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She giggles. “Are you proposing to yourself? Fitting, honestly.”

“You’re cute when you’re lust drunk,” he says before he puts the weight of his body on top of hers, kissing her deep.

He hauls her leg up by the thigh, wrapping it around his waist so he has better access as he runs his hands down the length of her, gripping her arse tight before moving around to the front and teasing his clever touch between her legs. She’s already going wet, her arousal making for a smooth draw over her skin and she settles into it, a wide smile on her face, knowing she’s in a master’s hands.

Astarion grins. She has no idea.

He places his hand flat against her slit, cupping her and resting the ring against her in just the right place.

“ Deliciae ,” he whispers.

The ring sends a brief, rapid vibration through her core, just beside her clit, and Tav cries out in surprise, bucking her hips and gripping his biceps, her breath going erratic. She’s fully awake now, staring up into his face, wide-eyed.

“What in the hells,” she gasps.

Astarion gives her a light kiss. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he says. Then, again, “ Deliciae .”

“Oh,” she says, her thighs shaking on either side of him as another vibration pulses through her. “Oh, dearest . Again.”

He's happy to comply, kissing her between her gasps and mewls, repeating the command word in a sultry whisper while he works her with his fingers in the meantime. His own arousal aches where it’s pressed against her hip and he gently grinds it against her for relief, just enough to keep his own head as he watches her break to pieces beneath him.

Tav rolls her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her legs shake, incapable of holding back their shudders as a shivering, powerful peak comes over her under the little toy. It’s familiar but sweeter; her hips rise off the mattress and then slam down as she tips over the other side. Astarion feels her clenching and pulsing, strong and slick, and the entire ordeal is instantly worth it to bear witness to the unraveling. There is no pleasure, no greater high, than knowing he’s the one who brings her to this state. The one who has the privilege. The one she chose.

She blinks back to herself, a moan low in her throat as she tries to clear the spots in her vision. When she meets his eyes again, he’s panting himself, still rolling his hips to get some relief against her side. Her gaze clears as she breaks the surface of her pleasure and she growls, grabbing his face and bringing him down to her mouth, nipping his lower lip between her teeth until he whines from it.

“You liked my gift?” he whispers, breath quickened.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs. “Now let me give you yours.”

Tav’s hand snakes down their bodies to find his fingers and she takes them, slipping the ring off. He’s so dazed with lust that he lets her without thinking about it too much and gladly moves as she rolls them both until he’s the one on his back. Her mouth is so hot on his cooled skin as she places open mouthed kisses everywhere he likes – the space behind his ear, the place where shoulder meets neck, every rib on the way down. She spreads a hand in the center of his chest, over where his heart resides, and presses him into place as she licks down the line between his abdominal muscles.

Astarion’s cock twitches, throbbing against the weight of her body as she continues her path, and she uses her free hand to give him a rewarding squeeze and stroke, running the pad of her thumb over the split underneath the head. She gives his foreskin a little swirl, helping make sure it’s properly drawn down, and he thrusts up into her hand with a pleased murmur.

It’s taken time and significant gentle coaxing to get him to a place where he simply lets go and allows her to lavish him with attention. A lesson he’s forever learning, rewriting centuries of conditioning with care, with passion, with love. He closes his eyes and focuses on her touch, allowing himself the pleasures she’s happy to share with him.

With a slight jolt, he twitches when he feels her warm tongue follow the path of her fingers, rolling circles around the head of him and applying long licks down his length. Her fingers move to his sack, gently rolling his balls in her palm, warming them. She places a knuckle against the spot beneath them, kneading deep but gentle, finding the place that drives him wild.

“You are so good to me,” he sighs as she moves her mouth over his head again. “That’s so good.”

He senses her smile just before she swallows him down, taking his length halfway into her mouth and working him a few times before she pulls off and says, “ Deliciae .”

Astarion’s vision whites out as the knuckle pressing into his perineum sends a hard vibrating pulse through him at the same time she takes his cock in her mouth again. He gives a sharp cry.

“Bleeding hells,” he manages. “I… I…”

She pulls off of him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and says it again.

Pleasure upon pleasure crashes over him, lighting up his entire body as he writhes under her touch. She goes slow enough to make it delightfully tortuous, though it would be incredibly easy to push him over the edge in short order. She moves the enchanted ring, experimenting in different places – the base of his cock, the rim of his arse, the crease of his thighs – and each spot brings new sensations.

He’s an absolute mess by the time she draws back and crawls up his body, his hands weakly grasping at her hips as she sits up on her knees, gingerly reaching between her legs to hold his cock in place as she slides down onto it, both of them near sobbing at the sensation.

“I love you,” he manages with what little breath he can hold. “Gods, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you,” she breathes back as she rolls her hips hard against him over and again. “Love this. All of this.”

Tav rides him slowly, firmly, with intention. When they get to a point where they can’t help but pick up speed, grinding one another into oblivion, Tav lifts his shaking hand in hers and takes the ring from her finger so she can slip it back onto his, the movement reverent.

Astarion looks her in the face as he reaches down between them with his fingers spread over the base of his cock where they meet, resting the ring right alongside her oversensitive clit. 

“ Deliciae ,” they say together.

They shatter in the same moment, eyes rolling back, crying out to the morning light. The waves of delight roll like the tide outdoors, rising up the shore and receding back to the great unknown.

Tav collapses onto Astarion’s chest and his arms are so very heavy as he lifts them to wrap around her back. They breathe, and pulse, and live. Eventually, he begins tracing soothing patterns along her skin.

He clears his throat. “I take it that’s the inaugural positive review for Gale’s potential toy venture?” he says.

“Oh gods, that’s where…” Tav covers her face with her hands. “Oh gods, I have to go out there and see him.”

Astarion laughs and she laughs with him.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #smut mines #onlyfangs

[y-rhywbeth2]

Random assorted stuff about the Forgotten Realms setting: For fic and roleplaying needs, or whatever. Brief stuff about language, "I'm going to kill everyone in this party except Wyll, who actually greets me like he lives in this setting," religion, magic, time and the calendar and holidays

The proper name of the world is Abeir-Toril, which translates to "the cradle of life" in an unknown long extinct language. It's abbreviated to Toril in common use. Fourth Edition decided that the Realms to retcon Abeir-Toril into being two sister worlds, Abeir and Toril, locked in orbit but not always connected so that it could force the Dragonborn in. *grognard voice* Even though there were ways to do that without literally blowing up the setting...!

You say hello by saying "well met." It's the default phrase and it's used all the time, despite only Wyll using it, for some reason.

Common is a trade tongue, simplistic so that it can be easily learnt for it to be spoken widely and understood by pretty much everyone. It is not much use for expression or for discussing complicated topics. Most people cannot read common if you wrote it down.

The language spoken in Western Faerûn (including the Sword Coast) is Chondathan, which is something like a romance language in structure. It is not unsimilar to common, but is more complex.

The majority of Faerûnian languages (including common and Chondathan) are written in the Thorass script.

Waterdeep is part of the Sword Coast North - also just called the North, and both Chondathan and the Northern language Illuskan are spoken there. Gale might speak both. (Illuskan is basically a Germanic language.)

Toril's inhabitants are polytheistic. The people worship all the gods who are relevant to their life: You pray to Chauntea for a good harvest, to Tymora for luck, to Waukeen for financial success, to Umberlee for safe sea voyages, to gods like Shaundakul and Selûne for safe travel in general... Generally you pray to the good and neutral deities for protection and help, and the evil gods in order to pacify them so they won't capsize your ship or have their priests sacrifice you or something. Some religious individuals also favour and worship one god above the others, not all of whom are clerics. Most of them are still polytheists, even clerics, and it's unusual for somebody to devote themselves to a god at the exclusion of all others. Apparently gods keep an eye open for undedicated mortals whose behaviours and beliefs align with themselves and often try to sway those mortals into worshipping them through dreams and omens and such.

All magic comes from the Weave (Mystra is the middleman between a god and their priest in this regard) and all magic is the domain of the gods. A ranger or druid must worship a nature deity who they receive their spells from, as paladins and clerics must serve a deity. Arcane spellcasters are not required to worship, and Mystra would only be allowed to cut off a mage in response to literally Earth-levelling degrees of stupidity, but many worship her by choice for similar reasons.

Days are 24 hours long. The equivalent to a week is 10 days long, and referred to as a "tenday" or, less commonly, as a "ride." Most people do not own clocks or other means of telling the time, and nobody really tries to keep track of an hour, mostly getting by through keeping an eye on the sky/light levels, as well as the activity of the people around them, and using habit and intuition.

In human lands (that is to say, pretty much all of Faerûn) the Calendar of Harptos is used. Twelve months long, 30 days in a month. It does weird leap year stuff with an additional five festival days between months, with the celebration of Shieldmeet occurring once every four years. January = Hammer - Midwinter/Deadwinter Day Feburary = Alturiak March = Ches April = Tarsakh - Greengrass May = Mirtul June = Kythorn July = Flamerule - Midsummer -Shieldmeet (occurs once every four years) August = Eleasis September = Eleint -Highharvestide October = Marpenoth November = Uktar - Feast of the Moon December = Nightal

Midwinter: Traditionally a day for making or renewing alliances between the nobility, who celebrate it with parties. If you're a commoner and you live in the North there are no parties and you call it "Deadwinter Day" and it's a day to hope your food stores hold out and that you don't freeze this year.

Greengrass is a festival to welcome spring. Traditionally, the wealthy gift flowers to the commonfolk who wear them or offer them for the gods relevant to summer (Lathander, sun god of renewal, for example)

Midsummer is about music and feasting and also pretty much it's valentines day, with betrothals and new courtships and dancing. If the weather is bad on Midsummer then that's a bad omen.

Shieldmeet is the leap day on the calendar. Traditionally rulers are to open their council to the common folk and listen to their voices on this day. Competition and tournaments (including ones for spellcasters) are a common feature in the festivals.

Highharvestide is, as the name implies, the harvest festival as the crops are all pulled in for winter. It's also the day travellers who haven't already left wherever they're staying leave before winter sets in

The Feast of the Moon is a holiday for honouring the dead and your ancestors.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #long post #lore stuff #i'm going to kill the small text function if it doesn't stop glitching out #i thought about doing some basic history and geography and then i thought about how long that would take #and went nah i'd rather jump off the roof than do that atm

[wufflesvetinari]

ok here is a 1k-word preview of Astarion Holiday Son-in-Law Simulator (it will be choose-your-own-adventure once complete and posted to my ao3)

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You are ULDER RAVENGARD. 

You have safeguarded your city against dragon cultists, Bhaalist incursions, the many-headed hydra of organized crime, and—not a year past—the absurdly apocalyptic attack of the ELDER BRAIN. You withstood the fall of Elturel; survived the Absolute’s parasitic presence in your very soul.

Your maids are fucking giggling at you. 

They flit from room to room, hanging the holly garlands and blown glass baubles traditional of the upcoming MIDWINTER festivities. They paint red stripes on wooden Canes of Frost to symbolize the aging of the year. They pose an effigy of Hroth’s surprisingly jolly and generous servant Saint Claw on the upper landing, a nod to the coming month of Alturiak, known as the Claw of Winter. 

It’s the kind of exquisite holiday detailing expected of Ravengard Manor, home of current Grand Duke WYLL RAVENGARD. Soon to host Baldur’s Gate prestigious MIDWINTER’S EVE BALL. 

But you are ULDER RAVENGARD, and the maids whisper behind their hands when you pass.

Surely this is ASTARION’s doing.

Your son is completely besotted with his fiance, but you can’t figure out the appeal. And the feeling appears mutual: the lad’s taken an inexplicable disliking to you.

Certainly not due to any action of your own.

He communicates to you chiefly in cutting remarks or cheerful anecdotes about killing people. He makes no effort to hide his fangs when lounging about the formal events you host, and he said something deeply heinous about Lady Gemilia’s parrot mere moments before you would have clinched her financial support for the Fist’s new armory. 

He’s spoiled, and petty, and seems chiefly concerned with draining the Ravengard coffers. You are, frankly, at your wit’s fucking end.

You corner a butler about the giggling servants and he mumbles something about the Duke-Consort-To-Be’s generosity with the staff: with the contents of the Ravengard wine cellars, but also—more importantly—with idle gossip. 

With stories gleaned from the new Grand Duke about his father’s youthful indiscretions. Something about the Blushing Mermaid, a monk, and a redcap. 

This cannot stand.

But you are a mature adult—a politician!—who can control his wrathful urges. Surely Astarion can be brought to heel if approached with respect and an open mind. 

Or perhaps it would be wiser to approach Wyll with your concerns. Astarion would certainly accept correction from his fiance.

>DISCUSS YOUR CONCERNS WITH ASTARION LIKE A MATURE ADULT POLITICIAN

>DISCUSS YOUR CONCERNS WITH WYLL LIKE A MATURE ADULT POLITICIAN

***

>DISCUSS YOUR CONCERNS WITH ASTARION LIKE A MATURE ADULT POLITICIAN

You seek out your future son-in-law after evening falls. He’s lounging about in the darkened greenhouse, sharing a bottle of wine with SNIDE-WHITE-BRAID. 

Snide-White-Braid is one of Wyll’s little friends from that time he saved Baldur’s Gate and also the world. You do not remember her name, but she is frequently in your house drinking your wine. She is either the cleric or the wizard, and you are terrified of having a full conversation with her in case you guess wrong.

Tactically, you ignore her. 

“Ah, Astarion!” you say, as though you frequently visit your greenhouse at night and have only caught him here by chance. “I was hoping to have a word.”

“You were,” Astarion says lightly. He stretches out like a cat on the—you believe the contraption is called a lawn chair, and he had it shipped in from Waterdeep at full expense. He blinks at you languidly. “Well, go on, then.”

You glance at Snide-White-Braid, who raises a dark eyebrow at you. 

“Alone?” you try.

Astarion sighs, a perfect picture of put-upon luxury, and Snide-White-Braid hums in a distinctly judgemental way before leaving the greenhouse. She takes the wine bottle with her. It is, of course, one of the good years. You will not see it again.

Business-like, you sit on the lawn chair beside him. You pick a disarming opening gambit. “Astarion, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“The wrong foot?” Astarion says, pressing an offended hand to his chest. “Whatever do you mean, father dearest?”

You fight back a full-body shudder. “Don’t—please don’t call me that.”

Astarion shrugs and sips his wine. He continues to recline, leaving you looking awkward and stiff in comparison. 

“I mean that we are very different people,” you try valiantly. “And I can respect difference. Wyll clearly cares about you—”

“Of course he does!” Astarion flutters his eyelashes, and you grow distinctly uneasy. “And he cares so much about you, as well. Even after…well, you know. All that unpleasantness between the two of you.”

“Er,” you say eloquently, your unease only growing. “Yes.” 

“So of course, I have to play nice,” Astarion says, grinning over his glass. “You needn’t fear any aggression from me. Why, I’m just happy to call you family.”

You flounder. “That’s…good to hear? Perhaps, then, we could discuss some smaller matters of—”

“By the way,” Astarion says silkily, placing his glass on the greenhouse floor. “Ser Augustus won’t be coming to the MIDWINTER’S EVE BALL after all. His invitation got mixed up in the mail somehow—instead he received the rather scathing meeting minutes from the Planning Council’s discussion of his budget indiscretions.”

Astarion covers his mouth with his hand, the picture of scandalized. 

You breathe deeply. He’s trying to bait you, the gods know why. But for Wyll’s sake—for your own dignity—you can’t let him.

“The MIDWINTER’S EVE BALL is an important political event,” you tell him calmly. “For Wyll especially, as the new Grand Duke. Ser Augustus’s presence would have been a boon to him.”

“Or at least to the Flaming Fists’ new armory fund,” Astarion says, examining his nails. “Pity.” 

You grit your teeth. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“I’ve changed the main course to venison.”

“Venison? I—Astarion, I am organizing this event. On my son’s behalf.”

“And your son,” Astarion says, his eyes flashing, “prefers venison.”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Don’t give into his petty games. Don’t let him drag you down into some insane secret war. 

“Be that as it may, venison is a commoner’s dish. I can provide better for him.”

Astarion looks at you coolly. He reaches down to run a finger over the rim of his wine glass.

“Can you?” he says.

He’s not talking about the venison anymore. This is abundantly clear. You see the distaste in his eyes—the dismissal—and embarrassment washes through you.

It’s quickly replaced by rage. How dare he judge your mistakes, when anyone can see that Astarion is a mistake Wyll is in the midst of making? It’s a father’s duty to correct mistakes.

The INSANE SECRET WAR is declared without a word between you.

You lean forward in your chair, eyes alight. “It’s good that we’re getting along so well, for Wyll’s sake. I’d hate for him to sense any discord between us.”

“Quite,” Astarion agrees with a smile. “That sweet man has enough on his mind. You have my word he will never notice an inkling of a problem.” 

“Then we are agreed,” you say.

The TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT are set. Wyll will never learn of the SECRET WAR. The war that, on your honor, Astarion will lose.

Your honor levels are not inconsiderable.

#i'm having a ball #wyllstarion #bg3 #not ulder apologism or ulder bashing but a secret third thing (ulder suffering) #redeem ulder or don't i'm not the boss of you

[rosieofcorona]

A Summoning

ANGELS, I've returned to serve you domestic fluff with a side of holiday mischief. Professor! Gale and Dad! Gale are everything to me so I have wrapped them both up in this story with a little bow on top. Also on AO3 if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

Winter brings many things to Waterdeep– the sort of darkness that seeps into every corner of the city, the sort of snow that falls as heavy as a shroud. It brings a season’s worth of holidays, and with them, all their customs, all their visitors called home from every region of Faerun. It bring gifts and songs and lanterns, lit and hung in every window, their light shining off the snow like grounded stars. 

Best of all, winter brings them Arabella. 

In the girl’s first year at Blackstaff, Tav insisted Gale invite her home at Midwinter break. After all, she'd pointed out, Gale knew firsthand what it was like to be alone in the dormitories when the other students had gone home. It would be better, they’d decided, to have her stay with them in the tower, where they could spoil her and cook for her and help her with her schoolwork. 

And so it was. 

That first Midwinter came and went, and so did Fey Day and Fleetswake and Midsummer, Stoneshar and Last Sheaf and Feast of the Moon. Every holiday they invited her, and every holiday she came. 

By the time Midwinter arrived again, there was no discussion at all. Arabella simply appeared at their door on the last day of school, and was welcomed in just before dinner. 

For the most part, her visits brim over with happiness. Gale teaches her the rules of lanceboard and all his favorite recipes, and Tav reads to her and shows her how to pluck out a tune on a lyre. When Tara and Morena come for tea, they tell her stories about Gale’s childhood that turn him varying shades of red, depending on how often he has scolded Arabella for similar behaviors. There is no shortage of laughter or mischief or very late nights, which means also no shortage of noise. 

In the mornings, Gale rises ahead of the girls, gathers all his students’ papers and heads to the library to work in uninterrupted silence. If he is lucky, he can get through a good deal of marking before he starts to miss the tower, all its chaos and its company. 

No luck today. 

He’s only been there for an hour when a family passes by the nearest window, a flock of children shepherded by their parents. They all take turns at catching snowflakes, huge and fluffy, on their tongues, and fall apart in fits of laughter when they miss. 

They grin and wave at Gale when they see him, their cheeks flushed and bright with cold, and he waves back, and packs his things, and goes home early. 

*********

The tower seems, at first, exactly as he’d left it– silent, sleeping– But they must be up by now, he thinks. It’s late enough.  

He might expect them in the solar or the kitchen or the parlor, warming up before the fireplace or hovering over a lanceboard, but there’s no seems to be no sign of them, no sound of them at all. 

It is too quiet.  

Gale takes the stairs two at a time and makes a beeline down the corridor to their chambers, worry rising in his chest. He nearly rushes past his study when a faint exchange of words drifts through the door, followed by a commotion– a flutter of paper, a rush of footsteps, something dragged across the floor. 

He’s almost startled when he reaches for the handle and it opens. Tav is standing at the threshold, bright as ever, smiling wide. 

Gale catches sight of Arabella in the background closing a book, setting it back down on his desk with a little thump . Its cover– or what he glimpses– looks familiar somehow, like something he’d studied long ago and has since forgotten. The memory hasn’t fully formed when Tav interrupts it, her lips pressed to his in her usual greeting. She tastes like holiday sweets, like honey cake and mint, like tradition and family and home. 

“Hello, darling,” she says. “You’re home early.”

“Hello, you.”

The lingering taste of her is nearly enough to distract from his growing suspicion, but there’s something off about the room that he can’t quite place, something mischievous in the way she’s leaning against the doorframe, shifting her body, tilting her head to obscure his view. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

“Of course not,” she assures him, in a tone so light and easy it’s almost convincing. “Arabella and I have just been reviewing some of her lessons, isn’t that right?”

“Yep!” Arabella agrees, too enthusiastically for schoolwork. The girl comes to stand next to Tav in the doorway, her hands clasped politely before her. The picture of a well-behaved child. 

He is certain they are up to something now. 

“And which lessons might those be?”

They stumble over their answers, the words colliding, knocking heads. 

“Evocation,” answers Tav, while Arabella says, “Illusion.” 

A guilty look, quick as a hummingbird, flits between them and disappears. 

Gale raises an eyebrow. “Care to try again?”

“Well,” Arabella swallows, “I was saying you’ve been teaching our class about familiars, and how you got Tara, and–”

“Hang on,” Gale interrupts, a realization creeping over him. He points past them to the desk, to the text that she had dropped when Tav opened the door. “Is that my book?”

“I think you’ll find they’re all your books, darling,” Tav says quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll put them back–”

But it’s too late. 

With a flick of his hand, Gale passes through them like mist and reappears in the room beside his desk. He flips open the front cover– Advanced Summoning, stamped in gilded letters– and turns to a bookmarked page of detailed instruction, his own notes scribbled in the margins in a child’s hand. 

“You certainly will put this back,” he says firmly, facing Arabella. “This is magic beyond your years.” 

“But you were younger than me when you summoned Tara!” 

“‘Younger than I,’  and– nevermind – you're right, but that was very different.” 

Arabella wrinkles her nose indignantly. “How?”

“Well first of all, I didn’t need someone else’s private notes to do it. Now, if you’d like a book on familiars, I have a more appropriate one you can borrow–”He is moving in long strides toward the bookshelves on the opposite wall, crossing over the rug that’s been moved– It’s been moved? – to half-cover the summoning circle and– 

Wait .

“Have–” he sputters, lifting his shoe off the chalky runes drawn on the hardwood. “Have you made a summoning circle ? In my study?”

“Well, not just me,” the girl protests. “Tav helped!”

“I did,” she cringes lightly, when Gale whips around to look at her. “I couldn’t let her do it on her own.” 

“My love, she shouldn’t be doing it at all. This,” he says, turning back to Arabella, “Is complex and dangerous magic. One mistake and you might summon a pit fiend rather than a tressym.” “A very small pit fiend,” says Tav under her breath, but on seeing Gale’s scowl, adds, “Sorry.” 

“ Gods,” he groans, dropping his face into his hands. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Help us!” Arabella grins. “We were nearly done anyway.”

“We could use your expertise,” Tav murmurs, drawing close. “You’re the only one who’s done this before.” 

He feels her soft hands on his, prying them from his eyes so gently that he almost forgives them right then and there. 

“Pleeeease?” Arabella draws out the word like a sustained note. “I won’t ask for anything else all Midwinter.” 

“Where on earth are you going to keep it, Arabella? They’ll never allow it in the dormitories, believe me.” The girls look first at each other, then back to Gale. “No,” he says firmly. “Absolutely not. It cannot live here.” “But I’m here all the time anyway!” Arabella protests. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. Besides, you’re always telling me I need to be more responsible.” 

Gale sighs until it feels like all the air has left his body. 

“And summoning a familiar is going to make you more responsible?” The child shrugs. “It might.”

It is all he can do not to laugh at that, at all of it, at the great karmic joke playing out in front of him. This must be what his mother felt like, all those many years ago. He thinks of writing her his most sincere apology. 

After a great deal more sighing and shaking his head, Gale bends and tugs the rug away to reveal the extent of their work. He examines it deliberately, walking around and around, head bent, arms crossed, brow furrowed. 

“Your runes are wrong,” he says at last. “Here,” he points, “and here. Let me show you.”

Arabella listens closely as he guides her through the process, far more closely than she listens in his class. She draws new runes in a steady hand, pausing each time for affirmation, and when she finishes Gale’s eyes are full of pride. 

“The incantation now,” he nods, and stands and brushes the chalk from his knees. 

He moves out of the circle entirely as Arabella takes the center, her command of the words unwavering and true. But for a long and silent moment, nothing happens. She looks from the circle to the book to Gale and back, her disappointment only tempered by confusion. 

Then comes a sound like distant lightning, and a sizzling, crackling energy that makes the hair on all their arms stand up on end. A sphere of light appears above them, tears like parchment down the middle, and something tiny, something living tumbles straight into her arms. She nearly drops the book to catch it– a ball of fur with fledgling wings– and when she turns her eyes are bright with tears, a joy Gale still remembers.

#gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x fem! tav #professor dekarios #arabella bg3 #gale fluff #holiday fluff #domestic fluff #arabella being a regular in gale & tav's home is everything to me #my fic

[profoundlyfaded]

[HC] Wedding Details (Gale x Ayressa)

I’ve been obsessing about Gale and Ayressa’s wedding, in the midwinter of Waterdeep.

Deep crisp snow outside and they are in a beautiful venture, with wooden floors and high vaulted ceilings, pillars stretching up and bright candelabra hanging over them with flickering orange candles.

Gale is princely in his attire, an exquisitely embroidered waist coat of deep blue under a long knee length jacket of the same shade and trousers to match. Open collar though, no tie, a hint of his chest hair that he knows Ayressa will spend the day thinking about. He’s a bit anxious, simply because this level of formality is not one he often wears and he wants everything perfect for his new wife. Morena has to gentle scold him from time to time - ‘stop picking at it or the thread will actually pull, Gale’.

The guests filter in, around twenty members of the Dekarios clan have arrived each with their families making nearly sixty of the guests on their own - aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins that it sometimes seemed that Morena picked out of thin air were it not for the fact she was one of five children. Gale is unusual in the fact that Morena only had a single child. The Aedihle family is much smaller, elven families tend to be, with her parents and sister in attendance. But she has a wider circle of friends; people she’s helped who stayed in touch, fellow artists, associates who have helped her on many a case.

Then there are their companions, a devastating notable absence is Karlach, who passed away instead of returning to the Hells. Lae’zel is also absent, on her quest in the Astral Plane to fight Vaalkith.

They chose dusk so Astarion could attend, and he is holding court in his disarmingly charming manner. Gale has warned him about not getting his fangs into any of the guests. Shadowheart and Wyll converse quietly, the newest Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate drawing excited and curious glances. Shadowheart looks happy and settled, with her parents alive she is embracing her own family life. Jaheira, her oldest children , Minsc and Boo sit with them, alongside Halsin and Minthara, who have found some way to tolerate each other. Others are there too; Zevlor, Alfira, Rolan and his siblings, Aylin and Isobel, Barcus… so many people that were helped during the Netherbrain crisis.

The music cues and the huge double doors open to reveal Ayressa. Her gown in dove grey velvet, scooped neckline adorned with blue embroidery to match Gale’s suit. The sleeves bellow out from her elbows to match the length of the dress. A girdle highlights her waist with a matching necklace at her throat. A diadem sits across her brow but her silvery white and pink hair falls in soft waves.

She walks alone down the aisle. Her father offered to give her away but she didn’t like the connotation, and walks willingly toward her new life. Her family were a little concerned when she announced her intention - marrying a human is a painful path for many an elf - but accept her decision in seeing how happy she is. (As an aside, they have no idea he is the Chosen of Mystra and will be capable of extending his lifespan).

The ceremony lasts less than half an hour, vows of love, devotion and eternity are made and the hall becomes the heart of festivities. They don’t do a sit down meal, opting for a focus on music and dancing, mingling and conversation - that said, there is an abundance of food, thanks in part to the magical prowess of a number of the guests. Dance cards are quickly filled, Wyll in particular spends a large amount of time on the dance floor, as a flurry of young women flock to the most eligible bachelor of the night.

It’s past midnight when the reception comes to a closed. Those with younger families having left sooner. Soon it is just those they are closest with, the Bride and Groom dance in besotted adoration until only they occupy the room. With a cheeky spell of displacement, Gale whisks them back to the tower to finish out the night in tangled ecstasy.

[Meta Notes] Devastating as Karlach’s death is, I tend to keep it the case in this world. Sometimes you simply can’t save everyone and while I know I could alter it, I want to retain the experience I had as a player and work with that pain as something that is dealt with by the characters.

As for Minthara, I did the whole ‘non-lethal combat’ for her as it had become a proper viable option the first time I did an Ayressa playthrough. I do like that you can do this in-game now without some crazy roundabout method that previously seemed to involve a sheep. So, the headcanon is they think she’s dead, so finding her alive at Moonrise is a surprise for the gang but Ayressa refuses to leave her to be tortured like that. Despite their differences, being polar opposites, Ayressa has a life long ally in Minthara even if they aren’t actually friends.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #ayressa aedihle #tav #astarion ancunin #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #halsin #minthara baenre #jaheira #minsc and boo #weddings #just got to get it out my system

[abracadav-r]

since this site is not serious, more on felyn and vhaeraun

when she was younger, during the midwinter night ritual

felyn would do the ritual to the letter, but 24 hours is a long time. so, sometimes she'd just... chat with him in-between the "important bits". talk about things done and seen during the year, that she thought he would enjoy. not always evil or useful things like "we've started taking over luskan" but like, whatever came to mind. talking about dark flowers. about the half-drow child she saw playing in the streets of waterdeep with the other kids, accepted by those kids. just whatever came to mind that she naively assumed he wouldn't have taken note of. he's a very busy god, afterall.

but during his torpor, she hardened up quite a lot. it was a difficult period to survive, and some personalities tried to turn things to their personal benefit (rather than vhaeraun's) during his silence. the person she was closest to betrayed that trust and nearly allowed ghaunadaur to take her. she's become distrustful enough that when he finally returns, she remembers how his sister masqueraded as him for several years, until her moonfire betrayed her; she lied to them and tried to use them for her own ends, as far as felyn was concerned. so she didn't trust him for a long while.

and during that time, also after, she stopped chatting with him. the ritual became more serious. done correctly. now she talks at length about bregan's plans in luskan or other schemes, the suffering she inflicted on lolthites during the last prison break/riot. it's good! she's become the "perfect" follower while he was gone, but...

#thinking about a god depicted red (angry) so often that seeing other colors is so rare its almost considered a myth #and how he might feel about his faithful following a similar path where all they feel more and more is anger. only anger. #felyn

[lawful-evil-novelist]

So @thespacelizard said they’d love to get a solid list of the Despana kids in order so I figured I’d give you a rundown of them.

The Despana kids are Malavon Despana’s children by various mothers, there are actually eleven in total by 1372 DR, but during the events of A Lesson Well Learned and A Dangerous Conjuration (1368 DR), Viconia’s youngest sibling, Vizeran, hadn’t been born yet.

All eleven of the siblings share a few common traits:

They all inherited their father’s white-blond hair, though it’s not super distinctive they are all blond-haired.

They all have either blue or red eyes.  Malavon has blue eyes himself.

Malavon named all of them after drow he hated, with a general preference for wizards and priestesses.  If he didn’t want to use or didn’t know the target’s name he usually just used one of their family members.

Malavon crafted special hair ornaments for each of them.  The ornaments are wrought from white gold in the shape of an unsleeping eye–Malavon’s personal symbol–and the eye is inset with a stone that matches his child’s eye color.  The ornaments are enchanted to help the wearer focus when casting, and fortifies the caster’s hold over the spell.  I actually do have stats on these items they’re insanely powerful with the caveat that Malavon crafted them to only attune to the child he made it for.

All eleven were born on a full moon or new moon, often one of some significance.

Malavon experimented on his children, so all eleven have latent magic he has trained them to master.  The elder eight have all been formally trained and trained in their latent magic, meaning they’re all multiclassed.  Yasraena, his ninth, has only been trained in her latent magic.  The other two aren’t old enough to be trained.

So, in order, here are the Despana children as of 21 Eleint, 1372 DR (which, if my math is right, is roughly the date Dissolution begins):

Nym Despana

Namesake: Nym of the Frozenfar, a drow merchant Malavon worked with regularly.

Birthdate: 1 Flamerule, 1218 DR

Age: 154

Height: 5’3”

Class: Cleric (Trickery Domain)/Bard (College of Whispers)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Dallnothax

Sabanna “Anna” Despana

Namesake: Tsabanor Oblodra, Patron of House Oblodra and the only Oblodra Malabon thought he could get away with naming a child after.

Birthdate: 2 Hammer, 1236 DR

Age: 136

Height: 5’1”

Class: Cleric (Light Domain)/Sorcerer (Divine Soul)

Deity: Eilistraee

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Waterdeep

Rai’gy “Rai” Despana

Namesake: Rai’gy Bondalek, who Malavon hates because honestly he hates most other mages that aren’t related to him and also Priest of Lolth.

Birthdate: 6 Marpenoth, 1281 DR

Age: 90

Height: 5’4”

Class: Sorcerer (Lunar)/Wizard (Conjuration)

Deity: Eilistraee/Vhaeraun (both, literally he worships both and pisses off both churches in kind)

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Ust Natha

Bael’baste “Baela” Despana

Namesake: Baeloth Barrityl, AKA Baeloth the Entertainer, a sorcerer Malavon has a particular beef with and Baeloth doesn’t actually know what that beef is, all he knows is that Baela is his daughter now too.

Birthdate: Midwinter, 1297 DR

Age: 75

Height: 5’0”

Class: Sorcerer (Wild)/Wizard (Evocation)

Deity: Malyk

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Baldur’s Gate

Zarafae “Zara” Despana

Namesake: Zaknafein Do’Urden, Malavon has beef with the Do’Urdens I haven’t actually figured out what it is.  He just has beef.

Birthdate: 10 Eleint, 1312 DR

Age: 60

Height: 5’5”

Class: Rogue (Assassin)/Wizard (Bladesinger/Necromancy)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Ust Natha

Viconia “Nia” Despana

Namesake: Viconia DeVir, probably actually an offshoot of Malavon’s beef with Vizeran DeVir and has nothing to do with Viconia herself.

Birthdate: 17 Uktar, 1318 DR

Age: 53

Height: 5’1”

Class: Sorcerer (Draconic-Deep)/Wizard (Illusion)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Menzoberranzan

Nalfein “Nal” Despana

Namesake: Nalfein Do’Urden, just more Do’Urden Beef.

Birthdate: 17 Nightal, 1345 DR

Age: 26

Height: 4’11”

Class: Sorcerer (Wild)/Wizard (Enchantment)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Menzoberranzan

Maya Despana

Namesake: Maya Do’Urden, Do’Urden Beef part 3

Birthdate: 17 Nightal, 1345 DR

Age: 26

Height: 4’10”

Class: Rogue (Assassin)/Sorcerer (Shadow)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Minauthkeep

Yasraena Despana

Namesake: One of Lichdrow Dyrr’s daughters because Malavon’s too chickenshit to call Dyrr out directly.

Birthdate: 27 Ches, 1357 DR

Age: 15

Height: 5’0”

Class: Sorcerer (Aberrant Mind)

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

Phaera Despana

Namesake: Yes, this is Pharaun, one of Malavon’s daughters is named after Pharaun. Did you think anyone was safe?

Birthdate: 22 Marpenoth, 1361 DR

Age: 10

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

Vizeran Despana

Namesake: Vizeran DeVir, Malavon really hates this guy, it’s surprising it took him this long to express it.

Birthdate: Midsummer, 1370 DR

Age: 2

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

If there’s interest I might make an updated list that notates their status as of 1492 DR but this is what it looks like as of the War of the Spider Queen.  Feel free to ask questions as well.

#original character #drow original character #oc: viconia despana #long post #read more

[weaveandwood]

Midwinter in Waterdeep: Part Three

Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read Part One | Read Part Two | Read on AO3

Summary:

Over a year after their relationship ends, fate brings the couple back together for one too-short night.

The sun set and the moon rose in the night sky without a sign of Gale. She was once again confronted with her demons, whispering in her ear about his habit of getting so lost in his own work and focused on his own ambitions that he left her alone, adrift, and purposeless in the aftermath of their adventure and again now. Her only solution then had been to run, leaving him and the biggest piece of her heart behind. Those demons tugged at her another time. She wasn’t strong enough to resist them. I can’t do this. 

AN: The final installment is here! Thank everyone so much for all your support on this mini series. I hope you love it as much as I do, and I'm sorry for ripping out your hearts along the way. CN: Suggestive language, mild descriptions of panic

The first Midwinter was spent in reverence of each other. They watched the annual fireworks from his balcony and stayed up until the dawn began its ascent over the horizon. Hours were spent relearning each other’s bodies and minds after being strangers for so long. She spoke of her jobs, the contracts she accepted, the locations she visited as he kissed her neck in that one spot that was her undoing and his hands worked his way up her thighs. He spoke of his apprentices, new spells he was crafting, his colleagues turned friends while she kissed the faint remnants of the orb tattoo on his chest, her hand trailing down the line of his stomach. He worshiped her throughout the night and she accepted his offerings gladly.

While the sun rose, she lay in his arms, head on his bare chest as they made plans to spend next Midwinter together. 

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid.

He cast an illusion to make it snow in what used to be the bedroom they shared, just to see the smile on her face that would no doubt satisfy him for another year. She kept the longing she had to stay with him locked away deep inside, remembering the tormented look on his face the previous night when he ran to her. She couldn’t be the cause of that again, she didn’t trust herself with his heart.

They both wept after they parted. 

**

The second Midwinter, they met in the market - the first time Gale had been in almost two years. They got sweet rolls and held hands as they walked to the inn he reserved for them this holiday. They barely got into the room before their bodies collided and their clothes ended up in a wrinkled pile on the floor, not wanting an inch of space to come between them on their one, too-short night together where she was his and he was hers, though both confessed there was no one else during their time apart. 

She asked for another illusion as he traced his fingers up and down her bare back, the muscles and small scars from so many adventures illuminated by the moonlight. He made the room fill with small glowing rabbits, her favorite animal. 

“You remembered.” “How could I ever forget anything about you?”

He gifted her a sending stone that was modified to only relay a signal when the pair were within a certain distance from each other, so he would know she was near, that she was safe at least one day a year. He kept its partner with him at all times - if not in his pocket, then within arm’s reach, counting down the days until he could feel the trace hum of magic that said she was close, that she was coming back to him. She always kept the stone in her pack or under her pillow as she slept in the wilds and reminisced about stolen moments in tents with him. 

***

The third Midwinter, the sending stone in his pocket flickered to life a day earlier than expected, before the sunrise. He met her at the gates of the city full of concern, but she relieved his fears by explaining she had extra time this year and could stay this additional day, if he wanted. Of course he wanted! He was elated as they walked back to the tower, but had to finish up the term today. He kissed her deeply and promised to be back by sunset, a familiar line she had heard plenty before.

Hours ticked by in quiet solitude. The walls of the tower closed in on her and the sounds of the city aggravated instead of soothed. The sun set and the moon rose in the night sky without a sign of Gale. She was once again confronted with her demons, whispering in her ear about his habit of getting so lost in his own work and focused on his own ambitions that he left her alone, adrift, and purposeless in the aftermath of their adventure and again now. Her only solution then had been to run, leaving him and the biggest piece of her heart behind. Those demons tugged at her another time. She wasn’t strong enough to resist them.

I can’t do this. 

The day had completely gotten away from him - he didn’t realize how late it had become as he rushed home after a long day of examinations and meetings with fellow professors. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of spending two nights with the love of his life, lost in memory and passion. 

He called out to her as he walked in, receiving no response. The tower was empty. His breathing quickened as he collapsed against the wall in the entry, sinking to the floor. A cold panic took over as he found himself alone, reliving that first day all those years ago. He ran his shaking hands through his hair, looking for a note, a sign, anything…and found no trace of her. 

She’s not here.

She didn’t come back that night. The next morning, he ignored the faint buzzing from the stone as he walked to Blackstaff to finish some paperwork before properly starting his holiday as he did every year, though this year it was more of a distraction than anything. He came home late to find a package on his doorstep - a small silver moon earring to wear in the empty piercing where Mystra’s symbol used to reside with a note that read “Be a moon unto yourself.” He could feel her watching but went inside anyway. He tucked the parcel in the same drawer with her ring and extinguished all the lights in his tower, wearily retreating to his study. 

She sat across the street from the tower huddled in her coat, crying through the fireworks until the early morning. Something broke inside her that night, deeper than what already was fractured. 

I’m sorry. 

****

The fourth Midwinter, he received a delivery at his office in Blackstaff Academy. Inside was a sending stone, almost exactly like the one he had gotten her two years ago. His heart beat faster - was she returning it? Was this goodbye? Had the last Midwinter ruined them? They hadn’t spoken but at times he felt his original stone humming, knowing she was near Waterdeep on a few occasions over the last year, resisting the urge to go to the gates each time for a glimpse of her. 

He felt the familiar crackle of magic as he inspected the parcel. No, this one is a different stone, he thought with relief, hearing her voice when he touched it for the first time.

I love you. I’m here. Meet me outside of the city if you can forgive me.

His eyes filled with tears, replying with the only message he could ever respond to her with.

I love you.

She smiled to herself as she heard his warm voice in her head. I love you. It was the first time they had said it to each other in so long - even before she had left him. A flicker of hope surged within her. She met him at the gates as the sun set, grabbing his robes and pulling him to her to kiss him deeply before he even had a chance to say hello. There was so much to say, so much to confess, and so little time. She took his hand and led him away from the city, deep into the woods off the main road where she had set up a tent for them, a campfire waiting. He moved to kiss her, to begin their usual dance of removing clothes and grasping at each other to stave off the chill in the air and the loneliness in their hearts. He longed to touch her, to feel himself inside her again. 

She stopped him. 

He listened as she told him about her next adventure on the other side of the continent. How she purchased the new sending stones because she wanted to hear his voice in her head every day when she would be so far from him. How after last Midwinter, she wanted to move forward and not spend every moment together thinking about the hurts of the past. How she realized the irony of her saying that while sitting in a campsite that was reminiscent of the one they shared all those years ago. How she was ready, finally, to offer more and hoped he would accept. 

“I love you, Gale.”  She’s real. “I love you, too.” She’s here.

The Midwinter fireworks from Waterdeep looked especially beautiful that night as they made love underneath them. 

*****

The fifth Midwinter, she met him at the gates of the city, his message that morning running through her head. Meet me at the gates at our usual time. I have a surprise for you. I love you. 

Every day they sent each other a message through the stones. Every first message ended with “I love you.” Every reply started with “I love you.”

He was practically buzzing when he saw her, drawing her tightly into his embrace, just as he did that night five years ago when she came back into his life by a chance of fate - and yes, after that night he most certainly was a bigger believer in fate. She was safe, she was here, and she loved him. He led her to the woods, the same spot she set up their campsite the previous year. In its place was a small cabin surrounded by wildness, enchanted to be invisible to everyone but the two of them. 

He needed her like air, but he refused to suffocate her with that need - not with traditional roles or expectations, not with her always having to adjust to fit into his life, his routine, his schedule, never the other way around. He wanted to fit into her life. She was the moon, she was the stars, she was the sky. She was precious to him, more important to him than even the Weave. He didn’t need anything but her - not his tower, not his accolades…just her. He loved her, and saw her, and understood what she was capable of offering. This cabin, he hoped, would be proof of that, and would be their home when she was between contracts, between adventures. 

She cried as he said all of this to her with tears streaming down his own smiling face. He held out the silver ring he had purchased for her all those years ago. She couldn’t believe he had kept it safe, looked after it as if he knew she would be back. They were different people then. They were different people now. After all this time, he remained devoted to her, steadfast, even as she pushed and pulled, clawing at the boundaries of his love. She believed him - for the first time, she felt understood. She was understood. He knew her, he was safe, he was here, and he loved her. She knew there could never be anyone else for either of them. He was her home. This was her home.

They kissed as he slipped the ring onto her finger. 

******

The sixth Midwinter, Gale found himself looking out the window of their cabin watching the snow while he prepared their dinner for the evening, replaying their messages from that morning in his head. 

I will be home at sunset. Will be with you for a month. I love you.

I love you. Please hurry back to me, I cannot bear to be apart from you much longer.

He laughed softly to himself. Home. If you had asked him five years ago, while he was bereft and reeling, what he thought home was he would have told you a study full of books, a desk littered with parchment, and a full wine cellar. Now? Home was the smile she gave him when he cast illusions. Home was the way she laid her head on his lap when he read to her, no matter the subject. Home was the way she brought him tea and kissed the top of his head as he stayed up late, working on new spells and theories by candlelight. Home was the sound of her voice calling his name as his mouth was between her thighs. Home was a tiny cabin hidden deep in the woods. 

He twirled the silver ring on his own finger, the twin to hers. He had felt the hum of the original sending stone only a few months after their last Midwinter, during Greengrass. He rushed to the cabin after classes were completed for the day, wondering why she hadn’t told him anything through their messaging stones, wondering if the original stones were malfunctioning. He had no sooner opened the door before she pulled him in and kissed him deeply. He led her to the bedroom, both of them shedding layers of clothing along the way as they reunited. Later that evening, she lazily ran her fingers through his hair as the dancing lights he cast hovered over them, lighting the room in a beautiful pale blue glow. 

“Marry me, Gale.”

They were married that week in a small ceremony, only Tara and Morena in attendance, though once word got out, many congratulations poured in from all over the Sword Coast. She had left later that week, and now she was finally coming home. He glanced at the bags he had brought from the tower, full of work and tomes, and contemplated putting them away before he felt his favorite hum of magic in all the world. 

She stood in front of their cabin, looking in through the window at him. Her eyes watered, whether from joy or the wind she couldn’t say, but she’d blame the wind anyway. Four small glowing rabbits hopped around at her feet and led her to the door. 

“Welcome home, my love.”

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fanfiction #gale fic #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #my writing #midwinter in waterdeep #baldur’s gate 3 #I don't know how to express how happy i am with this and i hope everyone else is too

[yentaly]

You know, I heard that some people have been comparing Lae’zel to the grinch. Honestly, I can kind of see it. On a related note, this gives me a great idea for a crack fanfic, “How the Gith Stole Midwinter”. In case you don’t know, Midwinter is a holiday in the forgotten realms that takes place in the middle of winter. It’s the closest holiday to Christmas I could find.

Its not really similiar to christmas at all from what I have read about it besides the general timeframe where the holiday takes place. A more similiar holiday would probaly be the Waterdavian holiday of Caravance (part of the greater Waukeentide holiday), it is more similiar to easter (atleast how easter has been celebrated for me in germany, where among eggs, gifts where also hidden around). (Screencap of from Volos Waterdeep enchirdion from Waterdeep: Dragonheists Appendix for refrence)

When it comes to a grinch comparison, I don't know shit about the grinch but going of online summaries, I don't really think it fits at all (beyond visuals I guess?). Githyanki are mostly to brutal for that role I feel like. If you want to do crazy shit then tho, its forgotten realms dnd so do whatever the fuck you want theres been weirder shit in (former and sometimes current) official cannon.

#dnd #forgotten realms #ttrpg #waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate #dungeons and dragons #d&d #laezel

[alswrites]

Lady Hera and her assistant Roland attend a Midwinter Celebration at the Cassalanter Villa to watch a performance from the singer Aria. During the celebration, Aria is attacked and Hera takes it upon herself to solve the case. What begins as an attempted murder turns into an incident involving demons and a family secret.

Note: The story's plot and some characters are based on the D&D adventure "Winter's Splendor" and this story includes minor spoilers for Waterdeep: Dragon Heist.

#fanfiction #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg #d&d

[littlejuicebox]

LittleJuicebox Masterlist

Click here for my AO3 account. (Converting is a WiP).

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please DM me and I can send you the google doc link. I have decided to keep tag lists for each individual series so you only get tagged in the ones you want.

My personal favorites are denoted by a +.

GN reader is denoted by a * otherwise assume Fem reader/OC.

Titles colored red are smut or other mature themes, 18+ only.

AstarionxWren Series:

This is a canon-adjacent passion project which focuses on Astarion and Wren, a ranger half-elf with her own backstory. She is based off my first Tav. Do you like angsty slow burns where two broken people find one another and learn to love again? Then this one is for you.

Chapter 1 / Chasing birds to get high (PG) + Chapter 2 / Between comfort and chaos (PG) Chapter 3 / Sunshine and midnight rain (PG13) + Chapter 4 / Protect the flames (M/Gore) Chapter 5 / Blue and silver bonded (PG13) Chapter 6 / Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat (PG13) Chapter 7 / Give peace a chance (M/Smut) + Chapter 8 / Dancing in a burning room (M/Gore) Chapter 9 / Lavender haze (PG-PG13?) Chapter 10 / I want to hold your hand (PG13)

Midnight Chimes Series:

Your parents own a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was somewhat of a regular when you worked at the bar in your younger years. You don’t exactly trust him. Now you’re an apothecary owner based in Waterdeep, and when the two of you crash on the beach, you aren’t exactly thrilled to see him there, too. But things aren’t always what they seem.

1 / The Prologue +

2 / Three years

3 / Luck +

4/ Ringleader

Midwinter Carol Series:

Eirianwen and Astarion were in love before the Ascension ritual changed his behavior toward her. She refused to become a spawn, and they went their separate ways. The story starts when they run into one another fifteen years later; Eirianwen returned to the city to deliver some news to the pale elf. Meanwhile, the Ascendant had a night time visitor that convinced him to change his ways, and he believes his ex-lover might be the key. Will he be able to change after fifteen years of living life as a debauched degenerate?

1 / The Prologue +

2 / The Barrier

3 / The Carriage

4 / The Auction +

5/ The Repeat

6/ The Affliction

7/ The Interrogation

8/ The Scheme

9/ The Snake

AstarionxReader One Shots and Mini-Stories:

Mini-Stories are grouped together in order and denoted by a “Part X” in sequential order after the title. These are in general "timeline" order and follow my (admittedly self-indulgent) headcanon for Spawn Astarion x Tav but can definitely be read as OneShots. All stories are AstarionxReader, some allusions to reader having spellcaster ability but otherwise no real description apart from being female in about 3/4 of the fics.

Act 1-2:

The little things.

Before someone steals your queen

Act 3:

Drunken nights*+

The nail salon

You'll stay still, won't you, little love? +

Post-BG3:

Mermaid whiskey+

Baking Cookies*

Astarion talks in his sleep Part 1*+

My Sun, My Moon Part 2+

Glowing in the Underdark+

Reflections on one year of marriage

Highharvestide Part 1

Highharvestide Part 2

Handmade+

Dadstarion:

The wish spell worked.+

Daddy?

Little bump.

Labor and joy

Skin to skin.

Milk.+

Little lockpick.

Beach babies.+

A growing brood.

Puppy love.

Stuck.

Pre-BG3 / Random / Ascended Astarion OneShots

Midnight chimes / The Original One Shot

Pre-BG3. You’ve known Astarion for years… or at least, you’ve known of him. You think he’s a rake, but one night he changes your mind. The series "Midnight Chimes" started based off this "prologue."

A Midwinter Carol / The Original One Shot

“A Christmas Carol” but Ascended Astarion is Scrooge. He sees you after your break up 15 years ago, and then has an unexpected nighttime visitor showing him past, present, and future. Will he be convinced to change his ways? The series "Midwinter Carol" started based off this "prologue."

Naughty or Nice?

You’re Ascended Astarion’s little toy in the middle of a party. TLDR; he’s tease and a BDSM dom.

Dancing on my own

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x original female character #slow burn #astarion x reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 writing #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #littlejuiceboxfics

[weaveandwood]

Midwinter in Waterdeep: Part One

Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read Part Two | Read Part Three | Read on AO3

Summary:

After the Netherbrain defeat, she thought her life with Gale was all wrapped up in a neat package with a beautiful bow. Life in the tower with its schedules, routine, and walls ended up not being for her. So she left.

Over a year later, she finds herself on a job in the city again near the Midwinter Festival, searching faces in the crowd.

She found herself searching faces she passed on the street. None of them were him, of course, but did she want them to be? Had his schedule changed in these many months? She purchased a sweet roll at a food cart, her favorite one he had taken her to almost every tenday. Some things don’t change. She thought once that she could, that she could adapt to living in the city for him, for love, thinking adaptability was her strong point. She was mistaken.

AN: A quick one shot inspired by a song. I don't know if this is a sad AU standalone or if it will work its way into my main fic. I've had this idea rattling in my head for about a week. Nothing but angst and some pining. EDIT: This is now the first part in a three part story

She didn't know why she took a job in Waterdeep of all places. It was the one city she wanted to forget about in the entirety of the Sword Coast. Her memories of the place ran the gamut, from the highest, happiest bliss to the lowest, most soul-wrenching sadness. 

“Will you join me in Waterdeep as the newest member of the Dekarios clan?” He asked in the Elfsong Tavern, on one knee, more nervous than he needed to be. 

“This is my tower, welcome to your new home, future Mrs. Dekarios,” he said with a smile, crossing the threshold.  

“Is everything okay? You feel distant ever since Withers’s party, my love.” He had a sad look on his face, knowing the inevitable was coming. 

“Let’s cancel the wedding.” He entered his study, barely acknowledging her.  

She had left not long after that while he was teaching at Blackstaff Academy, a note on the entryway table for when he returned. The silver ring he had purchased for her upon their arrival in the city acting as a paperweight. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. 

That was over a year ago. Now, she found herself back in the city after signing a contract for what turned out to be a relatively easy job for some quick gold. Desperate times, desperate measures. Turns out being the “Hero of Baldur’s Gate” didn’t go far outside of Baldur’s Gate. Her contract paid for one more night of lodging, so she went on a stroll from her inn down the main street toward the docks. 

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She found herself searching faces she passed on the street. None of them were him, of course, but did she want them to be? Had his schedule changed in these many months? She purchased a sweet roll at a food cart, her favorite one he had taken her to almost every tenday. Some things don’t change. She thought once that she could, that she could learn to love living in the city for him, for love, thinking adaptability was her strong point. She was mistaken.

She pulled her thin wool coat tighter around her as she kept walking toward the waterfront. Waterdeep was cold this close to Midwinter. Snow was starting to flurry, people were hurrying around with packages. She turned the corner onto a street lined with large houses, his tower near the very end. 

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She looked in windows as she walked by, illuminated with the golden light of candles as families and friends got together for celebrations. If she had never left, would she be at one of these parties, laughing as Gale’s arm draped over her shoulders? Would he be regaling everyone with tales of their grand adventure, or of something an apprentice had done at Blackstaff Academy? Would he finish the story by kissing her hand or cheek, as he loved to do in public? 

Had he found someone else? Moved on? A new future Mrs. Dekarios in the tower, one who is best friends with Tara and Morena, slotting into their life with ease and grace, much better than she ever had a hope to? Is he better off not knowing her anymore? 

She didn’t let her thoughts wander to him often, if at all. Tears threatened to form in her eyes - from the memories or the wind she could not say for sure, but she’d blame the wind anyway. The sun was starting to go down, and her inn was in the center of the city. She could handle herself when it came to physical threats, but the cold was getting more and more biting without the sun to lessen its sting. Just a couple more, then I’ll turn around, she thought. The houses down here were so pretty with their decorations. She smiled to herself halfheartedly. This could have been her life. 

She could hear the celebrations from the house two doors down. That would be the one she turned around at, she decided, wanting to attend their celebration from the outside, if only for a moment. She looked in the window from across the street. The front room was indeed full of people, each with drink in hand, laughing and cheering for someone. She laughed to herself as she saw the illusion of fireworks inside the room, setting the room alight with sparkling magic fit for a midwinter celebration. She missed magic. She saw the crowd part, presumably for the subject of the cheers. 

Her eyes widened. Her breathing quickened.

His hair was longer, a little more grey at the temples. He still tied it up halfway. He still had his beard. The creases by his eyes were a little deeper. 

He was looking right at her, frozen, his brown eyes just as wide as hers. 

She turned quickly to make a hasty escape. She knew it was tempting the gods to come down this street, but hadn’t that been the point? Hadn’t she become addicted to the if only during her time in the city?

“Stop!” she heard his voice behind her. She got three houses down before she felt a hand grab hers, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait. Please,” he said, panting.  

Dangerous. Tempting. Stupid. 

She turned around.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #gale fic #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #my writing #baldur’s gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #I’m actually so proud of this I think it’s my best writing to date #midwinter in waterdeep