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nrvcntr · 2 months

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My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #gale brainrot

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sorcerous-caress · 3 months

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Early morning cuddling

[Fluff, wholesome, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Lae'zel, Karlach, Minthara]

Part Two

Wyll

The feeling of soft warm breath against your chest is soothing, Wyll's arms are wrapped around your waist with his curled back horns below your neck, safely out of reach.

A quiet squeaking sounds just outside your window, wandering and tapping their beaks gently against the glass, the adoring feathery fans coming to say hello to the prince charming, sleeping in your arms. After all, Wyll has been making a habit of feeding the two mourning doves who made a nest just outside your shared bedroom. It's a good omen, he claims.

But he's sleeping so peacefully in your embrace, it almost feels like a crime to wake him up. Despite how adorable his morning grumpiness can be, sometimes blue blood just never washes off no matter how much Wyll claims he is a humble man of the blade.

The pure cotton sheets and featherly pillows below you say otherwise, but who are you to argue with Wyll-can't sleep unless it's on a 2000 thread count sheets-Ravengard

Calling his name, you cup his face in your hand as he leans into it. Nuzzling into the warmth of your balm as you tell him it's time to wake up. His lips meet the soft skin on inside of your hand and gently give it a small kiss. Mismatched eyes fluttering open with difficulty as he battles through the sleepiness, finally meeting your gaze.

You let him cuddle up to you, the lazy morning weather is really mellowing out your mind and making all the responsibilities awaiting you pale in comparison to staying here on this soft bed, wrapped in your beloved's arms.

Wyll seems to share a similar idea, the hero of frontier happily indulging in the sin of sloth so openly, if only you had a necklace of pearls to clutch right now. Alas, you let this handsome devil lure you back into taking a nap together, ignore the calling of the sun outside your curtains, for the world can await.

♡

Lae'zel

She's awake much before you, only when the sound of running water stirs you awake do you realise the empty spot on the bed besides you.

Lae'zel took her morning training very seriously, slipping away before the sun was up to keep both her body and mind in shape. When the fading stars in the sky are her only companions through her long jogs, a reminder of a home she once knew.

A test of self-will to resist the allure of sleep each morning.

To resist the allure of you on her bed.

Which is why she feels entitled to your touch the second she's finished with her shower, you're the prize she has rightfully earned. Drying off her damp skin as she watches you with keen eyes, noticing the way your eyes linger on each droplet she wipes off of her body.

Finishing drying her hair, Lae'zel finally joins you on the bed after what felt like long hours of torture that realistically only amounted to ten minutes tops.

She smells absolutely divine, her hair is so soft as you run your fingers through it, using it to guide her face closer to yours. Her lips taste just as sweet as her scent, with a hint of toothpaste.

But a kiss is all that you have the stamina for. You can't make it to the second kiss before dozzing off again, mind clouded by the comfort her presence brings. The unspeakable safety you feel in her arms, knowing that she would let nothing in this world ever lay a finger on you.

Even after so many years, she still keeps her sword sharp, just so your fingertips may grow softer each day. Because you at this moment, dozzing off in her arms in the early morning, is what she's fights for everyday.

The two of you stay under the warm blanket, Lae'zel has never felt a greater sense of belonging than in your embrace.

♡

Karlach

Her beloved teddy bear, Clive, is squished between the two of you.

Karlach decided that your arms were at the safest place for the second most treasured thing in her life. Whilst she got to hold you in her own arms, it's a win-win deal.

Wearing very little clothes while sleeping, her engine hums with a soft night-light red glow. Since fixing it, it's become much easier to fall asleep by her side without its blazing light and loud churning, now it's more akin to a glowing amber beneath her skin that you could easily miss in the morning light.

You still grew fond of that hum, the low metallic melody that spelled a promise of a second chance at life to her, to return back what was stolen. Rewind the time and tend to the wounds.

As far as Karlach was concerned, she was living the dream. Sure, fighting had its merits, but nothing could compare to the steady sway of a mundane life. As safe as a baby in a cradle, she relished in every peaceful sleep she was granted by your side.

Her horn was growing in again, the broken one, you noticed that when it started lightly scratching the side of your neck in the early morning. You made a mental note to have a talk with Karlach about changing the sleeping arrangements, after throwing a small celebration for her horn.

Maybe you'll get her a pie from that bakery she likes, it's only a few houses away from where you lived in this small community. And the flower lady did say she got a new batch of sunflowers coming in today, it looks like lady fortune was smiling your way today.

Her strong arms made you feel safe, protected, and loved. Her legs tangled with yours under the cover as she held you tighter.

Peppering small kisses down face, you started with her forhead, just below her horns, and then moved to her closed eyelids, below her eyes, on her cute nose and cheeks.

Finally meeting her lips, just before you could pull away from what was supposed to be a gentle quick smooch, Karlach pushed you on your back and pressed her lips against yours, deepening the kiss and not allowing you the chance to slip away from her hold.

Greedily eating up all of the small noises slipping out of you, her firey eyes met yours as the kiss kept going for a minute before she finally pulled back breathless.

"Damn that's the best way to wake up." She let out with a smug grin, arms roaming your body while her lips meet your neck, a kiss after another.

But they were too light, sleep still clouded her mind as what was supposed to be passionate, neck kissing, turned into a tickling sensation against your neck that made you chuckle.

Karlach seemed a bit embarrassed by her clumsy skills, but she took it in stride and laughed it off, settling for one final taste to your lips before laying on her back and pulling you on top of her. Manhandling you so early in the morning as if you were her personal teddy bear to cuddle up with in whatever position she wished to.

♡

Minthara

It's peaceful, too peaceful for her liking. Not that she ever falls asleep to begin with.

And yet she finds herself following you to bed, joining in this routine nightly as if it was her second nature to do so. Like a guard dog would see you to the front door of your house whenever you were getting ready to go out, waiting at the doorsteps until your arrival.

You don't think she'd appreciate this euphemism if you spoke it out loud, so you keep to yourself, even when you find her waiting for you in front of the house one day when you took a little too late to come home.

With a book in her hand and the reading glasses replacement number forty-six that she will surely misplace or break before the week ends, Minthara retires to her side of the bed next to you.

You'd be lying if you said that her presence didn't help ease your mind, that the sound of pages turning didn't help lull you into dreams. She doesn't meditate during those hours either, prefering to do it for a couple hours during the day when your wide awake.

Maybe it's for safety, why she is so keen on watching over your helpless form. An old habit that came from surviving drow society, making sure no one can ever catch both of you off guard at the same time.

She's in the same place when you wake up, her hair a bit more of a mess with her fingers flipping the book to its final pages, red eyes scanning the writing with care as she takes in the information. They were always in drow language, you wondered what kind did she read? Fiction or nonfiction? Novels or science books? History or biographies?

The only thing you could make out on the pages was the small scribble at the edges of stray pages, where Minthara marked where she last left off with a pen, rather than using the various bookmarks she's been gifted.

The more you focused on the scribble, the more it looked like a tiny spider with way too many legs, but your wife simply refuse to acknowledge that whenever you wondered about it aloud.

Stretching your arms above your head, your back weighted down comfortably on the silk sheets that Minthara insisted on getting. Bright lavender in colour and unbelievably smooth against your skin, like sleeping on top of a cloud.

Seeking attention, you moved closer to her until your head was on her lap, she was sitting with her back leaning against the headboard. Her hand quickly found your neck and softly traced her fingers down your skin, settling on the nape of your neck before giving it a comfortable squeeze to massage your sore muscles.

Her hands felt...heavenly, she always know where to touch you to get the exhumation out. What body points were the most prone to stress, even now her paladin training is still engraned into her soul.

Minthara's touches always held a clear declaration of possessiveness in them, a hunger that may never be sated to own you, body and soul. She embraces you as if you were her lovers in various past lives.

The sound of a pen clicking before a small scribble is added to the edge of the page in front of you is your sign to start the day. Minthara closes the book as her full attention is directed at you, a hungry look in her eyes.

Actual hunger, mind you. You see, princesses never learn how to cook, not to mention drow women nobility, and she has been waiting all night on an empty stomach so this is your sign to prepare breakfast, be it store-bought or homemade, she never makes a fuss.

Although she does make a mean cup of coffee, if you happened to like charcoal as a drink, that is. Drows had to improvise in the underdark with no coffee beans after all. Although what use would an elf have of an energy drink? You're not sure.

♡

#♡Minthara #♡Wyll #♡laezel #♡Karlach #♡fluff #minthara x reader #minthara baerne #Wyll Ravengard #Wyll x reader #lae'zel x reader #Lae'zel #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #Bg3 #bg3 x reader #nb!reader #fluff #Karlach #karlach x reader

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normal-thoughts-official · 9 days

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so i just got to the scene where gale says that he'd like to introduce his LI to tara with a homecooked meal and the bladeweave brainrot is bad rn because i just know Wyll Fucking Ravengard would take that shit so seriously. he shows up to gale's tower armed with 5 different types of tressym-friendly wine (if ranger he knows what qualifies because he's a ranger, if warlock he knows what qualifies because he kept pestering mizora for the knowledge and wouldn't take no for an answer). each of them has a different flavor profile so he can maximize his chances of getting something tara would like. he's wearing his best suit, i'm talking wedding levels of fancy here, and gale is in his dumb little robes with his dumb little apron fully intending for this to be a homey low profile event but no such thing when Wyll Fucking Ravengard is on a mission to impress his beloved and his loved ones and his pet. that 17 rizz has never been put to use harder than it was when he introduced himself to "gale's best friend, the one who made sure he was still cherished and beloved before I had the honor to meet him. from the bottom of my heart, thank you. and might i say you look lovely this evening". he's at his absolute smoothest while talking with this fucking winged cat and no one will convince me otherwise. inside he's sweating and tara can literally smell his fear but that only makes her like him more because she knows it means wyll 1- loves gale, and 2- understands the depth of the bond the two of them share. this post started out funny but genuinely wyll canonically loves animals and you know whatever's important to you is automatically important to him and gale's... unconventional attachment to tara probably got him raised eyebrows more than once but wyll doesn't even consider not seeing this cat as a fully fledged individual who's extremely important to both of them. him thanking her for taking care of gale is wholeheartedly genuine. he is probably the first non-gale human she's liked since elminster and he is exactly as proud of that achievement as gale had hoped

#all of that is to say. i like them a normal amount #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #bladeweave #tara the tressym #tara bg3 #overflowing trashcan

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tadfools · 4 months

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So I’m romancing my most beloved Wyll for the first time right? And it makes the dance scene in act two so sweet when I realized that you can ask him to teach you how to dance after you find out he’s Ravengard’s son

“give it some time” he stutters! “ let’s develop a bond first” he flusters! And then you do! And then you do! And he surprises you by teaching you how to dance!!

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #wyll bg3 #wyll ravengard #IM SOBBING

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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

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WYLL NATION- RISE!

I know a ton of you will have probably already seen this before, but on the off-chance ANY of you have not- here is the cutest thing about young Wyll ever in Baldurs Gate 3

If you go into the bank and make your way (totally 100% ethically) into High Security Vault No.5, you will find a mace, a little under 500g and- the most valuable thing in there- THIS BOOK

Transcript:

[This is a worn and much-handled journal in which Ulder Ravengard recorded his favourite memories of his beloved Wyll. A typical entry follows]

15 Flamerule - Spent the afternoon with Wyll on the docks down by the Water Queens House, relaxing on the planks though the harbour fog swallowed the sun as usual. Wyll asked if the temple waveservants were real mermaids, and i told him they certainly looked the part, but real mermaids could breathe underwater and rarely showed their faces above it. 'Then I'm going to swim down and catch one!' He shouted, and dove off the end of the dock. He kept trying to hold his breath to stay under the surface, but eventually he got exhausted and I had to haul him out - minus his new shoes, alas. But I'll never forget his smile as he said 'I saw one, father - I saw a mermaid, a real mermaid!' Then his eyes grew misty as he added, 'she was beautiful'

Like???

That is SO cute. Oh my god. What a little sweetheart. Our lil man just lost his new shoes. Bless his fathers patience, but who can be mad at that lil face anyway

Thank you for coming to my PSA

#bg3 #and sorry for the wall of text #baldur's gate 3 #baldursgate3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll

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grandmother-goblin · 4 months

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-slams fist on table-

And another demand (actually polite request) for Larian for BG3!

You all know how Shadowheart has those flashbacks/memories she can show the player with the wolves?

I want that, except it’s Wyll making the pact with Mizora. I think that would be so cool and impactful if the player actually got to see Wyll as a scared young man put into an impossible situation. Also, I wanna see what exactly he did to save the city. It would make for an awesome cutscene!

Anyways, Wyll Ravengard, my beloved ❤️❤️❤️

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard

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todderwodders · 2 months

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Hmmm, maybe… Jaheira to Wyll, or vice-versa, post-game? (If they’re both still alive, lol)

I'm writing Letter Fic! Received on the tenth day of the tenth month of the year 1493. Duke Ravengard, I have known men who do not know the meaning of the word courage, though they speak of it often. I know men who speak of the world love, though they speak of it often. I know men who grow into young men. They talk as men, and walk as men, but they do not know the meaning of manhood. They do not know what it is to be a true friend, nor companion, nor lover, and certainly, they do not know what it is to be husband, a bond and duty which encapsulates all of these things. My daughter writes to me of this day, of your engagement to the Bhaalsdaughter. She speaks of your kind words, of your growing hair, of your future bride's changing body in response to a much kinder life than she has ever known before. She speaks of it in less glowing terms, but she has not been in love, and forgets that in her younger days, she too ate and drank as much as she so desired, freed from the burden of strife. I do not know how to say it well, so I do not reference this at all in my response. But to you, I speak frankly. I am grateful for the love you share. I am grateful that it exists and that you have it. it is one of life's greatest pleasures. However, I beseech you now: do not rush your marriage. I was married to my Khalid on a cart. It was sparse and cold and perhaps I was not kitted out to be what many imagine a bride to be, but we did not care. My time together with my husband was so short, even by the standards of shorter lived peoples. When I heard of your marriage, I was happy for you, yes, but I was sad, too. Sad for myself, if this self pitying old woman is allowed a moment of honesty. I reflected on this for many days and nights. I lost some bit of sleep. It is silly, how much I deliberated on these feelings, and how simple the answer I arrived to truly is. I loved my husband, and I wish I had more memories of our marriage. I wish we had not married so quickly. How strange that is to say, when it has been so long, and I had thought I had ruminated all i could on my husband. Life does not take to it's work so easily, so cleanly. Grief is ever lasting. It will follow you forever, and closely, if you let it. The insight of grief is also ever lasting, and in some strange way, I feel so very close to the time that I had with every beloved person I have ever known and lost. So do not rush. Do not weep, for death and loss is also apart of life. It cannot be slain. It can be accepted. Understand, my friend, exactly what you have in your possession, and what you stand to lose, and hold it loosely anyways. There is no dragon to slay in the home in which a marriage resides. One day you will part from one another, be it for another or in the slipping from this mortal coil. This fragility makes things so sweet. Speak plainly, and gently. Make your words known. Understand that she will ask much. and you will ask much, and perhaps neither of you understand each other at all, some days. You make no error by these events - it simply is. Love is not a man being put aside, for he has made some silly mistake. You are no longer in your father's house, nor are you hunting the Coast for beasts and strange, evil men. You are your own man now, Wyll, and you choose the home you build. Make something you are proud of. Hold your beloved's hand gently. Be as your best traits allow, and forgive when you are not always your best. It will happen. Savor the cake, and the cloth, and the fine fruit of your table. Love is strong, and full of trust, and it is about being the bravest companion, the truest friend, the most loyal of men. This I know you will be, and much more. Know that your friend has faith in you. P.S. I expect a wedding invitation post haste.

#bg3 #wyll ravengard #jaheira #my writing #i hope this is okay i have NEVER written jaheira

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keldae · 3 months

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8. “If you give me a minute….I think I can make this worse.”

This was officially worse than the djinni incident, in Gale’s humble opinion.

First, he had been left in the camp that morning, when he’d woken up with a headache that wouldn’t abate, even with Shadowheart’s healing touch. He’d been forced to sit by while Devi had ventured out with Wyll, Astarion, and Jaheira – and the fretting about his beloved half-Elf did not ease his headache at all, even with Jaheira’s assurances that she wouldn’t let her “cub” get into too much trouble, despite Bhaalists and a psychotic shapeshifter in the form of Orin running around Baldur’s Gate.

An hour after the four had left, there had been what had to be the far-away, but still distinct sounds of a riot happening – yells, and explosions, and the too-familiar noises of a Steel Watcher mechanically issuing orders. Gale’s gut instincts told him that Devi was somehow involved.

The riot noises eventually subsided, and for a good portion of the day, it had been suspiciously peaceful around the camp. Gale’s headache still wasn’t going away, but after drinking an herbal tea that he’d sent Karlach to go barter for (thank Mystra that the tiefling had gotten the right one), it was almost bearable. He suspected he would be fine to accompany his beloved little thief in the morning on her next venture out into the city.

The Fist patrol stopping by the ramshackle camp was a surprise. The two guards had looked around the site for a minute, tilting their heads at Lae’zel and her impressive weapons collection, and blinking at the large owlbear cub (who Halsin, before his abduction, had named Garmus), and politely nodding at Dame Aylin and Isobel, before taking their leave. Apparently the nautiloid survivors weren’t the only adventurers to make their temporary residence in the run-down alleys of the Lower City – the Fist soldiers didn’t seem perturbed by their presence.

The two Guild members who had popped in about an hour later were another surprise. Gale felt his headache resurge when the dragonborn had asked about “a pretty half-Elf with her hands in everyone’s pockets, and a devil with a sword who looked a lot like a younger Duke Ravengard, and another particularly pale Elf with red eyes, and the older woman who was trying to corral the lot of them”. Eventually accepting that nobody left in the camp knew what the hells their friends had gotten into, the Guild members finally shrugged and walked off.

Then one of Jaheira’s adopted children had meandered in, took one look around for the High Harper, swore under her breath, and left the same way she’d come.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Gale said, fidgeting with his staff and ignoring Shadowheart trying to push him back to his tent. “Gods be damned, I should have gone with them!”

“You weren’t able to so much as sit up without your head trying to kill you until after noon!” Shadowheart retorted. “Sit down, or I’ll stuff a sleeping potion down your throat, Gale.”

Gale gifted the cleric with a scowl, then set to pacing through the camp, disregarding Shadowheart’s threat. “We need to find them. We should have set out when we first heard the pandemonium this morning. If we–”

“Baldur’s Gate’s a big city,” Karlach dubiously pointed out. “You really wanna go meandering down every street and back alley to find them? Jaheira and Devi can both blend into a crowd.”

“Wyll and Astarion both stand out though,” Lae’zel commented. “Unless there are other devils walking around the city with swords on their backs, or Elvish vampires. Surely we can find them.”

“Unless they’ve taken to the sewers again, or the rooftops,” Shadowheart said. She ignored Gale’s groan at the distinct possibility. “And gods help whoever tries to find someone in the sewers. If it were me, and I was being hunted by apparently everyone in the city, that’s where I would go.” She watched Gale pacing back and forth, and sighed. “Scratch, get Gale to sit down, will you?”

Scratch just barked inquisitively at Shadowheart, then trotted over to Isobel for pets.

“That wasn’t helpful,” Shadowheart muttered.

Dame Aylin chuckled, leaning against the wall. “I’m sure they’ll turn up soon – Deviali’s quite the resourceful one. She–” She yelped in surprise as the stones by her feet suddenly started to wriggle. “What the hells!”

A manhole was opened, disguised (for some reason that Gale would never be able to wrap his head around) by the cobblestones. Wyll’s horned head popped out of the opening; the warlock looked around, then grinned and looked back down. “Right one this time!” he called, before scrambling out of the hole. “So… we’ve had a day,” he started to say, brushing off his clothes from gods-only-knew-what. “Do you really want the details?”

“Oh, hell yes!” Karlach crowed, eyes alight with excitement.

Wyll made a face. “All right. So it started with Devi trying – and failing – to pick a Fist’s pocket… again. She got caught, and it was either ‘pick a fight and earn the ire of the entire Fist, plus a Steel Watcher’, or ‘run’, so we decided to run – or rather, she decided to run, and the three of us got roped in with her since the Fist’s companions had seen us together earlier.”

“Was that the riot noises we heard?” Isobel asked, tilting her head.

“I’m getting there.” Wyll sighed. “So, Devi decided to pick an escape route that took us through a crowd of people in a bazaar, and naturally the Fist gave chase. Here’s where it gets bad – my horns may have caught a low-hanging sign on a building as I was running and knocked it down, but it was attached with a clothesline to another building’s facade and brought it down in the middle of the crowd.”

That got winces from everyone listening. “Anyone hurt?” Shadowheart asked.

“Probably, but we didn’t have time to stop and check,” Wyll answered. “We somehow escaped some of the notice, but some of the civilians noticed the Fist and the Steel Watcher, and blamed them. Half of them started shouting at the soldiers, and the other half was trying to catch us. It was chaos.”

“So that was the sound of the riot…” Lae’zel murmured. “We wondered what that was.”

“If you give me a minute, I think I can make this story worse,” Wyll dryly said.

Gale stared at the warlock, his brain pounding in his skull. “It gets worse? Worse than the four of you being chased by the Fist and half of the Lower City?”

Wyll just winced and nodded. “Devi’s fine,” he quickly assured the wizard. “... Relatively speaking.”

Gale felt his eye twitch. “What do you mean, ‘relatively speaking’?”

“I’m getting there, Gale, keep your robes on. Where was I?” Wyll thought for a moment. “Ah, yes. So, we were running, and Devi ducked down an alley to throw off pursuit. There was an open manhole in the alley, so naturally the four of us dived down it.”

“Even Astarion?” Karlach asked with a laugh.

“Even Astarion,” Wyll confirmed. “We got down the ladder and started down the corridor we were in, until we came around a corner and found a group of Bhaalist cultists having some sort of a meeting. I’m not sure which of our groups was more startled – them, or us. But, you know Bhaalists – the weapons were coming out, no matter how Devi tried to talk us out of it.”

Gale sat down on a bench and started rubbing his temples. “How bad was it?”

“Surprisingly not that bad, all things considered. But, I do think I have to kill Mizora for fucking with my magic,” Wyll muttered. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she had done that, just to mess with me.”

“That’s a demon for you,” Dame Aylin said with a sage nod. “... What did you do?”

Wyll sighed, then took a subtle step away from Gale. “So, I was casting a spell, and was aiming at one of the cultists, but my spell went completely sideways… literally.” He gave Gale a sidelong look. “Devi… may or may not have gotten hit by it.”

Gale was back on his feet in a heartbeat, staff in his hands. “What?”

“It was an accident!” Wyll cried out. “And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that bad a spell–”

Before he quite realised he was moving, Gale was in Wyll’s face and staring the other man down, his headache increased by his freshly-renewed bad mood. “What. Spell?”

“... Polymorph,” Wyll sheepishly said. “At least it wasn’t the eldritch blast?”

“Just what the hells did you polymorph her into?” Gale demanded.

Wyll just looked down at the manhole as another pair of gloved hands suddenly emerged. Jaheira clambered out of the manhole, grumbling under her breath and with a fiercely-wriggling satchel on her hip. Devi and Astarion, Gale noted with no small amount of dread, were nowhere to be seen. The High Harper looked at Wyll and smirked. “Ah, so you survived telling our resident wizard what you did to his beloved?”

“It was an accident, I swear!” Wyll said, quickly looking back at Gale. “If it’s any consolation, apparently it was a two-for-one cast – Astarion got hit with the polymorph as well.”

“And turned into what?” Shadowheart asked, coming up behind Gale with a curious look in her eyes.

In answer, Jaheira reached into her satchel and started fishing around. “Ow!” she exclaimed, glaring at the satchel and its contents before extracting both hands from the bag. In each hand, she held a writhing, angry kitten by the scruff of its neck – one coppery-red with green eyes, and one with bright white fur.

“... You polymorphed them into cats?” Gale demanded as Karlach collapsed with a howl of laughter.

“If it’s any consolation, I intended on polymorphing the cultist I was targeting into a sheep–” Wyll started to say.

“That is not consolation!” Gale reached out for the coppery kitten; Jaheira was only too willing to hand the cat over. The kitten, who had to be Devi to go by the fur and eye colour, stared at Gale as he held her at arm’s length and meowed plaintively at him. “Oh, my love,” Gale sighed, “what the hells happened to you?”

“Don’t listen to her complaining about the satchel,” Jaheira growled. “She and Astarion both got distracted with trying to chase a rat down there, and it fell to me to wrangle them into the bag!”

“There was also the Guild member we came across, who Astarion bit on the ankle before Jaheira could catch him, and I fell through a weak wall while chasing Devi and wound up in someone’s basement, so we had to run again while the homeowner was chasing us, and then there were the very angry githyanki loyalists who were coming after us for a spell, not to mention a couple more Fist soldiers when we accidentally came up through the wrong manholes…” Wyll trailed off as Gale glared at him. “... But, we made it back to camp safe and sound! And now if you’ll excuse me, I have a demon to summon so I can tell her off.”

Gale watched the younger man step away (probably making good his escape from the wizard’s wrath), then looked at the kitten in his hands and sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Devi?” he asked. “I suppose I should be grateful Wyll didn’t turn you into a mouse or a pigeon.”

The kitten meowed at him again; Gale shook his head, then drew the small animal up to his chest. Devi promptly used the opportunity to scale his robes with sharp little claws, earning winces from the wizard until she had reached his shoulder. She gave the wizard a headbutt, then meowed in his ear before curling up in a ball, precariously balanced on him. Gale sighed again, then watched as Jaheira handed a loudly-complaining Astarion-as-a-cat off to Shadowheart. “How long ago was that fight with the cultists, and the spell?” he asked.

Jaheira eyed the sun’s position in the sky contemplatively. “I would think about three hours ago?”

Gale froze. “... Polymorph spells don’t usually last longer than one hour!”

“I’m aware, Gale. I’m going with Wyll’s theory that his broken contract with Mizora is having an effect on his spells. We can be worried if they haven’t transformed back by the morning.” Jaheira shook her head and went back to examining the scratches in the leather of her gloves, left by tiny feline claws. “I should have something in my house about reversing a long-term-effect polymorph, but it will be a little difficult for me to get there with the Fist actively looking for us. I can try tomorrow, when the chase grows cold.”

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache merrily pounding through his brain, then glanced over as he heard a noisy purr from his shoulder. “Oh, I’m glad you’re comfortable,” he dryly said to the kitten that had been his lover only that morning.

Devi mewed at him, then got back on her paws, carefully balancing on Gale’s shoulder as she started grooming his beard with a rough little tongue. Gale sighed, looking skyward. “Just how much of this are you going to remember when you eventually transform back?” he asked. “You did remember being a cheese. Then again, shapeshifters tend to adopt the instincts of whatever they have shifted into, and a cheese doesn’t really have any sort of an instinct…”

“Polymorphing is just strange,” Karlach said as she came up to Gale, eyeing Devi-the-cat, then looking over as Shadowheart tried to hand Astarion off to Lae’zel, who wanted nothing to do with the vampire cat. The tiefling was still grinning from ear to ear as she addressed Devi. “How about it? Are you gonna remember grooming your other half when we eventually get you back into a half-Elf?”

Devi meowed and went back to her task of grooming Gale’s beard.

Karlach laughed as Gale softly groaned. “It is kind of hilarious, Gale – and Devi makes a very cute kitten.” She glanced over at Lae’zel and Shadowheart. “Astarion would make a cute cat, if he wasn’t trying to scratch everyone’s eyes out,” she added, her voice raised enough to make herself pointedly clear.

Astarion just growled, loudly enough for Gale and Karlach to hear him ten paces away, even over the sounds of Wyll having a loud argument with Mizora by his tent. The white cat’s ire just got a snicker from Karlach before she reached to pet Devi’s back. “Y’know, from how you climb roofs so easily and how quiet you move, I always wondered if you were part cat, somewhere in your heritage.”

Gale blinked at the tiefling. “You think she has tabaxi heritage, besides the human and Elven blood?”

Karlach shrugged. “Maybe that, or one of her ancestors was a druid whose preferred wild form was a cat of some sort?”

“... It’s not the most unlikely idea I’ve ever heard,” Gale finally admitted. His eyes flicked down to the kitten on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, we’ll never know the truth of the matter–” He yelped as Devi batted at his earring, earning a snort from Karlach, then reached up for the cat. “All right, I have my boundaries, darling. The earring is off-limits, even for you.”

Devi meowed in protest as Gale brought her back down to his arms.

“No, I don’t care if you don’t like it,” Gale informed the kitten. “You are not allowed to play with my earring – it’s bad enough that I was tolerating you grooming me!” He sighed and gave Devi a rub behind her pointed ears, earning a purr. “All I need is for Tara to appear now and accuse me of replacing her with a younger, cuter feline companion.”

“She a jealous type of tressym?” Karlach asked with a laugh.

“Is there any other type?” Gale dryly asked, and got another snort from the tiefling. The wizard sighed and shook his head. “And I thought my headache this morning was terrible enough. I think it’s on its way to becoming a migraine.”

“Go rest in your tent – Devi might behave for you, since you’re her favourite person.” Karlach set her hands on Gale’s shoulders and gave him a gentle push to the tents. “I’ll help the others try to corral Astarion. Maybe if we put him on a leash…”

Gale paused, pursing his lips. “... My headache isn’t so bad that I can’t conjure up a leash for him,” he finally said. He pointedly ignored the feeling of Astarion’s feline glare on him as he waved his hand, and a leash appeared out of thin air. “Behold, my contribution to keeping Astarion from running off. And now, I’m going to go and take a nap.”

“Sweet dreams!” Karlach laughed as she collected the leash and made her way up to Shadowheart and Lae’zel, and the cat they were struggling to restrain. “You know, if you were less of an escape artist, we wouldn’t have to resort to these drastic measures, Astarion…”

Ruefully chuckling, Gale shook his head, then made his way back to his tent, depositing Devi on his bedroll before magically securing the tent flap, and any other avenue of escape the cat could make use of. “The longer you behave, the better your odds of not getting your own leash,” he informed the cat.

Devi meowed, then as Gale laid down, started grooming his hair.

Gale sighed. “I give up. You’re just going to groom me, no matter what I say, hmm?” He rested his head on the pillow, feeling as Devi licked his hair a few more times, then curled up beside his head and started purring. He reached up to give her pets, and felt the purring grow louder. “Thank you for choosing me as your favourite person, my love,” he chuckled, closing his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep with his lover-as-a-cat beside him.

—

The evening mealtime did not see the two rogues returned to their biped forms. Gale poked at the fish on his plate, watching Devi, who was alternating her time between sitting at his side, waiting for another bite of his meal, and scampering around the campsite, never out of Gale’s field of vision. The wizard suspected she was intentionally flaunting her freedoms in front of Astarion, who was on the end of the leash secured under Lae’zel’s foot and making sure everyone knew he was not happy about it.

“It’s your own fault you’re on the leash, you know,” Wyll informed Astarion, munching on a roll. “If you hadn’t tried to climb up a building to escape…”

“I think putting all the fault on Astarion may not be warranted,” Gale muttered. “Contrary though he may be on the best of days.”

Wyll sighed. “It was an accident! And I said I was sorry for accidentally polymorphing both of them into cats!”

“And Gale will continue to be grouchy until the spell wears off and he has his woman back,” Karlach pointed out with a snicker. “Where is Devi, anyway?”

Gale looked around, then nodded with his head as Garmus the owlbear cub came lumbering up to the fire, Devi perched on his head like a proud knight. Scratch trotted beside the pair, tongue lolling out happily. “She probably won’t go far,” he said. “I’m here, and I have food – and I threatened her with her own leash if she didn’t behave.”

“Smart,” Jaheira said. “And coming from you, the cub – er, kitten – probably won’t push that argument too much.” She smirked. “Partially because she loves you, and partially because she knows you’ll follow through with it.”

A little smirk on his lips, Gale broke off a piece of hard cheese, then lowered his hand. “Psspsspssp,” he said, then sighed as Scratch scampered over first. “No, not you, Scratch.”

Scratch whined at Gale and set a heavy chin on his knee, looking up at him with big, soulful brown eyes.

Gale sighed again, then fed Scratch the cheese before breaking off another piece. “Devi!” he called. “Come here, before Scratch eats everything for you off of my plate.”

Devi meowed, then jumped off Garmus’ head and raced over to Gale, her tail standing straight up behind her. She leaped up onto the bench beside the wizard, then took the cheese from his fingers, happily eating it.

“That’s my girl,” Gale murmured approvingly, petting Devi’s back and hearing her purr. He handed her a piece of fish next, which she devoured. “Karlach was right, you know. You do make a cute kitten.”

With a mew, Devi finished her piece of fish, then climbed onto Gale’s lap.

“Although I’ll still be much happier when you’re a person again.” Gale ruefully chuckled, rubbing behind Devi’s ears as he lifted his plate safely out of range of both the cat and Scratch. “Veni et iuva me,” he muttered, and a Mage Hand appeared to rescue the plate, freeing both his hands to pet Devi. “Honestly, how do you and Astarion have such poor luck with being polymorphed? First the cheese, now the cats… in less than a tenday!”

“At least this time, neither of them is at risk of being eaten?” Shadowheart asked. She looked down at Astarion as he headbutted her leg. “You had your chance to get pets, and you tried to bite my hand. No pets for you.”

Astarion loudly meowed his protest.

Shadowheart sighed, then broke off another piece of her fish and fed it to the vampire cat. “I will say, we didn’t need to feed either of them when they were cheese.”

“Yes, but it's generally frowned upon to pet a wheel of cheese,” Wyll commented. “And they're cuter as cats than as food.”

“Technically,” Lae’zel pointed out, “they could be food if one was desperate enough…”

Gale frowned and tugged Devi a little closer to his chest. “Don't worry, my love,” he said to the cat. “I won't let anyone try to eat you.”

Devi purred, pushing her head into Gale's hands for more pets; the wizard obliged her willingly. “We appear to have gotten both extremes of cats; the snuggly cat who adores pets, and the standoffish cat who is a little too free with the claws,” he mused.

Astarion meowed at Gale, sounding more than a little put-out.

“Am I wrong?” Gale retorted. “Your own bad behaviour is why you're leashed now!”

Devi meowed, then jumped off Gale's lap and pounced on Astarion. The vampire cat irritably yowled and retaliated against Devi's attack, quickly getting tangled up in his leash.

Gale sighed, watching the two cats tussle. “... I really shouldn't just sit here and watch,” he said. “If I were a responsible sort of wizard, I would separate them.”

“But it would be hilarious if they transformed back right now,” Karlach pointed out with a grin. “Awww, Astarion is still bitey even as a cat!”

“Hopefully not for the same reason as his biting as a person,” Shadowheart said. She set down her plate, then took a deep breath and dove her hands into the fray, emerging with Devi held by the scruff of her neck. “Was picking a fight with Astarion really necessary?” she scolded.

Devi meowed, a definite note of annoyance in her tone, and waved her paws at Shadowheart's face.

“You can go attack Wyll's feet if you want to fight something,” Shadowheart said, standing up long enough to plop the cat back on Gale's lap. “Astarion, don't provoke Devi – she's almost as bitey as you.”

“Please don't attack my feet,” Wyll muttered. “For the hundredth time, I didn't mean to turn either of you into cats! I wasn't even aiming at you!”

“What did Mizora have to say?” Isobel curiously asked.

Wyll scowled. “She just laughed and said that she lives for the entertainment value I provide her. We can't count on her for assistance.”

Gale sighed, then tightened his hold on Devi when she tried to jump back at Astarion. “No, leave him alone!” he said, feeling his nagging headache pound at his skull again. “Deviali…”

Devi hissed at the mention of her despised full name.

“Oh, I'm so glad you understood that,” Gale said, lifting the cat to his eye level and sternly looking at her. “The leash is still a valid threat if you don't behave.”

The cat in his hands meowed, then started to purr.

“It's a very good thing you're cute,” Gale murmured, drawing the cat back to his chest. He winced as he felt Devi start climbing up his robes again; a second later, he felt a little paw batting at his earring. “Hey!” he scolded, pulling Devi away from his piercing again. “What did I say about the earring?”

Devi just stared at him and meowed.

“Touch the earring again, and I swear, I'll conjure up a second leash for you,” Gale threatened. He set Devi back on his lap, distracting her with another piece of fish while he kept a firm hand on her back, lest she try to climb up his body again. “What am I going to do with you if you don't transform back, love?”

“Present her to your tressym as tribute?” Lae’zel asked with a smirk.

“Very funny. Tara will not be amused.” Gale sighed, then frowned as he sensed the Weave crackling around him. “What–”

There were two flashes of light and a chorus of surprised exclamations. Gale jumped as he found himself rather abruptly with a lap full of Devi, laying on her stomach over his legs, his hand still on her ass. Astarion rematerialised by Lae’zel's feet, and promptly started clawing at the leash. “Get this thing off me!” he demanded. “Leashing is not my kink!”

“No? A pity.” Lae’zel smirked as she undid the leash, ignoring Karlach's laugh. “But I'm sure you do have other carnal enjoyments, yes?”

“Not after being leashed like an animal, I don't!” Astarion retorted, rubbing his neck and glaring at Gale.

“I hate to break it to you, but you were an animal a minute ago,” Gale pointed out. He looked down as Devi scrambled back up to a sitting position beside him. “Welcome back, darling. Are you all right?”

“I… think so?” Devi shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “My memory is… fuzzy.”

“As fuzzy as you were just now?” Wyll cheerfully asked.

Devi frowned at the warlock. “Excuse me, but I am not ‘fuzzy’!” She tilted her head as his grin got wider. “I feel like I should be mad at you for something. I remember being very small, and being picked up and handed around…”

“So you don't remember being a cat?” Jaheira asked. “Complete with scratching my hands up, and trying to make Wyll lose his other eye?”

“That was Astarion that had a go at my eye,” Wyll interjected, with a scowl at the vampire.

“A cat?” Devi blinked. “How the hells did I get turned into a cat?”

“Wyll happened. We're partially blaming Mizora.” Gale shook his head and wrapped an arm around Devi's shoulders. “You do make an adorable cat though… even if a bratty one.”

“... Thank you, I think?” Devi looked up at Gale, then leaned into his side, her eyes leaving his. Gale watched her for a moment, then saw her hand start to slowly rise to his ear, her eyes never leaving what they had focused on.

Instinct had him swat her hand back down just as her fingertips reached his earring. “Stop trying to play with my earring!” he scolded.

“I'm sorry! I just… feel compelled! It's so shiny!”

Gale sighed heavily as laughter echoed around them. “Your body might be a person again, but your mind is still that of a cat. Please don't pounce on Astarion again.”

“No promises,” Devi said. She looked around at everyone snickering (except Astarion, who had moved up from the ground to the bench and was trying to straighten his clothes, all while looking thoroughly miffed), then back at Gale, a moment before she put her legs across his lap and snuggled against him. “Don't mind me. I'm very cuddly tonight.”

Shaking his head, Gale slipped his arm down her back to hold her closer. “As long as you leave my earring alone and don't try to groom me again–”

“Wait. What do you mean, ‘groom’ you?” Devi demanded. “As in, with my tongue, and…” She saw Gale's smirk and slow nod, at the same time that Karlach fell off her bench laughing, and squeaked, burying her face in the wizard's shoulder to blush. “Oh, hells.”

“Didn't know you were into that!” Karlach laughed. “Or that Gale’s apparently into leashes–!”

“I am not into leashes!” Gale retorted. “It was strictly a means to keep our cats corralled!”

“Well, if we hear noises from Gale's tent tonight, we know what methods of carnal pleasure he and Devi are playing with,” Lae’zel said with a grin. “Is ‘kitten’ not a pet name used by some human lovers anyway?”

Gale groaned as laughter resurged around camp. He shot Wyll a glare. “This is entirely your fault.”

“I thought we agreed Mizora was to blame!” Wyll protested.

“It was still your spell!” Gale sighed and gave Devi a squeeze. “Love, as a personal kindness to me, please don't get polymorphed into anything else. The cheese and the cat have been quite enough.”

“Again – no promises. Technically this wasn't my fault… I don't think.” Devi winked, then leaned against his shoulder and made a little noise of frustration. When Gale looked closely, she was peering at his earring again, seemingly fighting the urge to play with the jewellery.

“Don't even think about it,” the wizard warned. “Or I swear, I will tie you up–” He glared at Lae’zel and Karlach as they burst into laughter. “Not that way, either!”

“... Promises, promises,” Devi said with a grin that promised misbehaviour later.

Gale sighed again, looking skyward. How was this his life now?

#bg3 #bg3 fic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #deviali #act 3 spoilers #polymorphing gone wrong #humour #friendship #cats #in which Gale is proven to be a Cat Guy #kink jokes are made

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