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mooshywrites · 23 days

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Falling asleep on their laps

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Astarion ~

As the silky fabric draped over your body, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the peaceful expression on your face. The gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in the night air, the soft hush of your breath against his thigh - it was quite the calming scene.

The fire crackled nearby, casting dancing shadows that played across your features like fleeting whispers of a dream. Astarion's fingers twitched with the urge to reach for his needle and thread, to continue his meticulous work on a new garment he was creating. Yet, he dared not move a muscle, fearing that the slightest disturbance might rouse you from your nap.

He sighed in frustration, feeling like a prisoner under your touch. How was it that he, what he would consider to be quite the dangerous person, be so afraid of rousing you from your sleep?

Astarion glanced down at you, marveling once more at how serene your expression was. It was almost unfair how effortlessly you had him wrapped around your finger.

With a resigned huff, he turned his attention back to the crackling fire. The flames seemed to mock with their freedom, flickering and leaping without a care in the world. Astarion couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy - oh, to be as unrestrained as fire. But as he glanced back at you, he remembered why he endured this minor inconvenience with a begrudging fondness.

“Truly,” he muttered under his breath, “the sacrifices I make for love.”

Halsin ~

You didn’t even realize you were drifting off to sleep on Halsin’s lap until your vision had completely darkened, your dreams carrying you away. Halsin gazed down at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, unsure of how to maneuver without waking you from your blissful nap. Slowly and carefully, he attempted to lift you up from his lap, his muscles tense with the effort of trying not to disturb your sleep.

With a sudden jolt, you let out a soft snore, making Halsin freeze in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t awaken from his blunder. As he continued to gently shift your weight in his arms, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

After what felt like an eternity of careful maneuvering, Halsin finally managed to bring you to a softer patch of moss nearby. With a triumphant grin, he gingerly laid you down on the cushiony surface, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with tenderness.

Halsin watched as your eyebrows furrowed, your sleepy expression seemingly tense. Suddenly, your hand shot out from under the blanket, reaching for him in your sleep. Your fingers brushed against his shirt sleeve and clung to it, pulling Halsin towards you with a force that surprised him. His eyes widened as he was pulled forward, watching as you sighed in contentment now that he was closer.

“Not to worry, little duck,” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gale ~

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled against Gale’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing along with his voice against you pulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Gale, with the worn, dog-eared book in his hands, looked down at you. His eyes softened at the sight of your resting so happily against him, your head nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. He let his fingertips gently trace the contours of your face, from your closed eyes and their fluttering lashes to your slightly parted lips.

Gale’s brow creased as he saw you shiver softly, your arms shifting against him further to steal some of his warmth. His heart twinged seeing you in such a state; he wanted to fetch you a blanket himself, but feared even the lightest movement would disturb your sleep. After a moment of thinking, a vague idea formed in his mind. He extended a hand, the air trembling ever so slightly as magic sparked alive at his fingertips.

An incantation whispered under his breath brought forth his mage hand, spectral and blue. He guided it carefully, directing it towards the plush blanket resting on the other side of the room. It moved soundlessly through the air, returning to Gale’s side with its precious cargo. With one more soft command, the mage hand spread the blanket over you delicately.

Gale shifted slightly, smiling as you relaxed under the new warmth. His attention returned to the book, finding his place on the page.

“Anyways, my darling,” he murmured happily, “where were we.”

Wyll ~

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow upon the dimly lit study. Wyll, deep in concentration, pored over the building plans and scrolls strewn across his desk, his brow furrowed as he consulted one plan after another. Beside him, you yawned sleepily, your eyelids drooping as you rested against him. You tried valiantly to remain awake, curious about the plans that would shape your future home, but the lullaby of the fire and the late hour were proving too much to resist.

Wyll glanced up from his notes and landed on your sleeping form, smiling softly.

“I suppose these can wait until morning,” he whispered, gently gathering up the papers. Strong arms scooped you up from the chair effortlessly, carrying you across the room as if you weighed no more than a feather.

He settled you carefully into the large four-poster bed that dominated one corner of the room. The velvety soft blankets enveloped you in a cocoon of warmth as Wyll slid in beside you. His arms encircled you, pulling ou close against his broad chest. You nestled into him, breathing in the comforting scent of pine and leather.

“A nap is a wonderful plan, my love,” he teased, pressing a kiss against your forehead quietly, “I should’ve thought of it myself.”

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amandacanwrite · 2 months

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The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from.

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment.

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes.

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think.

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery.

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror.

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer.

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was.

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis.

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness.

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid.

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place.

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain.

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest.

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first.

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes.

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe?

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her.

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky!

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth.

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted.

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged.

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly.

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity.

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios–he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain.

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired.

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other.

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next.

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary.

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that.

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl.

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship.

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate.

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all.

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out.

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing.

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much.

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright.

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand.

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead.

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman.

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow.

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together.

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him.

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin.

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior.

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening.

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes.

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked.

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least–if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised.

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said.

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her.

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words.

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling.

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate.

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said.

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out.

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city.

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said.

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side.

When was the last time? It must have been ages.

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No.

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore.

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said.

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend. Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him.

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head.

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

#writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #romantasy #writers on tumblr #writing community #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale headcannons #gale x tav #student x teacher #professor! gale #Gale dekarios #dekarios clan #violet thread of fate

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whaledenwtf · 4 months

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Hello! This might be a weird request but what about Gale, Halsin and Astarion with a s/o who's super cute and friendly and overall just a gigantic sweetheart who also happens to canonically be horrifyingly powerful. Like potentially even more destructive than Gale and the orb. Enemies who know their lore turn and run just at the mention of them and their name strikes fear into many hearts but then the camera pans over and it's this short sweetheart of a person. Literally this post basically

Thank you so so much, I really love your writing! Also Happy Holidays sweetie! ☺️

I love this idea!! I made it headcannons so it wasn't too long to read! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Please ask more, I love writing things for people <3

REQUEST HERE

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale and Halsin with a super cute friendly S/O who's horrifyingly powerful

Warnings: None, this is just indulgent FLUFF, Minor Spoilers for Act 1 and for Gale and Astarion's Lore

Astarion

You were always sweet with Astarion, and only made him feel comfortable and safe.

After he told you he was a vampire, you accepted him despite everyone else telling you not to!

When you told him you could beat Cazador, he didn't believe you at first because of your sweet nature.

The first time he realized you were a legend was when you guys raided the Goblin Camp to save Halsin.

You initially told everyone your name was Tav, so nobody really knew who you were.

Every Goblin met their end with a swing of your weapon, gutting them before they blinked.

It scared your companions, honestly.

When you got to Minthara, you told her your name was (Y/N), and she backed away from you.

Astarion was confused until Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel spoke of your legendary moniker.

Wyll may be known as the "Blade of Frontiers" but you were known as "The Walking Death" and that was thrilling for Astarion.

Every monster, creature and being met their demise when face to face with you.

Astarion was a slave for 200 years, only knowing the bare minimum from Cazador. But knowing you were on his side, and under his thumb, that thrilled him!

Once you apologized about lying to your companions, they all welcomed you in their arms, especially Astarion.

As he slowly falls in love with you, he realizes that he likes knowing his significant other is not only powerful and showed no mercy, but showed him life through another lens.

You show him that love doesn't make someone weak, but stronger.

You're powerful, and having you by his side makes him feel unstoppable as well.

He is very grateful for you. You will pull him from Cazador's clutches and stay with him through it.

Despite your sweet nature, you kicked ass. You saved everyone you could, which annoyed Astarion. But he loved you despite it, and always will.

After all, why would he run away from the first good thing to happen to him?

Gale

He was also confused about who you were right away. As a scholar he spent most of his time in books, rather than the battlefield.

Honestly, his mind was distracted between the Netherese Orb in his chest and Mystra.

When you pulled him out of the portal, he was struck by your kindness.

Then he was struck by your beauty when you fought valiantly for your companions.

He was excited seeing someone so powerful near him, and honestly fell harder.

After telling you what Mystra did, you told him you'd kill her.

He laughed you off, until he saw what you could do.

Now he's worried he won't have a goddess to worship.

Your battle prowess is astounding, and he can't help but admire you as you shout commands to your companions.

You always were gentle with Gale, soft touches and sweet nothings between you two.

He always finds it difficult to associate you with your title.

"The Slayer of Man and Beast" he's heard Lae'zel and Shadowheart call you.

You always chuckle and tell them "soon you'll have to add gods to that"

Now he's even more worried about his goddess

Over time, he considers you his goddess. After all, you've protected and respected him much more than Mystra ever had.

When he tells you about the Netherese Orb, you shrug him off.

"Nothing will keep me from you, not even a bomb."

Wow

When you two are alone, he caresses your muscles and your hands. He's in love with the idea of his significant other being this battle-worn individual set to protect him

Throughout your adventure, you remind him that you would protect him with your life.

"All for little old me?"

"Nobody will stop me from protecting you. No monster or goddess."

Man you really hate Mystra for hurting Gale so bad.

You dream about smiting her and protecting Gale in your arms.

While adventuring, you always keep Gale by your side. Everyone teases you for it until you shoot them a warning glance.

You're so so good to him. You take hits for him, heal him in battle, and heal him in the privacy of his tent.

"You're too good to me." He muttered once, eyes closed.

"You've never been treated right. It's my personal duty to make sure you never doubt yourself ever again." You replied, kissing his eyelids.

He just fell harder.

Halsin

He actually knew who you were before you saved him.

When you said your name, he bowed his head in respect.

"An honour to put a face to the name" He said to you.

You told him you loved how big and safe he was.

"You're the one who would keep me safe, little one."

He wasn't wrong. You've saved him multiple times throughout your adventure.

You were very sweet with Halsin, always leaning against his arms and closing your eyes when you sit together in camp.

He found it amusing, seeing such a feared individual be so innocent and kind with him.

In his 350 years of existence, he's never been so captivated by someone like you.

When he tasked you with eradicating the Goblin Camp, he enjoyed seeing the fear in Minthara's eyes when you said your name.

Despite being a druid, he knew that with life also came death. He accepted your past.

He found the juxtaposition of your personality endearing.

One day, he was in wildshape lounging around as a bear. You laid on him and spoke about different topics regarding your life.

In that same day, he saw you obliterate 20 goblins on your own.

He never thought he'd be aroused by someone killing goblins, but you did that.

You also knew all the spots to scratch when he was a bear??

Yes that's the spot. Right behind his ears.

He liked seeing the way you treat your companions with such kindness.

You showed respect and compassion to those who you find deserve it. You helped people find safety, and feel safe.

It was beautiful, the way you showed such love to those who were close to you.

He always compared you to the ocean.

"Why the ocean?" You asked him once.

"You can be calm, bring peace. But you are also wild, strong in the most beautiful way." He replied.

He enjoyed the way you blushed.

One time, you asked him to wildshape and you rode him into battle. Nothing is scarier than seeing (Y/N) "The Tempest" riding onto a bear.

Even your companions were scared

Ever since then, you always did it. It was like couple bonding, somehow??

Gods, he loves his little tempest

Hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write!!

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luvdisease · 2 months

Text

BG3 reactions to "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

DISCLAIMER: i am not a writing blog do not follow me expecting more hcs you'll be greatly disappointment by the fictional men thirst. this is so fucking stupid. characters included: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Karlach, Shadowheart

Astarion

"No."

"But what if-"

"I'd crush you under my heel."

damn.

alright.

Gale

"A polymorph spell? that should wear off soon enough."

"but if it didn't?"

"I haven't heard of a spell that strong, is there something I should be concerned about?"

Please. just answer the question man.

he starts fucking infodumping about polymorphing.

you cant even remember the question when he's done.

Halsin

"of course :)))"

what did u expect. man loves nature

"I'd set you free though, i cant bar you from living your true freedom and life as a worm, you belong in the dirt."

you assure him you would way rather stay with him as you live your worm life

He'd narrate the scenery around you... worms are blind

wants to give you a little pat on your worm head but worms are so small and he is.. so so big :(

Karlach

"Why are you a worm :( who did this"

its a HYPOTHETICAL

goes on about how you would travel with her as a worm by her side...

she would keep ur lil worm body warm

"where would you carry me?"

in front of her heart :) worms need a lot of heat

wait that's...

you're currently trying to figure out how to curse yourself immediately.

Shadowheart

"What kind of question is that?"

thoroughly confused.

after much persistence you wring an answer out of her

Yes, she'd keep you in a... jar or something.

hopefully she remembers to poke airholes.

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reverieblondie · 13 days

Note

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Astarion with touch starved gn s/o?

I ended up rewriting these a few times but I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Halsin

Halsin would never say you were obvious, but figuring out you were touched starved was relatively easy to tell. Especially with the game you were playing, it was clear after the nth time you asked for healing from him from a mere paper cut on your finger. Though, could anyone really blame you? After spending so much time on the road, with no friendly touch for weeks, then when Halsin came to your aid to heal you from a particularly nasty hit from a goblin, That was the start of it, the aching for him; you had been healed by others before but…nobody did healing like Halsin. Most healers hover their hands over you, but Halisn would hold you, pressing his large but tender hands to your skin, letting his healing magic flow through from him to you; the touch would send tingling shivers through you; some would argue that it was from the magic…But you knew it was from his touch. Halsin was more than willing to help heal you every time; in fact, the consent wanting his touch helped you two connect. Halsin hoped you would confess you wanted him to hold you one day. But you never did. So when you came for healing from your “terribly painful stomach ache,” he knew he would have to make the first move. “I think I know the perfect solution to your problem,” he whispered before he wrapped you in a tight hug; every ache and pain melted away from his touch. It is truly the perfect medicine anytime you feel touch starved.

Every party of Halsin is perfection in your eyes. Oak father really did a fantastic job when it came to making him. However, the one place you’re always grabbing onto the most is his arms. It’s not hard to see why; it’s nearly impossible to keep from clinging to his massive limbs, snuggling into them, running your hands over his thick forearms. Halsin, the sweetheart, doesn’t seem to mind your clinging, even if he is busy carving away. Now that Halsin has noticed your fondness for his arms, he may or may not start to flex them subtly when gesturing or wearing shirts that expose them so you can see every slight rippling of his muscles. Halsin will let you cling to him as long as he can nuzzle into his favorite part of you later tonight…

Now usually you’re the needy one in the relationship, pleading for hugs and beaming every time you get wrapped up in Halsins arms. Today has been different, however. It started when you woke up with Halsins hands creasing your sides and snuggling into your neck, of course you melted at the touch, thoroughly relishing in the attention, but it didn’t end there. Usually, Halsin would walk through the woods for some meditation and to gather herbs and materials for you two, but today, he didn’t leave your side. Of course, you loved it, but a part of you was starting to get worried. When you brought it up, he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I just find myself wanting to be near you, my heart.” You squeeze his large hands back, “Well, let me help you, my love.” rising to your tiptoes, you begin to pepper kisses all over Halsins face. He grabs your waist and lifts you to meet his lips with yours quickly; the kiss only makes him needier.

He loves every part of you, from your hair to your adorable toes. But his hands consistently linger on your curves. On those days when you are feeling extra needy. Halsin is more than willing to help…In some inventive ways. The contrast is maddening… The smooth honey slips on top of your heated skin, and then Halsins rough tongue licks up the sticky liquid off your stomach. His hands guide your back to an arch as he keeps his hazel eyes on your moaning face. Sucking and licking as his hands continue to run over your squirming body. Halsin doesn’t know what is sweeter, the honey or you; he will spend all night trying to figure it out.

Zevlor

Zevlor has been around for a while but was never too familiar with the term ‘Touched starved.’ Sure, he had heard it back in his commander days from soldiers whispering about needing attention of the flesh but never truly gave it too much thought…until. The idea came to him when he noticed a particular trait of yours. You had no special awareness when it came to him. Consistently, you were leaning into him quite closely, and when you two walked around during perimeter checks, you would often bump into him or brush your hand against his. Of course, you would apologize for your clumsiness, but deep down, you knew what was happening…Your body was burning for him, his warmth, his touch, and it was seeking it out in any way possible. It didn’t click so quickly for Zevlor until he saw you sparing, and there was no inclination of any clumsiness in your movements; even with others, he never saw you bump or run into anything; your movements were precise and calculated…and that’s when he figured it out you were touching him purposely. Zevlors first thought was, why? Then his second was how can he tell you to only ask him for his touch. Finally, one day, as you two were doing your usual perimeter check, you slowly inched closer and closer to him, seeking the slight relief of his touch. Still, as you went to bump into him for only a moment, you found the ex-hellrider wrapped his arms quickly around you keeping you to his warm chest. Eyes wide, you go to apologize, but Zevlor is quick to quiet your worries, “If you need my warmth…please don’t hesitate to ask me…” After that day, you got a hug from him every chance you could…

Zevlor enjoys the sweet intimacy of your relationship. At first, he was not used to someone wanting to hold him so closely and shower him with affection, but slowly, he is getting used to it and enjoying it immensely. Though, you still find ways to surprise him…For example, when you start paying particular attention to his cheeks and horns, you can’t stop wanting to hold his face so tenderly and whisper soft praises to him. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, Zevy…” he feels his heart melt at every whisper and every gentle touch to his skin. Then, if you happen to caress the base of his horns? Well…you have never heard such a deep pur.

It had been the first day in a long while that you and Zevlor spent most of the day apart. He had promised to speak to some recruits in the city, sharing his wisdom, and you had opted to stay at home. You were expecting him to come home at any minute, so you were working hard to prepare a surprise dinner for him. You missed him being home; usually, you would spend the day working in your small garden together and setting out laundry on the line together. It was lonely without him, so you planned to show him how much you missed him. As you were finishing your stew, you felt arms snaking around your waist. You gasped before his familiar voice eased you, “Be still, my dear, it’s only me…” Your body immediately relaxes as you turn to hug him back. “How was your trip?” Zevlor only hums as he buries his head into your neck. “I missed you…the road was lonely without you by my side…” you rub your hands up and down his arms as they hug you. Then you feel one of his arms part from you and hear the stove turn off; before you can ask anything else, you’re lifted and carried away toward your shared room. “Zev! What- What about Dinner?” “It can wait…I need to be close to you, just for a while…” The stew wasn’t eaten until much later…

“So beautiful…” his breath is warm as he whispers the complement into your neck. Zevlor’s lips caress your tender skin as he moves to your ear. You cling to his broad shoulders tighten, and your legs squeeze his textured hips. “You’re taking me so well. I’m proud of you.” The moan is involuntary as you feel him push deeper, his lips catching and nipping on your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to pierce, but his tongue soothing you so softly. Moving from your ear, you almost let out a whine before he blows a teasing breath on your neck, causing you to squirm and keen at the tickleing sensation. Zevlor’s fiery eyes look down at you, and that soft smile never fails to melt your core. He leans in, lips hovering over yours, his hands softly gliding down your waist, “I love you…” The vow is then sealed with a kiss.

Wyll

Wyll hadn’t thought of you as touched starved until you had to tell him flat-out. To his credit, you didn’t make it easy for him to figure out. When Wyll thinks of the term touched starved, he thinks of someone like him. Someone always willing to give out a hug or a friendly pat on the back; if you’re touched starved and in the proximity of Wyll, you were not touched starved for long. Hells, Wyll would risk the burns of hugging Karlach if she so requested. You, on the other hand, would never seem to be receptive to his friendly gestures, having grown up in a home with little affection and living on the brutal road for a while with a pleasant touch would always be a shock to your system. Especially from Wyll, it was like lightning shooting through your body with a new surge of energy you didn’t know what to do with, so you would tense up. After feeling you clamp up, Wyll simply thought you didn’t like to be touched, so ever the gentleman, he stopped. But that only made you begin to grave him…Finally, after days of seeing him touch and hug your other friends, you felt yourself going to pop. In a spur of the moment, you walked into his tent, staring at his confused features; timidness threatened to take you over, so with shaking limbs, you held your arms open with a shaky beg of “Please…” Wyll’s smile would grow so wide as he embraced you. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” “I…I like it when you do it…I crave your embrace…” Wyll will never make you ask please for a hug again…but other things, he might…

You couldn’t explain exactly why you love it so much, but you find you’re running your hands up and down Wylls strong back every time you get the chance. Maybe it was from seeing all its glory when he returned from the river or in the early mornings when he woke up for training. There’s just something about his broad shoulders that lean down to his narrow waist that makes your hands twitch to touch him. Wyll, of course, isn’t oblivious to how you take him in; that might be why he walks around without a shirt more often. His favorite part about liking his back is when you rest your head between his shoulder blades and hold onto him tightly. It never fails to put a smile on both your faces.

Between the two of you, you’re the one who is always slow to wake. On a typical day, you usually wake up to an empty left side of the bed, but this morning is different. You wake up to your body being held by what looks like a sleeping Wyll. Your first instinct is to worry and check him for a fever, but you find that he feels normal, and when he wakes, he greets you with a lazy smirk. “Are you okay, Wyll? You’re usually up by now?” Wyll hums softly as his eyes lazily roam over your form, “I woke up earlier but found that I couldn’t part from you…” His sweet words always make you blush, and you go to say you're sorry out of habit, but you’re silenced by him gently stroking your cheek. “Well, How about I make breakfast for us? We could eat together.” As you rise, you are quickly grabbed and trapped within his arms, his lips attacking your neck in a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. “You’re not going anywhere…I am not done with you yet…”

It’s always so slow, his hands sliding up and down your spread legs while your sex grows more and more aroused. One part of you wants to beg him to stop teasing you, but you both know that the loving pass of his hands on your skin is what you crave. Wyll keeps his eyes on yours as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The attention he gives you makes your mind hazy and your sex quiver in a way that only he causes. A moment of weakness causes you to moan his name. He will look down at your flushed face and smile against your skin before finally sliding his tongue on the spot you need him the most.

Rolan

Rolan is very familiar with the term being touched starved, and from being accused of it by Cal and Lia relentlessly, he was aware of the traits. Not that he thought he ever showed these. Then came you, and it was the end of him being touched starved. Rolan, at first, didn’t understand why every time you were near, your hand would absentmindedly rub in between his shoulder blades or how when you would go out to the tavern, you would sit so close to him, and it wasn’t as if you were unaware of this. No, from how you would look at his curious gaze with a smirk and a sparkle in your eyes, he knew you were messing with him. Though despite this…you two kept hanging out. If anyone would ask you if you longed for touch, you would say you only wanted Rolans and you had no shame about it; you just wished one day he would indicate the touch for once. Finally, one night, Rolan invited you to the tower to do some reading, something you could do at home, but you wouldn’t dream of passing up a moment to be around him. You two had found yourselves on the chaste, sitting very closely, exchanging blushing looks over the edges of your books, and with every passing page, you two would find yourselves inching closer and closer. Then, as your thighs are pressed together, you feel a warmth wrapping around your ankle. Looking down, you see his tail wrapped around you loosely, unsurely. Rolan had finally taken the initiative, and you were beaming. “If it bothers you, I can-” But before he could finish his sentence, you wrapped his arm around you as you curled into him more. You could hear the rapid rushing of his heart, and you could feel how it matched your own. “It doesn’t bother me; I’ve just been wondering what’s been taking you so long…” The teasing only rewards you with a tighter hold.

You find every part of Rolan to be utterly perfect, from his beautiful horns to his freckled cheeks to his toes. But the one part of him you constantly find yourself playing with is his tail, swaying and twitching like it has a mind of its own. You love to sneak behind him and run your fingers over the ridged base. The shiver and low growl he gives out every time makes you want to tease and touch him more, your hands becoming clammy for it. Today, you’re reading and mindlessly playing with the sharp tip till, finally, he’s curling the tail around your forearm and pulling you closer for a hungry kiss. He says he is being driven mad by your relentless teasing; you can only smile back before whispering, “Then you shouldn’t keep rewarding me…”

Rolan tries not to let his neediness get the better of him…but some days, he can’t resist your pull on him. Every time he saw you today, his hands roamed over every curve, his nose in the crook of your neck, and he muttered things you couldn’t catch. The attention was well received as you loved his every touch, but when you parted from him to wash up for the night, the look on his face was utter devastation. “I will be quick, then all night I am yours.” Rolan tsked as he let you go, sitting down in his chair where he would wait for your return. You tried your best to hurry into the bath but were not quick enough. As you wet your hair to be ready for washing, you heard the door open and were greeted by the magnificent sight of Rolan in a small cloth wrapped around his waist. He motions for you to make room. He removes his towel and joins you in the bath. You are happy but utterly confused, and Rolan is quick to defend his actions as he gathers soap into his palm, “You took too long, so now I am here to help; now turn so I can wash your hair.” Without any protest, you turn and relish in the feeling of his clawed hands, washing and lathering the soap in your hair, taking the time to scratch your scalp as he cleans you gently. Maybe you should have him wash your hair every time? If you asked, Rolan would be happy, too.

It started as a pleasant surprise; while you two were working at Sundries, his tail kept brushing against your butt, and when you two would be out of view from prying eyes, his hand would gently caress your ass. These are simple hints of his wants; you are always eager for his touch. Now here you are, pressed against the back wall with Rolan's needy hands grabbing tight handfuls of your butt. Pants are quickly discarded, and he gives you a quick slap to the soft exposed flesh for being such a naughty distraction. You keen and arch, grinding your ass against his burning erection. A deep moan when his nails dig into your flesh as he starts to rut into you deeply. Panting breaths, intertwined limbs, sweaty bodies desperately rocking against each other. It’s the night you learned that the Great Master Rolan is an ass man.

Gale

You never thought of yourself as touched starved; sure, you had points when you thought of being held or holding someone, but it was never something you would say you were starving for; well, that was until Gale. It was an accident when it happened; you two had offered to go to the morning market to gather supplies for dinner. The morning market was incredibly crowded, and you two kept getting separated. Gale, always the quick thinker, came up with the best solution. As he walked in front of you like a shield, he grabbed your hand and led you through. The gesture immediately stirred something within you, and as you walked hand in hand, looking at the back of him, you found yourself tightening your grip. During the rest of your time at the market, you two held each other’s hands. It wasn’t until you two returned to camp that you realized you held hands the whole way back. After that day, you reached out for his hand more often. Gale, of course, didn’t seem to mind. He liked the extra company, but getting you to let go so he could cut vegetables was challenging. After a while, you will find yourself craving more touches from Gale. So late one night, you crawled into his tent; when you woke him, he was initially surprised, asking you what you needed. “I…I think I’m touched starved…could…you hold me for a bit?” Gale’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, but he eagerly invites you into his arms, delighted to share in cuddles and maybe a few kisses.

It should be no surprise your favorite place to touch Gale is his hands. They are perfectly soft and fit perfectly within yours. You find that your hands are interlocked together if you’re by him. Gale finds your need to hold him in some way lovely and ultimately endearing. Gale’s favorite times when you hold his hands is when you are fast asleep curled up with him in his bedroll, your hands interlaced with his. He doesn’t dare move them because he knows you will only start seeking them again in your sleep.

You’re used to holding Gale’s hand, but on days he’s feeling needy, you find that his hands tend to roam. Today had been one of those days; his hands had started lazily, moving up and down your arms, gently grazing you all morning so tenderly. By the afternoon, his hands had found their way to run up and down your back, moving so slowly to send shivers through your body successfully. Then, in the Evening, they moved to trace your sides as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. Finally, you asked if he was well, his lips smiling against your skin. “Perfectly fine…just being needy for you…does it bother you?” you feel your skin flush, and your lips curl to an excited smile. “No, I like the attention from you…” Gale is always ready to shower you with attention; you just need to ask…

The man didn’t lie when he told you he had a practiced tongue, and tonight, you are finding that out firsthand. You felt needy when you crawled into his tent; it was late, and he was surprisingly awake. At first, it was innocent, simple hand holding a kiss or two like other nights before to satisfy your need, but tonight, you’re finding your aching for more, and Gale knows this. All you need to do is ask…Your hands grip tightly to the blankets as his tongue works against you. Gales focuses as his hands grip your thighs, and he sucks and licks more. He’s desperate to taste your release all over his tongue, and with him always being so good to you, who are you to deny him?

Astarion

With all he had been through, the feeling of being touched had become unstimulating. Astartion had felt every kind of touch possible. Well, at least that’s what he thought, until you. The energy between you two had been electric from the first moment; you were brilliant, and his usual charms didn’t make you bend like they did others. In fact, for all his teasing, you would give back your own. It was like a game between you two, and it only made you crave each other more. Then it hit its peak…You were admittedly getting lost in his words as he spoke to you, but it was different; it was genuine, and you had never felt so close to others. So when you gently brushed back his hair as he talked, you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise. Your weakness shocked you, and Astarion was surprised by someone touching him so gently, as if he were made of glass. Going to take back your hand, it’s quickly caught by his, and gentle lips pressing to your palm sets your skin ablaze. The kiss was as soft as your touch, but Astarion can never pass up an opportunity… “Couldn’t help yourself anymore, hm?” You would accept defeat this once…

Astarion has never been a fan of cuddling…well, not until he met you. And what did you do to make him change his mind on the slow and intimate activity? Astarion loves the way your fingers brush slowly and carefully through his hair. He finds he has gradually become needy for that soft, gentle touch. On the other hand, you love the feeling of his soft locks slipping through your fingers; actually, there are many things you can adore about Astarion; you find the soft touch of brushing through his hair always seems to relax you. You could spend all night with him in your arms like this…and you do.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination, but Astarion seemed grumpy today. You had tried to joke around with him and even participate in some teasing and flirting, but he wasn’t receptive. Thinking it best to just drop it, you left him alone for the rest of the day, going about your usual task. Then Evening rolled around; you were getting ready for bed when you heard a throat clearing outside your tent. Poking your head out, you saw Astarion looking…bashful? “Do you mind…if I slept here…with you…I’ve…been feeling off…” One part of you wanted him to explain; he had ignored you, and now he wants to sleep in your tent with you? And wait, elves don’t sleep? But something about the look in his red eyes…he seemed…lonely…Gently, you reach your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt and pull him in softly. The rest of the night was spent with you sleeping with your head in his lap as he read to your sleeping form. Being around you made him feel so much better; it was as he thought…he was starting to rely on you, and for once, the thought of depending on another didn’t scare him.

Sometimes, you can not decide who is needer between the two of you. Of course, you two tease each other about it, but Astarion is always the better tease. You’re rolling your eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as he moves his tongue across your chest, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every feathery touch. You try to keep your moans in, but it’s useless; “You make such pretty sounds, darling, keep it up.” His cold hands move between caressing your chest and your skin to find your sensitive nipples. Red eyes look up at you, filled with mischief. Is he satisfied with just a taste? Or will he bite…

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mahiiimahiiii · 2 months

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Gale dekarios is the type of man to say "my compliments to the chef" after eating you out.

He is also the type of man to ask you to be quiet so he can eat his meal in peace, whilst eating you out sloppy style.

I am also most certain he would have cheesy jokes during sex. Which would honestly lighten the mood. I feel in my heart of hearts he's a very sweet and easy-going guy..

#bg3 #bg3 gale #baulders gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale of waterdeep #gale #gale dekarios #headcannon #bg3 headcanons

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 6 months

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Astarion: Gods below, what is Gale cooking this time? I can smell the disappointing odor of melancholy and nutmeg from here.

Gale: *From across the camp.* YOU AREN'T GOING TO EAT ANY OF IT, ANYWAY!

Lae'zel: His food does lack daring and confidence. Perhaps some spices could salvage it, but I am not optimistic.

Astarion: Well, what do you expect from a man whose diet consists of moldy trinkets and old boots.

Gale: *From across the camp.* YOU KNOW I DON'T ACTUALLY EAT THEM!

- - - -

BG3 Incorrect Quotes Masterlist.

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bloodycyrano · 3 months

Text

Little things I think team tadpole would do for one another.

Part 1.

I think Durge/Tav and Wyll would be willing to read karlachs favorite childhood stories to her, since I don't think she could really pick up and read books- being flammable and all.

Astarion would use his sewing skills to stitch up Clive- And maybe make a few more little stuffed animal friends for Karlach.

I also think Astarion would pull Durge/Tav aside when he noticed them getting stressed out and forcibly talk them through some self care.- Astarion is the king of passive aggressive pep talks.

Gale would definitely try to help Wyll try to figure out how to turn back to the way he was before Mizora turned him into a devil.

Tav hosts group therapy sessions every Sunday, prove me wrong.

Wyll has done a lot of research on vanquishing vampire lords, and has probably made up a complete vampire slaying kit simply labeled "Cazador"

Lae'zel does nice things for people all the time, it's just that nobody realizes it. She's carrying most of your weapons, you don't think she's the one who sharpens them? She does. Without being told to, without asking for praise. Sometimes, she'll go back to the traders after dark because she realizes Durge/Tav hit random on camp supplies again, and Gale has nothing to work with.

Everyone knows Gale takes care of most of the cooking at camp, but I don't think anyone realizes he has a list of everyone's food allergies clipped in the back of his spell book, and even makes potion modifications depending on how his companions react to certain ingredients.

I also feel like Halsin started experimenting with herbology after finding out that Durge is afraid to go to sleep because they don't want to hurt anyone in camp, and ended up making them a sort of sleeping tincture to help their Bhaal-induced sleepwalking.

This one will maybe be a little less popular, but I headcannon Tav/Durge to be autistic, largely because I'm autistic, and I could definitely see Shadowheart making little cards for them with like "Yes", "No", "Angry", "Sad", "Overstimulated", etc. So that they could still communicate while having a meltdown.- Bonus points, they start learning sign language together if they have really high approval.

Wyll made some flashcards to help Lae'zel understand some of the norms, pronunciations, and overall weirdness of Faerun.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge #gale dekarios #lae'zel #baldurs gate tav #shadowheart #karlach #wyll ravengard #halsin #team tadpole #headcannons

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thecampjuicebox · 4 months

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I always wondered how the romanced companions would react if Orin kidnapped the player character. Any thoughts?

Be prepared for some angst because PHEEEEWWWWW

Astarion

At this point in the story, romanced Astarion and Tav are very close. He even states that Tav is the only person he's ever cared for, so I can imagine he'd be devastated if his beloved was taken by Orin. He'd take a relatively unhinged approach to saving them, running in with fangs bared. Daggers swinging. He'd make quick work of Orin, slicing and dicing to save his love. They've always done so much to save him so he'd feel it was his duty to do the same in this instance. Once he's able to hold them in his arms again, he'd allow himself to cry. Sob, even. He'd hold them close, smooth their hair back, bury his face in their neck to deeply inhale their familiar scent, but not until telling them how stupid they were for allowing themselves to be kidnapped by the shape-changer in the first place.

Karlach

Tav is Karlach's first taste of intimate touch in YEARS. Her first taste of love for as long as she can remember. When she finds out Tav is the one taken by the shape-changer, it would break her. Shatter her into a million burning pieces. Her engine would run hotter than the searing fires of Avernus. She'd yell and spit and grab the nearest bludgeoning object she could to absolutely decimate Orin where she stands. The pale eyed woman has caused enough problems and with Karlach's already crushed morale after seeing Gortash again, she'd go absolutely ape shit. She'd fall to her knees in front of Tav. Hug their legs. Cry as she rubs her nose across their thighs. Cling to them like a child. "Don't ever leave me again, Soldier. I can't bear it."

Wyll

First and foremost Wyll, I think, would be the most level headed in this situation. He'd quickly devise a plan to save his love. The Blade of Frontiers or the Blade of Avernus, either way, he'll prove his heroism and his devotion to Tav. No one lays a finger on his prince/princess. Their Devil in shining armor. He'd make an entrance similar to when Tav first encounters him in the Emerald Grove. Bold and brave, ready to dominate the fight. And once Tav is assured safe, he'd sweet them off of their feet. Shower them in love and praise of their bravery during this traumatic event.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is very reserved and quiet about her feelings and thoughts. If her love was taken by Orin, I think she'd play calm about it while absolutely losing it inside. She's mentioned previously that she isn't one for romances, more just short lived flings. With Tav, however. It's incredibly different. She'd rally the other companions and rush into Bhaal's temple to find Orin. Slay here right there. And then take Tav into her arms and check them other, make sure the shape-changer caused them no serious harm. If she had, Shadowheart would heal them. Make them feel safe once more.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel's love of Tav goes from 0-100 real quick, and hearing that Tav was taken by an enemy, I think she'd LOSE it. Lae'Zel has not known love like her love for Tav. Tav showed her freedom and no one is going to take that away from her now. She's not known to show very intense emotions, but I think she would let herself cry this time. Lae'Zel is trained in combat so taking Orin down would not be a difficult feat with the help of the other companions. Once Tav is safe, she'd embrace them with all of her strength. Hold them close to her as she mumbles softly in their ear "Zhak vo'nfynh duj. Source of my joy."

Gale

Gale is such a soft lover. His prior relationship with Mystra caused a lot of trauma and I think his romance with Tav is his key to being happy again. With himself and in general. Even the threat of having to blow himself up is softened by Tav's presence. "One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart." Once he learns that Tav was taken, I know for a fact he'd go into bad bitch mode. He'd storm his little wizard self right into Bhaal's temple and fireball the hells out of Orin before she could get a word in edgewise. Where'd all this courage come from? The lovely idea that after all of this is over and Tav is safe, they can return to the illusory scene of his tower in Waterdeep and reside there whenever the feeling arises. Not without a lecture on why it wasn't the smartest idea to get kidnapped, though.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcannons #companion headcannons #gale dekarios #karlach #astarion #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel

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theladyismyshepard · 3 months

Text

It Ain't Easy Being Green

(How you respond to jealousy)

Shadowheart –

Something awful and uncomfortable gnawed at your gut as you stared up into the endless sea of stars hanging above. Your brow was so creased that you could nearly see your own browline from your peripheral. Your teeth were clenched as you scowled at nothing but your own thoughts. You were being childish, you knew this, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to correct your mood– not when shared laughter out of your line of sight soured your tongue and churned your stomach. You would not think to ruin the merriment by turning into a fuming jackass or becoming physically ill at how close Shadowheart and Karlach were becoming – and fast.

It was hard to believe that your little group of oddities had only been traveling together for not even a full week. Sharing a common trauma bonded people quicker than usual circumstances, and emotions were rawer, prompting people to either shut off completely or open up. Shadowheart was a closed book, one that came with a lock and key, and while the tadpole in your head had been at the forefront of your mind, you also managed to find enough headspace to reserve entirely for the cleric and what might bring a smile to her face. And if you’ve taken to walking a little closer to Shadowheart during your travels? Well, you try to convince yourself that that was no one’s business but your own, but the arch of Shadowheart’s brow and shrug still had you blushing.

Back at the grove, there had been a gaggle of refugee children swarmed just past the merchant, Arron. They had been equipped with wooden swords and placed before training dummies and told to learn how to fight for their lives. It was a heart-wrenching sight, seeing their trembling frowns and unsure footing, and knowing that there was little chance of their survival out on the road to Baldur’s Gate. You were proving fruitless with Kahga, still needing to follow up on a lead, but you would make damn sure to not leave the tieflings with nothing.

You told Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae’zel to disperse for the time being before turning back to the group of kids and even young adults, clapping your hands once to get their attention. For the next few hours, you showed them common techniques and basic footwork, taking the time to charge a dummy with a cleaving attack and demanding the group mirror it, correcting here and there. By the time the sun was beginning to dip to the treelines, your muscles were achy and sweat had dampened your brow. The tieflings were beaming up at you, weapons raised high above their heads as they screamed their accomplishment to the Heavens. They encircled you and were jumping up and down, they were urging you to follow along, and after a moment of consideration, you shrugged and started whooping and jumping in place, smiling at their resulting laughter and excitement.

Your eye just so happened to catch the eye of Shadowheart and you immediately froze. She was wearing an amused smile and her eyes were bright as you regained your composure enough to give a departing word of encouragement before wandering over to her.

“No need to stop on my account, by all means, do continue,” said Shadowheart, her voice thick with amusement and her eyes shining.

“Relishing too long in a victory can be dangerous, you know,”

“Whatever would you be in danger of, pray tell,”

“Of making an ass of yourself,” You muttered, still fighting back the heat scorching your face, and her laughter did nothing to help, nor the glittering of her eyes.

“I found it… rather cute,” hummed Shadowheart, her eyes looking you up and down before she shrugged and turned on her heel, leaving you a floundering mess.

Then you found Karlach. You were the first one to step between Wyll’s blade and Karlach (even though there was no need to, the poor, misguided man immediately acknowledged he was wrong), knowing that the group needed Karlach just as much as she needed the group. She had a sunny personality, spoke her mind, and had a body that even had your eyes subconsciously glancing up and down. She was funny, every word spoke with humor that pulled a laugh out of even Lae’zel, and best of all, she appreciated wine as much as the next weary traveler.

Which was where you found yourself now, sulking on your bedroll alone in your space by your tent. You had pulled your roll out just enough to see the stars. There was wild giggling and cackling laughter as Shadowheart and Karlach shared their spoils of pillaging the blighted town. The two agreed to split whatever wine they had managed to find, and you could hear them standing by their word. Shadowheart had refused to share with the rest of the party, and it made your skin crawl that the only one she allowed in was Karlach.

It wasn’t that you hated Karlach, far from it… It just gave you a headache that it wasn’t your shoulders that Shadowheart wanted to be thrown over. You had never heard Shadowheart speak so highly of you as she had about Karlach. You could barely get more than a couple sentences at a time from Shadowheart, and here Karlach was, pulling laugh after laugh from the woman you were crushing on. And there you were, pouting like a child… Such a contrast from this “hero” role that you keep insisting on filling. What was wrong wi-

“Hey soldier,” boomed a voice that startled you from your reverie, and you found Karlach’s wide smile obscuring your view of the stars, “I knew you weren’t asleep yet! Shadowheart was so worried that you were, but I said to myself, I said, “Karlach, Tav looks too tense to be asleep,” and here you are, wide awake! I knew it.”

“Er…” You trailed off as Shadowheart approached your bedroll just as Karlach did, and she was holding something behind her back.

“Tav…” Shadowheart cleared her throat, her cheeks pink and you were convinced it was from the wine she was consuming. “I was wondering-”

“Welp!” announced Karlach, her arms stretching above her head, her spine arching, and her eyes were closed as she relished in the stretch so she missed the mild glare from Shadowheart. “I’m gonna head to bed now,”

Your eyes were darting back and forth from Shadowheart to Karlach, unsure of what was going on, and the earlier bitterness on the back of your tongue had now vanished, leaving a blazing hope that you weren’t as cast aside as you initially feared. Shadowheart sighed, staring off at nothing while shaking her head before her eyes cut back to meet yours. She offered you a smile before she brought her arms out from behind her back and your attention cut to the wine bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“You’ve been working so hard to help people… to keep hope alive even when the rest of us couldn’t be bothered with it… I think you deserve a drink more than anyone else.”

Your heart fluttered so violently that you were afraid it would either combust or break free from the hold of your rib cage. The toe of her shoe was nervously shuffling the dirt at her feet, a foot from your head, and she looked so beautiful cast in shadows. Her mysterious edge drew you in from the get-go and her obvious reluctance to reveal anything about herself did little to deter you. There was still much to be learned about Shadowheart, her desires, her goals, there were still looks that would flicker across her eyes that you had to familiarize, but in that moment, underneath the stars that reflected off the glasses in her hand, you were more than happy to take it one step at a time.

Lae'zel –

Resignation tasted of ash in your mouth as the final battle with the Netherbrain came to a resonating end as the thrall of its influence silenced once and for all. You felt the initial rush of victory, your emotion too much to contain within your body and without thinking, you pulled Lae’zel into a bruising kiss to seal your success. One hand was still clutching her silver sword, refusing to let it fall to the ground, but the other reached up to tangle her fingers in your hair, keeping you close.

You wanted to live in that moment forever, to capture the contentment and relief you felt and never let it go because you knew deep down that life would continue and it would bring with it new trials that would scar. It wasn’t long before the moment passed and you were spiraling in your own head, filled with thoughts of a future you were almost uncertain you would get to have and whether or not Lae’zel planned on fitting herself into it.

From the moment you met the githyanki, her goals were straightforward: she would do anything and everything she could to purify herself of the parasite and get back to her people to fight another battle across the stars. You’ll always remember the feel of her sharp blade pointed threateningly against the column of your throat when she spotted you first upon the nautiloid, and even more so the flicker of her life across your mind once you two learned of the connection that came with the tadpole. She was born a fighter and your stomach churned when thinking of the tribulations that not only she, but her people had to grow up through.

Lae’zel wore her childhood with pride, and would scold you anytime she felt your sorrow or concern for it. If she was given the chance to do it all again she would, so your pity wasn’t wanted. No matter how many times you tried to convince her it wasn’t pity, it was compassion, she wouldn’t hear of it. Lae’zel was as stubborn as she was strong, and the more you traveled with her, you found that rather than animosity growing between the two of you, you grew comfortable with her presence by your side. You were assured victory of any battle commenced because you knew you had Lae’zel in your party.

What surprised you was the sudden pit in your stomach when the secrecy and distrust shrouding Kith’rak Voss was unraveled and Lae’zel was soon hanging onto his every word in planning to free Orpheus, the Prince of the Comet who would help free their people from Vlaakith’s rule. There were stars in her eyes upon so many promises made, and you practically saw the rift forming between you two rather than just felt it. There was a permanent lump in your throat that you refused to let show as you fought your way down the bloody path that led to Orpheus’ freedom.

Lae’zel earned the ultimate victory and the greatest satisfaction, and her people deserved to have the veil lifted from their eyes. You two were from different worlds, you could not fully comprehend the struggles of her life just as she could not fully comprehend the disturbances of yours… but that mattered not you. Not when there were so many similarities to counter that argument with, like the glaring observation that she was a living being with hopes and dreams just as you were. And you couldn’t fault her hopes and dreams leading her across the universe and back to her own life.

That didn’t stop your frown from scrunching your face when Lae’zel broke the celebratory kiss to turn back to Orpheus with a look of complete adoration that you yourself would’ve reserved just for her. Childish, you’re acting like a fucking baby! No amount of pep talks would fight the jealousy back and your fisted knuckles couldn’t strain any whiter even if the bone were to rip out itself. Your chest was burning because you knew that in the end, Lae’zel would always choose the githyanki over you, and you could never bring yourself to ask her to reconsider. Especially since she had fought with all her might to save your world with you… Why couldn’t you do the same for her?

“My people are leaving… And I must go with them,” said Orpheus, his neck craned up towards the sky as he watched swarm after swarm of red dragons soar across the sky, casting shadows beneath, before screeching forth purple portals that they traversed and disappeared through, “Come, Lae’zel. We will free the githyanki and dismantle the empire. Let them be imprisoned no longer!”

“Your duty is to your people, Lae’zel. Go with Orpheus, and lead them to freedom,” You could hear it was your own voice, but your tongue felt numb and lackluster in your mouth, and she was suddenly looking at you with a new fire in her eye.

“It will be done. I will never be free while my people are still bound by Vlaakith’s chains.”

You couldn’t help the rush of offense you felt at being easily cast aside when she turned back to Orpheus and watched on in fascination as his two dragons, Quulos and Quuthos, responded to his call. Orpheus didn’t hesitate to mount Quulos, his hands grabbing the reins before watching Lae’zel expectantly. She approached Quuthos and hesitated as she turned back to look at you, and you knew instantly that that moment had the potential to be the very last if you were foolish enough to let it.

“You called me Mla’ghir…” You called, taking a few steps forward to ensure she could hear you and wouldn’t leave you behind. “Your people aren’t liberated yet… Allow me to follow and continue aiding you… please,”

Orpheus proved impressed by your bold request, but you were more interested with Lae’zel’s reaction. She wasn’t able to conceal her gasp at your words, and she made no move to hide the tears swelling in her eyes. Her mouth was trying in vain to find something to say, but she was always more of a woman of action, and what better way of expressing herself than by grabbing ahold of the front plating of your armor, and bringing you back into a searing kiss that refused to end, even when Orpheus gave a polite cough.

“Let us ride… together into eternity,”

Minthara –

Your teeth clenched tightly as you battled against your agitation. Your eye twitched as you felt your rationality slipping. You repeatedly told yourself that your anger was justified and that you were in no way envious of the brazen display on the other side of camp.

Wyll, whose tent was adjacent to Mizora’s, had a dumbfounded look on his face as your eyes met before he pointed questioningly at himself. You rolled your eyes and shook your head no, in fact, you were staring at his left where Minthara was seated comfortably next to Mizora. There were nothing but devious looks shared between the two as they whispered amongst themselves. The sly smirks did nothing to ease your mood, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were leaning closer together now than when Minthara had first ventured over to the devil’s tent.

The part that made you sick to your stomach was that you could understand just how the two could get closer than the rest of the party. Minthara possessed a thirst for power; Not just over the world, but over you as well. Her wicked laughter never failed to echo behind the misery of the unfortunate souls who had crossed your path, and after a while, you stopped chastising her for it. You wouldn’t admit to her or yourself that it was because her evil chuckle started sending shivers down your spine.

Minthara originally wasn’t too keen on joining your party after you stormed the inner walls of the Goblin Camp, slaughtering Priestess Gut and Dror Ragzlin. You could still feel the cold steel of her blade piercing through your armor before tearing through the flesh of your shoulder even as you gazed upon her now. Minthara proved to be a powerful adversary against your already battle-worn frame, but you could still remember the way she stumbled before her body crashed to the ground. Her chest continued to rise and fall as her lungs forced the air in and out, and you could end it right there… You should…

But you saw something more than desperation shining in her eyes. You saw the fresh tears of fright as she knew deep down that she failed. Deep down she was afraid that if it weren’t to be your blade that cut her down, it would be the one ruling the entire show. Her bottom lip trembled even as she barked orders and cleaved her weapon through the air. Minthara was lashing out like a caged animal, her imposing composure long slipped away, and once Karlach had given the final concussive blow to her head with a warhammer, her wide, frantic eyes finally rolled back.

Even Gale had his magic crackling at his fingertips, ready to give the killing blow if need be, but you placated the party. As you spared her one last look, you couldn’t help but to ponder that she looked a lot smaller and frailer than before. You cursed your heart for constricting at the sight, and ignored the nagging feeling eating away at you with every step you took. She was surrounded by dead comrades, and Astarion looted her weapons and anything of use… Minthara had nothing left and you suspected she had more to fear than just you.

You always felt a rush when you were proven right, and you certainly felt a rush of something when you passed through the Absolute’s Door of Moonrise Towers and stumbled upon the scene of Minthara conscious and swallowed up in oversized clothing that you knew (with a twinge to your heart) she had to scavenge around for. Your eyes cut to Astarion’s body, which was draped in her former armor and you weren’t entirely sure if their relationship would be immediately soured, or soundly built on a foundation of mutual respect. She also wore a look of pure humiliation even as she fought to defend herself, and then Ketheric’s mouth pulled back into a smile so deformed that it could have doubled as a snarl as he gave Z’rell the order to be creative with the Nightwarden’s death.

You knew she had someone higher to answer to… What you weren’t aware of was that it was Ketheric Thorm, in all his cruelness. You felt the varying looks of your party as you made your presence known to the Chosen. You felt the need to speak of her absolute loyalty and how she never swayed, just as you felt the need to descend the stairs to the dungeons below and fight the guards for her freedom. There was a deep appreciation she held for you once the artefact connected her mind with yours and the rest of the party’s, and you felt it just as if it were your own warmth spreading through your chest.

You even found yourself grinning when Minthara then moved to tangle her fingers into the base of Astarion’s ivory locks before tugging his head until his face was mere inches from her own. She had demanded her armor back and the trek back to camp was an interesting one consisting of an also newly-recruited Halsin’s confused glances at Astarion, who was striding confidently in all his half-nudeness. You were soon noticing that when you saved someone’s life, they felt the urge to join your party, and you weren’t complaining when your company looked as great as they did, and even proved useful.

Just because you saved her life didn’t mean her snarky attitude was suddenly displaced and her enjoyment of malicious proclivities was tamed, and for some reason unknown to even you, you found that you wouldn’t have it any other way. She disapproved of your helpful habit of sticking your nose into others’ business and solving their problems for them, but she wouldn’t have you any other way… or so you liked to think.

As your eyes continued to burn holes into Mizora, you didn’t even have enough time to glance away and play cool before Minthara’s eyes cut over to you, her brow arching and her smirk slow-building. You flushed and stared down at your feet, your self-criticism roaring displeasure into your brain. You could practically taste your own bitterness and it wasn’t good at all. You heard of the… nefarious offerings that Mizora had to offer those she deemed worthy of her sexual prowess, and who else would be worthy than the Nightwarden?

“Something the matter, darling?” said Minthara, suddenly standing before you, her smirk very audible, and it only widened into a grin when your neck snapped at attention. “You’ve been watching me for some time now,”

“I was looking at Mizora,” You insisted before grimacing, and her resulting chuckle warmed your face yet again. “I mean-”

“Ah, ah, I’ve caught you, little bird… You were jealous,” Minthara drawled, almost predatorily, and she was soon backing you into your tent, each step slow and methodical. “You looked about ready to claim me.”

“I-”

“Take me then,” commanded Minthara, and when your brain short-circuited, she grabbed your arms and wound them around her shoulders, “If you are bold enough to make me yours, you better be ready for when I make you mine,”

She punctuated the suggestive remark with a nip to the flesh where your neck and shoulder meet, and before your eyes fluttered shut, you caught sight of Mizora grinning wickedly as she watched on.

Gale –

You would never forget the moment Gale opened your mind to the weave and helped you embrace the charged magical aura. It was after saving the Druid camp, and you couldn’t ignore the gleam of approval clear in his eye. The entire camp along with the grove celebrated their victory that night when you approached Gale. Many attempted to stop and talk to you, but at the moment, you only had eyes for the wizard and the way he was smiling softly.

Before that night, you never even thought yourself capable of wielding magic, but he was a great teacher. Gale knew exactly how to set a mood, and you imagined yourself leaning into him and savoring the moment, enjoying the tension of just almost grazing lips before he gently pushed forward and pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. He pulled back, almost startled himself, and became quite bashful the rest of the evening.

As your affection grew for him, your concern and worry for his condition deepened. You scoured the lands, looting where you could, and accepted all rewards for your assistance in hopes of finding more magical artefacts to help ease the chronic agony that threatened to nearly tear him apart from the inside. With time, it wasn’t enough to satiate the deeply rooted hunger, and Gale realized he wasn’t responding to the magical essence as he once was.

Your sweet Gale, he forced a smile all throughout the pain, even when it tightened the skin around his eyes and mouth with the strain. He had previously shared his fearful insecurity that he was a burden weighed heavily upon you and the group when it came to his addiction to magical artefacts. Even though you tried your best to soothe Gale and reassure him that you seek out the artefacts because you want to help him, that you refused to let him succumb to his chronic pain alone, you could see that he couldn’t bring himself to fully believe in your words. Even the glazed look of satisfaction in his eye after your night of lovemaking wasn’t enough to conceal the insecurity.

Everything came to a halt when the old man Elminster appeared before Gale with a message from Mystra, practically demanding he detonate the malevolent magical orb in his chest in a suicidal act against the Absolute. The goddess suggested it was a means of atonement for what he had done. You argued vehemently on his behalf, and you couldn’t help but to notice that he wasn’t fighting at all. He accepted her word immediately and you couldn’t help but to falter. He wouldn’t look you in the eye at first, but you knew he was processing all of the options before him.

Elminster came with his threatening message, but he also came with a merciful gift. He produced an enchantment on Gale to help ease the task– one that stabilized the orb within his chest, negating the need to consume more magical items. Gale’s shoulders had never looked so light as when he felt the incessant hunger pulling at him finally curbed. He could have dropped to his knees in relief, and you briefly wondered which god he would thank if he did. Would it be Mystra?

The petulant thought burst forth before you could really register it, and you felt selfish for thinking of yourself in a moment that Gale was waiting so long for. For so long, the wizard braced himself with a forced smile for your sake, and now, it was you who was grinning and bearing it for the sake of Gale’s health. You supported him through his mission of searching for The Annals of Karus and all the secrets it contained, and you stood by his side when Elminster appeared yet again with another message from Mystra.

Gale was a storm-wracked boat that was crashing against the rocky face of turmoil upon his former goddess’ request to meet her at her shrine. You were thoughtful enough to assume his inner struggle didn’t consist entirely of previous feelings and devotions to Mystra– His very soul was always a step away from being in question, and his life was a very complex puzzle that you kept at, even when it puzzled you, and you couldn’t act as though you could fully relate.

However, as Gale’s lover, you couldn’t help the small part of you that was fearful that he would slip back into his old mindset. You were afraid that he would happily kill himself just because Mystra asked it of him, leaving you behind to mourn his loss as his soul rested easily with her. With each time he looked to you, your smile grew more and more strained as you bit your tongue. Every time her name left his lips, your smile would twitch into a near-grimace before smoothing away entirely. Everything you did was slowly shifting in the direction of his sake… Everything he did seemed to be in the name of Mystra these days, and it weighed heavily on your chest.

Everything seemed one step away from breaking once the Netherbrain was weakened to the point of desperate bargaining. It spoke of even the most unspeakable of power it could grant using the Crown of Karus, and you could feel the call reaching home in the wizard beside you. Gale’s face was always expressive and you soon caught on to what he was thinking or feeling by a certain look that so much as flickered across his features. He turned to you imploringly, already seeking an answer before the question even formed in his mouth.

“This is our chance… Mystra-”

“Forget Mystra!” Even you were surprised by your outburst, but you’d be damned if you didn’t take the opportunity for what it was, “You don’t need to appease her, not anymore, my love,”

“I’m not-”

“I feel like I’m slowly losing you to her, like you’re wanting to go back to what you used to have once you give her the crown.” You admitted, and Gale instantly took you into his arms, holding you tight enough to leave no room for doubt between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about it, soldier, we got it from here, yeah?” called Karlach, waving her arm above her head dramatically even though she knew neither of your attention was on her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” He choked, his shame bleeding through your connection one last time. “I would never trade your love for what once was… She cursed me to die a horrific death and to bring with those around me. She hated me with a passion, and after what felt like an eternity of isolation, I felt as though I could slip away and let go at any moment… But in my time of basking in your love and adoration, I’ve come to realize it feels purer than even Mystra’s.”

You opened your mouth to cut in, to say something, but Gale was quick to beat you to the punch, silencing everything but a gasp with a promising kiss. It was one of apology, to make up for the insecurity he had put you through, but it was also a kiss that banished any doubt from your mind, and with one last quiver through your connection before the Netherbrain fell, you felt a sense of mutual peace and trust between the two of you.

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