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amandacanwrite · 3 months

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More Headcanons for the Gale Babes: Pining Edition

Tagging At Their Request: @eclecticqueennerd @jeneralmischief @thewizardhole

Tagging Because I Thought You May Want To Know I posted It: @lewdisescariot @ollypopwrites @rissi-chan @foreskinfinder87

Here are some headcanons about Gale behind the scenes as he pines for you/Tav (Goodnatured, Gender Neutral) Bear with some things that are just regular ole canon for a moment and then I will get into the headcanony stuff near the middle.

Upon Your First Meeting

"I'm Usually better at this." "At Introductions?" "Hah...At magic."

Safe to say that he was well aware of just HOW much trouble he was in very shortly after beginning to travel with you.

The words "Do NOT do this to yourself, you ridiculous, touch-starved man," may or may not have been said to the mirror...or to a mirror double of himself.

But godsdamnit, you just had to continue being...kind and courageous and well spoken and your eyes...and your lips and Focus--FOCUS GALE DEKARIOS

And hells, what a world it would be if he could stop putting his foot so squarely into his mouth.

"Gods, Gale. Really did a number with that thing you said, didn't you? They probably thing you're pompous--which you are--perhaps rightfully so, you are a very gifted wizard..."

He uh...talks to himself a lot. Old habit from the tower, you see. You only catch him doing it a couple of times though, and rarely hear what he said.

"Oh, just thinking out loud, you know!"

Once He's Gotten To Know You A Bit

"Go on, Gale. You're among Friends." "I may just be about to remedy that."

It's hard to pin point the exact moment he fell in love with you. But the realization was nothing short of devastating for him.

As a younger man, he may have been brought to tears reading a tragedy like his. Abandoned by a former lover, forsaken in a plight brought on by wishing to do her a grand gesture, falling for a simpler love...one he may never have because of the orb threatening to level a city in his chest.

Sometimes at night, he watches you asleep in your bedroll, wondering if he had met you as a young man...if he'd perchance seen you on the streets of Waterdeep or sitting at the bar in The Yawning Portal perhaps he'd never wound up in this position in the first place.

Perhaps he would have simply been chosen by Mystra, and not have fallen in love with her.

It feels wrong...even to think it. He wonders if Mystra can sense the betrayal in those thoughts--in the wish that he'd never fallen in love with her.

But it's hard not to feel that way when he has to spend every waking moment next to you.

And when he watches everyone else in camp seemingly falling over themselves to get to you as well.

He makes his peace with the fact that there is simply no way that he can compete with the pale elf who is constantly making eyes at you...calling you darling.

He remembers meeting people like that in school. He remembers burying himself in his studies to distract himself from the fact that he'd never felt particularly charming or even efficacious in matters of the heart.

Of course that all changed when Mystra chose him. Before he'd wooed her, he'd managed to have a few dalliances as a teen, even going into his early adulthood.

But you're the first he's ever wanted to have something with since Mystra had forsaken him.

He still carries the charm he'd cultivated. It's hard not to get at least a little full of yourself when the goddess of magic herself chooses you. Harder still to drop the habit after he'd committed to it, even while sequestered to his tower.

He'd been deep in thought on these matters when you checked in on him one night.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a wizard stewing on matters of the arcane and curious, I assure you."

When he finally has to reveal the truth of his affliction to you and the others in the party, he's devastated all over again. He's ready to once again be banished for his crimes, to be newly punished for his folly, however well intentioned he was in acquiring it.

But...you simply don't... It seems you never do what he expects because you hardly bat an eye. Even when Astarion tells you to kick him to the proverbial curb, you let him stay.

It's that night he conjures the image of Mystra in his hand, turning it this way and that to see if it still hurts to look upon her as it used to.

When you wander over to inquire about her visage, he is relieved to find it doesn't bother him to speak of her, and daunted by the ache in his chest that you seem to inspire in him.

He keeps trying to find a way to tell you how he feels, but he simply can't form the words without choking on them.

Until that night with the teiflings...and well...let's just be honest, the generously flowing alcohol.

He just wants to share a moment with you--a foolish idea to help you experience the weave using him as a conduit. A bit cheeky he realizes--knowing perhaps better than you might the sort of sensual, intimate nature that being connected through the weave can be. But he can't help it, it is the only relief he can find for this torturous pining. To be allowed to be of one mind with you for just a fleeting second is too tempting to refuse.

When You Imagine Sharing A Kiss With Him

"I'm sorry...I wasn't expecting...but it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

How can he convince himself that he won't immediately ruin this? Does he even remember how to kiss? God's it's been so long.

He lies in his tent, banging the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"You should have just kissed them, you damned fool. How long have you wanted this? And apparently they want it, too. And you were linked with the weave! What could have been more perfect? Why didn't you just kiss them, you blithering idiot."

When he doesn't kiss you for a while, you worry you may have made him uncomfortable with the thought. Really, he simply can't find the perfect time between all of the bloodshed and bandages.

He gets sloppy in battle, too worried that someone will take you way before he has a chance to make good on that dream you shared with him. Not the best course of action for a man who can literally implode in the event that he dies.

And then he had to go and say that stupid thing about danger and...other forms of stimulation.

"Perhaps," he tells himself one night. "Perhaps, Gale of Waterdeep, you will actually make a gesture more than a silly joke and a stammering admission of liking to kiss. Your actions so far have not hinted that you will, but perhaps there is hope for you yet."

In the end it's a night where you're near out of provisions that gives him the opportunity to close this blasted distance betwixt you.

He's having a melt down of sorts. About the lack of decent food in camp. How is he to feed all of you with nothing but a few half-eaten apples and a fish head?

You suggest a walk, not far from camp. You're sure you can scrounge up some berries, or some tubers--maybe even a squirrel or a rabbit. In truth, you're not sure you'll find anything, but you can sense that Gale needs time away. Needs privacy. Needs space to simply feel things without an audience.

After walking in silence for a while you ask him if he's alright.

"No. No I am categorically not alright. Not at all. I am filthy. I am covered in goblin blood. The orb refuses to be sated. I cannot find a way to properly feed you so that you'll have the strength to fight another day. And on top of it all--rounding out the depths of my misery--you so bravely showed me the intimacy you wanted to share, yet I cannot for the life of me figure out how to adequately stage that moment so that it is worthy of the splendor that you are."

It's hard not to be touched by his admission, but you don't want him to be miserable. So you make it easy for him. You simply stride up to him and plant a kiss on his lips.

"Is that better?" you ask him. "Now you needn't fret about the last thing."

His simply...gawks at you. Stares in utter befuddlement, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, you're certain you've broken the poor wizard. You almost have the urge to wave your hand in front of his face to see if his soul has left his body. Then he smears his hand down his face and groans

"NO," he says. "No it is not better. That is not a proper first kiss worthy of how I feel about you. I can do much better than a first kiss like that."

You remind him that that was technically your first kiss with him. He is welcome to show you how it is properly done.

You expect the slow burn with him--expect him to have to ponder that for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, before he makes good on it.

But he has had enough of waiting. He drops his bag off to the side and unstraps his bow from his back in a quick flurry of movement. He reaches for you, gently grasping the soft curves of your face and pulling you toward him, claiming your mouth with his own.

It is a frantic, desperate thing, this kiss. Simultaneously overwhelming and buoyant. You find yourself lifting up onto your toes and leaning against him as he tilts his head, seeking some opening to taste you, to feel you on his lips.

Your knees buckle, and his hands move from your face to catch you, crushing you against him as if he wishes to match every curve of you to every corresponding curve of his own body.

His lips are soft, though they are posessive. When you finally allow him across the threshold of your lips, he tastes like that fragment of weave you shared with him. He tastes of pure connection.

And then, just like that moment, it is over. You're left panting and weak as he holds you against his chest, his face flush, his brow gently curved with worry.

You blink dreamily up at him. "Oh." you say.

"'Oh?'" he asks incredulously. "Please tell me you have more to say than 'Oh.' Or at least specify the quality of that 'Oh.' Hells, if I'm to get any sleep at all--"

You simply lift your fingers to his lips, pressing the tips to quiet him. "Consider me properly schooled in how it's meant to be done," you say. "You're an excellent teacher."

He heaves a sigh. "Oh," he says. "I know."

I hope you enjoyed this! I'm sorry if it's not as satisfying since it's a lot of like...subtext for canon things. I have more Ideas but this is already quite long. Do let me know if you would still like to see more or if you have anything you'd like to see or expand on with an actual small fic. I have been having so much fun with these.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 gale #bg3 gale fanfic #bg3 gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale headcanons

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

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Choosing to Live

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Shortly after Gale decides to defy his goddess and not self-destruct in the caverns below Moonrise Towers, you turn and see him struggling with the conflicting emotional fallout of his decision. CW: death, suicidal ideation, panic attacks, survivor's guilt (implied), coercion (implied) A/N: I was inspired by @gangstagandalf's emotional fanart of Gale and Tav just after Moonrise. It's not quite the same scene as their art but I just couldn't resist writing my own angst version. Check them out, their art is lovely! @gangstagandalf I hope you don't mind if I borrowed a few of your lines from your original post! (Pic is of my tav Dani because that’s all I got) UPDATE: Now on AO3 woooo

You watch as the husk of Ketheric Thorm collapses at your feet, a hollow shell of dessicated flesh and heavy armor. You’ve done it at last—you’ve defeated the Bone Lord’s Chosen, the first of three enemies who have enslaved an Elder Brain through the power of some sort of crown it bears.

At the thought of the crown, you turn your head, seeking out the person who had first pointed out the crown to you. It was the thing that seemed to wake him from his reluctant obedience to his goddess’s command. There had been hunger in his eyes, more than you’d ever seen in him before, and for a brief moment you had thought yourself and him safe from the commands of the goddess of magic and mysteries.

But then he’d steeled himself. You’d watched as he physically and mentally struggled with the weight of the goddess’s demands, preparing himself for what he thought was inevitable.

Death. Destruction. Catastrophe. But one that would supposedly thwart mass enslavement at the whims of an elder brain and three evil Chosen. A noble sacrifice, but one that would kill dozens of innocent lives, too.

You don’t remember what all you said in those panicked seconds between him making his decision and you being dragged into a battle against Ketheric. You recall, vaguely, that you had clutched his robe in your hands and told him you loved him. There had been other words, too, but they were lost to your memory. Whatever it was, it had been enough. Because as of this moment, the elder brain has disappeared, Ketheric is dead, and you are not.

Your eyes find him, your love, your Gale, standing on a far platform where he had climbed to better aim and prepare his spells. He stands, leaning against his staff, panting, staring at the lifeless and inert body of Ketheric at your feet, and then his gaze shifts to you. You, covered in your blood and Ketheric’s black, fetid ichor, in bone dust and illithid matter. You probably look horrible, you think. You know you should bend down to examine Ketheric’s body and see what the glowing stone in his chest is all about, but you can’t look away from your love. Not now.

Not when you were so close to losing him to his goddess’s arbitrary and cold demand.

But you didn’t. He’s alive. He’s alive. The thought pumps outward from your heart, warm and reassuring like the blood rushing through your own veins, reminding you that you too are alive. Your only thoughts now are of closing the distance between the two of you and peppering his face with kisses, telling him how proud you are of him, how brave he’s been, how much you love him. But as you take a step toward his platform, a shift in him gives you pause.

He slowly kneels down, still leaning heavily on his staff, and for a moment you think he’s praying, in the same way Shadowheart kneels to pray to her goddess. But no, his eyes are wide, staring, unfixed, not closed and reverent. After a moment, he sits fully on the ground, his staff falling with a clatter against the surface of the platform, and he buries his face in his hands.

You go to him immediately, using a last rare scrap of magic to misty step directly onto his platform. He’s shaking with fine, shuddering tremors as you approach, your steps cautious and soft but your heart aching and yearning to rush over. You reach out a hand, your own fingers trembling as they hover suspended above him, and you whisper his name uncertainly.

“Gale?”

You hear his voice but his words are muffled by his hands. You bend closer, making out fragments as his words tumble forth in a soft, whispered babble.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” he gasps. “I nearly—I almost—I could have—the orb. What have I done—”

“Gale,” you say again, finally kneeling in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. He jolts at the touch, stiff and startled by you, but you don’t let it deter you. You squeeze his shoulder in what you hope is a reassuring touch, even as the tears threaten to choke you as you watch and feel him tremble. “It’s all right. We’re safe. My love, you’re safe.”

He lowers his hands, one clenching the fabric of his robe over his chest, his breaths coming shallow and quick. His gaze on you is so different than before, all the warmth and steadiness and gentle, shy uncertainty that came with looking at you replaced with abject horror and unfocused panic. You get the sense he isn’t really seeing you, but staring through you to some theoretical what-if nightmare. One where you didn’t make it out alive.

“I very nearly killed us all,” he mumbles, still clutching his chest. "I nearly killed you."

“But you didn’t—”

“I was so close to—to—th-the orb, I could feel it stirring, like it wanted me to—” He breaks off, his hand tightening in the fabric of his robe. The mark of the orb glows faintly, the barest hint of illuminated magic threading upward toward his eye, casting an orchid-purple sheen to his dark iris. He bends forward slightly, combing a hand roughly through his hair and clutching brown and gray strands tightly in his fist, his eyes wide. You half-expect him to be sick as he presses his other hand flat against his chest, breathing heavily. “And now I’ve defied my goddess. I—”

He turns suddenly, sharply, twisting to prop himself up on hands and knees away from you as his body rebels against him and he retches. Very little comes up—he hasn’t been eating well since you first stepped into Moonrise and he found himself faced with the very real possibility of sacrificing his life—but his body shudders and bucks violently as it attempts to dispel everything inside him. Not just the contents of his empty stomach but the fear and loathing and terror too.

You don’t shy away from him. You shift closer, sitting on your knees at his side as his body settles into little shivers, his hands pressed flat into the surface of the platform. Your eyes are burning with tears now and you want to sob, your heart shattering for this man, your love, your heart’s song, but you have to be strong for him. You smooth his hair from his face, fingers brushing against his sweat-slick skin, and you cradle his feverish cheek in your palm. You say the only words you know to say and you repeat them as many times as you have to before they break through the haze of his clouded mind and resonate within him.

“Shh. You’re safe, my love. I’m here. I’m here with you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, my love. You are safe.”

He leans into you and you gather him in your arms, rocking you both gently as he rests his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around one of your arms. His shoulder is awkwardly pressed into your chest and he’s half-curled into your lap, weighing your knees uncomfortably down into ground, but you don’t mind. Discomfort and awkwardness don’t matter. What matters is that he is alive and so are you. You remind him of that in words, in your stream of murmured comforts, along with all the rest.

It takes several long moments for his breathing to even out again, and another few for him to finally rest against you without an errant shiver wracking his body. But he calms at last. The tears on your face have since dried, but your heart aches no less than before. To think that your love would suffer so for making the right choice—the choice to live—but to suffer nonetheless out of a sense of guilt and fealty to a goddess that had thrown him aside like a broken toy.

It fills you with an uncommon rage. The gods are ever cruel, but the goddess of magic—you dare not even give her the honor of her name in your own thoughts—she is among the worst in your eyes. Even now, as your love struggles to compose himself, it isn’t a goddess’s arms or a goddess’s blessing that are there to comfort him.

The arms that are wrapped around him are your own. The comfort you have to offer is that of warm flesh and soft breath, mortal and precious. And it is better—better, you tell yourself with all the prideful conviction of a mortal soul—than anything an immortal, unfeeling goddess could offer.

He finally stirs, straightening up to look at you. Or look at your shoulder, rather, unable to meet your gaze. His expression is hollow, sorrowful, but calm. You know the road to him accepting and finding joy in his decision to defy his goddess is not yet over, and the path ahead may still be thorny.

But at least he has the chance to try and walk that path, rather than ending it all here.

"Forgive me," he says softly. He seems to want to say more, but the words don't come easily. You shake your head, not caring what he's trying to apologize for.

"There's nothing to forgive, my love. You made the right choice." You caress his cheek, wiping away the grime and the tear tracks that have collected there. “I love you, Gale.”

He finally meets your gaze and oh, your love, he looks so exhausted. But there is a flicker of his old self still there, a warmth that is familiar in his dark eyes. You press your forehead to his, still caressing his cheek, and close your eyes.

He’s alive. That’s all that matters. You can figure out the rest as you go.

“I love you, too,” he whispers.

You have to get out of here, out of this cavern of flesh and stone and brine. You have to face the problems of the world at large, the threat of the elder brain and more. You know that. But you steal a few more moments for yourself, breathing softly with Gale, treasuring every breath as though they were more precious than diamonds.

———

You set out to leave the shadow-cursed lands at what you think is dawn the next day. Even with the curse waning, it’s hard to tell the time with the sun still obscured. But the hope is that as the land fades away behind you, you’ll be walking forward into sunlight and not more night.

You and Gale walk at the back of your little group, your companions moving on ahead. With each step, the shadow curse lightens. There are hints and signs of new life all around, tiny green leaves fluttering against once-dead branches, thin shoots of grass poking upward from the cold, dry ground. It restores your hope for good things to come. Not just for these lands, but for you. For your love.

He’s been quiet since the fight against Ketheric. Contemplative. Thoughtful. You had spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, counting his every heartbeat and breath until you were pulled into slumber, suspecting that he had done the same for you. When you woke you both pretended that sleep had cured you of the previous day’s torments and used the task of breaking up the camp to travel onward as your distraction from your concerns. But you watched him across the camp anyway, a knot of worry in your stomach.

Sometimes, both this morning and in the moments traveling now, you see that hunger in his eyes as you did when he first saw the crown atop the elder brain. But sometimes you just see a lingering sorrow. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask him about it. Not yet. It’s enough that he’s here with you, and you trust him to speak to you about what weighs on his heart in his own time. But you still worry.

Just up ahead, the shadow curse seems to fizzle out entirely, like a fog that dissipates as the sun burns it away. Beyond the threshold is sun-warmed landscape. Though scarred by the smoldering and abandoned remains of the Absolute army’s campfires and shelters, nothing has ever looked so inviting to you before. You rush ahead, eager to feel the sun on your skin again.

The difference in temperature alone is enough to reassure you that the shadow curse is behind you at last. One second you are enveloped in the chill and dimness of the shadows, and the next you are warm and bright in the light of the sun. You pause just a few steps into the sunlight, stretching out your arms and lifting your face toward the sky, drinking in the warmth. At last. You feel as though you can breathe freely again.

You turn to smile at Gale, but he is not at your side. He lingers in the shadows, watching you. The shadow curse is like a sheer black veil between you, obscuring his expression slightly, but as you step closer you realize his eyes are glimmering with unshed tears.

“Gale?”

He blinks, as if awakening from the depths of his thoughts, and quickly rubs his eyes. “Ah…my apologies. Lost in thought, I suppose.”

You hesitate to leave the warmth of the sun, but you sense this is more important than sunlight. You step onto the threshold of the curse, reaching out a hand to him. You want to pull him out of the shadows and into the light with you. He stares at your hand a moment before taking it, but he doesn’t move. Like he isn’t ready yet.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, my love,” you say gently. “Tell me how I can help.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but for the first time, words seem to utterly fail him. He swallows, gazing at you with a stricken expression, and tightens his hold on your hand.

“It’s simply…I am…in awe,” he says at last. “Of you. And I am mortified with myself. No, more than mortified. I nearly…”

You sense the flow of his thoughts instantly, your minds connecting via the tadpole, his thoughts unconsciously opening up to you. At first he resists, his mind shutting down like a trap to spare you, but then the shields waver and fall away, and you are pulled into his memories. You feel the struggle within him as he stares at the elder brain. You feel the heat and pain of the orb inside, as if reminding him of his purpose. You see yourself through his gaze, the fear and love warring in your expression as you beg him not to go through with his sacrifice. You feel the moment he makes his decision, his resolve hardening like steel in flame, only to shatter, brittle and broken, the moment the brain disappears, the pieces transforming into needles of doubt that bury themselves in his psyche, his heart, his body.

As the familiar, terrifying sight of the colossal avatar of Myrkul rises into your vision once more, for one fleeting moment, you sense the desperate desire to end it all now, to end the storm of uncertainty in your mind, the pain of the orb, the fear of disobedience, the exhaustion of facing another battle with impossible odds. For one fleeting moment, you consider letting go and letting the orb obliterate you and everything around you.

And then the connection ends, and you are left standing at the threshold of the shadows with Gale’s hand in yours.

“I nearly killed us all with one rash thought,” he murmurs quietly. “The thought of my sacrifice never left my mind, even as I swore to you I wouldn’t go through with it.”

He takes a shuddering breath and a tear drips down his cheek. You catch it with your fingertips as you cradle his face with your free hand, your heart breaking for him all over again. His tears prompt your own and you struggle to hold them back, for his sake.

“And now,” he says, his voice altered, thick with tears. He swallows. “And now I see what I fool I was to doubt. To doubt you and your wisdom. To wish for death so quickly.”

He meets your gaze and you see a thousand words he hasn’t said yet there in his brown eyes. A hundred apologies, a hundred ways to beg forgiveness, a hundred confessions of love, a hundred praises, all about and for you. It’s a torrent of love and longing and guilt in his eyes and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it.

“I would have condemned the brightest of stars to death,” he says. “I would have robbed the world of its greatest treasure. And for what?”

“Oh, Gale,” you whisper. You abandon the sunlight to join him in the shadows and embrace him, holding him tightly as he struggles to regain his composure. “No more. You made the right decision. You’re here with me. I’m here with you. We’re alive, my love, because of you.”

“But I could have—“

“But you didn’t.” You pull back to cradle his face in both your hands and wait until he’s looking you full in the face. You want him to see your own resolve, but also your love, your faith in him, your pride for him. “You chose to live, my love. That is the most important thing. That is all that matters right now.”

He stares at you, letting your words sink in, until at last he smiles. Though it’s still tinged with sadness and guilt, it’s genuine. It soothes your spirit and settles some of your worries.

“I don’t deserve you, you know.”

You shake your head. This isn’t about deserving, but you know that’s a battle you won’t win here. Instead you kiss him, your lips soft against his, and you let that suffice for words for a moment.

When you finally pull away, he seems a little restored. The love is back in his eyes and his smile isn’t weighed down as it was before.

“I love you,“ you say.

“And I love you,” he responds. “Immensely. More than I scarce dreamed I could love anyone.”

“We will find another way to deal with the brain and quiet the orb inside you. Some way that keeps us both alive and together. I swear it.“

“I believe you.” There isn't a trace of uncertainty in his voice when he says it. “I want that more than anything.”

“Want what?”

“To live. With you. To see the dawn of a new day with you, the dawns of a thousand more days. To know that the road ahead, whatever it holds, won't be spent alone, because I'll have you by my side.” He pauses, as if a thought is only just now coming to him. “I can...I can have that hope, now. Thanks to you.”

You smile. You take both of his hands in yours and step back, placing yourself once more on the threshold between shadows and sun. “Then will you join me in the sunlight?”

He looks at you, then at the sunlit road beyond, and then back at you. He nods, letting go of one of your hands but tightening his hold on the other. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Without another word, he keeps his hand in yours as you lead him forward step by step.

Away from the darkness and into the light.

#bg3 #bg3 fix #my fic #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #angst fic #kinda #gale x tav #gale x reader #i don't normally write you/reader pov fic so #hopefully i did okay #please check out the art that inspired this

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have-a-treato · 8 months

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These Hands

Gale x gn!reader, Gale x gn!Tav

Content/Tags: Soft, slow, NSFW, service top Tav/reader, oral, penetration, short, one-shot

Context: Between the ending of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, on the road to Baldur's Gate. Light spoilers for the end of Act 2, Gales overall story and a non-spoilery reference to the Act 2 romance scene.

Word count: 2.3k

“You should be with me in this… Let me-“ With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

Fic List AO3

After the battle with Ketheric Thorm the group has finally made its way on the road to Baldur’s Gate. The days have been long, and with many still recovering from the battle, everyone has decided to take a well-earned day of rest before continuing the last leg of the journey to the city.

Gale had unsurprisingly and generously produced a cozy space for you both to laze the day away in. His space is now closer to a library than a tent, with bookshelves lining a spun illusion of a tower room, plush carpets laid out on every inch of the floor, and a quiet fire burning in a hearth on one wall.

You grinned at him when first stepping inside, “Your home? In Waterdeep?” You teased him.

“I didn’t show you before, so now felt as good a time as any. Nothing in all the realms is more relaxing than my library,” he said with a decidedly pretentious tone.

With a knowing grin, you held up your hands in acquiescence and headed for the pile of pillows tucked between two of the bookshelves. Who were you to argue with a wizard about his tower?

Now, you’ve stirred from a long nap nestled into Gale’s side on the pillows as he reads a large tome picked up from somewhere on the journey. Probably the Sharran temple.

“Mmm… this was a great idea, I must admit.” You mumble into his shoulder as you wake.

Gale winds his arm around your hip, tucking you even closer. “That implies you had doubts about our afternoon of languor, and I must say I’m a bit offended. I have great ideas. Particularly when it comes to you.”

You let out a groggy snort as you stretch your free arm across his chest, continuing your ascent back to the waking world.

He turns his head away from his book to nuzzle your hair, “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into your scalp. “You took some hard hits during the battle with Thorm. Or are you hungry? I can whip up the stew you like. Or could I interest you in a book from my vast collection? I have one in mind I think you’ll find fascinating. Or-“

You cut him off when you start quietly chuckling into his shoulder. This man nearly met his own end and yet he seeks to serve you.

“I’ll advise you it is unwise to laugh at a man’s stew.” He says with a grin.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips, and wiggle out of his hold to straddle his middle. You gently remove that hefty tome of his and set it aside. Your hand shifts up his chest to lightly, absently trace the lines of his orb sigil along his neck.

“I only realized that I’d like to do something for you,” you say softly.

Gale’s grin falters momentarily, “I could not ask more of you, who have already given me everything.”

Your heart soars at his words, but you know Gale. You know just how deserving he is of everything you have to offer, yet he would not ask for it. He would not ask for anything for fear of not being worthy of it, despite all you’ve shared together. He must be shown how deserving he is, you decide. Slowly, perhaps he will come to see that he can receive the same love and care that he graces you with.

His hands reach for you after you’ve paused too long in your contemplating, but you catch his wrists. Closing your eyes, you plant a soft kiss at his right wrist, listening to his small, somewhat awed sigh at the touch. Your plan takes form in your mind, and you drop his left hand to begin work on his right. Beginning at his wrist, your thumbs move in small circles, massaging the muscle and small joints. As you move up toward to his elbow and back down to the wrist, squeezing lightly to continue massaging, Gale lets out another sigh. Your lips twitch at his easily coaxed reactions. He clearly enjoys this attention - why not let himself ask for more? You move to his hand, methodically rubbing down the length of each finger. You get a little lost in your task, enjoying the feel of his skin as you finish with the right and move to the left. Gale’s life as a prodigy shows in his hands. Not soft, as one might imagine for a wizard, but slightly rough and dry from the constant turning of pages, of wielding a staff, of pulling from the Weave. These hands have worshiped your skin, have clinched victories, have created wonders. They are precious. Glancing up at him, he has a bemused expression but attempts to hide it with that ever-present grin. You bring both hands up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. A few small scars decorate the tops of his hands, and you take a moment to give each one their own attentions.

“Hmm…” you sigh with your lips brushing over his fingers. “These hands have done so much.”

“These hands can do more,” he says with a lift of his brows.

You chuckle, giving an index finger a little nip. “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with their skills.” You eye him mischievously, licking the tip of that same finger with your tongue. A tease. “I would know what these hands desire.”

“They want for nothing where you are concerned. How can they grant your desires? Now, there is the better question.” He replies.

Not good enough. You hold his gaze again, trying to let him see your openness, your earnestness to give him something of yourself that he deserves. Something he didn’t have to earn by being anything other than himself. You slide your tongue around that finger, bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly from knuckle to tip.

“Nothing?” You whisper, “Nothing at all?”

His eyes are locked with yours, and you sense him tense beneath you slightly. The jovial mask of Gale of Waterdeep slips a little; in his eyes you see that yearning you suspected was there all along. They search your face, looking for deception, for conditional affection, perhaps even outright lies. But they will find none, and you will prove it to him over and over and over again. You press and encouraging kiss to his palms, catching the movement of his throat as he swallows nervously.

“You.” He says lowly. “Always you.”

Reverently placing his hands down, you lean in, taking his face between your palms. “You have me. Wholly.” You breathe onto his lips. The kiss is a brush of skin at first, then confident as he attempts to take the lead, dancing that talented tongue with yours to drive you mad. You nip at his lower lip to take back control, slowing the pace. Softly sucking on his lip as you pull back, you give him your eyes full of that openness to reassure him, as your hands move lower.

Slowly you release the buckle of his tunic, pushing the fabric up over his torso, planting treasuring kisses along his chest as you head down to his trousers. His hands make a gentle protest in your hair, but you place them back at his sides, a quiet question in your eyes as you continue. You can see the uncertainty in his gaze, the hesitation to bask in your attention, and the mix of excitement and curiosity for what you will do next. Which will win out?

He gives a soft, tentative smile as your signal to continue. You unfasten the ties for his trousers with an easy smile, tugging them down just enough, and do the same for his underwear. The moment is too precious to interrupt with disrobing completely. You are singularly focused on showing this man, in some small way, just how much you care for him.

His cock bobs, half-hard, as you reveal it. You take him in hand, pausing again with that question in your eyes as you bend down. His chest rises and falls in anticipation as he gives you a slight nod, reaching out a hand to thread through your hair loosely. Starting at the base, you give him a long, thorough lick, keeping his gaze all the while. The throaty noise Gale releases in response is delicious in your ears – you want more. His cock stiffens fully in your hand now, and you put your lips around the tip, circling and sucking. The hand in your hair twitches. More. You hear a hiss as you swallow him fully, pulling back up to flick your tongue at the sensitive underside of his head, then pushing back down, sucking hard this time. That hiss turns into a huff as your pace quickens, squeezing the base of him with your fingers. More. You want even more. Even though this is about Gale, you might be a little selfish. You want to see the faces he’s making, how his chest is heaving, how his arms are flexing to restrain himself, the shape his mouth makes with each sound. With a few last licks and sucks, you pull off, too eager to make those visions a reality. You sit up and lick your lips, watching his face as he pants and reaches for you.

You shake your head, backing off to impatiently remove your underthings. Crawling back to straddle him, you take that hand that reached out up to your mouth to kiss his wrist. You position yourself and begin to sink down slowly, almost teasingly onto his cock. His breath hitches with each rise and fall of your hips as you take him inside you. This - this is what you wanted. His rapturous expression as he fits inside you, as you squeeze him, as you bite the meat of his thumb in your own ecstasy. He is yours, and you will worship him as he deserves. Fully seated, you begin to slowly rock your hips. This isn’t a race, isn’t lewd, isn’t about your pleasure. It is intimate, and full of your will to prove him worthy of you, worthy of his own life. You kiss each knuckle of his fingers as you continue that slow, sensual rocking. His eyes are heavy-lidded, jaw slack, chest rising and falling with his panting breath as he takes in the sight of you. You are both mostly clothed, and yet it is somehow all the more passionate for it.

“I…”, he breathes, then clears his throat nervously. “I won’t last much longer with you like this.”

“Then let go,” you say softly. “This isn’t about me.”

His expression remains conflicted, flitting between pleasure and confusion of your focused attention. “You should be with me in this… Let me-“

With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

His breath shudders as your hips restart their languid rhythm. Your hand rests over his on your chest, his other hand grasping your hip as you rock, lift up slightly, and sink back down into another rocking motion. All slow, liquid movements. Your gazes are locked, your chests lifting with the same breaths, your mouths softly open with the same tender sounds of desire. The hand at your hip squeezes, and you feel his hips start to meet yours in kind. A long groan escapes him as he quickly thrusts up into you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You lean forward as his eyes fall shut, taking in his face as he comes. His cheeks flush, his brows furrow, his breath rushes out in quick pants; then all slows and relaxes into bliss. Your rhythm doesn’t stop, riding him through the high and leading him back down again. The light sheen of sweat on his brow earns a kiss from you, and you rest your head there, patiently waiting for him to return to you. His breath slows, and his eyes blink open sluggishly. That soft, wicked grin of his returns, but you notice the lingering astonishment behind his eyes, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real despite everything.

“For once I think I’ve rendered you speechless.”

A light chuckle escapes him as he catches his breath, “Very nearly.” He swallows, “That was…”

You interrupt his search for words with a quiet kiss. You’d rather leave the moment as it is. It needs no description, only the understanding that you did it for him because you love him. You pull away with a tender caress of his cheek, sitting back and pulling his tunic back down, his trousers back up as you lift off of him. You sense him watching you, still likely contemplating if you are amongst the illusions of this room. Quietly you re-dress in your underthings and bestow more kisses on his hands as you rejoin him among the pillows on your knees. “I recall mention of stew, but what about a cup of tea first?”

“That sounds lovely.” He says with a smile. Before he can even twitch a muscle, you’ve lifted up again and are strolling toward the very real small table near the hearth housing a teapot with ready-made tea the Wizard of Waterdeep keeps magically warmed with an environmental spell. In a few moments, you’re striding back with two cups, warmed to the perfect temperature and ready to sip. You place Gale’s cup atop the tome he was perusing earlier, earning you a slightly scandalized look as he swipes the cup up, taking a sip. You chuckle to yourself as you re-take your place at his side on the pillows. As he sets his cup down – not on a book this time – you snatch his hands again.

Placing one at your cheek and one to your lips you whisper, “I can’t get enough of these hands.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

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ode-to-fury · 21 days

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See the thing is I think a fundemental thing about Gale Dekarios is that if he didn’t have a love interest to talk him down he would claim the crown every time. Because I don’t think he would even stop to think about whether it’s a good idea or not, just like he didn’t stop to think about the orb the forst time. Did he learn his lesson that time? Sort of. He’s going to be super careful about rebuilding the crown. No mistakes! No research undone! He learned his lesson in the sense that now he thinks he was being too hasty and not thinking it through with all the facts… but he has all the facts now. And Karsus’ own book! I think that’s such a fundemental part of his character. Also, he’s impulsive! He does and says things without thinking all the time! Like yes he does it in a charming way and the way Tim plays him leads you to believe he’s jokingly doing it but I’m not so sure. His impulsivity, despite what Larian try and make you believe in scenes like the Blood of Lathander, has only marginally improved from when he discovered the orb. In fact, he’s been locked in a tower for a year, if anything that made it worse now that there’s so much to see and do again.

“But his friends!” I hear you say. Well, disembodied voice that represents my imaginary audience, to that I say- he had friends before. Supposedly. And I have this feeling that he’d think no matter how good of a friendship he has with someone, they’ll leave at the drop of a hat if he does anything wrong ever. Maybe- MAYBE- one of the others could convince him not to do it (I’m thinking Wyll probably) but idk how much sway that would hold with him given his past with people like Elminster and I assume his other colleagues. And another very prominent characteristic of his is that he is very romantically motivated. Even one of his wishes if you talk to that mirror is some shit about a tower being a refuge for him and his sweetheart or whatever (I love this sap of a man). I think more than a lot of the others, he is really looking for a deep connection, a deep companionship, and in the absence of something like that I think he’ll settle for the best revenge against Mystra he can conceive of which is wresting her magic from her or becoming better than her. (Granted it doesnt exactly work out that way but that is the groundwork of his plan)

So I think, in conclusion, if there are a hundred alternate universes Gale would pursue the crown of karsus in 98 of them. The two other possibilities being he has a romantic partner that does not share his ambitions or think they will harm him and thus talks him out of it, or he does for some reason listen to a voice of reason which he has come to trust as much as his own (the only companion I can concieve of this as being is Wyll or an unromanced Tav/Durge)

#also obviosuky the companiosn own personalities and choices will play a role #and this isnt to say he wouldnt be happy Not choosing the crown #i think he would be a whole lot happier even without a so #BUT #i dont think he would see that think about that or care about that #he doesnt really plan ahead #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale bg3

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fullmoonandstar · 4 months

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I can't let you go

Gale x Reader/unnamed Tav x Astarion

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.5 k

Cw: polyamory, mentions of the orb and all it entails, angst, anger

Summary: Gale made you choose between Astarion and him, and none of you were happy with your decision. After you prevented him from detonating the orb and killing Ketheric Thorm, you find a purposeless Gale, who questions his decision and his complicated feelings for you.

AN: inspired by a dream I had after Gale made me choose between him and Astarion.

The harpers had cleared the first floor of Moonrise Towers and you had set up camp in the former dormitory. A fire was burning in the hearth and despite your win over Ketheric Thorm the atmosphere was tense and sober. You knew now what you were truly up against, but the change from having to fight a god to fighting an elder brain wasn't a relief. At least the shadows felt less dense and dangerous outside the protective bubble of the moon lanterns.

You looked around the room. Halsin was talking to Thaniel and Art, Lae'zel polished her weapons, Shadowheart was meditating, Astarion had sneaked off, probably to find something valuable that could go in his bag. But someone else was missing too, Gale. You had a bad feeling not seeing him anywhere that you could not explain and you jumped up looking for him. You found him in a small room, siting on the floor and staring into the fire.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. It hurt you seeing him like this. Gale had worn an open smile the first time you met him and had continued to charm you with his corny humour and passion for knowledge. But that had changed, and it was your fault, at least partially. He had feelings for you, and it came to a heartbreaking scene when you showed genuine interest in Astarion. The others didn't really understand what you and him had. Yes, he was an asshole often, but the more time you spent together, the more you could see the years of hardship and trauma splintering away like an old coat of paint. He seemed to slowly reclaim the person he is, and you loved seeing him bloom. When Gale caught on, he confronted you about it, made you choose between him and Astarion, and well, you could not let go of Astarion. This had been shortly before you had met Elminster and heard about the grim task Mystra had bestowed upon Gale. As hard as he tried, Gale was unable to hide his feelings completely. All of this weight heavy on him. He had been handed a suicide mission and you had prevented him from even doing that.

He noticed you standing in the door finally, but his gaze only flickered to you briefly.

“I should've done it, it would be all over if I hadn’t failed.”

It sounds more like “you made me fail” to you, and anger bubbled up in your chest.

“What did you expect me to do?" you snapped. "Let you kill yourself? Is that what you wanted?!”

“Maybe that would have been better! What was I thinking?” He jumped to his feet, restless.

“If you think for one moment I would let you sacrifice yourself just like that…” you left the sentence hang.

“What is it to you if live or die? It’s my life!”

You gasp, flail your hands, not knowing what else could relieve the outrage, and you feel your face burn.

“What is it to me? WHAT IS IT ME?!” If you were Karlach, you would surely set this place on fire.

“Gods for some smart ass wizard, you're pretty dumb.”

Gale opened his mouth to release a retort, but you continued: “I killed an immortal for you and so the gods help me, I’d do it again.”

You rarely raise your voice and certainly not at him, Gale is stunned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

The burning anger reached your eyes and your vision blurred. Gale just stared at you, frozen in place, mouth hanging open. It would have been funny to see him so utterly speechless, if you weren't so overwhelmed with other emotions. How could he be so stupid, so blind to your feelings? Yes, you had rejected him, but it had not been an easy decision. You knew Astarion had no problem with you seeing other people and even if he teased Gale, he cared more for the wizard than he let on. When Elminster stayed at your camp, he was appalled at the request and voiced his concern for Gale and you had not been able to sleep for days after.

“I would fucking do anything so you don’t have to blow yourself up, Gale.”

When he whispered your name, all the pent-up frustration with Mystra, Elminster and Gale evaporated and left you a deflated crying mess. Your knees felt like they would give out at any moment now. You heard shoes scuff over the stone floor and arm locked tight around your upper body. You let your head sink into Gale's shoulder, and your neck tickled with his hot breath when he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The emotions drain out of you freely as you cry into Gale's robes, and he held you until the tears and sobs finally stop. His hold on you loosened, and you reluctantly pull back, but not too far. You must have looked miserable, but you gathered your little bit of strength you still had and took his hands in yours.

“Please, Gale, trust me on this. We’ll find a way to deal with the orb. I can’t lose you, please. Stay with me.”

His eyes took in your face, studying it while the gears in his head turned, but he kept getting stuck on your lips. He pulled his hands out of your grasp and cupped your face. You leaned in when Gale did and your lips brushed softly at first then emotion. You felt flashes of dread and anxiety through your shared psychic connection. Of course, Gale didn't want to die but ever since the orb had entered his life through his own hubris he had been haunted by the disappointment of Mystra and the ever looming threat of killing everyone and everything in a days travel distance. After the meeting with Elminster, his days had been numbered and his goddess had given him a clear way out and yet he still breathed passed his due date and it was because of you. You stopped him. If it had been anyone else, he would have gone through and had just let go but he couldn't look into your blood smeared face pleading him to not do it and dismiss it. Part of Gale resented how important you were to him and how he was not first in your heart. For you this was not how the situation was. What you had confessed in anger was not less true because of it. You feelings for Gale had only grown stronger even if you tried to not to let them show. It had been hard enough on him and you didn't want to complicate things further.

The kiss ended and you rest your forehead against Gale’s

“I’m not going to leave. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” Gale whispers. His hands rested on your hips.

It sounded like it was suppose to be humorous but you could only muster the strength for a weak smile. You took his face between your hands and he leaned into your touch.

“Listen,” you started, “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with but I’m selfish and greedy and it’s literally the end of the world.”

He was opening his mouth to say something but you quickly continued: “Please be by my side.”

Gale stayed silent and with every passing beat your heart sank. You let go of his face, mumbled an apology about misreading the signs and extracted yourself from his arms. Without looking at him you tried to flee into the dark hallway.

He caught your hand.

“Wait.”

Gale takes your hand into both of his and you met his eyes. There was something in them that you could not read. He sighed in resignation and kissed the back of your hand.

“I’ll try. For you, I will try but no promises.”

You were stunned, and the words needed a moment to process in your mind. When they finally did render, you practically jumped into his arms and he could hear his ribs crack when you pulled him into a bone crushing hug. This was more than you could have hoped for. If there had been any water left in your body you would have cried again.

“Finally.”

Gale’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, but you didn't have to look to know who it was. Astarion leaned casually in the open door to the hallway as if he had been there the whole When you were both aware of his presence, he pushed away from it and walked over. He fixed Gale with his red eyes, hands on his hips like a mother about to deliver a scolding, and Gale twitched in your arms.

“They’ve been inconsolable for weeks." he waved in your direction. Gale didn't say anything, so Astarion continued: "but it seems you have finally come to your senses. That’s what a brush with death does to you, I guess.”

What Astarion did next surprised Gale, you could feel it in the way he stiffened. Astarion closed the distance and threw his arms around both of you. After the initial shock, Gale relaxed into this unusual hug, and you smiled into his shoulder.

At that moment, at least it seemed things could be okay.

Check my Masterlist for more

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader x Astarion #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

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perenians · 4 months

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meet my galemancer tav, cassia!

i went a bit overboard with headcanons so they're gonna go under the cut

cassia is a wild magic sorcerer/circle of the land druid with the sage background

her birth parents gave her to druids and she was taught to use nature to quell her magic—or at least, to have a better handle of it (these druids live in the forest of lethyr)

little cassia was a bit of a pyromaniac—something that the druids were not too excited about. the only times she was allowed to use fire was when they needed to do a controlled burn of the brush, and even then they were hesitant to let her

her explanation: "fire is beautiful and it is wild. it has captured the attention of many a human since the dawn of time, and i am no different."

cassia is pure unadulterated weave and nature combined, something that gale finds refreshing after spending a year locked up in his tower

she is most powerful and her magic is most erratic when she's emotional. when she was younger, this was when she'd be most dangerous, so she kind of just. represses her feelings as a habit and focuses on other people as a distraction

she tries to reason with their enemies, even though it usually doesn't work and encounters still end in fights. still, she tries!

she is kind but firm, though some would call her stubborn. she also loves people very easily and readily, though she keeps that to herself.

she is gentle, but it's very clearly learned. it doesn't come naturally to her

at some point, she makes a joke about her being the druid but gale's magic coming to him more naturally. the conversation follows like this:

gale, matter-of-factly: "well, of course. i was educated by the best of the best. from a young age, i could compose the weave like a musician composes music."

(cassia is slightly irked by this)

to her, magic is her very being instead of something she controls. it's part of the reason why she dislikes mystra—she doesn't want to be something that is manipulated and used.

gale does not know this. this is a point of contention between them (from cass' pov. gale is not aware of this) until gale speaks to mystra

gale: "if you like, i could show you some of what i learned."

cass knows that she could use the practice and proper training. and gale does have the skill to back it up, judging by the way he casts spells. so she agrees, albeit warily, and leaves the fire to follow him to somewhere more isolated

gale turns out to be a very good teacher. he meets her where she's at and works with her magic instead of trying to control it. he corrects her form when spellcasting and helps her refine her gestures and movements

slowly, she relaxes, and they begin chatting amiably and trading anecdotes after each session

she tells him why she never pursued training and why she doesn't like mystra and it bothers gale

after a tenday of practice sessions and conversations, she asks him to show her his favorite spell, and he shows her the most beautiful dancing lights she's ever seen. the lights twinkle like stars as they twist and turn in a circle, and she watches them in awe. too soon, the spell ends, and the two of them are once again in darkness.

she begins to understand, then, just how much he loves magic. she caught a glimpse of him while he was casting the spell, and saw how much care he put into the lights, how fondly he looked at them—like they were old friends, and he was seeing them again for the first time in a while.

that's when cass realizes that his favorite school of magic was illusion. never evocation, though the raw power of it was attractive. no, he was a wizard who loved weaving visions of beauty and wonder.

the weave scene happens, but cassia pours some of her own magic into the weave. gale feels it and startles a little, and there are visible little wisps of wild magic intertwined with the weave. she imagines the two of them, their magic flowing together and just. being shared

she meant it as a friendly thing (like playing a duet), but to wizards sharing magic is Very Intimate, so gale's flustered. the scene ends in the same way it does in the game

she absolutely fumbles her charisma checks and fails her persuasion/deception rolls with true soul gut and the duergar (this is what happened in-game and i thought it was really funny)

her first encounter with sussur blossoms was vexing, to say the least. she'd always been able to channel her magic through nature—this was the first time nature absorbed her magic and gave nothing in return. the sussur blossom remained unchanged by her magic, and nearly sucked her magic dry. it was terrifying

cassia looks really pretty in the sunlight of rosymorn monastery. it looks like she's glowing in the soft light

when disciple z'rell says the line about gale cassia casts hold person on her and slaps her. the Big Moonrise Towers Fight is triggered

they barely make it out alive.

gale confesses!!!!! and cassia tells him that loving him feels as easy as breathing, but she's not in love with him, not yet. they sit under the stars together, still. in the morning, gale is left with hope, and cassia with a seed planted in her heart.

cassia gets a confession scene too!!!!! it parallels the weave scene but instead of gale showing her the weave, she shows him her magic. except this time she infuses emotion (love) into it and it comes out wilder than it did before (yay no repression) and she imagines the same thing she did in the other scene because she knows what it means, now

the entirety of this post happens

gale's earring really starts to bother cassia in baldur's gate, but she doesn't say anything. gale thought she was mad at him because her face would get pinched whenever she looked at him but in truth she was looking at the earring

she buys him a new one—white gold with a peridot teardrop. she thinks that the gold suits him better than silver

she knows herself well enough that she recognizes that her intentions behind getting gale a new earring are not entirely pure. she ends up keeping it because she doesn't know if such a gesture is welcome, and because she's afraid that it'll make him feel weighed down (<- this is her projecting onto him)

she buys a pair of earrings for herself, too, and wears them—they're identical to gale's, but with amethysts instead because they remind her of him. to her, it represents a commitment. it's a promise she makes to him that she does not ask him to make in return. but if he does she will coincidentally have an earring to give him LOL. okay i'm. gonna stop now bc this is getting absurdly long

#i am cringe but i am free #jesus CHRIST this post is long #cassia #galecassia #bg3 tav #peren procreates #per plays #bg3 #calm down per

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rottenbrainstuff · 4 months

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BG3 playthrough - Endless Act 3 quests

Spoilers below the cut!

OH MY GOD there’s too many things in Rivington…….. Luckily it seems most of these quests are small and self-contained so I can play by slowly advancing through areas and finishing whatever NPC thing is there before moving on?

Hey fellow dark urge players - have you ever noticed that if you look in the magic mirror, it resets your tav’s name back to The Dark Urge? And you will have to retype out the name you want? It does not do this for normal tavs. I wonder if this is just a bug. MORE interesting would be if they did it on purpose, and you are constantly having to reassert your new identity.

I was going through some old papers and letters and in a roundabout way realized there was a whole cutscene with Karlach that I missed back in Moonrise Towers. If you approach the bugbear trader with Karlach on your team, you will get a whole scene about an old friend of hers from Avernus. I love that there are little details like this in the game, and even though I am uncovering I think all or close to all of the little plot points, there will still be additional surprises like this if I replay with different teammates.

God, Rivington and especially Wyrm’s Crossing are so damned full of people. My computer is just lagging the fuck out. Not inspiring. I wish there was some way to optimize this better. Maybe reduce the rendering radius even more or something I dunno?

I found Arfur and his delightful little plot to blow up refugee children with toy bombs! What a delight that was. Too bad for this motherfucker, my brain-scrambled durge tav imprinted like a baby chick on the tiefling refugees during his first few days off the nautiloid, and this guy’s ass is now grass.

I’ve noticed that online guides seem to be incomplete (A SHOCK!) about how to resolve the situation with him, saying that you must either side with Arfur and the squatters leave, or else you side with the squatters which causes Arfur to go to Sharess’ Caress, and you can confront him there later about the plot. Me, I’m trying to take this enormous area in little pieces and I don’t really feel like opening up yet another new area yet - what if I want to deal with him right here and now?

There might be other dialogue branches to get to the same result, but here’s what I did: if you use detect thoughts during the confrontation, you can see Arfur is nervous about the squatters finding his basement. You can ask him about his basement, then ask him if you should go check it out. He will lose his patience and instruct his hired goons to attack. Once you kick their asses, (which btw you can safely do, as far as I can see, this fight does not aggro anyone else in the area) he stays in the area without running off, waiting for you to make a decision.You are then free to go and explore the basement and do the whole exploding toys quest. When Manip Nestor tells you to go find the one responsible for this, Arfur is still standing right there in front of his house, and you can finish the quest right here instead of going all the way to Sharess’ Caress. I’m assuming this conclusion is all exactly the same as if it was at Sharess’ Caress: you can agree to let him go, you can accept his bribe, or you can insist he’s going to be arrested. Then he walks away, presumably off to turn himself in at the jail like a good boy lmao, and the squatters thank you for allowing them to stay. Easy peasy and no need to go track Arfur down in some brand new area.

OMG Tara is so cute. If you approach her with Gale, she has a longer conversation with you. Is that the only time we see her?? Please say no! I love Tara so much!

Hey so I talked to the ironhand gnomes, went up through the ladder in their hideout, and discovered, surprisingly, that it leads to the smith’s rooms??? I wanted to ask him about it, why he has a secret hatch that leads to a domestic terrorist organization, but when I came through the hatch, I found he had been murdered by Orin!!! Is it possible to talk to him somehow that I missed?

Speaking of Orin - I know a lot of people are annoyed with her “ooooh it’s Orin, what an unexpected surprise!” schtick, but I actually do like the way she pops up. I like how you start speaking to an NPC and the conversation slowly starts to get more and more deranged. Before I realize it’s Orin, there is a second where it’s a genuine “what the hell is happening?” reaction. What I think the problem with Orin is, is that it happens too close together. Like, I spoke to the guard at the refugee camp, then extremely shortly after that, I spoke to the blacksmith and found her again. I am less annoyed with this concept, I think it’s cool, I kind of like the implication that Orin is out there gathering intel on you so you maybe need to watch what information you give out to random strangers, I just think the meetings needed to be a bit more spaced out, and it might avoid that annoyance that some players have with her.

I loved the courier’s zhentarim note that they hadn’t heard from the group in Waukeen’s Rest for a while. In my game, I killed all those guys when I found their hideout. I think it’s neat you have options to ally with them, but my tav personally has no use for a mafia that deals in slaves and tadpoles. If you didn’t kill the zhents in Waukeen’s Rest, does the letter still say they’ve lost contact, or does it change and say something else?

I’m finding an awful lot of murdered refugees all strewn about. I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here. I know Orin is being shitty, I know we have these doppleganger freaks, and I know there’s other stuff going on as well that I haven’t even explored yet, so who knows. I wish there was some kind of reaction line from tav or companions or something? Like. When we approached the blighted village, they commented on the dead villagers on the road. Here, I climbed down a well and found like four murdered refugees all in a pile, and there’s no comment??

I LOVED the weirdness of finding a child next to the southern checkpoint gate that was actually voiced by a real child, and not an adult VA. Very very jarring! As this is the only actual child voice in the entire game that I’ve seen so far, I assume this must be one of the dev’s kids that they put in to be cute, and I think that’s fun.

#bg3 #bg3 playthrough #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

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