amorgansgal

[amorgansgal]

I think Gale dog ears his books, he puts whatever he can find as a marker (banana peel? A shoe? Whatever is at hand), he scribbles on the margins, annotates them, drinks tea and eats next to his books and sometimes he stains them. I believe Gale loves books as a source of knowledge, of joy, and when you love reading you read wherever you are, your books become stained, water damaged, there’s sand and grass between the pages, lost bills, unintentional pressed flowers. Books are meant to be loved, to be LIVED, they’re not meant to stand pristine in a bookshelf shrine.

He lends books, he doesn’t care -much- if people don’t give them back because he’s more interested in sharing knowledge. He never forgets a stolen book, though, and he holds grudges if people give the books back without reading them at all.

Maybe he does take care of some books, irreplaceable tomes perhaps, but his fingers itch to annotate, to make the pages his own.

His bookshelves are exceptionally well catalogued, though, he has a whole system. The same can’t be said about his potions and ingredients, as Tara graciously reminds him haha.

It’s my tumblr and I can headcanon whatever I want.

[amorgansgal]

I live here rent free ty

[amorgansgal]

Just roommates 👀?

[amorgansgal]

sorry to this man.

[amorgansgal]

🔞 NSFW Gale thoughts below 👀👀 🔞

Gale finding you reading in his bed, laying on your stomach, one of his robes draped over your naked body

Gale not being able to resist, draping himself over you.

Gale fucking you gently, telling you to continue reading

Gale chuckling in your ear as it becomes too much for you, keeping up his slow strokes as you bury your face in the bed

Gale murmuring sweetly in your ear that if you're not going to read he'll do it for you.

Gale continuing to fuck you slow and deep as he reads to you, voice deep and slow in your ear, breathing growing ragged.

[amorgansgal]

I wish they'd let Wyll be angry, specifically: angry for himself, not just for other people. I wish they'd let him yell at his dad. I wish they'd let the player tell Wyll that it's okay to love your dad but still feel hurt and betrayed by him. Let the guy vent all that pent up negative emotion for goodness sake. Give him a scene or three where Theo Solomon could flex his voice acting skills.

[amorgansgal]

Dedicated to all the Galemancers out there. We are all one with the weave.

[amorgansgal]

can I come over and look at you like this

[amorgansgal]

[amorgansgal]

[amorgansgal]

[amorgansgal]

father's day halsin

[amorgansgal]

You're not sure why you kiss him.

Maybe it's the way his lips moved as he recited the conjuration, the subtle bob of his Adams apple catching your eye. Possibly it's the intensity of the moment: the way you see those hands weaving not only through the air, but imagine them tracing along your body.

It could be the way you've heard him stumble over his words when your comments have penetrated deep through his mental fortitudes, or it could be that glimmer of mischief in his eyes when he finds those words once again to tease and beckon.

All you know is that the taste of his lips is divine, the brush of his hand on your body sends sparks through you, the eyes of his Goddess are ever watchful.

Maybe you kiss him for just that reason alone, to get under her immortal skin.

[amorgansgal]

A red deer stag (Cervus elaphus) decorates his antlers for the breeding season in London, England

by Richard McManus

[amorgansgal]

I see this post and I raise you two babies

[amorgansgal]

Chapter Three of Instinct is ✨LIVE✨

🚧Warning: Excess moisture hazard. Not safe for public reading without a plastic seat or divine self-restraint. LOL⚠️

Rating: Explicit (mdni 18+) Relationships: Halsin x Tempest (OC) Fandom: Baldurs Gate 3 (post game) Additional tags: POV Halsin, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language. Fluff and Smut, Polyamorous Character, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Dark Past, Sleepwalking, Reithwin, Age Difference, Friends to Lovers, Demisexuality, POC, Healing, Magic scar/tattoo.

When Tempest, a human touched by the Feywild's haunting beauty, crosses paths with Halsin, the Hierophant of Silvanus, more bear than elf, something ancient stirs. What begins as quiet kinship soon blazes into fierce, consuming passion. Both carry echoes of the fey in their blood; she, marked by survival; he, born of wild groves. Each awakens the untamed heart in the other, a humming beat beyond planes and reason. On a night conjured by magic and vines, they offer each other the most primal of gifts: a glimpse of wholeness, where souls entwine in sacred abandon (a.k.a. Tempest loses her V-card to Halsin).

Excerpt from chapter three: Nature's Bounty

“In my youth, I was known within my circle for having a rather sweet tooth. I developed an addiction to fresh honeycombs. Raiding beehives while in wildshape became a daily ritual for months. However, the bees did not take kindly to me—understandably—robbing them of their most coveted treasure. I ended up getting stung numerous times: on the nose, the paws, and… other unmentionable places. I am now convinced that the Tree Father wanted to teach me a lesson in temperance.”

Tempest snickered, raising her cup. “Other places, huh? Like what, you stuck your bear wiener inside and found out?”

She hesitated when Halsin didn’t answer right away, her eyes darting to his profile.

“Halsin?” She took a sip to calm her nerves.

“Well... a little further down south,” Halsin said, raking a hand through his hair.

Tempest did a spit-take, stifling a laugh.

“No. Surely you didn’t do that.”

Halsin gave her the side-eye.

“HAHAHAHAHAH!”

Tempest lost it in a fit of belly laughter, drawing the attention of passersby, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Very unladylike.

“STUNG ON THE BALLS?!”

“All true, I’m afraid,” Halsin responded with a slight grimace.

“When does it ever necessitate a bear to teabag a beehive���you know what, no. Don’t answer that!” Tempest put her hand up just as Halsin looked ready to respond. She pressed her lips together.

“You jest, now,” Halsin said, turning to face her. There was a peculiar intensity in his eyes as he did.

“I’m so sorry, Halsin. It’s just too damn funny—the deadpan delivery. Oh man! Stop—my tummy hurts!” Tempest collapsed, wheezing, slapping his leather-clad arm repeatedly like a wrestler admitting defeat.

Halsin narrowed his eyes, his mouth twitching.

“The worst was yet to come, however—”

“—Halsin?!” Tempest rubbed her face in exasperation.

“When I woke up the morning after, to the sight of my testicles swollen to the size of a gra—” Halsin hunched over, attempting a show-and-tell, miming the girth of his imaginary balls with a frown.

“HALSIN!!” Tempest turned away, cringing in her seat. She couldn’t take how Halsin spoke of his balls like it was the most natural thing in the world to share in public.

The elf had no shame.

Halsin was relentless, however. He straightened, his voice turning somber.

“It was serious enough that the archdruid of the grove—my predecessor—had to oversee my treatment personally, lest I risk becoming sterile.”

More? Click Here.

Shout-out to my awesome moots: this story only exists because of you! <3 @thoughts-of-bear, @amorgansgal, @hippotooth, @rambling-tam, @serenaoffaerun, & @optimisticgrey 💫