#Gale/Author

[dragonagitator]

Smutty BG3 fanfic prompt / scene / ficlet:

I wrote this scene with my own "Modern Girl in Faerun" author self-insert WIP in mind, but who knows when or if that fic will ever actually see the light of day. So if someone who can actually write smut wants to use this scene as a prompt for a lengthier fic, please do, and please also feel free to make any changes necessary to make it fit your own story or just generally improve the writing.

Summary: Post-game, Dom!Gale/sub!OFC, established relationship (but one that's about to change in a big way), discussion of consensual mind control, touches on bondage, breeding kink, and worship kink, implied impending fellatio. Features the aforementioned Book of Erotic Fantasy and teases the side of Gale revealed in his origin playthrough line about how he "always liked the idea of being worshipped. Adored. Obeyed..."

I apologize in advance for it not being very good and for cutting off right before the actual smut should begin. I'm not putting this out there because I'm proud of it, I'm putting this out there because I sincerely hope that writers who are actually good at this sort of thing might find it, take it away from me, and do it better.

If you're still interested then there's about 1,800 words of unhinged brainrot below the cut. Criticism welcome!

We’d been home in Waterdeep for less than a week when I found Gale sitting on the balcony loveseat, frowning at a book that sat closed in his lap.

“Did the book do something to offend you?” I teased as I bent over for a kiss.

“Ah, no,” he replied, “it’s just I find myself with a bit of an ethical dilemma.”

‘An ethical dilemma?’ I wondered, raising my eyebrow and taking a closer look at the book.

It was a rather thick book, with a velvet cover and tied closed with a silk ribbon. The cover imagery was extremely suggestive.

“The Book of Erotic Fantasy,” I sounded out carefully. “And exactly what sort of ‘ethical dilemmas’ does a smutty book provoke?”

“It’s not just erotic literature,” Gale explained, “It’s more of a manual.”

“A Faerun sex manual? This I gotta see,” I said and made grabby hands at him. He hesitated for a moment, then somewhat reluctantly handed it over. I sat beside him and snuggled into him as he put his arm around me, positioning us so that we could look at its pages together.

I untied the ribbon and opened the book, and laughed when the book itself moaned in my hands. Reading anything written in the Thorass alphabet was still a challenge for me so I flipped through the pages simply looking at the illustrations. There were a LOT of illustrations depicting various sexual positions and techniques. It appeared to be something like an illustrated Karma Sutra.

“Whenever did you have the time to go buy this?” I asked him with delight. “Are these things you’d like to try with me? Because that–” I pointed at a particularly intriguing illustration of a woman in bondage in some sort of complicated contraption I’d never seen before “–looks like it could be fun, if you know a good smith we could commission it from.”

“No, I, uh, that is, this volume has been in my library for some time,” Gale stammered and I smirked. I’d always loved how he could somehow still be so bashful sometimes despite being such a freak in the sheets.

“And it’s more than just a manual of… activities,” he continued. “The book is magical in nature–”

“Yeah, I got that part when it moaned,” I interjected.

“Yes, and when studied at length it can confer certain… abilities and… enhancements to the person who reads it,” he continued.

“Oooh, tell me more about these ‘abilities’ and ‘enhancements,’” I purred, setting the book aside so I could turn and straddle him, throwing my arms around his neck. He blushed so prettily.

“Well, studying the book makes one more charming and increases their endurance,” he began listing the effects while lazily stroking my sides. “And it ensures that one’s partners are never left… wanting.”

“Oh, so that’s your secret,” I teased, thinking back to all the mind-blowing nights we’d shared since he’d finally gotten over his hangups about bedding me.

“Ah, no, while I’d studied the book once years ago, the effects wear off after a tenday of celibacy. So after the year of isolation in my tower, I had only my… native talent… to rely upon,” he confessed.

His “native talent” had been more than enough, but now my curiosity was piqued.

“So you’re saying this book could make you an even better lover than you already are?” I started to grind against him lightly and his hands settled on my hips. “While I’ve been perfectly satisfied so far, I have to admit that I’m intrigued… although if you got any better, I might not walk quite right ever again.”

“It also conveys mastery over one’s own reproductive system, and that of one’s partner,” he continued. “It acts as a perfect contraceptive. Or, if one so desires, it can… guarantee that conception takes place.” He looked me directly in the eyes as he said that last part, seemed to search my face for clues as to how I felt about that.

Just the idea of it sent a jolt of desire straight to my core.

“Are you saying,” I responded, my mouth suddenly dry as the urge to spread my legs even wider for him overwhelmed me, “that this book would allow you to breed me whenever you want?”

He tightened his grip on my hips and shuttered slightly, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before he looked back up at me with determination. His pupils were blown so wide that I could barely see the brown of his irises anymore. It felt like he was looking directly into my soul.

“Yes,” he confirmed firmly.

‘So, my fiance has a breeding kink too,’ I mused. ‘That’s convenient.’

I was so aroused from our conversation that my hips took on a mind of their own, and I found myself grinding in his lap against the rapidly hardening bulge in his breeches that revealed just how much he enjoyed the idea of using his magic book to impregnate me at will.

“So,” I said breathily, continuing to grind – we were basically dry-humping at this point, and I was so aroused at this point that I suspected that I might be able to get off just from this, “what’s the ethical dilemma?”

“The book does have one minor detrimental property,” he explained, “in that satisfying one’s partner then places that partner under the effects of a Charm Person spell. Of course I’d never do that to someone without their consent,” he said hurriedly, “and with Mystra it was never a concern because as a Goddess, she’s immune to Charm spells,” I scowled at the mention of her name, “but with you, my love…” his right hand left my hip to gently stroke my face, soothing away my frown, “...you have no such immunity.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, is THAT what you’re worried about? I don’t think I could be any more ‘Charmed’ than I already have been by just your – what did you call them? – ‘native talents.’ And it’s not like a Charm Person spell can make someone do something that they’re completely unwilling to do.”

“That’s actually the problem,” he said, tone turning serious. “I’ve heard rumor that when the book’s gifts are used on a partner who is already as enamored as you so inexplicably are with me, it can have… other effects. Change them.”

“Change them how?” I prodded him.

“You could find yourself consumed by desperation to please me. The book could make you more pliant, much more… submissive,” he continued, his voice low with a hint of darkness creeping in as he gently thumbed my lower lip.

My brain short-circuited and I heard myself blurt, “I want you to read the book.”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea what you’re saying,” he sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. “It would be far beyond the games we’ve played. You’d still have your safeword, but the book could strip you of your desire to ever use it.”

“I want you to read the book,” I repeated, gently cupping his face in my hands, my entire body on fire at the idea of giving up that much control to him. It was terrifying, and thrilling, and deeply erotic.

“It doesn’t wear off as fast as a regular Charm Person spell,” he warned me, “The effects last for a year and a day,” my core pulsed with need at the thought of being under his spell for so long, “and that hourglass would reset every time I brought you to ecstasy. You could fall deeper and deeper under my control until you could no longer dream of wanting to escape it.” I trembled at the idea that it could effectively become permanent.

“I want you to read the book,” I said again, and kissed him deeply.

As I pulled back from the kiss, I could tell that he was as affected by the idea of it as I was. His skin was flushed, his pupils blown wide, he trembled slightly, there was a slight hitch in his breath, I could feel his heart hammering where our chests had pressed together, and he now had an erection so hard that I could feel every inch of it through the layers of our clothing.

“I don’t understand,” he protested half-heartedly, sounding almost broken with desire and longing. “How could you want something like that? Why would you give yourself so completely to someone like me?”

“Gale,” I said firmly, and began punctuating my statements with more kisses. “I love you.” Kiss. “I trust you completely.” Kiss. “I love submitting to you.” Kiss. “And I’ve wished for a while now that it could be more than just a game we play in bed.” Kiss. “I know how hard it was for you to give up the Crown of Karsus, because you’ve ‘always liked the idea of being worshiped. Adored. Obeyed,’” I quoted. He looked away in slight embarrassment, but didn’t deny it.

“If you think you could be content with a single worshiper,” I continued, giving his face one last gentle caress as I slid off his lap and onto the balcony floor, “then I would love to spend the rest of my life getting on my knees for you.”

I posed myself carefully before him. Knees spread, hands clasp behind my back, back slightly arched to thrust my tits forward, head bowed submissively. I silently trembled with desire and anticipation as I waited for his answer.

“I will read the book,” he declared as he stood up. “But it will require weeks of study to acquire its powers.” I could hear him unfastening the ties on his breeches. “You will use that time to prove to me just how much you want this, and if I’m not convinced by the time I reach the final page then I will not complete it,” he warned. 

My mind began whirling with all the delightfully degrading things I could do for him to prove my devotion. Through the lashes of my downcast gaze I could see his pants falling to his ankles, confirming that we were of like minds of what sort of “proof” he had in mind.

He gripped my jaw firmly and titled my head upward, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Do you understand?” he demanded. 

I’d never seen such an expression on his face before – perhaps I’d caught glimpses of something like it on the battlefield, or seen a ghost of it flicker across his face the first time I’d asked him to dominate me in bed – but nothing like this. He radiated power, desire, command, and more than just a hint of darkness.

“Yes, sir,” I agreed enthusiastically.

“Good girl,” he said approvingly. 

His praise washed over me like a blessing as he guided my mouth to the weeping head of his erect cock.

[amandacanwrite]

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.

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

[nukbody]

Answer to twitter`s "if your tav/durge had to draw their party members, how would they draw them ?"

[mamasturn]

send you away, major gale cleven

pairing: major gale cleven (masters of the air) x black fem oc (eden marie cleven)

content: eden is anxious about having to be separated from her husband when he reveals that he has to serve in England.

an: I was burnt out from writing elvis content, but, now we're on masters of the air content, yay!

“I’m sorry, baby, but I gotta go.” His voice was a song sung by an old church choir; soothing, warm like her mama’s hugs, then it got disruptive. Like the snares of the drums as the song reached a climax. “They need us in England.” 

The pained look on her face would be engrained in his mind forever. There would be no way for him to forget it. Her thick eyebrows eat in a deep frown, pushing the rest of her features further down. Her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, glistened with tears. She refused to blink. The gentle rivers would transition to monstrous waterfalls with no dam to keep them at bay. And her lips, full and swollen from tender kisses, quivered as she clenched her jaw to keep her composure. 

“For how long?” Her voice was quiet. Gale sighed heavily and ran a heavy hand through his hair. If he had an answer, he’d give it to her. But, his silence spoke loud enough. She hummed and brushed his hand off her lap and began to trudge upstairs. A defeated sigh came from him. 

“E,” Gale called out. He followed her up the wooden steps. “Eden!” 

His large hand palmed their bedroom door that threatened to push him out. The lamp on her side of the bed was on, the blankets on the left side were pulled back, and she stood in front of the mounted mirror brushing her freshly pressed hair. Her sad expression had morphed into one like stone. He could see her jaw tick as each second passed. 

Gale took slow steps toward her. He could only imagine what she was thinking. Her husband, whom she’d only been married to for six months, was being shipped off to England to assist them in bringing down Germany. How coulde she not be upset? 

Gale stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His advances didn’t keep her from wrapping her hair and tossing her satin scarf around her head. He leaned down, nose brushing against the shell of her ear. Eden’s breath hitched. His lips followed, pecking at the sensitive area below her ear. He pulled at her skin with his teeth and she whimpered softly, her hand falling on top of his. “Gale…” A warning. 

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “Please.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said after some time. “I knew what I got into when I married you but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared, Gale!” Finally, she turned to meet his gaze. So big and blue, they were. Filled with sympathy and remorse. 

“I knew what I was getting into when I married you, but still! I gotta send my husband away and I don’t want to think about the day where someone could knock on the door telling me--”

Gale shushed her softly and pressed her body against his in a tight embrace. His warm hand gripped her chin and tapped softly. She met his eyes. “So let’s not think about that. I leave in three weeks. We’re gonna focus on making these three weeks worthwhile, and we’ll cross the other bridge when we get to it. But I’ll always be with you one way or another, you know that, darlin’. You do know that, don’t you?”

Eden nodded. Gale raised an eyebrow. “I know, baby.” 

Gale hummed and drew invisible lines along the bare skin other thigh. The lace of her slip tickled her leg. His hand inched up slowly. “How about we practice for that final send off?” 

Eden smiled knowingly and broke away from him, peeling the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders her bare body on display. “C’mon, we’ve got all night.” 

All night indeed.

[milesplayshu]

People thinking Gale is not the victim in his story with Mystra are just plain stupid. They are completely missing the entire game's singular theme, the one thing connecting all the main characters, the one word spoken by the Narrator repeatedly:

AUTHORITY

[enterwittyjokehere]

[Angsty Gale won the poll, have fun with his mage hand guys. ;)]

Dread Alter of The Heart

[Gale (of waterdeep) Dekarios x afab reader smut]

[⚠️Warnings⚠️]

[Agrument]

[Mentions of death and being blown up]

[Angry at old man]

[Early act two spoilers!!!]

[Heavy smut 18+ only]

[Teasing]

[Incorrect use of mage hand]

“I am so very sorry, Gale..” The old man's words filled you with a burning rage, a pit that sat in the top of your chest, right next to your heart, and made fiery tears fill your eyes. The dangerous emotion was clear to both of the wizards surrounding you, Gale was more concerned by the sudden uncharacteristic change in your demeanor. 

Gale’s warm hand moved to sit on your shoulder, in an attempt to provide a bit of emotional support and to try and quell your worsening rage. The large hand rubbed at the bone of your shoulder, you only shrugged it off as you took a step closer to Elminster.

Fists balled and face getting redder by the second, you pointed a finger past the old man, “Get out of my camp.” 

You said it as calmly as you could, the anger inside of your chest making you less than rational. A hand firmly grabbed at your wrist, “(y/n), please, Elminster is a dear friend.”

Turning to face Gale, you furrowed your eyebrows, “No, Gale, friends don't randomly show up, eat all your food and then tell you to kill yourself, not good friends at least.”

“As previously stated I am so very sorry, Gale, truly.” You shot the old wizard a glare.

After being reprimanded by Gale once again, you retreated, stomping off to your tent. Letting the flap of fabric, used as the door, fall down, you sat upright on your bedroll, head hung low.

The feelings you held for your party's wizard were so blatant and obvious, the whole team was aware. Hearing what has to come next made you fearful, to say the least. Holding your hands up to your face, your bundle of stressful emotions left through your eyes.

The looming spectre, known as the fear of rejection, had kept you from ever allowing Gale to know your true feelings. Even now as he was going to put the half assed forgiveness from a goddess, who has done nothing but abuse and misuse both him, his trust and his magickal abilities over the life he lives currently and more importantly to you, the one he could live, after this was all over, with you.

Not knowing if he would even accept your love now that his goddess was back in the equation. All the hard work you had put into your delusions of a content life with a sweet wizard husband poured down the drain. Almost left you feeling like you belonged in the sewers of Baldr’s gate.

Reveling in your reminiscent remorse took you out of your surroundings and your tears became sobs. The emotional waves that washed over you felt uncontrollable, almost inconsolable, as though no one could help, the dreaded feeling of losing Gale, all to win the favor of some goddess, left you in hysterics.

Sobbing into your hands, you sniffled and swore under your breath, left startled by a sharp clearing of a throat outside your tent. 

“(Y/n)... Can I speak with you?” Gale muttered, then pausing to wait for your response, your startled demeanor fluctuated, relief poured into you when Gale’s voice was heard and then you remembered that you are almost in no shape to speak to him.

Eyes puffy and nose running, you were aware that your disheveled state was obvious and yet when Gale asked to talk you could never say no. The butterflies started without even having to look at him, knowing right now he was outside your tent waiting to speak with you made you giddy. 

“Sh*t-! Yes, Gale. Just… um- give me a second.” You said, hurriedly, wiping your red tearstained face on the sleeve of your cotton camp clothes. 

Opening the flap of the tent, you stepped out into Gale's view. He frowned for a second, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Have you been crying?” 

You glanced up at him, biting onto your bottom lip in an attempt to quell the next round of tears. Nodding your head slightly, before your attempt to stop your overflowing emotions failed, Gale wrapped an arm around you pulling you into an embrace.

“I should be the one crying, I'll be the one that has to… you know.” He said, laughing slightly, before making a worried face.

You didn't have to see his face to know what he did, he was so predictable in everything, or maybe you just knew him well enough. Sniffling slightly you shook your head, “No. I won't let you. We'll find another way.” 

“I am afraid that's not your place, my friend.” Gale said, pulling away from you.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping tightly onto the sleeve of his shirt, your face wet from tears. You shuttered when his big brown eyes found your own, “...Gale, I'm in love with you.”

The words had slipped out before you could stop them, the tone of your voice was as though that was a reason for him to let you stop him. 

Gale's lips curled into a small smile, yet his eyes were still sad, “I know.” 

His words were gentle and sweet, he wrapped his arms around you again, before speaking once more, “and maybe had I not been cursed with this ‘divine purpose’ we could've had each other.”

More tears pushed over the threshold, your hands attempted to retract from Gale's shoulders. He watched as your lip began to quiver and you backed away, “Or you could've chosen me… instead of a goddess who has done nothing for you.” 

You tried to turn around, away from Gale, but he grabbed your wrist, “Please, you should know I cannot disobey Mystra, she is magick and magick is-”

“Your life?” You finished, knowing where his words would end, “That's what I wanted too.” 

Ripping your hand away from the wizard, you wiped your tears. Turning around, only to have Gale's hands latch onto your wrist holding you firmly in place. His eyes peered into you, pleading for you to listen. Yet the hurt in your heart hid his heart from your eyes, your clouded mind forbade you from taking the wizard as who he truly was.

“(Y/n), please, don't be like this..” Gale called, “I love you too, you make me happier than anyone else, I would love nothing more than to make you mine and allow all of Faerûn that knowledge and yet-”

“Gale, Please, you said quite enough, already.” The belated words hurt more than they should have, Gale's attempt to rekindle a flame he had just extinguished only killed the dying sparks further. 

Gale placed a hand to his chest, his now sad eyes peering into you, “I love you, too, please.” 

You shook your head, “No, if you loved me I would mean more to you than-” 

“Mystra means very little to me-! But if this is the only way to save Faerûn, to save everyone… including you, I have to do it. It's my responsibility…” Gale said, grabbing at the orb that decorated both the inside and outside of his chest, “Please… I love you.” 

“You've said that… Gale-” 

Your words were swiftly cut short as Gale's warm hands found your face, cupping the soft tearstained flesh. He pushed his forehead to your own, “Please, allow me a chance is all I ask…”

You stayed silent, Gale tilted your head slightly and pressed a hot kiss to your forehead. 

His eyes found your own again, “Tonight there is no orb, no absolute just you and me… We can worry about Elminster and Mystra's demand when the need for such an action arises.” 

Your eyes filled with tears once more, you blinked as they rolled down your cheeks. Only to be wiped away by Gale's thumb, “No need for tears, my darling, please.”

You looked up into Gale's eyes, he took the moment to smile down at you before pressing his lips to your own, kissing you properly. Your hand slipped behind his shoulder, holding onto the fabric of his shirt, holding the fabric tightly you pulled Gale off of you.

“If I allow you this-”

“If we find another way to defeat this thing… consider it done, orb and Gale, both still intact.” Gale said, his eyes staring into you.

“And Mystra?”

“What of her?” Gale questioned where you were going with your words.

“I’m sure she won’t be pleased with me taking her sweet little lapdog.”

“Then, she should have considered that before tossing me aside.” Gale spoke, placing a short lived kiss to your lips, “Its as you said, why kill myself to please a Goddess, who has done less for me than the sweet adventurer i’ve grown to know and love.”

“Stop with the flattery and kiss me already, wizard.” You teased, Gale smiled, placing his hands on your hips and doing exactly as you told him. Leaning over to meet you in another kiss, your hands found his shoulders as Gale pulled your body closer. 

The closeness of the two of you made you needy as you would move and tease both of you, small whines trickling from your throat. Gale moved a hand to rest on the inside of your thigh pulling your leg over his hip, you would move occasionally brushing against his growing er*ct*on. The thoughts that ran through his head were less than savory, your free hand tangling in his long hair. While his lips devoured your own, his tongue ravaged the inside of your mouth, searching the cavern thoroughly. 

Gale pulled away from the kiss, panting like a dog, “Gods, we should at least get inside before continuing, if you wish to continue..” His words lingered; they carried insecurity but also curiosity as though he was searching for your consent, eager to know your wishes.

 Perhaps he wondered if you wanted him as much as he wanted you, a small smile found your face, “Oh, please Gale, you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

You backed into the tent, moving against him as soon as he entered, kissing him roughly, once more. Gale’s hands fluttered to your hips, holding you flush to his body, smiling into the embrace.

Inside the tent, Gale placed you down on a large wooden chest. His heavy breathing and lidded eyes made your stomach curl in excitement. 

“Lay down, my precious.” He said, placing a kiss to the back of your hand, “By the gods, you're perfect.”

His words were expelled in a groan as you followed his instructions, laying back in the cold wood of the chest. Gale's steady hands began disrobing you, he unbuttoned and pulled off your trousers. 

Before he started on your undergarments he licked the pad of his thumb, pushing it to your clothed core. You squirmed at the action, pulling a small chuckle from the wizard's lips, “Patience, I will not keep you waiting long.” 

He pulled away from you, and began slipping out of his robe, then he hastily unbuttoned his own trousers. Discarding both of the garments onto the floor of your tent, he smiled down at you palming the growing tent in his purple underwear.

You pushed onto your elbows watching him, licking your lips as your eyes traced over his crotch. Gale moved closer to you, his hands enveloping your clothed chest, playing with the soft flesh, “Your turn.” 

His simper was ravenous, like he could devour you whole. He moved closer, kneeling onto the chest, his body hanging over your own. 

The closer Gale got to you the worse your craving for him panged in your aching core. It didn't help that when he pressed a long cascading kiss to your lips, his knee pressed into your lower body, rubbing your warm core. Gale would pull away and come right back into the kiss, igniting a passionate fire beneath him.

Each time the wizard would pull away from your embrace, muttering your praises, only to reignite the kiss. His hand pumping around his hard c**k, groaning into the kiss, “G-Gale, please…”

His lidded eyes opened, staring down at you, nodding slightly before he pulled away. Gale quickly slipped off the briefs, kneeling down at the edge of the chest, he took a finger slipping off your underwear. The wizard's free hand cast mage hand, a spell resulting in a small ghostly hand to appear, with a flick of his free hand the mage hand slipped over your chest. Playing with your nipples, the blue hand teased your hardening bud.

Gale smiled at the sounds the spell elicited, moving his free hand to hold down one of your legs, while spreading your lower lips open. Your attempt at keeping your eyes on Gale failed as he moved into your core, suckling sweetly on the aching bud in your lower body. 

The more ragged and feral your moans for him became the quicker his hand at the base of his own pleasure moved. He mumbled and moaned into your core as you rocked your hips against his face, in an attempt to secure more pleasure for yourself.

“You're more than I could ever need, don't you ever forget that.” Gale moaned out, his tongue assaulting your sensitive c*nt.

“Yeah and that's why you're going to find another way, right?”

“Whatever you ask of me.” He said, before standing up to fully penetrate your lower body.

Your hands found his forearms, while Gale's hands settled on the dips of your hips, you moaned out before biting your lip to quell your noises.

“Let's make this quick, yeah?” Gale said as he rocked in and out of you, “I don't think I can last much longer.”

The friction between the two of you was ecstatic, the building knot in your lower stomach pleaded to be broken. The blue hand Gale had summoned, moved down to where your bodies met, rubbing the abused bundle of nerves Gale had previously been sucking on.

With a jolt of your hips your climax hit, Gale almost immediately succumb to the warmth squeezing feeling of you tensing around him. Sloppily thrusting in, he chased the high while you squirmed beneath him, overstimulation threatened to ruin your moment.

“I hope we didn't wake the others.” You spoke your voice shaky.

Gale looked up at you, kissing you gently, “To the hells with them.”

[triassictriserratops]

If the books are Katniss’s memo, we could headcanon Peeta having a personal annotated version with small notes of his perspective and opinions. 😕 faces at the Gale kisses. Flirty teasing each time Katniss is obliviously fawning over him. Sweet notes each time Katniss shows how much she needs him. I don’t even know what he would do with the beach scene

In response to what I think is this thread. (and this offshoot thread) ANON. MY DARLING ANON. MY SWEET BABY ANGEL ANON.

ANON YOU'VE GIVEN ME SUCH A WONDERFUL IDEA AND I LOVE YOU FOREVER. Hokay. So (Dis is Earth) WHAT IF WE ANNOTATE A DOC OF THE BOOKS AS IF WE'RE PEETA READING IT AND LEAVING LITTLE NOTES FOR KATNISS TO READ IN THE MARGINS?!?!?!?

Who would want to read this?????

WHO WOULD WANT TO WORK ON THIS WITH ME?????

Tagging @waywardangel-wilds and @sameschmidtdiffname right off the bat as tributes because HOLY SHIT this has the potential for GREAT hilarity.

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Prologue

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Misc references & details

Summary:  Set after the events of the war Gale and Lorena are recovering from what they thought life would be and their new realities. Gale and Lorena were deeply in love with their respective significant others before the war, they had big dreams and grand plans for their futures together. Only it was not to be. Gale turns into a bit of a recluse and takes to a Lakeside retreat in the mountains away from city life when things with Marge don’t go as planned. After a hard breakup and subsequent divorce from her husband Lorena ends up at Gale’s retreat looking for work and a place to stay. This is an angsty fic that follows the themes of love, loss and recovering from trauma. 

Pairing: Gale Cleven (MOTA Austin Butler) x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings:  Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love, angst

--------------------------------Prologue----------------------------------

It had happened so fast, the war that had changed everything. The war that broke men, women and children. That forced people so far away from lives of relative peace into lives of rations, scarcity and pain. Lorena had been married then before the call for men had happened. Happily married. Reggie was the reason she drew breath and she the reason he existed.  They’d been a loving couple, they were young beautiful, happy, full of life with the brightest of futures. They were on everybody’s list of dinner party guests. They shared hearty laughs and passionate nights and if anyone could have bet on a couple that would have made it, it would have been them.

Only it wasn’t to be.

Wars change even the best of men, after the first year Lorena’s dedication to writing daily never wained. She held everything inside, pouring her heart over the pages and keeping him informed. In month nine Reggie’s letters became less frequent, she felt the distance in the passages, in the reduced length of each reply and the heat fading from every I love you.

The news reports only confirmed that the boys were enduring a shellacking unlike anything known to men. Meetings with the other wives lessened as time passed as well. Some of their husbands had returned home broken. Missing limbs, too far gone to continue the good fight.  With each influx of broken men it seemed the women around her only broke more and more. Sadness became a close friend and like many of the others Lorena picked up the habit of a cigarette and some whisky to lull her her sleep at night. Her home also became a refuge for those wives whose husbands returned as violent strangers, trained and efficient at killing.

Year two Reggies letters slowed to a few times a month. Still Lorena maintained her frequency as a good wife should. Her proclamations of love more and more sincere as she recalled their fondest times together in her memories and she yearned for him to return safely. His safety was paramount. She was ready for the war to be over, for her love to return and for a fresh start. The two years had withered her, her hands had become warn from the loss of their housekeeper. Her dresses worn in from their repeated use and the lack of funds and seamstresses. It also felt frivolous to spend on dresses without the person she wanted to admire her in them.

Her journals pages filled with her inner thoughts and the feelings too desperate to be shares, her hopes, fears and suspicions. Carmen Kloss’ husband had called her another woman’s name in the throes of passion. When he came back to reality and saw his wife he left their marital bed to cry outside.  After an awful row Carmen discovered that there was another woman, a laundress stationed near him while he was recovering from wounds. There was an affair and a child on the way until she was killed by a bombardment. Now they lived in the same house with a Great Wall of distance between them no better than strangers. Long gone were the two people who cared for each other tremendously.

Heartbreak was all around. Still Lorena put it away and when the ships arrived after victory had returned she was hysterical to have her man return whole and of sound mind. Reggie had held her so tight, he stared all day and night like she was this elusive creature, like she would disappear and he’d wake up to find himself in a dream if he dared looking away. It was good for the first month until a letter came in the post. A perfumed letter. That night he’d come to bed and fell asleep without holding her. He began smoking more, all of a sudden he was full of stress and exhaustion. The ruse was gone the more people came to look for him. It was clear to Lorena that there was a tremendous amount of life that she would never become privy to. Conversation became far and few until the flame was all but extinguished. Somehow the pain of him present but so far way hurt more then his time away at war. Her heart knew it was another woman when he finally seemed to breathe at the arrival of her letters.

“I won’t hold an affair against you if it was what you needed to survive the war and feel comfort” she said finally breaking the silence between them. His head fell with shame immediately confirming her every suspicion.

“Lo” he said.

“You don’t have to explain, I just need you to be here. To want to be here and to love me” she whispered.

“I do want you Lorena” he’d responded voice cracking. 

Therein lied the conflict. His heart was split but not as hers was.

“I love you Lorena, I’ll always love you” he said with commitment. He had, it was true. At least it had been once, she was sure of it. It was in the way he walked, talked and looked at her but now that warmth was reserved for when he was penning replies to his wartime lover’s letters.

His words said one things and his actions another. The other husbands looked at her differently as she entered dinner parties, the wives looked at her with empathy instead of longing jealousy. It was clear and when the younger version of her walked through the doors of the banquet hall and his eyes lit up it was all the heartbreak she would take. She walked seven miles back to the house in her heels and dress. She had asked god to bring him back whole and sane and the lord had answered the prayers. The man she loved with everything in her was alive and well and she could be thankful for that. As much as her heart and feet ached that night she could not hate him or the other woman for being the reason they’d survived the war. All the killing, bloodshed and loss was something she could never imagine. He was still all she needed but the distance was too much and Lorena could no longer stomach it. Stomach knowing what a night of passion was like with her husband who could only now drape an arm around her sparing a few chaste kisses a week. The man who’d been adamant about trying for a child as soon as he returned but couldn’t get the deed done anymore.

It wasn’t lack of kindness of affection, his tone was still loving and his touches gentle, he was still a considerate husband. He was still far better than most but there was an absence of that unmistakable spark that existed between them that had once burned bright. He’d arrived home to her cleaning her bloody feet riddled with concern. Lorena refused all his questions on what happened. He’d cleaned the scars diligently. He was attentive to her every breath. That night he’d held her close concerned for her well being. She spent an hour in the bathroom crying in the shower.

“Reggie, I know you love me but I know you’re in love with her and I cannot in good conscience stay here when you’ve been through enough anguish and deserve to be truly happy.” Her words broke him. The tears that flow were only confirmation she’d never seen him cry, she couldn’t shed a tear or he’d never leave and remained committed to his vows. It would be a tragedy she could never survive. Lorena was strong but she could never be that strong. She refused the house and all of its valuables taking two cases of tattered dresses and garments and a sac of other keepsakes dear to her. In the matter of hours she’d gone from a well kept wife who’d never done a day of labour in her 25 years to a homeless divorcee. 

Her plan was simple, drive as far as the car could take her on her savings, find a place to stay and respectable work. The rest would have to follow. Her parents would only cause scandal and exasperate the situation between her and Reggie. The last thing she wanted was chatter surrounding her failed marriage while her heart was on the mend.

Author's Note: Very different from Feyd's Blade, ik ik, but the hopelessness in the soldiers eyes during the prison camp scenes of masters of the air pulled at my heart strings and so I needed to write about that return to normal. Gale is in the next part.

[completely-legit]

As much as I love the BG3 community on Reddit, stuff like this really bothers me.

1.6k people have so little media literacy they think Gale being Mystra's kept wizard in Elysium after all she put him through somehow constitutes a good ending.

Like seriously wtf. No one would consider sending Astarion back to Cazador a good ending, even if Cazador magically offered to make him a true vampire.

Don't get me started on all the jokes about Wyll having the hots for Mizora. At least those are "jokes".

If nothing else this game has really opened my eyes to how utterly ignored men's abuse at the hand of a woman abuser is. Makes me sick.

[adarlingmess]

Happy Valentine's Day! Have some Baldur's Gate 3 cheesy romance novel cover parodies >:3c

[dragonagitator]

Since people enjoyed this post so much, perhaps you will also enjoy this snippet from my "Modern Girl in Faerun" author self-insert isekai WIP.

For context, it's the first long rest, and we've been to the Grove but haven't encountered Karlach yet.

Scene under the cut. Criticism welcome!

The fire was warm, but the ground was hard and cold, and my scavenged bedroll was too thin to provide much cushioning.

"Gale?" I broke the silence after a couple of minutes of tossing and turning.

"Mmm?" he responded sleepily from his side of the fire.

"Why are we sleeping on these bedrolls when you can summon beds? Because I know you can summon beds, I've seen you do it in my previous, um, 'time loops.'"

"Ah, well, while I could certainly 'summon' a bed, it would only stay 'summoned' for as long as I am able to concentrate on maintaining the spell," he explained. "So, as soon as I were to slip into slumber, the bed would wink out of existence, and its occupant would tumble to the ground rather abruptly. Counterproductive to a restful night's sleep, as I'm sure you would agree."

"Oh, that makes way more sense than my theory," I said.

"Oh? And what was your theory?" Gale sounded excited over the prospect of having someone to discuss magical theory with.

'Oh, my adorable nerd,' I thought fondly.

"That the spell's somatic component was an erection," I teased.

Wyll erupted into peals of laughter while Gale sputtered indignantly.

"What? No! Why would you -- that is absolutely not how it works -- whatever in the world gave you that idea?" Gale demanded.

"Context," I replied mysteriously.

"Will you lot be quiet?" Shadowheart interjected disapprovingly. "We've all had a long day, and it sounds like we have many more long days ahead of us. We need rest, not this late-night foolishness."

"You know, for someone who doesn't remember shit, you sure do a keen impression of a Mother Superior scolding the girls' dormitory," I retorted sulkily.

"The istik priest speaks truth. We would be wise to rest while we can," Lae'zel chimed in.

'Dang, Lae'zel and Shadowheart agreeing on something already? I'm such a uniter! Look at me speedrunning their friendship!' I began giggling to myself.

"SHUT. UP!" Astarion snapped.

'I don't know what he's so pissy about. He only needs, what, like 4 hours of meditation? Oh, wait, he's probably hungry and waiting for us to fall asleep so he can sneak off to hunt. Right.'

"Goodnight, everyone," I sing-songed sweetly.

Wyll's muffled snickering gradually faded as he regained his composure, leaving nothing but the sound of the crackling fire.

'When I fall asleep here, will I wake up back in real life?' I wondered as I drifted off.

[amandacanwrite]

A Plain Stack of Parchment - Gale x Tav/reader

Pairing || Urchin Backstory Tav/Reader (unspecified gender) x Professor Gale

POV || Second Person

Length || 3,200 words

Scenario || Gale has tasked you with writing your wedding invites so that he can finally take them to the courier. The only problem is, you don't have anyone to send invites to. In hopes of smoothing over the conversation in which you finally tell him that you really don't have any family, you attempt to make dinner....and destroy his beautiful kitchen in the process.

A/n || This is my first piece of fanfic I've ever shared publicly, please be kind to me about it. I don't really know what the rules are. This has been brewing in my head for days, though and I must get it OUT.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” you’d asked. 

“Hah…I suppose I am,” he’d responded.

He’d carried on about how much Tara would love it, and of course his mother. Words to fill the silence while you’d found yourself bound in stunned silence; words to cover his nerves while you’d worked through the shock of having been asked to join his family. 

Family…a real family. You’d never had one before. It had been an easy answer to give, a joyful one to give. 

“I accept. I’ll marry you, Gale Dekarios.”

He’d begun to prattle on again in that way that you’d loved and it’d been impossible not to smile as he spoke about arrangements. That was until he’d said it. 

“--And you’ll have invites of your own to send out, I’m sure…but that’s all to come.”

You’d not had much time to worry about it, though. Moments later he was kissing you, his fingers curled into the hair at the nape of your neck in that way that always made you melt. You could worry about this conversation another time, you’d told yourself. 

But that time never came around. Gale had accepted his position as professor at Blackstaff, and you both had spent so many long nights on repairing the crown of Karsus so that he could finally be free of netherese magic inhabiting the space so dangerously close to his heart. The day Mystra cured him was one you’d remember forever, because you were both finally free of not only the danger looming over your love for one another, but from the ghost of the past Mystra had been since you’d met him. 

But now? Now you felt regret. 

Gale was working late–a problem student he took on as a project needed his help. He implored you for the umpteenth time to please finish your invitations. They really must be sent out, dearest, if our families are to have time to travel for the wedding. 

How could you tell him you had nothing to send out? How could you explain that you didn’t come with a family; didn’t come with any kind of support system? 

His mother had accepted you as one of her own so quickly. Tara had become just as doting and fussy over you as over the wizard himself. But you couldn’t give him that in return–with your there would be no inlaws, no great aunts, no distant cousins…no grandparents should you decide to have a family of your own one day…

You looked at the optimistic stack of parchment he’d left for you, the quills, two pots of ink. He’d even left you his very own signet ring to press the Dekarios clan crest into your sealing wax, so ready for you to join his family that he would let you claim his name prematurely. 

You wondered if that would change once he knew…once he knew that you’d always been scrappy and alone before the tadpoles and nautiloid brought you and the others together. That was why you’d done everything that you did. It was why you helped Astarion destroy Cazador, why you did everything you could to figure out how to fix Karlach’s infernal engine, even now. It’s why you lifted the shadowcurse for Halsin and helped Wyll rescue his father. It’s why you’d urged Shadowheart to endure the pain of her curse…

Because they all had family, and with time they’d become your family. You’d wanted so long to have one, to have a reason to be good. No one had ever asked after you–where you’d come from, how you became who you were. And you were relieved to not have to tell the truth of the matter. 

You were unloved. 

Thrown away by a mother who couldn’t care for you and living off of scraps you could find in the streets or coin you could slip out of the pockets of strangers. 

So all you could do was stare at that pile of parchment and try to scrape every recess of your memory for anyone; any single godsdamned person to send a wedding invitation to. Damn Gale Dekarios for sending off the ones for your old companions. At least you would have had something to show when he got home today. 

In the end, you gave up. You took the time to put the fine linen parchment away and place the ink pots back on the shelf with the others. You placed the sharpened quills back in the glass goblet he kept dozens of others and…and simply placed the signet ring in the middle of his writing desk where he’d left you hours before. 

And then you decided you would make dinner. 

Gale always cooked, even after his longest of days. You’d offered to do it many times but he always insisted that he liked to cook. That he liked to feed you. 

But the sun was setting lazily behind the Waterdhavian horizon, and Gale was certain to be exhausted after dealing with his problem student all evening. Dinner was the least you could do. Sure, you were never much of a cook, but it couldn’t be that hard to roast a chicken and some vegetables, right? There was certainly no shortage of recipe books in the tower. You were the savior of Baldur’s Gate, you’d taken down an elder brain! Certainly you could figure out cooking a bird. 

You got to work. 

Things seemed to be going pretty alright at the start of it, too. Coat the skin in butter and herbs; check. Scallop the potatoes; check? At least you thought that’s what a scalloped potato looked like. Blanch the asparagus…what did blanching mean?    

 Okay. No asparagus then. Gale could be a meat and potatoes man for one night, couldn’t he?

When you put the chicken and potatoes in the oven to roast and started working on reducing some red wine and spices for a sauce that things started to go south. Things started to go south very, very fast.

First, you realized the red you grabbed was not a Waterdhavian red as you’d thought, but a bottle of fire wine. Fire wine was already heavily spiced, so the the spices you added would be too much. Okay, okay–so, you would try again. 

But when you lifted the saucepan to…hide the evidence somewhere, you also spilled that fire wine directly onto the stove, directly into the flame. You eyes landed on the quickly spilling liquid just as the puddle ignited.

“Oh, for fuc–”

The explosion was nothing less than spectacular; it sent you sprawling across the room, smashing into the brick wall on the other end of the kitchen. The room filled up with black smoke as you tried and failed to get back up to your feet. Your head was spinning and you could barely get a breath in your lungs. 

Shit, shit, shit. You needed to get up. You needed to get up and figure out how to clean this up before Gale got home. He was no stranger to explosions, sure. But gods help the man or woman that prevented him from making his morning cup of tea and enjoying it at the kitchen table. 

You steeled yourself. “Come on. Savior of Baldur’s gate. Come on, get up,” you said. 

But as you slowly got up onto shaky legs you heard a familiar voice booming through the room. A second later, a great storm cloud formed above you and then doused the room in torrential rain. Your soft-soled boots caught on the wet tile floor and you slipped, falling to the ground again. Gale had casted Create Water. 

“Nine hells,” he shouted as he ran over to you, cupping your sooty face in his rough hewn hands. “Are you alright, my love?”

His hands patted over your body, then. Your arms, your hands, bending and extending your legs, checking your ribs. “Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed out. “Just…wet. And embarrassed.”

“Better than being incinerated. Did I leave something out–we’re working on disarming traps in class and–”

“No, no,” you said. “I–I was just trying to make dinner.”

His face contorted into an expression that looked almost affronted. “Make dinner?” he said, sounding confused. 

He looked back at the smouldering wreckage of his kitchen. “Oh no,” he said as he slumped onto his knees and slipped his hands into his wavy, brown hair. “What have you done?”

He must not have fully registered the room he’d doused, which you supposed was very sweet in it’s own way. He’d only hurried to make sure you were okay, he didn’t think for a moment on the damage. At least not at first. 

“I just…I thought that you would like to come home to dinner prepared for you, for once. I was trying to surprise you,” you said. 

“Well you most certainly succeeded in that, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone biting. “This is just what I needed after dealing with Jeremi all day. To leave a destroyed classroom to come home to a destroyed kitchen. Just–fantastic.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just–”

“Tell me that you at least got your invitations done,” he snapped. “That this wasn’t some sorry excuse for a distraction from planning our wedding? That you didn’t destroy my kitchen and almost kill yourself and potentially Tara so that you could claim you forgot again?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes tired and a little sad. You almost wished you had been incinerated. You knew he didn’t need to use Detect Thoughts to read your mind. You were certain your expression said it all. 

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he said as he stood up and started cataloging the extent of the damage. 

You knew he’d just had a bad day, that the vitriol was more because of the late hours and the unpleasant surprise. The sharpness of his tone still cut like a knife. It was all you could do to sit there and watch him clean up after you. 

You usually loved to watch him do little mundane tasks with his magic. You found the delicate flourishes of his hands so charming, loved the spark of joy in his eyes as the weave spun to meet him. But watching him now, watching his sharp, staccato movements as he zipped recipe books back into place and disappeared broken glass into some pocket dimension…you felt like an utter failure of a partner to him. 

You just sat there while he worked, wanting to get up and help, but afraid that another sharp comment would eviscerate you. You’d had disagreements with him before, of course. And he had been sharp with you about a few of your more adventurous choices (he still brought up the time you licked a dead spider once in a while.) But he had never been truly, truly angry with you. Not like this. 

He opened the demolished stove and took out the raw bird sitting on the bed of potatoes. He hissed out a tight breath and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I have a feeling I am not ready to hear the answer to this question, but have you changed your mind?” he asked. 

The question took you by surprise. “Changed my mind?” you asked. “About what?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, looking at you. “About the wedding. About…about marrying me.”

“What?” you asked. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind, why would you ever think something like that? I’m more excited than I’ve ever been to be a part of your family.”

“Then why?” he asked. “Why have you been avoiding writing your invitations. I have asked you to do them at least half a dozen times now, and every time you have some excuse to tell me. ‘Oh, I just got caught up in this book.’ ‘Sorry, dearest–the tadpole headache strikes again.’ And now? Now dinner?”

“Is it a crime for me to want to make dinner for my intended?” you said. 

“My love. My flawless, exquisite, darling,” he said. “You are many things. A gifted fighter, an astonishing leader, an excellent dancer, and none too shabby beneath the sheets. But you. Are not. A cook. I allowed you to cook ONE time. A singular time in our travels together and do you remember what happened?”

You pouted. “Everyone got sick,” you grumbled in a low voice. 

“YES! Everyone GOT SICK,” he shouted. “Everyone got so sick that we had to spend THREE DAYS in camp. And do you remember what you swore to me that day?”

“That I would never cook for people again,” you said. 

“THAT YOU WOULD NEVER COOK FOR PEOPLE AGAIN!” he shouted triumphantly. “So then, why, my love. Why would you be cooking now if not to avoid sending your wedding invitations? And why would you want to avoid sending your invitations unless you had changed your mind about spending the remainder of your days with me?”

You nibbled on your lip and exhaled, looking down at your soot-covered hands. 

“I don’t…” you said, almost choking on the words, almost looking for a lie. “Gale, I don’t have anyone to send invitations to. And every time I think to tell you that, I get terrified that you’ll realize the mistake you made in proposing to someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“No one to send invitations to?” he asked, seeming surprised. He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow.  “No, I’m sure that isn’t true. We’ve talked about your family before, haven’t we?”

“Not that I remember,” you said. 

“During our travels, you…we…we shared stories,” he said. “All of those times around the campfire. The nights alone between us.”

You watched as his eyes became distant, as if he’s searching his memory for some cache of data he’s stored about you. He smoothed his hand over his chin before covering his mouth with his hand. His brow furrowed and his expression saddened before he dropped his hand and crossed his arms. 

“Gods,” he said. “Every story you told us, everything you shared…tales of treachery, of bar fights and street brawls, the times you told us you almost lost a hand. All the times you told us about those…strange meals you would scrounge up with that glimmer of warm nostalgia in your eyes.”

He walked slowly over to you and kneeled in front of where you sat, still soaked to the bone and covered in soot. He took your hand in his and squeezed your fingers. 

“I may be an impressive scholar, but I am a fool, my love,” he said. “All of this time together and I was always so caught up in how lovely it felt to be truly accepted and understood. All the times you told me that I was enough for you as I am and I couldn’t even spare the proper courtesy of asking you about your family. You must think me an ogre of a man.”

You forced a little airy laugh from your lungs and shrugged. “Not much to tell about,” you said weakly, swallowing as your throat became uncomfortably tight. “Nothing really at all.”

You bit the inside of your lip and looked down at your hands again, willing yourself not to cry. You promised yourself a long time ago not to cry over this anymore. No one got to pick their hand in life, it was useless to cry over it. 

Gale cupped your cheek in his hand, angling your chin up again so you’d meet his eyes again. “I asked you to write invites to a family you didn’t have. Then you tried to make dinner for me when you couldn’t do it, and I shouted at you for ruining my kitchen. Please forgive me, my love. I have been a miserable, self-centered ass.”

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for ruining your kitchen?” you offered.

“You have yourself a bargain,” he said.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first; chaste, even. It reminded you of your first kiss with the girl who sold papers in the lower city. But then it changed. He scooped the hand cupping your chin back into your hair, curling the locks around his fingers before smoothing his free hand up your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling you closer. 

He hitched you up onto his hips and stood, still surprisingly strong despite the more sedentary life you both were living these days. You draped your arms over his shoulders, loosely hooking your fingers together as you tilted your head, parting your lips to breathe in that ever present scent of cinnamon and warm tea. 

He let out a low hum, the sound of his buzzing against your mouth. 

He parted from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he sat you down on the charred countertop. “You are lovely,” he said. “Your beauty, your generosity? As intoxicating as any glass of wine.”

You let out a little huff and are surprised when you feel a few drops of wetness fall onto your cheeks. Gale tuts, backing up just far enough to swipe that wetness away with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I…I never cry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said. “Don’t you even think about it.”

You gave a sheepish smile and exhaled, nodding once. 

“You know what?” he said. “The kitchen can wait.”

“But your morning tea…” you said. 

“Tomorrow, you and I will get tea together at that little bakery I haven’t had a chance to show you, yet. And tonight? Tonight we’ll walk to the vendor down the road, we’ll get some delicious Waterdhavian street food and we won’t think at all about the origin of said food, trust me, it’s not worth it,” he said. “And then we will cuddle up on the balcony and I will ask you extensively and exhaustively about your life before you met me.”

“What if you don’t like what you hear?” you asked. “What if I was never honest, or smart? What if I didn’t have a wholesome youth like you did?”

“My love,” he said. “When you met me I was a man with a tadpole in my brain and an orb in my chest that would level the whole of Waterdeep if I didn’t eat your precious magic artefacts. I was a man who tried to become a god, and when I thought of making the same mistake a second time, you’re the one who talked sense back into me. You’re the one who showed me that I was worthy of love, just like this.”

You smiled and nodded as he kissed your forehead. “You’re a remarkable wizard of great renown,” you teased. 

“I’m just a man, and a teacher with a student who seems intent on torturing me,” he said. “I’m also remarkably humble.”

“And?” you said. 

“And nothing you do or say could make me stop loving you,” he said, “Not even you…destroying my beautiful, wonderful kitchen.”

“I thought I was forgiven,” you said with a look. 

“I have most certainly forgiven, but I have not yet forgotten, my love,” he said. 

“Perhaps I could remedy that tonight, after your questions,” you suggested, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Give you a bit of a distraction.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you made me forget something with your diversions,” he said. “That sounds like the perfect way to end the night.”

“Well, then, let’s get cleaned up and go buy some of that questionable food,” you said. 

“With pleasure.”

[heph]

do you think gale shadowheart and wyll would share smut recommendations with each other? based off that one party banter of wyll and shadowheart sharing lines from a smut novel they read

Yes! I have thoughts about this!

I think Astarion mostly reads non-fiction, books that inform him about the world around him, books about certain types of magic and bits of history. He reads a lot of it, but doesn't remember most of it. I think he reads mostly to forget his miserable existence back in Cazador's Palace.

Wyll and Shadowheart I think love their romance novels, spicy or otherwise. From fictitious Bawdry to fluff friends to lovers ^_^

My boy Gale stays flexy and likes both types! So he can have a book club w the romance girlies talking about the intricacies of the romantic novel of the week as well as a private one with Astarion to discuss stuff like history, where Astarion just listens to Gale info dump and occasionally asks questions or adds on tidbits to keep the conversation going

[mamasturn]

forever yours, major gale cleven

pairing: major gale cleven x eden marie cleven (amor aeternus universe on @saturnville)

content: Eden writes her husband a letter while he's deployed.

an: @turn-thy-paige had the idea to create a mini letter-writing series for John, Gale, and Curt. they've been done for a while, but I'm finally getting around to posting Gale's. + also, I changed Judy from the amor aeternus to Eden to have cohesiveness across both pages. hope you enjoy <3

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

To my beloved, Gale, the note read. 

Gracie saw your picture today on the dresser. She said your name. I’ve been hearing Dada all day. She cried until I let her hold the frame. She’s been running around the house with it all day. I wish you were here to hear it but at least you’ll hear it nonstop when you return. 

She looks a lot like you now. Her eyes get bluer by the day. I was hoping she’d have brown eyes like me, but, it’s okay. She still has my complexion and curly hair. A perfect blend of our love. 

We’re adjusting to you being gone. It’s still difficult, but, days aren’t as long and I can sleep through the night. Partly because I sleep in your clothes, but whatever brings comfort, right? 

Also, I have a surprise! I put pictures in the envelope.

Curiously, Gale’s fingers rummaged through the envelope. Two pictures snapped in grainy color. In the first photo, Gracie was on her mother’s hip, a dimpled smile on her face. They looked so happy, filled with joy as they stood in front of the house they’d made a home. Gale smiled. 

The second was a photo of his wife. She stood in front of the couch in their living room. On her body was a loosely fitted dress, one of her favorites. But, with her hands cupped around her midsection, he saw it. Her growing belly. The smile on her face was brighter than the sun. Another gift on the way. 

Gale bit along the corner of his lips as his eyes watered. His eyes shifted back to the letter.

Baby number two is on the way! I can’t believe I let you get me pregnant again. Anyway, doctors say I’m four months along, so there’s still some time. I’m just praying you’re home for the baby’s birth like you were for Gracie. But if anything, you’re always here in our hearts. 

I’m already thinking of names but I’ll save that for when I hear back from you. 

I love you, Gale. Gracie loves you. Baby loves you. Stay safe and make it home in one piece or I’ll kill you. 

Gale chuckled. How contradictory. 

I’ll see you soon.

Forever yours, 

Eden Marie