#i’m gonna romance gale again…

[memray]

have a lot of shit happening in my life rn

plus side is i figured out i can play bg3 on my laptop so i can play it whilst i’m home

i made a bard gnome called len for funsies

[hobbithoes]

bg3 made me wanna replay origins BAD so I made a new warden and then realized that was dumb bc I can only play origins on my bfs pc every couple days so I need to get back into baldurs gate but now I’m UNIMMERSED So i was gonna keep playing bg3 as my new warden but my playthrough rn is a DROW and so I can’t play as her bc her skin tone is NOTLOREFRIENDLY! Have to restart bg3 for the like 5th time… pls

[selunesfavouriteprincess]

my drow Tav is a lot of fun and also is going to have the messiest love life ever because she agreed to sleep with Lae’zel and then also had an erotically-charged magic lesson with Gale and on top of that she definitely has a massive crush on Minthara (enough so that she knocked her out instead of killing her), not knowing that she’ll see her again at Moonrise

[emietook]

Honour Mode attempt 1 has come to an end after 75ish hours, right at the tail end of Act 2.

It was the Myrkul fight. I knew it would be but it still sucks. It’s practically impossible on Balanced mode how am I supposed to do it on the hardest difficulty!?

…I’ll probably start attempt 2 after the Braves game

[eye-of-yelough]

i may have said Aeryn doesn’t work in da but that won’t stop me from giving the ole college try in inquisition again

[cambius]

finally home and playing some bg3, time to make my baby a durge.

[dekariosclan]

Having watched Gale’s ‘Evil Ending’, read a few spicy takes, and thought about it for a bit, I just want to point something out: every time Gale has any interactions with the Heavens/Elysium/The Gods, be it in-game or as an alternate ending, it’s not good for him, and he’s never truly happy.

Of course the Evil ending is the most extreme version with him straight up hating the Gods and waging war, but in addition, there’s also:

Gale having suffered during his time in Elysium as Mystra’s plaything Chosen

Gale becoming God of Ambition, but losing his family/ Tav

Gale becoming God of Ambition and ascending Tav, but him still being insecure/unsatisfied with himself, and possibly destroying the Pantheon

Gale dying from attempting to be a God and failing to dethrone Mystra

Gale dying after following Mystra’s orders to detonate the orb (causing many to suffer if done in Act 2, the very thing Gale NEVER wanted to happen)

Gale becoming Illithid and then being taken to Elysium with Mystra, in a scene which has which has chemistry lower than the Mariana trench and is possibly the unsexiest thing I have ever seen

So, when people say that Gale should forgive Mystra, become her Chosen again (which is spoken about on the docks in the ending where he returns the Crown to Mystra), and that the Evil Ending shows this is a ‘good’ thing…I’m not seeing it.

In contrast, I could talk about the ending where he leaves the Crown in the river, the orb remains in his chest, and how that works out great—he’s not beholden to Mystra, he’s happy and satisfied with himself/Tav/his life which results in the orb being dormant, then later Mystra cures the damn thing permanently anyway, AND he gets to have a cool scar that keeps his students in check, and also definitely lights up when he’s horny for Tav, etc. etc.

But I’m gonna go one step further and talk about what happens when Gale goes to Hell. Yes, Hell. Literal, actual Hell, the farthest place from Heaven, which is what happens when he is romanced by origin Karlach and he goes with her to Avernus.

Remember how every iteration of Gale in Heaven results in him being unhappy in some way? Here’s Gale in Hell with his beloved Karlach:

He is happy as a clam!

Tara visits them frequently!

There’s even a f*cking bookstore!

In Conclusion:

If you want Gale to be truly happy, KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE GODS.

[trappedinafantasy37]

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep so I’m just gonna start rambling about what’s on my mind. You wanna know what that is? Isobel. To be specific, Durge and Isobel.

Since my very first Durge run, it never quite made sense to me as to why the Urge would specifically want you to kill Isobel. Up until that point, the Urge has kinda been impulsive and acted without thought. But with Isobel, that’s very deliberate. Sceleritas Fel literally shows up in the middle of the night and gives you a name and a face. That’s never happened before. With Alfira, she was just a victim of convenience. Same thing with Gale, Arabella, the squirrel the grove, all victims of convenience. None of their deaths were planned before hand, but Isobel’s very much is premeditated and the only one that is.

But, there is something about the interaction with Fel that is super easy to overlook. If you talk to Fel about Isobel before you actually meet Isobel, you can ask him as to why you should kill her. He tries to reason with you by saying that the inn will fall if she dies and it will be a mass spectacle of murder... How the fuck does Fel know that? You aren’t even informed of that possibility of the inn falling upon her death until you meet Isobel herself.

Even if you don’t talk to Fel before hand and you meet Isobel first, the Urge and the narrator constantly keep trying to push you into killing Isobel. Now, the narrator does kinda goad Durge a lot, but not quite as much as when interacting with Isobel.

If you choose not to kill Isobel, Fel shows back up again and tells you of another premeditated murder and that is your companion with the highest affinity, or your romantic partner. Again, very weird. With Isobel, it’s a premeditated murder that you are in control of. But with your favorite person, it’s premeditated, but you’re not in control. But why? Sure, you can believe Fel at his word when he says that your body craves violence and it hasn’t gotten its full when you chose not to kill Isobel. But, it could be anybody. You can satiate your bloodlust on literally anybody. So, why your favorite companion?

It’s almost like the urge can only be satiated with your favorite companion because something, or someone, is punishing you for not killing Isobel. But again, why is Isobel so god damn fucking important?

If you kill Isobel or you kill your romance partner, you are granted the Slayer form. Yay! But there’s a very unique scenario that can happen in which you can be granted the Slayer form without killing Isobel yourself and that is if you allow Shadowheart to become a Dark Justiciar. This, I always found to be super weird. Technically, Shadow is responsible for the death of Isobel, and yet, you get rewarded for it anyway and your urge is considered satiated even though you didn’t directly do anything.

If your approval with Shadow is like 40 or higher, by default, she will always choose to spare the Nightsong on her own. Which means if you are above the 40 threshold, the only way Shadow becomes a DJ is if you tell her to. So, although you didn’t kill Isobel, you become indirectly responsible for her death which is why you get rewarded.

But you love doing the direct killing themselves. You love getting your hands wet with blood and gore. And this indirect route is… well… too clean for you. If anything, it’s Shadow’s hands that are bloody, not yours. So, why is your urge satiated when you didn’t do the killing yourself and the blood isn’t even on your hands?

That’s because the murder of Isobel is a fucking hit job. It’s an assassination. It doesn’t matter how she dies or when she dies, just that she dies. Now, I’m sure that this really isn’t some kind of monumental revelation, but the Urge is Bhaal. In the moments where you lose control, yeah, that’s Bhaal basically possessing you. It makes sense as to why you’re forced to target your favorite person after failing to kill Isobel, Bhaal is pissed that you disobeyed and is trying to teach you a lesson.

But, it also means that, for whatever reason, Bhaal wants Isobel dead. The only explanation I have is because it fucks over Ketheric which by consequence fucks over Myrkul. And we know for sure that the Dead Three and their Chosen entered into this alliance with the intention of betraying the other two eventually. It also pieces together how Fel knows that killing Isobel guarantees the fall of the inn and that’s because Bhaal knows. Marcus has been hanging around the inn for some time so he would already know of Isobel’s importance to the inn and relayed that information to Ketheric. It’s very much possible that Orin could have stumbled upon that info herself, or even pre-lobotomy Durge.

But, Bhaal is the pure definition of chaotic stupid. Killing Isobel in of itself doesn’t necessarily hurt Ketheric. In fact, when she dies, he may not always know. I think the only way that he does know that Isobel is dead is if Marcus ends up taking her corpse back to Moonrise in which Ketheric resurrects her and puts a worm in her brain. At that point, he can guarantee that not only will Isobel always be alive, but she will always be by his side. It’s pretty morbid and fucked up, but it actually ends up strengthening Ketheric.

Anyways, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I’ve been awake for 22 hours. Sorry if the rambling is a little incoherent. I just really had to get this shit outta my head. Now, I’m gonna go lay in bed and stare at the ceiling for another 3 hours cause I’m still not tired.

[sxddekarios]

a very wholesome magic lesson

i am back with a bg3 rebranding!! this is the first fic i've ever wrote, and it's my take on Gale's act 1 romance scene at the tiefling party. Him and Tav are both oblivious to the others' feelings. read on ao3 or here!

2.2k words (of fluff)

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“I think it’s best in my condition if I don’t get too excited,” Gale reminds himself.

“Well, who said anything about excitement? Surely you’re not *that* keen on a little magic trick. I’ve seen you do plenty of other magic.” Tav responds with her signature furrowed brows.

“It’s not … the magic, per-say. More what comes with it. Though perhaps I’ve had too much wine for this conversation.” Gale attempts to stop him self, as he usually does when he’s bitten off a bit too much to chew in the flirting department.

“For what conversation? I just want to learn some more magic. There’s no way I can go enjoy our celebration, and sleep, after this cliffhanger…” Tav trails off, trying to bait him into explaining without having to fish too directly (or embarrassingly) for it.

Gale raises an eyebrow at Tav, knowing that he’s never been able to turn down an ask of hers before. He got into this mess with the orb by being a pleaser, after all. “Have a glass of wine and I’ll see if I can handle making this much of an ass of myself” Gale sighs.

Tav grabs his glass of wine and takes a tentative sip. She makes a face, disgusted by the tartness. Luckily, she manages to swallow the offending liquid. “This is all you’re getting from me, I’m afraid. Unless you can magic this into something bearable, or you’re hiding some other vices somewhere in that tent of yours, you’re gonna have to deal with talking to a sober person right now.”

Gale looks at her in mock astonishment — “Have you no taste? Have you never drank wine before? This is a *delectable* indulgence that clearly you have not been educated on. Or, perhaps, you lack the sophistication that i’ve grown terribly used to in Waterdeep.”

Tav grimaces while preparing herself for her next attempt to shut Gale up …. at least telling him how he *should* shut up, that is. Letting out a deep breath, she grabs hold of Gale’s glass and chugs it. As much as she can anyways, which still takes an eternity too long to ensure she doesn’t choke. “It’s still horrendous. But we’re even now. Spill, before I do.”

Gale glances at the empty glass in disappointment, but holds onto it. He steels himself for his next words while keeping his eyes downward. “If you must know, I speak of … physical excitement. I can handle magic, but my heart may not be able to handle … more carnal conditions of the flesh. With the orb, I risk exploding with any activity, or *feeling*, that gets my heart beating too fast, my blood pressure too high,” Gale explains.

Tav raises an eyebrow in response. “Like, you’re gonna explode as in ….” she trails off again, hoping he’ll take the hint. She knows he must be referring to the catastrophic Netherese blast they had spoken of before, but she couldn’t help herself from teasing him about the double entendre.

The blush taking over Gale’s face and neck came on far too suddenly for him to blame it on the wine. “No! Gods no, not like that! The magic in the orb will destroy me and everything around me,” Gale exclaims. Much to his avail, Tav still doesn’t stop her line of questioning.

Crossing her arms, Tav decides to enjoy the flustered nature of a blushing, tipsy Gale. “Okay, but you’re still saying you’d explode …. literally …. because you’d explode …. sexually. You said you wanted to show me a *magic* trick, not fuck my brains out.”

She pauses for a second when he lets out an indignant gasp at her directness. “Unless I’m mistaken on what a magic trick is, in which case I think you should’ve lead with that,” Tav finished with a smirk, finally meeting his eyes. She can feel the exasperation exuding from the wizard, and she loves every second of it.

Gale has no choice but to shake his head in lack of a coherent response to Tav’s brazen words. “I suppose you’ve got me there. I can show you some magic, no nefarious subterfuge. And no explosions of any kind, mortal *or* magical,” he emphasized.

Tav worries at her lip for show. “You really won’t blow up, right? Or you’ll at least warn me if you feel too much … *excitement*, stirring? We can’t leave scratch an orphan.” She thinks of mentioning the chaos that Astarion would unleash without them to reel him in, but she didn’t want to darken the mood too much.

Gale smiles at her words and lets out a little laugh as he promises that they’ll be safe. He holds out his hand, palm up, for her to take. Tav takes a hard look at his fingers for a moment, trying to commit their beauty to memory, before gently laying her hand atop his and intertwining their fingers to be led farther out of the camp. Once they reach a more quiet spot a few minutes later, Gale stops, forfeiting her warm hand to turn to her.

“This will do. Now, I want to show you the true embrace of the Weave. It’s a full-body experience to wield the Weave and feel its support of your magic,” Gale says with a smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. Tav categorizes this as his professor face, imagining him introducing lessons to his students with this pure enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, she’s more comfortable bickering with Gale than sharing that heart-warming thought with him. “You know i’m a sorcerer, right? I’ve been using the Weave my whole life. Unlike *some* people,” she pointedly includes to rile up the wizard.

“Of course. You’ve received the gift through your ancestor’s carnal relations with some dragon, while ‘some’ of us have *worked* for it,” Gale smiled, letting her know that he was joining her sarcasm in jest. “Nonetheless, there’s a very different feeling to using the Weave that comes with the years of study a wizard has. *That* is what I wanted to show you. I know you can call on the Weave as second nature, and you do a wonderful job with it, but I want you to experience the pleasure of embracing the environment, carefully going over the incantation and hand gestures, and using this to manipulate the Weave to bring your spell into reality.”

Tav felt her heart rate sky rocket with Gale’s praise for her sorcery. She wondered if the feeling he spoke of was really common to all wizards, or if he had a deeper connection as Mystra’s former lover … or victim, if you ask her. Still, she tried to focus on the positive.

“Ah, so you took me here to teach me slow careful pleasure,” Tav teased. “Get on with it then,” she encouraged with a wave of her hand.

Gale laughed in response, a deep sound that flooded Tav’s head with a light feeling, and took over her lips with a full grin.

“As you wish,” Gale bowed his head towards Tav, and proceeded with his magic lesson.

—

After an hour of teaching Tav how to connect with the Weave in this almost spiritual manner, Gale smiled at her once again. “I know you’re genuinely a natural at magic, but you did a wonderful job with this. It’s hard for someone to harness this connection without the education of a wizard.”

Tav smiles back at Gale and considers herself. “Or, maybe you’re just a good teacher.” As sure of herself as she was in magic, she was more sure of Gale’s ability to educate others. From his admirable desire to help others to his enthusiasm for knowledge … to the voice, face, and *hands* that made it impossible to zone out on him. He didn’t need to know that last part, though.

Gale chuckles at her praise, a light blush spreading across his face. “That too. How are you feeling now?” He asks, hoping his little magic lesson has been half as joyful for her as it has been for him. He felt relaxed, renewed, grounded, and more connected to her than he had ever felt. Although, that last part may be because he’s still standing so close to her, holding her hand as he needed to guide her through the more intricate parts of spell casting.

Tav allows herself to stare into Gale’s glimmering brown eyes, feeling a psychic connection between them where her thoughts could become his without the need to be verbalized.

After a lifetime of men being upset at her, accusing her of expecting them to read her mind, here is a man who can simply do so. Of *course* it’s Gale. Tav feels her eyes well up as she revels in the intense hope, adoration, and yearning she feels for him. Gazing into Gale’s eyes, their hands still intertwined, she imagines what it would be like to press onto her tiptoes and softly kiss him.

Gale’s eyes widen with shock as the thought dances into his mind. “I - I didn’t think -” he stutters, “I wasn’t … expecting that. Not that it’s unwelcome — it was a most pleasant thought,” Gale adds in hopes that Tav doesn’t take his surprise as disinterest, or even disgust. “It just took me by surprise,” he reiterates.

Tav takes a moment to compose herself before exhaling a shaky “okay.” Then, she whips her head around as she smells bergamot wafting in from the distance. Gale follows her gaze until they both see Astarion stumbling into the clearing … closely connected to Shadowheart.

“Well, looks like we’ve got company,” Gale tries (and fails) to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We might want to get back to camp before we have to witness whatever is going to happen here.”

Tav slowly turns back to gale, smiling as she notices his stony stare at the oblivious couple. “As long as we’re not able to hear them from camp…”

“Oh gods, I don’t even want to think of that,” Gale grimaced. “Why don’t we head back, and if we hear anything, you could come sleep in my tent?” He quickly adds,” I have a silencing ward. I’d cast one on them before we leave, but I’m afraid my concentration won’t last once I fall asleep, and I know how fitful your rest is.”

Astonishment, anger, and amusement fight for dominance over Tav. She conveys a mix of them with her slack-jawed expression. “You had a *silencing ward* on your tent this whole time? And you didn’t *tell me*?” She kept her outrage playful, although she was disappointed that he hadn’t shared this with her earlier.

“I’m sorry,” gale said in earnest as he took her hand and started leading her back towards camp. They left a wide berth for Astarion and Shadowheart to continue ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I started working on a ranged ward for your tent after I earned of your insomnia, but I never quite got it to stick. I didn’t want you to think I was coming onto you by offering a place in my tent to get some good rest. I don’t expect anything, and I could even sleep outside of it if you’re more comfortable with that.” He felt a bit less forward with the offer now that he knew she thought of kissing him — at least in that moment. Still, he never wanted her to feel pressure.

She gazed up at Gale as they reached their camp. “Really?” she asked, unsure if someone could genuinely be so kind. Last time she had an offer like that …. well, they lied about expecting nothing.

Gale squeezed Tav’s hand in reassurance as he took in the concern in her voice. “Of course. I’m sure our adventure would benefit from a well-rested leader… do you want my tent alone, or …” he trailed off, his bashfulness returning.

“No!” tav exclaimed. “I’m not taking your tent from you! We can share it, if you’re okay with that?” She hurries along in an attempt to be thoughtful and nonchalant at the same time, “whatever you want. Sleeping on opposite sides, together … I’m fine with either. Well, by together I mean … you know what I mean,” she shook her head as she tried to explain herself.

Then she remembered their little joke and smirked, “no undue *excitement* is what I mean.”

Gale returned her smirk with a laugh, “Right, always looking out for me. It’s lady’s choice though, and i’m happy with either as well. But I will say, I know you run warm. I also know that I can use a frost enchantment to keep you cool so long as we’re touching.” This was his masterful attempt at sweetening the deal without pressuring her by saying how much he longed to hold her in his arms … and damn him if it wasn’t going to work.

“Gods, you’ve really been holding out on me, haven’t you?” Tav admonished. “I’ll just, get some of my stuff, and then I’ll join you. I’ll bring my blanket so I hopefully won’t steal yours, but I make no promises.”

He smiled as he met her serious gaze at the threat of stealing his blanket. “Two is always better. I’ll see you when you’re ready,” Gale said softly, watching her head back to her tent. He silently thanked her for wanting another blanket, giving him a moment alone to bask in the excitement of a night with her. And calm down this excitement before she returns so he doesn’t scare her off.

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Eight

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 4360 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT).

WARNING: Contains graphic & gory description of injury, references to abuse.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

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A/N: Tav and Gale go on a little adventure... 💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Eight - Echoes

How many things can fit into a backpack? It doesn’t matter, really. You will make them fit. Each bag is a new set of struggles. Does Gale really need this many scrolls? He sits nearby, inspecting the sunlight reflecting on a dark purple, egg shaped stone in his hand.

It’s not gonna’ fit, it’s not gonna’ fit, it’s not gonna’- Oh would you look at that, it fits…

Kind of…

It’s bulging in every place it can, but it will hold. As long as nobody handles it too roughly… With a sigh, you attempt to lift it. “Hnngghh!” It’s not budging and you almost pulled a muscle.

Gale turns to you and slips the stone into his pocket, coming to your aid. “Oh, Tav. Here, allow me.” He bends and rises but, much to his surprise, halts as the bag refuses to lift from the ground. “Oh… Heh… It’s er- a heavy one, isn’t it?” He tries again. You struggle to hide the grin on your face as he turns red with effort. He steps back and clears his throat, determined to save his pitiful display of strength by casting Reduce on it. It shrinks to half it’s size and is significantly cuter. He picks it up with ease, smiles at you and places it with the rest of the packed up camp supplies.

You smirk. “Thank you…”

You glance at the pile of luggage gathered in the centre of camp and sigh. Once Astarion had left after your… Tryst… You had continued your day with a twisted contortion of emotion in your gut. You were dreading his return that evening, unsure of how the dynamic between you would have shifted. The both of you had, luckily, managed to keep your little secret, and you avoided him like the plague as he glanced at you, busying yourself with imaginary chores and absentmindedly itching the little scabs on your neck.

This morning, you continued as though nothing had happened. His ‘breakfast’ was prepared, well before he had exited his tent. He approached it with a difficult to read expression on his face. You probably could have identified it if you had looked at it for longer than a second, but you didn’t. “Thank you.” He said bluntly, tinged with disappointment that the cold, metallic rim of the cup would be pressed against his lips, rather than the soft, warm flesh of your neck.

He hadn’t expected this to feel so… Detached. He wondered how things would have been different if he had pleased you in the way you had pleased him. He silently kicked himself for it. For his audacity to think that he could enjoy you, even though you had been clear in the dismissal of his attempts to reciprocate. You were playing coy, of course you were…

You didn’t respond with much, just a simple nod and the slightest of smiles.

He glances at you now from across the camp, as he polishes his dagger. You don’t understand yourself, much less him. What is he thinking? You had a great time with him, didn’t you? Then why do you feel… Guilty?

Ugh… I can’t deal with this right now…

The camp suddenly begins to feel claustrophobic. You can’t stay here today, you need some space. Gale holds the stone in his hand once again, feeling it’s weight. “What is it?” You ask, moving closer to inspect it.

He looks up at you, then back at the stone. “I’m not entirely sure… It’s not just a pretty stone, I know that much. There’s something about it… Something deeper.”

“Hmm…” He tentatively hands it over to you for a second opinion. As you bring it closer to your eyes, you almost get lost in it’s swirling glow. You hadn’t noticed it before, but as it almost throbs with energy before you, this amethyst could be mistaken for having a soul.

“It’s… It’s really something.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He says, taking it back from you. “I’m almost certain we missed something when we found it. But, with our time limit, I haven’t had the chance to explore it further.”

You nod understandingly. “Where did you find it?”

“In some blighted village, just west of here. It was overrun with goblins, but since we secured the grove… Well, let’s just say they haven’t been much of a problem for us anymore.” He winks.

“So… It’s safe?” You ask, eagerly.

He raises a curious eyebrow. “It’s clear of goblins, I don’t know about ‘safe’. Why?”

“Well, we have some time now. We could always do a quick once over before we leave.” You say, trying to act nonchalant about it. Gale looks around at the other party members who are in the midst of organising and packing their belongings.

He smiles softly, shaking his head. “I don’t think the others are quite ready to go on a last minute adventure.”

You shrug. “Who said anything about them joining us? We could go together, just… You and me?”

His smile fades into a firm expression as he shakes his head. “Oh… N-no, Tav. I don’t think that’s a good idea. It could be dangerous. We don’t even know if there’s anything worth finding.”

You sigh and struggle to hide the annoyance on your face. Being useless is really starting to get old. “Gale,” You begin, calmly. “You said it yourself, it’s clear of goblins. Come on, I’m sick of being stuck here all day. Just this once, please? Before we leave?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Locking eyes with him, you stroke his arm and lean in closer. “I trust you to protect me. You can do that, can’t you?” He swallows hard and you swear you heard it. It takes a decent amount of self control not to release the chuckle that’s bubbling up in your throat. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, instead he just nods, his cheeks reddening rapidly.

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The gravel beneath your feet crunches with each step towards the village. Neither of you had made a big deal about leaving. Gale uttered some small thing about it to Karlach as he filled your pack with a few too many precautionary potions. But you chose not to say anything to anyone for fear of being convinced to stay. Side by side you walk, he catches you up on their adventure so far. He goes into detail about his strange dreams and his feelings for each party member. He’s polite about them all, but you can tell that the less he says about someone, the more he distrusts them. As he yaps, you realise that he hasn’t asked you a question about yourself in over an hour. Usually, this would offend you, but today, you’re glad to be the listener.

“Anyway, enough about me. How have you been, Tav?” He smiles, genuinely.

Ughhhh…

“I’ve been fine, nothing much to say, really.” You shrug.

“Oh, come now. I know you aren’t on the front lines but you’re still part of this… Us… And, I want to know more about you.” He nudges your arm.

You sigh. “Well… Would you believe me if I said that having a mind-flayer tadpole inserted into my orbital socket isn’t the worst thing to have happened to me?” You laugh softly, trying to make light of the situation.

He chuckles in response. “From the sounds of it, you aren’t alone. It seems we all have our baggage.”

“True…” You nod with a smile.

You walk together in purposeful silence. He wants you to fill it, but in your own time, and you appreciate that. “Can I ask you something… About Mystra?” His eyes widen and he glances at you in surprise. He nods. “Were you in love?”

“I… Well…” He spoke as though he had an answer ready to go, an ‘obvious’ one. But he caught himself and for the first time in years, really thought about it. “Yes… But… It was more than that... More than love, in a way. It felt as though it transcended what anything but gods could feel… But, alas, I’m not a god. So, who knows, really?” He looks forward in thought. “Why do you ask?”

You take a deep breath and look forward too. “I think I was in love too, once. But like you said, it was complicated. My love wasn’t the goddess of magic or anything,” You chuckle. “But she was mine, and I was hers… But… After some time, she tipped the balance…”

“What do you mean?” He asks, now giving you his full attention.

“Belonging to each other didn’t feel like it used to. Especially since she started implementing rules.” You scoff and shake your head. “And they were such ridiculous rules, too. I can’t believe I ever actually followed them.” Then there’s a pause. A pause that leaves you feeling awkward and like you’re taking up too much space.

“Were you scared of her?” He breaks the silence, eyes not leaving your face.

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you contemplate the question. “I think I was more scared of losing her. I didn’t know who I was without her… Sometimes, I still don’t…” His eyes widen in recognition. These feelings you describe, he knows them all too well. “What is it?” You ask softly.

“I just… Didn’t realise how similar we are, that’s all.” He smiles weakly. His hand itches to hold yours, not necessarily romantically, but more as a gesture of solidarity. But, he refrains, not wanting to cross any boundaries. “Thank you, for telling me that, Tav.” His smile strengthens.

-----------------------------------------------------

The smoke hits your nose first. The scent is pleasant yet dark as you look upon the dilapidated structures around you. The floor is scorched and littered with bodies. Although they mostly seem to be goblins, the sight of their half-cooked viscera still makes your heart twist in tandem with your stomach. You try to hide it, but this aftermath of brutality is still shocking to your untrained eyes. “I know, it’s ugly. But, we wouldn’t be alive had we not resorted to such measures…” Gale says as he guides you through the village.

You pull your eyes from the scene and shake off any lingering feelings with a sigh. “So, did you search all of these buildings?” You ask, attempting to move on.

“Hmm, not thoroughly.”

“Alright, let’s split up and start searching for anything magical, then.” You say, already heading towards one of the buildings before he can protest. You walk inside and inspect the interior. 

Dried, hanging greenery acts as curtains above a counter, littered with empty potion bottles and multicoloured dust. A book sits amongst the clutter and you open it, flicking through journal entries until you discover a clue. There’s a cellar beneath this place. Looking around, it isn’t immediately obvious where it is. Thrilled to have an objective, you search the area: Peeling back dusty rugs and peering over counters. As you move through the room, your footsteps are nothing but quiet little thumps on the wood, until they’re suddenly louder. You experimentally stomp your foot again. Hollow.

Found it…

You open it up and almost jump straight in, eager and fuelled by your desire for adventure. But, you don’t really fancy another lecture from Gale so you call him over. He hurries over, surprisingly quickly with a brief panic on his face before he sees that you’re perfectly fine. “Tav-! Oh, did you find something?”

“Er-Yeah, a cellar, I think. Let’s check it out.”

He nods and steps forward, peering down into the dark cellar. He casts Light on his staff and heads down first to ensure that it’s safe before helping you down the ladder.

Moving through the cellar and it’s openings into a small cave, you pass by multiple wooden caskets on the floor. “Strange…” Gale comments as he looks over each one, not daring to open them.

“This doesn’t seem like your typical burial ground.” You say, crouching before one of the caskets.

“No, it does not.” He shakes his head and looks at you, as you begin to pry open one of the lids. “W-wait, stop. We don’t know what could be in these.”

“Exactly, one of them could have what we’re looking for.” You say dismissively as you continue to loosen the lid. He takes your hands and moves them away from the casket. “Hey!”

“Shh, look.” He points to a large, ornate mirror, embedded in the wall nearby. “Now, that looks more promising, doesn’t it?” You narrow your eyes at him and huff, irritated that he’s right. Rolling your eyes, you walk ahead as he chuckles behind you.

You both stand before the mirror, you lean in and inspect it as Gale appreciates the reflection of you standing beside each other. “I don’t get it, what is-AH!” You’re interrupted by your image in the material warping into a face. It speaks.

“Speak your name…”

You look between Gale and the mirror, holding your tongue. You shrug at him, he shrugs back. It becomes a short battle of shrugs and silent gestures, fighting to get the other person to respond. Gale concedes with a sigh. “Er- Gale… Of Waterdeep.”

“I do not know this name… If you are known to my master, step forward and declare yourself an ally…”

You both share panicked looks, unsure of the best next move. Gale clears his throat. “Um… Yes, we are your master’s allies... May you grant us passage?”

“Only a true ally of Ilyn Toth, may pass… What think you of the zulkir known as Szass Tam?”

Gale scoffs at the question, as though the answer is obvious. You haven’t the faintest idea who the mirror refers to, but as your companion turns to you with a knowing look, expecting you to scoff with him, you do so… Albeit, a lot less convincingly.

“A foul lich. May he die a thousand more deaths.” He replies, confidently.

“You are no zulkir… But are you wise? Tell me, why might one use balsam ointment?”

“Balsam… Hmm, I swear I’ve read about this… Just give me a moment, it’ll come back to me-”

“It cleans wounds.” You say, matter-of-factly. Gale raises an eyebrow at you as you interject and turns back to the mirror.

“Acceptable, finally… If you could see anything in me, what would it be?”

Gale thinks on the question, mulling it over to form the perfect articulation of the vision in his mind. “I'd see myself in my next incarnation: a living manifestation of Netherese magic. A mythal in my own right.”

“You seek to survive… You seek power… And your companion? What of their desired reflection?”

Gale steps aside for you to take his place, you hesitantly do so and think. Thankfully, the mirror is patient as it anticipates your response. Gale’s interest in your answer grows, the longer you contemplate it. It has been a good few years since you’ve pondered this question. This… Insignificant question. You grasp for anything in your mind to fill the space where your answer should sit. You don’t find much. Gods, it’s frustrating…

What do I want?

There are faint, truthful answers that echo in the back of your mind. Alas, you refuse to hear them, for they echo not only truth, but painful truth. Truth that doesn’t look quite right: Warped and ugly. You don’t recognise them, they don’t look like you, but your soul holds onto them for dear life. This really is a stupid, fucking question… “I… I don’t know…”

“Pathetic… You will be purged…” The mirror responds.

Your reflections warp as the mirror appears to bulge in it’s centre. A spherical shape emerges from the surface of the mirror. You step back but your curious eyes encourage you to lean in, to inspect the strange construct before you. There’s light. A furious orange creeps through the gaps of steel, reaching out to you. It grows only stronger, brighter, hotter.

Gale yanks you to the side to take cover as the whirring of the machine crescendos and a stream of concentrated flame scorches the floor, causing the earth to rupture in a powerful yet contained explosion. “Stay here.” He commands as the sphere continues it’s patrol around the area, leaving an ember trail behind. Your heart is beating faster than you’d like to admit as you watch the construct continue to create similar combustions, sending ripples of vibration through the ground and awakening the rotted residents of the scattered caskets.

They emerge from their resting places, bones grinding as they drag their skeletal bodies from their coffins. In their reanimation, you can see the faintest glint of afterlife in their deep, dark eye sockets. A purple, dim magic that binds their bones together and demands that they pursue their targets. As they begin their advance, Gale steps forward and confidently recites words that you’ve only ever heard, but never understood. His eyes glow with the same light that emits from his fluid hands as a gust of flames engulf the nearest undead assailants.

You retreat, scurrying backwards and pressing your back against the cold mirror. Your companion stands proudly, determined to protect. He manipulates the weave with expert precision, so much so that you’ve lost track of where one string of Latin ends and another begins. You see a frenzy of vicious colour and pattern travel from his hands to your foes, vanquishing them in varied yet equally violent ways. Bones are incinerated, marrow is electrified and cartilage is forced apart.

Safety lies behind his capable hands and so you stay put, wide eyed and darting your gaze across the room, attempting to follow the events of combat. The sphere construct’s patrol awakens more restless undead and surrounds the area with the cinders of burnt coffins. The force of both Gale’s and the construct’s explosions causes the stalactites to quiver above, some crashing to the ground and splintering into shrapnel. Shrapnel that embeds itself into Gale’s flesh, forcing him to crumble to the ground before you.

“Gale!” You cry out, only to be responded to with a pained groan as he clutches his wounded torso. You dare not scramble towards him, not with the nearing threat of several skeletal fighters approaching him. You pant and try to think. You remove your backpack and open it, frantically searching it for something that can help.

Shit, shit, shit! Come on! There has to be something in here! Anything!

Invisibility. Perfect.

You waste no time pouring the vial into your mouth and gulping it down. You observe your hands flickering in and out of transparency as it takes effect, until you are gone.

Boned fingers grasp at Gale’s body, eager to tear him apart. Trembling into a standing position, you observe the scene before you, searching for escape. There is none. Tears prickle the corners of your eyes as you try to grapple with the knowledge that this could be your end. You look to your fallen companion, overwhelmed by enemies and desperately trying to form the eloquence that his speech once had, to no avail. Then, it occurs to you what will happen once his body is lifeless and can no longer contain the tempest within him.

You need him. Shit. Fucking shit. You need him alive.

Reaching into your bag once more, you retrieve a healing potion and begin to step forward, but your hesitation halts your movement. Your mind screams and thrashes within your body, demanding that you move. Slow, terrifying steps forward, each one enduring the strain of defying your instincts.

Hands shield his face as he writhes beneath each vicious blow. Death in battle, to some, may be an honourable, favourable way to go. But, until he was infected with the tadpole, he never truly felt he had the capability to die. Mystra’s Chosen, a prodigy from birth… Reduced to nothing but a failed footnote in history by, what? A mere group of skeletons? He feels the orb stir as his strength wanes and his tragically human body fails him, time and time again. He clutches at his chest and grimaces as the orb begins to spread it’s vicious, burning heat into his nerves.

He pants and glances to where you once were, only to find it void and cold without your presence. Frantically, he darts his gaze around, trying to find you until a comforting, soft warmth holds his face. Feeling the pad of a finger peeling back his lower lip, guiding his mouth to open, he obeys and follows the movement. His tongue tingles with the rejuvenating liquid. It absorbs into his mouth and welcomes the familiar taste to mend his wounds and give him strength. A slight break in the rhythm of the skeletons’ onslaught affords him the moment he needs to utter the poetry he so desperately needs to save his life.

“Detono.”

A thunderous force throws both you and the skeletons away from Gale, hurtling you towards the mirror. A distant echo of a soul wails and the construct clatters to the ground as the mirror shatters from the impact, and you land in a bed of glass shards. They score deep lacerations into your back, but with the wind forced from your lungs, your gaping mouth produces no scream.

Echoes of muffled incantation and vicious impact from beyond the mirror slowly come to an end. A stumbling, adrenaline-filled Gale searches the area for you, rushing into the room to find a growing pool of blood coating fragmented glass. His eyes widen and he rushes towards it. “Tav?! Is that you?!” He cries, searching the empty, red space before him for any sign of you.

Lips part but nothing comes out, you reach out to touch him. He gasps softly as he feels the tug on his robe. “Gods, Tav…” He exclaims as he reaches for your pack and reaches out, expecting to graze the various, precautionary vials he had prepared earlier. Instead, his fingertips snag against jagged edges. “No…” He breathes and pulls the bag open to it’s widest span, searching the inside, finding it’s iridescently damp, geode-like interior, with protruding shards from the broken bottles lining the leather.

You lay prone, your pained countenance flickering back into perceivable as the potion’s effect wanes. You manage to speak, voice strained and barely audible. “W-what is it…?”

Gale frantically tries to think. “I need to get you out of here. Now.”

Your eyes widen as you detect the solemnity in his tone. It hurts, sure, but could you die from this? From something as pathetic, as this? You attempt to push yourself up into a seated position, releasing choked groans. Gale helps you up as your strength is about to falter. You take his aid and eventually manage to stand together. Panting from the exertion, you glance around.

A suspended, large, animal skeleton looms over the room, you couldn’t say what the creature once was, only that it must have been formidable. There’s a slab in the centre, the perfect size for an operating table, stained with brown streaks of what must be blood. Beside a grand fireplace, in the corner, a young, stuffed bear watches over the area with beaded, black, lifeless eyes. Then, you notice iron bars. A gate. Beyond, is a luminescent, violet presence that matches the hue of the amethyst that Gale carries.

Blinded by determination, you attempt to step towards it, only to be halted by your companion. “What are you doing?! We must leave!” He drags you along, towards the exit, but you fight him. Weakly, but stubbornly enough to make him listen.

“There!” You wheeze, gesturing with a point of your trembling finger, towards the violet light.

He follows your gaze and peers beyond the gate to find the same, palpable energy that emanates from whatever lies beyond. He can’t help but feel drawn to it, to the power that it must hold. Realising that he’s been leaning towards it and staring for a little too long, he pulls himself back, shaking his head.

“Tav, no.” He states firmly, feeling a pang of loss at the potential that lies before him. You writhe in his grasp once again, only to be restrained. “Stop s-struggling!”

“It’s what we came for!” You croak.

“I-it does not matter!” He strains, attempting to drag you along, only to be interrupted by a pulsing, squirming in his mind as your tadpole reaches out to his.

Your voice crashes and booms in his skull, desperate and far too loud. “Get it, now!” He groans as his ears ring, nearly falling and taking you with him. He glares at you with frustration and concern. “Please…” You whisper within him, pleading with your eyes, soothing the ache in his head with a subtler sound.

He sighs, knowing you will only continue to fight him if he doesn’t do as you ask. He hurriedly leans you against a wall and wastes no time ripping the gate apart with a thunderous incantation. Spotting a trap nearby, he quickly casts Mage Hand to retrieve whatever lies beyond the cloud of dust.

Flesh, stretched over a locked book. A book with amethyst eyes and a gaping maw, ready to receive it’s key. He takes it from his spectral assistant and the moment he touches it, he feels it throb. Pulse. Almost as though there are functional veins beneath the skin. It whispers to him, incoherently. Warnings, no doubt.

Deciding to examine it properly later, he pulls his gaze away from the alluring, violet stones and tucks it into his pack. He rushes towards you and you, finally, willingly let him lead the way. “There. Now we really must go.”

You smile weakly and nod. Pale and dazed.

-----------------------------------------------------

Cold and black.

Hot and white.

Echoes.

“What the fuck, Gale?!” 

“Not now, Karlach, please! Where is Shadowheart?!”

“I’m here!”

“Hurry!”

“I told you this was a bad idea!”

“I know, damn it! I know! But now is hardly the time!”

More cold and more black.

More hot and more white.

More echoes.

“Oh, soldier…”

“I… I am so sorry, Tav…”

“Everyone, step back!”

“What in the hells is going on?!”

More echoes.

“Is she… Okay…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[pikapeppa]

Karlach/Dammon: Burning Blue

A wish fulfillment fic to answer the question: what if Dammon was the lucky guy to break Karlach's ten-year celibacy streak?

NSFW smut, ~7500 words, from Karlach's precious POV. This takes place the same night that Dammon makes Karlach very touchable again. 🥰 Read here on AO3 instead.

*****************

I’m nervous. Gods, I’m fucking nervous. No, no, don’t be nervous, Big K, you’ve got this. It’s nothing you haven’t done before! It’s just a good old-fashioned come-on, that’s all. Just a good old-fashioned invitation for Dammon to do the beast with two backs with you. No sweat, nothing to worry about, no reason to feel like your engine’s gonna thrum its way right out of your chest.

Ugh, fine, I’m nervous. I’ll admit it, all right? I’m nervous. But how can you blame me? It’s been a decade since I laid a finger on another living soul. One who wasn’t a hellspawn or trying to kill me, I should say. Yeah, the Avernus kind of laying-a-finger-on-someone is really not what I have in mind right now.

All right, there he is. I mean, of course he’s there, it’s his smithy setup in the barn, where the fuck else would be be? Shit, I’m so nervous. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want to hit the bedroll with me? I might just crumble up into a pile of ash on the spot if he turns me down…

Ohhh, no you don’t. No more doubt. Not another negative word, you hear me? We’re doing this. Come on, soldier, shape up, be confident, all right? Just be your usual big beautiful bold badass self, just like Brynn said. Back straight, head high, tail-barb up: come on, girl, you can do this.

“Dammon! Hi! How’s the hammering going?” Nice, good start. Solid greeting, nothing weird about that.

“Karlach!” he says. “You’re back. I thought you were off to camp for the night.”

He’s smiling at me. Gods, does he ever have a nice smile. It’s like his whole face gets lit up with sunshine. And those eyes? Phwoar. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him how pretty his eyes are. Like two big blue jewels. Or like lightning turned into jewels. Wait, what’s all this nonsense I’m saying? I think I’ve been spending too much time with Gale. Ha, saying something would be a good idea right about now, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, I’m back. I was wondering, do you — are you done for the day?” It looks like he’s done for the day. His forge is still hot, but it’s just coals now rather than a big old fire. Gods, I hope he’s done for the day.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up,” he says (yay!). “Did you need something repaired? I can rekindle the fire, it’s no problem—”

“No, no, all good. Everything’s tip-top, thanks to you. Listen, I was wondering: d’you want to have a drink with me?”

His whole face lights up, and my gods, I swear: if I had a heart, it would’ve done a fluttery thing like something from a romance book. “That sounds great. Let’s go on inside.” He hangs up his apron, and then we’re heading to the inn.

Yes! First step done, we’re off to a cracking good start! Here we go, inside the inn for a drink, just me and Dammon. How great is this? I mean, not that it’s not wonderful being with Brynn and Wyll and all the rest of those adorable little dumplings, but there’s something special to be said about being alone with just you and the person you’ve got mad horns for.

Here we are, at the door to the inn — and Dammon touches my shoulder. “Go ahead.”

He’s touching my shoulder. His hand, that strong callused hand on my shoulder. He’s touching me, he can touch me, and it’s all thanks to him. Gods, I want to ride him until the sun comes up.

Keep it together, Karlach. Stay cool until you find out if he wants this too. Ha, stay cool! I can sort of almost do that now! Enough for touching, at least, which is all I want in the world right now, and Dammon is touching my shoulder, and… and I should probably get inside the inn now.

I step inside — quick little rub of Darkmaw’s paw for luck. Ooh, Jaheira is still awake, I love her, she’s so damned cool!

Dammon leads me to one of the tables near the bar. “What can I get you? Wine? Beer? The beer is even cold, thanks to Jaheira—”

“Cold beer? Sign me the fuck up!”

He smiles — ugh, swoon! — and off he goes to the bar to find some beer. And here I am, sitting at this table, happier than the happiest clam that ever lived in the sandy banks of the Chionthar. Ha, that was a funny line! I mean, I think it was funny. I bet Wyll will, too. I’ll have to tell him about it — maybe he can add it to one of his stories!

Gods, this inn is nice: all candle-lit and quiet since it’s nighttime, real cozy-like. Perfect for telling a certain smith that he’s one of the kindest, warmest, most wonderful people you’ve ever met and that you fancy his pants off — literally, if he wants it that way. Ohh, I’m getting nervous again. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine.

Dammon comes back and sets down two steins. “Are you all right?”

“I’m better than all right. I’m fantastic.” I lift my stein. “Cheers to you, Dammon. For everything. I really mean that.”

Another killer smile. “Cheers back to you, Karlach.” He taps his stein to mine, then brings it to his mouth, and I do the same — ohhh, beer. Cold beer, my gods, I’d forgotten exactly how good this was! I take another swallow and another — okay, honestly, I am so thirsty. And now I’m out of beer, and Dammon is smiling at me, and no, no, I can’t throw myself at him across the table, I can’t.

He chuckles and puts down his stein. “Can I get you another?”

“Naw, I’m good,” I laugh. “This was great, thanks.”

He nods and rests his elbows on the table (hellooo, rolled-up sleeves and forearms). “So what did you want to talk about? Do you have questions about your engine?”

“No, it’s not that.” No fucking way am I thinking about that right now. “I wanted to ask if, um…” Don’t be nervous, girl. You’ve got this. “You said before that I was — that I’m… touchable. Very touchable.”

Oh no, his smile’s fading. “Yeah, I did. I’m…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe I crossed a line…? This is a big — a huge deal for you, I know it must be overwhelming, the last thing you need—”

Wait wait wait! “Hang on, slow down. You think you crossed a line?”

“I… didn’t I? That’s not what you wanted to say?”

“Hells, no!” Woah, voice down, there are people sleeping in the room next door. “Are you kidding?” I say (quietly). “If that’s what you call crossing the line, I want you to cross all the lines.”

He looks gobsmacked now, which is really fucking cute. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I really, really do. If you want to, I mean. I don’t — I mean, I know I’m a lot of heat to handle, but I…” Fuck, my engine feels like it’s roaring. Please, gods, let him want this too. “I want to be with you, Dammon. I… It’s been so long since I was with anyone, and — and now that I can be with someone, I… I want it to be you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me like a fish, actually. Oh fuck, am I totally off base here? Noooo. “No pressure, though! No — I mean, if you’re not into… If I’m jumping the hatchet here, that’s totally fine, it’s not a problem—”

“No!” he blurts. “It’s not that. Believe me, Karlach, it’s not that I don’t want to. I mean — what I mean is that I…” He’s smiling again, thank all the fucking gods. “I would love to be with you, actually. I just… I can’t believe it’s me you want.”

I would love to be with you. I would love to be with you. He said that, right? Those were the words he said? Dammon the amazing smith with the amazing sinew-y hands said that to me, right? Oh shit, he’s still talking.

He gestures at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re Karlach. The Karlach, the destroyer of demons and devilspawn. You’re a hero.”

Oh my gods. Is that really what he thinks? “Wha—? Oh come on! It’s not like that.”

“It is like that,” he insists. “Haven’t you spoken to the kids? Mattis and Ide and them? I mean, I know you have, but you know they worship you, right? You’re like a goddess to them.” He looks around like he’s checking for spies, then lowers his voice. “Honestly? I think you’re better for them than a goddess, because you’re real to them. You mean something to them, Karlach. You’ve given them someone to look up to. That’s no small thing for a group of tiefling kids with no parents to look up to anymore.”

Fuck, I’m gonna cry. He doesn’t even know about Mum and Dad, and he hit the nail right on the fucking head.

He touches my hand — oh fuck, he’s not just touching my hand, but holding my hand. Turning my hand over on the table, his fingers sliding over my palm, his fingers curling into mine like he did right after he fixed me… Gods, my entire throat is full of fucking tears.

“I would love to be with you, Karlach,” he says in the softest voice. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

Oh, hells. He’s going to make me weep. Swallow it down, soldier, gulp those tears down! “Let’s get outta here. Will you come back to my camp?”

“Actually…” Ooh, what’s this cheeky look on his face? Cute! “Would you be interested in a bed?”

What? No way! “A bed? You’ve got a claim on one of the beds here?”

“Sort of. Me and the other grown-ups have a rotation with one of the rooms upstairs. Taking turns having a little peace and privacy for a night.”

“You and the grown-ups?”

“Yeah — well, we offered to the kids, too, but they want to stay together on the main floor, where the Harpers are. Can’t really blame them, either. But anyway, um, what I was trying to say is, um.” He clears his throat. “If you’d rather use a bed than a bedroll, there’s—”

I’m already on my feet. “Bed. You and me. Now.”

He smiles — gods, that brilliant smile. And he’s on his feet too now, we’re heading for the stairs — oh my gods, he’s holding my hand again. Dammon is holding my hand, his fingers are between my fingers, how fucking nice is this? How long have I been thinking about this — no, dreaming about this? Easy, Karlach, keep those tears in your eyes.

He gives me a little smile as we walk up the stairs. “Fair warning that it was Rolan’s turn in the bed last night, so it might smell a little magical.”

What! Is that a thing? Gale and Brynn never said that was a thing! “Really? What does magic smell like?”

“Oh, no, I — I’m just joking.” Dammon smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “It was a bad joke. Sorry. Pretend you didn’t—”

I kiss him. How could I not kiss him? He’s so — oh, gods, he’s kissing me. His lips, my lips, his hands in mine, we’re — we’re kissing, we’re kissing! Dammon the smith is kissing me, and he’s… Would it be naff as all the hells if I said he was dreamy? Fuck it, who cares if it’s naff? He is gods-damned dreamy. As much as his hands are callused, his lips are so fucking soft, and I’m… I am melting. I swear, I’m melting, he’s making my lips melt apart like a hot knife in butter, he’s touching his tongue to mine… Gods, his hands though? How he uses them? This is fucking magic. His thumbs are sliding over my wrists, his palms skimming up my arms, over my shoulders, oh gods, oh gods oh gods…!

His hands cradle my neck, and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m — I’m… I can’t think. I can’t think, I can’t — I can just feel. I feel him: his lips his tongue his hands — how close he is, the nearness of his body to mine, I feel… fuck, I feel everything, every touch of his fingers and every stroke of his tongue, and I — he — shit, was that me? That little kitten-y sound: was that actually me? I’ve never made a sound like that in my life.

He breaks the kiss, presses his horns to mine. “Are you all right?”

I’m a puddle. I can’t talk. I just nod.

He smiles (arghhh, as if I’m not melted enough already!). “You’re burning blue,” he whispers.

Huh? “Huh?”

“You’re burning blue.” He rests his palm on my chest — oh shit, I really am burning blue. I… I’m burning blue but — but I’m not burning him!

“You’re…” My hand’s fucking shaking as I press it over his. “You don’t feel that? Not even a little singe?”

“Not even a little singe.” His eyebrows do that little mischief-quirky thing. “I told you, I’m good.”

I laugh. I can’t help it: I’m as giddy as a kid on her birthday. “Oh ho-ho, boy, you don’t know what you’re doing by saying things like that in a voice like that.” I step closer to him.

His gorgeous smile gets even bigger. “Or maybe I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, still in that voice — oh, gods yes, his hands are on my neck again, so callused and so fucking gentle—

“Ahem.”

Fuck, Jaheira’s right behind us! “J-Jaheira! I mean, uh, ma’am!” Shit, should I bow to her? What should I do? She’s looking at me!

She smiles — the Jaheira is smiling at me! — then tilts her head. “Karlach, is it?”

She remembers my name! Snap to attention, soldier! “Yes ma’am, that’s me.”

She nods to Dammon too. “Dammon. Good evening. Let it be known that no one begrudges you your fun, but perhaps you should have it elsewhere that isn’t right at the top of the stairs. The only stairs that leads to the upper floor…?”

All right, now I’m going to melt from embarrassment. “Of course! Right! Uh, right! Uh—”

Dammon cuts me off, thank fuck. “Sorry, Jaheira,” he says. “We’ll get out of your way. Out of the way, I mean.” He takes my hand again, and I’m following him down the hall to one of the rooms: a simple little room with a nice cushy-looking double bed.

He leads me inside and closes the door. We look at each other. And we just crack up, we just totally — we’re both laughing like loons, just laughing so hard I can hardly fucking breathe. Augh, my ribs are starting to hurt, I’m laughing so hard!

“Here, sit down,” Dammon chuckles. He leads me over to the bed, and I let him guide me there.

Then I push him down and straddle him.

His gorgeous eyes get big. “Oh! Are you—”

I kiss him again — gods, he’s so delicious. Soft lips, hot tongue, strong hands: oh, I could just die for the touch of his hands. They’re circling my waist, they’re gripping my hips, they’re curling around my thighs… Fuuuck, gods, I’m sparking. Feels like everything’s sparking, like everywhere he touches is shooting with sparks, and I can’t… I can’t wait. I can’t wait anymore. I need more, I need his fucking hands, I need his hands on my skin.

I rip off my top and chuck it on the floor, and his baby-blues drop to my tits. “W-wow. I—”

I grab his collar and I shove my tongue into his mouth — fuck, his tongue tangling with mine: mm, just imagine feeling that sweet tongue in other places… Hellfire take me, I need this man more than I need air.

I climb off of him and start unbuttoning the ol’ trousers, and he grabs my hands. “Hey, hey. Easy, Karlach. Slow down. You don’t need to rush.”

Easy? Slow down? He’s kidding, right? It’s like I’ve never known the meaning of the word. “I…” Fuck, I’m breathing hard, I’m breathing so hard, and every breath feels like it’s making me hotter. Easy, Karlach, slow it down for him.

I gulp down a breath. “I hear you, soldier. But I have to tell you, I… Sometimes it feels like I’ve only got two modes: off, and on-on-on. I don’t…” Damn it, Karlach, breathe. “You might need to show me how to do this slowing-down thing.”

He smiles, and I swear, something inside of me absolutely melts. He’s got this way about him when he smiles, like his smile makes his face softer even when he’s showing his teeth, and it just… It’s such a special smile, you know? Like the way it feels when your mum watches you eating your favourite meal that she made? That’s how Dammon’s smile feels, and I swear on my life, if I still had a heart, it would be swelling up to five times its normal size.

He shifts off of the bed. “I’m happy to show you,” he says, and gods save me, he’s using that voice again. “Maybe I can start with…?” He gestures at my trousers and gives me a can-I? kind of look.

“Yes,” I say loudly. “Fuck yes.”

A big brilliant smile, and then he’s — ah, fuck yes, he’s undoing the buttons on my pants. He’s popping the buttons one by one, not even touching me as he does it, but I swear to all the gods, watching him do this is making me hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. And that includes when Zariel first put this fucking engine in my chest. No, don’t think about Zariel, forget about her.

Dammon pops the last button, then looks at me. “Can I take them off?”

“Please. Rip them off for all I care!”

He grins — gods, he’s a stupidly beautiful man. He’s pulling down my shabby trousers now, finally, pulling the damn things down over my hips and my ass and — oh. Oh my gods, oh my gods he’s kneeling in front of me this is not a drill!.

He sighs. “Karlach, you’re… really beautiful, you know that?”

He’s kneeling in front of me. Dammon is kneeling in front of me. He’s looking at me, his hand is curled around my ankle, and — oh, fuck me, his tail-barb is tracing my calf, his tail is coiling around my calf. His tail, his hand, his — even just his beautiful blue eyes on my skin: he’s seeing me, all of me, my bare fucking skin that nobody’s seen for ten fucking years.

“Are you all right?” His tail-barb strokes my knee, his hand squeezes my calf — fuck, I can’t cope with this.

I grab his shirt and pull. “Please, I — please, Dammon!”

He stands up. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

I kiss him again. I know, I know, I keep fucking doing it, I keep sticking my tongue down his throat, but he’s so… I… Fuck, his hands are on my hips, on my back, he’s — shit, he’s stroking my shoulder blades. His fingers are tracing over my vents like it’s the most normal thing in the world to touch a woman with fucking vents in her skin, and I’m… I feel so… It’s like I’m full, my chest, my tummy, it’s like I’m so, so full — but it just reminds me of how empty I’ve been for so long. And I need him to… I need more. I have to have more. I need him to remind me of how good it is to feel this fucking full.

I grip his collar. “I need you naked. Right now.”

He laughs: argh, that laugh, how soft it is, how sweet! “I thought you wanted me to show you ‘slow’.”

“You can show me slow with your kit off.” I know what I sound like, I sound desperate as all the hells, but I do not fucking care. A river of blue heat is running through my veins, and my skin is fucking vibrating for more: more of him, more of his skin touching mine — gods, I want to slide against him like we’ve both been fucking greased.

“All right,” he chuckles. “You talked me into it.” He takes off his scarf, then starts taking off his vest, and I start working on his belt. I’m just helping, right? Just being a good old helper, that’s me. Ha, his belt is off, his vest is off, just a pesky shirt and trousers now — oh-ho, he’s a fast one with the shirt, we love a man who can strip like a fast-changer at the circus! It’s just the trousers left now. I grab for his laces —

Oh yes, he’s kissing me. His hands on my neck, his tongue so fucking sweet and slow in my mouth — gods alive, kissing is fantastic, so fucking fantastic it’s unreal. He’s pulling me close, his hands on my hips and his chest — fuuuck me Dammon, his sternal ridges are rubbing my nipples.

I can’t fucking cope. I can’t fucking cope, I can’t think, it feels so fucking good, I’m making that noise again like a hungry kitten begging for milk…

He peels his lips from mine. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” I whimper. Yes, I whimpered like a kitten, all right? Whatever, shut up about it.

“You’re going slow,” he says in that voice. “You’re doing it right now.”

I’ve not a clue what he’s talking about. I’ve never felt less slow in my whole fucking life. “What do you mean?”

“My trousers,” he says. “You stopped trying to take them off.”

I burst out laughing. (It’s mostly hysteria, I’m fucking telling you.) “It’s not ‘cause I want to stop! I just can’t, uh…” Oh gods oh gods: his tail. His tail-barb is caressing my butt and giving me shivers — gods, what a life! When was the last time I got a shiver about anything? — oh my fucking gods, his tail is twining around my thigh.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m alive with desire, I’m so fucking alive, and all he’s doing is curling his tail around my upper thigh. But his tail is so close — he’s so close, the smooth heat of his tail curling so fucking close to where I’m burning so hot…

That kitten noise squeaks out of me again. “Dammon, please…” I stroke his chest — my palms on his chest, my fingers on the ridges of his ribs, I’m touching him. I’m pressed against him from thigh to chest, I’m pulling him closer with my tail, I’m petting the ridges of his back and his shoulder blades — ooh, he’s got wingtips!

“You have wingtips!” I gasp. “Aw, how lucky are you? My mum always said these were good luck!”

He laughs that precious little laugh. “My grandmother said the same. Said it means I’ll be able to fly in my next life.”

“Aww, I love that. Makes me extra-wish I had a pair myself.” I trace the sharp little hooks with my fingers, then keep running my hands over the ridges of his back. Damn, skin is amazing. It’s really an amazing, amazing thing, and nobody even bothers to think about how amazing it is. Skin and muscles, too, like these nice wiry ropes of muscles in his upper back and his arms… Phwoar, his arms are bloody fit. I mean, of course they are, he’s a fucking smith, but still: I didn’t realize just how damn fit he was under his clothes. And these veins in his forearms? The way they pop, and the burn scars on his forearms and his hands? He might even have more scars on his arms and hands than I do, which is saying a hell of a lot.

Hellfire fucking take me, he is gods-damned beautiful. The scars, the ridges of his spine and his sternum, the wiry muscle of his smithy’s bod — not just his body, either, but his jaw, his nose, that heart-melting jewel-eyed smile…

Oops. Embarrassing. I went totally silent while I was touching him. “Sorry. Went into my own little world for a minute there.”

Another soft laugh. “Don’t even think about being sorry,” he says, and he lifts his hand… Ohhh, he’s touching my cheek. He’s holding my cheek in his palm, just cradling my cheek like it’s a baby bird… How long has it been since I’ve had a hand on my cheek? A nice hand, mind you, not a blood-covered clawed hand trying to gouge my eyes out. Too fucking long, that’s how: too fucking long with no caring hands to touch me or hold me or hug me when things got fucking rough. But that’s all over now, thanks to Dammon. I can touch and be touched, I can kiss and be kissed, I can climb this rip-roaringly gorgeous man in front of me, and I swear to every god that’s listening that that’s what I’m going to do all night long.

I kiss him and pull him close with my hands and tail. I stroke his spine with my tail-barb, I lick his tongue like it’s the sweetest thing in all the realms, I rub myself against him like I’m some pent-up kid who doesn’t know what they’re doing yet, and it all feels fucking fantastic. And he’s touching me too, his claws scratching my neck so super-gently while we kiss, his hands on my back, my hips — wowee, his hands on my ass! I want that, yes more—!

He palms my backside and pulls me tight to his body — fuck, he’s hard. He’s hard he’s hard he’s hard, I can feel him rubbing against my ladybits through his trousers — augh he’s still wearing trousers, fuck my life upside down!

I break from his kiss. “Take your trousers off,” I beg. “Just take them off already, all right? I need them off, I can’t — I really really want them off!”

“I’ll take them off. It’s all right,” he says in this dreamy calm-soothing voice, and his tail starts uncurling from around my thigh—

Fuck fuck fuck oh my gods yes his tail is sliding between my legs. It’s — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail, it’s sliding between my legs and stroking me as it unwinds from my thigh and oh my gods it feels so good, how am I supposed to survive—? “Mm ah fuck!”

His tail is gone. His arms are around me. “Was that okay?”

I am fucking gasping. “You tease,” I choke out.

He laughs, his lips close to mine. “Not a tease. I’m going to carry through, I promise.” Mmm, he’s kissing me again, he’s so fucking yummy, and he’s untying his trousers and I’m vibrating and I can hardly keep fucking still—

He pushes his trousers down and his cock is out. His cock, it’s hard, he’s hard — oh my god his cock. It’s gorgeous. I mean, it’s a cock, cocks are always a little funny-looking, I don’t know how folks who’ve got ‘em can cope with them, but Dammon’s is out and it’s gorgeous — fuck me yes he’s stroking it I want to do that.

I push his hand away, replace it with mine, and he gasps. “Ah—”

I kiss him. I’m stroking him, I’m walking him back toward the bed, he falls onto the bed and I’m climbing onto him and gasping into his mouth and stroking this thick pretty cock of his—

His hands are in my hair. “Karlach, slow down,” he gasps. “Slow down for a minute, all right?”

Fuuuck, fuck fuck, I can’t. No, I have to, I have to slow down for him. “Help me,” I beg. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s all right,” he pants, and he presses his horns to mine. “Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

I nod. Breathe, I can do that, that’s totally something I can do. Just breathe. I close my eyes, I feel the sweet ridges of his horns against mine, I feel his breath tickling my lips because he’s breathing too, I feel — woah yes, that’s his tail. His tail-barb is tracing my lower spine, tracing lower still — eep he poked my bum!

I burst out a laugh. “You rotter!”

He laughs, too: fuck me, I adore his laugh. He’s laughing against my lips, his tail-barb is gliding down over my bum… oh fuck, it’s moving down to my thigh, around my thigh, drifting between my legs, is he going to—? Oh gods Dammon please yes!

“Yes!” I gasp — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail oh my gods I’m going to explode.

“Easy, Karlach,” he whispers. His hands cradle my neck, perfect callused hands, fuck his tail is petting me, caressing me, touching parts of me that I’ve been dreaming of being touched for years — ah yes that’s the fucking spot right there, right there fuck right there yes!

“Dammon,” I mewl — yes, I fucking mewled like a cat, I’m mewling and my back is arching like I’m a bitch in heat, but really? That’s exactly what I am. I’m in fucking heat for this man. I’m burning for him, burning for more of this, burning alive with his tail petting that red-hot little button of love. Dammon’s breathing hard, too, his fingers gripping my hair and his hips moving under me while his tail-barb does its work between my legs. It’s like he’s getting desperate too, so desperate that he can’t keep still while his tail is petting me, and I love that he’s getting desperate. I want him to unravel just like I’m doing now. I want to hear him moaning, I want to see him bucking his hips for more, I want — I want him so badly, I want this so much, it’s happening right now and I still want it like it’s out of my reach. How does that make any sense? Why am I longing for something while it’s happening right now, right here, with this insanely beautiful man I’ve been fantasizing about since I first clapped eyes on him?

Oh fuck, why am I getting emotional?

He strokes my hair. “Hey, are you okay?”

Oh gods, there’s a moan to his voice already. He’s breathing hard like he’s the one being touched, like he’s the one who’s getting tail-fucked more perfectly than even my best fantasies — ah, fuck me, his touch, the way his tail is rubbing my clit just right, it’s so — he’s so, so fucking perfect, he feels so right, this feels so right: Dammon’s hands in my hair, his body under mine, his tail petting my cunt and his lips breathing into mine… My gods, I’m so… he’s so, this is, I’m… fuck, I’m so close, I’m getting closer, I’m going to fucking blow I’m going to—

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesfuckmeican’tbreatheohmygods kiss me Dammon fucking kiss me���

His tongue in my mouth. Moaning, is that me or him? No idea, who cares, I’m a fucking inferno. Everything sparking, like lightning under my skin and scorching my throat in the best fucking way, all because of him.

His lips leave mine. His voice, husky and soft. “You all right?”

I whimper. Still vibrating. No words, can’t talk. Need him to fuck me.

He strokes my broken horn, strokes my cheek. “You’re burning blue, Karlach.”

I sure fucking am. Burning blue, burning alive in ways that I didn’t think I ever would again, and it’s all because of him. It’s all him, it’s Dammon — his sunshine smile, his jewel-pretty eyes the colour of a summer sky: I’m burning blue, all because of him.

I nuzzle his ear. “I’m going to ride you until you see stars, soldier.”

He laugh-moans. “Yes please. I’m all for that.”

He’d better be, because I can’t hold back now. I can’t do slow now. I am on, on-on-on like I’ve never been before, and I’m sitting upright on his lap and I’m stroking his cock while he grips my thighs — gods I want to taste him, I want his come in my mouth, no no I’ll save that for later, I need him inside of me right fucking now—

Fuck yes he’s inside me fuck yes. Dammon is inside of me, and he feels like fucking heaven.

He groans, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. “Gods, Karlach!”

I take it back: hearing my name like that is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I stroke his chest — beautiful chest, beautiful ridges of his ribs — then I brace myself on his abs and start fucking him hard.

He groans, arches his neck in a way that makes me want to bite him (ha, don’t tell Astarion!): oh, my sweet fucking gods, he feels amazing. His cock is driving into me so hard, so sweet and hard that I’m making noise with every stroke, and he’s making noise too and gripping my thighs — ah, his tail, it’s coiling around my forearm in a way that makes my tummy flutter, and his eyelids are fluttering too like he’s really letting loose, which I love to see. I love seeing him like this, I love seeing him looking as good as he makes me feel, and fuck does he ever make me feel good. His thick fucking cock, the hot driving punch of it reaching so deep… Holy fucking hells, I missed this, I missed it so fucking much, and it’s so much better than I remembered. Dammon’s solid body under mine, his strong smithy’s hands on my hips and thighs, his tail squeezing my arm like the way he holds my hand, and those eyes: his beautiful eyes, the way he’s watching me under his half-lidded eyes while I ride him like my life hinges on his cock… Fuck me, did it ever really feel like this? Was it ever really this good?

Wait, wait a second: was sex ever this fucking good before?

I’m staring at Dammon now. Just staring at this kind and gorgeous man who’s filling me up within an inch of my life, and I… I don’t know that it’s ever been like this. I don’t know that it ever has been this good before. Sex is always great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s never… My gods, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt so… so close. So right. Fuck, it’s never felt as right as it does right now with him — how fucking weird is that? We’re in an abandoned inn in a place that’s been cursed to the shadows for a hundred years, and it’s somehow the most right that I’ve ever felt while being naked with another soul.

Wait, though: it gets even weirder. I’m with Dammon, an infernal smith who I might never have even spoken to if it wasn’t for the engine in my chest — the engine that’s slowly burning me alive. If I didn’t have this damned thing in my chest, I wouldn’t be here with him. We wouldn’t be here together doing this.

I’m having the time of my fucking life right now with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met because of something that’s going to kill me.

No, no no no, stop it brain, don’t think about it—

“Hey.” He’s sitting up on one elbow — no, he’s pushing himself upright and reaching for my cheek. “Hey, hey now, are you okay—”

I kiss him. I shove my tongue into his mouth and grip his neck, and I fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. I fuck him like this is it, like this is the only chance we’ll have and I have to show him how much this means, how good this is and how good it is because of him, because it’s him, Dammon: it’s Dammon’s body under mine, and his hand and his tail holding me, it’s all him, and I need him to know that there’s nothing I wanted more in this world than to be with him.

He breaks from my lips with the most incredible groan. “Ah, Karlach—”

I nuzzle his ear. “I want you so bad, Dammon. I want you more than anything.”

He groans again — gods, if only you could bottle a noise and keep it for later. “I’m all yours. I promise.”

My gods, what a promise. What a thing to say, what a thing to hear from someone who’s so fucking good. And now I don’t know what to say, my tongue’s a knot, my throat’s getting thick — gods, just fuck him already, just wring the pleasure out of him like he did for you.

I fuck him. I’m riding him hard. I’m bouncing on his beautiful cock and staring at his beautiful face while it crinkles up with pleasure — come for me, Dammon, I want you to. I really want him to, I want his come more than anything in the world, I want him to let it all go inside of me — oh yes, good boy, he’s getting even harder, he’s getting harder inside of me oh my gods fuck I know he’s going to come—

“A-ah, please, y-yes—!” He kisses me, Dammon is kissing me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth and his hand firm at the back of my neck, he’s shuddering and pulsing deep inside — yes, I can feel him giving me his come, and I want it all. I’m fucking hungry for it, for every last drop of him, every little bit of proof that this was me and him together: Dammon and Karlach, Karlach and Dammon, two hells-touched tieflings finding our little place of light among the shadows.

He breaks our kiss and presses his horns to mine again. “Gods,” he pants. “Gods alive. You are… incredible.” He laughs, this husky I’m-out-of-breath-because-I’ve-been-fucking kind of laugh, and I swear I’d give my unbroken horn to be able to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it is.

He leans away a little and strokes my hair. “How are you feeling?”

Gods, look at him: he’s perfect. He said I was burning blue, but I swear on my life, his eyes are incandescent. They’re the brightest, most electric blue I’ve ever seen in my life, and it’s like they’re scorching my soul, branding this amazing moment deep into me so that it’ll never be forgotten, no matter what comes next.

Fuck, I feel so full. I’m so… my chest, my throat, my entire fucking soul feels full. Oh no, my eyes feel full too, oh no — don’t do this, Karlach, don’t you dare.

“I—” Oh fuck, I’m sobbing. I’m sobbing? Why now, why?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here, it’s okay.” He’s tucking my head against his neck — oh my gods, I’m falling apart. He’s hugging me, his tail is stroking my back like he’s comforting a child, which is funny ‘cause I’m weeping like a baby. No, not weeping: I’m fucking bawling. That’s fantastic, Karlach, that’s just great, let’s just bawl all over the gorgeous smith while his cock is still in me.

Okay, that’s kind of funny, but… Fuck, I can’t stop crying. It’s all just coming out now, everything, all the stuff that’s been going on: the tadpole, my engine, the shadow curse and how fucking awful it is here, Lae’zel almost dying at the crèche and Mizora being a fucking bitch to Wyll and Astarion making his snarky little jokes like he’s not dead-scared of Cazador. I’m just fucking sobbing, I’m howling for me and them and everything, and more stuff keeps coming out: Gortash, Zariel, Avernus, Mum and Dad — everything, it’s just fucking everything, it’s all the things, so much shit I haven’t cried about for years, and it’s all coming out on poor Dammon because he’s hugging me.

Dammon is hugging me. He’s just hugging me while I cry all over him, hugging me tight like I haven’t been hugged in fucking years, and I don’t know if I can stop.

I do stop, eventually, when it feels like every tear in my body is on his neck instead of in my eyes. When I finally stop crying, he speaks. “Are you all right?”

Gods be damned, his soft voice, his hand petting my back… He’s going to make me cry again. “I’m okay,” I say. “Stuffy, but okay.” I lift my head — eurgh, yep, lots of tears and snot on his neck. Real attractive, Karlach, really sexy stuff.

“Sorry.” I wipe my face real quick and start wiping his neck. “Sorry. That’s gross. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You needed that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Oh hells, now he’s wiping my cheeks… Did someone make this man on purpose to turn me into the world’s meltiest puddle? He’s wiping my cheeks and looking at me in that so-soft way with his beautiful soft eyes… Oh boy, I’m a goner. If I wasn’t already all fluttery for him, I’m a total loss now.

He strokes my shoulder. “Do you have to head back to your camp?”

No way. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with him and make this night last forever. Don’t say that, though, you’ll sound like a limpet. “I can stay for a while,” I say, all casual-like. “If you want, I mean. I — unless you have to sleep? You probably have to get up early for the forge—”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I can get up whenever, that doesn’t matter. Either way, if you — if you don’t have to get back, maybe…” He clears his throat — aw, he’s looking shy! Why is he looking shy? “Maybe you’d like to stay the night? With me, I mean?”

He wants me to stay? He wants me to stay! “Yes! I mean—” Oh gods, I’m laughing now. “Yes. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiles — oh gods, that killer smile. He’s going to destroy me with that smile before the night is through, I swear. “Great! That’s — that’s really great. Okay.” He laughs a little and strokes my arm. “Maybe I can take my trousers off, if that’s okay with you?”

“Your—?” I twist around on his lap to look — ha, oh shit, his trousers are down around his calves, and he’s still wearing his boots!

I laugh and climb off of him. “You didn’t take them off? Bit eager, are we?”

“Me? You didn’t give me a chance! So much for slowing down.” He’s grinning now as he pulls off his boots, and he’s so damned pretty that all I can do is smile back at him. Gods, I really am a goner.

He drops his boots on the floor. He’s totally naked now, naked and warm and perfect, and I don’t want to waste another second not touching all of that perfect naked skin.

I straddle him and wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles and strokes my hip. “Back for a second round already? I’m game, but I’ll need a little more time.”

I press my horns to his. “Dammon, I…” No, Karlach, don’t say it. Don’t tell him what you’re feeling, it’s way too soon. It is too soon, right? It’s too soon to know if this is just lust or if it’s something more, right? Something so much more, so much bigger that it feels like it’s filling my entire damn body… I can’t know yet for sure that this is what I think it is, can I? Fuck, I’m breathing all shaky. Stop it, K, don’t cry again, just don’t.

He strokes my neck — gods, his magical hands on my skin, I can’t get enough. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Take your time. Talk when you’re ready.”

I nod, and I kiss him. For the dozenth time tonight, I’m kissing Dammon, melting under his soft lips and tasting his tongue and feeling every inch of my skin coming to life under his hands, and I can’t be fucking bothered with talking. Who cares about words or talking or even thinking when there’s this, when there’s him? Not me, that’s for sure. All that matters is being here with Dammon, skin-to-skin with him like all my hottest dreams, and I don’t give a shit about anything else.

Tonight, I’m burning blue for him. And that’s all that fucking matters.

[lanafofana]

The chronic pain do be chronic-ing today so have some edible induced ranting :) 

I hate when you’re on the dock and Gale’s like I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna give the crown to Mystra. And tav/durge is like and then you’ll be Mystra’s chosen again! 

What? What? What?! 

I understand that his character growth is about trusting in the goddess to understand how the crown should be handled and following through with his oath in a bid for redemption. 

I get that, in surrendering the crown, he is finally accepting that who he is is enough, not only for his lover but also, for himself. 

But, larian, I have spent an entire [redacted] talking my companions down from the precipice and severing their blind devotion to their deities so why the FUCK am I suddenly like yaaas embrace the chosen status! Fuck agency! 

(Remember how Gale accepted/understood that Elminster had no choice but to charge him with self detonation because he was bound by the duty of being Mystra’s chosen??) 

Especially as someone who romanced him and saw him up close and personal at his absolute lowest when he was damn near willing to jump out any window he came across because he thought fatal penance was the only redeeming path open to him.  

And to be clear I’m not in the Mystra hate camp, I get why you would be but I think she acted in typical ‘nothing matters more than The Balance’ god fashion. If anything, I kinda headcanon that Gale had an intrinsic touch of fate/destiny about him that probably drew her attention. She may not have known or understood exactly what the nature of that fate/destiny was and, eventually realizing the danger the Absolute posed to gods as well as mortals, simply misinterpreted it. She, as well as everyone, was making decisions based on the information available as well as the wisdom of past experience (cough Karsus). 

Something I don’t see talked about much, and maybe it’s because I’m usually too deeply entrenched in my Halsin brainrot to look for, is how power hungry Gale is. When he’s convincing you that he should be allowed to pursue godhood he tries to convince you that, morally, he’s going to be so much better than the other gods. There’s an option to say something like Morality? Who cares about morality? Think of the power! And Gale’s response? Could not be more chuffed. He’s like OMG YOU GET ME. 

And…like, his pursuit of power is not just based in thinking he’s not good enough. Before he was knocked down several pegs by the orb sucking away the majority of his powers, he very much considered himself good enough. He desired power, lusted after it so much, he was willing to ignore the wisdom of the goddess of magic herself. True he was pursing it out of a misplaced devotion to the diety he loved but he was still pig headed enough to pursue it. The man had confidence coming out of his ears. I 100% believe if he had understood the nature of the Karsite weave and had knowledge of the Crown’s existence he could have been the Big Bad of Baldur’s Gate 3 instead of the Dead Three. 

Anyways, what was I saying? Uhhhh yeah! So his path to redemption is very much about relinquishing that lust for power. Power for its own sake, as well as power as a balm for his crippling self doubt. Self doubt he only acquired because he was one of the most powerful and gifted wizards of his time and had the majority of his powers stripped from him for reasons he didn’t fully understand. 

And telling him how great that he can finally return to being Mystra’s chosen feels like erasing that agency he’s finally found for himself. 

Anyway, I hate it. Fuck being chosen. 

I need a nap.

[trashbag-baby666]

Because Theo CANNOT read…let me try again… so sorry bestie <3 @umika anyways enjoy!!

mota masterlist!

•Surprisingly enough, the first and only time Gale has asked John to dance with him was in the control tower on VE Day.

•He had taken a few bitter shots from John’s flask and he began to reflect on the war…the one that just came to an end. He begins to think about if they would send them over to the Pacific…they wouldn’t want to due to their pow statuses. But if there truly was that much of a shortage of pilots…

•John can tell Gales brain is completely lost in hypothetical thoughts.

“Think you maybe had too much.” John plucked the silver flask from Gales hands screwing the lid back on.

“I’m doin’ just fine, John.” Gales eyes were closed and his head tilted back. The sound of the cheering and insistent partying providing a comfortable background noise to the silence. But John doesn’t get a chance to press him anymore, Gale’s stood infront of him holding out his hand.

“You wanna dance?”

•John’s cheeks lit up rosy and he was utterly surprised. He’s up in an instant with his arms around Gales neck like they were at some junior homecoming dance.

“You’re not gonna get all philosophical on me, are ya?” John rested his head on top of Gales, the imaginary beat of the imaginary song in his head. His hands on the small of Gales back, the familiar smell of that pine aftershave wafting and mixing with John’s whiskey and cigarette smell. It’s what they smelled like.

•They staid there for a long time, just swaying softly. John pondering what he even did to deserve this, he should be dead but he isn’t. He gets the privilege so many other good better men than him will never get again.

•He thinks about Curt and how he should be here with them. Interrupting their soothing romance with loud gagging sounds or the sounds of Curt’s own lips on Ken’s. He thinks about the war widows too. He thinks about his brief stint at being a war widow…what would Gale even think if he knew about the way he acted. He probably already did…certainly the other guys had told him when they beat him to Stalag.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Gale ran a hand back through John’s pomaded hair, messing it up without a care. It was only a matter of maybe minutes before he’d have his hands in John’s hair riding him like he’ll never get to again.

“You,” John pecked a kiss to Gale’s, soft lips, “Think Chick will know if we do it on the floor?”

“Wouldn’t chance it. Although, Ken knew last time we were up in a bomber.” Gale shrugged nonchalantly a menacing smirk on his lips.

“Wars over, my little Kriege Marconi .” And for a moment it was over for them. They would be sent up but not before both’s anxiety could get built and worried about the state of the pacific theater.

[sassyandclassy94]

10 Questions for 10 Writers

Thank you SO much for the tag, @coneygoil !! You have no idea how much I love being included in these things🫶🏻

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

Sadly, it’s just a hobby. My life’s kinda too busy to make it a lifestyle

2. A journal full of notes, or a clean completed manuscript?

A clean completed manuscript, thank you very much. Which is pretty ironic, given I’m a pretty chaotic woman.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

SwanFire and ThePhoenixFeatherQuill. I went through a Once Upon a Time phase became a huge SwanFire shipper after my first rewatch and one night while I was lying in bed, I looked up SwanFire fanfics. The Phoenix’s masterlist was like, the first or second search result? So I clicked on it when lo and behold! The Spinner’s Son captured my interest. I clicked on it and fell in love. I looked for other medieval AUs but couldn’t find any so naturally, after seeing posts about writing what you went to read, I decided to try my own hand at writing one.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Well… I’m not a singer (I sing WITH people sometimes) so, definitely having someone I look up to read my first draft. I remember when Red (an awesome writer who I also look up to and tumblr friend - check out his Into the Woods, it’s amazing!!) told me he checked out Secrets, Lies and Blessings after we met and started interacting during covid. I was mortified and wanted to crawl into a hole.

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

Um, maybe….? I delved into OC stuff this year and wrote a fic about Gale Cleven. Two people with totally different personalities and characterization than Baelfire and Emma so, I guess yes? Maybe it didn’t change my perspective but it’s helped me grow as a writer maybe? I don’t know, maybe I don’t understand this question…?

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 and FFN by far!! They’re my favorites and go-tos. I started out on those babies! I think FFN is slowly dying though😔

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

105,744 - No, I wish it was higher. If it was it’d mean I’m more prolific.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

Once Upon a Time started my writing hobby. I needed Neal to be happy and I was gonna write that, darn it! But with running out of ideas, writing SwanFire for 6 years straight, and going through a kind of heartbreak, I got really burnt out and kinda stopped for a while. It was The Boys in the Boat and Masters of the Air that inspired me to start writing again❤️ Don and Gale, man! They have a hold on me!!

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

That my writing is better than I give it credit for. And yes, Red told me that four years ago. He said it more articulate than that though (former English teacher and all, lol!) and him saying that made me feel a little more confident in my writing. I’ve gotten some pretty nice compliments about keeping my characters’ personalities true to canon and that’s pretty high praise too because I go real out of my way to do that.

10. What defines your writing style?

I… don’t even know? Even though most of my stories are romance, there’s also a heavy emphasis on friendship because a good old fashioned friendship is important to me (e.g. Emma and Eleanor). Theyre also very emotional. Whether it’s someone falling in love, preparing for parenthood, or suffering from PTSD, I want my readers to feel what he/she is going through and to be able to relate to them on a personal and intimate level.

Tags: Not me racking my brain to think of all the writers who follow and/or engage with me, and/or are in my notes🤕 @phoenixwrites @ljf613 @solo-pitstop-vibes @okieedokes @swanfireprincessmydear @fictional-at-heart @redbone135 @heatherfield @strangethings-everywhere @plasmabluefire @themeepyfreak And whatever other writer sees this and wants to participate, please consider yourself tagged! You can even say I tagged you. I want you all, especially new writers, to be included🫶🏻 No cliques in SassyAndClassy’s house!!! Oh my gosh is that ten??? DID I DO IT???? We won’t talk about how long that took me to come up with all of you🥴 I hope none of you will be annoyed that I tagged you🫣

[firstknightvulion]

So, I’ve got this idea for my Drow Tav. He’s a Seladrine Drow with a huge hate boner for his Lolth-Sworn kin. And I’m planning to romance Minthara on a good(ish) playthrough.

Hear me out.

He agree’s to destroy the grove. Deceitfully. Then after the agreement he turns on her and knocks her out. She got bamboozled and beaten by someone she considered the lowest of the low. He doesn’t even bother to kill her just to twist the knife further that she was beneath his notice.

Then they get to Moonrise.

Tav: *smiling at the fact that her life is dependent on him again* I’m gonna save her. As a joke.

Later, in the dungeon.

Tav: *smug smiling down at an imprisoned Minthara* I’m rescuing you. Ironically.

Then it just snowballs with the justifications.

Tav: I let her join the party. It amuses me.

Tav: We’re fighting side by side. Sarcastically.

Tav: We’re opening up about shared trauma. Flippantly.

Tav: We’re having sex. It is full of wholeness and understanding. As satire.

Tav: We call each other Alurlssrin. Sardonically.

Gale: Tav, do…do you know what satire or sardonic means?

Tav: *looking up from going down on his not-wife* Of course. I find this very funny. *goes back to eating like a starved man*

They go on to conquer Menzoberranzan. Jokingly, of course.

I don’t know. I have a head cold and it was funnier in my head.

[wylstarion]

good morning i was tagged by the lovely @tacticalgrandma

rules: in a rb or separate post, post the last sentence you wrote in any of your wips (original, fanfic, etc), and tag as many people as there are words.

I’m feeling very generous today so I’m just gonna give y’all a snippet of my bloodweave fine dining AU that I’ve been working on. It’s way more than a single sentence LOL.

anyways i’ll tag some of my moots: @koalamatcha @butnodamage @yeahyouresocool and @foxflowering

if y’all have anything ur working on feel free to share a bit :) (no pressure tho)

“Listen, darling, I’ve had a lot of dalliances, so we really don’t have to think much of it,” Astarion’s words were sharp, an edge to his voice that was almost mean. “Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I expect you to confess your undying love to me.”

Astarion watched Gale’s face for a moment, watching for cracks. It was easy to try to find ways to get under the man’s skin. They were quite practised in provoking each other by now, it seemed.

Gale scowled at Astarion, running his hands along the front of his apron. He took two steps forward, eyes sparking with something unreadable.

“I wouldn’t describe it as undying love, per se. Maybe something closer to provokation, an enthrallment perhaps,”

“Enthrallment?” Astarion couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. “Like I’ve cast some spell over you, really? I didn’t know you enjoyed it that much,”

“And you didn’t?” Gale stepped closer now, Astarion could see the way his jaw flexed as he spoke, a sudden urge to reach out and run his fingers over the soft stubble of his beard overcoming him. Astarion balled his fists, cursing his own brain for egging on his terribly inconvenient attraction to this rather grating chef.

“I never said that,” Astarion found himself rising to Gale, face to face as he struggled to calm his drumming heartbeat. “I kissed you, you fool, of course I liked it. I’m simply not the relationship type, and I’m not looking for romance and courtship like I’m sure you’re accustomed to,”

Gale laughed then, a rich and warm sound. He stepped further into Astarion’s space, Astarion’s back flush with the stainless steel countertops. He leaned forward, full lashes framing a shimmering golden brown gaze that seemed to pin Astarion in place.

He was close now, close enough Astarion could feel the cold metal of the mini fridge against his hips. Gale’s breath was warm against his lips, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke and citrus. His chest pressed close enough that Astarion could feel the sharp outlines of the pens he kept in his front pocket against his own silken shirt. Astarion couldn’t help the way his breath caught, his traitorous head lulling backwards ever so slightly, eyes flickering for a moment as Gale pressed closer into him.

“Who said I’m looking for romance, Astarion?” Astarion’s name sounded so sweet, far too pleasant in Gale’s soft, sultry tone. For a brief minute, Astarion wondered how sweet his name would sound poured from Gale’s mouth in a tone far raspier, far needier. The thought left a pit of desire deep in his gut. He was teasing, but his tone revealed more than he likely wanted. There was earnesty, and an almost eagerness. Desire matched with desire.

“It’s like I can’t get you off my mind since that night,” Gale was practically agog with want. How he had made it so far with practically no filter and so much unfettered earnesty, Astarion would never know. “I can’t stop thinking about touching you, kissing you. I want to do it again,”

He was annoyingly honest. The hard part of Astarion’s mind wanted to brush him off, to tell him not to sound so desperate. Hypocritical, when Astarion knew that he hadn’t been able to think of anything except Gale for the last 48 hours.

His mind beamed with memories of his touch, the softness of his lips, his rough hands cascading through Astarion’s hair, grabbing at it so frantically. He kissed like he was drowning, all consuming and feverish. Images of Gale pressing him against jagged bricks, the scent of Gale’s shampoo mixing with the familiar homely scent of their restaurant. Astarion could still feel the pressure of his lips, the way his tongue licked into his mouth and left him wanting, wandering hands that groped and grasped his body with such reverence, copious amounts of alcohol and desperate pleasure diluting the better parts of his senses. It was heady, intoxicating, and almost downright maddening with how quickly it caused Astarion’s knees to buckle, blood rushing to his face in what surely was a humiliating blush across his cheeks.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Astarion had the forethought to raise his hand to Gale’s chest, half-heartedly trying to push him away. They really shouldn’t be doing this here. “Service starts in an hour, chef, and I would really prefer none of our coworkers see us like this,”

“I need to hear you say it,” Gale moved to grasp at Astarion’s wrist, his finger’s clasping over Astarion’s pulse point. His other hand pressed against the steel of the countertops. An impish smile spread across his face, now keenly aware of how fast Astarion’s heart was racing. Astarion was caged against his frame and the line, the icy metal a thrilling contrast against his quickly warming skin.

“You’re absolutely insufferable, do you know that?” Astarion snipped, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes grew wide at Gale’s touch, a soft gasp leaving his lips as Gale squeezed at his wrist. “We make out once and now you’re practically smitten!”

He hissed as Gale leaned his weight into the counter, the masculine angles of his face framed by loose hairs falling from his updo, his eyes searching Astarion’s expression for any signs of discomfort.

“Tell me you want this,” Gale’s voice was a murmur against his lips, and Astarion’s mind sang with desire. It was infuriating, how quickly this vexing, bloviating man could have Astarion flustered, weak in the knees and practically keening against his touch. “Tell me you want me to touch you again,”

Fuck.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat. Any sour words, any snappy denials he had at the forefront of his mind seeming to disappear as Gale’s eyes met his, soft and sincere. His expression was intense, but he didn’t move any further. Astarion relished in the weight of him, the warmth that spread through his body at every point of contact.

Fine. Astarion thought to himself. If this foolish, wide-eyed man wanted to try his hand at seduction, Astarion could do the same.