#tav reader

[witchysfics]

Paint me

author's note : This is unedited.

Gale asks Tav to paint runes on him for a magical experiment. Fluff, and little bit risqué, if you squint.

The ink was slippery and cold as you plunged your fingers into its seemingly unending darkness. The substance quickly slid down your fingers has you hurriedly rushed over to your "canvas".

Gale sat in front of you, his back towards you. Top half bare so you may be able to paint the magic runes onto his skin. The muscles in his back stiffened ever so slightly as you made contact, beginning the first rune.

Gale had come to you for a favor, a rather.... intimate one, he described it. Your task was to paint magic runes onto his body so that he may better attune to the magic he wished to learn of. It seemed simple enough, you watched him these past days struggle with concentrating on spells in this particular study. He could use a little help it seemed.

Being a magic wielder yourself you were able to understand the concept, of course all of this was just theory, but who where you to turn away an opportunity to uncover more about the use of magic?

Maybe this magical body paint would work and you could use it more in the future. It could come in handy when you need to attune to spells without any notice to the individuals around you. Even small spells could be written onto skin and used as quick reactions against a foe.

Gale was quick to complain about the temperature of the ink as you dragged your finger along his shoulder blade. He shivered, peering over his shoulder at you, "Must it be so cold? Couldn't you have picked a different medium?" He whined, "One less.... frigid?"

You picked your eyes up from your work to look into his. He looked teasing, eyes squinted from the small smile he directed toward you, You huffed drawing your attention back to the work before you, "Squid's ink is a good conductor for magical properties. My theory is that it will help you feel the momentum of the magic through each rune as you cast." Gazing at your finger tips, "You're not the only one suffering, my fingers will be stained for days now."

"Stained?!" Gale cried. "You've ruined my beautiful body with inky stains?" He half joked, his face turning into mock anger.

"You're being dramatic, you asked for my help." You retaliated, "You said you trusted my judgment as one who "worked within the Weave.""

"Seems I was wrong to put my trust in you then." Gale's words were harsh, but the playful tone in his voice told otherwise. You gently turned his face away so he was looking forward again and he chuckles.

"If you keep distracting me this cold ink will only stay on for longer."

"Your fingertips will keep me warm enough any how."

"Gale."

"Right sorry, distractions."

Your face warmed at his comment. Gale was not shy at all when it came to comments like that, but you could never tell if his words were just his Gale nature or if they were laced with more. Your poor heart couldn't take it. This task might as well be torture. How could he ask this of you when you harbored such great feelings for him?

Your fingers traced down the expanse of his back once more, painting the final rows of inky runes.

You clapped, signaling you finished your work. Gale turned, looking into the mirror off to the side of him to get a better look at the runes on his back.

"Marvelous!" He exclaimed.

You let out a breath as you began packing away the ink, having mixed feelings about ending this intimate painting.

Just as you were to begin the journey back to your tent Gale called out to you.

"Where are you going? We aren't finished."

You turned looking back at him with a confused expression.

"There's more my dear." He said flipping the page of his book, showing you the other half of the runes.

You cocked a brow at him, "And where is the rest meant to go? There is no more room on your back."

He cleared his throat, looking nervous? His voice was soft when he spoke, "On the front half."

"Oh" was all you breathed out in realization.

You slowly made your way back to your original spot while he watched you patiently. He sat on his knees, this time facing you. You were able to see how much broader Gale was then you when his back faced you, but now? He towered over you now too, if you were to lower your head he would be unable to see your face. You were thankful for this as you opened the bottle of squid's ink and balanced it on your lap.

Looking back up at him you flashed you a nervous smile yet cheesy smile.

He's adorable.

Glancing down to his chest you were able to see the imprint of his unfortunate past with magic. You'd never seen it so clearly before. The twisting lines that curled up his neck was all that you had been able to see till now. Seeing the tattoo that once caused him great pain, now calmed, felt so meaningful it pulled at your heart. How long had a gazed at this mark and felt nothing but remorse and heartbrokenness? Does he still feel that way now even with his new "control" over it?

You bit your lip, lost in thought. Gale noticed your lingering eyes. Gently taking your hand in his he placed it on mark softly. Your eyes meet briefly as he gave you anxious but encouraging smile. Your featherlight fingers traced it, ink free and memorizing its pattern. He let out a soft noise, shuttering under your touch. Was it from the softness of your touches or from the vulnerability of the moment neither he nor yourself were sure.

He sighed dreamily, watching you. "You don't have to worry about it impeding on the runes. You should be able to paint over it just fine." He chuckled, "its a mer regrettable tattoo now." He joked but you knew he would never be able to see it that way.

Your brow furrowed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't frown love, this is the mark of the weapon that ends the dreaded absolute!"

"It won't come to that." you say firmly. "I won't let it come to that."

He doesn't say anything in response, but when you look up and see him quickly wipe one of his eyes you decide you don't need an answer.

The space between you grows comfortbly quite as you begin your painting once again.

You feel his eyes as you paint across his chest and you can't help but to feel like a squirming mess under his gaze.

"You know you can stop watching me like a teacher watches their apprentice. I'm able to handle a few simple ruins." You say in a matter-a-fact tone.

He hums. "I know. You have proven to me that you are very capable."

"Then you don't need to stare so intensely."

"That is not the reason I stare anyway."

"Why do you stare then?"

He pauses when you stop to look up at him. "Is it so wrong to watch beauty as they work?" His eyes gleam of something awaiting your response.

You have no response for him, unfortunately. Well, not a verbal one at least, as your jaw hangs slack and finger stops mid swipe. You blink rapidly and clear your throat trying to recompose yourself. Eyes averted from his you attempt to recover the rune you just scribbled out, you squeak, "You- your.... What did I say about being a distraction Gale?"

He threw his head back with laugher and you could only assume you gave him the response he was looking for.

You finish the last rune while he continues to laugh. You gaze up at him again while his head remains back, laughing, his throat on full display.

The air around him becomes filled with a different type of tension as you take this opportunity to begin the runes that were meant to be painted on his neck.

His boisterous laughing comes to a small choke when you place your inky index and middle finger on his throat and pull them down. He gulps visually and lets out a strained moan. Your fingers continue down his throat and end at the expanse of his sternum.

He looks down at you still with his head back, his mouth ajar as your voice fills his ears.

"Oh, don't become distracted Gale. I'm nearly finished." You say, your voice like velvet. While he stammers for a response you dip both of your hands in the ink, preparing for the final part of the spell

He attempts to say something else, but whatever it was is cut off by a dreamy sigh as you place both your inky hands on his face and drag your fingers down the sides of his neck while your thumbs drag down the front of his throat. You connect the inky lines to the runes toward the middle of his chest.

You prop yourself onto your knees so you tower above him. He watches you eyes unblinking and unable to look away as you place your index finger on his lips. Drawing a line down his chin and connecting it to the stripes on his throat. The final inky blob of the rune.

His eyes, half lidded with want? Desire? His face dark red from, nervousness? Arousal?

You don't get a good enough moment to look before you pick up you squid's ink and remove yourself from your flustered "canvas".

"Let me know how the spell goes Gale!" You say to him as you turn to leave. "Oh and please let me know if ever need my connection with the Weave again for your... experiments."

footnote : This is my first bg3 fic! and this is a new blog. Requests are open and I will have rules soon but for now just request without reading them since I don't have them up yet. Pretty please request cause my head is empty lol. Thanks! - Witchy

<3

[succubusstarlight]

By The Grace of The Moon || Astarion x Werewolf!Selunite!Reader

Masterlist || Words: 2865

Started on 10/14/23- Finished on 1/6/24

AN: Dialogue later on may seem a bit ooc, as well as characters themselves. I had to look up and go back through dialogue to get lines right. I am also trying to keep the reader gender neutral and I will be referring to them as Tav later on. Enjoy my second writing and my first BG3 fic, more is defiantly on it's way. This is also only the FIRST part. I wrote more than I thought I would so I've decided to split them into parts. I'm writing more onto the second part so I'll try to have it up soon <3

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                Why would your goddess do this to you? Had you done something to anger your Silver Lady? No. You worshipped her beneath every beautiful moon she would raise. The twinkling of her stars were music to your ears. So why. Why did your heart stop when you met his piercing red eyes? Why did you get so scared when he would get injured? And why did you seek and crave his presence? A vampire. Your natural enemy.

                You had been cursed with Lycanthropy from a young age. Your parents had gone to any cleric or healer they could find. But none could help you condition. So they turned to Selune. Goddess of the moon. The very thing you would stare at every night. Waiting. Waiting to turn into a beast once its full beauty would light up the village you lived in. They started praying to her, crying out for help. And help she did.

                Your goddess sent down a light. It helped control you condition, keeping your beast from rampaging every month. You still had your enhanced abilities. Sight, smell, hearing, agility. And with research, your parents helped you though your young years with the continued worship of Selune.

                With that research, came a longing. Every young child dreams of love. And with your sickness, your Goddess promised you a love. A soulmate. One every Lycan is blessed with. You would dream of them every night as a child. How much they would love you, and you them. How you wedding would be like that of a fairytale read to little ones before bed. A large white dress, a beautiful train and the most hypnotizing of melodies playing as you danced the night away.

                But those dreams were halted that night. The night the Illithids appeared over your village. And you were forced to wake up. The tadpole that now squirmed in your head made you powers unpredictable. You feared how following nights would be.

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You had awoken on a beach, surrounded by the crashed ship that once held you prisoner. You couldn’t recall everything that happened, but you do remember fighting devils and imps with a Githyanki. ‘Lae’zel’, you recalled. You didn’t see her around anywhere, but also no body. ‘Hopefully she’s alive, she was strong so I doubt she got taken out by anything close by.’

Not too far in front of you lied a woman. Long dark hair held by chains, a dark circlet decorating her forehead. Slowly approaching, you could both hear her breath and see her chest heaving. In her hand was an oddly shaped…thing. Choosing to ignore is in favor of her wellbeing, you reached forward. Grasping her shoulders and shaking her awake.

“Wha- I’m alive? You’re alive.” Helping her to her feet, she looked around at the wreck that surrounded you. “How is this possible.”

“I’m not sure. Are you hurt? I don’t remember seeing you on the ship.” The Githyanki was the only person you came across. You had assumed there were others, but with the ship crashing and buring, you were in a bit of a rush to escape.

“Not that I know of. I remember being stuck in that pod. I think I saw you running away with another person. And then the ship crashed.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check for others. I wouldn’t have tried to help you.” You wrung your fingers together and looked down the beach, examining the path that stretched on. “What now?”

“I suppose we find a healer. What ever those monsters put into out heads can’t be good.”

                After making sure neither of you were injured and making proper introductions, learning her name was Shadowheart, you set forward and came across three of the brain creatures you had seen wandering the ship. They weren’t too tough to handle, but after getting rid of them your hearing picked up a static to your right.

                It was coming from a rune. An out of control looking rune, it’s magic swirling violently. As you reach out to touch the rune, a hand suddenly emerge from it and a voice immediately follows. “A hand? Anyone?” It was a male’s voice. Your senses hadn’t alerted you to any danger, so you reach to intertwine your hand with his, you other hand on his wrist.

                And with a strong pull, a body dawned in purple robes flew out from it. You stood and brushed your clothes off as he spoke his thanks. “Hello. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches forward to shake your hand. “Apologies, I’m normally better at these sorts of things.”

                “At introductions?” You shook is hand in return, a smirk passing your lips as you tried to lightly joke with him. It seemed to work, as he let out a small chuckle.

                “At magic. Say, but I know you, don’t I? I saw you, upon the nautilloid.” Gods, just how many people did you run past? With all the chaos happening you suppose your senses couldn’t keep up. But you didn’t realize just how many people were stuck in pods on the same ship.

                “I was, I guess I missed more people than I thought, had I seen you I assure you I would have done my best to help.” You looked him over for injuries but didn’t catch any scents of blood.

                “No worries. But I suppose it’s safe to say you were a victim too. On the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region?” He tapped the side of his head, right next to his eye no doubt referring to the worm that now infected your brain.

                “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Not the most pleasant experience I’ve dealt with in my life.” You crossed your arms and tilted your head, able to tell he wasn’t done talking yet.

                “Yes well, no use sugar coating it. This parasite we carry, are you aware that after a few days of extrusion gestation, it will turn us into mindflayers?” His pitched was raised in a slight panic. Understandable, you had a worm in your brain that’s going to turn you into tentacle monsters within a certain number of very painful days. “You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance, do you?”

                It was at this point that Shadowheart spoke up from behind you. “It seems you know enough about out condition to know that this is far beyond a cleric’s skill.”

                “Most, but I hope to be in the presence of the few who are able to help. You don’t happen to be one of them?” He eyed between you two.

                “No, I can treat most injuries and sicknesses, but I am no cleric.” You weren’t wrong. While you worshipped Selune and did almost everything in her name, you were not a cleric. More of a hunter who was able to make remedies and teas with herbs that you would scavenge for.

                “Well then, we’re most going to need a healer, and quite soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for one together?” He gestures between himself and you, raising a brow in anticipation. And with a shrug, Gale of Waterdeep was following your two man, now three man, party as you turned back to the direction you came from.

 Although, as you turned, a strong gust of wind brought you a wonderful smell. That of Rosemary, bergamot, and…brandy? Either way, it made you heart flutter and your feet move faster. You swiftly walked passed the creatures you had taken out, you thoughts running as the scent got stronger.

‘Is this it? This sweet scent, my aching and racing heart all point to it. My mate. They smell amazing. Nothing has smelt like this to me before. Selune, my lady of silver, if you have blessed with my mate after this tragedy I thank you.’

                Rounding over a small hill, you saw the source of the scent. A white-haired elf dressed in elegant purple clothing. Your body froze at the sight of him. It looked as if the heavens shown behind him as he turned to beckon you closer. And when he spoke, he sounded like an angel singing praise. “Hurry! I’ve cornered one of those brain things. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

                Snapping back to reality, you cleared your throat and nearly jumped at the chance to protect him. “Easily, step back.” You stepped forward, a slight pungent smell hit your nose. A boar shot out of the bushes as you jumped, the noise startling you. And from the corner of you eye, you noticed a glint. Spinning around you came face to face with your mate, holding a knife up at you in a defensive position.

                “I saw you on the ship, strutting about while I was trapped in that pod!” His knife raised higher as you shuffled away, holding your hands up in defense. “What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?” His voice was low as his red eyes glared into yours.

                “No! I was taken to! I had nothing to do with them.”

                “I’m not an idiot! I saw-agh!” He cried out as your minds merged. You were looking through his eyes and out to dark street. Lurking as people passed. But before you could look further, the image faded. “What was that? What’s going on?”

                You breath heaved as you looked deeper into his eyes, a small smile appearing as his knife lowered. “I-I don’t know, but something connected us.” Something other than my goddess.

                “It’s those monsters. Whatever they did you us caused that link. They took you too. I saw it.” He sighed and put away his weapon. “Ands to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” His voice truly was like music.

                “Apology accepted. I might have done the same if the roles were reversed.” I wouldn’t.

                “Ah~ A kindred spirit. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.” Astarion? Even his name is angelic. No wonder it’s taken so long for you to meet him. Your village was located a few days away from the big city. You never made trips there, only your father and hunting parties would make the travel. Selling crops, clothing and any other good your village made.

                “From the city? I lived quite a ways away. I was taken while hunting. I’m not sure how long it’s been.” It wasn’t entirely wrong. You were hunting but not the type people would assume. It was late when you were snatched. A beautiful moon guided your path as you ran after a deer, your paws silently hitting the ground as your muzzle snapped for its tail.

                “Oh? A hunter? That could be useful. So, do you know anything about these worms?” He placed his hands on his hips and raised a brow.

                “Yes. Unfortunately, they’ll turn us into mind flayers.” As if I couldn’t become more of a beast. Your thoughts though were swiftly cut by his scoff of disbelief.

                “Turn us into-ha…haha! Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?” His words trailed off as he looked to the dirt road beneath you. “Although…it hasn’t happened yet. If we find an expert, someone that can control these things- there still might be time.” He raised his hand to his chin in thought.

                If we find someone? He wanted to travel together? With you? “Y-you could come along with us. Our odds are better if we travel together.” Gods, do I sound desperate? Please take my offer.

                His eyes met yours again as a smirk formed on his face. “You know, I was ready to go this alone, but…maybe sticking with you isn’t such a bad idea.” Yes! A perfect idea. “You seem like a useful person to know.” His words seemed like they held something behind them, but you didn’t much care. As long as your mate followed. “Alright! I accept, lead on.”

                You could barely suppress the smile that tried to cross your face. “Ahem, alright. Let’s move then.” You cleared your throat and finally broke eye contact, looking further down the road and heading that direction. “I hear something ahead, we’ll start there.” As you walked passed him, his scent filled your nose once more. He truly did smell heavenly. I’ll keep him safe.

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Further down the trail, you had encountered a group of refugees begging at a gate. At the top were tieflings, refusing to open until their supposed leader showed up, demanding the gates be open as a pack of goblins appeared to attack. It didn’t take long for you to help defeat them and you quickly slipped through the gate with everyone, making sure your group was okay and mostly uninjured.

                You found yourselves in a Druid’s Grove. Although with their issues, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last. It was to be closed off soon and everyone but the druids themselves were to be kicked out. After communing with the leader of the tieflings, you had decided your day had been busy enough and had led your group to a clear spot deeper into the grove.

                You had all set up tents around a fire and laid out bedrolls for when you were all ready to sleep. As you finished setting out supplies and changing out of you day clothes, your gaze drifted over to your silver haired mate. He sat outside his tent, a thick book in his hands and his eyes lazily drifting over its contents. You quickly took a deep breath, muttering a quick ‘you got this’ before making your way over to his figure.

                Hearing your approach, he glanced up. “Yes?” Ouch, not the greeting I was hoping for. Did he not feel the connection you goddess had blessed you with? Even non-Lycans were rumored to feel something.

                You let out an embarrassing laugh and cleared your throat. “I uh- I was just wanting to check on you. What do you think about our journey so far?” You could tell me anything and I’d listen, please just talk to me.

                “Well, not much has happened. We’re in a grove that’s close to impending doom and we have worms in our brain. Pretty shit journey so far, wouldn’t you say.” Ok, so he’s not having a very good time right now, but who would? Defiantly not you.

                “That’s true. I’m sure we can find a healer here, they’re druids after all. Perhaps we’ll be rewarded if we help out with their little issue.” You let out a short chuckle but quickly closed you lips as a sneer appeared on his.

                “Help out? It’s not our issue. I say we find a healer and move on. No need to get caught up in fights that aren’t ours.” Okay, a little self-centered but it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with someone like him. And he’s pretty, so it’s ok.

                “You don’t think we, should help out? Even for a reward?” He shook his head, and stood, setting his book down to give you his full attention.

                “The reward better be big if we stick around to help a little war. Either way, I still don’t like it.” His eyes met yours. “Was there anything else?” Let’s turn to other matters.

                “Uuuhh, tell me a bit about yourself. It’s good to get to know each other if we’ll be traveling closely. What did you use to do in the city? I’ve never been so I want to know all about it.” I want to know all about you.

                He scoffed. “Oh what’s to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city, it’s all rather tedious.” A magistrate? I should have guessed he was in a position of high power; his clothes look like it.

                “A magistrate? That sounds cool. What’s the city like?” Don’t stop talking. I still want to know more about you.

                You couldn’t quite tell, but his eyes seemed to hold that of annoyance. You’re lucky that your ears and tails weren’t visible unless you were shifted. If they were, your laid-back ears and tucked tail would give away your worry to this. That’s possibly the last thing that you want right now, to upset your mate and annoy him.

                “Depends on the area I suppose. The main upper city is quite busy. Especially at night, people out and about, drinking and…well the whole city is busy. I don’t normally get out much though.” His sentence trailed off, a smirk crossing his face before it quickly vanished. “Now was there something else you wanted to talk about.”

                “Oh, umm, no. No I suppose that’s really it. Goodnight, Astarion, sleep well. I’ll be keeping watch so, you don’t have to worry about anything attacking.” I would gladly give up any sleep to make sure you’re protected.

                “Why thank you, Darling. I’ll surely sleep better knowing you’re watching.” And with his words, you would spend the night walking the perimeter of your camp with your heart racing and thoughts spinning out of control.

---

Masterlist || Part 2

[shenanitics]

Tales of the Hells: Reader!Tav x Raphael

warnings: Blood, violence, unhealthy dynamics, Raphael with a whip

-Pre-established Relationship-

 I

Raphael lures you in at first. His usual charm belies fury underneath, undetectable unless you know him. The first few times you actually fell for it, letting yourself believe that you actually dodged his wrath. 

Then his charm sloughs off and he turns cold, steely. He lets everything hang in the air unaddressed, giving you time to ruminate your guilt, or to guess what you’ve done to anger him. 

After a few minutes of anticipation, Raphael bites. He insults, he degrades, he lets the venom in his teeth tenderize you for what’s to come. 

And my, there is so very much coming. You’re reminded that Raphael is indeed a devil, and that you’re in hell. He scorches you with his blistering rage until every shred of defiance burns away and you’re completely bare to take it all again—this time raw and breaking. 

It’s hardly surprising that a devil has so much hell to give. It shouldn’t have surprised you then, when he wrenched one of Haarlep’s collars on your neck followed by a leash branded with the same infernal script.

“Walk.” Raphael commands as he yanks you towards the balcony. You follow him, crawling on all fours while the devil yanks you along with his leash. He makes you faceplant a few times and your body devours the prelude of the pain to come. 

“Kneel. Stay. I will swap your place with Hope’s if you move even a muscle.” 

You kneel on instinct. His voice holds an inflection that gores you inch by inch as if he were kneading his horns into your chest

Indeed, you can’t breathe. Dread pits in your stomach reaching upwards to your heart before splitting into tiny little tendrils piercing through every inch of you and jutting out your fingertips. It makes you shake which Raphael notices, coupled with the wince that’s inadvertently overtaken your expression. 

“Still yourself. This is a consequence, one only natural for your transgression.”

You ball your fists, close your eyes, and breathe the best you can. Nothing stops the shaking; fear settles in you so wholly it mixes with everything else you’ve ever felt. All the memories with Raphael, your loving master, grow dense and sink you through the floor to Dis then Minarous then ever deeper through the hells. Fire, fumes, thousands of swords and millions of fangs lash at you the whole way down.  

It hurts. It hurts so terribly the feeling wrenches you into living. 

“You squirm, little mouse” Raphael’s voice has never sounded so vivid. “Squirming for the claw to descend.” 

Crack

Pain bursts from your back and punches through to your chest. You look up to see Raphael wielding a five stranded whip. His favorite; a sturdy, brown leather with metal barbs the shape of a cat’s claw finishing each strand. He cards the whip through his fingers as he stares at you, sneering. 

Crack

You see him bring the whip down and again, pain bursts from your back seeping to the visceral below in a hot, blinding embrace. Hurt whites your vision, clearing the fog that’s lingered on your mind for far too long. You scream, for now you have a reason to. 

Crack 

Just before the pain fades from his last strike Raphael brings the whip down again. Renewed, the delicious ache spreads deeper, stabbing at your chest making your heart skip and lungs stall. Your back feels warm, puffy— a feeling that envelops you in an embrace. 

Crack

You feel the barbs, you feel your muscles bruising, and you feel Raphael’s malice behind each strike, threatening to strip you to the bone. “Haah~” The breath you let out morphs into a moan as you lap up the flashes of sensation. 

“I have walked the planes longer than your line has lived, yet I know not of a single entity that has any hope of curing you” Crack. He strikes you again. Pain distracts you from whatever he says next. 

“A-ah-“ The sound spills from your lips that are begging for more more more. Liquid runs down your sides—blood, you realize—dripping like melted wax, seeping downwards from the flame from your conflagrating soul, whirling the ashes of what could’ve been into heavy, red-orange smog. Crack. Raphael strikes you again for ignoring him. 

“Look at me. I choose to keep you, however misaligned you may be.” His voice wedges under the crush of your torment, weaving into the pain. “Who else would want to have you, mouse? Who would care for a creature about to come from a flogging?” 

He does. He does. “You do” he does. 

Raphael feeds your sick little wishes. A helping of anguish, shame, sadness, pain to cause wounds which he’d deliver a morsel of sweetness into, right through your skin to blood and flesh.

Crack

The whip interrupts your reminiscing, forcing you back into the present and you look to Raphael, just as he asked. His eyes, that dark, infernal gloss fill with satiety. When else has he looked satisfied? 

With you, of course. You placate his ruthless ambition, if only for a moment. How you cry as the devil traces his claws across your bleeding back, how your body trembles, stuck between lurching from or towards the pain brings him a fullness matched by little else. Raphael then leans down, collects you by the underarms to stand you up, and presses his lips to yours. 

Immediately you’re embraced by the gentle heat of a fireplace as blood dries a carapace over your back. Of course it hurts; standing stretches the welts painting your skin but the pain dissolves his tenderness, allowing you to take both in a combined parcel. You feel your heart flutter in delight at a first love.

Raphael shifts his hands to under your breasts, making a careful effort to not aggravate your wounds as he moves you towards the balcony’s edge. You instinctively push your hands back to grab the handrail while he practically latches onto your mouth, feeding you the burn of wyvern whisky. 

While intertwined, Raphael ghosts his hands to your back, meeting his claws over your spine and pulls.

Claws rip through the jagged mess of your skin, cutting four parallel lines from the curve of your scapula to the side of your ribcage. You scream, still latched onto his mouth and Raphael, ever hungry, consumes the sound from its very source. 

Some part of you, body or mind braced itself, but did not communicate it to the other. All of this is hardly surprising; devilish endeavors involve souls. He’s tenderizing yours, fattening it up with hope and anguish before the day comes where he’ll take you entirely. 

Scraps will do for now. He pulls away and goes to your neck while playing with the damage on your back. A claw here, a swipe at a reddening welt there, and you’re bleeding as fiercely as when the night began.

“Mmmm.” You take all of it: pain and pain and pain and more pain tinged with sweetness. Between the haze of Avernus and Raphael’s broad frame, a delightful shiver runs down your spine. From your skin, your loins and the ache in your soul, pain stings through them, making you one.

Never before have you felt so complete. 

[mymreaderlibrary]

Bg3 prompt idea (gender neutral): Eternal Slayer

Despite having denied their father, Bhaal, Durge has once again been struggling with the urge. They’ve done their best to keep it down, shying away from telling their party until everything comes to an awful head. They find themself trapped in a halfway transformation between their natural form and that of the slayer, brutally savage but also semi conscious. Their fight against the urge has never been stronger, but how will their allies handle their plight? And will this spell the permanent end to their redemption?

[stars-and-clouds]

HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO!!! -screams-

[mymoonsight]

Reposting a comment I made on a post and adding to it

x Reader fics need to handle writing “reader” better sometimes

As a 6ft afab person who’s built like a man and has never been super feminine and has a more unique haircut that’s shorter I hate to read about “readers” petite, small, pale body and her “long flowy straight hair”, etc.

Reader is meant to be ambiguous!! And if it’s important to the plot please mention it at the beginning!!! If it’s not important to the plot why is it being included???

Some people who are reading may be tall, fat, skinny, short, or even somewhere in between. The readers could have a hijab, 4c hair, locks, braids, long hair, short hair, wavy, no hair and even more.

Stop making all readers so sweet and innocent, I want a reader who’s petty and sassy sometimes. I’ve noticed also that so many readers are either too baby to do anything or over powered.

Personally I also hate reading about obviously toxic men and relationships that the reader goes back to because they are “so in love”, like no please let me deck that sucker and leave them in the dust and be happier.

Also, if you label your post with the tag “___ x reader” or titled with “___ x reader” and then make descriptions and then ADD A NAME!!! It’s not an x reader fic and I heavily want to block you.

Edit:

Hey hello! I just wanted to add that I heavily respect and love fic writers! So many have a talent that I will never reach or have and I appreciate your content being put out at all! I made this post as a 5 am ramble and was half delirious lol

People can write as they please and I’ll ignore it if I’m not interested or I’ll make slight internal edits to fit me if I am

[slaughter-kin]

he’s my husband

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

reasons why i relate to tav, the main character from baldurs gate 3:

shouldn’t have wished to live in more interesting times.

[misquoted-chronicles]

Tav: I want to hear those three little words.

Astarion: I love you.

Tav: That's sweet. Try again.

Astarion: *pouts and crosses arms* Fine. I will behave.

Narrator: Astarion did not behave. Later that day, he went on a goblin killing spree and got in a fight with an old lady.

[vrystalius]

Yearning and crushing.

What do they act like when they are utterly in love and yearning for you?

Pairing: Astarion, Gale, Zevlor, Rolan, x gn!Tav!reader

Summary: During the early stages of your misadventure, he cannot help himself but never stop yearning for you.

Genre: Fluff, lime (does anyone use lime and lemons anymore?)

Words: 2.3k

Note: I’m hosting a small event over at my blog. Check it out if you’re interested <3 I’m choosing four participating users at random to receive a personalised letter from their fav char<33 All of this is happening in act 1 btw.

Astarion Ancunín // The Pale Elf

Yearning scale: 8/10

He denied himself the pleasure of thinking about you in a romantic way other than to use you to get protection, power and a willing source of absolutely delicious blood. Really falling for you would be very stupid and have no benefit, really. Astarion never viewed himself as someone who deserved love, especially yours.

But during every battle Astarion’s concentration began to waver more and more. His eyes scan the area in panic until he finally spots you somewhere, being very occupied by trying to finish off the gnoll growling at you. He knows you’re capable defending yourself and finishing off some enemies and it is a delight to watch you fight, but that caused him to miss more and more, with both daggers and his crossbow.

You notice how his whole face lights up whenever you saunter over to him to do some small talk after a long day. His eyes look much softer and his smile becomes less guarded, less planned. It was adorable but you never mentioned it to him, or else you might never see that off-guard smile again.

At first you were adorned by Astarion and showered in flirts and compliments to love-bomb you and bind you to him, something he has done wo many countless times, but slowly he feels himself regretting playing up his flirtatious persona. He thinks you might not like him anymore when he stops with the over-the-top flirts, the nightly trysts and most importantly, the sex.

But deep down he was hoping and praying you’ll still like him for him.

Slowly, Astarion will insist on staying close with you no matter what. The group splits up to explore a cave efficiently? He is definitely sticking by your side. You’re heading to the Emerald Grove to stock on some food for tonight? Don’t mind him tagging along, he just needs a couple of healing potions. You’re injured and need healing? Out of the way Shadowheart, he got this with some alcohol and bandages.

“I’m sure you wont mind taking me with you to that grove again, I wanted to talk to that Tiefling by the forge. I’m thinking about asking very nicely to have a little taste of his blood… But I won’t if you get jealous easily, my darling.”

Astarion quietly yearns for you. He knows how to (mostly) control himself and his tongue around you to not accidentally start coughing up the butterflies terrorising his stomach by praising, flirting, teasing you, doing everything to try and make you like him by any means, even if he has to play a persona.

He has to let out this pent up love for you somewhere, so in the evenings he’ll retreat and quietly stich up his clothes that were torn during the day, check his daggers for sharpness but then also open up the hidden notebook he stashed away under his pillow and sketch a little. Mostly you, really, in all kinds of poses and situations.

He never sexualised you in any way, simply sketching you in almost domestic situations from his view; the way your face lights up in delight when Scratch brings you another drool-drenched sandal, your face scrunched together in disgust after tasting one of Auntie Ethel’s mold pies on accident or you just relaxing after a hard day. Astarion quietly admired you from his tent as his pen works against the paper. He’s not really talented in it but it’s a nice way to unwind. He is praying though that the dog never gets the bright idea to steal his notebook and drop it into your lap or he will beg Shadowheart to cast moonbeam and incinerate him.

Gale Dekarios // The Wizard of Waterdeep

Yearning scale: The ultimate yearner ™/10

Let’s be honest, Gale is not very subtle with his yearning although the wizard thinks he is being very smooth with it.

Before having the moment with you in the weave where your minds interlinked, where you imagined kissing him, first carefully, then passionately and with vigour so shamelessly while he stands there rooted in place, trying not to explode (literally), Gale has been dreamily watching you.

He wasn’t even sure why he fell in love with you or how exactly it happened, Gale had a dream about you with him in his wizard tower in Waterdeep, not exactly using his desk the way it is intended to be used. He woke up with the orb flickering in his chest and a all too familiar warmth spreading through his lower abdomen.

With every artefact you sacrifice to him and with every minute you listen to his boasting and rambling, Gale stopped fighting the feelings that were growing inside him every day and accepted that yes, he did just fall in love with the stranger that pulled him through a portal, fed him boots without hesitating and never seriously judged him for his poor decisions. He hasn’t met anyone besides Tara that was very judging.

He can’t act on his feelings yet, though. Gale can’t even let his mind slip for a moment and let the sweet, sweet thought of your lips pressed against his, your tongues dancing with each other, his hands feeling up your waist to pull you closer and closer as if trying to absorb you. He gets ripped out of these fantasies by a sharp pain in his chest and the all too familiar feeling of the orb becoming restless.

It physically hurts him to yearn for you. The orb is like a handcrafted punishment by his goddess Mystra, which it is, but not in the way she probably intended.

His way to painlessly express his admiration for you is mostly by talking; he rants and over-explains the littlest things that can sometimes accidentally come off as condescending, but you were always interested for whatever reason, even if he just listed all the different types of elementals and all the kinds he has met himself before.

But Gale also very openly expresses how highly he thinks of you. You always heard cheers like “A perfect hit!” or “You are doing absolutely amazing!” from the half dead and bloodied wizard that is surrounded by goblins but still thought about praising your skills. Sometimes his mouth worker faster than his brain and he’d accidentally compliment your very natural musk or point out how beautifully shiny your unwashed hair has gotten. It was probably meant to be a compliment.

Oh, it was starting to become a torture. Gale wakes up in the middle of the night after a blissful dream of strolling through the markets of Waterdeep together, playfully arguing who gets to cool what tonight, worrying about nothing other than to remember get Tara’s favourite treat. Rolling over in his bed he could feel his chest tighten, his hand instinctively gripping his nightshirt, trying to soothe the orb by touching it. He tried to take a deep breath, his fingers spreading out over his chest slowly.

His eyes fluttered shut and his lip quivered slightly as his other arm began to move to wrap around his own body. The wizard rolled over onto his side to stare at the tent wall, his own arms hugging himself, trying to make a fraction of his fantasies about you come true. But Gale would never allow to even properly think about asking to spend the night with him; it would be selfish to do so.

Zevlor // Leader of the Tieflings // Exiled Hellrider

Yearning scale: 6/10

It was probably wrong to feel the way he was feeling. You defended the grove and the refugees against goblins without questions and weren’t even disappointed about not getting a reward. You walked around and talked to the Tieflings, setting some dispute between three siblings, saved Arabella from the mad druid and offered to kill the goblin leaders for them.

Zevlor tried to push away the racing heart that seemed to flare up every time you showed more and more simple kindness for his people and others. He justified it to himself that the fluttery feeling in his chest and the warmth spreading embarrassingly fast on his face is just his gratitude manifesting in other ways, but during the small celebrating party you allowed to be held at your camp and after too many cups of vinegar for wine, it all dawned on him.

“Go, enjoy yourself. You’ve earned it. Don’t spend all your time on me, I’m sure many here would want to have a word with you instead.”

He admires your courage and selflessness, but his feelings reach far beyond that. To be able to share a cup with you was incredibly flattering but also a little selfish, he thought. You are quite popular in camp and Zevlor can’t deny the looks the other companions give you, so he tries to shoo you away and enjoy yourself. Having your attention all to himself, somewhere in private and in a situation that isn’t stressed by looming fights and threats would be an absolute dream.

A dream he didn’t allow himself to realise.

Besides, he’s an older, Hellrider-exiled Tiefling and an Oathbreaker Paladin with a group of refugee kin to look after and lead to Baldur’s Gate. Zevlor is barely able to love himself, how in the world are you supposed to be able to love him? Surely you deserve to be with someone more deserving of your love and devotion.

Even despite barely interacting with you, it was difficult for him to part from you and your troupe but there was a city for him to safely escort the refugees to. Duty calls and so does the road.

For now, Zevlor will just silently dream about you at night and think about your whereabouts during the day. He didn’t allow himself to get distracted too easily but during every small moment of respite his eyes would briefly close and his mind slowly travelled to you. He always wondered where you are right now, what you are doing. How far along have you come in your journey? Last he heard Halsin joined you on your quest for a cure against a tadpole.

He secretly wonders if you are still wearing the Hellrider Gloves he had given you as a thanks after redeeming Kagha and buying them more time to pack in the druid grove. It’s a childish thought but Zevlor really hoped that they serve you as well as they once served him and keep you safe. And maybe you think of him when you look at them.

For now, Zevlor has to focus on getting his caravan to Baldur’s Gate safely. The apparently cursed and so called “Shadow Lands” are the only way. Hopefully he can get them through in one piece.

Rolan // Wizard’s apprentice

Yearning scale: 8/10

Oh he has got a big, fat crush. Or at least that is what Cal and Lia have been teasing him about for the past days, hours and minutes. Ever since you stepped into the dispute the three had about whether they should leave the grove or not, Rolan has been more squishy and distracted.

He keeps seeing you around the grove, talking the Tieflings there and listening to what they have to say, trade with that druid merchant before heading over to Dammon to buy some new armour for you or your companions after the plates broke down. Rolan’s eyes would be scanning your whole body from the position he was standing, trying to see through your clothes and armour to check for injuries.

He knew you are an adventurer of some sort, talking to Ethel about something in your head and stocking up on a lot of healing potions. If not for you fighting through goblins Rolan would’ve used Thunderwave to send those scum to the afterlife. So he greatly appreciates your efforts and all it must take to finish them off.

His eyes would sparkle every time you even briefly passed him. You didn’t even had to look at him and he would feel his tail wagging embarrassingly fast behind himself as he tried to avoid his sibling’s knowing glances and how they 100% know what was going on.

Rolan doesn’t really understand himself and why his brilliant mind decided to choose you to pine on. You, someone he will leave behind and probably never see again. You, who only interacted with him a few fleeting times. You, with that heroic attitude and need to fix everything, you with that stupid smile you gave that woman Ethel, you simply existing. He felt childish for feeling like this.

He knew you’d make short work of the goblins and their leaders but his heart still managed to flutter in admiration after finding out what you managed to do. The wizard prepared his stupid party-trick spell until you got back to the grove, trying to cast the beautiful spell he had been casting since childhood over and over until it was perfect. Performing it in front of you asked for a bottle of wine or three to get some courage.

After bowing and getting some applause from you, Rolan’s eyes still stuck to you well after you gave your compliments and departed. He couldn’t help himself but feel jealous of that vampire in the corner, the purple wizard in the other and literally everyone else that breathed near you. Everyone wanted to have a piece of you— of course. You’re the hero of the party.

Rolan wanted to hog your time and attention to himself, though. He wants to sit down with you and for once just listen to you talk instead of him doing some boasting. It doesn’t matter what you were talking about, he wants to listen and watch your lips move, maybe fantasise about leaning in closer and sharing a kiss.

But alas, there’s an apprenticeship for him to attend in Baldur’s Gate. The road was calling and he had to move on with his travels. It doesn’t mean you left his mind though, every moment he did not spend checking up on Lia or Cal, getting into an argument with one of the kids or whatever, he spend daydreaming about you.

Maybe you’ll see each other again under better circumstances. He really hopes so.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I wanted to write a request I swear but my hands moved on their own and wrote something that has been on my brain for like a week or so :,) Forgive me lmao. I’ll be answering asks and requests soon tho!

Check out my personalised letters event <33

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33 You are loved.

[witchysfics]

Hey! I loved your fic a lot, thank u for adding some fluff to his romance <3

You mentioned the requests are possible, what about Gale and Tav spending one of their nights in town? Maybe cafe, tavern or restaurant? Or just a slow walking promenade through the alleys? Or slow dancing somewhere near musicians? Whatever inspires you the most :D

Thanks!

author's note : Thank you so much for requesting!! I will be finishing up other requests and finishing my rules soon. Feel free to keep requesting for now! I love all your ideas!! this is not proofread and may have many mistakes. It was soooo late when I was writing this. enjoy <3

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The party had stopped at a quaint little town for the evening. You had practically begged to rest here. Why be outside in the cold dark night when you all could cozy up a fire and warm up to a little a drink. It would be great!

And you were right. The tiny town was filled with happy families, couples strolling along and a quaint tavern, perfect for your traveling party.

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon and night filled the air the town grew even more bustling.

Now the patrons of the tavern sat outside nursing their drinks and watching the locals dance to the music.

The party had settled on some outdoor seating as well, Karalach and Wyll loading up on ale, laughing boisterously. Astarion hung to the shadows, probably looking for a snack out of one of the clueless town's persons. And you sat with Shadowheart chatting like a couple of gossiping old ladies while Gale sat with you two, listening.

An upbeat song began, drawing your attention to the dancers.

"The aroma of the night is relaxing. It's a nice change of pace isn't it?" Gale asks, turning to you and Shadowheart.

You nod, smiling. You could definitely agree, after the countless battles and hours of exploring the party really needed this off time.

A sudden bump of your table had startled the three of you.

"Op! s-sorry!" A giddy, and possibly drunk, Karlach called as she dragged a nervous Wyll to the dance floor. "I told you Wyll, Blade of Frontiers. You will be bested by me! Karlach! ... uhh The Dancing Demon!"

You and Gale chuckled at their antics while Shadowheart shakes her head, amused.

"How long do you think before Wyll finds competing with Karlach is too hot to handle?" Gale asks jokingly.

You shake your head at that, "Haha, I thought you were a Wizard, not a comedic bard." You quip.

"I can be anything you'd like my dear. Maybe even a proficient dancer?" He look expectantly at you. His delivery is confident but the message in his eyes holds of other, more nervous intension.

You blush slightly at the implication of the statement. Opening your mouth, trying to formulate something to say but nothing comes out.

"I- uh."

"I can't remember the last time I danced." Shadowheart sighs, gazing at the dancers.

You turn to her and fan your heating face. Thankful that she unknowing shifted attention to herself you ask, "Really? Shar doesn't like dancing?" You joke, smiling a little at her.

"I wouldn't say that, its just... I can't remember the last time I danced, because of the...you know" She gestures to her head, "memory spell"

You make a silent 'oh' in realization.

"I'm not too sad about it though, I know I'll get my memories back. And in the mean time," She suddenly stands from her seat, standing in front of you. "I get to make new memories now. Starting with you!" She makes a quick motion for you hands and pulls you up to her.

You let out a surprised yelp as she laughs and she drags you over to dance. You look over your shoulder to Gale, who looks just as surprised but recovers and mouths for you to 'go on it's fine' with a smile. You give a apologetic smile in return.

Shadowheart, still holding your hands, spins the two of you. Dancing in a way that is reminiscent of young school girls. Twirling, spinning, jumping and laughing all the while.

You spot Karlach an Wyll who both shoot you friendly smiles. Wyll's a little more crooked and weary while Karlach gives you two red thumbs up.

Eventually you have traded dance partners as more people join the group. You switch from Shadowheart, to Karlach to Wyll. Even Halsin joins in during a slower song. You danced with strangers too, some old some young. Some flirted with you and some you made a friendly banter. You had noticed Gal tried to slip in a few times only for you or him to snatched up by a different partner. Both of you expressing contrite smiles to one another.

By the time you got back to your table, and Gale the whole town might as well have turned in for the night. The music was slower and the dance floor was lighted by dancing fireflies and the occasional ground lantern.

"Well, it's been a while." He says looking over to you. "You seem very popular."

You sigh falling into the chair, exhasuted. "I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, slumping to your knees and placing one of your hands on his own that sat on his high. "I had meant to answer you question ages ago, but well..." You chuckle, "I just I was preoccupied."

"Oh no my dear, I completely understand. Of course everyone would want to dance with a beautiful individual like yourself."

His voice is smooth, like a stream gliding over flat stones. His face is soft though his tone is flirty.

You gulp and roll your bottom lip between your teeth. You've danced with strangers all night, how could he make just taking to him overwhelming?

"Is something the matter? You seem, stunned." He asks a smug smile spreading across his lips

"Oh! No no. Not at all." You clear your throat. "Sorry I just...." You trail off, unsure of what to say.

"You know," he begins, taking your hand into his. "You never did answer my question. Would you like me to be your dancer?"

You nod breathlessly and he smiles down at you. His eyes filled with an indescribable softness.

He pulls you gentally to the dance floor and a song kicks up as you wrap your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your waist. His chest presses to yours and the warmth from the contact warms the cool air around you. His shoulder is soft as you place your head upon it. Drinking in the smell of his, now clean, robes. They have a hint of petrichor and vanilla, as well as a slight lingering smell of ale. But that is to be expected near a tavern.

The playing song is cheerful, but romantic as it belows out it's slow rhythmed melody.

Gale's eyes haven't left you once since you'd begun dancing. Taking in the view of your eyes as they sparked from the light of firefies.

It's only when he begins speaking are you snapped out of your trance.

"You know, I've been trying to get to dance with you all night. I was almost convinced I wasn't going to just because I couldn't seem to even catch a small moment with you." He chuckles. "But I'm glad I waited. Dancing with you then would have been a privilege but I would have had lost you as soon as I got you. But this, dancing with you, watching your darling face lit up by the stars? This, this is a dream."

Footnote : Thank you so much for requesting! I hope this is sufficient to what you had in mind, this was really fun to write. Had me kicking my own feet. Sorry it took me so long to get to, midterms have been biting my ass. Love ya! - Witchy

[succubusstarlight]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again || Gale Dekarios Angst

A/N: Hi lovies! Sorry I’ve been absent; I recently moved and started a new job that actually gives me hours so my weeks are going to be pretty busy. BUT! I am working on BTGoTM in any spare time I have. I have finished part 6 and am working on part 7 and hopefully both will be up by the end of the month. In the meantime, here is a small angsty story to keep my mind a little fresh and to give myself a break from The Moon. Inspired by the title, a song from Phantom of The Opera, I give you Gale angst. And I know this song is sung by Christine to her father but every time I hear it I imagine this- Love you all <3!

Warning: Angst, canon BG3 violence, mid writing, inserted lyrics. Mystra when I catch you- when I catch you Mystra- Mystra when I catch you-

Masterlist

Word Count: 2401

---

                Weeks of fighting and battling a cult was finally coming to an end. The stem of the Netherbrain was mere feet away from you, twitching with gross squelches. The sky above Baldur’s Gate was un-seeable, the smoke from the burning buildings covering the skyline. Your party and yourself were covered in blood and soot from flames that burned around you. Each of you were breathing heavily as you took a moment to collect yourself.

                Behind you, your lover spoke up. “Can you feel it? We’re almost there.” Gale took a stance next to you, a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite decode. “The brain… it’s high above the city now- far away from any innocents.” A pit formed in your stomach as his gaze turned to meet yours. “I can end this now- stop the Absolute and spare the city. The stage is set for my final act. Mystra’s bidding. And the redemption that lies beyond.”

                You quickly shook your head, grabbing his hand in yours. “What? No, Gale we’ve discussed this. I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for her. City be damned, I won’t lose you. We said we’d all do this together.” You smiled at him taking a small step towards the brain’s stem. “We started this journey together and now we’ll finish it together. Just as we promised.”

                He pulled you back towards him, a soft smile taking over his expression. “I am right where I need to be,” he moved in front of you, his back now facing the stem and yours to your party, “I have no right to ask more of you.” Your brows creased and it was then that a noise reached your ears.

                A soft humming was heard through the chaos of the burning Baldur’s Gate, and when you turned your head, what you saw was a white doorway. You had looked around, realizing the rest of your friends were gone and, in a panic, you turned back to your lover. “What’s going on.”

                “It’s time I spirited you to safety, for this is a fate I must face alone. There is an endless wonder out there. Infinite possibilities. Perhaps fate will bring us back together, before the universe dims.” Tears began to fall down your cheeks and you gripped his arms, not wanting to let go.

                You began to beg, vision blurring with tears as he moved his hands to cup your face. But as quickly as you began to plead, he silenced you. His soft lips meeting yours in sting of sadness, tears of his own beginning to fall along with yours.

                And it was with one final ‘I love you’ that you felt your body begin to fall backwards. Your tried to reach out, seeing the form of your lover become engulfed with white as the world around you change from the city to forest. He had transported all of you far away enough that the blast of the orb would do you no damage, but you could still see the city from the ledge you now collapsed onto. As well as the brain’s silhouette.

                “Soldier! There you are!” Karlach’s voice rang from behind you and echoed in your ears. All the noise around you echoed as you stared at the far-off city in disbelief and betrayal. She had continued to try and speak with you, her warm hands caressing your back before you roughly shoved at her.

                You let out panic cries as you ripped your satchels and pouches off, dumping out all of their contents in search of something-anything- that could get you back to the city. Incoherent pleases and begging fell from your lips.  And when a scroll of a flying spell hit the ground, your shaky hands quickly grabbed it, tearing the paper and letting the magic flow through your body.

Your friends let out panic cries as you launched yourself off the edge, the wind whipping your hair in your eye and the strands stuck to your wet face. Despite the magic, your armor weighed you down and you knew. You knew somewhere that you weren’t going to make it and the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger.

                And finally, in a bright and almost beautiful way, a purple light shown from the top of the brain. Its brightness growing in size before disappearing and re-erupting with a loud boom. Your cries were drowned out by the noise and your body shook in the air as the edge of the blast just barely hit your form.  You could only stare in a stunned silence, watching in shock as the brain and all the nautiloids around it fell to the ground and sea below. Crashing into the city and demolishing even more of its beautiful structures.

                Your body slowly lowed to the ground, and you fell to your knees, not even affected by how the rocks and jagged ground of the forest clanked into your armor. You were never going to make it. Hells, you were only a little way away from the cliff your party stood on, watching in horror and sadness as the brain was taken out by their beloved friend.

And you wails soon echoed to their ears as you fell onto your hands, your body violently shaking with sobs as you pleaded with for any God to bring him back.

---

                “Up you go then, Gale. Best make this count… the whole world is watching.” Gale’s hand dug into the flesh of the brain’s stem as he hauled himself up to the crown.

                “Come to die? Come to kneels? Surrender and live-THRALL!” The voice of the Netherbrain echoed in his mind.

                “Thrall? No, I think you’re mistaken. My name is Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His form stood proudly in front of the Crown, though his eyes held a different expression. “Though our time together will be exceptionally brief. Farewell, and happy landings.”

                His eyes began to glow along with his hands as a dagger materialized from the Weave. He briefly sighed and gripped its handle, and with one final thought of his beloved, he plunged its blade into his chest. The sharp tip collided with the orb as he let out a cry of pain, driving it deeper with a disgusting squelch.

His final thought as his arms were violently stretched out? You. The image of your teary eyes staring into his with betrayal was the last thing he saw as his world erupted into bright lights of purple.

---

                Months had passed since the defeat of the brain. The beautiful green of trees and forests had fallen off as a cold blew through the city of Baldurs Gate with winter. The soft plush of the snow crunched beneath the feet of a hero as they somberly made their way through the darkening streets. The clouds covered the sky as even more snow fell from them, sticking to the hooded cloak that dawned the hero’s back.

                The city had quieted down as the sun set behind the dark clouds, leaving the streets in a quiet peace. Only a few people scattered the walkways, those closing shops or leaving the various taverns that finally decided to kick them out. Besides that, all the city was peaceful. The glow of the various streetlamps lighting the perfect path through the streets

                Soft hums sounded from the hero’s lips as they passed through the main city square. They stopped and turned to look at a statue that stood proudly in the center of said square. Its completion was recent, being built soon after the battle for the City was won.

The hero that was depicted was different from the one that stared at it. Even made of stone, the hair of the man looked soft and the spell in his hand was one to burn forever. A beautiful purple illuminating the plaque that was displayed on the base.

Gale Dekarios

Who gave his life for the citizens of Fearun

May his soul rest in peace

Hero of Baldur’s Gate

                Tears fell down cold red cheeks as the hero still standing turned away, continuing their walk to their true destination. It hadn’t taken them long to reach it as they soon came face to face with the tall gate the opened to the cemetery. They creaked open, stiff and frozen from the cold and snow that continued to powder the world.

You were once my one companion

You were all that mattered

You were once a friend and lover

Then my world was shattered

                The hero let out a shaky breath as they crossed under the gate, wiping the never-ending tears from their frozen cheeks. The only sound that was heard was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps as they made their way past a plethora of stones, each holding meaning to different people. But nothing to them.

Wishing you were somehow here again

Knowing that I never would

Dreaming of you won’t help me to do

All that you dreamed I could

As they went deeper into the site, the headstones grew bigger, a few smaller monuments and sculptures for those who could afford it. All dark stone coated in a plush white. The hums continued as their body started to shiver, the cold finally seeping through their cloak and boots.

Passing bells and sculpted angels

Cold and monumental

Seem, for you, the wrong companion

You were warm and gentle

Another gate stood in front of them, a soft blue shining from the bars in a tell-tale sign of a magic lock. With shaky hands, they held their palm to the keyhole, a soft glow emitting from it before a click rang out and the doors creaked opened. Behind it, a building with another set of glowing doors, angelic statues standing proud on each side to guard what it held inside.

Too many years

Fighting back tears

Why can’t the past

Just die?

As the hero unlocked the tomb doors and made their way inside, they finally broke. Falling to their knees, whining as their bones met the cold hard floor. Their sobs echoed through the tomb, echoing through their own ears as they held their hands to their chest. Hiccups racked their body, and they couldn’t tell which was making them shake more, the cold or sadness that ripped through their soul. Perhaps neither was good for them.

They tried their best to speak through their cries. “I-I wish you were here again. I wish I could at least say goodbye. You were supposed to be here with me! We were supposed to save the city together. She didn’t deserve your sacrifice. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. What happened to the future we talked about?”

“I don’t want to feel this angry with you! You gave your life to save mine. But I never got to say goodbye! I-I’m trying to forgive you, my love. Teach me to live!” Their words were cut off by hiccups before they took a second to catch their breath, their cries quieting down to soft whimpers. “At least give me the strength to try, Gale. Give me the strength to try.”

They sat silently, staring at the concrete bed that lay in the center of the monument. They couldn’t even properly mourn their lover, as their coffin was empty. His body had disappeared when his spell went off. The only thing the hero could cry to was an empty slab of stone.

Time passed quietly; the silence only broken by the occasional hiccup from the frozen hero. And if it weren’t for the crunch of footsteps, they wouldn’t have noticed the equally cold hand that was placed onto their shoulder. The scent that hit their nose immediately told them who had joined.

“You’ll get sick if you stay like this for too long, Tav.” Astarions voice was soft as weight was removed from their back before being replaced by something lighter. A new cloak that wasn’t as cold or wet, soft furs doing a better job to keep the snow away than the fabric one now held by the pale elf. “I knew I’d find you here. No doubt this week has been rough for you.”

Tav slowly rose from their kneeling position, wiping their eyes and nose as they turned to finally face the vampire. He held a look of sympathy in his eyes, their crimson shade holding a sadness to them, though not as deep as the hero before him.

“It’ll be a year next week. I wanted to see him before I leave for Waterdeep soon. There’s not a lot left for me in Baldur’s Gate and according to Tara, his tower has accumulated quite a bit of dust in his absence.” Their eyes continuously drifted from Astarion to the stone coffin, small tears still falling from their eyes.

“I suppose that means you’ll be leaving me all alone then? I guess I’ll just have to put up with Wyll’s rant about Grand Duke duties and only occasionally seeing our dear Shadowheart.” His tone wasn’t one of seriousness. “But… I suppose if it gives you comfort and something to busy yourself, I can compromise with the occasional visit. So long as you promise to write.”

The hero smiled at him, taking his cold hand in their equally frozen one. “Thank you Astarion. And I promise I’ll write.”

The elf let out a sigh, taking a small step back. “Come along dear, I’ll walk you home. I wouldn’t want you freezing to death in a gloomy graveyard.” As he led them to the door, his arm was held back.

Tav took one last look in the tomb, releasing Astarion’s hand to reach into the pocket of their trousers. From it, they retrieved a letter. The note Gale had written for them the night he made his decision. The hero placed the folded paper on top of the concrete before raising the hands, muttering a spell with a soft pink light.

From the light, a beautiful purple flower that seemed to glow in the darkness was placed on top of the letter, forever keeping their lovers’ spirit company as they turned to finally leave. Taking Astarion’s hand once again, they locked the arcane gates behind them and walked into the now dark city as the snow continued to softly fall.

Help me say goodbye

[sevikasstar]

So I know that people tend to gravitate towards the "he's an asshole to other women but is nice to me" trope but personally I would rather the male lead be respectful to women.

Gale in particular seems to be a great example of this. When talking to female companions, he's very kind to them.

Despite his jest with the "You can read?" line to Karlach when she asked for book recs, he tells her he'd happily find her the perfect book suited to her tastes from his tower in Waterdeep.

With Lae'zel, he's curious about her culture and often asks about it.

Him and Shadowheart seem to have an understanding, as both of them are people of faith who were manipulated by their respective goddesses.

Yet despite that, he is no less devoted to you as a lover. His relationships with the other female companions are simply a mark of his good nature, and I really appreciate this far more than if he was disrespectful to them and only kind to me.

[awearywritersworld]

okay, what if the situation at moonrise towers was reversed?

the trader is a vampire and they offer you the potion to permanently increase your strength, but only if you let them feed from you.

astarion would try soooo hard not to let his emotions betray him. you haven't defined your relationship. the decision is yours to make. he's just using you, anyway...

but gods, does the thought of someone else's teeth in your neck make him sick to his stomach. no one else should be able to taste you, to hear the way your breath catches at the first draw of blood, to feel your hand grip their bicep if it gets to be too much.

you decline the offer, much to the pale elf's relief, and he finds himself in your tent that night. he joins you even before the other party members have gone to sleep for the evening.

his desperation quickly becomes apparent. he litters your neck with bites before moving to your chest, then your abdomen. he hardly even feeds, too busy marking what's his.

making his way back up your body, he laps at the blood he's spilled while the warmth of his breath fans across your delicate skin.

once he finds your lips, he leaves a lingering kiss there before pulling back. his expression is almost sheepish, though the sentiment is gone the very next moment.

he settles beside you wordlessly, opens a book, and pretends not to see the look on your face— knowing and amused.

bg3 masterlist

[cheekylittlepupp]

Whoever was responsible for the kiss scene at Larian...

the way his hand slowly moves up....

[connorsui]

♡ 《 He's the type 》 ♡

" He's the type of man to hold your waist instead of your hand "

" He's the type of man to give you a piggy back ride when he notices your heels hurting your feet "

"He's the type of man to put a picture of you as his phone wallpaper"

"He's the type of man who would take over all tasks in the house for months after you just got done giving birth to your child "

"He's the type of man to buy you something you said you wanted but didn't have enough money for"

"He's the type of man who would shed a tear at seeing you walk towards him with your pretty white dress on the day of the wedding "

The man: Rafael, Sam Winchester, Xavier, Sylus, Zayne, Nanami Kento, Peter Parker, Captain Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Konig, Simon Riley, Halsin, Leon Kennedy, Steve Roger's, Geto Suguru, Johnny "soap" Mactavish, Aki Hayakawa, Jaehaerys "Jace" Targaryen, Aizawa, Hawks, Hajime Umemiya, BG3 Rafael, bakugo,