#that's not even 'dark' gale

[galedekarios]

maybe i'm Too Old and fwiw i do understand adding your own touch as an artist or writer to a certain extent, but i honestly don't understand the appeal of changing entirely how a canon character looks and/or acts to the point of where i have to check the tags/description to make sure i'm in the right tag bc i never would've thought it's them otherwise

[cats-obsessions]

I’m sorry. It’s so fucking funny to me how secretive most of the party THINKS they’re being when they’re absolutely not. Astarion obviously looks like a vampire. Shadowheart WEARS the symbol of Shar. Another wizard or sorcerer might even have heard about Gale. 100% if Durge had even half of their memories, they’d be able to clock every single one of them.

[animentality]

Imagine you killed every single person in the entire world as a sacrifice to the god of murder, your father, thus destroying the world and everything beautiful in it, but you refuse to kill the one person that you loved, the only person who could ever love a monster like you, and it's still not enough.

You can't give gods anything less than everything you are.

And for that reason...it's really fucking stupid that's baldur's gate 3 is not about slaying the gods.

[wakinguponsaturday]

Dark Urge bringing Gale and Wyll to kill Ketheric and just going guys. GUYS. shut the fuck up about your suicide pact. I know that's your dad but what the fuck are we going to do for him now. Pretty sure that's my ex-boyfriend and my sister up there plotting world domination and you don't see me giving away our position

[wild-magic-oops]

But what if white draconic bloodline sorcerer!Gale tho

[gayestcowboy]

guy who gets scared by a rat and jumps into gale’s arms, crushing him

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

gale's dialogue to the player is so needlessly flirty

'quite ready for you.'

'your desire?'

'direct me.'

'no rest for the wicked, i see.'

'you have my attention.'

sir. that's enough.

[feniksido]

A bunch of sketches of my durge and his best friends being annoyed by him

[lucrezianoin]

Yenna is like

and this is my family

a devil-celebrity, a warrior from the hells, a vampire, a cultist, an alien woman, the murderous son of a god, a wizard, a guy who is a bear 50% of the time, a bickering non-married couple, a pair of angelic lesbians and a skeleton man

[maegalkarven]

I just thought of the most hilarious next protagonist of Baldur's Gate saga.

(Note what most of the outcomes used as background info here come from the characters' "good" endings. Proceed with caution.)

A child of Durge and Gortash, killed inside their parent's womb when Durge denied Bhaal, resurrected alongside them by Jergal.

A child any of The Dead Three can lay a claim on because they are:

A child of previous chosen of Bane

A child of Bhaalspawn, a bhaalspawn themselves, albeit striped of that when Bhaal took his essence from Durge, killing them instantly.

DIED before even being born, so clearly Myrkul's subject.

Resurrected by Jergal, so there's ties to that as well.

Can be compelled to follow any of The Dead Three paths, or try to play them and set them against each other, or follow Jergal, or forge their own path.

Essentially a child with no fate.

Can look either as Durge (and be any race Durge presented as) or as Gortash.

The last possibility bringing unique encounters and dialogues and character never knowing they can use being Lord Gortash's child to their advantage or ppl they meet were their father's enemies and they need to dash.

Having ties to different fractions depending on who Durge romanced or if Durge not romanced anyone.

Being raised in Underdark if their parent ended up with Minthara.

Same with unascended Astarion, + lots of acquainted spawns in the Underdark.

Being raised in Hell if their parent went to Avernus with Karlach.

Being raised either in Waterdeep if Gale is their stepfather or with Duke freaking Ravengard as a step- grandfather.

Having ties with Selunites if Shadowheart is a woman they call mother.

Being raised in the nature and having Druids call them their own if Durge and Halsin were involved.

Being raised amongst githianki revolution if Lae'zel was their parent's choice of heart. Having their mother leading a rebellion against a god.

Having lots of unique content regarding that.

Possible companions include:

Arabella

Mol

Yenna

That girl who was kidnapped and eaten by auntie Ethel.

Mayrina's child.

A child of lady Janneth and Oscar.

One or several of Jaheira's grandchildren.

[iamnoodnood]

my durges (vharris and neried) and their partners

boy they will not get along ☝

[kozh-lucium]

I wonder what Bhaal is thinking if he saw his ex-kid frolicking like this.

Is he still salty that resist Durge disobey him?

Maybe not, since he can just make another bhaalspawn.

[caustinen]

i saw this video and the brainrot overcame me and i wrote 2.4k words of secret agent!bucky and bond girl!gale except that actually he’s the son of a mob boss that works as a double agent

tags: smut / feelings / angst / injuries / tending of injuries

enjoy?

hold me like a knife (ao3)

It takes only three simple words, and the pain in Bucky’s wounds seem to vanish at once as he fighst a grin — his first smile for days.

”You look horrible.”

Gale speaks in his matter-of-fact and yet oddly tender tone as always, as if he was just observing facts that had no real implications for him; it’s the very same tone that caught Bucky’s interest in the first place before he ever even saw his face.

He loses the fight with the grin, though it’s quickly overcome with a grimace as he leans to the doorframe and accidentally touches on a fresh bruise. ”I missed you too, doll,” he manages to sound nonchalant, at least to his own ears, but the slight tightening of Gale’s expressions reveals he has been caught. A gentle but determined hand reaches for the collar of his jacket and pulls him into the hotel room, Bucky making sure to kick the door closed behind himself. The lock clicks just as soft fingers run down the less bruised side of his face before he’s guided down so the shorter man can press a careful kiss to his lips. His own hands land on his shoulders, running up and down his biceps and squeezing lightly. He’s like a child who has gotten his favorite plushie back after a vaction, he supposes, as he seeks the comfort of touch with the despair of a starving man.

The kiss starts light, careful, Gale clearly trying to determin how much Bucky is hurting — the lower lip is slightly swollen from where it split to a knife — but as Bucky presses himself closer and tries his luck with a tentative lick between his lips, Gale sighs before opening up to him. Bucky only realizes how tense he has been when his shoulders drop and he relaxes into Bucky’s embrace. The hitched breathes and sighs and wet sounds of their lips meeting fill the silence between them, and Bucky can feel life bleed back into him with each little silent ngh that Gale probably doesn’t even realize he’s making.

The slowness molded by the simple pleasure of the other’s body heat close starts to vanish into real passion, the touch of their mouths getting more demanding, but unfortunately a nib of Gale’s teeth on his tender lip makes him hiss in pain, immediately pulling Gale farther away. Bucky doesn’t let him go far, hands now secured around the small of his back, and Gale doesn’t fight him either. He’s blushed by their effort and his lips are slightly swollen now too as his eyes travel over Bucky’s face once more, no doubt noting each of his visble wounds and calculating how many he’s hiding underneath his suit. His eyes stop on the three hazardly done stitches on his left eyebrow, and Bucky knows he doesn’t need to tell him he’s put them there himself, just now on the plane.

He might tell him later, when they’re cooling down under a single blanket and Gale’s playing with his hair or fingers and he doesn’t have to look him in the face as he talks because he knows Gale will be latching on to each word, not missing a single unvoiced moment of pain and fear from his story that he’s not ready to admit even to himself.

Gale hums. He looks like he’s deep in thought, but Bucky can tell he’s still more alert than most people are when they really put their mind to it, just by the virtue of his upbringing. The thought physcally aches somewhere deep in his insides and Bucky realizes more than ever what a bad idea it was to come here like this, he’s clearly too in his feelings to be acting rationally, too raw from the gruelling assignment and worrying about Gale. His arms around the smaller man tighten without his permission but Gale doesn’t comment on it, still carefully mapping out his face with his gaze and fingertips.

”You should be at a hospital,” he finally says, whispers, really, the worry and relief he’s still at one piece battling each other over every syllable. Bucky swallows the lump from his throat and forces a grin. They don’t have long, they never do, and he’ll be damned if he made it all the way back just to crumble at his feet.

(Gale would let him, and pick him back up and put together no matter how many pieces he’d be in, and that’s why he won’t.)

”Nah,” Bucky says, satisfied with how truly carefree he does sound that time, ”I had to come see my baby first.” The endearement works wonders like always. Gale let’s out a silent breath and his eyes soften despite shaking his head slightly before reaching for another kiss. It’s softer, again, taking them back to the start, and that’s fine with Bucky, he’s too tired and tender for all these emotions right now. ”Well, you’re not gonna bleed all over my sheets,” Gale tells him as he pulls back again, ”c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bucky lets his mind fade into a pleasant hum in the background as Gale unburdens him from his suit layers, biting his lip unhappily as he uncovers the bruising and cuts all over his torso but not saying anything. Bucky’s merely an observer as he’s pushed into the shower, the water pleasant rythm on his tired body. He leans to the cold wall and closes his eyes, unsure how long he just stays there taking it in before the door opens and closes with silent clicks and a smaller body presses against him. He keeps his eyes closed when Gale washes his hair, humming in content, following the gentle guidance of sure hands he trusts with the essances of his soul. He opens his eyes when Gale’s hands make a long stop on his cheeks again after rinsing the shampoo of. He finds his doll eyes looking at him, thoughtful and scared and thankful and suddenly Bucky feels chocked up again so he takes his face between his hands and presses his lips to the blonde’s forehead and tastes the clean water there.

After quickly washing his own hair under Bucky’s interested eyes Gale drags them out. For himself he pulls on a bathrobe before taking using one of the towels for Bucky’s curls and then the other for delicately tracing down his torso between all the marks of violence. Bucky stays silent even when he starts to disinfect the cuts, giving away his exhauston completely, but the silence is soft like a protective cushion between them and the world.

Once he’s happy Gale takes him by the hand and pulls him after himself. Bucky’s back hits the mattress and he suddenly feels all the tiredness at once at the soft embrace of the clean sheets, and then immediately after wide awake again as Gale’s thighs settle on both sides of his lap, hands automatically coming to rest lazily on his hips as Gale leans over him on all fours to press airy pecks all over his abused face — his temples, cheekbones, eyelides, side of his nose, the sharpest edge of his jawline — as if trying to force a protective spell, or a blessing, upon his skin.

”Sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs dreamily as the other keeps going down from his face, pressing his face into his neck and collarbones and inhaling him like an addict looking for his fix. Gale hums in answer absentmindedly and kisses his way further down. He kisses each of the bruises softly, nibbing at the parts of his skin that are not injured, letting the skin go up and down with his teeth, never biting hard enough to actually hurt but leaving his little signatures everywhere on his abs, navel, hip-joints.

Bucky’s hands have found reign in his hair at some point, long fingers twisted in wet strands and pulling just a little when Gale breathes against the base of cock, pressing his lips there and giving the sensitive skin between his dick and balls like it was something sacred. Bucky hisses in want as Gale guides both of his knees over Gale’s shoulders when he gives more admiring kisses to his manhood, asking to be pressed down to the bed with Bucky, to be let to be lost in their pleasure for just a moment.

Gale goes down on him like he wants to regain him, almost like he wants to hurt him too to replace memories of everyone else hurting him. Bucky groans as his throat clicks when he gags on him, and then moans immediately after, doing it again and again. It’s lewd and dirty and perfect. John can do nothing else but take it and whisper soft praise, ”So good for me darling”, ”Just like that”.

Gale pulls back to breathe properly, and Bucky drags him sitting up by his hair, making Gale whine with a wide smile on his face. ”Show-off,” Bucky accuses him quietly, with a fond little smile, their dicks rubbing together as Gale sits on his lap again. The blondie laughs into the kiss as Bucky turns them around, backing Gale up until the top of his hair is touching the metal frame of the bed.

They stare at each other there for a moment, Bucky taking his time now to look at him, pressing the image to his mind for moments when the warmth of the younger is just a distant memory. Gale bites his lip again, but this time with a happy grin, as Bucky bullies his thighs apart with his own and then presses down on him until his calves are trapped between them. ”Are you sure?” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head. ”Sweetheart. The day when I respond to that ’you know what, I’m good actually’ I want you to end my life with a tool of your choice.” Gale makes a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue but reaches to play with Bucky’s curls again with his left hand, softness in his eyes that makes him look younger. Pain swirls through John at the sight. ”I’m really okay just having you close-” Bucky shuts him up by licking at his lips. ”Shh. Let me, baby.” Gale falls silent, looking up at him with stars in his eyes, and it scares Bucky he knows how much he trusts him. ”Please, let me,” he whispers against his lips again. Gale nods.

John takes one hand to each of his own and presses them gently to the headboard. A soflty whispered ”stay” and then ”good boy” as Gale wraps his slender fingers around the metal there makes the blonde’s breath hitch. John keeps his hands there for a bit before running them down his arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, the little noises Gale makes into it driving him wild. His own cock is aching and Gale’s drying saliva is cooling and making him extra sensitive, but he still takes his time prepping Gale carefully, taking care of him like he took care of him earlier in the bathroom.

He pulls his three fingers out when Gale’s sounds get loud and keening despite his best efforts of muffling them — there’s no need to be quiet here, but old habits die hard. He lubes himself up and sits up straighter on his knees between Gale’s legs. Gale is breathing hard, chest heaving between them, his hands still around the metal. John leans down to kiss him to not tell him how much he loves him and then pushes into him as Gale’s moans fill his lungs.

He can’t keep kissing him for long, the sudden need to take him hard overwhelming and immediate. There’s spit connecting their heart-shaped lips as Bucky presses his hands on the mattress on both sides of Gale’s head and puts his back into it, his pain, his frustration, and Gale throws his head to the side and smiles, and Bucky’s heart aches again so he fucks him harder, drinking in the happy sighs with his eyes and ears alike.

He notices that Gale’s arms are shaking with the effort of keeping them against the frame so he slows down for a moment, reaching for his hands again and carefully pulling them towards the core of them, waiting for Gale to have them wrapped around his neck before he drives into him slower but deeper. Gale’s gasping for breath with each thrust, his eyes closed and face focused on pleasure, and Bucky would like nothing more than to drag this out until the morning but he knows he needs to rest, and he’d rather fall asleep with Gale wrapped around him than see him leave at dawn to return for the shadows assigned to him.

Gale opens his eyes and they stare at each other, Bucky momentarily posessed by the hazy blue that looks up at him in melancholy, in need, in hope, in love. Bucky is immediately resigned, he wants to tear up his chest and stop feeling or stop the time and stay like this forever. He will give Gale anything he needs, anytime he can.

”In me,” Gale pleads him, and Bucky presses his lips to his forcefully now, overcome by the image of Gale pulling on his clothes and going back to his betrothed with Bucky still dripping from him. He whines aloud at the thought and gives it to him harder, better, louder, and Gale murmurs praise and gratitude into his open mouth before throwing his head back and coming between them. Bucky follows him there and then the room is silent again, both of them breathing hard, the sweat cooling between them. Gale has hidden his face to Bucky’s hair, away from the world, his arms hugging tightly around his neck, wanting to morph into this moment and only breathe the cheap hotel shampoo for the rest of his days. Bucky mouths at his neck, yearning to mark the pure skin that’s not his to claim, at least if he cares about keeping his Gale alive.

Bucky turns them carefully to their sides, slipping away from him. Gale feels suddenly cold and pushes himself closer so he can stay away from the room and the world beyond it for a moment more. Bucky makes a soothing cooing sound for he can’t say to him anything to make it better, and hugs him thight when he feels the first sob force it’s way out of his lover. He’ll hold him close for as long as he can, caress the perfect valleys of his back, and pray they both live to have this fleeting moment again.

[thelikesoffinn]

I love that when Tav dies and you try to talk to any companion with, for example, Shadowheart, they all more or less tell you to just fuck off.

Like, even Karlach just goes: Tell it to the chief.

Minsc? Minsc goes: Oh, I'm sorry but Boo is set on speaking to the other one.

Both Wyll and Gale basically say: Eh, I'd rather talk to the leader if I have to talk at all.

And Astarion?

"Sorry, Darling, I haven't got time for underlings. If your Boss wants to speak, I'm all pointy ears."

[wild-magic-oops]

[alkibiadessuperfan]

some baldurs gate scenarios in my game just make me laugh way too hard. the other day my durge who is in a toxic relationship with gale right now had to switch shoes with him because he was stuck and needed to cast mist step (the shoes are magical) so I have this image in my mind of this durge drow woman tossing boots across an abyss because her boyfriend that she doesnt even like has bad knees and cannot jump another time. right after that gale threatened to break up with her because she kept licking a dead spider and she was just like: I dare you to break up with me but remember who is the one that had to switch shoes with me just half and hour ago. they are awful it‘s so funny.