thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.
people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.
"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."
but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.
"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"
gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.
"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."
gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.
he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.
a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.
baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.
"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."
let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.
let me give my soul to you, in confidence.
"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."
he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—
and yet he knows he won't make the date.
"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"
he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.
without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.
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Thinking about Phantom and Mountains first time together… the size difference…how flexible Phantom is…How Mountain can just bend him any position he wants…how shocked Phantom is to find that, not only are the rumours about Mountain true, but severely downplayed…..how cocky and confident Phantom is that he can take Mountain no issue… how much he actually struggles to take him…how much Mountain likes watching him struggle…how after the first round Phantom is so proud of himself that he took it until Mountain pins him down again and forces him to take it over and over again until he’s done…
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okay but like arlecchino is so real to me. shes not just trapped in a cycle of trauma she cant break, but an active, willing participant in it. by the same system that has burned her, she only meagerly changes enough things about it that her “children” hold respect for her even in resentment. that is so real. do you know how many people try to change and to fix the problems in their life, only to create new, more complicated ones? its such a classic trope to have an abused person become a parent and yeah, maybe theyre marginally better than their parents, but they still dont get it. there’s something they dont get about love, that they desperately want to. it’s so tragic that even as a powerful harbinger, arlecchino is still a prisoner of her own trauma.
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the way that orym – always the one to make a point to talk to someone he sees (with his 31 passive perception) is uncomfortable or unhappy, always the one to put himself bodily in front of his party members in a fight – is, for the first time, both emotionally and literally out of reach,,, the way he walked out of the conversation, out of the room,,, the way he refuses to come down from the tree, the way he doesn’t want to make himself more accessible,,,
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no but tim missing for that long with no contact must’ve been terrifying for lucy especially because there is a version of him that’s dead and from what was shown in 5x18, it looks like lucy saw dim’s body, which makes her comment about her picturing him bleeding out somewhere hurt even more
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something that would’ve actually broken me was if when coma!buck was looking at himself before he woke up, he saw eddie absolutely breaking down but trying to compose himself. like just imagine the possibilities we could’ve gotten from that; buck physically seeing what him being in a coma was like for eddie. they both have this trauma that they share, in different ways, and they never talk about it. sure the kitchen convo and the poker famous fond exasperated “3 minutes and 17 seconds” but we never had eddie go “i was so distraught about the 3 minutes and 17 seconds and everything that followed when we didn’t know if you’d wake up or not.” and honestly i think we were a bit robbed.
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