#this is at the tiefling party! after he tells you to go have a dance and enjoy the music pick the “you're impossible” option

[grey-wardens]

You're impossible.

[aerynwrites]

Emeralds

Dammon x GN!Reader

A/N: yet another fictional character has invaded my brain lmao. So here’s a little fluffy piece I wrote for Dammon by I love him and wish I could romance him.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Love confessions, fluff, so much fluff, kissing, drinking (neither of them are drunk tho), required love.

Part 2

The party is in full swing, the tieflings having brought the wine and the music and so much more to your camp this evening. 

You watch from the sidelines as your companions enjoy the evening in different ways. Shadowheart and Astarion have been keeping to themselves despite your encouragement to participate. Karlach and Wyll are dancing and laughing by the fire, and even Gale is letting loose for once - showing off some small magic tricks to a group of tieflings. 

You’d talked to Halsin and Zevlor, both of them thanking you before wandering off to talk to other or take part in the festivities themselves. Leaving you to your own devices. 

Which…isn’t much at the moment. 

While you enjoy watching the others, you can’t help but search the small crowds for a particular blacksmith. 

You’d met Dammon when you arrived at the grove, and you’re slightly ashamed to admit that you developed a crush on the man from the moment you laid eyes on him. 

He’s handsome and kind to boot, going out of his way to help Karlach when so many other things were going on for him and his people. He even promised to help again in the future if he was able. 

How could you not pine after him? 

Your feelings had led you to spend more time than necessary at the grove, claiming to need so trade supplies or talk to someone or another just to see or talk with Dammon while you were there. Your companions got so tired of it you had to start slipping away on your own, not that you minded. 

Dammon always seems happy to see you, talking to you about anything and everything. Just a few days ago he mentioned he was working on something special for you, insisting it was a surprise when you pressed him for more details. 

You’d hoped to see him here at camp with the rest of the refugees, but as the night wears on, your hope dwindles. 

Perhaps he had so much work preparing for their departure to step away from his forge. It’s a reason you’d understand, but the pang of disappointment doesn’t hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up looking, when you finally spot a flash of a familiar green scarf among the milling bodies. 

Dammon makes his way through the camp, nodding in greeting to those he passes before he finally looks to you, eyes shining as his lips tilt upwards. 

He offers you a small wave as he makes his way towards you and you return the gesture, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks as he approaches. 

“Hi,” you offer simply, now lost for words that he’s standing before you. 

Dammon smiles, “Hello,” he says, turning to face the party in front of you both. “I was worried I wasn’t going to make it in time.” 

“I have to admit,” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I was looking for you,” you tell him, “I was disappointed when I didn’t see you.” 

Dammon turns to look at you again, brows raised in slight surprise. “You were looking for me?” 

Your eyes fall to the ground, embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Yes I…” you trail off for a moment before turning to look at him again, changing the subject instead. “What kept you so late at the forge?” 

Dammon studies you for a moment, as if judging your demeanor before his eyes leave yours as his hand falls to the small pack at his side. 

“I was finishing up your gift,” he tells you, patting the bag. “Couldn’t let myself leave without giving it to you.” 

At the mention of you both parting ways soon, you feel yourself deflate slightly. But before you can let disappointment take over what’s supposed to be a night of celebration, you jab a thumb over towards the far end of camp. 

“How about a toast to go along with the surprise?” You ask, silently hoping your proposition doesn’t come off as odd. “I have some wine back at my tent, admittedly a little better than what’s been provided…” 

Dammon laughs at that, lips pulled back into a grin. “I will have to admit my brothers and sisters are not known for their wine making…” he gestures towards you. “Lead the way.” 

Your tent is on the edge of camp, further away from the others and thus away from the center of the celebration. You can still hear the music and raucous laughter, but it’s slightly muted by the distance. 

You retrieve the wine and two cups from inside your tent before taking a seat on one of the pillows laying near the entrance, inviting Dammon to do the same. 

“Sit,” you gesture to a pillow near your own, “I’m sure you’ve been on your feet all day, if I know anything about you.”

Dammon huffs out a chuckle as he nods, setting his bag on the ground beside him before he takes a seat next to you. “Then you know me well,” he affirms, “The work never stops it seems.” 

You try to ignore how close he is as you pour two glasses of rich red wine and hand one to him before taking a sip of your own. “Hm…Yet here you are. Can a gift be so important to take you from your work?” 

You watch as Dammon flushes, his cheeks turning just a few shades darker as he stares into his wine glass. 

“This one is,” He says simply, before looking up to you. “It’s for you.”

His words are so simple, so plain, yet you can hear the sincerity in them. For a moment you’re worried you’re hearing what you want to hear, seeing what you want to see. But Dammon interrupts your thoughts as he sets his glass down carefully to reach into his bag. 

He produces a small long object wrapped in cloth and tied shut. Dammon starts to speak as he unties the string. 

“I don’t know if it’s your preferred weapon,” he says, pulling at the edges of the cloth. “But the idea came to me and I couldn’t stop until it was completed.” 

He fully unwraps the item to reveal a beautifully ornamented dagger. It’s handle is wrapped in fine dark leather, the blade sparkling dangerously in the moonlight. 

The parts of the pommel visible outside the leather are inlaid with small green stones. You reach out to touch them, but pause glancing up at the blacksmith in question. 

He smiles, nodding. “Please, it’s yours after all.” 

You take the dagger from his open hands, surprised to find that it fits perfectly in your hand. The grip isn’t too large or too small. It isn’t too long or short. It fits your hand down to the very last detail. The leather is soft in your palm, well worn but sturdy. You test the blade in your hand flipping it in the air before catching it easily once more. It’s perfectly balanced as well. 

Your eyes fall back to the precious green stones in the handle running your fingers over them to find them smooth beneath your calloused digits. 

“Emeralds,” Damon says softly. “I chose them mainly because they added to the blade's appearance but I remember my grandmother once told me they represent strength, balance and…” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It’s not important. I hope it’s to your liking.” 

You gaze at him, your mind searching for any knowledge you may have of gemstones, when a memory snaps into place. A passage from a book your mother read to you in a jewelry shop. 

“Look little love,” she said, finger tracing over lines of text in a thick book by the checkout counter. “It tells you of all the gems' meanings.”

She read off a few - sapphires for leadership and royalty, bloodstone for revitalization, jade for success and-

“Oh…look at Emerald!” She said happily. “‘Known as the stone of successful and abundant love, Emeralds open the heart to receive love in all aspects of life. They are thought to encourage you to give and receive love..” your mother awes, “That’s sweet.”

The memory leaves as quickly as it came, and you glance immediately up at Dammon, taking note of the hopeful look he gives you. As if you could ever be disappointed in anything he gave you. 

You swallow around the swell of emotion in your throat, once again trying to shove down the bubble of hope in your chest as you nod. Looking down to the blade in your hand, thumbing the emeralds once more. 

“It’s perfect, Dammon. It’s beautiful, I-“ you shake your head looking up to him again. “I can’t let you just give this to me. This probably cost a fortune in materials-“

Dammon holds a hand up to cut you off, giving his head a firm shake. “It’s a gift. For everything you’ve done for me - for us.”

It’s only now you fully notice how close your are to one another. Dammon’s leg brushes your own, his shoulder bumping yours. And each time he looks over at you, the faint sweetness of the wine on his breath brushes your cheek. 

Once again your eyes fall down to the dagger, fingers trailing over the emeralds as you finally reveal your own knowledge on the gems. 

“I remember a time when I was much younger,” you tell him, noticing he listens to you with rapt attention. “My mother took me shopping with her in the city and we went to this jewelry shop. We weren’t really looking to buy but she loved to look at all the jewels and gemstones.” You smile at the memory. “This particular jeweler had a book on display that listed all the names of the gems and what they mean and my mother read out about a dozen before landing on Emerald…” you trail off, catching the almost imperceptible hitch of breath in Dammon. 

“It said Emerald was also the stone of ‘successful and abundant love’,” you say, finally finding the courage to look back at Dammon, finding his eyes already on you. 

Your voice is a mere whisper now. “She said something about it opening the heart to give and receive love…” your words die on your tongue. “Was this truly only a gift of thanks?” You finally ask, hope burning so bright in your chest you have no chance of stamping it out now. 

Dammon’s bright blue eyes only leave yours to flick down to your lips, and the moment he captures your gaze again his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is a sweet, chaste thing, and you can sense his hesitance as he goes to pull away much too quickly. You manage to stop him as your free hand comes to rest on his shoulder pulling him closer as you return the kiss, telling him without words that you want this too.

Your heart soars when he responds in kind, turning so he’s facing you fully as his hands settle on your hips. You set the dagger down carefully in order to wrap your arms around his neck, afraid this might all be a dream if you don’t hold him close. 

He only pulls away when you both need to take a breath and even then you don’t go far. 

Dammon rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open after a moment. 

“Should I be ashamed to admit I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you?” 

A small laugh escapes your lips and you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. “No…because I feel the same way.” 

He practically beams at your words, eyes lighting up as a grin splits his lips. 

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?” 

You chuckle again. “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” 

Dammon responds eagerly, capturing your lips once more as his arms wind sound at your waist. He raises up on his knees as he does so, pulling you to do the same and removing any space between your bodies as he kisses you with abandon. 

You smile into the kiss when you feel his tail curl to wrap around your waist, as if he can’t get close enough. 

Maybe you can’t either…because from this moment on  you never want to be away from him. 

You are the first to pull away this time, stroking the apple of his cheek gently as you press one last kiss to the corner of his lips. 

You move to sit back on your knees, noticing how Dammon watches you in quiet curiosity as you reach for the delicate silver chain around your neck. 

Your knowledge of gems isn’t the only thing you’d gotten in that jewelry shop all those years ago. 

You pull the necklace from where it hides beneath your shirt, revealing a simple silver pendant with a glittering emerald in the center of it. You lift the chain over your head and hold it out towards Dammon. 

He looks perplexed for a moment, before shaking his head. “You don’t have to give me something in return,” he says gently. “The dagger was a gift.” 

You smile and nod to the necklace still in your hands. “And so is this. Here-“ you say leaning towards him more, “let me.” 

Dammon finally acquiesces, eyes slipping closed as he ducks his head towards you. 

You reach up and slip the necklace over his head, mindful of his horns, and watch as the pendant settles just below his green scarf. Your lips turn upwards as you run your fingers over the smooth stone. 

“It even matches your scarf,” you say playfully, warmth filling your chest as Dammon reaches up to examine the necklace. 

You pick up the dagger he gave you, admiring it again as you speak. “Now we both have something of each other. No matter where we end up.” 

Dammon looks up at you then, eyes glittering with an emotion you can’t quite place, before he reaches out to take your hands in his own. 

“I'm sure we’ll see each other again,” he says, resolve clear in his words. 

And despite not knowing exactly where your journey will take you…

You have a feeling that he’s right.

[lucrezianoin]

"Say please" Astarion's reaction - Goblin party vs Tiefling party (well done vs good boy)

Here we go, I need to analyze the party proposal from Astarion. So, if you do not get Astarion to proposition before the party he will do so at the party (if you have high enough approval). But the way he does it is OH SO different, and I think it might gives some clues on him and in general how he regards Tav/Dark Urge (which I will call Tav from now on).

Look, I played as female one and male the other, I don't think that gender is the reason for any difference here.

First of all, how to get to the party:

Goblin party: it is the evil choice. Not only you kill refugees, but you also ally yourself with the Absolute (which is the thing you are trying to hide from and attacked you). Your companions will react like this is the evil choice (Gale will threaten to leave, Wyll and Karlach leave, Lae'zel cares little, Shadowheart pretends not to care but she drinks herself into a stupor, and Astarion well, I will talk about it in this post)

The tiefling party: It is the good choice. Even the atmosphere of the party is better, there is music, dancing etc. You defeat the goblins, you save the day.

So, to start, to make sure I take everything in consideration, these were my approval scores with Astarion: 41 (identified by the game as High) at the goblin party (evil choice) vs 38 (medium) at the tiefling party (good choice).

OKAY HERE WE GO. So at the party, the scene will be different. I will post screenshots too, but if you want to see these two scenes back to back: first is the "evil one", and the second one is the "good one":

I will focus on three things:

The "say please" moment + "what"

the fact that you can tell him good boy in the good run, but not in the evil one (and how he reacts)

The general way Astarion acts

"SAY PLEASE" -> good boy vs well done

So in the above video you can check "say please" for evil choice at 2:01, and for good choice at 0:22.

So in the evil version we flirt and then when we refuse to go to bed with him (everything is so much more direct), we can ask "Say please". His reaction is a short, almost annoyed "What." The intonation sounds so flat, indignant.

In the good version, his flirting is much more subtle (as in, Tav is not completely on the same page), his "What?" definitely has a not of surprise and is much softer. I cannot tell if it is a good surprise or a bad one, but the general sense of it is more sensual?

The note from the devs is that he never had to be in this position (asking someone please for sex) so he is surprised. Interestingly, this note does not exist for the goblin party, only for the tiefling one.

Just look at his face:

He does seem more collected in the second one, maybe like he is keeping his flirty mask more secure on himself. There is definitely a smile, but with him it is hard to get if it is his mask, or him being positively surprised. BUT what we can say is that the mask slip in the first version, and he is much more annoyed.

I also noticed that the way he is animated to say PLEASE IS DIFFERENT. Top row: evil choice vs bottom row good choice

The first pic of both rows is his face immediately after the roll, when he starts to say please, one is definitely... not super happy about it, the other seems surprised. But the ending result is similar... still, the evil choice one has him in a much more seductive movement, that thing he does where he lowers his head and looks up so his eyes are half lidded? He does that a lot in act 1 seduction, where he is trying to sell you the fantasy.

The note from the dev was "through gritted teeth" so I do not think he is happy in any of the two choices.

Now, in reply to his please, you also have different options, which for me are the most interesting one:

(also in general the good version has more close ups to the characters faces for some reason)

In the evil one you can tell him "Well done! I will see you tonight" and in the good one you can tell him "Good boy! Let's get together tonight".

I THINK this is the focal point of why that "please" scene is so different. In the evil playthrough he saw you killing innocents, having little to no empathy, siding with, well, basically the villains. Your "say please" is more likely to come from a position of needing power over him than a fun flirting line. You literally slaughtered children, and now you are telling him to "Say please". He also could be surprised because he thought he was more of an equal to you? And the "well done" sounds very military-like. Yes, you did, just like I told you to, now get on with it.

In the good playthrough, instead, you have saved innocents, he even calls himself a hero and he is surprised to be on the hero side. Up till now, you have mostly done a very good deed out of the kindness of your heart. Asking him to "say please" would be cruel unless it is... kinky? FLIRTING? I think because of who Tav is the choice to ask him has to end up in the playful seduction category instead of the "I want you to grovel" category. His reaction is maybe surprised because that is unexpected, to hear you ask that after you have been so kind, but it is still firmly in the realm of sexy times. You don't tell him "well done", you tell him "GOOD BOY". That is definitely in the realm of sexy times much much more, and kinda gives a different sense to the scene.

Just look at the difference between these two faces!! It is the same line, but in one case he is a bit closed off, in the other his face is so much more open. I can almost read... hope?? Because you are a good person?

General attitude

The thing is, it could also just mean that he is THAT good. I still think the "what" is a slip of his mask, but in general the way he acts could be just tailored for who you want and who you are. So of course, if you are good and kind you would probably be manipulated more easily by puppy easy and open looks, so the second option would work better on that Tav.

Or simply, he is already changing?? He is seeing that there is a different way to live and not being killed.

In general, the way he flirts with Tav is also quite different:

In one case (first one, evil) he is more direct. He is not beating around the bush, he asks you what happens next and you can literally tell him "well, I will sleep with you".

In the good version, he is much more elaborate, and even your choice to ask him to sleep together is much less direct ("quality time").

In general, I think what DorianDarkstar @doriandarkstar (twitter account) (WHO HAS SO MANY GOOD INSIGHTS ON ASTARION and is often subjected to my endless posts) said in reply to me mentioning the scene makes the most sense:

Also, I just wanted to add the two Tav faces:

No idea if this is just a difference of drow vs tiefling, but my drow (evil choices) is much more annoyed and confrontational!

[avocado-writing]

we need a rewrite of the tiefling party where tav can actually convince wyll to join the party and have fun please 🥹

notes: love love love writing for Wyll. he's such a sweetie! Implied bard reader but not explicit.

rating: T, but there will be a spicy part 2 coming up!

The party is lively and your head is swimming from the buzz of attention. That, and the small amount of wine you’ve had: not so much as to dull your senses but enough to make you merry. Warmed with Arkhen’s Hoard you take a break from the grateful tieflings and head out towards the familiar babble of the river. The further from camp you go the quieter your surroundings get, and you’re able to breathe a little more easily knowing there aren’t half a dozen children hanging on your every word. It’s lovely to be the centre of attention because you helped them, but a little overwhelming with all those eyes on you.

Of course, that’s not the only reason that you’ve come wandering over this way.

Wyll sits with his legs crossed on the bank, staring at the way the water dances under the moonlight. He seems at peace, the calmest he’s been since Mizora appeared and sprouted those horns for him; shoulders relaxed, tensionless. 

“Wondered where you were,” you say, quietly. You don’t want to make him jump after all. It hurts your heart to see the way that his body stiffens when he hears your voice. Ah: there’s the tension again. Nevertheless, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips - but one with a hint of sadness. You’ve studied his face enough in camp in order to know when he’s trying to hide something. It makes your heart ache bitterly that he would try and hide it from you, though. 

“Thought I’d be able to sneak away. Should have known you’d be able to find me.”

You take a seat next to him in the grass. It’s a soft spot he’s managed to pick, not wet from its proximity to the river, but green and lush from its plentiful feeding. You lock eyes with him and press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded.

“Wyll! You make me sound like I’m a bloodhound tracking you down, not someone who cares about you checking in.”

He laughs, and you see him begin to lighten again. When he smiles this time, it’s sincere.

“That’s not what I meant. Apologies. Just that I’m not surprised you know me well enough to guess where I’d end up.”

“Down by the river,” you hum, fingers suddenly itching for the feel of a lute’s strings. 

“You’re always singing that, you know?”

“I am, it’s a good song. I’ve never once heard you complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining! I never would, I love to hear you sing. Since I joined you on this journey, my life has been filled with so much music. It’s been wonderful.”

You put your hands behind you and lean back on them, allowing your face to become level with his. He looks into your eyes and, this close, you can see his breath hitch a little when your fingers brush together.

“I could be persuaded to do an impromptu performance, but I’d need my favourite person in the front row to give me courage.”

“I’m sure that you don’t need me for that. Courage is the one thing you couldn’t possibly lack.”

“To be my muse, then.”

You know if you lifted your hand and felt his cheek, it’d be warm.

“Please, Wyll,” you continue, softly. “Please come and join us. Everybody wants you there. Me especially, if I’m being selfish.”

“Ah…” you can see he’s warring with himself. On one side of the argument, he longs to indulge you. On the other side…

“I’m not sure. I think people may find me off-putting.”

You furrow your brow.

“You? The single most charming man I’ve ever met?”

Another flash of shyness over his face. You can tell that he enjoys the compliment, but his self-doubt wins out.

“Perhaps I was, before the horns.”

“Oh, Wyll. Do you think anybody up there cares about those? A group of your friends and people you fought tooth and nail to protect? I know for a fact that Karlach wants to challenge you to a drinking game.”

“That seems like more of a reason to hide! I think she’d drink me under one of the tables,” Wyll grimaces, and smiles when you laugh at his silliness. He seems a little more open to the idea, but still not completely sold.

“I don’t know… just… the children…”

“The children who love you and hang on your every word? Umi won’t stop asking me where you are, and someone needs to keep Mol in line…”

“I doubt even the gods themselves can do that.”

When he chuckles you find yourself reaching out to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp ridge that was raised there when Mizora cursed him. His eyes widen and glaze over before sliding closed, nuzzling into the gesture, soul laid bare to the sweetness of your touch. 

 “Nobody feels unsettled by you. Nobody is afraid of you.”

His lips fall apart, anticipating the way you reach in to kiss him.

It’s a soft kiss. Lips dancing slowly, a waltz, noses bumping together a little, his horns grazing your hairline. Your heart soars at it.

When it’s over you sit there and breathe together. Sharing the same air, letting your blood thrum through you in an intertwined heartbeat.

“Will you come and join us? Will you come and dance with me?” you ask.

Wyll loses the argument with himself.

“Yes.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[forgeofthenine]

When you said you can't drink hot drinks rn because it's hot for a moment my dumb ass was like "huh, they're so into the characters, they're straight up writing from Elturel down in Avernus". And then I remembered the southern hemisphere exists....

Anyway as a countertenor, I wonder how the Bachelors would react to someone serenading them. And also how they'd feel about someone serenading them. (Also kind of about countertenors since a loooot of people are weirded out when hearing my low speaking voice and then very high singing voice, if that's not too ultraspecific...)

(Also also, I feel like E Lucevan Le Stelle from Puccini's "Tosca" is such a Zevlor song. Imagine you're getting closer to him, flirting here and there, then during the party getting close. You promise to see each other again. And then everything goes to shit. Now he is trapped in the pod, unsure how much longer he has, terrified of turning into a mindflayer any second now. And he thinks of you...)

These headcanons are a combination of the above request and the anonymous request 'I like to sing, I sing when I get the chance alone. Now I wonder how the three tiefling bachelors react to a singing love interest?'

As for the hot drink thing, this ask and the hot drink one came in after multiple days of 27/28 degrees Celsius as the daily high and I actually felt like I was in the hells lmao. Sometimes I also wonder if people can tell where in the southern hemisphere I'm from by the way I write...

The song you suggested is beautiful and absolutely gives big Zevlor energy, I recommend any Zevlor fans check it out on youtube :)

The bachelors with someone who sings

Dammon

There's nothing Dammon likes more than coming inside from his forge and hearing your singing filling the house

If you sing specifically to serenade him that's even better

Dammon loves to both praise you and be praised, and there's hardly higher praise than someone singing about their love to you

Blushes so much if you sing him a love song, flushes even more if you sing a song that has innuendos

He could honestly listen to it all day

I feel like when the two of you are having spring cleaning days around the house he'd ask if you wouldn't mind singing

It makes working inside so much more pleasant for him

When you're singing while doing stuff he'd absolutely join in, though I feel like his singing voice isn't bad but it isn't anything special either

Dammon just loves getting to hear your voice, especially if you happen to be singing

Zevlor

Please sing for this sad tiefling

He hardly knows what to do with himself when you serenade him

Zevlor loves it, but suddenly doesn't know how to stop his face from flushing or his tail from swishing

Absolutely gives you the sweetest kiss when you finish

It's such a treat for him to hear you sing, nevermind the fact your singing your love for him

He loves it

I feel like Zevlor is good at shanty style singing, the hellriders definitely used to sing while working or on long rides

Sometimes he still softly sings some of his old work songs

He'd absolutely melt if you decided to join in and sing with him

It soon becomes one of Zevlors favourite pastimes

Rolan

Rolan loves to hear you sing

Even better, he loves when he's the only one to hear you sing

For you, in private, to serenade him with a love song is almost too much for him to handle

He feels like his heart is going to burst with love for you

Just think of all the sweet things he murmurs between kissing you after you sing for him

But, such affections should be only in private

Speaking of in private, when it's just the two of you ask him to sing with you

Out of all three of these men he's definitely the best singer

His voice almost sounds magical-

Rolan will reluctantly agree to sing, and after a while would get much more into it

The type to lead you in a very simple dance while the two of you sing

Just a very affectionate boyfriend that loves hearing you sing

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Part II Enemies to lovers

Part II of Gale x Tav enemies to lovers fic, during the Tiefling party, Gale's POV. Enjoy, galmancers

Tonight was the night, he thought to himself, the one he would finally get a moment with her. A moment without their companions, a moment to share exclusively with her. Although they had only been traveling together for a few weeks, he had known Tav for a lifetime. 

Oh, yes, Gale knew who she was. He knew from the moment she pulled him from the portal, her expression dark when their eyes met. Tav. His first rivalry and first crush. Gale had been so embarrassed and bewildered, needing rescuing and then of all people it was her… now, he was in too deep. He had pretended not to know her, although he would have recognized her anywhere. It was a face, like Mystra’s, that was seared irrevocably into his mind. Tav was brilliant - a well studied wizard, a stunning rival, and had almost gained Mystra’s favor. 

Almost. 

That’s where their story diverged. 

She drove him mad, both because she was so stubborn and always insisted on being right, having the last word. Very haughty. He found it infuriating. Still, there was something in her dark eyes that captivated him. They were so emotive and bright. He forgot how these tempestuous pools threatened to drown him. The way her hair danced around her when it was windy, how her face flushed in the heat of battle, how she would tease him mid combat about his choice of attack. 

He felt like a school boy again, confused and infatuated, yet irate when Tav tried to invoke the merits of arcane magic over any other form. Gale knew if he didn’t tell her the truth, if he didn't act, Astarion’s gaudy flourishes would win her over before he had a chance and it would like his boyhood all over again. You see, Gale needed time to sort out his feelings, to ensure he was prepared to act on them, and with the orb that threatened to consume him he worried any undue excitement would cause him unnecessary discomfort… or worse. 

He was smitten from the moment Tav joined Blackstaff. Her seriousness, the fire in her, how passionate and excitable she was… and then how she had slapped his hand at first when he was stuck in the portal. When he first laid eyes on her in class he had fumbled awkwardly in his introduction. He remembered so clearly how she looked him up and down, smirked and shook her head. That was it. No “hello,” no “nice to meet you,” just a head shake and she walked off. 

Gale attempting to figuring her out was worse than him trying to open ancient tomes, tying to decipher text that was unfamiliar to him, washed away by the fingers of time. The stolen glances they shared or how often he caught her staring at him. In truth, it was because he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Too many times he was distracted in the heat of combat, entirely missing his shots because he had been too captivated by her. 

Gale watched her flit about the party, her gregariousness and ability to connect with others so apparent. He felt the pangs of envy sink into him as she seemed to get along with Rolan, sharing bottle after bottle. He would be her type, he scoffed to himself. Rolan? Please.

This had been the same problem in their youth. Gale would watch her from afar, smitten, and then in class she would say something so maddening, so wildly inaccurate Gale could not let it go. And neither could she. The first argument they got into was outside the building during a break between classes and were debating the merits of spell sculpting versus defensive magic. Gale smirked to himself, thinking of how furious he’d gotten as she hurled low level spells at him, hurting him rather substantially. Despite his best efforts, she left without a scratch. The way she seemed to flick away each of his attempts was inspiring. And humiliating.

Needless to say she proved her point. Gale needed the infirmary after that introduction to her. He couldn’t see how incredible she was at the time, though. He was a child, clouded by the worry he was inferior. Unworthy. 

He was pulled from this reverie, his expression darkening as he watched Astarion approach her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. Gale was many things, free of envy was not one of them. He turned, his face hot as he pushed into his tent. His stomach sank and he paced like a caged animal, worried he missed his opportunity. He felt the orb stir and he groaned, when suddenly he heard a stumble just outside his tent.  

There she was. 

*******

“No,” he said softly, hoping his voice was steady. His heart felt like it would jump out of his throat as his hands brushed against her skin. He shuddered, a soft smile on his lips. “No I don’t think you’re pathetic.” He felt the lump in his throat grow, wanting - needing to tell her. He felt pulled to her, as if she were his planet and he a meager moon destined to orbit her. The feeling rivaled those for Mystra herself. 

Gale was elated when Tav nodded, granting her consent for him to take away her discomfort. This type of magic often felt so intimate, as if Gale was reaching into her core to suck out the posion. Gale’s hand brushed over her head, his fingers just touching her curls as he mended her. 

When their eyes met, the room felt stifling. The chemistry undoubtable, the pull he felt to capture her lips in his. He turned away, trying to collect himself and cleared his throat, “That should do the trick,” he murmured. 

“I hate to admit that it did,” she said, her voice teasing but gentle. He felt her stand and then there she was, before him. He stood a bit taller, more confident. 

Gale inhaled sharply, the words falling from his mouth before he had a chance to overthink them. “I was wondering - hoping that you would find me tonight. Amidst all of the joviality, I wasn’t sure you’d find the time.” He smiled and he saw her curiosity pique. His breath was shallow, his heart thumping, “Would you… want to channel the weave with me? Just a moment for the two of us?” 

Do you want to channel the weave with me? He groaned internally, embarrassed by his clumsy delivery. This was it, he thought. Unworthy.

And then he noticed the glimmer in her eye, the lopsided smile, and heard one, simple word. “Yes.” 

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Here I am back with some hot takes about what I, personally, would do in the BG3 universe were I yeeted into it and forced to be... the Main Character

First of all, I love the idea of having played the game before getting sucked into the world because it adds a layer of horror that I don't think would even benefit you one bit. Knowing exactly what's going to go down would be DISABLINGLY horrific.

But OK. OK, so let's say I'm there. And I get granted like, main character abilities. Sorcerer makes the most sense cause like, you just HAVE powers. Gucci. We good.

I would gay panic the minute I met Shadowheart. Sorry. End of world what? Half elf with twinkling eyes and a swaying braid just told me to be her leader. Im- hghhh

Laezel I honestly think I could hold my own against. When it comes to fight or flight I am a flightless bird and her particular brand of bullying in the first act I know I could assert myself.

Gale... besties. I married my partner partially because I love info dump. As a kid I watched a movie about robots who rich people had in their homes like a Google or a Alexa but human shaped and you could ask them questions all day and I was like, I want one. Gales that guy. I wanna listen all day. But if he fell in love with me I'd be so mad 😠 no, wizard. Sit down and tell me fun facts. No thirsting.

Because I'm traumatized with a deep desire to feel safe I think I'd gravitate to Wyll a lot for organizing the camp, spending time together, easing fears, etc. He's also really safe to physically be around so I can see myself being quick to instigate hugs and stuff. No getting a crush on me tho, Wyll, no. Down boy.

Karlach probably would intimidate me more than Laezel. Lemme just say, not because she's bad, but because she's a firecracker. Her explosive rage in her personal quest would probably have me hanging back but then when we get back to camp we'd be chill pretty quick

I'd be all over Halsin because he'd make me feel safe, also. I have this thing about safety. He's also so concerned with the shadow curse I wouldn't worry about his crush at all but would very much enjoy his warm presence by the fireside

At the Goblin Party, I guarantee I'd not sleep with Astarion, mostly because HOW he comes on to you would be a big nope for me. Gale with his "pay attention to only me tonight or else I'm not gonna show u a magic trick would have me being like k bye, I'd comfort Wyll and give him space, I'd walk past Karlach and wish her well partying, I'd ignore Laezel and if she told me I smell good sweaty I'd go bathe in the lake.

In fact, sorry, but I am NOT engaging in a big party until after I get a bath at the druid camp. Maybe I saved the tieflings just to be able to make them make me a hot bath. I'm just saying.

I'm walking into that party CLEAN and I'll sit with Shadowheart at the waterfall and I wouldn't be allowed to drink because I'm sober 😭 but I think my entire horny ass party would be very disappointed

Then I'd go and dance like an absolute hoe on a rock to let off steam in the middle of camp, still sober, and pass out by the fire.

[tavyliasin]

All We Cannot Have - Halsin x f!Tav One Shot

Some things magic cannot heal, and Tav has held her secrets close to her chest for a long time. It was just her luck to fall for the one man who clearly longed for something out of reach... When the world felt like it was ending, his love was a comfort, his embrace a rock in the storm. But now the seas are calm once more, she knows she has to let go, to swim away and leave him the chance to find what he wants most even if it has to be without her.

And yet... Letting go is harder than holding on ever was.

--- Click Here to read on AO3

2,386 words Pairing: Tav/Halsin SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fertility/Infertility,

Spoilers References to all acts and epilogue Canon Compliance Almost everything is canon except the character circumstances Other Notes This is a heavy and emotional chapter, so if the content is at all troubling you please feel free to skip it, or ensure you have support for your wellbeing.

Mood/Song Fear Not This Night by Freya Catherine and Jack Victor "Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart. Auroras, mists and echoes dance in the solitude of our life. Pleading silent arias gently grieving in captive misery. Darkness sings a forlorn song and yet our hope can still rise up. Nightmares come when shadows grow. Lift your voice, lift your heart.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way. And though the night sky's filled with blackness... Fear not rise up... come on and take my hand. Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way."

----- FULL ONE SHOT FIC BELOW THE CUT -----

Tav first noticed it at the Tiefling party. Of everyone there, he was the one speaking with the refugees, a light at the heart of the celebration. Halsin’s laughter was warm and soft, echoing around the clearing as the children hung from his arms, climbing on tables to leap onto his back. Her heart warmed even as the tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, a lingering pain still stinging in old wounds she refused to reveal.  The next time was with Arabella, the druid quietly comforting her after the fate of her parents had been uncovered. He was patient with the girl, despite how abrasive she was in the heat of her grief at first. He let her calm as he made small honey treats, the smell of the cooking eventually luring her over to try one. Tav stayed back. She had done enough damage for one day - there was never going to be a right way to tell the girl her parents were gone, after all. Arabella would only be more upset if she got involved… Not long after came Thaniel, both halves of him. Watching him carry the boy - a child by appearance alone, he was likely older than both her and Halsin put together - broke her heart in two. The worry on his face, the determination to do what was right for both of them, the deep and unwavering care was evident in every word and action. When the curse was finally lifting, she was sure he might weep as they watched the land returning to what it always should have been, the smiles of Thaniel and Oliver both reflecting in his eyes.  Even at the Last Light Inn, several times Tav saw Halsin sneaking extra rations to the refugee children, slipping a couple of coins to them, leaving things they might like unattended where they could be “stolen”. 

It had been half a century since she last thought of anything like this. She thought it might easily be another full one too, but there he was, and all the emotions were stirring without permission. Still, against better judgement, Tav’s blue-tinted skin took on a violet hue when he looked her way, the blush rising to the tips of her pointed ears. They were close in age, the moon elf finding herself drawn to her cousin-kin easily, and by all accounts they were a perfect match in every way…except that one. She would give him the world, had she any choice in the matter, but the world could not give them what his heart clearly longed for. The city was little different, first with Yenna coming to camp, then with seeing the refugees again… It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. Halsin loved them, every single one, and his face would light up brighter than the sun when they smiled. It was like he was born for the role, even though he pushed it all aside, choosing to risk his life for Tav and her friends, for a city he had no stake in… Selfless to a fault. How could she not fall in love with him? His warmth and kindness further warmed by the way she felt in his arms, the way his lips caressed her skin, how fully he would give himself over to her. Halsin was everything she had ever dreamed of in a lifetime of wanderlust. And how it broke Tav’s heart to know it couldn’t last… After the final battle, the party had lasted long into the night, and their personal celebration went past the break of dawn. One last time, she told herself, one time to remember, to sear him into her memory. 

—

The soft light of the morning sun was filtering through patchwork curtains as they began to rise - much as she might wish, staying in his arms forever was not an option. The comfort of warm blankets and a warmer embrace could not last. Halsin’s soft eyes caught the look in her own. “My heart? You look troubled, what is it? Was I too…excited, last night? Lay down, let me take care of you-” 

“No, it’s not that. You were perfect, as always.” Tav cut him off, pulling back a little, gathering her clothes to pull them back on. Maybe for the last time… It had to be. For his sake, no matter what she wanted. “What are your plans from here? For the future?”

“My love, I thought we had spoken of this. I know for certain now. The lands you helped me to heal, it will make the perfect home for everyone who is lacking one. We can rebuild. There are many who will never feel this city as a home, many more who are not welcomed by the current residents…” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she withdrew the moment he made contact like she had been scalded. She regretted it the moment she heard the hurt in his voice.  “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I was hoping you would join me, to build our new home together.” 

“I’m not right for you, Halsin.” Tav could no longer meet his eyes. Her heart sank to her knot-filled stomach, the agony of the truth burning in every tear as she tried so desperately to hold back the flood. “I can’t give you what you want.” 

“There is nothing I could want more than simply to have you in my life, to have a place of our own in the Oakfather’s arms- My heart, I would be satisfied simply to grow old and grey with you.” Every moment made it harder, she couldn’t even bring herself to pull her shoulder away from the gentle hand he laid upon it. “Why would you think yourself unworthy? Nature has made no finer blessing than you.” “Nature…did not bless me, Halsin. I can never give you what you want.” As Tav talked, Halsin remained silent, listening, honey-brown eyes fixed on her even though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She brought her knees to her chest, still sat on the bed and only half dressed, but she had never felt more naked than when she spoke next. “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you, it’s impossible not to notice how badly you want a family. And…that’s what I can never give. I’ve sought every cure, been to every healer, I once even considered the aid of a Hag but thankfully had at least more sense than desperation that time. Even a Wish would be foolish - the gods have such a way of twisting the words of our dreams into the shadows of nightmares.” She sighed, the breath leaving her with the last hint of hope that had long sat abandoned in her heart. “So…I can’t go with you, it wouldn’t be fair. You deserve someone who can let you become the father you are so clearly destined to be. I love you more than any words could ever do justice, and that’s exactly why I’m doing this now…it would be unkind to us both to deny you that.” —

Halsin watched her, as he had many times. He had seen the hint of pain Tav pushed back, noticed the thin silver scars on her body when they had spent many a night together, and he saw her now. How her body shook with the emotion she had been holding back since long before they met. Desperation, loneliness, heartbreak… A part of him knew, had always known, those silver-grey eyes were a mirror. The glass was shattering, beautiful shards falling as saline rivers coursing down her cheeks and landing on the dark silk of her shirt. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling her close, no longer letting her make the choice to draw back and leave. Her dark hair was soft under his caress, her whole being feeling so small and fragile he never wanted to let go in case she fell apart completely. The druid had prayed to the Oakfather many times, had walked the same road of seeking answers that could never be found. Even nature’s blessings had their limits, after all. Not every dream was destined to come true. As Halsin felt Tav’s tears ebb away to the quiet of eyes that burned dry with nothing left to give, his own heart threatened to break all over again. He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could fill her with hope, give her a solution, but at the end of the day reality would always break through. 

—

Tav felt his voice as much as heard it, the soft vibration rumbling through his chest, his words quiet and warm. “My love…” He was hesitant, gentle fingers caressing her back and hair with the same affection he always had, strong arms refusing to let go. “Do you think that biology is all there is to it? That the substance of the body is what makes a family?” Tav listened, sniffling slightly, feeling a little unsure on how to answer.

“I have known for a long time that I can never father a child, but I can still be a father.” Halsin’s words came as a surprise. She had always assumed that the weight on her shoulders was one she would carry alone… It wasn’t something that lovers discussed in the early days of romance, and friends would rarely raise the topic other than to announce good tidings. It was a silent shame. Penance for sins unknown, the chains that bound the broken to the cracks in their souls that even magic could never heal- And in one moment, it all fell away.

Halsin lifted her chin with his hand, looking deep into her eyes, the spark of hope in the warm honey tones beginning to heal the old scars that had been on the edge of tearing asunder. “My heart… What we pass on is far beyond our looks, our bloodlines. We give of ourselves those deeper parts. Our love, our heart, our memories… Everything that we feel and all that we have learned is more of who we are than the red in our veins or the colour of our eyes.” “I…you never told me.” Tav blinked, realising the irony in how she had held back the truth from him just the same. “What was I to say, my love? I could see how it hurt you, I hoped that asking you to join me today would bring only joy, to promise you a future. Our future.” He kissed her forehead, hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently wiping away the stains of tears. “I thought I had wept enough for the both of us, on those nights when you rested peacefully below the stars, and all my mind could recall was how lonely you looked when the children were playing.” Tav finally released her knees from her own grip, bringing her hand to the back of the druid’s head, fingers lightly lacing through soft hair as she pressed her forehead against his own. “We should have spoken far sooner.”

His laugh was as soft and warm as the scent of moss and leather that was always present when they were this close. “Whatever shall we do with each other…” “Maybe I should apologise first. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, or to pull away, and, gods, the last thing I really wanted to do was leave. But I thought…I thought it was the only way you could have the future you deserve.” Tav felt the embarrassment colour her cheeks a deeper violet beneath the pale blue tones that her own parents had gifted her. “You have every right to be angry with me for how foolish I’ve been.” “Anger is the furthest thing from my mind,” Halsin soothed her fears, channelling a little magic to his hand to cool her cheek. “Let us make our plans. Thaniel’s lands should be recovering well but will still need time. Yet there are plenty of people here in the city who have found themselves unwelcome, more still who feel unsafe after all they have seen in these streets. There is a town to rebuild, an Inn we can stay at, even Moonrise could be restored to become a beacon of hope again.” Tav smiled, her heart warming more than it had in many a long year. “And plenty of children who need a family.” 

“Sadly a great number of them,” Halsin replied, almost as if he felt the ripples of their loss. “They may not all wish to come with us, but we can give them an option. An open door, open arms, and open hearts.” 

“Is there ever a limit to your kindness, Halsin?” Tav rubbed her nose against his affectionately. “Possibly.” He returned the gesture, the hint of his own smile in his response this time too. “Would you like to find out?” 

“We’re going to end up rivalling Jaheira’s brood, aren’t we?” She couldn’t help but think of the older druid’s adopted family, how they all took care of each other when she was away. “But let’s not go on too many adventures, not unless we have to. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement and danger for a while.” “I couldn’t have said it better myself, my love.” Halsin finally broke the contact, leaning his head back a little to look at her again. “I cannot wait to see if any of them pick up your laugh, the way you smile in the sun, develop your terrible skills in the kitchen-”  Tav playfully bit his nose. “That was one time! But… Fine, you can teach them how to cook, which berries are safe to eat, and I’ll show them how to properly hold a sword or run from the scary old bear chasing after them to wash behind their ears.”

The pain was falling away, the pieces of broken dreams being gathered from the floor, stitched together into a new pattern. Patchwork, perhaps, and not the tapestry either of them might have imagined in centuries past, but every new thread wove something stronger. Shards of what couldn’t be beginning to form the stained glass mosaic of a brighter future now the storm had passed.

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

I won't lie, I took my heart from my chest and threw it at the page, hurting every feeling I have ever had in the process. But that in itself is cathartic, the piece needed out, the story needed to be told.

Life may not always work in our favour, fate takes away choices we might have had, and some things even magic cannot solve. But healing can come in different forms, like finding a different future, and finding the last flickering light in the dark to chase the shadows away.

[theycallmeratt]

Dance

Rejoining high society in Baldur's Gate had not gone smoothly, but in the slick way that only patriars could make something go "not smoothly". Like slipping down spiked ice. The process went quickly and slowly scraped away all of Wyll's resolve.

While Wyll was still a human, regular citizens seemed to regard him with the same discomfort as a tiefling—hell-touched, but maybe not his fault. Likely not his fault. He was, after all, the Blade of the Frontiers. And Karlach had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that he saved her. Perhaps, like a tiefling, he was simply paying for an ancestor's mistake.

But here, in high society, where everything was controlled and arranged, "bad blood" was a flaw worth judging. Most of the patriars had never actually met a tiefling, despite hundreds living in their city. Wyll suspected that his peers' frosty attitudes were less about the fact that he made a deal with a devil and more that he’d been caught.

Read more on AO3, or below the cut.

Nevertheless, whenever he returned from helping Karlach in Avernus, he played his part as a dutiful son: attending soirees, debutante balls, war games and gallery openings. He learned to coordinate his hair ornaments so his horns might also look like ornaments, to temper his smile so only his most human teeth showed, to keep his eyelids heavy so in dim light the red might be mistaken for brown. Harder to learn was to watch the dances and not hope to be invited, to accept that people assumed the thoughts he voiced were fiend-tainted and to settle for spending most events seated at his table, nursing a fine wine that tasted exactly as sour and dull as any wine he could get in the Lower City.

Hardest was to do it alone.

"A dance?" asked a voice. Wyll started at the proffered hand. The invitation might mean something… had Wyll not watched the asker and friends giggling over dares, then point to him and elbow each other as they drew straws.

"No thank you," he said.

"But—"

"He said no. You will leave," a low voice growled.

Wyll found himself looking up at Minthara and Astarion. The two least likely people he expected to see here. Coming to his defense. Astarion thought he was a pathetic fool and Minthara hated him even more than her standard Drow misandry. 

"How did you get in here?" Wyll asked.

"We were invited. At least, we should have been," Astarion said, hooking his arm through Minthara's. She immediately unhooked and pushed him a half step away.

"I am a hero of the city," Minthara said. "I am owed a certain amount of respect. If not given it, I will take it."

"You might learn something from her, darling," Astarion said.

"About breaking into parties?"

"About demanding what you are due. You saved this wretched place twice, after all."

"I didn't do it for respect."

"Ugh, I forgot how you you are."

"This conversation is going nowhere," Minthara said. Without looking, she grabbed a passing courtier, looked him over, shoved him back, grabbed another one and said, "Acceptable. Congratulations, boy. You will dance with one of the slayers of the Absolute!"

"Er—" said the courtier.

"He's an amazing dancer," Astarion drawled. "And you know what they say about amazing dancers."

"I don't need—" Wyll started, but Minthara gave him a look that suggested she would blow a blood vessel if a male said no to her.

"Sorry," Wyll whispered to the courtier, joining him in a circle dance. He held his hand up and straight out, ghosting over his partners' palms as they switched and circled, so close he could feel the heat coming off each of them. None of his partners made an attempt to speak to him, although they had no problem laughing and cajoling each other. After far too much time, the loneliest circle dance in the world ended.

Astarion caught him coming off the floor and dragged him back on, his hand cool on Wyll's. "Tell me, do you waltz?"

"Not with my friends!" The waltz was a scandalous dance, newly introduced with far too much contact. Wyll had practiced it alone in his rooms, imagining a kind partner, until he was so flushed he had to take a cold shower.

"Then allow me to expand your horizons. I'll lead," Astarion said, placing his hand politely high on Wyll's waist. "You really should come to the Lower City more. Everyone is asking about you. It's quite annoying. And you never wrote me back about slaying a spotted frilled cockatrice."

"I did! I told you not to try. A cockatrice is dangerous enough. Spotted and frilled? You're going to get yourself killed. Again."

"I suppose you'll just have to help me, then."

Wyll sighed. "I suppose I will."

"It'll be good for you! Look at you, when was the last time you saw some blood?"

"I've been in the blood wars!"

"Not fiend blood. Proper blood, blood you can really sink your teeth into." Wyll groaned. Why did Astarion insist on hinting at the vampire thing in public? "When was the last time you had a good fight?"

Too long. Everything itched. His collar was too tight. His everything filled with a yearning to escape. Magic tickled under his skin. He wanted to blast something, to hold someone. Not Astarion, who would make fun of him, or Minthara, who would stab him. Someone—

Minthara appeared suddenly. "Enough, Astarion. I have found him a new partner. A first son of a dignitary."

She shoved the poor man towards Wyll.

"I'm sorry about my friend," Wyll said.

"I'm sorry she hasn't brought you a daughter," he retorted. Wyll cringed. Minthara was… better, but still not as good as she could be. "Is she using me to insult you?"

"No. That's what third sons are for."

The son-of-a-dignitary laughed, a real open laugh, not the polite titters people had been using to appease the Duke. Wyll relaxed a little. 

"Your hands are… human," said the son-of-a-dignitary. "Linnacker said as much, of course, but with all the rumors going around…"

"Tis a shame when loose tongues flap about, embarrassing themselves," Wyll said, shocked to hear an Astarion sentiment march out of his polite mouth.

"Indeed! Especially after all you've done for the city. Your friend told me of how you single handedly outwitted a devil's contract, using a fiend to gain power, then saving the city twice! And to that, I say good show."

Wyll glanced to Minthara. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not in approval that he wasn't focused on her offering.

"Thank you," he said, and the dance turned into a fine conversation, the first one he'd had in months. The dance even ended with the son-of-a-dignitary waving over his sister, who was a marvelous dancer even though she was only fourteen. They led a line dance through the center of the ballroom. Minthara looked appalled. After, he was approached by another, and another. Some clearly saw him as a curiosity, but one introduced himself as a third-son and another made a brash joke about loose tongues, a clear invitation that Wyll gracefully turned down. By the end of the session he'd collected several calling cards and been invited to a card night at an Upper City lounge.

The life that he should've had, falling neatly into his lap, with only a few helping jabs by two white-haired multi-centurions. He raised a glass to Astarion as he was pulled past by a new friend and into a circle of other guests. 

"—just anyone in," said a pinch-faced woman. "And now listen to what they're saying. Vampires, running wild in the sewers. Tieflings taking over the Lower City! One controls the entire wizard's tower. How can we trust them? The first time a fiend so much as smiles at them, they'll run us through with those horns."

Wyll, who could only wear shirts with very large collars, went still. So did his companion. Astarion, like a shark to blood—no, no, like a vampire to blood, sidled up to the conversation, grinning maniacally.

"The city's gone to shit," said a hatchet-faced man. 

"Certainly the sewers were already there," Astarion said.

"Worse now, with that spawn filth crawling out and demanding we listen to them. I swear, the petitioners line at the courthouse smelt purely of feces. No one cares about your solar allergy and liquid diet. Szarr is dead. What more do they want?"

"Food," Minthara said. "There is a basic hierarchy of needs. Spawn are not immune to it. You might utilize it."

"Fine. They can bother the living after they've proven themselves useful and handled the rats."

Her arm jerked out to the side, luckily, because she caught Astarion right as he took a step forward.

Quickly, Wyll said, "They're victims. They and the tieflings. Don't you have any compassion?"

The pinched woman said, "It's not the burdens we bear, but how loudly we choose to bear them."

"I remember earlier this year, when merchant-master Grinhold came before the council asking for a grant because the almond harvest was poor," Wyll said. Her cousin, if he wasn't mistaken.

"He was advised last year to diversify," Wyll's companion said. "Druid's have been warning of a drought for months."

"That has nothing to do with this topic," snapped the woman.

"I thought we were speaking of burdens we bear and how we ought to be quiet about it," Wyll said. Gods, Astarion had clearly possessed his tongue.

"Some of us have been mighty quiet about it," said the sharp man, giving Wyll a look.

This was everything Wyll had hated about living in the city. Why had he poked these vultures?

"If you're speaking of my—our heroics against the Absolute—"

"Oh, please," snapped the pinched woman. "I've seen a brain before. It's not intimidating, not even giant. And a handful of backwater cultist? Any idiot taken in by that couldn't be a threat."

Wyll was so aghast at her flippancy his words stuck in his throat.

"The only reason the damage was so bad was that no one did anything until it actually summoned mind flayers," scoffed the sharp man. He gave Will a look that made it clear exactly who he was speaking about. 

"And what did you do?" snapped Minthara.

"I was vacationing by the seaside, if you must know. If I had been here—"

"I was vacationing by the seaside as well," Wyll said. "I came here."

The atmosphere felt heavy. Dangerous. They were speaking about honor, now, and history, and other foolish abstracts patriars loved to duel over. Loved to start wars over.

"Do not hold yourself in such high esteem," sneered the pinched woman. "You may be the son of a Duke, but my cousin—Lamora Whimpledimple—has told me about you."

"Oh? Interesting. She came to dinner last week." Wyll smiled warmly. He really did like Lamora. A funny woman who smoked like a damp fire and cackled like a hot one. "Lamora always has the most interesting stories about the most interesting people. Interesting, too, how she never mentioned you."

Astarion's eyes went wide, mouth twisting into a nasty grin. Minthara gave a single curt nod. The music swelled.

"You dare—" choked the pinched woman, before her companion pulled her back.

"Another dance?" Minthara asked Wyll, twisting her wrist. Tucked against her leg she held an open blade, a sickly green sheen on the metal.

"A dance?" he said, giving the smallest shake of his hand in regards to the blade.

With a flick of her wrist it disappeared under the cuff on her arm. "A dance," she repeated, holding out a hand.

Finally, an escape.

"Minthara, you do not need to dance with me," he said as they stepped away.

"I know. That is why I am not."

Then he was back on the floor, away from the conversation, sinking into the music. This dance was dizzying, his partners' palms pressing against his, now too much, too warm and too loud. Everyone wanted to touch him. His palms were wet with sweat, and he tainted the entire floor until he escaped to a balcony, swallowing hard, his collar threatening to choke him.

"I didn't know you had any skill with courtly intrigue," Astarion said, appearing next to him. "You always seemed so… pleasant. I must say, watching you cut with that sharp wit was a delight."

"I am good at many kinds of dances. I hate it," Wyll said. "The words are said and I cannot take them back. Everyone will remember this."

"Remember not to insult you."

"Remember that I would stoop to petty insults. I'm not that kind of person!"

For a moment, everything went quiet, then Astarion's cool, light hand alighted on his shoulder. "Defending yourself isn't being cruel."

"I didn't defend myself. I attacked both of them!"

"Some people will never stop until you show them you are not afraid to hurt them. Cheer up, Wyll. It could have been worse."

"How? Lamora Whimpledimple will hear of this."

"Yes, the woman hiring me to handle her little cockatrice problem. She will hear that you had a verbal spar with her cousin that she doesn't like and think, 'That lovely man who killed that spotted frilled cockatrice? He would never!' and continue hating her cousin. No, worse would be Lamora Whimpledimple getting news that her cousin died in a tragic accident, twitching ungainly on the dancefloor as Drow poison taught some respect."

"Good point. Oh, no, where is Minthara?"

"Stabbing the napkin stacks. She has a theory that she can get her blade all the way to the bottom in one go. Some seamsmith is about to make bank."

Well, it wasn't even midnight. Wyll was in his fanciest dress, he'd made his way around the dance floor half a dozen times, and finally given Lamora Whimpledimple's nasty cousin a piece of his mind. There was only one thing that could make this night better.

Wyll bowed when he approached Minthara and said, "Care to join us?"

"For what?"

"I fancy a final waltz. With a cockatrice."

"Good. No party was ever made worse by introducing blood."

Astarion grinned, flashing fang with abandon as he followed the two of them into the streets and out of town. Under the moonlight, to an orchestra of crickets, ducking under clawed wings, pivoting around the talons of a beast and weaving between two partners, Wyll got one final dance.

And Lamora Whimpledimple, when she came for dinner at the end of that week, didn't mention her cousin at all.

[the-mic-drop]

Zelink gets Isekaied into BG3 Pt9: Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

Zelda- High Elf Draconic Lineage Sorcerer

Link- Half Wood Elf Champion Fighter

So far: With the Goblin leaders defeated and the Ogres running roughshod over the camp, the party warps back to the Emerald Grove.

The party returns to the Emerald Grove and refuses the payment from Zevlor (much to Astarion's chagrin) and agrees to host a party at their camp after they meet with Halsin.

Zelink, Wyll, and Gale go to check in with the Druids while the rest of the crew either help the Tieflings pack or prepare the camp for the party.

They walk in on Halsin reading Kahga the riot act. Halsin pledges to discuss their next steps after the party that evening. After Zelda collects their reward, it's party time!

Link and Zelda dance together to Alfira's music.

Lae'zel gives Link her "how I long to taste you" spiel, but admits Zelda is a better match for him, despite her comparative weakness. Link might have taken issue with her calling Zelda weak, but he's reeling from the most intense flirtation he received since the Great Fairies.

Link goes to ask Halsin some fairy-related questions.

Zelda takes a moment to talk to Gale and asks him why he's buried himself in books and notes instead of enjoying himself. He's too fascinated by the Triforce power Zelda exhibited earlier that day.

"My options are to either research this, or talk somebody's ear off about this until they beat me senseless. I'm saving myself a concussion and my prospective assailant a hairline fracture."

Gale tells her how her Golden Power is like a Weave unto itself. Like the Shadow Weave, but concentrated and... light. He'd been intimate with the goddess of magic, but feeling the power Zelda, a pretty tame avatar of a different goddess, was... different. It's giving him... blasphemous thoughts.

After a brief misunderstanding, Gale tells Zelda how incredibly proud of her he his and how blessed he is to have her with him on this journey. They share a hug and Gale joins Zelda's Hall of Dads.

Link finds Wyll at the riverbank lamenting his new, demonic form and his kidnapped father. Link sympathizes, noting how he had his memories, his home, his future, and his arm taken from him at one time or another by the Calamity and/or Ganondorf. The Blade of Frontiers and Hero of the Wild share a silent moment of melancholy over the strife of the path of the hero. Though they find some comfort in how they do not travel it alone.

The next morning, Halsin explains Moonrise Towers, the Shadow Curse (kind of,) and the potential routes to get there. He also pledges to travel with the group to Moonrise.

After some discussion, the group decides to start by going through the Mountain Pass, mostly since the Creche is most likely in that direction.

[sky-kiss]

Okay, your OC is a love interest, what does their first romance cutscene look like?

A/N: Sassy, this is such an amazing question. I hope it’s alright that I did it for my three main idiots (I have another, but he’s just an old man for Jaheira lol). 

Scrungus: (Cowboy lizard)

Being an Oath of Redemption paladin, Scrungus isn’t overly romantic. He’s very kind, but he’s more focused on the wellbeing of the group. The incident with the goblins leaves him a little down, so he’s melancholy post party. The PC has to seek him out. He gives you a little smile, tips his head. If you offer him wine, he politely declines. 

“Had to be done. Couldn’t have ‘em running along the coast, know that. Still…ain’t sitting right. Coulda done more. Shoulda, I reckon.” 

If you mention you would have liked to dance at the party: “Would have been good to see…ain’t much point killin’ if you’re not enjoy living.” 

If you ask him if he knows how to dance, or would have danced with you, he gives you a little grin. Yeah, he picked it up somewhere along the line. In a little village, years back, after a fight just like this. Used to be pretty good. But don’t hold him to it. He’d hate to step on your toes. 

If you point out that the goblins and the Absolute left you no choice: 

He agrees, but finds it unfortunate. Worse folks have turned their back on evil. 

If you go to hold his hand, he chuckles and moves it away. 

No offense meant, but he’s got one responsibility. Gotta see you through the city. No use muddling things. 

You spend the night talking about your past, his, maybe he tells you a story about some absurd devil or demon he talked round to redemption. It’s ridiculous. He lets the PC lean against his shoulder and doesn’t move them when they doze off against his chest. 

Evoi: (Evil, evil, evil AU!Joi; it’s early, and she’s…untempered) 

Goblin-party only. She’s turned on by the stink of carnage and the way you looked while slaughtering the Grove. She makes this very evident, very early into the party, sidling up to the PC, nosing their throat. 

Blood-slick, hunter-kin—soak in carnage, baptize her in your sweet cries. 

She’s going to fuck you. Consent is optional, sorry. Will lick every drop of blood off your character. It’s a lot of kissing and biting. Going to absolutely devour/go down on the PC. You’re her pet now (and she’s obsessive, crazy, generally the worst). 

Joi: (Amnesia Girl)

Joi still has no idea what’s going on or who she is at this point. The scene will have more variance compared to the above, based largely on player input. Most of  her reactions are going to be emulating the PC’s drive. I.e if you’re interested in talking, she’ll be softer and happily talk, but consistently direct the conversation away from her. If the PC is more forward and wants sex, she’ll fall back into that role. 

Is likely very similar to Astarion in that she’s unsure she wants to have sex at that point, but it feels natural, normal, and a way to like…establish rapport. And since she has nothing personal to offer, why not sex? It’s the best she can do. 

If the PC opts to take things more slowly, she’s comforted. Wants to hold the PC’s hand or sit in their lap/beside them. She’s naturally very physical, and the slow!route still reflects that. If the PC asks whether she enjoyed the party, Joi is puzzled and admits that she doesn’t know. Saving the tieflings felt strange, almost wrong, but she likes it. 

Platonic/Slowburn route: Joi asks your PC to tell her about their life, stroking their hair. She thanks the PC for sharing and kisses them. 

Sex route: Joi is enthusiastic, but distant. Leads the encounter, focused on pleasuring PC. The morning after, she is more conflicted and admits she did not sleep well.

[randomfanner]

Wyll + the Bitchest Bitch to ever Bitch out of the Bitch Plane of Existence SFW Headcanons

So I kept thinking Wyll was crashing my game whenever I talked to him after I rejected him at his dance cutscene. Turns out I just needed to power click x until whatever cutscene was supposed to play was skipped. Now I have Wyll back!

I probably would have done this sooner had it not been for that. He is the Sweetest Prince Charming

Also fuck Mizora. I hate Mizora. I really wish she would get the fuck out of my camp.

Wyll really likes to spar and just practice with wooden rapiers. No stakes, no life or death, just dueling with someone who he is closed to. He loves to teach the kids because it reminds him of that and when they are a bit older then the tiefling children were, he does like to duel the same way.

When he does spar with kids under less horrible circumstances he will play the roll of a big bad villain rather then the Mighty Blade of Frontiers. Of course let them skewer him in the end. Letting them learn and get the feeling of victory.

It feels like passing down lessons the way his father did to him. Wyll truly misses his father and spending time with him more than anything in the world.

If you offered to spar with him he would jump to his feet and he is so excited. He has an extra bit of showmanship, playing the role of a villain who wishes to steal a kiss. He may beat you, just so he may plunder his nefarious rewards.... if he may.

He likes to buy things for the party. His love language is gift and he gifts a lot when you all get back to Baldur's Gate. The shopping trip with Karlach and Astarion happens with Wyll and you if it happens because Wyll wants to buy everyone stuff.

It's a shame the money is pooled/managed by you but please let him take the lead it will make him so happy for this. When he does get money that is solely his he does spend it on everyone else(and fancy wines for himself but shush)

When things have fully calmed down, things have started to be rebuilt and Wyll is allowed to ask for a favor from his father. That favor being gold so he can treat you like the prince(ss) you are.

He will buy you anything you ask. Literally anything. He may also buy something nice for himself.

Before he could buy you things, he liked to bring you small trinkets and flowers he found. He would also buy some of the wines from the kids at Last Light to both encourage their business skills(especially with Rolan being an asshole) and to share with you for later.

He really likes to share his wine with you. It is one of his favorite things to bond with you once you get closer.

Wyll would love to carry you bridal style but unfortunately for our 8 strength friend that is not a realistic possibility on it's own. However Wyll is no strange to using extra forces to cover blind spots, and so he will drink a potion of giant strength to be able to whisk you away.

Now well Wyll is the sweetest man in the world he sometimes does have to deal with the fact he is a devil now. Well he himself has not changes, he may have some new habits he isn't expecting.

it is never anything bad of course. He gets things like wanting to rub his scent on you much like a cat, brushing his nose into your shoulder and giving you a small kiss. Bringing you a fresh blood, cute things he wouldn't have done before.

Also some slightly more territorial things than he would ever do normally... such as pulling you just a tiny bit closer to him. He doesn't even realize he doing it because he isn't a super jealous guy.

Oh he may also have other side effects of being a devil but that is for the NSFW headcanons.

Mizora constantly loves to try and give Wyll horrible, horrible relationship advice. When she is bothering you at camp she will just go to Wyll and tell him he should do things that count as devil courting rituals but to most humans are just attempts at murder.

Wyll of course ignores her and tries to get her to leave him alone, doesn't happen of course it is fucking Mizora. Out of spite he starts going over to court you in the most gentlemanly way possible, not listening to her advice at all.

Mizora also tries to give you unsolicited on what Wyll likes... and of course tries to sew any doubts she can about your relationship. Of course it is best to ignore her and if you can, give Wyll all the positive attention you can.

Mizora will also pop in or have some fiendish force pop up just fuck with any date Wyll may take you on. Perhaps a waiter spills soup in your lap because something tripped him, or maybe the waitress gets a bit bold and flirts with Wyll.

Mizora makes herself such a nuisance at every chance she gets.

[threshasketch]

I'm curious to know about Tito! What's he all about?

Hey, thanks for the ask! Tito is my longest-running player character in Dungeons & Dragons. ��� He's a red Tiefling cleric of the nature domain, worships Pan (god of wine, mountains, goats and hedonistic parties), is the tallest member of the party (6'5"), started out as an orphaned street urchin with only a white mouse for a friend (Egg the mouse, who has bizarrely long life, still accompanies him...), and gloms onto the party members as a found family fast. Oh, and he's got 3 levels in the bard class, too.

This guy has such high charisma that he can talk his way through some ridiculous scenarios. One of his favorite ongoing jokes is to convince people they can't see straight, asking "How drunk are you? Next thing you'll be telling me I'm a Tiefling!"

Tito loves nature and wine and dancing. He's worn flower crowns during the campaign multiple times. He almost always has wine on him, and considers wine, dancing, and sex as forms of worship to Pan. He's the party member who talks a lot, and tends to want to know the names of all of the NPCs (and remembers 'em later!)

Tito is also pansexual (see what I did there?), and on his adventures he's met and fallen heads over heels in love with a gothic Drow bard named Som. You'd think it was an opposites attract situation based on appearances, but Som is actually very cheerful, just about subjects like death and murder-laced poetry. Also actual lace.

I've been playing Tito for over three years, and he's been so much fun. I aim to have him propose to Som before they go off to their final battle of the campaign against an invading army of demons from another plane. "I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, even if that's just 'til tomorrow when we go to our deaths side by side" sounds like the kind of sentiment Som might appreciate. ♥

Here's some art of Tito (and Som.)

(From that time he was changed into a human briefly. He takes after his mother then, instead of his Tiefling father.)

(Visit the Gnome party member, only have Gnome-sized chairs to sit on...)

(That time Tito got flung off the airship into the swamp where everything is giant, befriended a giant bee using Speak With Animals, and made all the giant flowers glow at night so the party could find him.)

[flowtatoes]

A Special Kind of Weird; chapter one (cross posted on AO3)

Jester Lavorre is a Traveler fan.

Okay, maybe a lot of folks are fans of The Traveler, but none are as enthusiastic about them as Jessie. She’s read his books since she was old enough to vaguely understand the concept of romance — back when her mother would read her children’s stories, and the little tiefling would steal her books off her bookshelf in the dead of night.

She’s just… a big fan. Yeah. Big fan.

So why is The Traveler making college so fucking difficult?

It’s the first week of September; college is on the horizon, with students just getting into their dorms, meeting their roommates, the likes. It’s a time that, as a child, Jester looked forward to — and now, as she sets a box on one of the three beds in her cramped dorm, butterflies dance around in her stomach. Her roommates have barely arrived too, which she’s thankful for — it gives her a last few minutes with her mom, the Ruby of Nicodranas — famous singer and performer, who Jester wishes she could be like.

She tears into the box as soon as Marion leaves for another… in it are posters of The Traveler’s main character, Garmelie, a satyr who goes on… well, to Jester they’re romantic escapades… to others, they’re sexual flings that would normally result in a bunch of STDs. The poster she first gets out is signed by The Traveler himself — one she was lucky to get in a giveaway online, even though she’s never met the man. The second one has Garmelie and a unicorn — unicorns are Jester’s favorite animal — and the third and forth share The Traveler’s cloaked portrait, with his right index finger up to his lips, as though he’s telling the photographer a deep, dark secret that’s not for anyone’s ears but theirs.

Oh, how romantic…

“Sapphire, did you pack your toothbrush?” Jester instinctively shoves the forth poster back into the box as the Ruby comes back, holding a stack of boxes labeled ‘Jessie’s clothes’ and ‘fun thingies’. She sets them down beside her daughter’s bed before going to give her a tight hug. “I can’t believe it… my baby is a college student. It’ll be so lonely without you, little one.”

“Aww, Mama! I’ll email you like, every single day,” the blue tiefling says through the squished hug. She squeezes her mother back, only to feel sad when Marion backs up after a few solid minutes of hugging. She sits down on the bed, staring up at Jester, who’s… trying hard to be brave. For her mama. For school.

For The Traveler.

“Do you know when your roommates are coming?” Marion takes a look around the small dorm; there’s a small desk to the left, and a bathroom that the three girls will have to share — the three beds are bare, just boxes atop them, no bedsheets or pillows to make it look homey. It almost makes the blue girl want to dig out her paints (that she brought, of course) and paint everything a nice pink or blue… maybe yellow? “I’m sure they’ll be… more friendly than the kids at school.”

More friendly could mean anything for any kid. For Jester, it means ‘kids who don’t pick on me for writing nasty fanfiction instead of going to beer pong parties’.

Yeah… her old friends are a relic of the past.

The girl takes one of her posters and heads to the corkboard above her bed, where she starts to pin it up with pink starry push-pins. “Ah! Oh my, doesn’t he look just so cute ?” I’ll avoid Mama’s statement if I can, she thinks. “Mama, do you think you can convince Bluud to invite The Traveler to the Chateau during the winter break?”

Her mother doesn’t suppress her giggle. “I’ll ask him, little Joy.”

Just as the pair are about to banter on, the dorm door bursts open with a ca-thud . Two girls struggle to go in, each saying “after you”; one looks like a sad poet, and the other looks like she could bench press Jester like she were a sack of flour.

The ‘poet’ is the first to enter. A white haired girl, she’s wearing an Orphanmaker shirt and ripped leggings; she has only a small bag with her, and a pillow under her arm. The other girl, who Jester feels both intimidated by and also… very interested in, has dark brown hair, brown skin, and striking blue eyes; she’s in gym clothes and has three duffel bags in her arms. A little boy no older than three is running after her, yelling, “Beau! Beau! Beau, you’re gonna miss me?”

“Yeah, you shithead, I’ll miss you.” The girl, Beau, says to the toddler as she throws her bags on the bed closest to the bathroom. The toddler simply giggles. “Don’t tell Mom that I swore and I’ll get you a… fuck, what are kids into? — a toy or something, when I get home. Yeah?”

“Okay!” The boy screeches and runs back out of the room, most likely to whichever adult was helping Beau take things in. She swings herself onto the foot of the bed, narrowly missing the bed frame’s wrath.

Beau looks at Jester with peak curiosity. “You one of the new roomies?”

“Yeah…” Jester’s voice goes quiet; she looks over at her mother, who’s helping unpack her clothing and putting it in the trunk at the end of the bed. She takes in a forced breath before turning back to Beau with a plastered-on smile. “I’m Jester! You’re—”

“Beau. Just… just Beau,” the other girl says with a smirk on her face. She looks like she could pick Jester apart just by words alone, and yet— “Oh, you a… a raunchy book fan?” She points to the poster. “Not gonna lie, I’ve only seen the movies, but they’re better than Fifty Shades, really.”

Thank gods… Jester’s forced smile turns more genuine at the thought of someone knowing her passion — and oh, how this series is a passion! She takes a seat at the desk nearby, looking at the ‘poet’. “And you are…”

“Oh…” the girl with the white hair is hanging stringed lights from her cork board and bed frame as she pauses to speak. She’s a good six feet tall, if possible. Jester has to really look up to meet her eyes — colorful ones, too. “Yasha… you’re pretty uh, colorful?”

“Thank you, Yasha!” The tiefling looks down at her own clothes (a pink skirt, pastel, of course, and rainbow Converse — a custom made one she bought recently with money from the café she part-timed at) with a wide, toothy grin. “You look kinda… are you into poetry?”

Yasha stops hanging the lights, holding the strings in her hands for a solid minute… before nodding. “I like… poems. My sibling and I write together, though he prefers, ah, songwriting… he’s also a tiefling, if that means much to you..?”

Tiefling? Another one? “Is he here, too?” Jester inquires, with an ounce of hope in her voice.

Yasha nods, not looking away from the stringed lights. “Yeah… his name’s Molly… er, Molly mauk , but everyone calls him Molly, really. He’s weird, but he’s… you know, a good kind of weird. Like—”

“Like me!” Jester says enthusiastically. The white haired girl chuckles as the blue girl gets up and spins in the tight quarters. Marion beams.

“Sapphire, I better get going.” The mother stands from her daughter’s bed; she’s tall, too, but nowhere near as tall as Yasha. She takes Jester into a tight hug, kissing her forehead, before leaving the room, trying (and failing) not to look sad.

Jester isn’t used to being away from her.

“Man, did she look like she was gonna cry or what?” Beau blows a bubble of pink gum and pops it. “Jess, you’ll be fine. There’s like, no need to cry.”

Am I crying? The tiefling touches her cheeks; her fingers come back damp, and she’s quick to wipe her tears off on her sweater. With a sniffle, then an eye rub, she heads back to her side of the room, grabs another poster, and starts to hang it up…

xxx

“Ja, I-I know, I know, Essek —” click .

Caleb Widogast sucks at relationships. Period. He was in a relationship of three, maybe four years that blew to smithereens by the time he graduated high school… then there was his summer boyfriend Essek, who didn’t seem too awfully thrilled about a long distance relationship with the human boy.

The human throws his phone down on his barely-made bed as his roommates snicker. “Shut up,” Caleb mutters; Mollymauk chucks a pillow at his head, just narrowly missing him. “Molly!”

“Look, I’m sorry Mister ‘I bring three fucking toothbrushes with me to a sleepover’ is mad, but you’re too damn adorable for him.” Molly is a short genderfluid tiefling with spiky black hair that falls to his shoulders, and has a habit of wearing funky outfits to ‘find myself a partner’ (his words, not Caleb’s). His other roommates are a half orc boat lover named Fjord, and a giant firbolg known simply as Caduceus, who’s not really studying anything, but he runs the library at school for tuition. “You shouldn’t waste your time with him! Find yourself a new man — or woman, whatever your little Zemnian heart desires.”

“Please… stop.” Caleb feels his face grow red just in time for Molly to ‘ooooh’ about it; thankfully Fjord elbows the purple circus man in the neck, making him shut up. “I didn’t… think he’d break up over the phone.”

“As opposed to in person?” Caduceus isn’t very versed in romance; he’s more of a ‘watch and learn’ type, whether that be from his years as a ‘homeschooled’ kid or just… general ‘Deuces vibes. “At least it wasn’t in front of your family.”

Ah… family.

How did he tell them about his fucked up family? Maybe he would ignore it; maybe he’d pray that his ‘dad’ wouldn’t show up for band practice or fun days. Maybe…

“Well, it’s over, which is good, ain’t it?” Fjord asks. The half orc is quite short for, well, one of his kind, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to sound big. In all fairness, no man is as tall as Caduceus, so Fjord has little to fear.

The human groans into the palm of his hand. “It’s… I actually liked Essek, though,” he mumbles; prays nobody picks up on what he said. “He was… fascinating. Breathtaking, even. It’s… I don’t know—”

“Can’t you just, like, bone someone and call it a night?” Molly flops onto Caleb’s bed, sprawling his body out like a cat.

Caleb’s cheeks burn red. “I— listen, circus man , it’s frankly none of your business, ja ? Yeah.” He tosses a small box on his bed before deciding, albeit last minute, to open it.

Inside, amongst pictures of Essek, is his favorite book by his favourite author — a known Traveler, who a girl in another hall idolizes…

Here’s hoping Caleb isn’t the only Traveler fan in freshman year…

[w1tchsoup]

Alright, I did it. The post-game angst I keep referencing and then not posting? I'm posting it. @theranciddwarf will find this song and dance a familiar one with other variations of Hoshi. @piipaw @kharonion I've blabbed about this a couple of times, and here's the full context.

No way in hell am I writing a fic about this. It'd just make me sad. I'll just yell instead. Edit: Now that I'm done writing this, I really should have written a one-shot. By the time I realized I was practically writing one anyway, it was too late. The sunken cost falicy kicked in.

Hoshi's relationship with Gale is a perfect example of how love on its own is not always enough. I think after the better part of a decade that I've written about variations of him ending up in partnerships where things clicked into place with ease, it's time that he has a change of pace. Can they compromise on their opposing livestyles in a healthy way?

Had they not freshly avoided death after saving Faerun, Hoshi would have told Gale that they should wait to get married. He didn't regret his decision when they came down from the high, however. There's no better excuse to plant his roots somewhere and grow than doing so with the person he loves. He thought he knew what he was getting into.

Gale did not. You see, Gale was very Gale about the arrangement. He thought they would go home and things would go back to his "normal" of getting lost in his work, all while he gave Hoshi the life he believed the monk deserved! Everyone was going to adore him! How could they not!? Gale was never one to manage his expectations; he lived a life of most things going his way, doing little to combat this. To his credit, Hoshi only needed to give him a little nudge and Gale would float back down to the ground with him.

No nudges were given. Hoshi's brain had been wired by his adulthood, wandering from place to place for fear of who he is catching up to those kind enough to accommodate him. It would take time for him to adjust to taking up space in what is now his home. In his head, Gale and Tara were making room in their home for him and, out of habit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When would his novelty wear off? He is 'competing' with the relative solitude Gale holds dear, his freedom afforded to him by his last lover not sharing his living quarters.

All that to say, Hoshi didn't even think about asking Gale to make compromises when it came to their new life together. He assumes that his discomforts were what came with stationary living. The problems that stem from this weren't constantly on the forefront of his mind; Gale took initiative on his own to make sure he split his time between his spouse and his work. The unrelated issues they have, he spoke to Gale about because Hoshi's emotional intelligence was one of the things he's known for.

The adventuring party's monarch of communication forgot to stare into the mirror etc etc

Gale was not (without real effort) a mind-reader any longer. He also had blind spots in his social skills that require having things pointed out to him to have them click.

Quite by accident, he started to unravel that things weren't going as perfectly as he'd hoped. It's a beautiful day out, Hoshi's sporting a dress he'd just finished sewing the evening before, so he figured it was a sign he should step out of the tower, go with Hoshi to market. At some point, he overheared an interaction between a vendor and Hoshi that strikes him as odd. Something about the phrasing. He brings it up later and verbally tries working out what the vendor could have meant. Hoshi then had to explain that it was a cheerfully delivered microaggression because he's a tiefling.

This rattles Gale. It brings to mind a number of interactions he'd been there for that now make complete sense in this context. What about when he hasn't been there? Was it worse then? Why hadn't Hoshi told him this was happening?  And Hoshi would tell him that it often happens anywhere tieflings go, no matter who they are. Getting angry only makes things worse. Some places were better than others, but he was not exactly in a position to get up and leave whenever he wished. That's ok. Good, even. Overall, this way of life was better for him in the long run and for both their sake, he'd learn to adapt.

That did not satisfy Gale in the least. He did noy push the matter at the time, but he was putting puzzle pieces together about what Hoshi compromised to be there with him. His livelihood, promiscuity, the thrill of roaming free for his entire adult life, the code-switching that's done around certain company that Gale is now painfully aware of, and, really, the vast majority of his academic pursuits.

It's a bad habit Hoshi thought he'd kicked already, calling the tower Gale's home rather than their home. He hadn't noticed it had slipped out until he saw the defeat on Gale's face and what had been a casual chat about furniture became a long-overdue heart-to-heart.

Gale pleaded with him to tell him that he didn't clip Hoshi's wings by bringing him to Waterdeep. The voice that used to fill entire camps has wilted over his stay there into what Gale can only assume Hoshi believes is a 'respectable' volume. His saunter had stiffened as if he had a crossbow to his back whenever they left the tower. He's watching his spouse curl in on himself, and when he can't even acknowledge that he lives there, Gale can't help but dread that Hoshi is going to leave him. What can he do? All Hoshi had to do was ask, and Gale would give him anything he wanted. That's all he's ever wanted for his spouse—a life where he'd want for nothing.

Hoshi is quick to point out that was not as if Gale brought him by force. He made the decision himself after agreeing to marry him, and his actions are not Gale's responsibility. None of these things Gale's worried about are due to anything he did. He admitted that he was struggling, but that his uncharacteristic behavior wasn't an indication that he's going to flee in the middle of the night.

His problem was that he had no idea how to live his life long-term. He spent the last three decades unwittingly waiting for it to end, so many of his strategies revolved around self-sabotage. The bad news was that this self-sabotage continued to be perpetuated through his attempts to save what he could of Gale's reputation. Hoshi knew how social circles in places like Waterdeep worked. They were talking filth about Gale behind his back for marrying a tiefling, without question. Lessons on how to mask around the upper crust of tailess societies had been given on the regular in his youth for these sorts of scenarios. Gale was likely not thinking about it, but Hoshi was and had made it his responsibility to save face. He didn't want Gale to grow resentful of him if their union meant he lost opportunities because of the pettiness of bigots.

The good news was that those were moves made out of planning for the future. It was a face plant in the right direction. He knew this was a struggle to grasp for some sort of control when he felt completely out of his element—out of his element being having a home with someone who loves him for the right reasons. Gale's had never been anything but supportive.

Gale could stress enough how much he did not want whatever opportunities were available to him at the cost of Hoshi being miserable. Anyone who would speak ill of Hoshi for being who he was had shown a severe lack of judgment he didn't want any part of. Whoever that tiefling was that they'd find passable, Gale does not want him either. He wanted the tiefling who possessed the humility he so much admired, taking up room with grace in every sense of the word. When they walked out that door next, he wanted to be arm in arm, Hoshi's tail no longer worn like a belt, that light-hearted tranquility on display. That hint of mischief, meaningful glances, inside jokes—all that spice is sorely missed.

Ghostwalkers. Gale had discovered the term while delving into his research on monkhood on his endless quest to connect with his love. They were the things folktales were made of: a mysterious stranger arrives precisely on time to defend the innocent from a crisis, then vanishes. The fewer traces left of their presence, the better. Hoshi would add more flare to the occupation than that, but the point still stood. This was the routine that Hoshi knew. Gale now understood. Because Hoshi was determined to stay, the closest thing he had as an alternative was making himself invisible.

Hoshi hadn't thought about it like that. His goal was to stay out of Gale's way. It was a compulsion that Gale didn't have a hand in, he assures him. It was a him problem. This is happening because he can't run from himself any longer. That's good. Things will be different, but they'll be good.

Yes! Excellent! Only it isn't solely a 'him problem!' This is between another person as well! It's harming them both! Gale has to remind Hoshi of a story of a man who went and did things on his partner's behalf, believing he was doing her a favor when she never would have asked him to do those things in the first place. Hoshi's not going to end up with a bomb in his chest or a separation, but they can't continue like this. The mistake of origin was making Hoshi settle down as abruptly as they did. It something they should have eased into. They should plan a trip as soon as possible.

Hoshi did not like this idea. Alright, no, he loved the idea. That was not the point. Gale couldn't just drop everything to go with him on a trip. That wasn't fair to him or anyone who depends on him.

Gale pointed out that the same could be said of Hoshi's position.

That did not mean there wasn't other solutions, in Hoshi's opinion. He could use a contact of his, see if he couldn't locate one of their friends to lend them a hand, no Gale disruptions needed. He could take more trips to Baldur's Gate from the recovery effort since his current was clearly not enough. If he recalls, all Gale wanted to do while out on the road was go back home. It would only bring Hoshi guilt knowing he got in the way of his nights by the fire. Tara would be so cross with them both.

That brought to mind another story for Gale, of the adeventurer and the wizard in the underdark whose tower had become a monument to his grief. He knew Hoshi remembered it all too well. He did not want that for them. There's a happy medium that can be found and they will find it.

Only Hoshi wasn't interested in Gale going if it was out of fear or a sense of obligation. That would totally negate the entire point of this plan of his.

What was one of the things that brought them together in the first place? It was the pursuit of knowledge. What method of learning together was mutually successful for the both of them? Getting their hands dirty going out to find the knowledge on their own! Gale was willing to see how five days of travel sat with him when they're not in mortal danger throughout. It's not as if sleeping in their tent would be an issue any longer. Stepping inside would be like entering a cozy cottage.

...Hoshi slipped in that it would help him in his writing. That settled it. Gale would go through to proper channels to let Blackstaff know that he was having a family emergency, which is what this was! He'll hear none of it from anyone who thinks otherwise, Hoshi included. When they return, they could begin discussion on collaberating on freshing up the tower, transformer it into their tower.

And so, periodically Hoshi would come to him with expedition ideas—small things like venturing to monasteries that are open to the public. There are a number known for their libraries. Try as they might, they could rarely help ending up sidetracked on their way to their destination.

As they both valued their automy, Hoshi dose eventually convince Gale that his venturing out to make his own trouble here and there would be in their best interest.

This had unintended side effects.

Never in all his years did Hoshi expect to experience true homesickness. He'd savor that ache. It's one thing to have someone somewhere eagerly awaiting ones return and another to /know it/ in ones heart. Devoting far more time to growing alongside his loved ones at home came easier then, especially with the knowledge there were more adventures to be had, should he so choose.

Gale, on the other hand, eventually became somewhat restless hearing of Hoshi's outings. Often, the monk would end up in a party or roping in one of their found family. He much preferred that Hoshi have company anyhow, in case one of their emergency measures of return failed. Endless writing material was to be had from the retelling of what his larkspur had been up to! Except... now that he'd been out there with his partner, these stories had a weight to them. They were living things rather than simply flat words he had the power to bring to life on paper in fiction. He could have been there himself, with him.

It came to a head when Elminster joined the ranks of companions. Hoshi had left alone and they had come back together. The damned thing was a construct and still it waltzed in with his spouse and ate the dinner he'd cooked for himself while Hoshi couldn't have sounded more delighted about their journey. He knew Elminster had done this on purpose. He didn't care. That was it. A valiant attempt to listen to Hoshi's infodumping was made, when at that point all he wanted was to ask if Hoshi could clear a spot in two months to take him out folk-heroing.

tl;dr: To be loved is to be changed. There's a beauty to be found in the act of coming home. The trick is, you know, both leaving and then going back.

It was super fun watching their roles swap. Instead of Hoshi keeping Gale grounded during a magical crisis, Gale has to lift Hoshi out of a mundane one.

[electricaquarius]

Duchess' 4am fanfiction spree hits once again, this time written at 3am. This one is the tiefling party, Joanna rejects Astarion and has a gossip session with Karlach, there's some Gale shipping, it's a fun time. There's scandalous content like kissing and hand holding! Fic is below the cut.

‘Let's wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we'll find each other.’

A blush quickly formed on Joanna's cheeks as she processed the fact that she had very much just been propositioned, pretty much out of nowhere. It was bizarre, Astarion had given no indication that he was interested in her, in that way or otherwise. ‘Oh! Oh, um…’ A nervous giggle escaped her lips. ‘Um, no. No thank you.’ She began to play with the hair at the bottom of her braid. ‘I'm… sorry? I'm not really the type to go for, ah, casual arrangements.’

Well, shit. There went that plan. He supposed it didn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things, he'd just have to secure his position within the group in another way. He was more than a little offended though. Astarion had done this song and dance a thousand times before, was he really that out of practice? ‘Hm, well I suppose I'll respect your decision to spend your evening with inferior company. Have a good evening, my dear.’

Joanna squeaked a goodbye and nearly sprinted over to Karlach, who looked a little panicked at her sudden arrival. ‘Soldier! Where's the fire? You look like you've had a right shock.’

‘Karlach, babes, you are not going to fucking believe what just happened.’ Joanna tried to keep her voice low but was unsure how much Astarion's elven ears could pick up. ‘Let's get out of here for a sec, I wanna talk to you privately.’

‘Ooh, hot gossip? I'm game!’ Karlach led the way to the bathing pond, the only place around camp still mostly safe but definitely unoccupied. She plopped herself down on the rock and crossed her legs, like a child awaiting a story. ‘Alright, tell me what happened with Fangs. Oh, I bet he said something just awful, didn't he? He can be such an arse!’

‘Honestly if he didn't spell it out I'd have no idea what he was asking me for.’ Joanna laughed, waving her hands excitedly. ‘He - and this is the gospel truth, I swear it - He just asked me to go to bed with him!’ Another peal of laughter from them both this time. 

‘What? Nooooo!’ Karlach held her hands in front of her mouth in exaggerated shock. ‘Don't get me wrong, sweet, but I'd never figure you for his type. What did he say, exactly?’

Joanna recited the line from earlier, doing her best impression of Astarion's swagger. ‘What bothered me most is it was so presumptive! I guess he's not used to rejection, eh?’ Karlach waggled her eyebrows at her.

‘That's no surprise, now. Still-’ A rustle from the bushes had Karlach holding one finger aloft, scanning the environment for the source. A wave of relief washed over her when Gale appeared, a leaf still clinging to his hair. He brushed it out and made his way over to them. 

‘Gale! Everything alright back there?’ Joanna smiled, hoping there wasn't yet another emergency back at camp when she'd just started enjoying herself. 

‘Everything's going swimmingly. Drinks are flowing, music is playing, everyone is having a good time. I'd noticed you two were missing and thought I'd better come check, that's all.’ Gale did have an ulterior motive for seeking them out but it was innocent enough, he decided.

‘Snoop.’ Karlach snorted, taking another swing from her bottle. ‘Jo was just telling me about her encounter with our resident vampire. I know you saw it, too.’

‘Stop, you're so bad!’ Joanna waved her away, very nearly but not quite brushing her skin. Karlach moved at the last second. ‘Alright, alright, I'll tell you. But I'm making you promise that this conversation doesn't leave our little group. Trust me, it'd be embarrassing for both me and him otherwise.’ Joanna extended her pinky finger towards Gale.

‘I must admit I'm intrigued. I saw you run off quite quickly after talking with him, don't tell me he did something to offend you?’ Gale linked his finger with hers, relishing the warmth of her contact for a moment. 

‘More like she offended him! Did you know, he asked her to‐’ Joanna cut Karlach off with a chorus of shushes. 

‘Look, it's my story, I'm going to tell it! So, he's whining on about how boring this party is and how he'd like more excitement. I ask him what he's talking about, which I think is a pretty reasonable question. He tells me he's talking about sex, acting like I'm completely stupid for not getting it. But then he starts telling me we should meet up after everyone is asleep? And I'm all, ‘I didn't agree to anything!’ And he's like…’ Joanna continued on, the wine loosening her tongue and making her babble. Gale thought it was quite endearing in a way, she was usually so intelligent and thoughtful so to see her letting loose for once made him smile. She deserved it, they all deserved it, just for one night.

Joanna was gesticulating wildly, deep into an imaginary argument with Astarion, when her hand caught Karlach's shoulder. ‘Ah! Shit, I'm so clumsy!’ She pulled her hand back quickly and examined it, noticing an angry red blotch spreading across it.

‘Oh fuck, are you alright? I should've kept my distance, I…’ Karlach sprang up, immediately putting space between herself and her two friends. She hated being reminded of her engine, just when she was starting to feel normal again. 

‘No, no, it's totally my fault. Karlach, love, please don't be upset. You don't need to go.’ Still, Karlach could tell Joanna was in a lot of pain, despite everything. She very carefully came closer and looked at the burn.

‘Shit, looks nasty. Oi, wiz, can you do anything about this?’ Karlach nodded towards Gale who had also leaped up and was examining the back of Joanna's hand. He knelt down and brought his hands towards hers, pausing for a moment.

‘May I?’ Joanna nodded, and he took her hand in his. He scanned the burn, putting together his rudimentary knowledge of medicine and trying not to focus on how nice it felt to be holding hands again. He'd thought about it endlessly since Joanna had conjured the vision for them together in the weave that one night. ‘It's only a mild burn, thankfully. We just need to cool down the affected area.’

‘So… can I help? You need me to go pick some mugwort or balsam or mergrass or something?’ Karlach's tail wagged behind her in short strokes like a metronome, clearly anxious. 

‘No, I should be able to handle this with a modified Ray of Frost. Thank you, though, all the same.’ His eyes flitted back to Joanna. ‘You need to tell me if the cold becomes unbearable, okay? What this should do is cool and numb the burn to stop it from doing any further damage.’

Joanna nodded, wondering idly if it was just her feeling quite so affected by how close they were right now. Any thoughts of comforting Karlach had flown out of her mind the minute he took her hand. He rolled his thumb over her knuckles that the burn had spread across and there was an immediate cooling sensation. 

A knowing smile spread across Karlach's face. Yes, she might have hurt a dear friend but in exchange for getting closer to her wizard, the sacrifice wasn't all that great. ‘Hey, Alfira's started playing again. I should go, I promised Shadowheart a dance.’

‘Bye…’ Joanna looked over her shoulder absently, watching Karlach leave. Content that she wasn't upset about their little accident, Joanna was all too happy for her to leave. She was hypnotized watching Gale work, mumbling to himself. The burn faded every time he swiped his thumb across it until it disappeared entirely. His work done, Gale lifted his eyes to Joanna's but didn't move an inch. Yes, maybe he was being exactly as presumptive as Astarion when he leaned in for a kiss but at that moment he didn't care. Their lips met and he felt Joanna gasp lightly against him.

Time slowed at that moment. Silently, Gale begged for her to reciprocate, to not push him away. When her hand came up to run through his hair he felt like he could finally breathe again. It was ridiculous, juvenile to be so taken with someone he hadn't known for any meaningful period of time but life since the tadpole had become so precarious that he truly didn't know if this would be his only chance. 

Joanna was the first to break away, pulling back and admiring him while she stroked his hair. ‘You look very handsome in the moonlight, you know.’ She whispered sweetly, sensing nothing but love in his eyes. 

‘I should think I look handsome in the daytime, too.’ He laughed. ‘I was hoping that I hadn't followed in the footsteps of our fanged friend, just now. I'm afraid that I find it quite difficult to control myself when I touch you. That, and I have to say, I felt the need to, well, stake my claim, somewhat. Trust me when I tell you that you're very… *popular* among our little group. I can't say I blame them, but, I suppose I'm just too selfish.’ Gale takes a deep breath, considering how to phrase what he wants to say next. He hadn't had time to rehearse and this is absolutely not how he'd typically go about winning over an object of his affections, but time is short. And the worst part was, he didn't know exactly how short. 

‘I want you.’ He continued, giving Joanna's hand a squeeze. ‘And I don't mean to imply you're some kind of trophy or a piece of meat but let me just say I'm not exactly short on competition. You might not believe that Astarion is interested in you but I've seen that look in his eyes. I know it far too well. And of course, you're not bound to me in any way just because I was ‘first’, but-’

Joanna leaned forward and kissed him once more, hoping to silence his worries. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?’ She smiled, stroking his cheek. ‘I love our friends dearly, but the way I feel about you is unique. Quite honestly, I'd like to show you exactly what I mean.’ She began to trail kisses from his mouth to his neck, working her way down to his chest when the orb began to glow brightly. 

Gale made a soft grunt of pain and gently pushed her away. ‘Believe me when I tell you I'd love to, but I cannot have too much excitement with the orb the way it is.’ He held her face between his hands. ‘I feel very, very strongly for you too but this is as far as we go tonight.’

Joanna sighed and settled against him, his arm settling at her waist. ‘Never mind. Let's just spend a moment here, together.’