astarioffsimpmain

[astarioffsimpmain]

[astarioffsimpmain]

ig credit: bluechords

[astarioffsimpmain]

Thank you for the reminder, OP.

I will also say, to remind myself and possibly others who struggle with this mindset, your writing does not have to be flowery, sophisticated, or borderline-Shakespearean to be good; to have meaning; to give life to its readers.

Writing styles exist, and whoever up and decided that "flowery" was the only one of importance probably had an insecurity kink and was trying to overcompensate. lmao

Flowery writing is BEAUTIFUL! I love it. But it's never been something I'm amazing at writing. Poetic? Sure, sometimes. But I'm a narrative writer, lots of logistics, and physical descriptors. And guess what? THAT'S A VALID STYLE TOO! I have friends who are even more pointed in their writing. Shorter sentences with bursts of bright emotions. They think their writing is shit just because a lot of tumblr writing society decided that that style of writing isn't "good enough". For what? Good enough for what??? For imaginary men kissing???

For fucks sake, please, y'all. Listen to yourselves. Literary fucking scholars understand the importance of different writing styles and they're being demonized in fandom spaces WHYYY again???

At some point "fanfic can be as good as professional writing" became "fanfic should be as good as professional writing" and that's caused major damage to fandom spaces.

[astarioffsimpmain]

[astarioffsimpmain]

THIS WOULD FIX ME FUCKING DAMN IT

Practiced.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Autumn Garden by Boris Groh

[astarioffsimpmain]

Which one was your favourite final fight Gale kiss and why is it the one where he runs up to Tav, desperately and fervently kissing them with his hands gently cupping the side of Tav's face.

[astarioffsimpmain]

YES. It's like the brain disconnects, and the body plugs in. 🤣

Does anyone else get really, devastatingly, off the charts feral and horny for Gale when they are burned out and exhausted?

Is this some kind of maladaptive coping mechanism or what 🤦🏻‍♀️

[astarioffsimpmain]

Good Lord 🥵🥵🥵

I think I forgot how to breathe for a second there.

[astarioffsimpmain]

[astarioffsimpmain]

Notable of course how in romance scenes Gale only ever seems confident at all when the Weave is involved, and becomes noticeably more insecure and self deprecating whenever something romantic is happening in, sorry I was about to call it "meatspace". The mortal plane or whatever.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Yes, I am once again screaming about this line because it is PERFECT.

🥹

“Maybe,” he continues after a beat, “it’s not about being unbreakable. Maybe it’s about what you choose to do after the cracks appear.”

— Gale of Waterdeep, The End of All Things

[astarioffsimpmain]

Wait for me, please

Inspired by this post of @thedailygale Rating: 12+ Chapters: 1/? WC: 1046 Pairing(s): Gale Dekarios (Baldur's Gate) x Original Female Character Summary: Gale is summoned by Mystra (act 3) but is gone longer than anticipated. As Gale turns, Tav notices something deeper in his expression than mere nerves. He isn’t just anxious, he’s afraid. Terrified to his core. His fingers fidget with their warding ring on his index finger, the subtle motion betraying his usual composure. His eyes drop to the ground, his voice strained as he says, almost to himself, “I... I’d better go.” It sounds more as an attempt to muster courage than a declaration of readiness. “We’ll be here when you get back,” Halsin says with quiet certainty, stepping forward to offer a hug. Gale accepts it gratefully, leaning into the druid’s solid presence. “Your support means more than I can express,” Gale murmurs, attempting a small, appreciative smile. But the confidence he tries to project falters, and his unease clings to him like a shadow. Their companions take turns embracing him, offering whispered encouragements and steady reassurances. Through it all, Gale never releases Tav’s hand. She can feel it growing colder, his grip tighter as the moments tick by, as if he’s anchoring himself to her. Halsin glances at Tav, silently asking for her lead. She nods, and with a small, knowing smile, Halsin ushers the others out.

“Wait,” Tav calls after them, tossing her coin purse in their direction. Astarion catches it midair, raising a pale brow in surprise. “Take the most expensive inn you can find and bring me something to eat if this takes longer than expected. We’ll find you when Gale gets back.” Her voice doesn’t waver, and she carefully chooses her words: when, not if. Astarion gives an exaggerated bow, his smirk a mask over the concern in his crimson eyes. “We shall feast like royalty and save you a plate, darling,” he says. “We’ll take care of you while you wait,” Jenevelle grins. Tav offers a weak smile in return. “I know you will.”

Once the others leave, Gale straightens, clearly attempting to compose himself. But his expression gives him away entirely, his worry etched in the lines of his face.

“All will be well,” Tav says firmly, taking his other hand in hers. She squeezes gently, trying to ground him. “You will be fine, my love.” “How can you be so certain?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. The deep fear in his eyes shatters her heart, each flicker of doubt and vulnerability carving into her soul. Yet, she steels herself, summoning every ounce of strength to keep her own fear buried deep within. He doesn’t need her worry; he needs her resolve. She leans closer, her tone softening as she says, “Because I love you. Not just because you’re brilliant in bed and kiss me so thoroughly my knees give out—” Gale’s cheeks flush faintly, and a weak smile breaks through his fear. A small win. “But because you are the most intelligent, determined man I know. If anyone can reason with a goddess, especially one whose orders you defied, it’s you.”

His response isn’t verbal. He pulls her into a fierce yet desperate embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if she’s the last tether to his resolve. When she encircles his back, she feels the tremor running through him, the depth of his fear manifesting in his shudder. “I am afraid,” he whispers into her shoulder.

“There is no need to be,” she says gently, her voice steady even as doubt churns within her. “She loved you once, Gale. I don’t believe she’s forgotten that.” The lie is smooth although she doesn’t believe it. She hopes he doesn’t notice the crack in her certainty as his gaze drifts to Mystra’s looming statue. “I will be here when you get back,” she promises again.

This time, Gale pulls away just enough to capture her lips in a kiss so deep, so desperate, it leaves her breathless. It is unlike any kiss they’ve shared before, holding within it the weight of every unsaid fear, every unspoken word. It isn’t just love that passes between them in this moment, it’s something far more profound. A raw and tender plea, and the quiet resignation of a goodbye they dare not name. There is love in this kiss, certainly, a love steadfast and all-encompassing. But it is more than that. It is a plea, a promise, and an apology wrapped into one aching moment. It carries the echoes of everything he does not dare to say aloud: I am terrified. I don’t want to leave you. If this is the last… let me hold you one more time. Tav feels her own resolve begin to crack beneath the intensity of it, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes but she forces them down. She tries to hold onto the warmth of his touch, the familiar rhythm of his breath.

When their lips part, the room feels quieter somehow, the air between them heavy with the weight of what neither will say aloud. Gale lingers for a heartbeat, his forehead resting against hers, as though drawing strength from the connection. His hands hover at her waist, unwilling to let go but knowing he must.

As he straightens, his posture shifts—his jaw tightens, his shoulders square, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself into the composure of a man preparing to face the unknown. But his eyes betray him. They are soft and full of vulnerability, a window to the fear he hides beneath his carefully constructed mask.

Her heart aches as she meets his gaze, her own fears mirrored back at her. She wants to tell him it’s going to be alright, to promise him that Mystra will be merciful, that he will return to her unharmed. But she knows he doesn’t need empty reassurances—he needs her belief.

Gale nods once, his lips twitching into a weak but genuine smile. As he steps away, the space between them feels impossibly vast. Tav clenches her fists, forcing herself not to reach out for him again. She watches as he walks toward the towering statue of Mystra, his figure framed by the soft, ethereal glow of her divine presence.

He turns around and says, “Wait for me, please.” His voice so soft it barely carries. As he disperses, his eyes betray the truth of his heart: Let me return at all.

[astarioffsimpmain]

@lovesdaya

[astarioffsimpmain]

I heard him say that last night and I literally had to pause for a couple minutes to breathe again.

Quite ready for you

[astarioffsimpmain]

Narrator: The others don't sleep well, flitting between dreams and nightmares. But not you. You always sleep deep. Maybe that's why you don't wake up, even when danger creeps very.. very close. Perhaps your luck has run out.

[astarioffsimpmain]