#Arctic gale

[knizuu]

SHIP JUMPSCARE!!! :D

[junocornkiwi]

"Hold your hair in deep devotion

How deep?

At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean

Now I wanna be yours"

[eebie]

twitter is scary because posting about how you mildly dislike something or found it unfunny can blow up so fast And it suddenly it isn’t you sharing your opinions on your own page it’s a public announcement that a huge amount of people youve never interacted with in your life will dog on you for. that’s another reason why tumblr is so much better. you can bitch and moan about something all you want and go generally unbothered because your posts will only get seen by people who actively look for them or follow you already because they like you And the chances of 1 million vultures descending on you are far lower than on twitter aka rotting carcass the website ^_^

[shipwreckguy]

The Mighty Quinn / Arctic Dawn

Tug Arctic Dawn aground on Thames River; #conn #tug #barge #mightyquinn

[rackartyg]

it was actually such a bad decision to show what the companions think about your choices by just having an opaque "x approves/disapproves" pop up in the corner, when so many different numbers could be hiding under there. it gives you such an inaccurate view of their personalities and values -- there is a large and significant difference between a +/- 1 and +/- 5!

[alexturner2005]

Arabella @ Filinvest City Events Grounds March 6, 2023, By kleinsanity

[kaijuno]

The Most Interesting Man In The World.

That's Peter Freuchen and his wife Dagmar Freuchen-Gale, in a photo taken by Irving Penn (1947). Freuchen is a top candidate for the Most Interesting Man in the World. Standing six feet seven inches, Freuchen was an arctic explorer, journalist, author, and anthropologist. He participated in several arctic journeys (including a 1000-mile dogsled trip across Greenland), starred in an Oscar-winning film, wrote more than a dozen books (novels and nonfiction, including his Famous Book of the Eskimos), had a peg leg (he lost his leg to frostbite in 1926; he amputated his gangrenous toes himself), was involved in the Danish resistance against Germany, was imprisoned and sentenced to death by the Nazis before escaping to Sweden, studied to be a doctor at university, his first wife was Inuit and his second was a Danish margarine heiress, became friends with Jean Harlow and Mae West, once escaped from a blizzard shelter by cutting his way out of it with a knife fashioned from his own feces, and, last but certainly not least, won $64,000 on The $64,000 Question.

[astralnymphh]

before the flora.

knight!ellie x princess!reader teaser. beginning is essentially just lore. bonus excerpt with ellie and princess interaction below the sketch. wrote the intro in january. no warnings tbh. illustration by @trackinglessons :P READ THIS . PALESTINE MASTERPOST

When the universe was born, there was only fire; a slowly waning blaze. And so hence when death begins to unfurl its low, groaning bloom— there will only be ice.

Yet the heavens and earth are nay alike, as death— and life, are interwoven by the timeless nuptial that is humans, and Mother Nature. Cordial and tepid heartbeats meet with her frigid and frightening marrow this season. Flakes are falling, a howl swells in the wind, and hearths stay an undying tongue of flame in the province of Istenad. Isle of riches and hedonism gone rampant amongst those who proved meritful of a conversation spat over gilded chalices. Or those who wiped a famished tongue stroke over the sole of His Majesty— The King's tan leather boots in entreat, declaring the hide a tenfold more gullet–watering than their stale, daily spare of bread. Where high life reins, low life is there to scrub their steeds.

The wintry pearlescent tundra fringing around uncharted woodlands hums your name— it carries by gale, an airy reed of vowels pulled through your ears. 

Tut, tut, tut, the pecking of bark.

Everything seems to resound much heavier over the windows thick limestone sill. Woodwinds, the sough of pine boughs— a chorus wafted. Woodpeckers, they beat rigid timber with their sonnets of calling. The echoed tut starts to sound awfully kindred to a beckoning call of your name. And at daybreak, when the tangerine sun dips its head under the coast, you feel a magnetic lull to traverse your truest passions and slip away into the night, arctic chilled steel in hand. The quantity of hay sticking beneath your shoes collected by skittering across the night–doused thoroughfare was well enough to concern your maids on duty to dress you, brows fuddled at the streaming of straw near your door come morning.

Loop of your knuckles, bend of your wrist, a hand flexed on the hilt of a meticulously poached sword. A swing 'round your waist, a cold hale grip the air could taste, fighting off many mythic brutes of moonlight, however only conceived where dreams are airtight. The mind, it plays. The play it perceives, a viewing spread like tawny butter. Ghouls and ghastlies encircle a quaint pond, chanting away in cryptic grumbles and beastly bumbles, enraged with their slobber frothing at the fangs you tore from their sockets— deeper than artless, juxtaposed to the blinding ruby reds and dyed paper sunflowers of the theater. Your mind’s play felt real.

Unfortunate to your heart, dreams will stay dreams.

Nary a princess was meant to tune into melee, especially at your courting age. Nevertheless, your psyche has spurned from what a maiden is expected of and is completely in a haven of your own structure, your signature sanctuary. 

In the farmsteads, a forthcoming soldier harvests not just crop— but dexterity. Derived and nurtured in the faraway prairie village of Dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. Any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time unfolds. In their— well, her— adolescent years, the yearning for practices of gallantry in knighthood swiveled her sights to the colossal stone castle way.. way far away. Sprouting beyond the earth line, far as the eye can see.

So, she learned, she trained, she slept, partaking in a ranged cycle taught by her ruthlessly departed father: Sir Joel. Reprisal became her nemesis; never able to rend the barrier of hesitation and cleanse her shut eyes of revolting imagery. The horseman of death was not omitting the trauma of this hazel-haired soldier. A weight so burdensome, her speckled skin remembers the tales of every scar clawed into it. Like how the lips of a bard cling to an everlasting ballad.

Every knight knew well to exile any lingering ties to the past. It's been years since he passed, she understands that. Though, the heart never lies, and certainly never covets forgetting.

Ambitions stemming from legions of knights in waiting have fallen short, submerging within the moat of the castle and sinking deep into the catacombs with no elegy sung. An allegory for dreams long since vanished. A domain so valued longs for those biding life with rigid bones, such as she. Tempered by the hardships, endured like metal meeting the blacksmith's chisel. 

A vividness to her movements, flowing like a river. For it is water that soothes the most cosmic fires, carves veins into the earth's soil, descends from the heavens above and proves iron soluble. A knight so pinpoint and poised like a painter, yet so daring and baneful like a warrior of evenfall. An artisan of her craft, this knight-to-be is. Born to thrive in matters regarding protection of their kingdom and its nobility. By the sheer tenacity of her skill, she will excel. From the self–instructed lessons in a verdant pasture, basked by undying light in her hometown— to the ordained priming within the royal court. 

They were forged to be dutiful. 

You are a daughter of the illustrious King, Sagard, and swan–grace queen, Sagard— maiden name Adela, and sister of your highly revered and cherished kin, Prudence. Subsequent to her fabled rise, was your fall. A pratfall you plainly turned a serene ear from, for you foresaw its coming. Clandestine adventures and lollygagging in the marketplace earned you right in the clasp of consequences. You knew that, knowing it kept you on the balls of your toes before you'd be caught suiting into an act more repugnant— be it, no.. befogging yourself in a peasant boys' dire–in–muck rags, merely to play "boy" games as a young one? 

Sacrilege! 

Prudence was there, at every occasion, scolding with her youthful finger at the palace fore, sucking her fingertip wet of spit and dragging a stroke over your soot���strewn cheek, just before scuttling the halls in search of father, cawing, “Father, Father! My sisters become a boy again!” until it rang his fucking ears to a pulse. Hmph, father even countered his own remark of squawk, pouring through the walls, “Hah! The second son I wish I reared! Tell me, what peasants skin does she clad: butcher's boy, or of the farmer?”

Rebuking the role of royalty isn't your entire bastion of vengeance. You purely long for a world of your own color. Your self-brewn arcadia of art. In a concise phrase, desire for sovereignty. And your family chastised you curtly for every scant display of free will, short of the Queen, she is fair.

Daughter of the King, Princess of the thicket. You retain your fortunes. Modestly.

“Why don't you resemble your sister more?”

A ruby crested box designed by the best of goldsmiths is lodged at the margin of your beds footboard, safekeeping of your esteemed regalia. You possess a bedazzled amassing of circlets, veils, brocade and velvet tunics of long lengths within this box. But do any of them revel in the blessing of being worn on regal skin? Never. You opted for garbs of less gilding and jewels, so that you might taint it with whatever adventures mold under the ribbing of your foot. That shit offended your skin with its indelicacy of forgetting a human will don its fabric golds and woven jewels.

Even— court gatherings. You don the likeness of simplicity and temperate elegance. This morning's virginal aurora, a broach of light swoll from the windows arch, to the footing of your bed, made the wake of your eyes begin upon a lighting behind sheer skin. Your box of regalia shone in that incandescence momentarily. It danced, fleeter than you, irkingly so. You had to squint whilst flipping the clasps and hauling the heavy lid slanted against your bed, or else you may be heaven–blinded. “Every inch of Princess,” you intoned in quietude at the sight of glamored fabrics, “—whom I shant mirror.” and reached for the homelier fabrics, scratch of cobalt-blue linen delight brushing under your prints, you grasped your reserve tight.

“I was not made aware that there is a village wedding to be, dear sister— from what river does this dress of rags hail from?”

“It is not a brides dress, nor rags, leave me Prud—”

Prudence had blocked the shut of your chamber door with her hand flattened, pursuing, “You glum your gems. Rotting in that chest, tasting no light, no glory.”

You kept your lips thickly sown shut, casting dimly eyes to the ground.

“Shall I send for the steward so he may sell—”

“No need.”

“Hmm, most stubborn, are we? Then I—”

“I am least stubborn,” you wedged your fingers beneath her palm, prying the door loose, “—it is you, who strays your own counsel, unmoving as a mountain.” ending with the trudging shut of your door, ceasing in silence.

[++ bonus excerpt from act 2, scene 1]

“Uh–huh..” she draws out. Legato; a sarcastic reply, and wipes her tongue through the press of her lips together, “This far out? You must rebel quite often to have made a friend, I bet?” she tilts her head, a bit playful.

“You bet well— a lot, I assume?” 

Cannily, she winks, “Indeed I do.” and aligns her face onward. Gesturing to her horse's rump a second— third? Eh, whatever time— she jerks her brow with a head cock back, “Hop on, I'll take you there.”

Both brows fall, and you flinch bemused, “Wh– uh,” as you hem and haw for words, grating a stutter, “But not a moment ago you spoke of the roads recent perils—”

“Surely it's not far?” she spoke presumptuously, “I mean, you've come this far, My Lady. Nobody would travel the woods past sunset, besides you it seems.” now a matter–of–fact vocal barricade that shoves itself into your ears and winds the cogs to think cleverly.

You shan't know my transgressions, sweet Knight. You may talk.

Trust is sparse as a puddle marched in.

“‘Tis but a mile out. Bravo on your convincing, Williams.” you wry and scoff. 

“Can't fumble that name, huh?”

“I would not want to dishonor your knighthood.” 

“You honor me with your coincidental presence, Princess.”

“Honor in your mind.”

"Hmph," her breathy chuckle, a sweetness you luckily caught with ears even numbed by the snowsquall. Do not blush. Do not smile. Fuck. Guess you'll be visiting Malina after all, the gale of a displeased sigh icing your lips over as you approach that dangling stirrup.

[full-of-terrors]

Letter from Dr. Stanley to Dr. Fergusson written on board HMS Erebus July 12, 1845- Awe of the Arctic Exhibit 2024 NYPL

Transcript: My Dear Fergusson, having a few moments to spare before the letter bag is finally closed, I hasten to drop you a line to say that, although within the Arctic Circle , I'm not yet frozen to death and therefore in the land of the living and very jolly. We had a fairish passage out here but had a mighty gale of Cape Farewell, which sent us flying with closed topsails and courses to Cape Desolation, where in spite of the dismal name we found comfort. There's smooth water and a moderate breeze. These islands, and in fact, the whole of this western coast of Greenland, is the most barren and uninviting I ever beheld.

Some of the land is very high and serrated and has the appearance of being volcanic. On the bare rocks, large quantities of tripe-de-roche may be gathered, but as we were not reduced like our excellent captain on a former occasion to such a means of subsistence, no one I could find tried its qualities as a nutrient. We are completely surrounded with icebergs, some of them upwards of 200 feet high. They are, however, from the extreme heat disappearing fast and by their constant disruption, almost frightening your very life out of you.

I and a boat crew had a very narrow escape the other day out shooting. I had just fired and killed an eider duck when I observed that we had drifted closer to an immense iceberg, which I had previously noticed a day or two before in a decayed condition. I said to an officer who was with me "What luck it should come down by the sun!" And then ordered the men to pull quickly from our dangerous neighbor when it fell with a crash. Most stunning and awful to witness. There never was so lucky an escape. The discharge of my two barrels had no doubt hastened its overthrow. And although we were at a distance upwards of 100 yards, quite near enough we were knocked and tossed about by its displacement in the sea in a most uncomfortable manner.

The island swarms with mosquitoes and they are now flying about the gun room in all directions. They are the largest I ever beheld but not the most stinging. We sailed tonight for Lancaster Sound and the transport to dear old England with a report of our proceedings up to this period. At this season of the year, in this latitude, as you are aware there is no darkness. The sun never dips below the horizon. The nights I have there for devoted to shooting and the day to skinning and preserving the specimens I have killed. Since our arrival I have not slept more than 2 or 3 hours in 24. Goodsir is working harder than medusas and desires kindly to be remembered to you.

We are all sanguine and getting through the barrier into Beechey straits this year. Every one of the native Eskimos say this is the most open season they ever remember. And on the strength of our prospects I and the other officers have ordered letters to be directed to us at Panama and Kotzebue. The latter place will, of course, be the first port we shall make when we get through.

I have not a single man on the list and I have not had for several days. Sir John Franklin is not like the same person. He is so much improved in appearance and energy. He is almost always the first on deck and the last to leave it in all weathers. I must conclude now, old fellow, with best wishes and kind regards to Mrs. F and the bairns.

And believe me, your very sincere friend, Stephen S. Stanley. I had intended to have written to Fortnum and Masons. Pray tell them like a good soul that we are delighted with everything they furnished us and the members of the mess unanimously declare them to be trumps and we should be sorry to return before we have consumed all their good things.

[acronym-chaos]

Seal Themed ID Pack

[PT: Seal Themed ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Aquilo, Arctic, Azure, Blue, Breeze, Briny, Bubbles, Ceto, Cobalt, Coral, Cove, Drift, Eddy, Finley, Fjord, Flipper, Gale, Glacier, Hali, Harbor, Horizon, Jetty, Kai, Kelp, Lagoon, Marine, Maris, Nautilus, Nereus, Nix, Oceanus, Pearl, Pebbles, Reef, Rip, Ripley, Salt, Sandy, Selkie, Shoal, Siren, Skye, Splash, Storm, Surf, Tempest, Tide, Umi, Vela, Wave, Winter

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Bu / Bub / Les [Bubbles], Chill / Chills / Chills, Dee / Deep / Deeps, Di / Dive / Dives, Drift / Drifts / Drifts, Flip / Flipper / Flippers, Fo / Foam / Foams, Gli / Glide / Glides, Ic / Ice / Icy, Ke / Kelp / Kelps, Sal / Sals / Sals [Salt], Se / Sea / Seas, Sea / Seal / Seals, Splash / Splish / Sploshs, Swi / Swim / Swims, Wa / Wave / Waves

Titles

[PT: Titles].

The Deep-Sea Friend, The Frosted Tidewatcher, The Gentle Glider of the Sea, The Graceful Diver, The Guardian of Ocean Depths, The Keeper of Coastal Mysteries, The Ocean’s Playmate, The One Who Dances with the Waves, The Slick Silhouette, The Sunbather on Frozen Shores, The Wave Rider, [Pronoun] Who Plays in the Foam, [Pronoun] With Flippers of Silver

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, end ID]

Requested by anon!

Also tagging: @id-pack-archive

[pupsmailbox]

WINTER ID PACK

NAMES︰ alaska. alba. alban. alina. amara. andri. aneira. angel. angelina. angelo. apricity. aquila. aquilo. arctic. aspen. aster. aurelian. aurora. ayden. balthasar. bane. beir. beira. beiron. bell. belle. bianca. blanc. blanca. blanch. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. blaze. blizzard. blizzardette. blu. blue. borea. boreal. boreas. boris. brea. bree. bylur. carol. caspar. caspian. cedar. chandler. chione. chióni. chris. christina. christmas. clara. claudia. cloud. cloude. coco. cocoa. colden. cole. cozy. crimson. crystal. december. dew. dewdrop. dewey. dewy. diamond. douglas. edur. eira. eirlys. eirwan. eirwen. elitsa. ella. elowen. elsa. ember. emmanuel. emmanuelle. eryi. estelle. euria. everest. everett. everette. evergreen. fannar. faye. fionn. fir. fjolla. flake. frediano. freeze. fritz. fros. frost. frostette. frostine. frosty. fuyu. fuyuko. gale. garland. ginger. glace. glacia. gloria. gwen. gwyneira. hail. hala. hazel. hika. holly. icario. ice. icee. icelyn. icicle. icidia. icie. iclyn. icy. iris. isarr. isbert. ivor. ivy. jack. jaki. january. janus. jasper. jolly. joseph. josephine. joy. juniper. kalt. kari. khione. kirsi. kit. ledi. ledia. loden. lucas. lucien. lucina. lumi. mafuyu. mafuyuko. mary. melchior. merry. mira. miyuki. natalia. natalie. natasha. nevada. neve. nicholas. nick. nieves. nix. noel. noella. noelle. north. november. oak. oakley. olwen. orin. pepper. peppermint. perla. permafrost. pine. poinsettia. polar. polaris. quinlan. rain. raina. raine. rainer. reign. reyner. robin. rory. rudolf. rudolph. rudy. sally. scarlett. scrooge. silvia. sioc. snow. snowdrop. snowe. snowesse. snowette. snowine. snowstorm. snowy. solstice. soren. spruce. star. stella. stellan. storm. stormy. taiga. talia. theron. tundra. vail. vega. viola. vixen. warrin. weiss. whittaker. whyte. willow. winny. winter. wren. wynn. wynter. wyntr. yuki. yukio. yule. yulia. yves. yvette. zane. zanna. zarina. zephyr. zuko.

PRONOUNS︰ arc/arctic. arctic/arctic. aura/aura. bear/bear. bleak/bleak. bli/bliz. bli/blizzard. bliz/blizzard. blizz/blizzard. blizzard/blizzard. blue/blue. chi/chill. chill/chill. chilly/chilly. christ/christmas. christ/mas. clou/cloud. cloud/cloud. co/cold. coat/coat. cold/cold. cool/cool. cri/cryst. cry/cryo. cry/crystal. crys/crystal. crystal/crystal. drip/drip. drop/drop. fir/fir. fla/flake. flake/flake. flu/flurry. flur/flurry. flurry/flurrie. flurry/flurry. fre/freeze. freeze/freeze. frig/frigid. fro/frost. fros/frost. frost/bite. frost/frost. frostbite/frostbite. froze/frozen. gla/glace. glacier/glacier. globe/globe. glove/glove. gust/gust. hai/hail. hail/hail. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ice/ice. ice/icicle. icicle/icicle. it/it. ix/ix. mitten/mitten. pine/pine. plunge/plunge. polar/polar. rain/rain. rain/rainy. scarf/scarf. seal/seal. sharp/sharp. she/shiver. shiver/shiver. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. sky/sky. sle/sleet. sleet/sleet. slip/slippery.��slush/slush. sno/snow. snow/flake. snow/snow. snow/snowflake. so/snow. spire/spire. sto/storm. storm/storm. storm/stormy. stormy/stormy. tha/thaw. thxy/thxm. thy/thym. tundra/tundra. water/water. wi/wint. wi/winter. win/ter. win/winter. winter/winter. zero/zero. ❄️. 🌌. 🌨. 🌨️. 🌲. 🐻‍❄️. 🗻. 🧊.

[lynnlovesthestars]

169, Gale, songfic please?

https://open.spotify.com/track/7nzsY8vlnKdvGOEE0rjAXZ?si=fXqirgdVTmeOtBB8gMrW9g

omhg, first of all i havent done a song fic in a while and doing this one just pulled me out of a slump omg!! Thank you so much for your request!<3

Second of all I love arabella, it's one of my fav songs<33

anyway i hope you'll like it<3

Pairing: Gale x gn!reader/tav

Genre: fluff.

WC: 300/400 words.

Prompt: 169 “Oh, fuck. Do that again.” 

AN: as always its not been beta read or proofread!<3

Gale's eyes widened as soon as Tav's lips collided with his, while his heart almost leaped out of his chest.

He had been thinking about them since they had been given him the first artifact, their kindness in that instance reminded him that there was still altruism scattered around Faerun. 

His hands reached for their cheeks, gently caressing the Velvet flesh as he succumbed to the sweetness of their lips.

They had not planned for the kiss to happen, they just wanted to make sure he didn't need anything before they'd settle for sleep, yet the moment their eyes met and Gale had smiled, Tav couldn't help it.

They had to do it, they had to try before it was too late, before he'd agree to the idiotic request Mystra had made him. 

They were not going to let him go, not yet, not when they didn't tell him what they felt yet.

He couldn't pull away when they reluctantly gasped for air, following them like they had a magnet for his touch that would always keep him close.

“Fuck, do that again” He whispered as he pressed his forehead against Tav's with his eyes still closed.

Tav didn't hesitate to pull him close again, their whole body melting and molding against his as he desperately reached for their lips. They could both barely think as they quickly yearned for each other more and more, as they gasped between kisses, as they became sloppier and eager.

They didn't care if everyone could see them, how with each touch, each breath, each barely audible moan they longed for more.

Gale took care of it, gently whisking them up and helping them around his waist. “Let's take this to more intimate places” He whispered as he stepped in his tent, laying them on the softness of his bedroll.

“I wish to keep this for my eyes only” He hummed as he leaned forward, dipping his fingers in their hair and catching their lips in another hurried kiss.

[nerdalmighty]

hey! so, i just recently started playing baldur's gate 3 after seeing people put it all over my dash for months--and you're one of the people i've seen reblogging a lot of posts about it LOL. so if you don't mind me asking, i was wondering what kind of character do you/did you play as? and do you have any sort of backstory for your tav that you'd like to share?

Hoooooooooooooh my god thank you so much for asking. I have a friend who comes over to watch me play on Thursdays and I make a powerpoint every week to catch her up on what she missed - this week's powerpoint literally has slides about my Tav's background (more on those later). This is about to be long, I'm about to drop ALL my lore so buckle up! AND THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY BG3 BRAIN WORMS!!!!! I'm glad they convinced you to play 😈

So to begin, I've been in my first ever dnd campaign with a group of friends for a little over a year now. I didn't know much about Baldur's Gate except that it was a dnd video game and that you could romance people. Me, being a Big Fan of Romance And Fantasy was like "okay well I'm in" and my friend actually let me start a game at his house. Through that, I met Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion.

Backing up a bit to my character; I decided I'd put my character from my irl dnd campaign into the game since I already knew her whole deal. I get pretty overwhelmed with making decisions, ESPECIALLY with big open world games like bg3, so knowing who/what I wanted to be really helped me out.

In the campaign I'm in with friends, it's pirate themed, and I play a half-elf bard named Birdie Harp who's secretly half-siren (murder mermaid). To make a long story very short, she was born in the arctic and escaped her murderous pod during a coming-of-age trial where she also lost her siren abilities (hypnotizing voice, breathing underwater, etc).

I've watched a ton of Dimension 20 which is an actual play show on Dropout.tv (an "actual play" is where you watch other people run a campaign of dnd - like Critical Role, which a lot of people have at least heard of - HIGHLY recommend Dimension 20, as I find it incredibly funny and easier to get into than CR because of the episode lengths), and I knew that I really liked the silliness and theatricality of the bard class. I also loved the bards from The Owl House which helped influence my decision as well.

To be honest, Birdie is my first ever dnd character, so she's basically a self insert but with a MUCH more traumatic backstory than me (this IS dnd after all). As for the half-elf aspect, it was more of an "I want to be half mermaid, what's similar to that?" as opposed to a love for half-elves or something.

BACK TO BALDUR'S GATE - knowing I wanted Birdie to be in the game, I felt a lot less overwhelmed to come up with something entirely new - I knew a lot about the bard class having played one so I wanted to CONTINUE playing one (and I've learned even more since playing bg3!).

When I finally got my own game (I no longer play at my friend's house, but in the comfort of my own home), I recreated Birdie and started on my journey in earnest. I'm VERY MUCH someone who likes to be in control and know what to expect, so I've had guides and walkthroughs to help me the whole time - SUE ME! When it came to first meeting Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion back at my friend's house, Gale actually immediately stole my heart - a kind, witty wizard who likes books and cats? Literally say less. I went home from that session with my friend fully thinking I'd be a Gale girlie until I really looked into the other options and saw The Vampire.

Blah blah blah, he's hot and funny, but he can also be incredibly soft, which really won me over in the end. So I've been romancing That Guy.

Through Acts 1 and 2, I wasn't all too sure about this version of Birdie's background - sure she COULD still be that half-siren from the arctic, but the game kept suggesting she was FROM Baldur's Gate. I LOVED the inclusion of the harpies in Act 1 and thought maybe that was a viable entry point for her backstory, but so far, she was kind of just... me? She was making the choices I wanted to make (and a few that I knew Astarion would like lmao), but she wasn't really her own entity apart from me except for her name. She also felt vastly different from that character I'd created for my friends over a year ago. For instance, my irl Birdie currently has a crush on a Gale-type character, but this Birdie is ass deep in Astarion (hey, sorry I said "ass deep in Astarion"). The thing I love about Baldur's Gate 3 is how you can really come up with your own backstories, since the in-game one for your Tav is so vague. It's totally fine to ignore tiny details in the game and mold them to your own headcanons for your Tav, but I was so unsure of what I wanted for this Birdie that I kind of internalized that she was from Baldur's Gate.

HEADS UP! The following has some spoilers for Act 3 and some side quests, so STOP reading if that's something you'd care to avoid (the last 3 paragraphs of this post are SAFE from spoilers):

When Act 3 finally rolled around (which is where I am currently, I only have the one playthrough so far because I become INCREDIBLY attached to things), I stumbled across the Water Queen's House in Baldur's Gate. Ah ha! Now this felt promising.

A temple dedicated to the Vengeful Sea Goddess, Umberlee, and her loyal Wave Servants to serve her. It's ocean themed, it has mermaid undertones, and their goddess is basically evil. Seems like the perfect place to FINALLY insert this version of Birdie. I wasn't 100% sure until I completed the Iron Throne mission and was faced with either handing a (mostly) innocent man over to the Wave Servants, or fighting to defend him.

Here are a few of the slides from this week's powerpoint that I mentioned all the way back at the start, starting with SOME background on the Wave Servants:

Ass and Shart are what I affectionately call Astarion and Shadowheart (Also I got this beautiful "Birdie" art on Pinterest which originated from someone named Dantrelium on Reddit):

Apologies for the small text here, but there are some more details about THIS Birdie here, which I literally made up/figured out earlier this week:

Essentially, this Birdie was born at the Water Queen's House as Kittiwake Crest - Kittiwakes are common arctic birds, which I thought would be a nice little homage to the original character she was based off of. She was raised by the collective of Wave Servants there, the main one being Flood Tide Allandra Grey who seems to be head honcho at the Wave Mother's House (in this reality, she is).

Since Umberlee is such a vengeful goddess, I imagine she asked her Wave Servants to commit unspeakable acts in her name, mainly drownings, which THEY see as merciful, but I think Birdie always saw as horrifying. Who were they to decide the fates of others? I also think that the Wave Servants themselves were abusive during her upbringing to keep her in line (but much like how Nocturne was a light in the darkness for Shadowheart, I don't think EVERY Wave Servant was evil). GOTTA have a classic tragic backstory.

Upon researching Umberlee, I learned that most of her servants are clerics, so in my mind, that means Birdie was raised to eventually become one, with her official title eventually going to be "Seawind Kittiwake Crest." Is she still half-siren/mermaid though? Not entirely sure. This IS a magical world though, so I'd be inclined to say yes, probably.

But when we first meet the Wave Servants, they're singing beautifully for their drowned sister, Holli. I think Birdie REALLY loved music and singing with her sisters and secretly trained herself in bard magic when she should have been learning to be a cleric. It's also a classic trait of bards to hide their pain through humor, so I often imagine the type of stupid things Birdie gets up to to bring herself joy (my favorite headcanon being when you meet Skittle the Rat in Wyrm's Rock prison - he's a rat merchant who speaks exclusively in puns. I think Birdie and Gale would excitedly throw puns back and forth with Skittle while Astarion and Shadowheart begrudgingly (and affectionately) roll their eyes in the background).

Another thing I love about the game is how you can string together your own ideas of how companions react to things between big cut scenes. For example, in my head, in my game, Astarion has really become a Big Softy thanks to how fucking Stupid (affectionate) Birdie acts in life and has drawn him out of his shell, but also runs a tag team scam with her where she plays her lute to distract people while he loots an entire place. Gale is Birdie's partner in crime when it comes to tomfoolery and loves to joke and fool around with her (so long as it goes easy on his knees). And Shadowheart is basically a sister figure who flip flops between sassing with Astarion and joining in on the fun. THEY'RE JUST THE BEST, OKAY? OF COURSE I'M GONNA WALK AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF IDIOTS. I LOVE THEM.

Anyway, back to Birdie's backstory: she always hated the atrocities that were asked of her, and she was looking for a way out, but was too scared to take that step and leave since the Wave Mother's House is all she's ever known. One night, while stepping out to quietly dip her toes in the water, the Mindflayers captured her, and that's where we start Act One, all the way up on the Nautiloid. She changed her name to Birdie to distance herself from her previous life, fully took up the bard class, and the rest is history.

Back to that dilemma with handing over that (mostly) innocent guy or fighting the Wave Servants: with encouragement from the party, they convince Birdie to face her traumatic upbringing and fight the Wave Servants once and for all. At this point in Act 3, she's basically helped every single person with their problems except her own. Here's another slide featuring Ass and Birdie:

That's right folks, Birdie faced her past! But the bad news is we don't get to see Astarion in this (audio from The Adventurous Adventures of One Direction):

(Video description - Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3 wearing the Wave Mother's Armor with the following audio:

Guard 1: Whoa, check it out.

Guard 2: Hubba hubba hubba.

Gaurd 1: Nice. I love dudes in skirts.

END VIDEO.) I don't want to tell you how many times I recorded that until I felt like I got it right lol. Also yes, I DID do a scum save where I handed the guy over ONCE just so I could see Ass in this outfit, but Birdie did canonically save Redhammer in my actual save file.

And honestly, that's BASICALLY it for now! My most recent save was after that battle, so I need to figure out if Birdie's going to go back with her party to confront the rest of (or most of) the Wave Servants, or if this chapter of her life is closed.

In an ideal world I'd LOVE to make one of those artsy gif edits of my Tav like this and this, but PS5s make it hard to download clips without uploading them to YouTube first which I don't really want to do.

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask, I had a blast writing it!! Sorry it's so long, I just love this game so much and LOVE talking about it. Please feel free to ask more questions OR chat with me about YOUR Tav! I'd love to hear all about them :)

[rawcalamity]

"Gusts of frostbitten air slice through the atmosphere, conjured by the wings of a powerful beast. Hailing from the arctic skies is he who guides the cold storm; the behemoth of gale winds."

[ao3feed-skystar]

hands sullied with hope

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Yya1Bsp by LumisLighter (Endermaans) Skyfire did not make it out of the arctic. But neither does Starscream. - “Skyfire!” He is barely even able to hear himself over the howling gales. “Skyfire!” His vents begin to quiver in the freezing cold of the blizzard. But he must press on. Skyfire is half-buried when he finds him. His digits are dug into the ice, the substance crumbling in his servos. Starscream drops to his knees, clawing at the slush. He bites his tongue as it gets in his joints, causing them to stiffen and shake. His systems warn him that a shutdown is imminent if they stay in here any longer. Words: 1645, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jetfire | Skyfire (Transformers), Starscream (Transformers), Sideswipe (Transformers), Sunstreaker (Transformers), Ironhide (Transformers), Jazz (Transformers), Prowl (Transformers), Optimus Prime, Other Character Tags to Be Added Relationships: Jetfire | Skyfire/Starscream (Transformers), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e07 Fire In the Sky, they get frozen. yknow no big deal. aha., Eventual Happy Ending, if only for the author's sake, The Author Regrets Nothing, No Beta We Die Like Sentinel, Fluff, Angst, Starscream Needs A Hug (Transformers), Everyone Needs A Hug, Skyfire needs a hug, why isnt that a tag., might be violence in the later chapters but i make no promises, fuck it we ball, the author is flying by the seat of their pants on this one, Other Additional Tags to Be Added read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Yya1Bsp

[rackartyg]

my normal team is shadowheart + astarion + karlach but i'm going to the githyanki creche right now so i swapped out karlach for lae'zel and the bitchiness levels are off the charts. might have to make this permanent?