#Galethara

[elfboypussy]

gale shoujo is minthara horror (falling for a wizard)

[trashmancer]

“It feels like I’m wearing nothing at all~”

How I see the Minthara and Gale relationship. (Yes it’s a play on the classic Simpsons scene)

[kawareo]

I started shipping Minthara and Gale as a joke but I don't think it's a joke anymore

Bonus if Lae'zel and Gale are besties

[kaijusaur]

i love you bloodweave but i am not immune to galethara

[bg3scenarios]

Gale: I’m sad

Minthara: Reasonable human male emotion

Gale: No one likes me…

Minthara: So? You don’t have to be liked to be happy

Gale: You’ve never given a pep talk before, have you?

Minthara: I would rather burn in Avernus than have an ounce of ‘pep’ in my talk

Minthara: But I am attempting to help

Gale: …

Minthara: Would you like a… hug?

*Gale and Minthara share a very awkward hug*

Gale: That was awful

Minthara: We are in agreement

[velwynn]

thinking about how minthara is a cat person. thinking about how her and tara could be gal pals. thinking about how minthara and tara would talk shit about gale (lovingly).

[frickerdoodle]

Dancing lights

[librivore42]

A cultural exchange

This gif is mildly false advertising because there's no kissing in the fic but it definitely carries the 'Minthara yanks Gale in, much to his pleased surprise' energy. A secret withers gift for @quescon! Ao3 link below, and full text under the cut if you want to stay on tumblr (but comments and kudos would be welcome!)

A cultural exchange (1051 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minthara Baenre/Gale Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Minthara Baenre Additional Tags: Rated teen for the fact that they're definitely undressing eachother but that's about it, I'm bad at ratings okay Summary: Minthara is attracted to Gale, and Gale is clearly both interested and absolutely not going to make the first move, so why beat about the bush? She takes matters into her own hands.

~~~~~~

Minthara was indeed beautiful. Forceful. Powerful. Direct. So maybe Gale should have been slightly less surprised when, not half an hour after they’d set up their tents and he’d wandered toward the tree-line to look at some fascinating mushrooms, he’d been powerfully and directly pressed up against a tree.

“Minthara?”

“Wizard,” she said calmly, as if pinning wizards to trees and busying herself with the laces of their shirts was a common everyday occurrence.

Surely it wasn’t.

“May I-” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice level as a hand briefly dipped under the fabric, “ask what by Elminster’s beard you’re doing, exactly?”

“I did not think you would need it explained to you.” Red eyes much too close, much too pleasantly heated. “Or did your goddess not concern herself with the mortal necessity of undressing a bedmate?”

“Mystra would- I. That isn’t-” Feeling too flustered by the suddenness of it all to come up with a proper retort, he batted her hands away.

“Now really, I must protest!”

“Must you?” she said dryly, resuming her unlacing. “To what do you object, wizard?”

There were numerous and equally valid variables in this situation to object to. The suddenness of it, the lack of asking whether he was actually interested, as if his willingness to participate was not a consideration- not that he was wholly unwilling mind you, nevertheless it was the principle of the thing- but as his mind spun for some excuse to get her hands off of him so he could have a single coherent thought, all he could come up with was “The location.”

She raised her eyebrows, fingers stilling as he willed some blood back to his brain.

Good. She was distracted. Now he could push her very warm and very appealingly muscled arms away and walk back to camp and they could all pretend this had never happ-

“We. Ah. Are much too close to the campsite and our companions. A tent might afford us more privacy in this particular situation.”

Gods damn it. He went on, mouth working incessantly to fill up the silence she was staring at him with.

“Visual privacy at the very least, though if we were further in the forest we would have less chance of being overheard. It would be rather less comfortable but perhaps-”

“Are you never silent?” she said in milder annoyance than he was used to. And then, much to his surprise, “Very well. Privacy you shall have.”

Quick and efficient, he was grabbed by the mostly open shirt front and dragged into her tent, still a little dazed to have been given this consideration.

Once the tent flap closed them in together, she looked him up and down with vaguely proprietary air. Had Mystra ever looked at him like that, or had he always read it as affection? Minthara’s gaze was certainly different, but similar enough that it made him bristle.

“A second objection, if your sole interest is a warm body to satisfy your needs then I am certain there are many others to provide.”

A flicker of surprise, and then, bafflingly, increased interest as she stepped forward into his space and resumed undressing up.

“You are a strange one,” she said, her voice almost… amused? “If my sole interest was a warm body I would indeed have sought out another to provide it.”

Gale let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and he did have to wonder precisely how they got from Minthara seeming to express only the deepest disdain for him to her fingers sliding under his shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

Perhaps in drow culture disdain was a step up from indifference? He had to admit, he was not particularly well read on the ways of the drow, though he was dimly aware that men were faced almost exclusively with those two emotions. A shame really, he had been most remiss in learning more about their companion, not asking her nearly as many questions about the Underdark and drow as he had asked Lae’zel about the Astral plane and the Githyanki.

Given that Lae’zel was always very responsive and Minthara stared at him like a slug she’d prefer to step on, that was not surprising. But he could find books. Truly there was no excuse besides neglect that he had been caught so short-handed in this- her hands were at the laces of his trousers now - very…. sudden and… intimate…. cultural exchange-

A smack on his cheek, surprisingly light, brought him back to reality and the chill air on his increasingly bare skin.

“I expect you to pay attention.”

“Yes ma’am.” He wasn’t sure if it was the smack or the authoritative tone that made the response tumble from his mouth so readily, but he was sure that despite her lack of expression, he saw the following in Minthara’s eyes:

Surprise again Delight Satisfaction An even greater increase of interest

Duly noted. He filed that away in his currently limited mental codex of drow culture. Or his understanding of Minthara, at the very least. It would be prudent to assume that she was merely a partial reflection, not a complete representation, of what was no doubt a very varied and fascinating- oh Gods. Warm and calloused hands in the right place were remarkably focusing when he was in danger of getting distracted again.

He tried very hard to formulate a coherent thought again.

“Perhaps you should-” he gestured towards her. “Allow for a levelling of the playing field, as it were?”

“An impertinent question,” she scoffed, but took his hand and directed it to the buckles of her armour, giving him a little room to get his mind in order. He glanced at her quickly as he worked, noting the amusement buried deep in her eyes. She seemed to enjoy a little pushback, alternating with plenty of deference, though he had yet to learn if that was a drow preference, a Minthara preference, or simply what she preferred out of him.

“We shall have to do something about that failing of yours. Kneel.”

Ah well, who was he to miss an opportunity for greater cultural knowledge? He grinned a little, all too rapidly falling into the rhythm of this little encounter like a newly learned lanceboard strategy.

“Yes ma’am.”

[neurovamp]

i do believe that webweave is a ship that’s inherently at least a little toxic just because of how they both are but i love to indulge myself and think about them being soft…. some of my fav scenarios include:

gale reading to minthara

baths/showers together

(this is assuming minthara can play that damn lyre) but minthara playing softly to lull gale to sleep

cooking together, specifically them showing each other recipes from their homes

gale yapping and minthara kissing him to force him to be quiet

something tells me gale can sew so, him mending minthara’s clothes or even making her new ones

minthara picking out outfits for gale

matching jewelry

possessive minthara (but in an endearing way not an insane way) ((even tho that’s good too))

[ratscrap]

okay now i'm done

[rhotamin]

Fallen God

[elfboypussy]

good morning spiderweave nation

[wednesdayche]

need someone draw galethara like this

caption: You know, it's embarrassing for a man to sit on the back of a girl's motorcycle.

[shandoratheexplorer]

WIP Tag-along

I'll pick up your tag @strixamans!

Today I got possessed by the spirit of Galethara (18+!!!)

"On. Your. Knees. Wizard", Minthara commands, her voice sharp and dripping with authority. Before Gale's mind can process the order, his body obeys, dropping to his knees before her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a mix of reverence and raw anticipation. A smirk curves Minthara's lips as she closes the distance between them, each step deliberate, her hips swaying with a calculated grace that speaks of control. She places one leg over his shoulder, her thigh pressing against him. His hands instinctively rise to her hips, steadying her as she balances effortlessly on a single foot. Yet, she doesn't falter—her stance remains unshaken, her dominance absolute. With a swift, possessive motion, her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "Now, wizard", she commands, her tone both teasing and unyielding. "Put that eloquent tongue of yours to good use." There is no hesitation. Gale dives in, the edge of her demand igniting something primal within him. This isn't the ethereal dance he once shared with Mystra—otherworldly and intangible. This is visceral, consuming, grounding him in a way that strips away all artifice. It is life itself, burning and raw. Driven by hunger, he presses his tongue to the heart of her need, moving with a desperation that surprises even him. He laps at her like a man dying of thirst, drinking her in with an urgency that sets his blood alight. Her low, throaty moan is his reward, spurring him to delve deeper, to explore every inch of her. Her scent is intoxicating, a heady mix of arousal and power, filling his senses until there is nothing else. The taste of her lingers on his tongue, salty and electric, each stroke drawing more from her. Behind his eyelids a kaleidoscope of color explodes as his own need for her surges. Beneath his fingers, her skin feels impossibly soft, a contrast to the iron will she exudes. He tightens his grip on her hips, pulling her closer as her fingers curl tighter in his hair, urging him on. “Harder, wizard”, she breathes, the command punctuated by a sharp gasp. He glances up, catching sight of her—head tipped back, eyes closed, her face a portrait of ecstasy. Her hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, and he gives it without question. Every part of him—his focus, his mind, his very being—narrows to a single purpose: to make her call his name. Not just his occupation. His name. He adjusts, moving rougher, deeper, his tongue coaxing sounds from her that he commits to memory. Her breaths quicken, her moans becoming sharper until finally, it happens. “Gale!”, she cries out, her nails digging into his scalp as if to anchor herself against the tidal wave crashing over her. Her voice is raw, filled with an unrestrained pleasure that echoes in his ears like a symphony. Her climax is undeniable, the evidence of it pooling on his tongue, branding itself into his memory. For a moment, the world narrows to just this—her taste, her voice, the weight of her pleasure mingling with his own exhilaration. And he knows, even as her cries fade and her breathing steadies, that this moment is burned into him, even more irrevocable as the orb that simmers in his chest.

No pressure tags for @dramatiquechipmunk @fartasticdurge and @andauril

[sugoiney-weaver]

Uh, Gale, her eyes are.... you know what nevermind. I can't blame you.

[xanfeursel]