#bg 3 gale fic

[senualothbrok]

Promise

Screenshot by @dolceaspidenera

Summary: Gale learns what it means to love and be loved.

Sequel to Progress - a Professor Dekarios x OC journey through mental illness and recovery.

Word count: 7.9k

Disclaimers: Non-18+, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, mental illness and recovery.

Trigger warnings: Mental illness, eating disorder, body dysmorphia. Please practise self-care.

AO3 link

She looks happy.

She is smiling at you. You are lying in bed, facing each other. Sunlight streaks through your bedroom curtains as dawn breaks. You have to remind yourself that this is not a dream. She is really, truly here.

She closes her eyes as you run your thumb over her freckles, which fan out like stars over the contours of her face. Your fingers dance over her arm, the dip in her waist, the curve of her thighs. She does not shy away from your touch, nor try to hide her flesh from you. Her grey eyes quiver.

“I love you,” she whispers.

You cannot tell whether it is your tears or hers that linger on your tongue as you melt into each other.

---

You can still taste her salt and sweetness as you lie on your back, your arm curled around her as she nestles into your chest. She smells like lavender, soap, and sweat, and you cannot get enough of her scent as you bury your nose into her dark, damp waves.  She is playing with the hairs that trail from your chest to your navel, and you shiver from the shadow of her fingers. She notices.

“It’s a new experience, having such an effect on a man. It’s quite…flattering.”

She looks up at you with a small smile.

You chuckle. “You don’t know half of the effect that you’ve had on me, Aurora. I’ve spent two years imagining this moment, and still, my fantasies scarcely touched the surface of the miracle that you are.”

She is blushing, shifting. You kiss her on the tip of her nose, where she has the tiniest scar. You are engraving her every mark on the shrine of your memory.

“So…” She clears her throat. “You’re saying that you’ve been lusting after me since the first day we met? Your eyes met mine across the lecture hall and you thought, ‘This is a maiden I long for���. One glimpse of me was enough to rouse the fire in your loins. Is that it?”

She is playful now, teasing. You are aflame with this new side of her that no one else has seen.

You laugh. “Perhaps I exaggerate. But if not two years, then twenty months at most. I fell in love with you very quickly, Aurora. Much as I resisted it, or denied it to myself.”

Her gaze is evasive now, as though she is embarrassed. You clasp her to you. You need her to know, to feel the truth in your words. She must understand what she means to you. What she has meant to you, all this time.

“I’ve been alone since Mystra cast me off. At times, it’s been immensely lonely. To meet you, a kindred spirit, a soul that touched mine so instantly … that happens very rarely in a lifetime, if at all. Let’s just say that my body and soul yearned for you like water in a desert.”

You do not tell her about the frenzy that so often overcame you, slumped over your desk or under these very same sheets, thinking of her. The appetites of a schoolboy that she restored in you, when those desires had been all but dormant. Some things are better left to the imagination.

She is quiet. You can feel the faint timbre of her heartbeat through your skin.

“These things fluster you,” you observe.

She nods, biting her lip.

“Why? Don’t you believe me?”

“No, Gale, it’s not that.” She shakes her head. “I just find it hard to believe that someone like you could feel that way about me.”

She takes a deep breath.

“When we first met, I thought I’d found my first ever friend. And even that, I struggled to believe. I didn’t want to admit to myself that… well, I didn’t know what love was. Besides, how could it be possible? You’re the best man, the most beautiful person, I’ve ever known.”

You have such an urge to answer her with your mouth, your tongue, your body. But she is hesitant, and you must wait until the doubt passes. You must help her understand.

“But that’s what you are to me, Aurora.”

A frown passes across her brow.

“You’re the one and only.”

You brush your lips over her forehead.  She sighs, her features softening.

“Also,” you add. “Little things that you did drove me wild.”

Something glints in her gaze. “Like what?”

She presses herself closer to you.

“Too many to count. The way you bit your lip, for one. How delicately you turned the pages of every book. The way your face lit up talking about an illusion or a poem you loved.”

You can feel a familiar ache building.

“The way you widened your eyes when you looked at me. Like that. What you’re doing now.”

You thought you were spent, but you are already hardening.  She runs her tongue over her bottom lip.

“So I’m driving you wild at this very moment?”

You move your mouth closer to hers. “Yes.”

“Well.” She tilts her head. Her hand begins to float downwards from your navel. “It would be cruel to stop at that.”

As you push yourself on top of her, she lets out a little moan.

---

“Are you sure I look acceptable?”

She is fussing at the waistband of her skirt, the buttons on her sleeves. She fidgets with her hair clips, smoothing and re-smoothing her bodice.

“Is this the sort of thing that your mother will expect? Or should I wear something more modest?”

You chuckle. “You’re hardly baring every inch of your flesh to the world, Aurora.”

“Is it too conservative, then? Should I-”

You move closer to snake your hands around her waist. She leans her forehead against your chest.

“You look perfect. Marvellous.”

“I don’t,” she murmurs.

“You’re breathtaking.”

You are playing with the fabric on her shoulder. It torments you, the trail of freckles that drifts down the curve of her cheek, disappearing on the edge of her neck, only to reappear on her collarbone and shoulder blade. Aurora’s freckles are like winding roads in an unchartered territory, waiting to be discovered. Instinctively, your mouth dips down to follow where they lead.

“Gale…”

She looks up, frowning.

“What are you doing?”

You are losing yourself. There is something about having her here with you, in the home that you have occupied for so many years with only Tara for company, readying herself to meet those you cherish most. You never thought such a thing would be possible. You are suddenly dizzy with love and desire. Your tongue swirls against her skin, yearning for more of her.

“Your mother and Tara will be here any moment.”

But you can hear how her breath is hitching. Her eyes are half lidded, her lips parted. That she cannot resist you only fuels your hunger. You slide your hand underneath her skirt. She trembles against it.

“They can let themselves in,” you rasp.

---

Morena and Tara cannot conceal their joy when they see you stumbling down the stairs. The flush on Aurora’s cheeks has not yet receded as you make introductions. It does not escape their eagle eyes, how you repeatedly clear your throats and smooth your clothes and hair. How you rub at your beard again and again. When Aurora bites her lip, the images that rush through your mind make you shift to find your centre. Morena and Tara glance at each other with glee as you sit, sipping at the lukewarm cup of tea that has been waiting for you.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Tara and Gale, dear.” Morena beams. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you at last.”

She clasps Aurora’s hand. Aurora’s eyes widen. She is surprised by your mother’s warmth, just as she was taken aback by yours. You remember that she has never known a mother to give anything but punishment.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Dekarios.”

Morena huffs. “Please, let’s dispense with such formalities. You can call me Morena, and hopefully, one day, you’ll call me Mother.”

You choke on your tea, glaring at Tara as she tuts at you. Aurora strokes you on the back as you cough and sputter, trying to conceal her alarm.

“Mother,” you say when you can breathe again. “Will you have some cake? A cookie? Something to stuff your very empty mouth?”

“My dear son,” she chirps. “It’s so kind of you to worry over your mother’s happiness and comfort. In fact, it brings immeasurable joy to this old heart to see you in your current state. Just look at the two of you. Glowing, positively radiant, with love.”

She claps her hands together with a sigh. Tara joins in with a fluttering of wings.

“Now that I’ve seen you in person, dearest Aurora, I know that all of Tara’s reports are true. You and my son are perfectly matched. You’re a vision.”

Aurora’s cheeks are reddening. Pride surges through you as she speaks.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Mrs- I mean, Morena. Your son is an exceptional man. I’m very lucky to be here with him.”

She interlaces her fingers with yours under the table. You almost wish that Tara and Morena would leave now, so you can keep showing her how exceptional you can be.

Tara and Morena exchange a look. As if on cue, they flash their teeth in a grin.

“You are such a dear.” Morena titters. “Now, I hope you won’t take offence in me pointing this out, but neither of you are getting any younger-”

You bristle, raising a finger. “Mother, may I ask where you’re going with this?”

She pushes your finger down instantly. “My son, I was coming onto the future for the two of you. Tara and I have been waiting for years for-”

“Oh Gods.” You stand, waving your hands around. “Look at the time. I didn’t realise how late it was.”

Morena narrows her eyes.

“Mother, don’t you have an auction or something to hurry off to?”

“I actually-”

You stare at Tara. “And Tara, don’t you need to escort my dear Mother to her next appointment, to make sure she doesn’t get lost? She can be ever so disoriented these days.”

Tara arches her back.

Confusion and panic brim in Aurora’s gaze as it flits between the three of you.  There is a long silence. You do not back down. Morena purses her lips and rises to her feet slowly.

“Yes,” she drawls.  “I’m in an awful rush. I’m so grateful that you reminded me.”

You give her your sweetest, most innocent smile. You embrace her, kissing her gently on the cheek. She squeezes your shoulder.

“Come on, Tara. Let’s leave the lovebirds to their merrymaking.”

---

“Your mother is…”

“Difficult? Wonderful? Awkward?”

“I was going to say persistent.”

You laugh, whether it is from relief, amusement, or fear, you are not sure.

You are sitting on the sofa in the library. Her head rests on your lap as you untangle the braids from her hair. You had hoped that her first meeting with the inimitable Morena Dekarios would not be catastrophic. From the way that Aurora giggles now, you are reassured that it was not. Though whether this was solely owing to your premature termination of the meeting, you cannot say.

“She likes you,” you remark.

Aurora sighs. “I hope so.”

“It’s clear.” You chuckle. “You would know if she didn’t.”

She nestles further into you. You trace your finger up and down her jawline. How is it possible for a heart to feel so full? Perhaps that is what makes you feel brave.

“What did you think of Mother’s question?” You clear your throat. “About the future?”

She tilts her head. “That depends.”

“On what?” you ask, a little too quickly.

She pauses, and the sorrow in her smile wounds you.

“On how long you can put up with me.”

You pull her up into you. You kiss her so deeply, so desperately, that your flesh aches from where it has touched her. She is shaking when you come apart.

“I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it,” you breathe.

She pants into your lips. “Neither do I.”

---

There are good days, and there are bad days.

You expected this. The doctors and nurses warned you. You are prepared for the worst. You told them that nothing could phase you, and you are determined. You love her, and you will do what it takes.

You are an intellectual. You can measure things in the abstract, and see things with an academic’s remove. You know that the good days outweigh the bad days. You can see how she is changing, growing. You can see the chains which she is fighting to break.

Aurora has never lived with anyone but her mother. She has never known freedom, and it is a struggle to adjust. She has shed her glamour, and for the most part, she no longer hides behind the shroud of loose robes. She is full of passion and apprehension as she takes on management of Mr Serpentil’s bookstore. She supplements her income by hosting poetry and novel readings with elaborate shows of illusion. She is building a life for herself, which comes with as many obstacles as gains. There is laughter alongside her tears, hope alongside her despair. Her tenderness for you overflows between and beyond the sheets.

The doctors had wondered if it was too soon, if you were moving too fast. You have only known each other for two years, they warned, and Aurora’s affliction is not for the faint-hearted. Such challenges break even the strongest and most well-established relationships. You rebuffed them. You feel like you have known her your entire life, and you cannot waste any more time. You have suffered much, lost much, and you do not take anything for granted. You want to spend every moment with her.

You want to share everything with her, to bare your soul to her so completely that there are no more secrets between you. You tell her everything about your past, even the things that cause you grief and shame. You give your whole heart to her. It is the only way you know how to love her.

But there are times when the weight of her condition is crushing.  When she hides from you, and cannot be touched. When she cannot speak of the fears that claw at her, and retreats to a place you cannot go. When she freezes at the dinner table, stifling tears that come later in bed, when she shrinks away from your embrace.

It does not touch your love, only your resolve.

You know that kindness can overcome the burdens that a person carries. You yourself had friends who stood by you when you were a walking apocalypse, a ticking time bomb. They never abandoned you. They did not leave you to die.

You know that knowledge is the weapon to face any challenge.

You must find a solution, a cure, for her affliction.

---

Birthdays are difficult for her. All they signify is the devastation of yet another wasted year. She has never celebrated them. Her mother certainly never bothered, beyond reminding her of her shame and failures.

So when her birthday comes, you decide to celebrate her as she deserves.

You do what you do best. You array the dining room with candles and floating orbs. You fill the room with the scent of flowers, covering the table with a velvet cloth of rich green, her favourite colour. You spend hours preparing a rich, three course dinner, making sure that you dress the plates just so. You set the piano playing songs that have made Aurora smile. You brim with nervous excitement.

Tara insists that you wear your deep blue doublet and shave your beard, so you look your best. You humour her by doing the former, but you ignore her latter suggestion. From the speed with which Tara leaves, you can tell she thinks this night will involve more than a simple birthday celebration.

When Aurora returns home from the bookshop, shock blooms on her face. You take her hand and lead her into the dining room, where she looks around in bewilderment.

“You did all this for me,” she breathes, her eyes dilated with gratitude and desire.

“Happy birthday,” you reply, drawing her close.

You stumble and sway as your mouths find each other’s. She tastes of peppermint and smells of sea wind. You come apart panting, flushed, and you pull away from her only so you do not burn the food that is cooking. You glimpse a spasm of anxiety on her face, so you pass her your gift as you make your way to the kitchen.

“Gale.” She takes the box from you. “You really shouldn’t have.”

She stands at the boundary of the kitchen door as she unwraps it. You have found first edition copies of the complete works of Lorazelle Staunth, one of Aurora’s favourite romance writers. It took you some wrangling, but you managed to convince a colleague, a distant cousin of Staunth’s, to get them signed by their author. It is difficult to focus on the gravy you are stirring as you watch her out of the corner of your eye. She gasps, beaming, turning each book over in her hands with wonder and reverence, murmuring to herself.

You grin. “You’re welcome.”

She strides into the kitchen, over the invisible border that she has always feared to tread. Your breath catches as she leans into your back and wraps her arms around you. She does not let go, even when you have to walk back and forth to gather the dishes together to serve. Nor do you have the heart to ask her to release you.

You have never loved anyone so completely. You have never felt such happiness.

When you eventually sit down to eat, you take for granted what it is that you are asking. It dawns on you, as her jaw clenches and she grimaces. She tries, so hard, smiling, thanking you, complimenting your efforts. Her cutlery clatters on her plate, her movements are laboured. She tries to follow the thread of conversation, even when her gaze glazes and her words become broken. But in the end, it is too much, and you know you have pushed her too far, too soon.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps.

When she retreats to the bathroom, guilt engulfs you. You leave the untouched dishes, blow out the candles, silence the piano. You follow her, standing outside the locked door, listening to her muffled cries. You want to ask her to let you in. You do not know what to do, what to say. You wait.

How could you have been so foolish, so thoughtless? How could you have caused her such agony? You, who have always taken pride in your wisdom, your keen powers of observation. You have pushed the woman you love off a precipice, because you were selfish and insensitive. She has every right to be angry. To decide that you love her poorly. That you are unworthy.

You should have known better. You must make it up to her. You must find a way.

“This is my fault, Aurora,” you manage. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should have been more mindful… Please forgive me.”

The door creaks open slowly. Her eyes are swollen, her voice is hoarse.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong, Gale.”

She trudges back to the dining room, and you trail behind her. You can tell from her footsteps that she is exhausted. Adrift.  She gestures towards the table.

“Do you mind if we…”

You wrap your arms around her. She stands stiffly. She neither returns nor rejects your embrace. When you step back, she will not look at you.

“I don’t think I can give you what you need, Gale.”

You are taken aback by her words. Panic grows within you.

“What do you mean?”

She bites her lip, shaking her head.

“That’s not true, Aurora.” Your stomach lurches. “Please don’t say such things.”

She stares at you. There is something like coldness in her gaze, but you know it is not that. It is a wall of resignation, shame. There is bitterness in her voice, but it is not directed at you.

“You deserve someone who you can enjoy a dinner that you took such great lengths to prepare. Someone who’s grateful for all the amazing things you do. Someone who can receive the gifts that you give without reservations and certainly without…”

She swipes her hand towards the bathroom, the dining table, herself.

“…This. You deserve more than this shambles.”

“No, Aurora.” Your voice shakes like a plea. “No. I love you, what I deserve is-”

Her face twists.

“What if this is what it’s like, for the rest of my life? What if I can never sit beside you like a normal person and share such a wonderful meal that you so lovingly made? Will that be enough for you? Truly?”

You do not hesitate, not even for a second.

“Yes. Always. You’ll always be enough for me.”

She jerks her head back and forth. She knows you are being genuine, but there is dismay in her reaction.

“It isn’t enough. You deserve better.”

When you reach out to her, she turns away.

---

“Gale.”

There is uncertainty in her voice. She is flicking through the books and papers that clutter your desk as you look up from the letter you are furiously writing. When she last visited, Shadowheart told you about Sister Rose, a cleric at the House of the Moon, reputedly an expert in afflictions of this nature. You are bent on making her acquaintance as soon as possible.

“There’s an awful lot of research here about...”

You nod. She still struggles to give her condition a name.

“What about your own research? Your studies on Illusion?” She frowns. “Do you have time for…all this?”

It is true that you have put your own research on hold for the moment, but it hardly matters. You do not understand why both she and Tara have been asking you about this. You place your quill to one side and stand, crossing over to her. You place one hand on each shoulder, lowering your head to look straight into her eyes.

“This is my only priority right now, Aurora. If there’s anything out there that can help you be free of this burden, then I’ll find it.”

She winces. It stings you. All you want is to show her that you love and care for her more than anything. You do not understand.

“I think it might a bit more complicated than that, Gale.” Her gaze flickers away, then back to you. “I don’t think it’s an equation that can be solved with a simple formula.”

You search her eyes. She is withdrawing, you can sense it. Soon, you will not be able to follow. Desperation bubbles within you. You must show her that you can do it. You can help her.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. There’s a wealth of knowledge that I’ve not even touched yet. We’ll find a way out of this together.”

Her features spasm. She closes her eyes.

“This isn’t your burden, Gale. It isn’t your problem to fix.”

You take her face in your hands. Her eyes are misted now, darkening. You feel helpless to stop the clouds that are coming.

“You’re the woman I love. I do this because I love you.”

She presses her hand against yours. It is so small, so cold.

“Gale, your research, your studies-“

“Nothing matters more to me than you.”

She makes a choked sound. There is anguish in it. You need to prove to her that it can be done, that you can find her the keys to freedom. She holds you, and you can feel her shivering slightly. She turns, and you watch, bereft, as she leaves the room.

---

You jolt awake on some nights, clutching your chest where the mark of the orb used to be. Pain still blazes through you after the nightmares, emanating from the orb’s phantom, ripping through every muscle.  You grit your teeth and clench the sheets, waiting for it to pass. You do not know if you are imagining it, or if there are traces of the orb which remain. Perhaps Mystra is not fully pleased with you, despite having promised her forgiveness. Perhaps you still disappoint her, and this is the only reprimand that she can be bothered to muster.

Your dreams are black and purple. Gossamer veils and black tentacles wind around you, flooding the chambers of your heart. You are a young boy behind a rose bush, and then you are a man stripped bare by a command, and you are on your knees, undone before the astral abyss. The goddess looms over you, pronouncing your judgment, and you are terrified and alone.

Every time you wake trembling, shouting, she is by your side. She holds you, her dawn light caressing your hands, your chest, your eyes. She cradles you, and her whispers are like healing spells. You are loved. You are safe. You are enough. You are still here.

You wish you could do the same for her, every time the darkness comes.

---

“The dancing figures, and then the dragons that you conjured… the battle that you represented with those floating lights… It was truly spectacular, Aurora, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You have returned home with Aurora. Your hands are a flurry, and you can barely contain the excitement and pride in your voice. For almost four months she has been working with a collection of poets and playwrights to put together a showcase of their debut works. A small production, but a raving success. That only a modest crowd attended the performance seems to you the greatest injustice.

On the walk back, she has been smiling, nodding, making the occasional sound of agreement. But you can tell that she is not present. You tell yourself it must be post-performance exhaustion, frayed nerves. Perhaps she has not eaten or drunk enough. Maybe she needs more sleep. Her days have been long lately.

Yet there is something in her quietness that gives you pause.

“Aurora, are you alright?” You place a hand on her cheek. “Is something the matter?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Gale.”

You can tell from the way that she hunches into herself, from the wall that has come up behind her eyes, that she is not fine.

“What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No.” She turns away. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Aurora.” You take her hand. “Please, tell me.”

Her lip quivers. She starts and stops. “I can’t. I don’t…”

She closes her eyes. She pushes you away when you try to hold her. Sometimes, it is agonising when she withdraws. When you have shown her your whole soul, and there are parts of herself she hides from you. Tonight, it feels like a rejection. Perhaps it is not that she cannot give you everything, or that she fears to do so. Perhaps she simply does not wish to.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Your voice comes out flat, but inside you are breaking. The torment in her gaze is like a gash in your heart.

“No, I…” She balls her fists. “I just…”

You never thought you would ever wish to have a mindflayer tadpole again. But tonight, you remember how it was, to so easily join your thoughts to another’s, to share their memories and feelings, to see the world through their eyes. Tonight, you wish you both had a tadpole, so you could ask her to let you in. So you could understand her.

But perhaps she still would not wish to open herself to you.

“It’s alright, Aurora. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Gale…”

Old memories are coming to you now. Old wounds, from giving of yourself and asking, then failing to receive. Of waiting, fighting to become worthy. Of being shut behind icy walls, left with nothing but your lack.

“I understand if there are things you don’t wish to share with me.”

She steps towards you. “It’s not that…”

A flood has begun inside you now, and you feel like you may drown.

“I understand if you don’t feel like you can trust me. Perhaps I need to do more to earn your trust.”

She is shaking her head furiously.

“I know that I’ve failed on many occasions to be what you need me to be-”

“Gale, please stop.”

There is such an urgency in her words. You stare at her.  

“It’s not your fault.”

A tear rolls down her cheek.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… I just don’t have the words to tell you. Everything inside is just… a mess.”

There is a flash of light inside you. A wave of relief ripples amongst the flood.

“I want you to read my thoughts.”

You are speechless for a moment. You are considering what this means, what she is giving you. The weight of rejection that you no longer have to carry. The fear that you can cast out.

She nods at you, firmly, earnestly.

“I want you to know everything. Please, Gale. Cast the spell.”

---

When you read her thoughts, you see. You feel the anguish that jolts through her, watching the meaningless flirtations that are cast your way. The painted faces and willowy figures flaunted by younger women she believes are more worthy of your attentions. You hear the voices within her, screaming at her for the ways in which she differs from them. Her hair, lank and dark, her skin, blemished and rubbery. Bulges in her flesh where other bodies lay flat. Endless mirrors, laden with shame and anger twisted inwards like a blade, a barbed yearning to be different, better, beautiful.

He is so beautiful, the voice chants, and you are not. He will soon see, and grow weary of you. And then he will leave.

There had been a few women, after the performance, who had thrown themselves at you. You scarcely remembered them, they were so trivial, their chattering so absurd. You had never been one to fawn over such superficial things. Others may consider you attractive, but what of it? You have no eyes for anyone else but her.

But now you see, and you understand. You realise that the frequency of such incidents hurts her. It is not your fault, but she struggles nonetheless.

“Aurora.” You are afraid you might cry from the intensity of her pain. “There’s no one else. You’re the only one I see.”

You are not on your knees, but you feel as though you are begging.

“I love you. Only you. You must believe me. You must see it.”

You can tell how badly she wants to say yes. But she does not.

“What can I do to prove it to you?” you plea. “What more can I do to show you? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”

She takes your face in her hands. She looks at you with love and despair.

“You’ve given me everything, Gale. There’s nothing more you can do.”

---

“Thank you so much for seeing me, Sister.”

Her face crinkles as she smiles. She seems kind enough, but you are uncertain she will be able to give you more than the leading scholars you have harangued. But you are willing to try anything. Even an elderly cleric of Selune who has spoken to you for half an hour about gardening.

“It sounds like you’ve done considerable research into this condition, Professor Dekarios.”

“I have,” you confess. “But I’m aware that you have considerable practical experience in healing individuals with this affliction. And that’s why I’m here, to understand the methods that have given you such success.”

“Oh?” She rests her chin on steepled fingers.

“Yes,” you continue. “I’ve been trying to apply the recommended approaches, Sister, based on the latest advice from the House of Healing in-”

“Approaches?”

You nod. She considers for a moment, her brow furrowed.

“Professor Dekarios,” she begins. “Do you love your fiancé?”

“She’s not my-”

You stop yourself. She is more to you than even that.

“Yes. I do. Very much.”

“And do you show her that, with your words and actions?”

You are not sure where this line of reasoning is leading. But you are reassured by the gentleness in the Sister’s voice.

“Yes. I do.”

She leans forward in her chair.

“When she struggles, do you show her patience, kindness, and respect?”

“Of course.” You frown. You assume this is obvious. How could you not? “And I try, always, to broaden the limits of my understanding.”

She hums. “And when you speak to your fiancé, do you speak to her soul, or her affliction?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean, Sister.”

“Do you truly see her? The truth of her person, beyond the hold that this condition has on her? Who she is, outside of this suffering?”

You remember the way she rocked against you as she wept, that first time she had let you visit her in the House of Healing. ‘This is all I am,’ she had said. ‘This is all I’ve ever been.’ It was not true then, and it is not true now.

“I do, Sister.”

She nods, then leans back again.

“Then you’re doing everything that you can do.”

That cannot be all. You cannot mask the exasperation in your voice.

“Surely there must be something more I can do. There must be a remedy-”

Something steels in her gaze. “May I speak frankly, Professor Dekarios?”

“Of course.”

She draws in a sharp breath.

“What your fiancé suffers from cannot be cured with a spell or a tincture, a scalpel or a course of medicine. She must walk herself through a tangle of vines, and cut them off one by one at the root. It may take her a few months, or it may take her a lifetime. But you can’t do this for her. Neither is it your responsibility to do so.”

She cuts you off before you can interject.

“You can’t cure her. All you can do is love her, and show her what lies beyond the vines. That’s enough, Professor Dekarios.”

Her smile is light, but her words are heavy.

“You’re doing enough.”

---

As soon as you open the front door, the smell of burning assails you. You rush into your home, leaping from room to room, calling out her name. Eventually, her voice comes to you from the kitchen.

You find her there, crouching on the floor amidst a scattering of broken china. She is holding a cloth around her right thumb, drenched in crimson.

“What happened?” you gasp.

You hurry to her side. As you fuss over her injury, gathering up the sharp shards around you, she tries to reassure you that she is fine, everything is fine.

“I wanted to make you something,” she explains. “Something we could share together – I wanted to try, to show you I’m getting better.”

She stares at her bleeding thumb, at the remains of the charred dish she could not prepare. You wrap your arms around her. You do not want her to be crushed by disappointment, feeling she has failed. You want to shield her from it all, forever.

“You have nothing to prove, Aurora.”

“But I do.” She looks up at you with whirling eyes.  “I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground, trying to fix me.”

“It’s not like that-”

“But it is, Gale. I love you, and I always will. You don’t need to earn it. You can’t fix me. You don’t need to.”

The words stick in your throat. You are overwhelmed by the knowledge that even in her distress, she has sought to give you comfort. To assure you of her love. In the light of her gaze, the shadows of your old wounds seem to fade.

“I’m not going anywhere.” The resolve in her voice fills you with hope. “And I’ll fight this until the end.”

She curls into you, and you cradle her head against your heart. You are not sure how long you remain there, still and silent, cocooned in each other. You become aware of her lips brushing against the exposed skin of your chest, drifting softly up the side of your neck, over the line of your jaw. You tremble as her tongue flutters on the bristles of your cheek. Her searching mouth opens to yours.

And then, all you can feel and taste and smell is her.

---

“Where did you learn all these things?”

You smirk at the question. Your body drapes over hers like a mantle. There is awe and mischief in her tone. Dusted with pink, her skin gleams with the after-effects of your passion. You cannot get enough of the sight.

“Aurora,” you chide. “A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You aren’t always a gentleman.”

“I suppose not.”

You swipe your tongue around the peak of her nipple. She moans, batting you softly away as you laugh.

“But Gale,” she whines. “I’m curious.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, I am.” Those wide, bright eyes again. You can never refuse them.

“I’ll do my best to sate your curiosity,” you mumble into her neck.

She chews her lip. “I know there were a few others, before Mystra.”

“There were.”

She sighs as you nibble at her collarbone.

“But no one of note, you said.”

You hum, tracing your nose down her shoulder. “Forgettable. Distractions.”

“And then Mystra preferred things abstract, incorporeal…”

“She did.” You are following Aurora’s freckles again, down to the underside of her breast. You can feel the vibrations of her body.

“So how did you gain such proficiency in-”

She sucks in a breath as you lick at the spray of freckles around her navel, meandering down to her centre. Her hips roll ever so slightly. You are surging.

You grin as you look up at her. “I studied and practised.”

---

Your clasp and unclasp your hands behind your back. Your throat is dry, your chest a tangle. In a haze, you scan the smiling faces of all your nearest and dearest, gathered before you with eager anticipation. The scent of lavender drifts from the arch behind you, stilling your thoughts for a moment.

You had been planning to ask her. For weeks you had fretted over the words, the time and place. You had worried that it was too soon, too much. Your research told you that such events could often trigger an exacerbation of her affliction. You did not want to subject her to such agony. And though you knew her love and desire for you, fear still clung to you like your phantom orb. Part of you was still afraid she would not accept.

She had turned up at Blackstaff unexpectedly on your birthday. You had planned to take a stroll into the city together after your classes were over, but she wanted to give you a present before then. With wonder, you unravelled a collection of poems she had written. Entitled “Promise”, the first page was a dedication to you.

Her poems conjured the splendour of stars bursting. It did not take long for you to devour them all. And she had known you would, because the last line of the final poem ended: “Marry me.”

It is true that there were tears, and half-eaten meals, and broken mirrors. You tried to take on as many of the preparations as possible, to shield her from the stress. You reassured her that the wedding could be postponed or cancelled if she was not ready. You could not take away her fears about what she might wear, how she might look. Yet she had promised that she would fight, and fight she did. And now, you are here.

You can see your mother giggling as she whispers to your aunt and uncle, your cousins jostling keenly around them. Nurse Mona sits amongst a small group of druids and bards, Aurora’s closest friends. Elminster bobs his head to the rhythm of the lutist. Karlach glimmers with muted fire, grinning at you and waving. You wave back, extending your greeting to a beaming Halsin beside her. You glimpse Astarion and Tav, fiddling with each other’s collars, and Shadowheart examining a piece of parchment with Xan. Lae’zel watches and listens with silent pride.

It has been years since you have come together with your companions from the old days. Time and distance could not sever the bonds that formed between you so long ago. Yet their absence was a hole inside you that ached to be filled, until today.

To stand here, surrounded by these people you cherish so dearly, knowing you are loved and desired by her so completely – it is overwhelming. You are blinking, rubbing your eyes hard.  Wyll squeezes your arm behind you. You turn to face him.

“Remember what we talked about, Gale.”

You inhale sharply, running your fingers through your hair.

“Breathe…” Wyll chants. “Think: Calm. Composed. Dignified.”

“I am calm and composed,” you echo. “I am dignified.”

He nods sagely. “We have the whole day ahead of us.”

“And I can’t be a blubbering mess already.” You clear your throat.

Wyll chuckles. “If anyone can handle this, my friend, it’s you.”

In his gold-embroidered, midnight blue doublet, Wyll exudes courtly bearing. When he and Karlach had returned to Baldur’s Gate, it did not take long for you to rekindle your friendship.

“Thank you for being here, Wyll. I can’t think of a better man to stand by my side.”

His smile is warm as the summer sun.

“Thank you, Gale. The honour is all mine.”

---

When Sister Rose begins her opening remarks, you are barely listening. Your eyes have caught on a flurry of movement in the distance. Your breath hitches.

Tara flutters down the aisle, and comes to rest opposite you and Wyll. Your oldest companion, your most loyal friend. The one who cared for you when you had no one else. Now, she stands by the woman that you love as her most ardent defender, her confidante. You reach out to her. She nuzzles your hand with her cheek. Your vision is beginning to blur.

Everything around you dissolves as Aurora steps forward. She wears her dark waves like a crown. Her face glows in the sunlight, bare except for a flicker of blue kohl on her eyelids and a dusting of glitter on her freckled cheekbones. Her gown is a waterfall of stars at midnight, resting lightly around her waist, cascading around her as she moves. It is a masterful, delicate illusion, but it does not conceal her, nor temper her beauty. She strides towards you with the certainty of hope, the resolve of love.

The tears come, and you cannot stop them.

She does not take her eyes off yours as she approaches. You have never before witnessed such a miracle, nor felt a happiness so bright and raw.

You are both crying as she takes her place. There is a ripple of sighs from the crowd as Wyll passes you a handkerchief and Sister Rose presses a cloth into Aurora’s shaking fingers. You are laughing as you wipe away each other’s tears.

You take hold of her hands, and it begins.

---

“Here he is, the man of the hour.”

You dip your head at Astarion. Tav embraces you.

“I do apologise. I was making a beeline for you, but got accosted by a very merry Elminster, extolling the virtues of our cheese board in painstaking detail.”

“None of us have been able to get near it,” Tav laments. “Or dared to try.”

“Lovely cloak, Astarion. Very… vampiric.”

Astarion arches an eyebrow. “It was either this or not coming at all. Fashion is less important than not frying in the sun, I’m afraid, even for such a momentous occasion.”

You chuckle. “Thank you for coming.”

His fangs glint as he grins. Tav circles an arm around his shoulder.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Gale,” Tav exclaims. “We’re so, so happy for you.”

“We just had the pleasure of your wife’s acquaintance.” Astarion takes a sip of wine. “I didn’t think I would ever meet someone so similar to you in every respect, yet not insufferable at all! Your wife is simply charming. An absolute delight.”

“Astarion,” Tav warns.

You titter. “I think I’ll take that comment in the spirit in which it was intended. She’s exceptional. Remarkable. I agree.”

“I can only imagine how many long and intense discussions you had in the library,” Astarion purrs. “Staring longingly at each other, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s-”

Tav jostles him. “Astarion, stop!”

Astarion cackles.

“What’s so funny?”

You flinch a little from the force of Karlach’s hug. Halsin, deep in conversation with a smiling Aurora, follows behind. She radiates with joy, and you have never wanted her more.

You clasp Halsin’s hand in greeting.

“Just to be clear, Halsin.” You plant a kiss on Aurora’s cheek, intertwining your fingers with hers. “My wife and I are quite happy with our relationship, as it is. Just the two of us.”

Halsin holds his hands up. “I wouldn’t presume otherwise, Gale.”

Aurora looks at you in confusion. You touch your nose to hers.

Karlach chortles. “You two are so fucking sweet.”

---

“So we’ll see you again next month?” Aurora asks hopefully.

“Of course.” Shadowheart takes the wine that you offer her. “I might end up staying longer at the House of the Moon this time. I’ll bring you those scrolls and tinctures that we discussed.”

Aurora’s eyes dance with delight.

“Will you bring the owlbear?” Karlach gushes. “Wyll and I have missed the little guy.”

“Perhaps that would be an opportunity for Xan.” Lae’zel glances at the child. “You wanted to make a sculpture of a great beast of Faerun, did you not?”

Xan nods thoughtfully. He scribbles something in his notebook.

“It would be a great opportunity for us, too, Lae’zel,” you muse. “To hear more of your jokes.”

Lae’zel twitches.

“And to learn about more unconventional uses of Githyanki psionics.” You catch Aurora’s eye, and she bites her lip.

“Observe, Xan,” Lae’zel remarks, gesturing between the two of you. “Waterdhavian mating rituals are indeed more refined than others in Faerun.”

There is the slightest lift of Lae’zel’s eyebrow. You clap your hands together and laugh.

---

How is it possible for a heart to feel so full?

You stand silently, bathing in the light of the stars, buoyed by the song of those you love around you. You search for her, and it does not take long to find her.

She lingers near the central table, admiring the intricate designs on the cake which your mother crafted with tenderness and zeal. Gently, she takes a small slice in her hands, lifting it to her lips.

She takes one bite, and then pauses. She takes another. She smiles.

Her grey eyes meet yours across the expanse. You bound towards her, and she squeals as you lift her up and spin her around. You can taste brandy and chocolate as her mouth glides against yours.

“I think it’s time to go,” you whisper.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: When I finished Progress, I thought it would be a standalone fic. But I was so in love with Gale and Aurora, and so wanted to give them a happy ending. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for taking the time to engage with this story.

If you liked this fic, you can check out my other work here.

Please, feel free to reach out, I'd love to hear from you.

--

Read the sequel: Revelation

[nivasichakano]

Snippet Smonday

Thanks for the tag @badmarilynart! I don't have any more of Driven written yet so here's the beginning of the second chapter of Hellfire & Damnation, my old new Bloodweave Hellfire Club AU that I'll be working on after the meepboys park up for good. Nopreshtags: @davenswitcher @buhloodweeeave @hylianworrier

Chapter 2 - A Proposal

Gale rapidly pushes himself up to sitting, gathering his fallen toga over his embarrassment, backing away until he hits the cold stone wall.

“Lord Ancunin!”

The Hellfire Club’s founder lets out another low laugh, sitting back on his heels. Even kneeling, his slender physique is perfect, a body carved from heavenly marble. “You look dismayed. Am I to take this as an insult, Baronet? I am a disappointment. You would have preferred another?”

“N-no, I mean-” All of Gale’s earlier defiance is gone, melting under the heat of those intense green eyes and his current vulnerability. “I merely thought-”

His words are failing him as his mind races. Why is Lord Ancunin here? Is this an attempt to gain leverage? Blackmail material, as Wyll speculated earlier? After all, what they have just done borders on unlawful. But what could such a powerful member of the House of Lords require from a mere scientist, albeit a highly decorated one? Why would Ancunin… attend to this matter personally?

“I was not expecting you, my Lord,” Gale attempts to steady his voice, trying to collect his thoughts. “I was informed that you do not… participate in the… revelry of your own gatherings.”

“Then your informant is either unreliable or I am simply unpredictable.” Those plump lips quirk into a one-sided grin and Ancunin extends a graceful hand to trace up Gale’s exposed shin. “I’d like to think it was the latter.”

Gale doesn’t know what to say or do. All of his attention is taken up by the pale hand softly caressing the hair on his leg. 

“May I see your face, Baronet?” Ancunin’s tone is surprisingly coquettish. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…”

Something about his voice, or his presence, or the way his damned fingers are sliding up Gale’s thigh makes the request difficult to deny. Gale reaches up to the back of his head and undoes the thin mask, pulling it from his eyes. 

Ancunin’s head tilts as he contemplates Gale’s face, an uncanny sight in his golden, multi-tined disguise. Then he removes his hand from Gale’s leg and undoes his own face covering, taking it off and setting it on the bed.

Without the mask, he is even more beautiful than Gale had estimated. Ancunin’s eyes are ringed with kohl and his lashes are thick and dark, fluttering against the tops of high cheekbones when he coyly lowers his gaze. 

“That's better,” he purrs. “Now we may proceed with our affairs.” 

“Affairs?” Gale studies Ancunin’s face, trying to determine his intentions, but there’s nothing there. Only cold, indecipherable beauty. What does he want? What does he want? What does he want?

“I have informants of my own, you know,” the man says softly and Gale freezes.

Aha, here we go.

“They tell me you find yourself without a patron. That it is this current plight which brings you here to my little corner of Hades.”

“Then it seems your informant is more reliable than mine or I am simply predictable.”

Lord Ancunin laughs out loud, a pretty sound that reverberates around the alcove like the voice of a mythical nymph.  “I do only pay the best, you know,” his head is tilted again, the same coy smile on his face. “On which note: if I were to offer you my investment, Baronet, what precisely would you be willing to do to secure it?”

~

Read Chapter 1 of Hellfire & Damnation on AO3!

[little-tyrant-gortash]

"I speak, you obey" Enver Gortash vs. "I speak, they burn" Gale Dekarios- 👀

[shewolfofvilnius]

Sorceress Lia

"So, Elise, we've been reading your fic, love it, but I have to admit I have trouble visualising what Lia as a sorcerer/sorceress would actually look like."

I HAVE GOT YOU! Mods to the rescue. See above from the character model screen, as well as the below screenshots. As always, curse Larian and their "tails clip through everything" mentality with tiefling models.

From there, you need only imagine her the same as any other wild magic sorc in the game, complete with occasional tendency to turn characters into sheep and there you go!

[converse-luke]

Wrote this tiny scene in my bloodweave Cazador wins au where Astarion starts appearing in Gale’s dreams while trapped in Cania trying to convince him he’s real and that he needs help. Gale of course can always tell when he’s dreaming and doesn’t believe him, thinking he’s just another part of the dream/nightmare.

Love the idea and the angst opportunity but I can’t make it work in the fic. Maybe in a different fic it could work. That might actually be a good idea

[lynnlovesthestars]

The Vault.- Work in Progress page.

Hi, welcome to my work in progress page, where I'll update with the status of the current pieces I'm writing, and to give a sneak peak on what's coming up.

When im mentioning OC, im always referring to my oc @wisterialynn

Status: I (Idea), W (Writing), E (Editing), B (Beta reading), T (To post), P (or strikethroughed, posted)

Genre: DDDNE (Dead dove), A (Angst), F (fluff), S (Smut), H (Hurt no comfort), C (hurt with comfort)

It includes requests

Astarion:

Untitled (Astarion x reader), where reader gets gravely injured and Astarion doesn't like it. W C F

Pretending pt. 3 (Astarion x reader) After a night of cuddles, waking up in an empty bed feels oddly wrong. W C F

Pretending pt. 4 (Astarion x reader) the shadowcurse is way more dangerous than what it seems H W

Little bump (Astarion x reader), dadstarion headcanon T F

request (Astarion x A Tav who rides a very large wyvern, with them having a bond similar to Daenerys and Drogon or Daemon and Caraxes from GOT/HOTD??) W

request (Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers [...]) E

Untitled (Astarion x reader) teaching magic to Astarion F I

Bloodshift (Astarion x oc):

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Dddne, oc has gone through some harsh things for the past 4 years, and he has doubtful ways of coping. DDDNE, H, I

Untitled (Astarion x OC) where oc has a gift for Astarion, but he didn't think it through, featuring the couple rings you find in the graveyard near moonrise towers. C W

Untitled. (Astarion x OC) modern au, where Astarion has had a crush on oc for a long time, but does the wrong thing and almost fucks it up. W C

Untitled (Astarion x OC) college au, Artist !oc and best friend! art model! Astarion C W

Rooftops (Astarion x OC). What if they met after the fall of the netherbrain? C T

Nightmares. (Astarion x OC), study of their nightmares and their backgrounds, written in parallel. T C

Untitled. (Astarion x OC), where one can't hide anymore that they have to be caught in the middle of compromising moments, ft. oc background mentions S T

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Guardian angel au. I

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Background study of OC's trauma, ft smut. S E

Untitled (Astarion x OC) study of oc trauma, ft. hurt comfort. C W

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Miniseries walking through their relationship and rewriting scenes from the main game based on how oc would react. I

Holidays (Astarion x OC), for the holiday challenge on ao3, where the two lovers confront the fact that they have lost a lot since the last moment of peace they had. (W C

Karlach:

Untitled (Karlach x reader) finally you get to touch Karlach how she deserves. Inspired by the dialogue in act one- which is bugged in my run so i can do it over n over again) S W

Letters (Karlach x Dammon) title is self explanatory. F W

Untitled (Karlach x ??) Karlach has a twitter gossip account in anon and plays matchmaker. Modern au, socmed au, (Current plan for next milestone to recruit one reader's oc?) I

Wyll:

masquerade (Wyll x reader) meeting at a masquerade and falling in love I

Gale:

Untitled (Gale x reader). The netherbrain has been defeated and only the gods know if you'll survive the fall. W C

Untitled (Gale x reader), you are low on magic items, so you look for alternatives to help your wizard crush. W S

this kiss https://youtu.be/d-QO55xmS5A?si=8Zup_Dgz0iroNNgt W F

Jaheira:

Untitled (Jaheira x reader) sequel of dinner is served. S I

Shadowheart:

Untitled. (Shadowheart x reader) there's only one goddess in the shar temple until you kneel betweet her legs and the Lady of Loss is forgotten. S W

Laezel:

Shattered. (Lae'zel x reader). Vlaakith broke her heart, and it's you that has to pick up the pieces. C W

Halsin:

tbt

Minsc:

tbt

Other:

request (Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD) W

request (Could you do a separate scenario thing with the companions(Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel) The scenario I was thinking of is Tav who’s married to the companions(separate) is arguing with their child in another room about Uno.) W

[tadpoleatemybrain]

Peer Review

Modern Professor Ancunin au Post canon unromanced spawnstarion au

Summary: If you don't want to get called out in front of your class you probably shouldn't lie through your fangs

Words: <1k

Genre: Humor

TW: Character death mention

Thanks to @mutxnts for the idea!

The moment Astarion entered the building he caught the glances in his direction and conversations that seemed to quiet as he walked past. What a wonderful way to begin his day, with rumors circulating about him. Not that it was terribly uncommon for that to occur. Given that he was an almost eight-hundred-year-old vampire and taught an entire class that mostly consisted of reading his old journal entries, there was plenty to gossip about.

Well, that and Astarion not exactly being the most "stereotypical" of professors. Not that he saw anything negative about any of it. Spiced things up at least, hells, academia could be so boring without gossip. It was also completely unavoidable.

Unlike a lot of the rumors, this one was quite a bit more substantial, and recent. It was the sort of rumor that didn't win him any points with administration or management. So it had to be addressed. The sooner, the better. No better time than his next history class.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, there's a rumor about me getting caught picking a lock. I want to cle-" Astarion began.

"Is it true?" One of his students piped up, cutting him off. Far too excited.

"I was getting to that!" He shot back, never a fan of being interrupted.

"Yes, it's true." The vampire confirmed. Intrigued chattering among the students.

"However, I need to clarify. It was my office. I forgot my keys and I didn't have time to track down maintenance. And I suppose I was curious if I still had the touch. Don't want to get rusty." The professor stated.

"Can you teach us?!" Another student asked.

"As fun as it would be to unleash thirty students with sticky fingers onto campus, no. I asked for that when I started and they almost reconsidered hiring me." That had been a fun conversation. The joke was on them because he has tenure now.

A wonderful little idea crossed his mind. None of his students really knew much about his skills. Anyone who could argue against anything he said had either passed on or didn't care enough to counter him. His writings had bias too, so even that would legitimize his claims.

So why not have some fun with it?

"You know back in my rogue days, there was hardly a thing in Faerún I couldn't open. Doors, chests, shackles, mouths…and other things." The word he wanted to say was 'legs', but that would get him into even more trouble. Astarion just couldn't be fucked to sit through another meeting regarding 'professionalism'.

"So honestly, I'm only embarrassed that I took long enough to get caught. I must be slipping." He sighed. They seemed to believe him hook, line, and sinker.

What no one could have anticipated, even Astarion, was what happened next. A noise akin to static filled the room. The vampire was on guard, believing something was intending to harm either him or his students. This would be a challenge, he wasn't armed.

"Hello, class. Pardon my interupption." That voice was familiar. At first, Astarion thought this might be some sort of prank, but someone would have to be one hell of an impressionist to mimic this voice so accurately.

"This is his former party member The Wizard of Waterdeep, Professor Gale Dekarios of Blackstaff Academy. I'm reaching out to you via the weave to inform you this man is a liar. A massive liar, in fact. You shouldn't believe a word out of his mouth. I can hardly count the number of chests he failed to open and traps he failed to disarm." It had to be Gale. No one could nail that speech pattern. Immediately offended noises spewed out of the vampire. His ears went back like a cat's.

"…500 years I don't hear a word from you, and now you want to pop in for a guest lecture?!" And now of all times too. No other lecture had been grounds for an interruption before. Clearly, Gale must have taken it as quite an egregious lie to correct. How he had even found out was a good question, one the vampire likely wouldn't get an answer to.

"More like peer review really." Gale replied. The students couldn't contain their laughter. It wasn't every day that they got to see their professor get fact-checked from beyond the grave.

"What kind of an instructor lies so boldly to their own students? For shame Dr. Ancunin." Gale made a tsking noise. Astarion could imagine the head shaking.

"Everyone, ignore the disembodied voice of an annoying wizard. Who are you going to believe? Me, your professor or-" He gestured around them.

"A voice in the air?"

"Would a projection help?" Gale asked. It did feel a bit strange to be arguing with a voice. A projection might actually be nice.

"You know what, I'm not cleaning your gravestone anymore. Best of luck to Tara." Astarion shot back.

"I told you, he lies." It was a lie. A hollow threat, and they both knew it.

"Now get out, I have a class to teach!" Astarion huffed and gestured dismissively. Already knowing there was absolutely no way this class was getting back on track.

"Damn wizard." He muttered. Yet, there was a smile on his face. How nice it was to hear from an old friend again. Though Astarion would have preferred different circumstances, it did suit them. Perhaps it might not be the last time either.

[samsa-hates-reading]

Chapter 10 of my Shadowheart x original female character fic.

Freeing Elara from the tadpole's influence is one thing, but can Shadowheart find a way to feel safe around Elara while they fought their common enemy, the Absolute?

A retelling of who became Shar's Chosen.

[rinwellisathing]

Fanfic self-rec!

Tagged by @vialae ! Much appreciated! Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love

My fics focus on my BG 3 OCs, but mainly Sentry Ojeda, who is a trans-masc tiefling Durge, an artist, and hopelessly in love with Enver Gortash. The other OCs include Jaina Thalassia (a magical education toddler teacher from a pirate island), Kroger of Creche K'liir (A highly anxious but brilliant Ghustil in training born from the same clutch as Lae'zel), Octavia of Creche K'liir (A scholar and researcher bringing intel home to her people, a childhood friend of Lae'zel also from the same clutch), and Jackal Silk (A drow Bhaalspawn with a dark past who escaped his life in Menzoberranzan to become a notorious serial killer in Baldur's Gate). My fics also deal a lot with Orin and Durge's relationship as well as the Bhaalist family in general. My main ships include: Durgetash Wyll/Tav Karlach/Tav Gale/Tav Halsin/Durge Astarion/Durge And then I do my best to work in my favorite origin on origin ships too. I am a trans masc author, so Sentry takes center stage normally (but in fairness there are a lot of cis characters out there so I feel he and other trans OCs deserve their due.)

You're Awful, I love you:

The Fic that started it all: Sentry Ojeda is suffering from artist's block after finishing his latest work and on top of that, his authority as Chosen of Bhaal is called into question more often than he'd like by a few of his siblings. A chance meeting with a handsome arms dealer, Enver Gortash, seems to solve both problems....at least for a time. Durgetash, Trans-male Durge, Tiefling Durge, WARNING! This fic does include breeding including pregnancy, this fic also deals with canon typical trauma. Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh:

The sequel to "You're Awful, I Love You", Sentry travels with a party of adventurers in search of a cure for the wriggling passenger in his brain. He has little to no memory of his recent life except the face of a man he can't stop drawing. Before that, he knows he was a paladin of Ilmater and fortunately it seems the spirit of his mentor and mother figure is there to guide him, but she may not be what she seems. Durgetash, Durgestarion, Halsin/Durge, Wyll/Tav, traces of Wyllach and Karlach/Tav, hints of Shadowzel, Zevlor/Durge, Gale/Tav, hints of Halstarion, Addresses trauma a bit more deeply than the previous fic. It's A Thankless Job:

Modern AU: Sentry Ojeda thinks he's finally found a place he belongs in the Bhaal family, one of the city's most powerful crime families, but when his favorite older brother dies under mysterious circumstances, Sentry is brought face to face with his brother's ex, Enver Gortash, and finds himself dragged into political machinations and a love triangle with a handsome and concerned veterinarian. Meanwhile, Wyll Ravengard is struggling to keep up with one partner's medical expenses and another partner's trauma, and if that wasn't enough on one person's plate, the solution to both seems to be to run for office against Enver Gortash, a far more experienced politician. COMING SOON! Papa Bhaal's House of Horrors: A 70's/80's horror AU: Welcome to Moonrise County, a little slice of country just outside the sprawling metropolis that is Baldur's Gate, and none too far from the smaller urban setting of Elturel! Come check out the scenic forests and hollows that make our county beautiful, stop into Blurg and Omeluum's Herbal Emporium for something to take the edge off, have a night cap at The Waning Moon...Just try not to break down out on the road and try not to be outside when night falls. You never know what's hiding in the hills.

I tag @dm-dragonpuff @iron-bullogna and @dm-dragonpuff in return!

[potatoesandsunshine]

what if i spent two months borrowing/stealing/looting magical artifacts to act as shock paddles to keep my wizard alive and you were the wizard on the cusp of giving up on everything who found a spark of something worth living for in me... and we're both bisexual...

[femslashhistorian]

3 Great Lae'zel/Shadowheart AUs (femslash fic rec)

Shadowheart and Lae'zel are two characters (companions) from the roleplaying video/computer game Baldur's Gate 3. Their ship name is Shadow'zel and there is a good amount of femslash (F/F) fanfiction for this ship on AO3: Lae'zel/Shadowheart (link)

The three fics I've picked for this fic rec share a few common themes: They are modern setting AUs and fit broadly speaking into enemies to lovers category. Plus: there is a bonus (non AU) rec.

You don't need to know anything about the game's canon to enjoy these fics and there is no danger that you might get any spoilers for BG3. Of course, it is helpful if you have seen a few pics / gifs / snippets to get a feeling for the vibes between Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

(There is also an interesting short article about what Shadowheart's voice actress things about this ship.)

I really love their dynamics in these three fics and the tension and bickering are delicious.

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Mrs and Mrs K'llir by justasimplelesbian

Complete, 1 chapter, 22k words, 2024

Teen and up; Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Summary: Mr and Mrs Smith AU

Shadowheart and Lae'zel is the focus, Astarion, Karlach, and Gale all make like very minimal appearances.

Note: there is an additional smut chapter (in a separate fic): link

I guess technically you might get spoilers rather for the movie Mr and Mrs Smith (2005) than for BG3.

But to be honest is has been many years since I saw the movie and thus, I don't know how closely the plot of the fic follows the plot of the movie (according to the author's notes it is pretty close). What I do know is that the author did a great job to fit Shadowheart and Lazel into this AU and a few other BG companions also show up and fit in perfectly as well.

This fic is probably the most literal enemies to lovers fic of the three, as they actually get to fight each other, however technically they start as a married couple.

I really enjoyed this fic. Highly recommended.

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the gith in 14G by yeahitshowed

Complete, 1 chapter, 3k words, 2024

Teen and up; No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

The door swings open just as Shadowheart slams her fist forward to knock again; the apartment’s occupant, a githyanki woman in workout gear, catches Shadowheart’s wrist to avoid being decked in the face. “Whatever you aim to sell me,” the githyanki says testily, “I hold no interest, and I dearly hope whatever two-bit company you shill for files for bankruptcy.”

“Are you being murdered?” Shadowheart says, yanking her wrist free. “Or possibly doing the murdering?”

The githyanki cocks her head. Each of her long ears sports a line of piercings; the little hoops clink together. “Hm. A unique sales strategy. I will listen to your pitch if you speak quickly.”

-

Modern AU; Shadowheart moves into a new apartment, and the githyanki next door is infuriatingly loud.

Told mostly from Shadowheart's POV, the author did a tremendous job to capture her frustration and annoyance towards Lae'zel. Switching the POV in the last scene to Wyll is working very well. What Shadowheart does to pay it back to Lae'zel is kind of relatable and also very funny.

Loved the fic. Highly recommended.

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put her canine teeth in the side of my neck by yeahitshowed

Complete, 1 chapter, 3k words, 2024

General Audiences; No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

“Hey!” shouts an unfamiliar voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Maintaining her grip on the wriggling German Shepherd, Lae’zel looks up. A woman’s stalking over from the benches, arms tightly crossed over a deeply un-dog-park-like goth getup.

“Thwarting an unsportsmanlike assault,” Lae’zel says. “The dirty one baselessly attacked – ”

“Yes, she’s playing,” the woman says. “How dare she. Can you let go of my dog?”

-

Meeting at a dog park, Lae'zel and Shadowheart's dogs are instant pals. (Lae'zel and Shadowheart, not so much.)

In contrast to the other two fics, the enemies to lovers aspects are handled without violence, however this does not mean that the bickering is not deliciously strong. A nice change of pace and a very cute fic. The names of the dogs also gave me a good chuckle. Highly recommended.

Also check out the cute fan art that inspired the fic.

----

Bonus rec: non AU

to feel love (like a sinner) by mermaiddrunk

Complete, 1 chapter, 9k words, 2024

Explicit; No Archive Warnings Apply

Lae’zel’s breath grows heavy. “You feel it too?”

“Yes.”

“Tsk’va!” Lae’zel swears even as the knowledge makes her sick with lust. “I believe we have been poisoned. The wizard’s confections—”

Shadowheart lets out a small manic laugh devoid of any real humour. “It’s not poison,” she says with a trembling voice. “I think they were aphrodisiacs. I assume one or two are sufficient to do the job.” Lae’zel isn’t sure if Shadowheart is going to laugh or cry when she says, “We ate an entire bag.”

Note: There is also fan art inspired by the fic (tumblr)

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Notes:

This was cross-posted to tumblr and my WordPress blog. Check it out for more femslash fanfic recs.

Image credits:

Pexels from Pixabay

Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay 1 2

Ralf Seemann from Pixabay

[daryfromthefuture]

✨️five fics self-promo!

i was tagged by @bg-sparrow like 20 days ago but forgot. figured now (1 am) was the perfect time to do this 😎

"Until I Get Home" (100K, G, Complete) marty and doc get stranded in 1885 for two additional years after the train plot fails. comes with shenanigans such as alcohol, scarlet fever, and lots, lots of hurt/comfort dad doc moments!! i've honestly been feeling a lot of nostalgia for it lately, and i'm very glad that i still like this fic no matter that i wrote it with 15/16 and not the best english out there. it's my baby.

"Most People Were Silent" (45K, T, Complete) 40s doc fic featuring marty being stuck in the decade, and adding fun ocs to all the main historical events! now has a completed sequel and is getting a threequel, which is in progress right now. i like it because i think the writing did my idea justice, and it's a bit of a different thing than i usually do.

"The Perils And The Promise" (57K, T, Complete) speaking of different things!! this right here is a rewrite of jules verne's "around the world in 80 days" with the bttf characters in the main roles! i'm putting it on the list because i just finished it yesterday. it's definitely niche stuff, but i had lots of fun writing it :]

"Time Waits For No One" (10K, G, One-shot) i LOVE sickfics, so writing this one was, once again, a blast! marty is really the punching bag of this fandom, huh. this one has marty getting pneumonia after arriving in 1885 and doc having to modify their plans concerning their way home, clara, the festival, and buford tannen.

"Flight Of Fancy" (6K, T, One-shot) a character study of doc brown, kind of focusing on his relationship with science and his dream of achieving time travel when taking into account several events that are (*cough cough* bob gaLE) canon (poor dude). this was a spur of the moment fic, and i really liked diving into doc's mind for a bit!!

thank you for the tag!! gonna tag @bri-to-the-future , @stillpreoccupiedwith1985 and whoever else wants to participate <3

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (14)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 /

Created: February 9th, 2024

Last Checked:—-

Baby It's Cold Outside-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Katniss needs help on a cold night and the only person she can get on the phone is Peeta, a guy she's had a couple classes with. He's more than willing to come to the rescue!

Cheese Buns and Garlic Cakes-winryofresembool (ao3) Summary: Peeta finally gets a chance to talk with his childhood crush when she shows up at his door to sell some ingredients for his pastries.

If We Met Up at Midnight-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: Had the messenger arrived a day earlier, he would have been greeted by a yellow flag above our door, and had to turn back, summons undelivered. The odds, however, are not in my favor.

In the Background-deinde_prandium (ao3) Summary: "But every so often he’ll touch her hand, or brush a wisp of hair out of her face, or something equally intimate that makes her feel like her heart is going to stop, and she has to to remind herself of where she is. Either this Peeta guy is flirting with her, or he’s too good of an actor to be doing BG gigs." Katniss and Peeta are movie extras who meet on a film set. Based on a tumblr prompt.

Intimate Bystander-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss said it was just for the cameras. Gale believed her until he discovered she screams for Peeta in the night. In the days before the Quarter Quell, Gale finds out there’s more to Katniss’s relationship with Peeta than she’s led him to believe. In-Panem, mostly Canon. Everlark Fic Exchange, Springtime Edition, Prompt 1 – Gale walks in on/eavesdrops/overhears Everlark being intimate.

Okay. Sure. If You Want To.-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: “You’ve never even touched yourself?”

Positive-rarepairheathen (ao3) Summary: In AU Panem after Katniss winner of the 74th reality TV show “The Hunger Games” she finds herself in a world of trouble.

Reunion-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: A kidnapped but not hijacked District 13 Everlark reunion

Strange Things Did Happen Here-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: In The Hanging Tree Universe-Katniss seeks out Haymitch for answers.

The Oktoberfest Effect-Alliswell (ao3) Summary: Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) by @567inpanem for Seasons of Everlark on Tumblr.

[profoundlyfaded]

WIP Folder Game

RULES: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Thanks @gale-force-storm

Now, my WIP is all in a handwritten journal and I type it up as the second draft and edit and publish, and at present my WIP Journal consists of snippets from what might one day be Songs, Swords and Sorcery. I’ve always written like this for creative work, there is a synergy for me between pen and paper - honestly, my relationship with reading, writing and music is a large part of why I am so often a Bard in rpg when allowed!

So what snippets do I have?

All of them are from the Ayressa Aedihle playthrough as this is my canon Tav.

So we have, in order of my journal -

- Gale and Ayressa discussing Netherese Magic found in Balthazar’s Study.

- Ayressa musing on vampires in the wild (and a reduction in her magical abilities)- post finding the boar but before discovering Astarion (although headcanon wise, she has encountered Astarion in BG and knows exactly who he is).

- Gale and Ayressa ‘then live’ which is adaptation of her convincing Gale not to become a God. Actually I really love this-

- ’It’s beautiful, but is it truly living? The passion and pain of life is a blessing but is it something that is felt here or is this just mere existence? I want to live, Gale, not rule over a dominion. I want you as you are now, as you will be in ten, twenty years from now. I don’t need a God.’

- Gale musing on Ayressa’s exes. Actually hilariously savage, I think.

- Meeting Jaheira - and some context here, Ayressa and Jaheira are ‘old friends’ and it’s at this point Ayressa’s secret is revealed to the gang. I love this segment,

- It segways into a scene where Ayressa gets grilled from everyone about her secret (which is that she is a hugely famous Bard known as The White Nightingale whom most of the gang have seen perform/heard of) and further revelations about what she does in her spare time (she’s an investigator in the city which is how she knows Jaheira)

- Then moves into an impromptu second magic lesson with Gale and their first kiss (look, with writing fic, let’s face it, we can still have a slow burn with a little more burn)

- Astarion and Ayressa arguing over her hunting him a number of times in the last 150 years - all of Cazador’s spawn really. Not really hunting them but looking for their various victims - how dare she.

- The Act Two romance scene adapted for the fanfic.

- A snippet from a post BG3 idea involving Gale being kidnapped and a very furious Ayressa.

- Ayressa musing on Gale’s actual surname.

- A snippet from post BG3 of Ayressa meeting Morena Dekarious.

- Snippet AU for Ayressa where she is not Tav, but her history largely plays out the same however Ayressa’s paladin sister Torhana is Tav. Torhana is searching for Ayressa to help them and lets Astarion pick her lock earning a crossbow bold to the shoulder. ‘I was expecting cultists.’

- Ayressa trying to find out more about the Orb from Gale.

- Gale visiting Ayressa’s home for the first time (where she has an even more interesting secret to share) (Act 3 - post attempting to heist the book)

- Ayressa attempting to lull the Orb with her magic when it’s clear Gale is struggling to hold on.

Quite a lot of disjointed stuff here.

I’m kinda new to the fandom and don’t have many folk in following so please play along without invite :)

[daryfromthefuture]

fic author self rec

tagged by @bg-sparrow!! thank you :D

also this was like FOREVER ago and then i forgot about it so apologies for the delay hfdjsfgdhjfasj

share five favorites of your own work, then tag five fic authors to do the same - okay, let's go

Until Get Home

When the train plot goes horribly wrong, Marty McFly and Doc Brown are stranded in 1885. How will they manage to adapt to a time so foreign to their own? Will they be able to preserve the space-time-continuum? And, most importantly: How will their adventures in the past impact their relationship?

you know this HAD to be the number one. i cannot pour my life and soul into a 100K word fanfic and not have it be my number one LMAO. but seriously, this fanfic means a lot to me. it helped me get through my first months in a foreign country, connected me with awesome friends and had me gain a massive appreciation for bttf part 3 (i love that part even more than i already have and watching it reminds me of this fic). i am also proud that this story carries some valuable messages and developes doc and marty even more. it was wonderful writing this, and it's also my first major story i finished. this is a love letter to bttf and bttf 3 in particular in form of a...well, book.

2. Most People Were Silent

Marty McFly had been stranded in the 1940s for a year, living with the younger version of his best friend, Emmett Brown. When Doc unexpectedly gets invited to join a secret scientific project, Marty and Emmett move to a small town in New Mexico. After meeting various new people and making his own acquaintaces while Doc works, Marty learns how vital it is to stay quiet - for the sake of everyone's safety. But not everyone has the same view...

is it wrong to put a not-yet-finished work on this list? maybe, but i, quite frankly, do not care because i adore this story. it had me come up with silly little ocs and throws me into a setting that interests me (i am a major history nerd and a way to connect it with my favorite character? YES PLEASE). and just wait until you see what happens next - you will definitely get why this is on second place >:)

on a side note, this universe is getting an expansion and becoming a trilogy, which i have titled "the trinity trilogy". writing this will kill me but i am so ready

3. In The Shadow Of The Mushroom Cloud

this fic doesnt have a summary, but it's my part of the "Stuck Through Time(lines)" - collab project we did in the discord server! once again a manhattan project doc fic with a different basic concept than my main one. this one was SO fun to write. i poured out those 12k words in like five days. i want that kind of motivation back, please. also i get to do what bob gale only dreams of and blow up the delorean

please also read the other contributions to this challenge!! all of the authors are so talented and i love their work :D

4. Winter of '84

Doc takes Marty to the doctor when Marty comes down with the flu.

i love me a good bttf prequel fic, and sickfic is one of my favorite tropes, so i was super shocked when i found out that the bttf fandom had like. zero of those. before winter of '84, there was november, but that's a post-trilogy fic, so it doesn't count lol. i'm proud of this one because it's just a cute piece of slice of life fluff, and i think it captures doc and marty's friendship super well.

5. Double Visions

Marty and Doc return from 1931, but Doc doesn't know half of the story.

a bttf: the game fic holy shit

i had wanted to write something of this kind ever since i first played the game in february 2021. as you can see, it only took me like, two years, but i did it! and i think it's great in the way that it covers everything i had in mind for this scene while not stretching itself. i loved writing the dialogue and emotional stuff for this story and like rereading it occasionally :)

i would like to tag...everyone who hasn't been tagged before. i have lost track.

thanks for the ask bg!!

[lynnlovesthestars]

I FINISHED YAY.. go n see it for yourself.. AO3

Masterlist- Baldur's Gate 3.

Hello my stars, since my brain went from somewhat sane to "How can I live without Astarion" I decided to put everything I've been posting in a masterpost.

Also I'm opening my requests, right now I'll be writing only about Baldur's Gate, but later I might venture in other fandoms. At the bottom of this masterpost, I'll leave the requests rules.

This being said, whether you are here to look for a treat, or to request your fantasies, what can I do for you?

My prompt list. (currently under maintenance)

Kofi, for those who'd like to tip!

dd:dne infos for those who might be interested in finding out how it works.

Requests questions!

Taglist form. for those who wants to get tagged.

Other places where you can find me:

@ask-karlachbear (karlach rp blog)

@wisterialynn (my oc rp account)

Astarion Acunin:

Scars: Astarion x Reader. Angst. Set in act 3. "When your fears catch up to you"

Blood: Astarion x Reader. Part 2 of scars. Angst, fluff. Set in act 3. "How long does it take to heal those scars?"

One and Only. Astarion x Reader. Smut, fluff, lil of angst. Post act 3. "No one will ever love me like you do"

The sun, the moon and the stars. Astarion x Reader. part 2 of One and Only. Angst, fluff, smut (kinda). Post act 3. "When he thought he couldn't ask for more, you gave him back his freedom."

I wandered lonely as a cloud. Astarion x reader. Hurt, comfort, fluff, eventual smut. Set in act 2. "Let's pretend just for a few hours that we are okay, that we fell in love."

Why? Astarion x reader. Angst, hurt/ comfort, something similar to fluff. "Why? Why? Why?"

-Tick, tack, ah.- Astarion x OC (Lynn). Hurt no comfort.

Amygdala- Astarion x OC (Lynn). fluff, angst, a bit of confort?. "pain comes in many ways"

Serendipity - Astarion x OC (Lynn) fluff?. "astarion was supposed to have a meal and ended up catching feelings- or something like that."

Golden- Astarion x Tiefling!reader. angsty?, lots of thinking, self-doubt, avoidance. "the huge tear in his shirt caught your eye again, and you decided to give him a reminder that someone cared about him." (somewhat pt 2 of "Why")

Karlach Cliffgate:

Bedsheets. Karlach x reader. Requested. Fluff. Post act 3. Ticklish adventure.

Wyll Ravengard:

Sleepless. Wyll x Reader. Smut, fluff if you squint. "Everyone is asleep, and all he can think about is not next to him."

Headcanon: anal. Smut.

Gale Dekarios:

Arabella - Songfic, fluff. Prompt: 169 “Oh, fuck. Do that again.” 

Shadowheart:

TBA

Lae'zel:

TBA

Halsin:

TBA

Zevlor, Rolan, Dammon:

TBA

Jaheira:

TBA

Minsc:

TBA

Withers, The emperor/ Dream Guardian::

TBA

Isobel & Dame Aylin:

TBA

Raphael & Harleep, Mizora:

TBA

Alfira & Lakrissa:

TBA

Z'rell, Orin The Red, Durge, Enver Gortash:

TBA

Request rules:

My requests are currently open, of course there's some rules I'd like to enforce so all of the readers, as well as me, are comfortable.

-no nsfw from anons or ageless accs

-no abuse from the romantic interest with the intent of having them fall in love (I see you Stockholm syndrome lovers, but this is not the place), while the mcs trying to murder each other before kissing it's our fav trope here, abuse it's not.

-no dubcon or noncon

-no b3stiality, no inc3st, or minors characters, even if aged up.

-and yk the usual do not interact warnings.

-can definitely use prompts, one liners, tropes, whatever comes to your mind for the request, and I'll try my best to fulfill them.

Navigation tags:

#lynn: updates ☆ (updates on what im working on, or published content)

#ask: lynn ☆ (answers to the asks I get)

#lynn: i wandered lonely as a cloud (ff related tag)

#vault: lynn ☆ (what I posted)

#asklynn☆: request (requests fulfilled)