#bg3 minific

[littlelostmabari]

I went off script. I needed to procrastinate.

Ok look. So, and stay with me here, @miradelletarot posted a kiss roulette and then @waterdeep-weavemoss posted an ask and I realized that Mira might want to read snippets instead of getting asks so I asked an RNG to give me a prompt and I got #21 first but I dun wanna choose that’s why I wanted a RNG in the first place!!!!!11!!

So I asked again and here is #5: "A firm kiss". Not beta read, written in an hour, so forgive me if there are typos.

Pairing: Gale x gn!Reader (undescribed other than you're shorter than Gale)

Wordcount: 1k

CW: Blood, wounds, all the gross things you find in Orin's temple. Spoilers for Act 3.

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

The pounding in your head is the first thing you notice as consciousness enters your mind. The pounding of your head, and then rapidly the smell of refuse and blood. The stone slab that served as your place of rest was uncomfortable at best, and the lack of support to your hips and neck and knees offers secondary pain. The next sensation was skin rubbed raw against your wrists and ankles, and those superficial wounds were the first things that were tingling as Shadowheart’s sixth level Heal poured into the cracks and aches and throbbing pain. Your eyes still refused to open, your body denying the trauma of your incarceration.

“They're okay!” you hear Karlach shout from somewhere to your right, as a blast of heat rolls over you from the same direction. You’d fixed her arcane engine, so it couldn’t have been your dearest tiefling friend approaching. “They're okay! Fringe’s got em!” Another blast, and this time, as you roll a parched tongue over cracked lips, you can taste the sweet smell of the Weave being summoned into a raging conflagration. This time you hear the noise of something exploding, and your eyes fling open at the threat. Your vision is occupied by the darkness of a high ceiling, but a wisp of silver draws your attention to the left where Shadowheart has her eyes closed in concentration. One hand is on your exposed stomach, the sensation of which slowly enters your mind; the other hand is raised with palm pressed forward in prayer, wrapped in Selûne’s white glow. 

You realize that your breaths have been shallow, but something in your lung expands under the cleric’s care, and your first deep breath enters your lungs. With it is the smell of death and decay, and the familiar stench of the undercity. The rattling of your breath coincides with the final stages of the spell, and Shadowheart opens her eyes to meet yours. There are tears mussing her eyeliner, the black staining against her pale skin and framed by her paler hair. She collapses on top of you with a sob, her arms pulling your head into her shoulder. Aches and bruises that the Heal could not reach cry out as you snake your arms around her as well, clutching her tightly. 

Stomping feet approach from your right, and Shadowheart releases you gently. A month ago she would have shied from such emotion, but there was tenderness in her gaze that hesitantly left your face and looked up. You follow, and Karlach is there with a grin and a hearty slap on Shadowheart’s shoulder. The wince on Shadowheart’s face evokes a chuckle from deep in your belly which only results in more aches. With Karlach’s help, you finally sit up on the stone slab, and then stand. Your feet slough through the remnants of the battle, and the remnants of Orin’s armor and jewelry fail to catch your notice as he sprints up the stairs, Wyll following quickly behind. 

Gale stops at the precipice, out of your arms reach, staring. His mouth is open, and if you were on firmer footing you would have made a joke about him being speechless. You can see the tears in his robe, the scorch marks from where the battle has taken its toll on his person. The smell behind you suggests your evocation wizard had destroyed the very memory of this place with a pair of upcast Fireballs. You can see his mind working, his eyes darting to your face and then to your ripped leathers, your bare feet and your hair matted with blood and bile. There is an intense quiet as the others watch, waiting for the ice to break. 

“I’m okay,” you finally cough, though your lungs rattle with the effort. “I’ll need some help getting back but —” 

He closes the distance before you can finish your sentence. One hand frames your right cheek, the other tangles itself in your hair at the back of your head, and his lips are on yours. Your hands unwrap from holding yourself and clamber desperately to feel him, whining as fingers find his robes and bury themselves. The kiss is bruising against your cracked lips, and you are filthy from your captivity, but Gale shows no sign of minding. His words from the Underdark echo in your mind, and you realize that this isn’t about seeing you in battle but the fact that he thought you were dead and you’re not and you’re alive and you’re kissing him. The hand from your cheek slides down your shoulder and your arm and finds its place on your hip where he digs fingers into your side. It hurts, but it is a pain you find yourself desiring because it means he’s there in front of you and you are well enough to hold him. 

This was a far cry from his normal gentle touches, quiet murmurings, easy loving moments. You realize that you had heard the clatter of his staff against the stones, a sin he would have barked at you for performing only a ten-day ago. He had not broached your lips with his tongue, and you found yourself desperate for even the rotten air of the cavern, given the way he was pressed so firmly against your body. When you finally could bear the lack of breath no longer, you unwrap your fingers from his robes and press palms against his chest. A gentle push and he releases your lips and pulls back, refusing to move his hands from your nape and your hip. His eyes dart between yours with concern and fear. 

“My love,” he whispers. It comes out as a low whine. You feel your mouth pulling up into a soft smile, and your head tilts gently to the side. Your cheek presses against his bloodied wrist and you close your eyes, taking solace in the simple fact that the two of you stand together. Alone, as it turns out, as Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll are on their way out of the temple to soothe their own wounds. 

You feel Gale’s arm slide along your cheek until his elbow is crooked around the back of your head and you are gathered in the safety of his chest. His neck stretches up until his chin can rest on the top of your head, and you both take several deep breaths until your hearts are settled. 

Pain and aches will fade, your cracked lips will heal, and the blood will wash away. Eventually. For now, though, you are whole. 

[blackjackkent]

Three billion other things I need to do today but this idea popped into my head (again - I've thought about it before) and decided to stay until I wrote it.

-----

"Ahhh, look, boss!" Karlach grins widely, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she trots along at Gortash's side. "What are those? Are they made of sugar?"

Gortash sighs, against his will turning to follow his bodyguard's eyeline. She's spotted a new merchant at the edge of the Wide, a brightly colored stall decorated in glimmering strands of magic and crepe. The cherub-cheeked gnome standing there does, indeed, seem to be selling some confection or other - artistically heaped piles of spun sugar in a variety of hues.

"It seems so," he says curtly, shrugging off Karlach's excitement.

This doesn't bother her. Gortash often seems immune to the wonders of the Gate and the vast variety of people and sights that crop up in every corner of the city. It's his one failing as a boss, but that's all right; Karlach can make up for both of them in enthusiasm.

"Aw, man," she says cheerfully. "I gotta give that a try." She continues her steady scan of the market around them, watching for any unexpected movement, any possible threat. But the Wide, as always, is merely a chaotic tapestry of perfectly normal people going about their lives. There's no danger here, not today.

Gortash comes to a halt outside one of the large buildings on the edge of the market square. No moveable stall, this, but one of the big permanent shops - a staid-looking facade of brick and polished wood with a sign over the door that reads "Hammond and Sons - Bespoke Garments."

"Wait here," he tells her briskly. "No customers come in before I'm done having a word with Daniel."

She grins crookedly. Having a word can mean a lot of things. Judging by Gortash's expression, in this case it means Daniel Hammond is about to be having a bad day. "What'd he do? Sew your seams too tight?"

"That is none of your concern," Gortash says sharply. "Suffice to say that Saer Hammond's trade is in far more than cloth goods, and that he has attempted to deal dishonestly with me."

"Ahhh..." Karlach nods. "Right, boss. I'll see you have your privacy." She flips him a jaunty salute and leans up against the fence that marks the edge of Hammond's property.

He disappears into the building, and she settles in to wait, absently fidgeting with the handle of the heavy axe strapped to her back. The way these things usually run, she'll likely be waiting at least an hour - which is fine by her. The Wide is one of her favorite places in the city, always moving and changing, and it's her job to watch it and take in every detail.

Couldn't be luckier, she thinks, scratching the back of her neck with a contented sigh. And hey, maybe on the way out, I'll see if I can buy one of those--

"Oof!" She grunts as a figure comes tumbling out of a nearby knot of people passing by and slams into her, dropping the pack he's carrying with a heavy thump.

The man stumbles backwards. "Ow. I-- so sorry," he mumbles sheepishly. "Someone knocked into me."

Karlach looks him over with idle curiosity; he doesn't seem hurt but doesn't quite meet her eyes. He's not exactly the usual clientele of the Wide - lithe and muscular, clothed in sober, form-fitting robes with an icon of the moon at the shoulder. Priestly type of some sort; Baldur's Gate has no shortage of nearby temples and monasteries.

"No problem," she says casually. "Gotta watch your feet around this place and no mistake. You all right?"

He clears his throat, straightening up. "A trifle lost," he says. "But otherwise yes."

She grins. "Don't get around here much, huh?" She can tell by the look in his eyes. He must be late thirties, but has the nervous attitude of a kid on his own in the city for the first time.

He smiles ruefully. "Is it so obvious?"

"Nah, only a little." A lot, really, but she's not gonna be a dick about it.

Karlach laughs softly to herself.

"Something I can help you find?" she asks. "If you were hoping for clothes, I'm afraid this place is closed right now." She jerks her head to indicate the shop she's guarding.

He clears his throat and fumbles for the pack that he dropped. "Ah, no - just trying to find my way out," he says mildly. "If you can point me in the direction of the northwest road, I'd be very grateful."

You can always tell 'south' by where the harbor is, or west if you're down in the Lower, she starts to explain eagerly- then stops herself. He doesn't care about all that, surely. Gortash has told her more than once that she needs to stop answering with fifty words when two will do. "Yeah - just up that way," she says, pointing past him. "Two rights'll put you on the main road; you can't miss it."

His expression brightens visibly with relief. "Ah... thank you so much," he says, hoisting the pack back over his shoulder. "Selune's grace follow you."

It's a blessing, clearly, but she isn't sure how to respond to it, so she just grins awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. You too, mate!"

He turns and walks away up the road, and she laughs softly to herself, watching the curious figure disappear back into the crowd. For all the things her childhood might have lacked, dirt-poor as they were, she certainly never lacked for experience that way; she's been running around every corner of the Gate practically since she could walk. Kind of funny, really, to remember that there are plenty of people that don't feel this city in their blood.

Hope he finds his way home and no trouble finds him. Doesn't seem like the sort that'd handle it very well.

[keldae]

C. A moment’s respite.

The Last Light Inn was a small bastion of safety in the shadow-cursed lands, the darkness held at bay by Isobel's magic. It was a welcome reprieve for the party of adventurers seeking to take down the Absolute and the cultists in Moonrise Towers – the fairy’s blessing had provided protection from the shadows, but it still was good to have a safe harbour to retreat to.

Having tucked herself away in a corner, Devi sat on a rickety chair, watching the tieflings, the Harpers, and her friends mingling about the inn’s common room. Every once in a while, she could hear Karlach's laughter as she conversed with Dammon, or a shout as Wyll cleaned some other hapless dice player out of their gold with a good-natured grin. Yet her gaze kept travelling back to the wizard in the next seat, sipping on a cup of wine and intently reading a scroll that he had found on one of the bookshelves in the inn. Gale appeared to be completely lost in thought, a little furrow lining his brow, his hand sometimes abandoning his wine cup on the table to stroke his beard as he considered something.

It made for a lovely picture, the wizard so lost in thought, focused on the words before him and not on his surroundings. A man reading really shouldn’t have been that interesting – and yet, Devi found herself transfixed. Something about the angle of his brows, or the set of his jaw, or the way his long fingers moved in the lamp light made her want to study him, committing him to memory.

Because Mystra ordered him to become a memory, a little voice in her head muttered. When we find the Absolute, he's going to follow her damned orders to blow himself up taking it out. That made her look away, gazing into her own wine, lips pressed together tightly as though she could avoid having them tremble, betraying her feelings on the matter. Damn the gods for throwing them all into this predicament, and damn Mystra in particular.

A nudge to her side got her attention. Her heart leapt when she saw Gale's smile at her; he'd apparently lost focus on the scroll. “I'm surprised you're not playing against Wyll again,” he commented with a chuckle.

Devi snorted. “And lose even more gold pieces to him? That bastard’s too damn good at dice.”

Gale smirked. “Have you forsaken your goal of winning the pants off of him in payback?”

“It's taking a temporary pause. But I will say, if his left boot goes missing tonight, I had nothing to do with it. I'll get one of the tiefling kids to give me an alibi.”

That got another chuckle from Gale. “Ah, the mark of a wise criminal. As I would not like to have my own boots stolen in payback, rest assured, I'll keep your secrets intact.”

“Smart man.” Devi grinned and sipped her wine, then gestured to the scroll with her cup. “Find anything interesting in that?”

“Not as much useful information for our predicament as I'd hoped for, but it’s still very fascinating reading.” Gale looked back down at the scroll. “Apparently, if we can make our way to the cellar of the inn, we may be able to find a Selûnite refuge, hidden away from the Sharran Justiciars. The former innkeeper, before the shadow-curse took over, was apparently sympathetic to the Selûnites.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Devi nodded thoughtfully. “Shadowheart might get a laugh out of it, at least. I’m just happy she and Isobel haven’t had a spat yet.”

“Yet being the operative word,” Gale muttered. “Still, Shadowheart does recognize that not all of us have the protection that Shar lent her, or the pixie’s blessing, and Isobel is invaluable for everyone’s safety. Regardless of their… disagreements on their goddesses, they’ll keep the peace for now.”

Devi nodded again, watching as Gale rolled the scroll back up. “Sorry if I’m distracting you from your reading,” the thief said. “I know you love your books.”

“Think nothing of it,” Gale chuckled. “You are quite pleasant company to have around, even if you are quite a bit quieter than usual tonight. A gold piece for your thoughts?”

“That’s the most anyone’s ever offered to hear what’s in my head,” Devi laughed. She looked over at the sound of dice clattering, and Wyll gracefully accepting a rare loss with a seated bow to a triumphant-looking tiefling, raucous laughter drifting over to the corner. “My mind’s all over the place tonight. I’m just…” Thinking about you and how unfair it is that Mystra’s ordered you to your death. No goddess deserves that level of devotion! Forgiveness isn’t worth that much. “I’m thinking about how good it is to see everyone relaxed and safe for the moment.”

“It is pleasant to see,” Gale agreed, looking away from Devi to survey the rest of the inn’s common room. “Would that we could see this more frequently, with everything happening to us. The tadpoles, the Absolute…” He shrugged. “But it could be argued that the rarity of these moments of respite make them that much more valuable, when we do get them. We more fully appreciate them.”

“I think I’d appreciate them fully, even if we got them more regularly,” Devi grumbled. She heard Gale chuckle, then looked back at the wizard. “So… found any more interesting reading?” Usually any books that she found while exploring were immediately handed to Gale or Shadowheart – Devi could read, but she struggled in making sense of the markings on the pages. She lacked Gale’s ability to easily comprehend the written words. Education was more valued for a wizard prodigy and not a back-alley Baldurian thief.

“Quite a bit,” Gale said with a smile. “I have a small library growing in my tent from the books that we’ve found on our travels. If you would like, I could read some of them to you.”

“Would you?” Devi perked up, interested by that prospect. “Any chance that book you mentioned about, uh, stimulation is in your library?”

Gale chuckled. “Alas, no – that particular book is in my tower in Waterdeep. However, I do have a few other tomes in my collection here that may be of interest to you.”

“Consider me intrigued,” Devi said with a grin. She finished off her wine, watching Gale set his own empty cup on the table. “Shall we go investigate?”

“Precisely where my thoughts were, my dear.” Gale grinned and stood up, offering her his arm like a proper gentleman. “We’ll leave the others to their revelry for now. Time spent with you is always a pleasurable experience.”

“Even when we’re both covered in blood and gods-know-what?” Devi laughed and took Gale’s arm, letting the wizard lead her out of the inn and back towards the party’s camp, set up on the lawn outside – all the rooms in the inn had been claimed by Harpers or tieflings.

“Even then.” Gale’s smile made Devi’s heart skip a beat. “Although a peaceful moment like this is always preferable.” “You won’t hear me arguing that.” Devi smiled, savouring the moments she could spend in Gale’s company, in relative peace and quiet. Gods help me, I will talk him out of sacrificing himself to destroy the Absolute. He deserves to live, and I want him to live. She offered up a silent prayer to any god that would listen (except Mystra) – let Gale live. Even if he never loves me the way I do him, let him live.

[bakuliwrites]

I haven’t ever necessarily wanted to write a crossover fic before, but between Julian, Lucio, and Astarion, the temptation is mighty. What would going to a tavern with them be like??? Or shopping??? Or a heist??? The absolute chaos that would ensue would be mind boggling. The fucking drama that would occur if the three of them were in a campaign together.

[wearethewitches]

hell yeah im an isobel girlie. i really enjoyed the part where isobel is kind of coming to terms with what actually happened to her body after death? love angst, and luckily aylin is there to comfort her. I also really like the immidiate pride aylin has for valeria. its so her to go at everything with %100, good bad or worse. not trying to direct you in anyway, but i hope to see aylin vulnerable in the future too. coming to terms with having to die mortal deaths over and over and over again has to take a toll on someone. she’s especially the type to just push it away “because its over” only for that trauma to fester

i will definitely be writing more of that in the future, both within selune thou and in other fics - isobel is only one of many, many characters in bg3 with body trauma, but she's one of the very few among them who doesn't get to address it in-game. it's a travesty!

and totally, aylin is ride or die. my favourite line of hers is actually the ketheric interaction she gets after being called a thief. even when she thinks isobel is still dead, she's willing to defend her without second thought. give aylin a moon baby like valeria and it's on sightttttttt. a real mama bear.

vulernable!aylin is also the best, so don't worry about that. while selune thou is definitely isobel & valeria-centric, aylin deserves her time in the limelight, and she's definitely going to get it with the upcoming wizard l'oreal fight. tbh though i might make a few separate minifics in this universe that aren't AUs, just to get in stuff like this in if i can't manage it, like the wedding from isobel & aylin's POVs and also just.......extra stuff.

my ao3

(Selûne, thou) with softest starglow.

[sins-of-the-dragon]

Catharsis: Nightmare Fading - Short DA2 Fic (Reader Comfort) 1,642 Words

This is a re-imagining of a short fic piece I wrote for BG3. It's not really a fic story as much as it is a way to cope with traumatic memories through the medium of fiction and reframing memories/reality into something less painful. It's written in second person (you/your) with a non-descript gender neutral reader character. So this is your CONTENT WARNING - There is discussion of a traumatic incident. It is vague, there are no details of anything happening besides it being an incident with one or more people involved. The premise, in short, is that the characters of Dragon Age 2 have found a way to our world through The Fade and are turning up at the moment the reader needs them most. The hurt is vague but the comfort is the focus, with a view of "what would the characters say and do in this situation".

The original piece, Catharsis: Rewriting History (based on the characters from Baldur's Gate 3) is on AO3 here and has a very similar premise and vibe to it. This one isn't on AO3 yet, I'm still deciding whether I make a pseud for my account to write more Dragon Age or if I stick to may main fandom fics for now and just post a few odd DA musings here with a minific or two. Let me know, really, if you'd like more of my DA works~

Anyway, full fic below the cut. --- ---

Catharsis: Nightmare Fading It wasn’t fair. Life never was, perhaps, that you would come to know experiences like this. Pain you wished you couldn’t imagine - in your body or your soul, you couldn’t even tell. Perhaps it was both, your entire consciousness dissolving beyond physical and emotional agony to just focus on one thing and one thing alone. Live.

The air shimmered and crackled behind you, but with everything in front of you your mind was already seeking an escape from reality. You didn’t notice a thing until there was a short and muscular man carrying an impossibly large crossbow standing in front of you. “Sorry I’m not good at this kind of thing. But I’m here, and so are the rest of them. We can talk later.” He glanced back, the soft hint of a smile crossing his features before he turned back to the source of your pain. 

You blinked, unsure of what you’d seen, when you felt strong arms scoop you up, holding you tight against a broad chest. “Sorry I’m late, it’s not easy to navigate the Fade to cross worlds.” 

“They don’t need to worry about all that right now - are they alright?” A feminine voice this time. Chancing a glance at their faces, you saw they had to be related, maybe even twins. Even the red stripe of what you hoped was makeup across the bridge of their noses matched - they really were like two versions of the same person.

A woman in heavy armour stepped past the three of you, her face kind but hardened, ginger hair tied back in a neat but loose braid falling over her shoulder. “They will be.” She addressed you directly next, voice softening. “This won’t make sense right now, but someday it will. You can trust us, and don’t let anyone tell you to turn the page before you’re ready.” The woman turned away again, gripping her sword more tightly and striding forwards. 

Before you could gain your bearings again, you felt a wave of energy wash through you. Cooling, soothing, your body felt…better than it had in a very long time. “There you are.” A new voice, light and almost musical but with the edge of a weight behind it that told you he carried burdens of his own. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve…we should’ve been here.”

“We are here, or have you taken leave of the last of your senses in the Fade?” A gruffer voice spoke up, both men coming into view now. Something about them was familiar, tugging at your heart, pulling threads of memories that had yet to form. They looked at each other with animosity, but when they turned back to you… “Venhedis… You need to leave. What comes next is not for you to witness.” The tanned man was covered in lines of white tattoos that were beginning to faintly glow blue.

“Perhaps mercy might be an option?” The one holding you spoke again, but his words spurred a simple and wordless response. You shook your head. He squeezed you just slightly in his embrace as he acknowledged your decision. “Maybe not then. They’ve made their choice.”

You almost recoiled as the sharp edges of the tattooed man’s gauntlet reached towards you, but the pained look in his eyes mirrored your own. Perhaps if roles were reversed… The metal was cold, but his touch against your cheek was surprisingly gentle. “I will be back for you, when it’s over.” With that, he turned to leave, the light emanating from his tattoos glowing even through his armour. 

“You never deserved this. Not a single moment.” The other man who had been beside the tattooed warrior bent towards you, long blonde hair almost completely veiling your vision for a moment as he kissed your forehead. “I can’t promise you peace…” His voice seemed to change, taking on a slightly different tone as a subtle lightning crackled around his eyes. “But I can promise you Justice.” 

As he turned to leave, sparks playing around his fingertips with his raised hand, the man holding you turned too. The woman with you gestured towards a shimmering hole in reality, a green tinted world beyond, and a man in white armour with vivid red hair and bright blue eyes standing beside it. “It’s time to leave.”

You leaned more against the one carrying you, his ‘twin’ staying close and occasionally putting a hand on your shoulder. Risking a glance at the strange world around you, there were two women standing nearby waiting for your arrival. “Telanadas, ma vhenan. Come, with us.” The tattoos across her face were almost as endearing as her smile as she began to lead the way.

“Maybe you should leave the navigation to someone with a better compass.” The other woman turned her by the shoulders to face another pass. “Would you two mind being a bit quicker? This place is creepy…” 

—

A short time later you were in an unfamiliar room, a fireplace heating the area and lighting it with a welcoming glow. It was clearly a part of some large mansion, and though you’d never seen it before, there was something about it that felt like…home. The group with you sat you down on a large plush couch near the hearth, giving you a steaming mug of something that tasted smooth and soothing. They were a strange group. By the time the others joined. They told you stories - ones that you wouldn’t remember, but each word drove back the dark shadows trying to crowd into your mind. Softened the edges of the memories already trying to claw at you every time you blinked… 

Listening to them, watching them together, it was hard to understand what brought them all to the same place, the same cause. But the pair sat either side of you seemed like the common thread…or was it you? The shorter blonde man, who kept his crossbow close even while relaxing, was the best storyteller by far - if you were to rank them. He spoke of worlds, people, things you could hardly imagine. He also had a good many jokes, humour and wit shared by several of the others in the room. It felt like you knew them, their past, present, and futures all blending in your mind but never quite clear - it was like an impressionist painting, a mosaic half faded… The other blonde talked about cats a lot. You could almost imagine him with little cat ears on his head, but every now and then his voice sounded more serious as he spoke with you. More sincere as he asked deeper questions, a little blue lightning sparking in the depths of his eyes when he tried to comfort you with talk of what was right and just. There was little justice in the reality you left, but here…here you could almost believe him when he said he would move the stars in the sky to change your world if he could. 

Despite their arguing before, the white haired man with the tattoos over his body agreed on that point alone. His support held an anger to it, a ferocity that would have scared you had it not been abundantly clear that he meant it all to be protective. Not exactly the knight in shining armour that the fairy tales spoke of, but he understood…he had seen…he was not without sympathy for your tears. Even if his solutions leaned towards the violent. 

The dark haired woman with the tattoos on her face brought you some food, things you’d never tasted before, sweet and comforting. Every time you thanked her she almost glowed at the praise, her demeanour nothing short of adorable. When she asked if she could hug you, you worried for a moment that she might never let go as her grip was so tight and warm around you. One of the other women chided her though, reminding her to let you breathe.

All of their names escaped you, as if there were a layer between you that you couldn’t quite break down, but it didn’t seem to matter. While one told you tales of a wild and exciting life at sea, another told you of her dreams to settle down peacefully with someone she loved. The red haired man with his piercing blue eyes seemed most unsure of himself, but he was clear that no matter what path you chose to walk he would support it. 

For those hours, everything melted away. Fear, pain, every darkness of the world you left was chased away by the light around you, the warmth that closed in around you like a blanket. The last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was two voices speaking almost as one person. 

“Someday you’ll be making a lot of hard decisions for us…for me… They’re too hard for me to make alone, and Maker knows I’d rather not have to choose some of them at all. But I know…I know you will guide me in the best way you know how. That you will tell my story, and my companions’ too, that none of us will be alone with you watching over us. So, until you meet us all again, that’s what we will do for you.” 

Even their faces were blurring together as one in your mind, the slight pressure of their arms around you from either side melding into the feeling of the tangled sheets and blankets of your bed as the last of their words faded into a soft echo. 

“When the shadows are dark and the nights are long, we will be your light.” “When the fear from the past comes to claim you, we will fight it.” 

“When all hope seems to be out of reach, we will help you find it.” “Better days will come. Hold on, you’re not alone.”

— --- ENDING NOTES --- --- This one goes out to everyone who can in any way relate. We can try to reframe our memories into something less painful, to bring our minds back from the edge of a spiral or flashback in whatever ways work for us. Please always remember, loves, that you have survived all of your worst days up to now. Get through one moment at a time if you need to, and things will get better again. And even whilst they are awful in the moment, Hawke was right: You're not alone.

[insomnikat-mused]

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Writerly vibes

is a small, chill, low stakes Tumblr community I run to share writing inspiration and muses. Welcome! 🖖

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Current fandom interests

BG3

Dungeon meshi

The Acolyte, Andor, The Mandalorian

Hades and Hades 2 (Supergiant)

Fire Emblem (3H)

Kakashi

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Fanfiction links

📖 insomnikat @ AO3

Minific/Prompts on this tumblr:

Favorite 5 fics (self-rec, 2023)

Favorite 5 fics (prompt-themed self-rec, 2024)

Prelude to the storm (KakaSaku, Film Noir AU)

The light bleeds through (VLD Shiro and Keith)

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Profile icon was made with this Piccrew by @ummmmandy. Profile banner is a screenshot from my playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3.

[bakuliwrites]

Inbox Open for Requests!

Currently working on an Arcana headcanon from my inbox :) I am currently taking requests for the following fandoms:

The Arcana

Jujutsu Kaisen

Baldur's Gate 3

Requests can be headcanons or mini-fics! Just make sure to specify when you ask :) And keep it relatively SFW only please!

[littlelostmabari]

Complete Fic List

Hi everyone, I'm LittleLostMabari and I write fics for Dragon Age and Baldur's Gate 3. I'm also a fangirl for other things, and I take minific requests / asks!

Find most of these on AO3 @/LittleLostMabari.

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

One of The Good Ones

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 / Dragon Age Inquisition x D&D 5e / Forgotten Realms Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x OC. Background F!Hawke x Anders, Isabella x OC, eventually others. Rating: M (Canon-typical violence & behavior, check tags) Updates on Tuesdays.

To Kirkwall, By Accident (Ch 1-3)

Champion of Men and Druids (Ch 4-7)

Breaking Faith and Other Things (Ch 8-9)

To the Gallows, the Long Way ‘Round (Ch 10-13)

For Want of a Moment's Peace (Ch 14-16)

The End Begins (Ch 17-20)

Smaller fics under the cut.

Other Fiction:

Dragon Age

#Veilguard30 Complete Fic List (October 2024)

Baldur's Gate 3

Wine and Kisses [Gale x f!Reader post-game fluff, Rating: T]

Touch of Darkness [Gale x f!Tav angst, Rating: M, Work in Progress]

A Firm Kiss [Gale x gn!Reader, Rating: T (w/ CW)]

BG3 Pride Prompts (June 2024)

Day 4: Eating/Cooking Together [Shadowheart x Halsin x gn!Tav fluff]

Day 9: First Meeting [Wyll x m!Tav fluff]

Day 12: Journey Together [Lae'zel x f!Tav, post-Act 3]

Day 20: Festival [Aro/Ace Tav + Tadfools fluff, post epilogue]

Poetry:

Sweetness of Mortal Love [Gale x Tav, Act 3]

A Worthy Path [Gale x Named!Tav, Act 1]

At the End [Gale x Tav, Act 3]

Tell Me What Happened [Original]

Gifts / Requests:

A Note To Fenris [Fenris x mage!Hawke, Rating: G]

A Firm Kiss [Gale x gn!Reader, Rating: T (w/ CW)]

Not Going to Happen [Cullen x gn!Reader, Rating: T]

[miradelletarot]

GAAAHHHHH! THIS IS SO GOOD OMG! Thank you so much for sharing this with me!

I went off script. I needed to procrastinate.

Ok look. So, and stay with me here, @miradelletarot posted a kiss roulette and then @waterdeep-weavemoss posted an ask and I realized that Mira might want to read snippets instead of getting asks so I asked an RNG to give me a prompt and I got #21 first but I dun wanna choose that’s why I wanted a RNG in the first place!!!!!11!!

So I asked again and here is #5: "A firm kiss". Not beta read, written in an hour, so forgive me if there are typos.

Pairing: Gale x gn!Reader (undescribed other than you're shorter than Gale)

Wordcount: 1k

CW: Blood, wounds, all the gross things you find in Orin's temple. Spoilers for Act 3.

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

The pounding in your head is the first thing you notice as consciousness enters your mind. The pounding of your head, and then rapidly the smell of refuse and blood. The stone slab that served as your place of rest was uncomfortable at best, and the lack of support to your hips and neck and knees offers secondary pain. The next sensation was skin rubbed raw against your wrists and ankles, and those superficial wounds were the first things that were tingling as Shadowheart’s sixth level Heal poured into the cracks and aches and throbbing pain. Your eyes still refused to open, your body denying the trauma of your incarceration.

“They're okay!” you hear Karlach shout from somewhere to your right, as a blast of heat rolls over you from the same direction. You’d fixed her arcane engine, so it couldn’t have been your dearest tiefling friend approaching. “They're okay! Fringe’s got em!” Another blast, and this time, as you roll a parched tongue over cracked lips, you can taste the sweet smell of the Weave being summoned into a raging conflagration. This time you hear the noise of something exploding, and your eyes fling open at the threat. Your vision is occupied by the darkness of a high ceiling, but a wisp of silver draws your attention to the left where Shadowheart has her eyes closed in concentration. One hand is on your exposed stomach, the sensation of which slowly enters your mind; the other hand is raised with palm pressed forward in prayer, wrapped in Selûne’s white glow. 

You realize that your breaths have been shallow, but something in your lung expands under the cleric’s care, and your first deep breath enters your lungs. With it is the smell of death and decay, and the familiar stench of the undercity. The rattling of your breath coincides with the final stages of the spell, and Shadowheart opens her eyes to meet yours. There are tears mussing her eyeliner, the black staining against her pale skin and framed by her paler hair. She collapses on top of you with a sob, her arms pulling your head into her shoulder. Aches and bruises that the Heal could not reach cry out as you snake your arms around her as well, clutching her tightly. 

Stomping feet approach from your right, and Shadowheart releases you gently. A month ago she would have shied from such emotion, but there was tenderness in her gaze that hesitantly left your face and looked up. You follow, and Karlach is there with a grin and a hearty slap on Shadowheart’s shoulder. The wince on Shadowheart’s face evokes a chuckle from deep in your belly which only results in more aches. With Karlach’s help, you finally sit up on the stone slab, and then stand. Your feet slough through the remnants of the battle, and the remnants of Orin’s armor and jewelry fail to catch your notice as he sprints up the stairs, Wyll following quickly behind. 

Gale stops at the precipice, out of your arms reach, staring. His mouth is open, and if you were on firmer footing you would have made a joke about him being speechless. You can see the tears in his robe, the scorch marks from where the battle has taken its toll on his person. The smell behind you suggests your evocation wizard had destroyed the very memory of this place with a pair of upcast Fireballs. You can see his mind working, his eyes darting to your face and then to your ripped leathers, your bare feet and your hair matted with blood and bile. There is an intense quiet as the others watch, waiting for the ice to break. 

“I’m okay,” you finally cough, though your lungs rattle with the effort. “I’ll need some help getting back but —” 

He closes the distance before you can finish your sentence. One hand frames your right cheek, the other tangles itself in your hair at the back of your head, and his lips are on yours. Your hands unwrap from holding yourself and clamber desperately to feel him, whining as fingers find his robes and bury themselves. The kiss is bruising against your cracked lips, and you are filthy from your captivity, but Gale shows no sign of minding. His words from the Underdark echo in your mind, and you realize that this isn’t about seeing you in battle but the fact that he thought you were dead and you’re not and you’re alive and you’re kissing him. The hand from your cheek slides down your shoulder and your arm and finds its place on your hip where he digs fingers into your side. It hurts, but it is a pain you find yourself desiring because it means he’s there in front of you and you are well enough to hold him. 

This was a far cry from his normal gentle touches, quiet murmurings, easy loving moments. You realize that you had heard the clatter of his staff against the stones, a sin he would have barked at you for performing only a ten-day ago. He had not broached your lips with his tongue, and you found yourself desperate for even the rotten air of the cavern, given the way he was pressed so firmly against your body. When you finally could bear the lack of breath no longer, you unwrap your fingers from his robes and press palms against his chest. A gentle push and he releases your lips and pulls back, refusing to move his hands from your nape and your hip. His eyes dart between yours with concern and fear. 

“My love,” he whispers. It comes out as a low whine. You feel your mouth pulling up into a soft smile, and your head tilts gently to the side. Your cheek presses against his bloodied wrist and you close your eyes, taking solace in the simple fact that the two of you stand together. Alone, as it turns out, as Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll are on their way out of the temple to soothe their own wounds. 

You feel Gale’s arm slide along your cheek until his elbow is crooked around the back of your head and you are gathered in the safety of his chest. His neck stretches up until his chin can rest on the top of your head, and you both take several deep breaths until your hearts are settled. 

Pain and aches will fade, your cracked lips will heal, and the blood will wash away. Eventually. For now, though, you are whole.