#gale being a wet cat

[brewstersbru]

I want to get more used to writing low stakes lil blurbs so please enjoy this, also posted on ao3 under my pseud brewstersbru :) hopefully being able to post it here will bring the perfectionism anxiety down lol

***

Astarion is perhaps the one of the most interesting, irritating, but somehow undoubtedly kind people Halsin has ever observed. Though he’d flay anyone who had the audacity to tell him it.

The duties of an Arch-Druid are many, and often arduous in nature, but nonetheless rewarding. And it all boils down to watching, observing, noticing little idiosyncrasies in the people he leads. The people who trust him with their lives and wellbeing. Halsin has become well-accustomed to watching, as any good leader must and it is no surprise that the skill has followed him to where he is now, camping with a menagerie of illithid-infected souls, searching for a cure.

Though, with this aforementioned observational skill, Halsin has gotten the distinct impression that many of them seek quite a bit more than a simple cure. Absolution, freedom, a clearer path forward. It is so often in the words they don’t say, rather than those they choose to reveal. For example, Gale never talks of an ‘after’, a concept all of the others seem so enamored with, save Astarion, of course. He simply hums and offers a small melancholy smile when conversation turns to the topic of everyone’s plans after they find a cure. It wasn’t difficult to figure him out, not when Halsin had been paying attention. Gale is convinced that dying is the only way to atone for his sins. To be forgiven.

Halsin’s heart aches at the thought; poor child, it is not a sin to wish to be loved. But he digresses.

Astarion, curiosity that he is, had immediately captured Halsin’s attention when he’d joined camp. On the surface he seemed shallow, and ill-tempered, but Halsin has not gotten this far in life by making quick judgements on a person’s first actions after he’s met them. Sure enough, he’d caught a glimpse of the real Astarion not even two days later.

It had been a long day, brimming with long, arduous battles after which they had all come out exhausted and bloodied. Wyll, with his lion’s heart, had fought especially ferociously. Perhaps too much so. His robe was torn horribly across the front and he’d had to be propped up as they trudged back to camp, unfortunately neither Halsin nor Shadowheart had maintained enough energy to heal anyone.

Astarion had almost immediately wedged himself under Wyll’s arm, curling an arm around his waist while also berating him as they walked. “What in the hells were you thinking jumping out like that! You’re weak, leave the feats of strength to Karlach you dolt!” And on and on. The words were cutting, and not entirely fair, but still, his hands remained gentle against his friends skin and he walked slowly so as not to jostle his injuries.

Shadowheart- exhausted herself, likely with a beast of a headache after all of the concentration spells she’d been slinging- had told Astarion to shut it, only hearing the words and not the worry behind them. He had obliged- another kindness-as his eyes darted around the scrunched pain painted over her expression and his own expression set in resolve. Still, he performed a pout, and everyone took it for what it was- or rather, what he’d wanted them to take it for: Astarion being his usual surly self.

Halsin took it for what it truly was, a man doing his best to aid his friends and keep their spirits high after such a grueling encounter. He’d thought they needed someone to direct their exhausted irritation at, lest they start picking themselves apart instead (something Halsin had noticed, but was unaware Astarion knew of) and offered himself like it was as natural as breathing.

The kindnesses didn’t stop there, either. When they made it to camp he’d taken Wyll to his bedroll as the others collapsed onto their own. Rummaged through the camp supplies until he found a potion of greater healing, then did not feed it to Wyll until he was half asleep and delirious.

“Mmh… Dad?” Wyll had murmured, eyes squinted closed as he moved his head around. Astarion had simply hummed and continued feeding him the potion.

For the rest of the night he prepped ingredients with practiced efficiency and left them next to the communal cooking pot for when the rest of the party woke for breakfast. Halsin had needed to trance for a few hours, loathe as he was to turn away from the scene, and when he returned Wyll’s robe had been mended, folded and placed aside his head. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Halsin hoped he’d found his way to his own tent for a short trance.

Elves do not need to sleep, this much is true, but even a short trance would have done wonders to refresh and replenish his energy. Astarion had to know that.

Halsin is still unsure what the other elf had done for the rest of that night, but he’d emerged from his tent with just as much practiced, haughty vigor as he’d always had halfway through breakfast the next morning.

“Astarion! Good morning! Thank you for aiding me in our trek back yesterday.” Wyll had smiled at him, something warm and molten in his eyes. Astarion simply huffed and waved it off, “Well, dear, someone needed to lecture you about the dangers of heroism. None of these dimwits were going to do it.” Wyll smiled and the others gave halfhearted protests from where they’d been digging into the breakfast Gale had prepared from the ingredients Astarion had left out for him. There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught sight of them eating it, something almost like pride, if Halsin had to name it.

The others had been dumbfounded, asking around the campfire about who had done it. When no one came forward they’d simply shrugged and taken it to mean that the culprit was too humble to take credit. Besides, who were they to question a miracle such as this. No one asked the vampire if he’d done the deed, why would he have? He doesn’t eat food anymore and he doesn’t even really like them.

It’s exactly what he wants them to think. Halsin has to give him points for his dedication to maintaining pretense. Wyll doesn’t mention his robe, but his eyes dart from hand to hand trying to scrutinize any bandages or pricks that might indicate a late-night sewing session. It’s a smart move on his part but Astarion, it seems, is a masterful tailor. His fingers are unbandaged and unbloodied.

Everything carefully thought out and executed. Every kindness meticulously planned and hidden. He truly is an enigma. He would rather his friends believe him selfish and cruel, than see him for the gentle, caring man he truly is.

The kindnesses continue, always carefully implemented so as to erase any and all suspicion that Astarion may have had any part in it. He continues to be outwardly difficult and mean so as to cover his tracks. Halsin can do little but watch, as he always has, that is, until Astarion’s little kindnesses eventually and inevitably extend to him, too.

He is not so easily fooled, has seen past the performance that the other man puts on for some reason that he is still trying to parse.

It’s a quiet evening, the battles of the day had been hard, but nothing they were ill-equipped to handle. The shadow curse has been getting to Halsin, though. Seeing his greatest failure in all of it’s unbearable misery has been weighing on him. And he knows his struggle is not invisible to his fellow party members. They seem unsure what to do about it, though, seeing as he is a centuries old former Arch-Druid with life experience they could hardly fathom. He enjoys his time at camp but cannot say with certainty that he is truly close to anyone there. Though he wishes to be, he is afraid they’ve placed him on somewhat of a pedestal after his actions in the grove, forgetting that he is fallible and full of emotion, same as them.

He very nearly misses it, when it happens, too caught up in his thoughts to hear the slight shuffling near the entrance to his tent. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and emerges with a small smile.

Astarion freezes at the sound of his emergence, crouched over something small and wooden at his feet. Then, almost as if possessed, his shoulders relax and he looks up with a devilish grin. “Halsin! My dear, I was just looking for you. Some wretched little thing of a child has gifted me with perhaps the ugliest wooden duck I’ve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. And these things are in no way ‘beautiful’ on a good day. I cannot have something so… distasteful loitering around my tent. You mentioned you liked ducks so I thought it would be of better use here. Otherwise I’m throwing it in the river.” It’s a lot of words, more than the vampire generally tends to use in casual conversation, as much as he pretends he’s an insufferable chatterbox. That’s the second clue Halsin gets that perhaps there’s more to this than Astarion is telling him. The first being the way he froze, as if he hadn’t been expecting Halsin to be there. “Looking for you”, right…

Astarion stands and nods at the duck on the ground. It’s small, a little misshapen, but it’s got hearts carved where it’s eyes should be and for some reason Halsin finds that hopelessly endearing. He kneels and cradles the thing gently in his cupped palms.

When he looks up Astarion is grinning at him, still in that sneering performative way he likes to, but in his eyes that shine of pride makes itself known. Halsin likes the duck, it’s obvious. And Astarion is proud of himself, but he’ll never tell. He’ll never let anyone else be.

The third clue is dripping sluggishly down Astarion’s finger, stark and red against his deathly pale skin. Halsin remembers the first time he’d whittled. His hands had looked much of the same. He smiles.

“Thank you, Astarion. This is very good. Would you like some salve for your hand?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, only fractionally, but noticeable if you’d been looking in his eyes. And Halsin had been. Still, his expression shutters and he pastes another smirk on before turning his nose up at the duck.

“Thank the Gods, that ugly thing is your problem now. And I’ve no idea what you mean dear, my hand is perfectly serviceable.” He rushes away with a perfunctory wave, likely to rob Halsin of the opportunity to call him out on his bullshit. Halsin only smiles and cradles the duck. He’d bloodied his hands for this, for him. The surge of affection that washes through him is entirely involuntary but wholly welcome.

Astarion wakes from his trance the next morning to a gift settled gently at the entrance of his tent. It’s a wooden cat, masterfully carved from a dark oak and undeniably beautiful. Perfectly fitting the vampire’s tastes and sensibilities.

A note lies beside it in what he recognizes to be Halsin’s messy scrawl.

Thank you, Astarion, again for the duck. It thrills and delights me to know that you care. It did make me feel better, you know, and I still have that salve if you need. All you have to do is ask. I thought I’d return the favor, seeing as you do so much for the camp but refuse to let anyone see it, or thank you.

I see you. I thank you.

Yours,

Halsin

[cactusnymph]

“Just gotta deal with the fact that people have different tastes”, she continues.

Gale huffs.

“Apparently I’m the only one who’s not their type”, he mumbles.

“I could describe my night with them to you, if that would help at all?”, Karlach offers, the pity in her eyes more than Gale can take.

“It really, really wouldn’t.”

[forcedhesitation]

stop fucking flirting with me, you rancid little man

[shimelyasmin]

ive seen people talk about how ur companions react when gortash reveals that u were a part of the plan for the absolute and its interesting bc my companions didnt even acknowledge that with me if i remember correctly. i think the most major thing was that karlach was concerned that i agreed to his alliance but still immediately trusted me when i told her that it was just so he wouldnt sic the steel watch on us or something like that

[sorrelchestnut]

I've seen a fair number of posts both here and on reddit that question why Tav (or the Dark Urge) would end up as a group leader for any other reason that "game mechanics say so." There's the requisite "okay, well if you play a high charisma character I guess it makes sense," or on the other end of the spectrum, "if you're playing Durge and murder someone right off the bat everyone would be too scared to tell you no." And I get where people are going with this! I really do. But it also fundamentally misunderstands a facet of human nature, which is that the vast majority of people do not actually want to be in charge, because that means being held responsible for the outcome. Accordingly, most people will dither when a group consensus is needed: have none of you ever tried to get a group of friends to agree where to go for dinner? Yeah, it's like that, but waaaay worse.

A lot of times "leadership" is just the willingness to say, "fuck it, y'all do what you want, but I'm doing this." I see it all the time in a corporate environment, where people will go back and forth on group meetings without anyone making a decision until finally one brave soul goes "in my opinion the clear answer is x" and then everyone gratefully goes along with it. Because now it's not their responsibility when something goes wrong! They're just following along with someone else's suggestion, and maybe it works or maybe it doesn't, but at the end of the day they don't have to worry about the consequences unless they're personally affected. In which case they might step up and argue back, and then they're stuck being a leader, too. Welcome to adulthood!

Lae'zel is the only one who ever even tries to exert some kind of control, when she tells you to follow her lead on the ship, or calls you her subordinate in the Grove. But, crucially, she doesn't ever make any serious attempt to take control: you can just tell her, "lol, no," and she sort of confusedly gives way, because she doesn't know how to handle this scenario. In her world there are commanders and subordinates, and everyone knows where they stand and falls in line. She's never actually had to take control of a situation and so at the first sign of resistance she falls back on the dynamic that's familiar to her, which is executing the commands of someone older and more experienced. She goes through a lot of growth over the game, to the point that she can take over as a resistance leader in her own right by the end, but at the beginning she's a wet-behind-her-ears private with some decent combat chops and it shows.

Otherwise, your party consists of:

Shadowheart, who's trained in infiltration and assassination and does NOT want a lot of attention brought to her or her mission for a variety of reasons;

Astarion, who has literally been a slave for two centuries and canonically takes a while to realize that he can exert an opinion beyond complaining about it;

Gale, whose only friend is his cat and couldn't project-manage his way out of a wet paper bag;

Wyll, who was probably trained for command at one point but has been doing the lone-hero thing for a decade and has a very large secret that he's trying to conceal; and,

Karlach, who's only ever been a bodyguard and a soldier and is genuinely just happy to be here.

Honestly, it would be more a surprise if Tav/Durge didn't end up as their unofficial leader, given the general power dynamics at play. The first time Tav/Durge says something like, "fuck it, we need to do something instead of stand around arguing about it, let's go check out those ruins over there," it's a done deal. They're The Captain Now! As long as they don't make decisions that fundamentally oppose something dear and important to the other group members, they're not even going to get any argument. Because at the end of the day, not one of these walking disasters has enough trust in themselves and their decision-making skills to feel any kind of certainty that they can choose the right path forward. If someone else is going to take that decision out of their hands? They're going to follow, no questions asked, right up until the moment they can't.

[justporo]

Headcanons for the companions reuiniting after a few months

Ok, but imagine Astarion and Tav invite their friends over for a reunion during winter time!

Obviously it's Tav's idea and Astarion isn't into it at first but he thinks it's kinda cute how into it Tav is

Gale is enlisted as sous-chef, he doesn't have a choice

The wizard also spices up things decor wise with some magic, Shadowheart also helps make look everything incredible

Tav and Gale make all the dishes, heaps of them, loads - no one will go home without having gained at least three pounds of weight; Astarion picks out wine and drinks

And when everyone arrives it's just a whoooole big cheerful mess: hugs, smooches, screaming, excited hopping up and down (and obligatory snarls and hisses from some because it's just a lot of love going around)

The house is full of laughter and talk the whole night

Karlach hangs out under mistletoe for a suspicious amount of time to give little pecks to everyone excitedly

Halsin has brought individually whittled ducks for everyone - Lae'zel claims she hates hers but then she's seen carefully turning it around in her hands the whole night

Jaheira, Wyll and Astarion get into a fierce discussion of Baldurian politics over several bottles of wine - by the end they're in a screaming match (affectionately) and Jaheira ends it by dragging on pointy ears and horns using her mom voice on Wyll and Astarion

Shadowheart tells the others how she's overcome her former beliefs and how she made a new life for herself causing the whole party to fall silent for a moment, even some tears might be shed; "Have you all gotten soft in the last months? Ugh!" Shadowheart says and with that the spell is broken, although she still gets a lot of hugs and told how proud everyone is (she claims she hates it, but everyone sees the light blush and the telltale shining wet eyes)

Gale brought Tara and her and Scratch hang out in front of the fireplace, maybe even Boo

At one point Jaheira and Halsin join them in cat wildshape - then Boo has to watch himself while being playfully chased around by the cats and the tressym - Minsc meanwhile completely loses it while he chomps away on more food

Lae'zel shows off her knife skills by artfully seperating whatever meat dish is set in front of her from the bones

Later Halsin and everyone else who wants to join sneak out the backdoor to the small garden for a little smoking session - even Wyll joins and they all come back with some giddy chuckles

Maybe all of them play like charades at the end: Astarion is amazingly good at it (because let's face it he's so dramatic usually he's good at portraying things) - you and him are just a dreamteam, Karlach is just super excited, Lae'zel doesn't get it at first but then is overly competitive, Minsc doesn't fully understand what's going on but he's just vibing, Wyll overcomplicates everything while Shadowheart keeps rolling her eyes and sighing in annoyance, Halsin and Jaheira just keep watching while chatting and having more drinks, Gale screams the loudest with suggestions that are oddly specific and not even close to what's the solution

The little townhouse in Baldur's Gate is filled with love, light and laughter through the whole night - promises to repeat this have already been made

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[kittenintheden]

hit the bricks

surprise PWP drop lol. this is sort of a deleted scene from Not Your Sweetheart. this is not a scenario that will end up in the NYS so you get to have it here in bite-size instead. enjoy!

Rating: E Paring: Astarion/Ori (f!Tav) Word Count: 1.6k Content: 18+, established relationship, semi-public sex, quickie, wall sex, Ori being a bit of a power bottom

Link to AO3

This stakeout is horrifically boring and likely entirely pointless.

Astarion leans with his back against one side of a narrow alley, arms folded. Ori faces the opposite wall, peeking her head around the corner every now and again to try and spot their quarry.

He sighs.

She continues to look.

“This stakeout is horrifically boring,” he voices aloud. “And likely entirely pointless.”

From further down the alleyway, Elias chimes in. “We’d feel real stupid if they managed to sneak by us, though, wouldn’t we?”

Astarion rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can and glares at them. They smirk at him, knowing full well where his annoyance comes from. He’s certain of it. When he’d volunteered to pair with Ori for this reconnaissance mission, he hadn’t expected a third wheel. But Gale had insisted that they keep an open method of communication just in case, and, well. Elias is as convenient as it gets, considering they can move from group to group through the Ethereal Plane in seconds.

Whether or not they prefer to be used as de facto communication is yet to be determined.

It’s a bother. He maintains his irritated expression as he goes back to staring at Ori’s arse as she wriggles it back and forth between glances out of the alley. She might be doing it on purpose. The breeches she’s chosen to wear this evening are quite form-fitting.

His brow smooths and his eyes go lidded as he lets himself fall into fantasy, picturing her just like this, but all soft skin, warm and gray beneath his touch as he runs his fingers down the length of her spine. He hasn’t taken her from behind yet. All in good time.

Astarion slow blinks and flicks his tongue over his bottom lip.

Now could be a good time.

He’s brought abruptly back to reality as arousal rises in him, sending a rush of heat between his legs. He huffs and shifts position, straightening one leg with a grimace. Fantastic. Now he’s grouchy again.

Their corner of the square remains unpopulated. At this time of evening in this part of town, passerby are few and far between. He scans the space sullenly for a moment before his eyes are drawn back to Ori. She stands straight, still facing the wall, and puts her arms over her head in a long, arching stretch.

Astarion tucks his chin. That’s definitely on purpose.

“Elias,” Astarion says. “I think perhaps you should go check in on the other team.”

“What for?” they say distractedly, their eyes currently tracking a stray cat at the far end. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Something’s about to,” he says lowly. Then he pushes off the wall and closes the space between his body and Ori’s, pinning her up against the bricks on the opposite wall. She squeaks in surprise.

“Oh, for fuck’s-” is all they hear before Elias’ voice cuts itself off as they vanish.

Ori’s laughing, now. She turns her head to one side and puts her palms against the wall in front of her, pushing gently back against Astarion. He puts his mouth to the side of her neck, running his tongue over her pulse point and punctuating it with a kiss.

“What was that about?” she teases, even as she shivers and shuts her eyes.

“I needed to ask you something.” He places another kiss to her neck, this time closer to her ear.

“Mm. And what’s that?” She stretches her head to one side to give him more access.

Astarion puts his lips to her ear and whispers, “How wet are you?”

She gives a quiet giggle, her mouth stretching in a playful smile as she cracks her eyes to look at him.

“Wet enough,” she whispers back.

That’s all the go-ahead he needs before his hands are at the front of her trousers, undoing her fastenings quicker than she’d be able to herself. As soon as he’s able, he dips a hand down her front and into her smallclothes.

His fingers find her slick and he huffs out a breath, dropping his open mouth to the spot where her shoulder meets her neck. He slides his fingers against her and she gives a controlled moan when he finds the swell of her.

“You’re always so ready for me,” Astarion groans into her skin. “It drives me mad.”

Ori hiccups and responds, “If you knew how good it is to take your cock, you’d be walking around wet all the time, too. But we’re supposed to be, ah, keeping a lookout. Someone could… mmm… catch us with our literal pants down.”

They’re not exactly in public, but they’re not exactly not in public, either. Being quiet may not be an option. Does he care?

Not at the moment.

Astarion stops teasing her clit long enough to push her clothing down past her hips. As he goes to deal with his own ties, he breathes, “Then they’ll get a show, because you know anyone about to stumble on this would have no choice but to watch.”

She answers with a quiet growl and play-bites at him.

“Ah, ah,” he says as he pulls himself free of his trousers. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Disappointing,” she teases.

He presses his hard cock between her legs, causing her to gasp and arch as he draws himself along her slick cunt and grazes her clit. Her thighs are trapped tight together from her breeches, coating him in her wet as he grinds.

“I said quick,” he says, hiding the shake in his voice with a laugh. “I didn’t say disappointing.”

The head of his cock finds her willing entrance and he pushes inside, the slide smooth, but oh, he didn’t think that through, that’s very-

Ori clocks the way he tries to quiet the moan that spills from him as he enters her. She clocks it even as she leans her head onto his shoulder, arching her back as hard as she can with him pressing her to the wall. The glide and stretch are perfect. She can feel him everywhere.

But he’s not moving.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” she says, voice shivering.

Astarion has been clenching his jaw. She can feel him loosen it as he says, “You are so t-tight like this.”

She grins, holding back her laugh. “Did you…?”

“No,” he huffs, wrapping his hand around hers where it’s pressed against the brick. “Give a professional a little credit, dear. I just, ah, needed a moment.”

“Glad to hear-” she starts.

“Moment’s over,” he interrupts.

His hips begin working with short, shallow thrusts, grinding Ori up against the wall, her front pressed to the masonry, and she pants prettily for him as he ignites the fire between them. He keeps one hand over hers on the wall and the other wrapped around her hip, guiding her in time with his rhythm.

She feels exquisite. He presses his lips to her exposed shoulder and sucks, vaguely aware he’ll leave a mark there, but he doesn’t care, because it feels good this feels good she feels good all around him. Fangs graze skin, tempting. Her arse is so plush pressed close.

He moves the hand on her hip around to her front and between her legs, using his fingers to spread her just a little wider, exposing her to better feel the root of him on her clit every time he thrusts into her. It has the intended effect as she whimpers out his name surrounded on all sides by soft ah ah ahs. Gods, it’s hot.

Taking her here, hidden but not invisible, makes the rush of being discovered hit his blood and urgency pulses through his core. He pulls his mouth from her and pants through his teeth, molten heat coiling around the base of his spine.

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he whispers. “Can you do that? Can you come for me? Don’t let me…” He gasps on the next breath and continues, “... embarrass myself, love.”

“Say please,” she breathes with a surprising amount of control given her current position.

“What?” he blurts, brow furrowed as he continues to rut into her. His body wants to come so badly that it’s making thought beyond gods gods fuck yes gods difficult.

Ori groans this time before she repeats, “Say. Please.”

Astarion presses his mouth to the side of her face and says, “Please, please, come, please come, please, love, love, please, come, come-”

She clenches down hard around him and he whines, barely managing to ride out her climax before he hits his own, the flutters of her peak continuing all around him. Ori bites her own forearm, her cry lost against her skin. Astarion does his best to stifle his inelegant grunts as he spends himself inside her, the relief palpable.

They take a moment before Ori mumbles, “Neither of us really considered how to extricate ourselves from this situation, did we?”

“We did not,” Astarion mumbles back with his mouth against her temple.

There’s another beat of quiet.

From around the corner out of view, they hear Elias say, “The mark is here, you’d better be done, I swear, I’m not coming around there. Let’s go.”

The mad scramble to separate and quickly rearrange clothing goes smoother than expected, all things considered. It isn’t until they pick up their things and make to run for the square that Ori pulls a face.

“All right, love?” Astarion asks, dagger already drawn.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll, erm. Deal with it later.”

She speeds by him and it takes him a full second to catch on before he snorts out a laugh and follows her.

[avonne-writes]

The first time it happens, he talks about it with Gale afterwards and Gale feels really embarrassed, but Bucky reassures him that it's not embarrassing at all.

🥹🥹🥹

Re: this post about Bucky being enamored by Gale laughing from pleasure in subspace. This drabble is right after the first time this happened. My subspace Gale fic: The Art of Letting Go

Bucky watches Gale's eyes, but they don’t meet his. They're half-closed, with only a sliver of blue skies peeking out from under the shadow of his eyelashes. They’ve been like that since their afterglow started fading into comfortable exhaustion. He's close enough that Bucky feels the heat of his flushed face. The bow of Gale's lips is still cradling a hint of a smile. Under the blanket he draped over their waists, sweat builds slippery friction between their thighs, but he doesn’t want to untangle their legs. Gale's long fingers draw idle patterns on his bare chest.

When Bucky takes a deep breath to sigh through all the longing he feels, Gale’s eyes flicker up to his.

Bucky's smile comes to his lips like warmth follows the sunshine. "Back with me, darlin'?"

Gale gives him a fond, tired blink and hums.

It's not enough. Bucky craves Gale's voice, and the sweet reassurance that he had a good time. It's not easy to keep the reins firmly in his hand and not crash when Gale puts such immense trust in him. He wants to hear how he did. He lays a hand on Gale’s stomach, swiping back and forth with his thumb. "How are you feeling?"

Like a cat, Gale smiles and rolls his head against the pillow to press his face to Bucky’s. His hand wedges itself between Bucky arm and ribs. "Good."

Bucky's palm slides to the small of Gale’s back to drag him closer, abs to abs, chest to chest. He grins and nips Gale's cheek. "You laughed before you came."

Gale tenses up all over, but Bucky presses down with his arm to keep him from pulling his hand back to cover his face. A sound of embarrassment escapes Gale's throat. "Did I?"

"You giggled every time I got your sweet spot."

Gale wriggles his hand free and bows his head to hide his eyes behind it. His hair tickles Bucky’s nose. "Oh God."

"What?" Bucky laughs.

"It’s embarrassing."

"Why?"

"I lost control."

"Nah, you didn't lose it." Bucky rocks him in his arms playfully. "Just gave it to me."

He nuzzles the back of Gale's fingers. When Gale moves them to nudge him away, he captures one between his teeth. That makes Gale snicker, and he starts wrestling Bucky until he gets him on his back, Gale’s weight draped over him. He drops his forehead to Bucky's chest.

"Are you still okay with all this?"

"Hell yeah, Buck. Do you know how hot that was?"

Gale raises his head again, his face aflame, but the look in his eyes is fondly sceptical. "You say that about damn near everything I do."

A slow smirk spreads over Bucky's lips. "Doesn’t make it untrue."

Gale looks away, quiet for a long moment. "Did you... actually like that?"

Bucky wets his lips. The image of Gale's bliss flashes in his mind. The way he tightened up, the lilt of his laugh. If he keeps thinking about it, he’s going to harden again. "Yeah. Wondered what it felt like."

Gale makes a noncommittal noise and starts playing with the hair on Bucky's chest. Bucky shifts his hips. He knew he'd have to pull it out of Gale word by word. "What did it feel like?"

Gale shrugs, uncomfortable.

He still avoids Bucky's gaze until Bucky grabs his chin and tilts his head up. "It’s not embarrassing."

"Felt good." Gale says, as if he thinks he can get away with that vague answer. It amuses Bucky that they keep repeating the same tug of war in their conversations about sex and neither of them seems to learn to give in faster. He, too, continues what he always does - keeps pulling.

"Uh-huh. Good." He runs his palms down the length of Gale's back. "Don’t spoil me with compliments, Buck, or it might go to my head."

Gale gives him an amused look from under his lashes. "What if I say you did well?"

Satisfaction tingles on Bucky’s tongue, but he bites it, craving more. A smile plays around his lips. "How well?"

Gale looks away, then back at Bucky, contemplating. The moment he gives in, his ears turn red again. "Well enough that I couldn't bear it."

"So you laughed."

"So I did."

They keep smiling at each other for a beat of silence, then Bucky pushes up on his elbows, grabs the back of Gale's head and kisses him on the mouth. "I wanna do it again."

Gale's breath fans across his lips in an excited rush.

[pursuitseternal]

“Don’t hold your breath:” hot spring smut with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x Reader | E | 2K of underwater oral

🎨 By @snowfolly

Summary: The Mountain Pass is cold at night, you’ve found. And your newly taken Vampire lover has left for the night. But maybe… not to be alone… A note from him to meet him in secret, the end of your search, a bubbling, steaming mountain hot spring with more hidden than rocks beneath its water.

CW: Fem oral receiving, Vampires don’t NEED to breathe 😉, jealous!Tav, reassuring Astarion, wet cat hair Astarion

Ao3 link |ao3 series link |Masterlist

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You… can’t remember if you’ve ever seen a hot spring. Most things from your life before this tadpole seem hazy now. Well, frankly most things that happened before you took Astarion as your sometimes-lover are fuzzy. But given the winds whipping around the Mountain Pass as the sun setts and the heat of day starts to seep from the world, a hot spring sounds like just the solution. That merchant just up the Pass said you couldn’t miss it, that making camp close by was a wise idea since mountain nights are cold.

Really cold.

At least that part is true. Karlach was fine of course, warm and bubbly as she had gone to find enough firewood for an army. Although, given how big you all needed to make the fire to keep the feeling in your toes, you suspect it’ll last you the night. Gale cast some spell, trying his best to keep out the cool winds and lock in the heat from the fire, but not even magic could prevent the power and force of nature.

Yep, that was Halsin’s contribution before he shifted into a bear to sleep in the warm comfort of fat and fur.

But you don’t worry about any of them… your undead, eternally corpse-cold lover, however…. He had disappeared to hunt and hadn’t returned.

If he had a heart, he wouldn’t do this to you, at least you hoped. If he had a heart, or one that beat at least faster and kept his flesh warm, you wouldn’t feel so much worry gnawing in your gut. But no, his cold body would be shivering by now, unable to warm up, and you hope being undead means he will survive.

As the night grows more frigid with each breeze, you peek into his tent one more time, just to see if he has snuck back like the stealthy, roguish ass he is.

Sure enough, that fucker… he’s left you a note. Or he’s left someone a note, your heart leaps into your throat hoping that it’s for you… though he has been making such sharp and sultry banter with your Cleric lately… your gut squeezes tight with jealousy. Fingers snatch the note from his mess of a bed.

Just a single scrawled line… directions to head north and dip yourself in…. Darling.

You scowl, knowing full well it’s a term he throws around as freely as his smirks. The same words and smiles and raised brows that surely make your Cleric’s heart flutter too in that hot and suffocating way you feel when it’s turned so fully on you.

You take the note, after all, finders keepers, you smirk. That’ll keep him all to yourself, you chuckle inwardly. As you sneak from his mess of a tent, you can’t help but trace your fingers over that tight, flourishing script of his, the paper obviously torn from one of his many books.

Cute, you think to yourself, pulling your jacket around your shoulders tighter as you head northward up the trail. Aside from the cold, it’s not unlike your other trysts… a quiet evening, a moonlit path, and your heart rapping out of your chest to see him. Already you feel your stomach fluttering your cheek blushing hot despite the chill. You want this, smiling he wants it too.

You assume, the nagging thought slices your desire. You want to think those extra longing glances are for you… those flirtatious quips made for the others just to keep his appearances as a rake, even as he has begun to trust you more with his past.

But… the doubt still nags at you. The images of how your Cleric stares after him in his wake around camp usually. You don’t know if it’s lust or suspicion. Or both.

Before you can let your excitement sour too much, your feet almost stumble into water. The hiss, the steam, you nearly fell face first into the hot spring. This was it, you take in the scene with a hint of awe and a lot of excitement. “Well,” you laugh to yourself, “he did say dip in…” Peeling off your jacket, you hurry to strip off everything. Your skin prickles in the breezes, the wind softer where the spring is sheltered and warmer from the steam. His name is sweet on your tongue as you call for him, not waiting for a response as you let the bubbling, cloudy water submerge your body.

You hear nothing as you turn around the large body of water. It’s not deep, rocks lying beneath the surface at good heights to sit on and still savor the waters. Deep breathes in your lungs, eyes fluttering shut as you take a seat on the closest one, you wait.

But you swallow that slice of jealousy… what if he’s somewhere else with… someone else? What if he’s hiding, unready silent in the brush because you aren’t the conquest he was hoping to lure to this locale? What if…

Hands grip the backs of your calves, nails digging into your skin beneath the cloudy, fizzing water.

Invisible.

Unseen

But the touch is colder than the waters.

That touch pries you apart, pushing you back against the bank of the spring, and splitting your folds open. The noises you make are short and scared, the rush of adrenaline overpowering you as your reach for whatever is moving you under the water.

Fear lances through you, until your hands grip into familiar if wet locks, and a cool soft pad of a tongue starts to sweep up your thigh.

Astarion.

Your spasms of dread turn to disbelieving and nervous laughter. Your eyes still frozen wide as you try to watch him lick higher to your folds beneath the water. But you see nothing beneath the bubbling surface.

Arms wrap so firmly around your ass, pulling you just to the edge of the rock. Gritting your teeth together, you can’t fight the way your hips buck against his face, especially not with both his arms keeping you pinned in place, nose rubbing your hardened clit, tongue diving and swirling the circumference of your channel. That muscular tip strokes back and forth over that spot he loves to touch, that hot bundle of nerves just inside you. The sight of his head and curls is lost to your blurring vision, all is steam and bubbles and churning water as he consumes your own slick before it even reaches your thighs.

Heart racing, blood pounding in your arteries, you can’t catch your breath as you come apart so quickly, so readily on his mouth. But even as your thighs clench over his shoulders, his arms keep you trapped and his tongue keeps devouring you under that bubbly water.

Tongue sweeps to your clit, lips sucking and circling over that aching nub. Fangs catch briefly on your skin, a nick here and there, but the pain hardly slices through your bliss as he drives you even faster for a second crashing wave of pleasure. Your head lolls on the mossy bank, your legs shaking down the scars of his back, and your fingers practically pull his perfect hair from its roots. The stars in the sky are nothing compared to the ones that begin to blind you again, your climax approaching at breakneck speed. As your body wracks with bliss, his arm splashes away from your backside, only to dive his long, dancing fingers deeper and fuller into your cunt.

A scream tears from your throat, making the poor wildlife around you scatter in the underbrush. The walls of your core suck his touch in deeper, or force it out, you can’t tell, not with the way your body is practically boiling itself. You can’t catch your wind, the edges of your sight growing darker, your world starting to spin like when he sips just a bit too much from your body…..

And that’s when your eyes fly open, the realization hitting you in the same moment, same breath as you torque and buck in one more burst of heat and wet and spasms.

He hasn’t taken a breath for….

You force your body back in control, gripping him by his hair, his ears and jerking him towards the surface.

He breaks through the water like some mythical being, skin so white in the moonlight, smirk so arrogant and self-content…. “Hello,” he pants, catching lungs full of mountain air once more, “…darling,” he finally adds as those lust-dark eyes scan over your dripping body. His damp hair drips and droops adorably over his forehead, almost over his eyes. He’d be pathetic if those eyes underneath didn’t proclaim pride in how he had just eaten you right up.

Suddenly that hesitation as he looks you up and down, devouring you with his eyes in that silence… it makes that pang of jealousy return. “Not surprised to see me?” you prod just a bit, sweeping your arms in the waters, trying to slide down the pool as he begins to inch closer.

“Aren’t you surprised to see me?” he purrs, sweeping his now wet and unruly locks out of his eyes with both hands. That pale face practically glimmers with drops of water and radiates with unbridled arrogance as he licks his lips. “That was the effect I was going for this evening with you, my little treat. So tasty too…”

“I could have been anyone…” you huff just a bit. Rolling your eyes, you try not to squeak as he descends on you, arms bracing you back against the bank of the pool, body pushing you against the rocks and wall again. “I could be some poor unsuspecting female that happened to find your cute little note.”

“You're not just anyone, you know…. And besides, I would know the taste of you and you alone anywhere…” he licks his lips, almost smacking them like the predator he is, cleaning his maw.

“You mean…” your eyes dart to the bushes, as if looking to see if anyone else is hiding.

He merely shoves that leering smirk between you and the middle distance. “Who else do you think I would ask back here for a bite, darling?” He’s intrigued and concerned, entertained and worried in one swirling tone.

“It’s silly…” you decide to laugh it off, nevermind how he still closes in on you. Cool hands hold you, sweeping up your arm. One palm rests on your cheek, something unusually warm about his touch, unusually reassuring without a single snide remark.

“Is it?” he cocks his head, eyes searching yours.

“Well….” you tilt your head, looking down at the swirling, dancing steam over the spring.

“Tut tut,” he lifts your head back up to meet his gaze, “eyes here, my darling. And I’ll tell you just who has my interest…”

“Oh,” you feel tears sting, until he smiles at you with pure adoration.

“You see, there’s this female, headstrong and defiant and willful…” His thumb sweeps over your lip, his smile soft enough to let his fangs peek out. “…she has a habit of picking up strays, and making sure they are cared for…” His fingers trace over the ever-darkening set of fang-scars that form on your neck. “She makes sure they’re bellies are full and their every need is sated…”

That thick, hard, veiny length of his prods into your belly as he pulls you flush against his front.

“I’m quite fond of her every trait, internal and external,” he purrs into your ear, hands wandering over your body, your sides tickled by touch, breasts teased and pulled with just the right amount of force to make you gasp and smile. “And besides, my first thinking blood, she tastes more divine than anything I doubt I would find in this realm.”

You can’t wait for his silken voice to shut up, so you opt to stop all those nice words with your own actions for once. Arms wrap so tight around his neck, you pull those conceited, praising lips against your own.

“Tell me you like me…” you pant between kisses. His lips begin that addictive working over yours, the kind that steals your air and makes you swept off your feet and usually on your back for him.

“You know I do, my little treat,” he rasps back, a little roll of his hips against your belly as he laughs, “but don’t hold your breath for more of an explanation.”

[lemonsprite]

Gale x gn!reader Drabble

As promised here’s the minific about tripsitter Gale ^w^

It’d been a rough day full of fighting gnolls and you’d finally returned to camp, the sun setting in the distance.

You were covered in dirt and blood, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin, slick with sweat from earlier escapades and your legs practically gave a sigh of relief when you finally sat down by the fire.

Yet you could not lay still.

Your legs ached, your body screamed for rest but the adrenaline had yet to wear off and you heart refused to slow. You felt weirdly itchy and no matter how much you shifted and adjusted your position you could not get comfortable.

“Struggling to relax?” Came Shadowheart’s voice from across the campfire. She sat cross legged, hands placed plainly on her knees in an obvious sign that she’d just been in prayer.

“That archdruid gave me something that I think can help.”

You look at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Shadow heart produced from her pocket a small round gummy like candy before reaching out her hand, offering the tiny treat.

“Sugar Shadowheart?” You asked with a teasing scoff. “I doubt that’d help my situation.”

“It has plants in it.” She almost whispered, leaning in close. “Ones that help you relax, I like to take them before bed.”

You glanced over at Halsin briefly, who was in some kind of engaging conversation with Gale, before accepting Shadowhearts offer and grabbing the gummy from her hands.

Popping it in your mouth, you chewed it hesitantly, finding the taste wasn’t that unpleasant.

“So… when is it supposed to…?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at shadow heart.

“Give it a second.” She said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I’ve got to go, I promised Karlach to help braid her hair.”

And before you could even protest, shadowheart was gone.

“Are you okay…?” Asked Gale, peering into your eyes that stared back at him. It reminded him uncannily of an owl.

“Do I need to get you a cleric…?” He asked once more, worry evident in his voice as he looked at his reflection in your blown wide pupils.

You let out a loose sigh, sinking into the throw pillow on the ground near Gales tent.

Part of you found it funny, the way Gale was so worried about your well-being but the other half was very confused by the delusions he kept feeding into.

“You’re saying I grew three arms and have seven noses… do you still think I’m handsome?” Gale asked, looking at you, his eyes round and watery.

He reminded you of your childhood pet cat when he’d accidentally fall Into the nearby lake, pitiful and sopping wet.

“You’re very handsome Gale…” you mumbled quietly with a small grin, your body taking a second to register the hand you placed on his thigh.

“Mmm little kitty.” You hum, wrapping him in your arms and pulling him close so he had no chance of escape. “So soggy, so feeble, little meow meow.”

Gale stared at you wide eyed and very confused.

“Meow?” He asked, and you nodded your head, nuzzling him impossible closer.

“Meow.”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

[zeniva]

Tumblr... tumblr why are you suggesting me astarion hate posts. I don't want to see the astarion hate, too many of my friends already tell me they dislike him LEAVE HIM ALONE LET HIM BE AN ANGRY AND SAD WET CAT WHO TRIES HIS VERY BEST TO BE CHARISMATIC IN ORDER TO GET HIS REVENGE DON'T BE MEAN TO HIM

(Just kidding everyone is entitled to their own opinion for real but I want tumblr to support me in my very active daily battle of ignoring astarion and gale haters for my own mental well being. Don't subject me to this torture. They're my slightly pathetic comfort characters and I love them)

[tilthedayidice]

Hey welcome back to my BG3 Hot Takes

While I have your attention, here's a cool site to help Palestine, all you gotta do is click it daily.

This session was inspired by @lipsie, gettin me ttalkin way too much. Yes I am aware that the tadpole changes things, and they have to make it balanced for the game blah blah blah- let a bitch complain.

Screenshots sourced from the Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki

Gale is the only character I feel is spec'd correctly, He's smart but fiuckin stupid, he has autism rizz, mam could not lift any box you asked him to, the only reason his constitution is 13 is because he's been dealing with the Orb and he's used to it by now.

Karlach should start with 20 strength and you CANNOT convince me otherwise, her charisma should be higher also, she's a ball of sunshine and could put the fear of god into anyone, and the line "Gods I wanna ride you til you see stars" will never leave my brain. Give this bitch a 15. She do be a little dumb I'll give you that.

Shadowheart is just funny to me, How can her wisdom be a 17 when she's been cloistered away for so long? Her wisdom is only a 17 in ONE SPECIFIC SUBJECT, a subject where she's forced to give up her memories. Memories are where we get our wisdom. Wisdom is gained through lived experiences, I'd give you the 17 for endgame Shart, but not start of game Shart. I'll take the 8 CHA cause she's a bitch (said with love, me too babe) but she knows enough to get what and where she wants so I think we should nudge it up to like 10.

Lae'zel.... I think it's unfair to put Lae'zel's intelligence at 10. Her wisdom being low, yeah i get that she's been cloistered away in a society that believes its the only way, it's all she knows. But intelligence? No. She might know much about Faeruns culture and people, but she knows EVERYTHING about the stars. And there's far more of that than there will ever be of Faerun. She's the funniest person we know, give her 9 CHA.

Wyll my beloved, do you airbrush those abs on? Do you wake up every morning and contour them? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU DO!!!!!!!!! SO WHO'S THE ASS WHO DECIDED YOUR STRENGHT WAS A FUCKIN 8??????? THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST A 13. He deserve a 15 but I know they won't give it to him. Lipsie and I were talking about him and they're right, WHEN WE DUMP THE BITCH HE SHOULD RESPEC INTO BARD.

Astarion..... oh Astarion.... you're such a disaster. Such a wet cat of a man. Such a pathetic little mew mew. I shit on him a lot, but I do really love his character and development lol. LESS STR MAKE HIM WEAK, he has been starved and living off rats and shame, he can have his measly 8 AFTER he drinks... uh "Thinking" Blood. His CHA being 10 is perfect actually no notes. I personally think his actual INT should be lower, not too much lower, maybe 11/12, I knooooow he was a magistrate, but you can't tell me he's not giving himbo... no what was that word on the meme graph? Himbim? Himbim.

Halsin.......... 10 STR? 10?!?!?!?! You built him LIKE THAT and give him 10 STR?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!? What in the nine hells...... Weaker than Karlach of course, but 10????? Give that man 15 at least 8 INT???????????? 8???????? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HATE HIM???? Is it because he isn't Gale? Mans has been studying the mindflayers on his own, he's been studying the shadow curse... on his own. HE'S A MASTER HEALER?!?!?! AN ARCHDRUID?!?!?!?!?!?!? That takes time, study, and dedication. You wanna assign him himbo so bad. He's just a whole well rounded man with autism,. (Not a dig on himbos, quite literally my favorite genre of Man). This is just 'cause he fucks isn't it.

Minthara she's so much smarter than Larian gives her credit for. While I agree with the WIS, that's more a product of being so closed off, Her INT is much higher. I'd give her a 14? She cunning, just because it's used for Evil deeds doesn't mean she hasn't been she hasn't put a lot of thought into her work. She lived in Menzoberranzan for Gods' sake. She had to be smart or be killed?!? She's said so on multiple occasions! Just because she's Evil aligned doesn't mean she not smart. (She's just as smart as our average Bear according to Larian)

Minsc...... First off let me say that I love that they chose this image. A Bad Bitch. Anyways, anyone who doesn't find that dumb happy face charming is either lying or literally has a stick up their ass.... 12 CHA. Also why is he so weak? I know he isn't like actually weak... but mans chunked that mimic? Let him have 14.

Jaheira I'll give you the 10 STR, she's complained about her knees like three times in my most recent session. 8 INT? So what I'm getting here.... is anyone not an origin character is just baseline 8? Lazy. Especially considering she was ALREADY GIVEN STATS IN TWO PREVIOUS GAMES. In both BG1 and BG2 she has an intelligence of 10, and if anything she's only gotten smarter over time. I wasn't gonna do this... but left is 1 right is 2.

15, 14, 17, 10, 14, 15, and 15, 17, 17, 10, 14, 15

Make it make sense. I know she's old at this point, but in my game she killed Sarevok again so idk man.

Rip me apart in the notes ;)

But do it nicely...

[senualothbrok]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @alpydk and @ponder-the-orb 🥰 so flattered by the interest

I'm working on this anon prompt for an alternative romance scene between Gale and a Tav who is abstaining from sexual intimacy

Being me, it's gone beyond the prompt and now I have a full backstory for a Tav who is a cleric of Ilmater 🤦🏻‍♀️

Here's some of my draft opening so far

****

She used to be beautiful, you thought, kneeling there beside her. You stared at the welts marring her olive skin, her oily hair wrenched out from her braids. There was a sore on your mother's thigh, weeping with pus, and you looked away when Brother Rogier pressed on it, ashamed at your squeamishness.

You had seen far worse, wandering through dark alleyways and side streets to find her clamped against the wall by some hooded giant, or on her knees, gagging as a grunting shadow loomed over her. You had never felt disgust or shock, only blank curiosity, as you watched her finish and rearrange her skirts. Coins jangled in her pockets as she took your hand, bounding towards the promise of candlelight in the distance. Later on those nights, she would hold you close in a warm bed, her whispered song lulling you into sleep. With a full stomach and a formless hope, you ignored the greasy stench of strangers’ sweat which she could never shed.

It angered you, how nauseous you felt, as you listened to the bubbling crackle of your mother's breathing. You were only ten, but you were no longer a child, and you knew her moments were numbered. To feel disgust as she lay there, leaking into a peeling pallet, a guttering flame - it was the greatest betrayal. A sin you could never forgive. When Brother Rogier covered your mother's modesty with his usual gentleness, you started to cry.

You had been suspicious of him at first, stooped and shrouded in his tattered grey robe. You had never heard of or met a priest of Ilmater. All you could see was his bald head, so shiny it looked wet, and the backs of his calloused hands, hairy as a beast’s. When he first laid hands on your mother after her collapse, you screamed and clawed at him like a feral cat.

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Tagging (no pressure): @inglorionamy-ammy @kareluna8 @astarioffsimpmain

[coach-ukai-keishin]

Soooo.. since his reaction wasn't on YouTube yet and I at this point am desperate for any Gale content available (i know, i did not plan for this either), I fucking did the Mizora sex-thing while being romanced to him (it felt bad the entire way through, thank you very much), and GOD, NOBODY PREPARED ME FOR HIS REACTION?? I AM SO SORRY. GENUINELY. HE BROKE UP FOR GOOD, NO ARGUING IT, AND IT WAS HIS RIGHT TO DO SO. FUCKING RELOADED IMMEDIATELY THOUGH, BASICALLY CRAWLING BACK TO MY WET CAT WIZARD AND PRETENDING IT WAS ALL A TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE I PUT UPON MY TAV.

For real though the voice acting is really good and I love the depth to the characters? That you cannot just get him back after cheating on him? That he draws that boundary and that it genuinely breaks his heart? It's so different from the Astarion scenes I saw!!

[baldurs-gape]

Oh gosh, this is the shores nonnie from earlier and I am so grateful for your response! I didn’t have the best night so I am just so happy you are so kind😭❤️

My dear Shores Nonnie, I am so sorry to hear you've not had the best night. While I may simply be a stranger over the internet, please know that my DMs are always open if you need a willing ear to talk to. I can't promise to have any magical solutions but I make up for that in ample pet pictures (cats, dogs and various snakes are currently on offer), memes and stories of being a smidge of a disaster of a human being should you ever need a distraction.

Given that you've had a rought night, I've not had a great day myself, I can do but one thing. We give Astarion a not so great time, how about it?

(CW: this turned out a little more grim than intended. Glossed over torture, rape and just general Astarion having a bad time at the hands of Godey and other spawn before the others show up.)

One of Many

When Astarion was snatched by his so called siblings in the night, the rest of the party was up in arms. That was their vampire spawn now and they were going to retrieve him, thank you very much. Finders keepers and all that. Brave words which were so easy to speak yet acting on them was harder. Going during the night didn't seem the best of ideas so they waited until morning when light would offer them protection should they need to run, but if they did then they'd make sure they had Astarion in tow.

Getting into the stronghold was surprisingly easy. Finding Cazador was too. Between Karlach, Gale, Halsin and Jaheira they made a damn good attempt at ending his tyranny. The only problem was when the despicable worm turned and fled, they couldn't find him. Searching the palace led them from room to room. It was Jaheira who spotted the concealed door. Walking through it was about was good as walking into a nightmare. The whole room had Silence cast on it which explained why nobody could hear anything outside. But inside that bubble was filled with screams and begging in an all too familiar voice.

A skeleton was looming over the table where Astarion was pinned. No, he was nailed down while three other spawn stood around, watching impassively. As the skeleton moved, it revealed pools of blood on the floor along with pale lumps that were best not looked at too closely because they looked like flesh.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry." Astarion's voice was breaking, hoarse, he'd been crying and begging for a while. "Not again. I'll be good. I can be good."

His words turned into a scream that died down into a whimper and wet, bubbling gasps. Karlach charged.

Their second fight was short and brutal, much more satisfying than against Cazador. The spawn and the skeleton fell under their blades and magic with speed until it was just the five of them left in the cold, blood stained room. Approaching the table, Halsin was already preparing a healing spell while Gale rifled through his scrolls in case he had something he could help with. Meanwhile, Karlach tried to be as gentle as possible pulling the nails out of pale flesh. She and and Jaheira shared a glance over the table as Astarion lay motionless, eyes squeezed shut and teeth dug into bloodied lips to stay quiet.

"We've got you, Fangs," Karlach murmured softly and stroked through his hair. The hiss of sympathy was impossible to stop as she saw Astarion's ears, or rather, what had been left of them. She gagged and a hand touched the tips of her own as the slices of flesh under the table made sense. They hadn't simply been hacked off but rather taken sliver by agonising sliver.

As Halsin poured his healing magic into Astarion, Gale tipped a potion bottle against lips which were slow to respond. However, within three minutes Astarion was looking much like his old self as he swung himself upright and hopped off the table.

"Well?" He asked as he walked to the table with a pile of bloodied and shredded clothes. "Is he dead?"

"The coward ran," Jaheira said.

Astarion's eyes snapped up at them full of rage even as he shimmied into ripped trousers, uncaring of the blood and other fluids that still coated his inner thighs.

"So why the fuck are you here? What use are you? You should have gone after him and killed him!"

Walking closer, Gale tried to reach out but got violently shrugged off with a loud "Don't touch me!" Astarion's rage didn't end there though. "Useless, that's what you are. Wasting your time playing heroes while the monster is still at large. And you dare call yourselves my friends and lovers. Pathetic."

Hearing him fume rather than be grateful for the rescue was actually hurtful and infuriating. Gale stepped back, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"So we shouldn't have bothered coming to save you."

A large hand squeezed his shoulder and Halsin looked between his two partners.

"Perhaps we could all go back to camp and take a rest. I think we need it."

All through the trip, Astarion didn't say anything, strode out front of the group as he walked to the dock they'd set up camp in. Without word he marched into his tent and let the flap close behind him. It was probably less dramatic than he'd wanted.

Nobody saw him for the rest of the evening. Halsin cast wishful glances at the tent as he wrapped an arm around Gale but they left Astarion to his own devices. Whatever he was working through, he needed the space. One by one, the whole camp retired, Jaheira and Karlach were the last to go, staying up late as Karlach sought comfort from her hero after seeing her friend so mutilated.

Quiet settled around camp but Gale couldn't sleep. Even as he was snugly enveloped in Halsin's arms, he missed the chill from his other side where Astarion usually pressed in. Sleep continued to elude him until he couldn't keep still. Determined to go to Astarion's tent, he slipped out from Halsin's embrace and stood with a groan. Stepping out of the tent, he spotted a lone figure, sitting at the edge of the dock. Of course it was Astarion.

Sneaking had never been Gale's forte and he wasn't looking to take Astarion off guard. Instead, he padded softly towards him and stood, a little awkward until Astarion craned his neck to look up at him.

"Yes?" How he managed to sound bored was rather impressive.

"Did you really mean it?"

Rather than reply, Astarion went back to staring out at the sea. Taking his silence as confirmation, Gale turned to leave which was the exact moment he spoke up.

"Do you know how many times I've seen these stars?"

Halting, Gale looked over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what the crux of the conversation was and, truth be told, didn't know whether he could bring himself to care in that moment. It didn't seem to bother Astarion.

"Thousands of times. And they never change. It's why he liked calling me Star, to remind me that nothing about me will change either." There was no question about who the 'he' in the situation was. "He could do anything he wanted to me. But the end was always the same. I lived. I healed. I screamed again the next night. It never changed."

Retracing his steps, Gale stood next to Astarion and wondered whether he was welcome to sit. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be there, to comfort Astarion if he was allowed to.

Eyes firmly on the water, Astarion continued, "It was the same thing all over again. Except rather than Godey shoving a fetid rat at me, it was you pouring potion down my throat. It burend just the same. I'm whole again. Only for it all to happen again. If not at his hands then in a fight or a random accident." Eyes finally turned to look up at Gale. "I'm so tired. I don't want to heal anymore. Don't want to get up again just to be broken by others."

Invitation be damned, Gale crouched down to pull Astarion against him in a tight hug. He could just about hear his words, muffled as they were in his sleep shirt.

"People look at me and think I'm okay. That I'm unbroken. I'm a blank canvas for them to etch their pain into with their blunt knives. Break pieces off because they'll grow back with a potion and a murmur of a spell. Today was just one day of many. It wasn't even the worst yet Karlach looks at me like her world's been crushed. Even though I'm the one who felt every broken bone and ripped flesh."

Gale rubbed his hand over Astarion's back and wished he could say something, anything to make it better. But there was nothing. They gave him the potions, healed him because they wanted him back. The few times Gale had needed help picking himself up off the floor after a fight, he'd been grateful for it. Listening to Astarion though, he wondered just how much of a betrayal it was, to have healed his body but there was nothing they could do for the mind and the memories that plagued it. Pulling him closer, holding him tighter, Gale was left with so many wishes yet not even a whisper of suggestion for a solution.