#i am in the process of watching tadpole

[buk0wskis]

having an actor as a special interest is awesome. what do you mean he’s played a 15-year-old milf hunter

[scratchandfriends]

Quiet Watcher (18+)

Pairing: BG3 Wyll x Female!Tiefling! Tav

Word Count: 2500

Summary: What if Wyll indulges his desires a bit at the tiefling party? Who says a lawful soft boy can’t have a little romp? Okay maybe there's SOMEONE who says he can't...

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mean voyeurism, p in v sex, unprotexted sex, creampies (dont), horned/horny wyll, making out, very tame smut!

— — 

The party was quieting down and only a few people remained upright and even fewer remained sober. You were seated on a large log around the campfire with Shadowheart and Karlach enjoying the last of the festivities around you. 

Not wanting the night to end, you rose to retrieve another bottle of wine from your pack across the camp in your tent. Your head swims a bit, completely unrelated to the wriggling tadpole inside of it for once. You raise your arms out slightly at your sides to steady yourself. Your tail involuntarily straightened to balance you on your unsteady feet. 

“Woah, soldier! Think you’ve had enough, hey?” Karlach says with a chuckle, not bothering to stand up. It’s not like she could catch you, anyway. 

“You might be right. Should probably quit while I’m ahead… don’t want to be nursing a hangover and killing goblins tomorrow.” You smile and right yourself. 

“You smell like a barkeep’s boot on top of it all. Did you spill on yourself again or is that all coming out of your pores?” Shadowheart chirps at you with her nose in the air. 

You sniff the air around you and your clothes. Cheap, stolen wine all around. 

“Yuck. I think that asshole wizard from the grove spilled his drink in my hair when he was doing those explosive spells earlier.” You grimace. “Fucking tieflings, am I right?” You turn your head and wink at Karlach. She giggles cutely. “I think I should wash up before I turn in.” 

“Good idea. I might vomit in the morning if you smell like stale booze.” Karlach says. “Should hit the hay myself actually. Night, don’t let the owl bears bite!” Your large friend trots off to her tent as you make your way to the outskirts of the camp. 

Walking further away and letting the light of the fire completely disappear in your wake, you come upon the quiet banks of the calm river near camp. The waters were moving so slowly you could barely see which way the current was flowing if it weren’t for the few pieces of driftwood floating by. 

You begin to strip yourself of your blood stained and booze scented garb, folding it up neatly and placing it on the rocky, sandy bank of the river. Once completely bare, you slip off your sandals and enter the water. 

“Oooh!” You remark as the pleasantly temperate water glides across the tops of your feet. 

You move further into the river, dragging your fingers lazily across the water’s surface as you sink in past your waist. You feel both the grime and tension of the day wash away, letting out a contented sigh. Before you relax fully, your nose reminds you of the wine still lingering in your hair. 

You pull the ribbon from your sleek ponytail allowing your long hair to cascade freely down your back. You tread further into the river, bending backwards to dip the tips of your tresses into the fresh water. After wetting your hair, your bring it around to your front using your hands and begin to wring out the water along with the stench of spilled liquor. 

As you wash your hair, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched…

— — 

Wyll sat up against a rocky cliff, bottle in hand, far away from the festivities of camp. He was still processing his recent transformation and cursing his damned patron six ways to Sunday. Moping around doesn’t help, of course, but he just couldn’t bring himself to partake in the revelry and hoopla of a party at a time like this. 

So there he sat. 

On the beach. 

The mixture of sand and rock wasn’t comfortable on his backside and he wasn’t enjoying the cragged surface of the cliff against his back, but the alcohol was bringing him further and further away from caring. 

With each swig he stared more intently at the slow moving river, trying to free his mind from his own current predicament. He hears the sands shifting far to his left and turns his head. He sees Tav approaching the river with a bit of a sway in her gait, clearly unaware of his presence. 

Wyll carefully crafts what to say to her in his head but before he could make himself known he’s stunned by what she does next. 

She swiftly rips her tunic over her head, revealing her bare torso. Before he could process the milky pink sight of her bare back in the moonlight, she slips her trousers down her legs. 

His gaze locks on to where her tail meets her backside, then immediately drop to the plump curve of her ass, now fully nude standing on the bank of the river. 

Wyll’s mind short circuits, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone speak up and alert Tav to his presence hidden by the rock face. His breathing quickens as he watches her wade comfortably into the river. She rinses her hair and pulls it over her breasts to wash it thoroughly. He can’t help but notice the tightness in his trousers. 

It was far too late to announce himself… he had been watching too long… 

— —

“I know you’re there.” You say in a sing-song voice as you finish rinsing the wine from your long hair. 

There’s a pregnant pause, followed by the sound of someone hurriedly rising to their feet on the beach. 

“I-I assure you I w-wasn’t-“ You hear Wyll’s anxious stutter and you smirk without turning around to face him. 

“What? Ogling me bathing?” You giggle as you continue to clean yourself in the refreshing water. 

“I would n-never! I should g-go-“ You notice his footsteps heading in the opposite direction. 

“Oh hush. Join me, will you? We’ve had quite the few days.” You comment. 

“J-join you?” 

You shoot Wyll a playful glance over your shoulder. 

“Why not? I’ll close my eyes. I promise I won’t peek at your blade of frontiers.” You can’t help but smirk again. 

Silence falls over the two of you again, the only sound being the gentle babbling of the river around you. 

“Unless you don’t want to-“ You begin.

“No! No no. I do. I will, just… give me a moment here…” He flounders with his words, but you were delighted by the sound of his clothes being removed and discarded to the bank of the river. You hear his rapier clatter to the pebbled ground followed by the sloshing of disturbed water behind you. 

You feel Wyll creep gingerly up to your side, leaving a comfortable distance between the two of you. You turn to face him, both now up past your waists in the water. 

The moonlight cast stark shadows on his face from his curled horns, but his newly glowing left eye met yours. Your gaze dipped a bit to his toned, reddened chest, heaving a bit as if he was nervous for some reason… 

“There you are.” You say with a kind smile. 

“At least you recognize me.” Wyll sighs. 

“Come now.” You coo as you step towards him, water rippling around your torso. “You’re still the same man I agreed to travel with, just a bit… hornier.” You smirk. 

“You have to say it like that?” Wyll can’t help but crack a smile. 

“I couldn’t resist!” You laugh. “I can’t assure that you’ll get used to them, I was born with mine. Invest in a few larger pillows for your bedroll and I promise you’ll forget you have them in no time.” 

“If you say so.” Wyll shakes his head and looks down, desperately trying not to gawk at your naked form so close to him now. 

You step even closer to him, raising your hands to softly run them along the ridges of his newly sprouted ram horns. 

“You’ve got quite a nice pair, you know.” You remark 

“So do you.” He responds. 

You cock your head in surprise and raise your brows. 

“Gods! Shit! The horns! Your horns I mean!” He stumbles over his words again, blushed face growing even more crimson. 

You can’t help but throw your head back and laugh, hands still touching his horns. 

“Aww, I was hoping you were referring to something else, Warlock.” You say with a playful lilt in your voice. You gently tug on the base of his horns to pull him tentatively closer to you. 

“I mean… those are lovely too…” He says, finally allowing himself to glance down to your breasts. “Better than the horns, if I may be so bold.” 

“You may.” You remark cheekily as you move closer to Wyll, bodies nearly touching now. You can’t help but notice the brush of velvety skin bobbing against your belly. 

He hums in contentment and there’s another brief silence between the two of you. 

Your eyes meet and you seize the quiet moment to push yourself up onto your toes and place a gentle, lingering kiss on Wyll’s lips. His body freezes and you keep yourself from moving further until you can gauge his response to your actions. 

After the initial shock of your advance wore off, Wyll eventually leans into your kiss and starts moving his mouth against yours. 

You prod your tongue into his mouth experimentally and he lets out a soft hum of approval before allowing your wet muscle to explore his. 

As your kiss grows hotter and more fervent, Wyll wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You bring your hands down from his horns to cup his face, thumbs soothingly stroking his cheeks as you kissed. 

“I want you.” You say as you pull back from the kiss breathlessly. Wyll’s eyes search yours for any sign of uncertainty, but he was met only with lust and desire. 

“You’re sure?” He asks to affirm. 

“Gods, yes. Take me.” You breath out. 

Without needing any more confirmation, Wyll uses his grip on your hips to hoist you up into his arms. You yelp a bit in surprise before instinctively wrap your legs around his torso. Wyll latches his lips onto your neck, still damp from washing your hair, and trudges out of the river with you in his arms. 

He gently lays you down on your back before leaning back to admire your nude body prone on the rocks and sand before him. The moonlight glittered across your form through the water droplets littering your skin and Wyll was entranced. 

“So beautiful, far more than I deserve.” He remarks as he takes in your figure. 

“Oh stop all that.” You chide up at him. “Enough of that talk and make love to me.” 

“As you wish.” Wyll smirks down at you before pushing your legs apart and slotting himself between them. He props himself up on his elbow while lining his aching member up with your entrance with his other arm. 

As his hot tip breeches your soaked hole, you sigh out in contentment. 

“Gods you’re tight…” Wyll remarks with a grunt as he pushes further into you. 

Once passing the initial resistance from the remnants of the river water at your entrance, Wyll’s cock is met with the slippery, hot, slickness of your inner walls that allows him to silde effortlessly into you with ease. He thrusts experimentally, getting you used to his intrusion, all while you whine and claw at his shoulders, wordlessly pleading with him to give to you harder and deeper. 

“Wyll, darling… more…” You plead with him as you crane your hips upward. 

Your newfound lover obliges and plows into you harder, grunting and letting out desperate little pants with each meeting of your hips against yours. 

“I’ll give you as much as you want, anything you ask-“ Wyll babbles as he continues fucking you with reckless abandon. 

Wyll angles himself so he can suckle at the delicate skin of your chest all while stimulating the sweetest spots inside you. 

“Oh gods, I’m.. so close!” You moan out into the starry sky above you, gripping the back of Wyll’s neck and using your other hand to dig your nails into the meat of his backside, pulling him impossibly deep.  

“Come on, I want to feel you…” Wyll pulls back from your chest and brings a hand to rub firm, concise circles on your clit without faltering his thrusts. “Let go on me…” 

“Aggh!” You moan out as you feel your dam breaking and pleasure cascades from your center all throughout your body. Your eyes roll back in your head and you feel your walls spasm around Wyll’s thick length. 

“I-I can’t last… not with you squeezing me like this…” Wyll manages to grunt out as his hips stutter against yours. “Where-“

“In me! Please!” You cry out, delirious in the throws your pleasure still. 

“I- Shit-Ah-“ A deep groan leaves Wyll’s plump lips as he grinds his pelvis into your own and you feel the warmth and pressure of his heavy load filling your insides. He meets his horned forehead with yours and you whimper. 

Wyll’s deep pants dust your face as you both come down from your highs. You smile and gently kiss his parted lips. 

“That was… incredible…” He finally musters the strength to say. 

“I’d have to agree.” You remark, placing another light kiss on his lips. You pull back to find him smiling at you. A genuine one, not the fake one he’d been wearing for the past few days, one of actual happiness and comfort.

But that was soon to be shattered. 

“Bravo, little one!” 

A shrill voice from the shadows breaks through the quiet intimacy of your shared moment. 

Wyll instinctively scoops your naked body up into his torso and shields you with his arms. 

“Really? Here?” Wyll angrily remarks. 

“Here? You mean everywhere. I’m always watching, pet.” Mizora materializes mere meters from where your nude forms were still joined at the hip. “And it looks like its rutting season for my little pup! How sweet.” 

“You’ve had enough fun, now go back to whatever stinking, foul hell you came from!” Wyll bites back at his patron. 

“Oh, don’t be so rude. This certainly won’t be the last your little girl-friend sees of me.” Mizora cackles. “Excellent showing, darlings. Ta-ta for now then, hopefully it’ll be a little longer next time!” 

Before Wyll has a chance to retort, the devil flutters back to the hells in a ring of fire and smoke. 

Wyll lets out a heavy sigh. 

“So… she’s going to watch… every time?” You ask, still seated on his lap at the river’s edge. 

“Until we can find a way to break the pact… unfortunately yes. I understand if you want this to be a one time situation, it’s-” 

“Hush.” You quiet him with another kiss. “We’ve better give her a good show then. She can watch all she wants.” You push Wyll onto his back, straddling him. “She’ll never be the one crying out from the pleasure you’re giving… if she’s jealous, that can’t be our fault, can it?” You say as you hover over him. 

“You little minx…” 

— — 

A/N Ok Larian hates Wyll but I love him so let's make it more interesting!!!

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have. 

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?” 

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance. 

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around. 

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him. 

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood. 

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down. 

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him. 

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale. 

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?”  Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?” 

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment. 

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep. 

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation. 

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by. 

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll. 

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual. 

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air. 

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth, 

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight. 

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent. 

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet. 

Gale was her poet. 

Tav was his bard. 

“Sweet Hells.”

[jamiesfootball]

The Dick String Incident

“Right, new plan for training today! For the awareness bit, we’re gonna tie you fucking knobheads together. Get dressed, tie up, and be out on the pitch in five.” Roy dropped the spools of red string on the bench in the center of the room. He walked out of the room before they could say a word. Jeff was halfway through tying the string around his waist when Colin asked, “Did he say ‘you’ or ‘your’?”

The team froze. As one, the team turned to Jamie, who had stopped lacing up his boots to take the roll from Jeff. Freshly awoken from his between-training nap, he did not look like like a paragon of answers; he looked like someone who was trying to transition from ‘tie boots’ to ‘tie self’ and coming up short. When he realized he was being stared at, he blinked blearily under the attention. “What? Don’t look at me,” he complained. “I’ve been up since four. I wasn’t paying any attention.” Sam rubbed his hands together nervously. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but I heard ‘your.’” “He said ‘get dressed’ first. That implies an order of events he’d like to happen,” Jan argued. “Why would he tell us to get dressed and then tie our penises together?” Moe looked at him shrewdly. “So you admit you heard ‘your’ too.” “You’re all being mental. Why would coach have us do that?” Isaac turned to Jamie. “Back me up, man.” His brow furrowed like he was doing some complicated maths in his head. Finally, he shrugged. “I mean, he tied me to a bike this morning and had me pull him around, so maybe?” Colin snapped his fingers. “Like Rocky?” “Eh?” “Rocky Balboa?” Dani perked up excitedly. “Oh, that is the guy who goes--?” He mimed throwing his arms up and shouting. “That’s the one, boyo.” “Hah! I wish to be like Rocky!” Dani announced, eagerly grabbing the offered string from Jamie. Van Damme nodded beside him in agreement. “Hold on, now, Rocky didn’t go around tying dicks together, bruv.” “That we know of,” Moe retorted.

"Yeah, I haven't seen any of the new ones," said Colin. “Creed was dope,” said Declan. “Michael B. Jordan pulled a plane in that one.” Jan scoffed. “You mean his stuntman pulled it.”

“I don’t like Rocky,” Richard added, though no one had asked. “Guys, we do not have time to argue,” Sam implored. He worried the spool between his hands, turning it about like a puzzle. “We have to be on the pitch soon.” “Sam’s right. We got to make a decision,” Isaac said authoritatively. “What do we think? And it has to be unanimous, it can’t just be a few of us out there with strings tied to our willies.” Everyone looked around the room, waiting for someone to speak first. Jan spoke first by dropping his shorts. “I do not wish to be tied to a bike if we are wrong. It is better to be safe than sorry. Hand me the string.”

---

Beard lowered his sunglasses. “Uh, Coach? You seeing what I’m seeing?” Ted watched in confused awe as the team marched out to the pitch like a clustered, confused, delicate group of tadpoles with red string hanging out of their shorts. “Roy, what the hell did you tell them?” “What?” Roy turned around. He stilled. His body tensed all at once, and every trace of an expression left his face except for his eyes. His eyes blazed with mirth. “The plan,” he answered. He walked away to give himself a moment by the water cooler. The HR write-up better be worth it. Ted turned to Beard. “Am I having a seizure? Was that in the plan?” The world’s carefullest procession was almost upon them. Beard pushed his sunglasses back up. “Best not to ask, Coach.”

---

The HR write-up was worth it.

[astarionbraiinrot]

Last Call

Chapter 4: Arrival

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

 – Maya Angelou

What followed was a flurry of activity. Tents are put up and bedrolls laid out. Jaheira moves her bag into his and Tav’s tent. Shadowheart starts delegating tasks to the others, instructing Gale to get a cauldron of water boiling on the fire and having Wyll and Karlach gather whatever spare sheets and towels are available, before returning to start assisting Jaheira. Halsin takes Minsc and Boo with him to see if they can forage any useful plants or herbs. Lae’zel corrals little Xan, woken by all the noise, back into their own tent, then proceeds to threaten Volo with a swift maiming if he even thinks of writing anything about this. Volo, thankfully, makes himself scarce. Withers continues to idle away ominously in that little chapel on the edge of the camp, which isn’t really any change from what he’s already been doing all night, but at least he’s consistent.

For his part, Astarion had been tasked by Jaheira with sitting next to Tav, holding her hand, and not being in the way. Which he can do, certainly, there’s no place he’d rather be than right beside her. He can’t help but to feel incredibly extraneous, though.

He watches as Shadowheart washes her hands, then performs some sort of incredibly invasive examination of Tav, declaring her to be “at four centimeters,” whatever that means. When he asks, he’s told it means they’ll likely have a while before “the main event” started. When he questions how long this process would take, he’s absolutely floored to be informed by Jaheira that it’s typically many hours, and a day or more wasn’t unusual, especially the first time. He can only look at Tav in horror, choking out a whispered I am so sorry, love.

His face must be a sight, because upon seeing his wide-eyed concern at what could not possibly be a normal timeline for this sort of thing, Tav immediately starts laughing. This coincides with what must be another contraction, because she then starts trying to breathe through the laughter using the exercises Jaheira had shown them, letting out a quiet ow, ow, ow between each breath. It’s just as the contraction is tapering off that the four of them hear a sharp little snap! sound, almost like a tiny bowstring breaking, that’s followed by a slowly growing puddle appearing underneath Tav’s bottom.

Well, if they hadn’t been sure before, there was no question what was going on now.

Most of the next several hours is spent with he and Tav walking steady laps around the campsite, her being encouraged in turns by Jaheira, Shadowheart, and Halsin to pause and stand, or squat, or lean on him through the contractions. He learns several new and highly-specific skills over this time. How to help her sway through the pain. How to knead his fingers into the muscles of her back and hips in order to provide some relief. How to lead her through the breathing exercises and help her stay focused. How to grimace politely and swallow down any whimpers of pain any time Tav squeezes his hand and it feels like she’s going to crush all the little bones in his fingers.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

He rather thinks he’s doing a pretty spectacular job, all things considered. Tav, of course, is handling this with the same skill and determination she’d handled leading them through their whole tadpole adventure that had begun just over a year ago now. Which is to say, despite never having done this before, she’s at least doing a spectacular job of acting like she knows what she’s doing. Hells, she’s even been making jokes throughout, and worse, not even good jokes, including panting out a particularly lewd one mid-contraction about how this is what she gets because “vampires need permission to come inside,” which had left him sorely tempted to set himself on fire. Ugh, really. Here they are, mere hours away from becoming parents to the little monster that’s seemingly doing its best to rip her insides apart, and she’s making puns.

If it weren’t for the fact that they weren’t actually married, he’d divorce her on the spot out of principle.

More hours pass in a hazy loop of standing, sitting, swaying, squatting. When dawn begins pinkening the horizon, they move into that little chapel Withers had been occupying. Jaheira had somehow bullied the man (Skeleton? Lich? God?) out of the building, saying that it had a better purpose to serve than housing his dusty bones. A bedroll piled high with blankets and pillows had been set up for Tav to rest on, and their bags, along with Jaheira’s medical supplies, had been brought in. The final touch was to hang a blanket over the doorway to keep the sun out and scatter several lanterns around to provide light.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

He had to admit, this was a much better idea than the tent, which wasn’t exactly made to hold four people. Especially not when one of them was in the middle of ejecting a fifth person. The chapel left them with plenty of room to move about without stepping on each other’s toes.

Still more hours pass. Sometime around midday, things really start to ramp up, and he learns that what Tav had been experiencing since last night was, supposedly, the easy part of labor, not that there was an “easy” part from what he’d seen so far. Now the contractions, coming more frequently and much more intensely, have Tav gritting her teeth through the pain until she’s reminded to breathe, Tav, quick breaths, like you’re blowing out a candle, and leave her gasping when they end. He does what he can to try and help, but there really isn’t much for him to do. His job here is, for some ungodly reason, emotional support, and he’s pretty sure the only person less equipped for that task than him is Lae’zel.

Honestly, what in the fresh hells was he even doing here? What was the point of him, when he couldn’t even succeed at the simple task of “sit there and look pretty,” a task he had been the undisputed king of for two centuries. Tav had been in pain for hours, had been dealing with this for months, and he’d helped by, what? Doing the shopping? Moving some furniture around? He certainly wasn’t doing anything helpful now, which was probably his fault for not reading any of those books Jaheira had left them because they’d freaked him out, and really, the fact that they were even in this position to begin with was also his fault, because while it might take two to tango, so to speak, he’d done the math, and he and Tav hadn’t exactly had ample periods of alone time in the first months of their journey, so he was almost certain he could pinpoint the creation of this little creature to the night he and Tav had snuck off to celebrate his return to unlife after having an entire monastery collapsed on top of him (which was also his fault, though he’d never admit to that one, because he’d been the one to grab that damned mace).

And sure, Jaheira and Shadowheart said that everything was going as it should, but that could change in an instant, couldn’t it? If he had learned anything throughout the last few months of Tav’s pregnancy, it was that everyone wanted to talk to them about it. Ever since Tav had started showing, any time they went anywhere, they’d been subjected to not just unsolicited advice, but complete horror stories from random strangers, always shared with the same nonchalance as if they were talking about the weather. Everyone had a story, from the woman at the market who’d gone on about her wife nearly hemorrhaging to death with their daughter, to the man in line at the Counting House who’d regaled them with the story of sitting in his room as a young boy and hearing his mother’s screams as his younger brother was delivered feet-first, to the positively ancient old Dwarf that ran his favorite fabric shop, who’d ended what had been a rather tame retelling of her youngest’s birth with Now once she came out, I passed the afterbirth, and wouldn’t ye know, my womb came out right along with it, like I were a dumplin’ what lost its fillin’! So the midwife had to stuff it back in, ye see. Used ‘er fist, like she were punchin’ down dough. Took ‘er what must’ve been near on thirty minutes, and I were hollerin’ and swearin’ up a blue streak all the while. And I’ll tell ye, that hurt worse’n having the little’un ‘erself did! I told my fella I’d be takin’ a knife to ‘is bollocks if ‘e even thought about wantin’ fer another after all o’ that.

He knows he’s fixating, knows it’s not doing him any good to focus on what could happen rather than what is happening, but he can’t help it. Good things don’t happen to him, and he’s spent the last year waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the curtain to be pulled away and reveal that this had all been a grand ruse, an elaborate scheme, just one more shovelful on the pile of pure shit that had been his life. That he’d never actually gotten out of that tomb at all, and all of this was just his mind creating pretty stories while he slipped further and further into madness in the perpetual dark and silence of a stone box.

(Tav hadn’t been bothered in the slightest, cackling along with the woman at this apparently hilarious story. Which wasn’t surprising, considering her pre-tadpole life. He, on the other hand, had turned a rather unflattering shade of green at the far too animated hand gestures that had accompanied the woman’s story, and had had to turn away to dry-heave in the nearby bin.)

And of course, like fucking clockwork, there went his damned lungs again, hitching like they weren’t getting enough of the oxygen that they didn’t actually need godsdamnit. There was the first flush of familiar heat crawling up his neck and prickling at his scalp. There was the shivering in his core threatening to spread to his hands.

No. Nope. Absolutely not. He was not doing this right now. Because while he did have quite a few rather important things to be rightfully panicking over currently, now was not the fucking time. He had one job, keep focused on Tav, and he’d be damned if–

Turning his head to look to his right, he sees Shadowheart, a stern look on her face, with her hand poised to yank his ear again. As if he were some unruly child instead of a terrifying vampire two hundred years her senior.

He hisses through a gasp, fangs bared, as a sudden sharp spike of pain in the cartilage of his right ear pulls him out of his racing thoughts.

“Come help me with something,” she says, giving him a firm Look and nodding towards the table on the other side of the room where she and Jaheira had been taking turns mixing ingredients he couldn’t begin to name into tinctures and potions.

He looks down to Tav, laid on her side with her eyes closed, doing her best to rest on the cot beside him while she waits for another contraction to take over, and he’s about to tell Shadowheart he isn’t moving from this spot, but Tav takes her hand from his and flaps it tiredly in his direction without even opening her eyes, telling him to go on because It’s not like I’m going anywhere, and one of us may as well get to stretch their legs. So, he gets up and follows Shadowheart to the table.

When he gets there, he’s unceremoniously handed a knife and several dried mushrooms, and given instructions to chop them as finely as possible, while Shadowheart begins stripping tiny leaves from the stems of some herb. Eyes on her work, she whispers to him, “Look, there’s not much longer to go, a few hours at most, but we can’t attend to you and Tav both, so I need to know you’re not going to freak out and collapse on us.”

He bristles at that, partly because he could feel his ears turning red in embarrassment because he’d really thought he was hiding his internal panic a lot better than that, partly at her insinuating that she didn’t think he could handle this, and partly because he was starting to think that maybe he couldn’t handle this.

“I’m not taking shots at you,” she continues, “But I only have two hands, so if you pass out, I’m going to have to leave you there on the floor.” She looks at him from the corner of her eye. “There’s no shame if you need to wait outside until this is done, plenty of expectant parents do,” she says gently. “Tav would understand.” She reaches over to place a hand on his arm. “It’s not an easy process, to go through or to watch. It’s understandable if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

He lets out a long sigh, putting down the knife and bracing his hands on the table, and stares ahead at the wall trying to get some sort of hold on himself. “I’m not ‘overwhelmed,’” he says, sneering that last word like it had personally offended him. “I’m just… sitting here. Useless. Watching her go through this, and I can’t do anything to help.” He drops his head down, ears pinned back and eyes falling closed as he whispers, barely audible, “Even Godey, sadistic sack of shit that he was, would usually get bored of torturing us after ten or twelve hours and just lock us in the Kennels to cry ourselves unconscious. Tav’s been at this for almost an entire day, and she’s still got hours to go.” His voice starts to shake as the trembling he’d been fighting back finally wins, and he rasps out, “And all I can think about is all the ways this can go wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

She huffs at him, not unkindly. “Astarion, we have a cleric, two druids, a paladin, and whatever the hells Withers is, plus an entire camp’s-worth of potions and scrolls. I’m pretty sure royalty doesn’t even have births this well-attended. If anything were to go wrong, we would be able to handle it. I promise.” Grabbing his shoulders, she turns him to face her. “I’m only going to say this once, so look at me,” she says, catching his eye, “Before all this emotional sincerity makes us both sick: You are doing fine. You are in a situation that is completely out of your depth and fully out of your control, with nothing to do but watch as things happen, and it’s okay to be freaked out about it. But we can’t deal with that right now. Tav needs our focus, and she needs you by her side. You are helping, even if it doesn’t feel like it. So I need you to keep it together for a little while longer.”

With that, she gives him a little shove back towards Tav and Jaheira and turns back to her potions. He makes his way over to them, feeling slightly more in control of himself.

And if he decides to blame the nausea he’s feeling on all the talk about feelings instead of his nerves, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.

As the day nears its end, he really hopes that Shadowheart’s assessment of “a few more hours” would prove correct. Tav’s contractions were lasting longer and longer, and the intervals between them grew ever shorter. He’d helped her move between countless positions, laying on her back, on her side, kneeling, crouched on all fours, trying to find something that would provide a little relief. Tav had, during one contraction, barked at him to stop touching her, so he’d then busied himself with handing her canteens of water, helping Shadowheart with small tasks, and refilling a cloth from a bucket of some magically-conjured ice, courtesy of Gale, so Jaheira could press it to Tav’s forehead and neck.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

After a while, having been up for nearly a full day at this point, Shadowheart and Jaheira both had swapped out with Halsin for a couple hours in order to catch a quick nap. Halsin had distracted him and Tav for a time with stories of Reithwin, the rebuilding, and all the orphans in his care, before eventually pulling out a deck of cards for a few hands of Three Dragon Ante to pass the time.

Sometime after Shadowheart and Jaheira had returned, Tav had retracted her moratorium on touching, swinging in the complete opposite direction with requests for him to knead into her lower back, or to let her lean on him, or to just hold her hand. The last hour had been the worst, and he could feel Tav’s exhaustion in his own bones as what little reprieve she was getting between pains slowly disappeared. Throughout all this, there were several more invasive investigations of her innards, with words like “dilation” and “effacement” and numbers thrown back and forth between the two healers. At last, they hit whatever marked the final stretch of this ordeal, because Jaheira had followed up her quiet exclamation of “Ah, finally,” and pronouncement to Shadowheart of “ten centimeters” with “Congratulations, it seems the little one is finally ready to make its appearance.”

Tav’s tired exclamation of “Oh thank gods!” covers up the sound of his breathe punching out of him. Oh, this was really happening. Right now. For real. Right before his eyes. “Your body knows what to do, cub,” he distantly hears Jaheira saying to Tav, “Listen to it. When you feel the urge to push, do so, and I will guide you through it.”

While Shadowheart starts bringing over various supplies, he follows Jaheira’s instructions to help Tav shift into a better position for the task ahead. His eyes land on a low wooden crate at the foot of the bed, set there to act as a makeshift table. Amidst the towels, potions, and various medical supplies Shadowheart had set there, he spots a small bundle, its dark blues and soft purples standing out amidst the other objects scattered around.

That was the baby blanket he’d sewn, and the little sleepsuit Tav had picked out to go with it.

She had brought up starting on the nursery a few months ago, but he’d been hesitant, convinced that any real, tangible preparation would somehow jinx everything and draw the eyes of any of the dozen vengeful deities they’d pissed off and invite disaster. He’d come up with endless excuses over the next month for why they couldn’t do it right then, until Tav had finally called him out on it and demanded an explanation, and those fears had come flooding out of him like a burst dam. He’d eventually relented though, choosing to trust Tav’s assertion that the very mundane act of putting together the nursery was not going to attract the ire of any almighty beings who probably all had much more important and interesting things to focus on, and besides, the baby would actually need somewhere to sleep, angry gods or no.

Of course, then they’d debated over how to decorate the nursery for nearly another month. With their child being due in the spring, he’d originally wanted to go with something pastel and floral, the soft greens and yellows of a sunny spring day. A bit cliché, maybe, but appropriate. Tav had had her heart set on colors that reminded her of the night sky outside the city, though. “All those nights, sitting around the campfire with our friends, those were the first happy memories I ever made. That was the first time either of us had a real family. The first time we realized that we could be more than what we were created to be,” she’d said to him one night, as they’d lounged on the porch swing to watch the stars. “And now we’ve created something, someone, and they’ll get to be anything they want, infinite paths to choose from, innumerable as the stars. They won’t have to claw back the pieces of a life stolen from them. They’ll be free, right from the start.”

Not for the first time, he’d felt his insides turn to warm mush as she’d taken his hand, gaze still turned to the sky, and whispered,“So many things I thought I’d never have, things I’d never even known I wanted, happened under those stars. I can’t help but to want for just one more.”

And if that hadn’t set a pleasant ache going in his cold, undead heart, her leaning into him to burrow into his arms beneath the blanket they’d wrapped themselves in certainly had. He’d pressed a kiss to her temple, suddenly finding that maybe the night sky held more beauty than he’d given it credit for. “I suppose I could be persuaded on the aesthetics of stars,” he’d whispered into her hair, utterly failing to keep the smile out of his voice.

So he had sewn that blanket with swirling patches of blues and purples. Then, after writing to Halsin for help, he’d used silver thread to embroider all the constellations their friends had taught each other throughout the moonlit nights of their journey, even including a crescent moon trailed by Selune’s Tears in one corner. He’d left the opposite corner empty, leaving room to add a name. They hadn’t fully decided on one at that point, but he’d been sure they’d get to it in time.

Several minutes later, with Tav in position leaned back against him, it’s the feeling of her grip suddenly tightening on his hand as another contraction starts and the sound of her voice telling Jaheira that she needs to push that bring the world back into focus for him. Jaheira gives instructions in a steady, soothing voice, a far cry from her usual gruff no-nonsense tone, guiding Tav on how to bear down, tuck her chin, and push for counts of ten.

(They still hadn’t decided on one yet, but he felt that maybe this was not the time to mention that. He didn’t think Tav would take it well, and she didn’t need another distraction. Best to just put that to the back of his mind to be dealt with it later.)

When the contraction ends and Tav drops back against him, he feels a tightness in his chest that he thinks would feel an awful lot like his heart racing if it could still do that, and his mind focuses on only one thought.

Gods, please let this be okay.

Time passes him by with no comprehensible speed, the next hour and a half seeming to take an eternity and also no time at all. He’s so far out of his element that he’s managed to waltz right past his nerves and loop back around to a state of focused calm he usually only finds mid-combat. It wasn’t that there weren’t plenty of anxiety-inducing things happening at the moment, of course not. The current situation is probably the single-most frightening thing he’s ever had to be a part of. It’s just that the need to feel panic and nerves generally comes around when there was a chance, no matter how small, that he could do something about it, and right now he has never been more aware that he very much cannot do anything at all.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

Which is fine. Much as he might complain about being told what to do, he didn’t actually enjoy being in charge when there was planning or strategizing to be done. Oh, he’d give his opinions on every aspect for sure, they couldn’t stop him if they tried. But actually being the one responsible for calling the shots? No thank you. He much preferred when his role was being pointed at an enemy or a lock and told to take it apart. Besides, he’d spent the last year following instructions from the three women in this room. They hadn’t led him astray yet, and they seemed to have everything well in hand right now, so who was he to mess with what worked?

A pained cry in his ear brings the world back into focus. Tav is on her knees facing him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, her other hand clutching his, face pressed into his neck to muffle the not-quite-scream that’s forcing its way out of her throat as Jaheira counts her through another push. Gods, they’d been at this for so long. He wants to ask if this is normal, but now isn’t the time for him to have questions, and neither Shadowheart nor Jaheira seem worried in the least, so this must be what’s supposed to happen, right?

(Usually the first one, a little voice in his mind says, which he promptly tells to fuck right off.)

He uses his free hand to knead into the muscles at the small of Tav’s back as the contraction starts to taper off and she’s left panting, hot breath hitting his neck like the Grymforge air. As she rests her weight on him, he switches from the kneading to taking the ice-filled cloth and pressing it to her pulse points and along her back. She’d shed the last of her clothes an hour ago, any sense of modesty having gone well and truly out the window. In her words, what was the point of wearing a shirt when the evening was going to be spent with her friend and her mentor staring at her bits, anyway?

(Not that she’d had much, if any, modesty to begin with. No one in their little adventuring group did anymore. With communal trips to the river often being their only safe bathing option the first few months, and the numerous trysts and flings that had happened around camp over their seven months of traveling together, they’d all seen each other naked enough times that the sight of a companion’s bare ass didn’t even warrant notice by the end of it.)

Tav’s grip on him tightens again, and she lets out a pained, almost whining groan into his shoulder. Jaheira’s telling her to breathe through it, gentle pushes, go slowly so she doesn’t tear (tear what?! he wants to yell). The pitch and volume of her cries increases with each of the next several pushes like this, reaching a peak that has him truly worrying for the state of her vocal cords, before she slumps forward against him again. “Good girl,” Jaheira encourages her, “That is the head out. Rest and breath for a moment, you are doing very well. We are nearly done.” She lets out a small huff of a laugh. “Such a head of hair on this one. Now we know who was responsible for all that heartburn, hm?”

He sits up a little higher, trying to catch a glance, but he can’t see anything. Tav is trembling, face still buried in his neck, and he only realizes that Shadowheart has taken her hand and brought it down between Tav’s legs when he hears Tav sniffle and let out a quiet “Oh. Oh, that’s you. You’re real,” with a wet laugh. When Tav takes his own hand again a moment later, he expects her to resume her death grip. Instead, she brings it down and guides him to where Jaheira’s hand sits, and he feels suddenly the warm weight of something hard and wet and fuzzy resting in his palm. The sting of unshed tears burns his eyes as he realizes that he’s holding what might as well be the entire world in his hand at the moment.

His throat is too tight for him to get any words out, wonder at the reality of what’s happening slowly winning over worry in the war for dominance inside him. He wants to say so many things, but all he can do when he brings his hand back up to hold Tav’s is to kiss the side of her head and rest his forehead on her shoulder.

Jaheira speaks up again. “The next part is the worst of it. When you are ready, give me strong, steady pushes, and we will have these shoulders out, yes?” He feels Tav nod into his shoulder, then tense as another pain takes her and she does her best to follow Jaheira’s instructions.

They go on like this for several more minutes, Tav’s grip on his hand growing ever stronger, the hand she’d wrapped around his back fisted into his shirt so tightly he expects he’ll need someone to cast a Mending cantrip for him when this is over. He hears a murmured “first shoulder” from Shadowheart, kneeled at their side toward the end of the bed, before she gets up and gathers a towel from the makeshift crate-table and crouches next to Jaheira.

A few more pushes, the intensity of Tav’s cries building like a wave, until she lets out a screech like a hellcat that cuts off with a tearful gasp, and he wraps his arms around her to steady her as she all but drops her weight against him, panting and sweaty like she’s just come off the battlefield.

(and he rather thinks she may as well have)

There’s a flurry of activity at the end of the bed, the two healers talking quietly to each other through vigorous movements. Tav has tensed in his arms, his own spine ramrod straight in anticipation. Waiting, hoping, praying, as long seconds tick by.

Silence, like the world is holding its breath with them.

A tiny cough, and then a fierce, angry wail cuts through the night air, and the collective exhale of relief nearly shatters him.

But only for a moment.

That wiggling little creature is a baby.

Quickly, Shadowheart is at their side, helping an exhausted Tav turn over in his arms to rest back against him. Then, Jaheira is gently placing a squirming, shrieking, viscera-covered little creature onto Tav’s chest, and as he stares at it, his brain just. Stops.

His baby.

He made that. They did. Him and Tav.

It was here and alive and theirs.

And they just get to have this.

Someone’s crying. It might be him. He’s too awestruck to care.

Jaheira lays her hand on the squalling child’s back. “Congratulations,” she says, looking a little misty-eyed herself. “Say hello to your daughter.”

He all but floats through the next half hour, mind too preoccupied by what just happened to take in much else. None of this feels real. Jaheira has him cut the cord, which takes him by surprise when it’s not nearly so flimsy as he expects. Then Shadowheart collects the baby from Tav in order to give her a more thorough washing, him going with her at Tav’s insistence while she and Jaheira start the work of delivering the afterbirth.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

He watched, fascinated, as Shadowheart cleaned all the blood and grime from his daughter. She’d offered to let him try his hand at it, but he’d declined. He wanted to, but wet and wiggling as she was, he was terrified he’d drop her. Instead, the cleric walked him through the process, showing him how to hold her steady with one hand so the other would be free to clean her. Then she was dried off, and he received a crash course in diapering, the process of which was somehow both more and less complicated than he’d anticipated.

He’s shooed away back to Tav’s side after that, the afterbirth having been delivered in his absence. She’s got that look on her face, the one she only wears when she’s about to say something ridiculous. “Sorry, babe, you just missed the snack tray,” she tells him, fake pity in her voice as she nods at the bucket Jaheira is taking outside. He sees the corners of her lips twitch as she fights to keep a straight face.

“You are a vile, wretched creature, and I want a divorce,”he deadpans, face arranged in a mock scowl.

That manages to crack her, and she leans her head into his chest, tired laughter bubbling out of her.

 When Jaheira returns, they help Tav get cleaned up, and he grabs a nightgown from her pack to help her dress while Jaheira strips and replaces the bedding. He climbs into the bedroll next to Tav, holding her as they wait and watch Shadowheart attend to their daughter.

Once she’d been weighed and dressed in the little sleepsuit they’d set out earlier, Shadowheart wraps the baby in the blanket he’d made and walks her over to them. He thinks he sees her quickly wipe a tear from her eye when she places the little bundle in Tav’s arms and says, “There we are, one perfectly healthy little lady, weighing in at a very respectable six-and-a-half pounds, and born under the first stars of twilight on Ches 19.” She sets a gentle hand on the baby’s head for just a moment. “She sure knows how to make an entrance. Picked a good day, too. What day’s more fitting for the start of a new life than the Spring Equinox?”

With that, she lets them know that she’ll be outside keeping an eye on the revelry that their companions have kicked up if they need anything, and that she’ll be back in a bit to bring them something to eat and check in on them, then exits the little chapel, leaving just the three of them to get acquainted.

That startles a laugh out of him. “You, my love,” he says, curling around her, “You did that. I dare say you can take full credit for all the heavy lifting of the last nine months.” Tav merely gives a noncommittal hum and unwraps the blanket from around their daughter.

He and Tav sit there for several minutes, before she breaks the silence with an awed “Holy shit, I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Time for an inventory check, I think.” She says it in the same amused tone she’d used during their adventure whenever the shared camp chest was getting suspiciously heavy from all the mostly-useless junk their party of packrats had hoarded in there, and someone needed to sort out all the various scrap to be offloaded at the next trader. “Let’s see… ten fingers,” she says, touching their daughter’s hands. “And ten toes…” She runs her finger along tiny feet, so small they wouldn’t even span the length of his little finger. “Two eyes, a mouth, and a nose, all present and accounted for… and,” she gently lifts the baby’s upper lip, “No teeth.” She brushes her thumb over a barely-there eyebrow. “Gods, Jaheira wasn’t kidding about the hair, was she? She looks like a dandelion!” Turning to him, she doesn’t even bother to hide her laughter as she says, “Reminds me of you in the mornings.”

He scoffs in mock indignation. “How dare you, I look nothing of the sort!” Though Tav’s right about the baby at least. Now clean and dried, her head resembles nothing so much as a dandelion in full bloom, thick head of white hair standing near-vertical from her scalp at all angles.

He’s so busy looking at his daughter, that he almost misses Tav’s bemused “Your turn,” and his frantically whispered protests of “Wait- You can’t- Hold on- I don’t know how-”  fall on deaf ears as he very quickly finds himself with an armful of baby for the first time in his entire existence. He locks every muscle in his body, going stiff as the corpse he is, wide eyes staring at Tav as he sits, frozen.

“What if I drop her???” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he keeps whispering. It just seems like the thing to do. Babies like quiet, don’t they?

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Astarion, I have seen you snatch an Orthon’s bomb from midair that was thrown at your face without even a hint of a fumble. You’re not going to drop her. Relax,” she says, adjusting his arms, “It’s not that hard. Support the head with your elbow, just like that. See? You’re a natural.”

He’s not quite sure he believes that, but he slowly untenses his body, and studies the child in his arms, truly taking her in for the first time.

His daughter has a wild halo of fluffy white hair, sparse silver eyebrows that she’s furrowed in a mimicry of her mother, and a mouth seemingly stuck in a permanent pout. Bright cerulean blue eyes, Tav’s eyes, squint hazily at him through a delicate fan of white eyelashes, seemingly assessing him right back. Two tiny, pointed ears currently sit pinned back in annoyance against her still cone-shaped head. Her hands are curled into fists and tucked up under her chin, while her somewhat-gangly little legs kick out at him. She’s red, and wrinkly, and unbelievably small. Overall, she looks like a tiny, angry, geriatric goblin.

And, excluding Tav, he thinks she might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s been keeping a tight rein on his composure so far, but he’s completely unprepared for the rush of emotions that takes him out like a kick to the knees when, while brushing a finger across her palm, she wraps her tiny little hand around it, holding it like a lifeline, and he realizes all at once that everything is okay. Tav and the baby were both alive and healthy, no monsters from their past had jumped out of the shadows to steal them away, no capricious gods had turned their ire on them in revenge, his little family was safe and, unbelievably, happy, and all those things he’d spent months worrying over hadn’t happened.

The sound he makes as he bursts into tears could, most charitably, be called a whimper, and he has just enough presence of mind left over to hope that no one outside had heard, before his thoughts are muffled by Tav’s scent and the sound of her and their daughter’s dual heartbeats as Tav pulls him into her arms, carefully sandwiching the baby between them. He frees an arm to wrap around Tav, clutching her to him as tightly as he dares, stifling his tears in the crook of her neck, and finally, finally, let’s himself believe that this isn’t a dream. He wasn’t going to wake up to find himself trapped back in that tomb, there was no second shoe waiting to drop, no one was coming to take this from him, and the “everything life had to offer” he’d told Tav he’d wanted all those months ago wasn’t just a possibility, but a reality.

The hours after that had slowly melted into a carefully controlled chaos. Shadowheart had eventually come back with sustenance for the both of them. Then, she’d led Tav through their daughter’s first feeding, which the girl had taken to with enthusiasm, if not decorum, her nonstop litany of soft, satisfied grunts leaving no doubt about whether she was enjoying her meal. He’d watched, enthralled, as her pointed little ears twitched with each swallow, like a newborn kitten. Once finished, she’d been passed off to him for burping, requiring very little encouragement on his part before his gentle pats had forced a sound out of her so loud it startled him.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

“Now, I wonder who else I know that eats like that?”Tav had commented, prompting a laugh from Shadowheart.

He’d decided not to dignify that with a response.

Soon after, the high of adrenaline Tav was riding had started to run out. While she’d initially wanted everyone to meet the baby right then, Shadowheart had reminded her that they’d all still be at the campsite for another night, and insisted she get some rest. Tav had eventually relented, and Shadowheart and Jaheira had departed for their own tents, leaving he and Tav alone with their daughter to enjoy their first night together as a family of three.

As they lay together on the bed facing each other, their daughter splayed out between them emitting breathy little snores, he remembers something. “You know, darling, I didn’t want to bring it up earlier, considering we were all rather busy, but we never did decide on a name.”

“I… had been thinking on that, actually, and there was one I thought you might like. It seemed fitting,” she says.

He smiles, reaching over and tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear. “Not a namesake, I hope? Because you know if we name her after one of those weirdos outside, we’ll have to name her after all of them, and I don’t think she’d ever forgive us for giving her nine names.”

“No, not that,” she says, huffing out a laugh. “Though I… may have… run the idea past Shadowheart of ‘Jenevelle’ for a middle name. Considering the sound she made was one that I’m pretty sure only Scratch could hear, I think she was okay with it.”

He looks down at the sleeping child resting between them. “Well, I suppose if she isn’t going to be using it, we may as well have it, hm?” He says, running his finger softly over a tiny, curled fist. “What was it you’d had in mind for her first name, though?”

“It was one I actually ran across a long time ago, a character in a storybook my foster parents had given me when I was small. I’d forgotten all about it, but it came back to me earlier because of what Shadowheart said about today being the Spring Equinox and her being born under the first stars of the night,” she says, taking his hand in hers to fiddle with his fingers. She did that when she was having trouble describing something. She’d healed fairly well from the damage Orin and the tadpole had done to her brain, but she still struggled sometimes with finding the words for things, and she’d found that having that bit of tactile distraction helped her order her thoughts. “It’s an old Elven name. The meaning doesn’t translate exactly, the closest would probably be “little star,” though “new star” might be more accurate.” She pauses to gather her thoughts. “It used to be a word for something small and bright that brings light to darkness, like the first flowers in spring, or twilight stars, and it was sometimes used as a term for things that represented renewal, justice, and innocence.”

She soft smile she turns on him makes him melt. “I thought it was fitting, since now that she’s here, it’s kind of like all three of us are starting from scratch, you know? Renewal, justice, innocence. I want that for her. For us, too.”

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat of the tightness that had wormed its way in there, “I think we could all use a little more of that in our lives, considering… well, all of it.”

Between them, their daughter shifts in her sleep, peacefully oblivious to the conversation happening around her.

He turns his hand over to take Tav’s fidgeting fingers in his. “Now, don’t keep me in suspense, my love. What’s this magical storybook name you’ve pulled from the shadows in that mind of yours?”

It takes another hour, which they spend watching their sleeping daughter as though she might disappear if they took their eyes off her, but eventually Tav loses the fight against her looming exhaustion and succumbs to sleep. He’s well on his way to joining her, when a thought occurs to him.

── ･✩*₊˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖₊*✩･ ──

He slides out of the bed, then carefully, as if she were made of spun glass, he picks up his daughter, wrapping her in her blanket and cradling her to his chest, before stepping out of the little chapel and into the cool night air of their camp. It’s a lovely night, the quiet broken only by the sounds of crickets and occasional snores from the tents scattered around the clearing. The sky is painted with what feels like millions of stars.

He pauses a moment to take it all in. He hadn’t done that when they’d been camped here before, too focused on trying to make sure he lived another day to really appreciate it. But looking back, so many of the things he cherished now had found their start at this camp. This was where he’d first tried to bite Tav. It was also where she’d caught him and then let him do it anyway. It was where he’d started putting his nice, simple plan into action, before it would all fall apart because he’d tripped and fell into his own trap. It was where their ragtag group thrown together by circumstance had started to become friends, of all things, with nights spent around the campfire sharing food and wine and stories.

He meanders his way across camp, eyes scanning the river’s edge, watching the fireflies as they dance in the moonlight, until his gaze lands on his quarry. There, just on the bank, standing in the same spot he’d occupied throughout their initial time at this camp, was Withers, back turned to him as he stared out over the river. Taking a breath to steel himself, he settles his daughter more securely in his arms, and approaches the… skeleton. God? Being. The jury was still out on exactly what Withers was. Nothing normal, that was for sure.

He walks until he stands beside Withers, looking out across the water in silence while he tries to gather his thoughts.

After a few minutes, Withers eventually breaks the silence. “I expected thee,” he intones.

“You did?” That surprises him. He hadn’t expected to sneak up on the man, but he hadn’t exactly made an appointment either.

Withers gives a hum of confirmation. “Thou hast questions. Some yet may be answered.” He turns his cloudy gaze on Astarion. “Ask them, if thou whilt.”

He swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. “It’s not a question, really. Not exactly. It’s just… when Tav- When she di-” He cuts himself off as his voice breaks. He’d locked those memories in the back of his mind, determined never to revisit them, and unearthing them felt like watching it happen all over again. He looks down at his daughter, curled up against his chest, safe and content, and lets out a long sigh as he blinks back his tears. “When Tav killed Orin, and Bhaal… took back his blood from her. It only occurred to me a few tenday ago, and I don’t think Tav’s realized at all, but… but she was already pregnant then. And…”

He pauses in an attempt to stop his voice from shaking. “When you brought her back. You said that she’d created new life free from Bhaal’s influence. At the time, I thought you were just talking about Tav, but I think…” He finally looks Withers in the eye, tearing up as he whispers, “I think you knew. When you revived her. You brought them both back, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Withers answers. And, per usual, does not elaborate.

“How did you know? Tav didn’t even know,” he asks.

Withers says nothing for a moment, then, “I know every life. Those who are mortal, and those who are not. Those yet still living, and those who have passed from this world. Those who walk this plane, and those,” he nods toward the sleeping infant, “Who still await their turn. The child’s soul was known to me from her very inception.”

“And will she…” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself for his next question. One he both needs to know the answer to and dreads to hear. “Is she a Bhaalspawn too? Can he control her?”

“No,” Withers replies, and Astarion’s knees go weak for a moment. He almost laughs in relief at the familiarity of the scratchy drawl coating that single word. “Bhaal’s influence was removed in its entirety. Both thy bosom companion and thy progeny are beyond his reach.”

He takes a minute to center himself and just enjoy the moment as his last worry is laid to rest. He lays a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, smoothing out the little wrinkle that’s formed there as she furrows her brow in her sleep, dreaming whatever it is babies dream of. He catches the scent of that new baby smell he’d been convinced Jaheira had been making up to mess with him, and brings her up to rest on his shoulder, his face turned to press into the bright, dandelion puff of her hair, allowing time to pass him by while he revels in the peace of the night.

“There was something else,” he says, once again turning to Withers. “A request. For her. If you’d be willing.” His daughter stirs in his arms as he gestures to her, opening her eyes to peer sleepily at him.

After a while, he remembers the other reason he’d come out here. A much happier reason.

“Indeed. What request wouldst thou make on behalf of thy progeny?” Withers asks, and Astarion thinks he hears curiosity coloring his tone.

“Well, there’s this rite that Halsin told us about, back when we’d first found out Tav was expecting. For when a baby is born into an Elven community,” he says, thoughts for once racing in a good way. “They’re supposed to be presented to an elder, or someone who’s done the parents a great service, and that person would welcome them and announce their name. Tav thought it was sweet, but she didn’t really feel strongly about it one way or the other, especially considering that neither of us had anyone who fit the role.”

He's finding it surprisingly hard to explain himself. He’s used to being able to gesture while he talks, but his hands are currently otherwise occupied.

“Anyway, um…” He swallows, mouth suddenly gone dry. “Given… recent revelations. I was hoping you might be amenable to doing it? Since you’re the reason she’s even here. The reason both of them are here.” He sighs, looking into his daughter’s blue eyes, watching him hazily. “Halsin said Elves hold onto the memory of that rite for their entire lives. I don’t… I don’t really remember my mortal life, not even in Reverie. Everything before I was turned is just a dark void. Tav only remembers bits and pieces of her life before the tadpole, and most of the time she wishes she didn’t. There’s nothing we can do about that now.”

A gust of wind causes him to tuck the blanket a little bit tighter around the baby. “But her… I want her to have that memory. I can’t give her a family history to be proud of, or pass down old traditions. I don’t know anything about Elven culture or the history of our people that I can share. I can’t do any of that for her. But, if nothing else, I can give her this.”

Withers’ face becomes contemplative. “Mortals are such… curious creatures.” He says, slowly. “Thou hast lamented thy lack of familial bonds, and yet, dost thou not have such in abundance in this very camp? Separate, all of thee were but single threads, plucked from thy individual fabrics, muted and fraying at thine ends. Without unity. But together, thou hast been woven into a tapestry anew, all the more pleasing for thy differences, and held firm by the bonds thou hast formed in each other.” He sees the corners of Withers’ mouth turns up in a faint smile. “Mourn not for what has been lost. Thy time is better spent enjoying what thou hast found.”

Withers steps closer to him now. “Throughout time, mortals have created many ways to welcome new souls. Some now ancient, and long forgotten. Others not yet come to be. To perform such a rite is a sacred duty, and an honor. And one that is within my power to grant.” Astarion swears he feels the faintest crackles of magic in the air as Withers holds out his hands. “So grant it I shall.”

Carefully, he places his daughter into Withers’ arms. The skeletal man holds her close, shifting her to the crook of his elbow as his other hand comes up to rest over her heart, boney palm splayed across her chest. She stares up at him, eyes wide, and grasps one of Withers’ fingers in her tiny fist. Withers’ next words are spoken directly to her, his voice almost seeming to echo, as if weaving a spell. “Child, thy journey to life has been fraught and perilous. Thou hast known the bitter taste of death and the chaos of battle before even thy first breath. And still, thou hast triumphed over this adversity, thy strength of spirit inextinguishable, and thy soul shines all the brighter for it. I wish thee many bright days ahead, and that thy will holds firm even in times of darkness. Let wisdom be thy guide in life, and thou may one day turn thy wheel of fate to thine own purposes.”

“Thy name has been recorded. I welcome thee to this life, Astraea.”

He sees the faintest glow of magic surround them, as Withers continues. “Now, we have met, and I know thy face.”

[tsaritza-mika]

Heart of Glass

Summary: It's been a long, trying day in the Shadowlands, and though everyone came back just fine, some scars are only on the inside Warnings: None Named Tav: Mika (Elven Bard) Suggested Listening: Nothing Else Matters - Metallica (acapella) Voiceplay feat. J.NONE

“Has anyone seen Mika?” Astarion’s brow furrowed as he raised his voice across camp. The area usually kept warmer from everyone’s favorite bard as she either played her violin or sang softly by the fire after a long day of adventuring, somehow felt so much colder without her in the haunting silence of the surrounding Shadowlands. Sure there were still sounds, but none that sounded even half as welcoming as a typical forest, and Astarion had grown rather fond of the leader of their merry little band of weirdos. Delicious blood aside of course, though he’d never admit it.

Catching sight of Shadowheart peeking out of her tent, her long, dark hair flowing behind her as she brushed it out, it seemed as though she felt the same now that she was aware of their missing companion. “Ugh, she must have wandered off again. I do enjoy her free spirit, but honestly... Of all the places to do it!”

“I don’t suppose we’d be open to putting a bell on her, Shadowheart?”

“Astarion, it’s bad enough that I’m always keenly aware of when the two of you just so happen to disappear for a while in the middle of the night, but adding a bell to all of that would take it from mildly annoying to insufferable...!”

“Oh, but now that makes the thought even more appealing!”

“What’s going on? Mika’s missing?” Rolling his eyes, Astarion turned to find Gale approaching with some bowls of stew he’d prepared for the evening. Handing one off to Shadowheart, he glanced between the two of them curiously.

“Well I mean, not missing, so much as we’re just not sure where she may have wandered off to...” 

“Oh, well that is still a bit concerning-”

“Chk! You all speak as if you’ve never craved some space with which to clear your heads!” Gale jumped slightly at the sudden arrival of Lae’zel, though thankfully the stew remained in its bowl and not on his robes. “Honestly, if her mood had been a predator, all of you would have been dead ten times over by now. It’s a miracle any of you made it this far...”

“An unwelcome observation as usual Lae’zel, but if you know something, it would be more helpful to just come out with it.”

Just as annoyed as ever whenever she had to interact with Shadowheart for very long, Lae’zel rolled her eyes at the cleric in a way that made them wonder if she managed a glimpse of her own tadpole in the process. “It’s pathetic to think that she considers you all her dear companions, when you fail to notice when the very air around her is heavy with melancholy. Whatever it was that happened after you lot left with her this morning, something must have occurred that would weigh on her soul.”

“Hm, a lot happened today though... We managed to locate the Harpers, and though their base was also attacked and many were lost, we managed to keep Isobel from being taken....”

“Most of the rest of the day had been spent dealing with those, well what was left of what I’m assuming was once people in town. We did finally manage to infiltrate Moonrise before needing to head back, but-”

“I think I know.”

“Are you so confident in that, Astarion?” Frowning deeper at Lae’zel’s questioning, Astarion crossed his arms with a huff.

“I am. Did you see what direction she was headed Lae’zel?” Watching as she scrutinized him for a few moments longer, he smirked when it seemed she finally relented, reaching over to roughly take the stew from Gale and enjoying seeing the man openly flinch.

“Down the hill toward the river’s edge. She took her violin with her, so finding her shouldn’t be too difficult, even for one such as you, Astarion.” Deciding to not stick around long enough for the others to either join in with Lae’zel’s jabs or argue on who should go find her, Astarion quickly exited, heading toward the thin trail near the edge of camp that led down toward the foggy riverbed below. 

Once down by the water’s edge, Astarion glanced about, not finding much to indicate where exactly Mika had gone to past that. Seemed she truly had wanted to disappear for a bit, as not even some of the nearby wet sand or reeds looked to have been disturbed in a way that would give away someone had been there. Almost about to simply pick a direction, his ears caught the soft, sad wail he’d become familiar with whenever she played her violin. Keeping as quiet as possible, he followed the sad tune, hoping that it wasn’t some sort of trick by yet more harpies like back at the grove’s ocean edge. The longer he walked, the more suffocating the shadows seemed, even with Isobel’s protective spell, and as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, the feeling had him a twinge worried about Mika deciding to get out here all on her own.

Finally coming across the isolated little strip of riverbed she’d wandered to, he kept to the shadows for a moment, watching as a tear slipped out from under thick, dark lashes and drifted slowly down her cheek. Like every song she played, this tune also seemed to hold strong emotions behind it, though it was more than a tad upsetting with how sad it felt. If he still had a beating heart, it would likely feel heavy in his chest at hearing her play. When it seemed she had finished, she knelt down in the soft dirt, placing what appeared to be a small candle on a thick piece of driftwood. Using a spell to light the wick, he watched as she set the candle adrift in the calm waters, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

Well, if he was going to say something, now was as good a time as any. Slowly coming out from his hiding spot, he didn’t make any efforts to hide as he approached, not wanting to scare her off. “Darling?”

Jumping a little, Mika wiped at the wetness on her cheeks as she stood, the still present flush of pink on her cheeks and inability to keep a steady smile on her face betraying the reassurance she was hoping for. “Oh, ah, Astarion! Eh, sorry. Was I gone very long? Or were you hungry at all?”

“Well, no... I mean, you weren’t gone long, but it was quite obvious you weren’t at camp. Is something wrong?”

“O-oh...I, sorry about that. I just...I guess I just needed a minute.”

“Am I allowed to ask what for?” It was unsettling when she wasn’t smiling. At least it was whenever she wasn’t in front of their enemies; she was a fantastic actor then. That silver tongue of hers had managed to get them places others would have either died trying or would have had to fight tooth and nail to get through. It was also a bit concerning since his whole plan hinged on being able to deceive her into caring enough to guarantee his safety, but so far so good. If she had been taken by Cazador instead of him, she likely would have usurped Leon as his tormentor’s favorite a million times over with how easily people seemed to gravitate to her. Watching carefully as she hesitated, he frowned and came up behind her, setting his hands on her shoulders as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes again.

“It’s, it’s not something you need to worry about, Astarion. I’ll be fine in a bit-”

“But you’re not fine now; and I might not be free in a bit.”

“...”

“Darling, what in the realms is so terrible that it’s stolen your smile from me?”

“...I am...”

“Hm? You’re what, love?”

“I am... I’m that terrible thing...” Her shoulders trembled, head falling as her hands came up to cover her face and fresh tears escaped down her cheeks. Whatever it was that had broken her that day he couldn’t fathom. Comfort wasn’t exactly something he was particularly good at, but with everything she did for him and everyone else they traveled with, he would try at least. Slowly sliding his arms around her, he glanced out toward the river, the candle she had set adrift beginning to disappear in the thick, shadowy gloom was almost gone. Only a small, pale glow was left, and even that too would be gone soon enough.

“What do you mean, my sweet? How are you terrible? Who would ever tell you such a thing?”

“...I...I murdered them...”

“Murdered? Who? When?”

“...Fezzerk, and his friends...” ...Well that was something he didn’t see coming. Caught off guard by the confession, Astarion pulled back in confusion, turning her in his hold to try looking her in the eye.

“The Goblins? I...darling, are you feeling alright? I mean... they’re just Goblins! Not even a tenday ago all of us slaughtered the lot of them in that abandoned temple and took out their leaders! Why the hells would you be upset about killing three more?”

“No, no Astarion, that was different!”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain it to me, Mika. Because as far as I can see, Goblins are Goblins.”

Letting her go, he gave her a moment to collect herself, managing to clear the fallen tears from her face, though her cheeks were still a bit damp. “It was different at the temple, Astarion. At the temple, and at the village. They were hostile, they had weapons and numbers. It was battle, no matter what, it was eventually going to come down to them or us. Everyone knew that, on both sides. But today...”

“Today...?”

“There’s no other way to look at it. It was, just murder! Either way there was no fighting chance for them! Fezzerk and the others... Astarion, they were begging for their lives, and I just...”

Watching her carefully as more tears came, and she sunk slowly to kneel in the dirt once more, curling over herself and wrapping her arms around her trembling frame... Even despite being able to see why she was upset, if he was honest with himself he still didn’t really care all that much. Goblins were still Goblins, after all. But to Mika, who seemed to value each soul, without regard to who it came from until the moment they were deemed a threat, having killed these Goblins when it was clear they had no fighting chance and were begging to just be let go... Apparently part of her had broken with the act, almost as if made of glass.

Sighing quietly, he frowned as he glanced out toward the water’s smooth surface, the candle and its glow now gone, taken over by the all consuming shadows. “...It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Yes it is! Because of me, they’re dead! All they wanted was to live, and I-”

“You wanted the same thing. Yet, we had an objective to complete: infiltrate Moonrise and discover what we could about the cult and Ketheric Thorm. All of us, especially you, we had to maintain that we were followers of the Absolute. We were surrounded by enemies who would just as soon as cleave us in two as they would welcome us into the fold.”

“But Ketheric ordered them to leave Fezzerk and his friends’ fate to me! I was ordered to decide to either kill them or let them go!”

“And what do you think would have happened if you’d have released them? Everyone who was there in that room would have witnessed you showing mercy when only seconds earlier, Ketheric had decreed that there was no more room for that under his leadership.” A frown came to his face as it seemed to sink in for her that she really had chosen the best option, even if it left her feeling painfully hollow inside. 

“...I’m sorry...”

“What for now?”

“I don’t know...everything? I know I’m not cut out for this...”

“I mean, if we’re being fair here, darling, nobody else in our little group of freaks is really qualified either...”

“No...no, I know Wyll or Karlach or Halsin could do better than me. Even Shadow or Lae’zel wouldn’t have this many doubts or weaknesses...”

“Should I be offended that you neglected to mention myself?”

“You said you weren’t a details person, Star, and those are kind of in the job description as leader.”

“Okay that’s fair, but I still feel like I should be maybe a little offended...” A smirk came to his face as he managed to pull a semi-strangled chuckle from her. Tear tracks still on her face as she sat up, Mika ran a hand through the thick layers of her pale, ashen hair, the strands catching the barest light and shining like silver. “Why don't you join me in my tent tonight?”

Managing something of a weak smile, she looked up at him from behind silvery-blonde locks, the deep blue-green in her eyes shining like the ocean under starlight. “If you’re okay with it, then... I think I’d like that...”

“Well it would certainly make things easier for me. You did already invite me for a bite, and it would be far simpler to just fall asleep after anything else we may get up to...” It was hard to not at least smirk when her weak smile widened with more life. Though he’d rather be staked than admit it out loud, seeing her smile felt almost as good as standing in the warm sunlight. Waiting a moment for her to relax, Astarion stood and offered his hand to help Mika back to her feet. “Come, let’s get back before everyone else starts setting the entire Shadowlands on fire in an asinine attempt to find us. Gods only know how much chaos will happen in camp if we aren’t there to reel everyone in.”

“Says the man who was so excited to have a demented swamp hag know about our tadpoles, and interrupting a bugbear having sex with an ogre...?”

“Ugh, honestly Mika, where’s your sense of adventure? Just admit it, without me you’d have already been bored to tears with so many responsible companions around...”

Finally managing to laugh for the first time since that morning, she smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist, gently urging her back toward the direction of camp. “Oh, you’re so right! How could I ever have questioned the great Astarion Ancunin? How positively scandalous of me!”

“Careful darling, or I might get used to hearing all of that...”

“Oh fuck me...” “Maybe later if you’re lucky-”

“Hush!”

[blackjackkent]

As the last of the gith forces fall, Rakha watches as the illithid flicks a hand and re-establishes the globe of power holding its prisoner in place.

It then floats back towards her, looks her up and down placidly. Its agitation from a few moments earlier has faded. She can see an echo of the guardian's steady calmness in its bearing.

"Thank you," it says gravely. "That was too close."

She looks back at it with blank, exhausted eyes. The beast has calmed for the moment; with the illithid back in control of itself and its prisoner, that strange peace has settled back across Rakha's mind, the beast and tadpole both settled into quiescence. She can feel all the weariness of the last few nights of broken sleep staring to soak through her, like acid burning down to her bones.

And the questions become clearer now too, as her mind empties. Who are you? Why did you deceive us?

"Don't look at me like that," it says, with a flash of something like sardonic humor even in the monotone of its voice. "I am a mind flayer. Yes. Without me, you would be a slave to the Absolute."

"It's obscene," Lae'zel cuts in sharply before Rakha can respond. "To owe my life to a damned ghaik!" She steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Rakha, and stares the enormous monster down. "No more lies. No more tricks. I *will* have answers!"

Rakha nods slightly. Her ferocity is dampened somewhat compared to Lae'zel's - but in the need for answers, they are very much in sync. "Tell me everything," she says flatly.

The illithid cocks its head to one side, then raises one hand. There's a flash of light around them and then visions roll through Rakha's head, the story unfolding through the tadpole connection in the space of a few moments.

"It's like I said before - I'm just like you. An adventurer. I came from Baldur's Gate, though I was never one to be constrained by circumstance. I longed for more."

"That longing brought me to Moonrise Towers on a search for treasure. To a colony of mind flayers who caught me, changed me into what I am now."

"For years I served the elder brain - the one you know as the Absolute. I was a thrall like any other. But I was fortunate. I broke free, and started a new life in my old city.

"I sustained myself on criminals. Unglamorous, but there were plenty of them, rarely missed, and they fueled me while I did my work. I had the good fortune to meet Duke Stelmane. We formed a partnership, and through her I became the governing force behind the Knights of the Shield, the largest mercantile operation in Baldur's Gate. People referred to me as the Emperor - such was my influence. Though of course they had no idea what I really was."

"My needs were sated. I was happy - for a while. Until my true nature was discovered by the tyrant himself - Lord Gortash. He tore me from my home and brought me back to the brain where I became a slave once again. A slave he continued to call the Emperor."

Rakha's vision clears, and she finds the illithid still watching her intently. "The name was intended as a slight," it finishes. "To remind me of the heights from which I fell. But I have grown fond of it. It encapsulates well who I've become."

It's a lot to take in. Rakha struggles to process the wave of images, the answers and facts that come with it. This illithid - the guardian, the Emperor - was once human, at a time more than a century ago; in the memory, Moonrise Towers was intact and soaked in sunlight, before Thorm's curse. The illithids transformed it but it was strong enough to escape the elder brain's influence. It ruled in secret in the city until Gortash recaptured it.

And now it is here in the Prism. The story has a hole in it. "How did you end up in here?" she demands.

"Gortash sent me on a mission to retrieve the Astral Prism. I was one of many - but the first to find it," the illithid answers calmly. It does not seem bothered by her demands for information; if anything, it seems somewhat relieved to tell its story at last. "Hwo Gortash or the other Chosen learned of its existence, I do not know. The moment I found it, I felt a change. My free will returning. I followed the feeling inside... and found the githyanki."

It jerks its head, indicating the prisoner inside the prismatic orb behind it. The gith has gone slack and still again, restrained by the power holding it in place. "I realized what the Prism was for - containment. While my body was within the Prism's bounds, my mind was free. I could resist the elder brain, the Chosen. Better yet - I could plan to overthrow them. All I needed to do was subdue the githyanki and find allies in the outer world."

Again that slight cock of the head to the side, its eyes fixing on Rakha's. "You."

Rakha lets out a slow, heavy breath through her nose. For once, these truly are the answers she seeks. Pieces of the picture are coming together that have been hidden from her for so long. "That githyanki in the sphere - who is it?" she asks.

The illithid turns, looking at the restrained gith thoughtfully. "Prince Orpheus," it says, matter-of-fact. "Son of the first leader of the githyanki."

"Orpheus!" Lae'zel snaps, her eyes widening. "Impossible! He was slain by Jhe'stil Kith'rak himself!"

Except he wasn't, Rakha realizes suddenly. Facts slam together in her head, so powerfully that she flinches inwardly.

When Voss invaded their camp, he spoke of the one in the Prism, someone he had been trying to free for eons. Rakha had assumed he meant the guardian - but he meant Orpheus. So did Vlaakith when she sent Rakha into the Prism to destroy its occupant. The gith obsession with the artifact has never been about the guardian at all, but instead because it contains Orpheus... Gith's son, the Prince of the Comet from the slates Lae'zel has read aloud to her, challenger to Vlaakith's authority over the gith.

"Quite possible, I assure you," the illithid says coolly, while Rakha grapples with this revelation. "His power has been the source of your continued protection against the Absolute - the power to disrupt hivemind communication. It is the same power that enabled Orpheus's mother to bring about the fall of the Illithid Empire eons ago, a power she passed on to him, and that I leveraged for you."

Its eyes flick intently to Lae'zel for a moment, then back to Rakha. "When Orpheus's mother left, a usurper took her place. Vlaakith declared herself 'queen' of the githyanki. Vlaakith wanted his power, but Orpheus rose against her. And so she sealed him and his honor guard within this Prism. Bound by infernal chains, Orpheus could never leave. Bound by duty, his guard never would."

It clenches one fist at its side. Rakha remembers the expression of exhaustion one night in the guardian's face - the mention of eternal struggles against those who would interrupt its protection.

"They were close to breaking my hold on their prince," the illithid says, and Rakha can hear the faintest echo of that exhaustion in its expressionless tone. "And if they had succeeded, we would be lost." It inclines its head slightly at Rakha, and she feels the tadpole in her head give a gentle, answering squirm. "I am relieved you have embraced your potential enough that you could help me eliminate them. Alone, Orpheus will be much easier to control."

"Control him?!" Lae'zel cries, again cutting across whatever Rakha might think to say in response. "Tsk'va! You must return him to his people!"

"That would be a terrible idea," the illithid snaps back with equal force.

Rakha's head is starting to spin with the onslaught of information, of newly conflicting motivations. Of course, if this is Orpheus, Lae'zel would want to free him, now that she has been declared an enemy of Vlaakith; Orpheus is Vlaakith's enemy as well, a potential ally. But the Emperor's protection of Rakha's mind is rooted in Orpheus's abilities, by some mechanism Rakha doesn't quite understand.

"What happens if we free Orpheus?" she asks warily.

"The moment he is free, he will attack you," the illithid says flatly. "Your only defense would be to kill him, and in so doing - you would doom us both."

Another squirm of the tadpole in Rakha's head.

Narrator: Even though he is subdued, you feel Orpheus's revulsion - a pulsing hatred that cannot be contained. The Emperor is telling the truth. To him you are just another wretched illithid.

The Emperor watches her process this knowledge, and nods slightly in response. "You carry a tadpole," it says. "As far as Orpheus is concerned, you are already illithid. A sworn enemy."

It drifts a step closer, its eyes narrowing intently. "Just like me."

(tbc in next post cos this scene is enormous. XD )

[thebawdybaldurian]

Halsummer Day 5

First Argument/Disagreement

Winding down on SFW Halsummer! Though this prompt led to a NSFW scene that I’ll post on my Patreon.

As the tadpolers prepared to leave the Last Light Inn in search of the Nightsong, Halsin noticed that Minthara was also packing up her meager belongings. He went to find Tav, who was trying to dry her hair upside down near the fire after her bath. He placed his hand gently on her lower back to let her know he was there. “Nearly ready to head out,” she spoke through her knees, recognizing the gentle touch of his large hand. “Assuming I don’t catch my hair on fire, but Gods know when I’ll be able to wash it again.”

“Why is she coming with us?” He asked, summoning a light Gust of Wind to billow through her hair to help with the process.

“What?” She asked, shaking her fingers through her strands to check the dryness.

“Minthara. Why is she coming with us? Shouldn’t she remain here under the watch of the Harpers?”

“We have no idea what we are going to be facing once we get to this mausoleum. We need all the manpower we can get,” she tipped her head back up, her face flushed.

“I will be there with you this time,” he replied, smoothing her hair down.

“Yes, but I’d much rather throw her at a pack of shadow beasts than you,” she reached up and caressed his face. “I know you don’t like her, but she’s useful.”

“She’s dangerous,” he frowned, letting his hand linger on the nape of her neck, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

“How are you still a sweetheart when you are arguing with me?” She stood on her toes to kiss him, hoping to sway him. He kissed her back, but let out a low growl in his throat, indicating his frustration with her.

“I’m not arguing…I’m just…You only saw a glimpse of Minthara in the goblin camp. She had those beasts torture me for days. She told me how she was going to destroy my entire grove,” he finally pulled away.

“Believe me, I want to kill her for what she did to you…but to be fair, she was still under the influence of the Absolute,” Tav replied. “That doesn’t excuse her behavior at all, but it is something to consider.”

“But how much is that influence versus the natural temperament of her kind?” Halsin gently rebuked her. “The drow are ruthless. What is to stop her from turning on all of us once we find this Nightsong?”

“Nothing really, expect perhaps her want for vengeance. If she makes a play for it, then we’ll kill her. We vastly outnumber her. Regardless, she will be closely watched at camp. Any doubts to her allegiance and she is gone…alright?”

He frowned, chewing his lip slightly while he studied Tav’s face. Her stubbornness was endearing sometimes, but today was not one of those occasions. “Alright,” he finally sighed. “But don’t think I won’t gloat a little if she does turn on us.”

“My love, I will make you a honey-soaked cake that says ‘you were right’ on it, if that happens.”

“This is the first I am hearing about you being able to cook,” he teased, pulling her closer. “You certainly don’t contribute at camp.”

“Ooooo!” She purred, grinning widely. “You’re sassy this morning. I think Astarion is starting to rub off on you…it’s kinda cute.”

“I will show you exactly how cute if we don’t get a move on,” he growled, squeezing her backside.

“Is that right?….Well…since this was our first argument…should we have make up sex in that washroom real quick?”

[alcetryx]

I’m back to be horrible at 4am again

Astarion watching tav grow old

Tav so feeble they can’t leave bed or walk without assistance

Tav’s memories slipping, they constantly talk about how they were a mighty warrior with their friends fighting alongside them

Tav only remembering Astarion a few times a week

Astarion not wanting to face reality and thinks “surely tav will recover from this momentary forgetfulness”

Tav getting sick and teasing astarion “You take care of me a lot young man, I might think you are into older folk”

“Actually, my sweet, you’re quite young for me.”

Tav doesn’t recover and Astarion watches the love of his life slowly forget him and slowly pass away from illness.

“You survived tadpoles, broken bones, hags, our MANY misadventures. Our dhampirs. But you couldn’t survive aging. Why must you leave me? Why, after all of this time, do you decide NOW to go away from this place? OUR place. Our home. You should have loved me more than your mortality. I get to love you eternally and you aren’t here! You left me. You stupid, sad oaf. Gods. I love you. Come back to me… please.”

A note in shaky, barely legible writing on the beside table that reads:

“I did not mean to go. I did not mean to wreck you. I am tired, my love. Forgive me.

Yours forevermore,

Darling”

ugh this reminds me of that beautiful piece of fanart going around that made me ugly cry where Tav dies next to him smiling and he sits with them watching one last sunrise, waiting for it to take him. More sadness under the break -

I think about this horrible scenario a lot and it makes spawn astarion so tragic.

I think a worse version of himself could come out and start seeking desperate answers to try to extend/alter Tav's lifespan.

Want EXTRA pain? He finally finds a way to extend their lifespan but not reverse the process of the aging that's already happened. Tav is already deep in the cognitive/physical downswing - perhaps in their final months, but Astarion isn't ready to let go of his love yet.

They go on like that for years. Some days are better than others. Every time that he thinks he's made a mistake and feels an inkling of regret, Tav has a pretty good day and he's encouraged, willfully ignoring the fact that the bad days far outnumber the good. He is a selfless caretaker, he doesn't mind.

Most days Tav has no idea what's going on anymore. He thinks that maybe there's a cure for their health decline too, but even a devil won't make a bargain for such a thing, laughing in his face. Eventually he is forced to face the the consequences of his selfish decision when Tav starts having episodes where they forget who he is, but not what he is, which leads to some pretty harrowing experiences as the distressed, now elderly Tav tries to flee him in their own home. He has to keep the door locked in the daytime, afraid they'll run out and hurt themselves or go missing with no way to follow them.

One day, in a brief moment of clarity, Tav looks him in the eyes, remarkably conscious. "Please, darling. I can't live like this anymore. Please let me go."

[oceanmusings]

shipuary day 01 | prisma x shadowheart

Masterlist : link

Summary : Shadowheart changed her look. Prisma is all for it.

Warning : spoilers to beginning of act 3

Prisma’s body was sore. Fighting monks were horrendous and something she didn’t want to be at the end of if she could help it. It made her think about the mercenaries she had crossed before with her old friends before this group, the monk being the hand behind getting information from the mercenaries. Prisma made a mental note to send a letter to her old friend to check in with them, hoping she could survive long enough with this tadpole in her head and fighting a giant damn brain so she could see her old friends.

The elf had a hard time going into her trance, but even when she was up with the sun did the elf not feel any better. Her, Astarion, and Halsin were usually the ones up first before anyone else but neither said anything to each other. Astarion reading a book and Halsin going out for a walk. Prisma decided to do her usual routine to go get some herbs and see what other things she could scavenge for Gale to use in the morning.

When Prisma made her way back is when camp was beginning to wake up more. She gave Gale what she could find - accepting the warm buttered bread he gave her to hold her off until he was done - she walked through camp to see how everyone was doing.

“Hey, Soldier!” Karlach greeted Prisma, “did you see Shadowheart’s new look? She looks like gold!”

“What?” The woof-elf raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Soldier. You should go say hi to your girlfriend then.” Karlach had on a wicked grin on the tieflings face that made Prisma’s stomach uneasy. She really didn’t want to be teased by Karlach from how Shadowheart affects her. She already heard enough from her, Lae, and Astarion.

Prisma turned from the large tiefling to make her way to Shadowheart’s tent - which wasn’t far - and quickly saw what Karlach was talking about.

Shadowheart was sitting on the ground facing a mirror, brushing through her hair to be able to put it up in a ponytail. But her hair wasn’t the usual jet black hair, it was titanium white.

Prisma stood there for a moment to watch Shadowheart place the head piece on her hair, pinning it in place, and beginning to braid it. Slowly Prisma’s legs listened to her command and made the rest of the way over. Shadowheart looked up when she heard her lover make her way over. “Oh, morning.” Shadowheart greeted as she finished the braid, tying it off at the end. “Be honest. What do you think of the new look?”

Shadowheart looked a little nervous, watching Prisma intently for any micro reactions. It was like Prisma’s mind had gone blank as she looked at the half-elf she loves so dearly, nothing but pride blooming in her chest. She was so different from the person when Prisma first met her and couldn’t help but feel so proud of her and honored to see her true self start to bloom.

“You look gorgeous! I love it!” Prisma got down to her level and cupped her cheek softly, brushing her thumb across the apple of her cheeks. “Gods- I didn’t think you could look any better.”

“Stop.” Shadowheart whined. “I’m glad someone likes it. I’m still trying to get used to it. I have a lot to get used to.”

“I get that, but know I’m proud of you.” Softly she pressed a kiss to her cheek, warming her insides as she felt Shadowheart smile at the action. “A lot has happened in the span of like… a tenday? God’s I’ve lost track of time. But nonetheless, I am still proud of you”

“Thank you.” Shadowheart says in a soft tone, taking a moment to look into Prisma’s purple eyes. A look in the wood-elf’s eyes was something foreign Shadowheart hasn’t seen in so long, it was hard to identify. But it caused her whole body to go warm. Maybe having her around would make processing everything more easier.

[kyglow]

starter for @utterxdesires for: jolene muse: leo

" you should really reconsider how you address a person like me. you're not one who has learned how to respect but one day someone's going to teach you some manners. " he would caution her already knowing her mother and specifically her with leo working in a separate group of organised crime as he was the captain of his crew yet he had been told and warned by a few in her crew to show gratitude and respect to jolene yet he wasn't going to allow intimidation and fear to dictate how he should behave even though he was risking conflict amongst his and her crew. the meeting at the moment was private having shown up to see what she wanted yet dreading that it wouldn't be associated with him needing to clean up a mess as the last few visits involved him needing to beat a guy to extract information for her or for revenge purposes and to discard and get rid of dead bodies. " i know you've been tailing me for the last few days. now i was contemplating about blowing the young man's face off but then impulse control came into effect where i decided to act against my anger only because i had a feeling that fair haired skinny young tadpole is dating you. " a theory he proposed but putting forth an explanation as to why he had decided to act violently which was a usual occurrence when something upset or triggered his rage. stress was the primary factor which was that his ex wife had fled months ago to star in the pictures for a major hollywood studio taking even his money and leaving him with very little.

hearing a rumor that his wife had been convinced by a few people in town to leave him while also providing as to where he kept his money hidden which was the cause to the reason why leo had been vengeful in his actions beating and killing anyone who he had a reason to suspect where the cause to his humiliation. of course one of the men he had killed worked for jolene and now to prevent a war from breaking out he would have to come to a compromise as he was still in the process of compensating her by earnings he received through the casinos leo owned. " i don't need to be watched, jolene. i am still working on getting your money but if you aren't gonna play nice by leaving me alone then maybe i'll just decide to hurt something you own. " another threat unable to silence his thoughts openly. a sigh left his lips after scowling at her when he broke off his fierce bitter stare and turned his face away hating the idea jolene held power over him.

[korcariiwitch]

Velwyn bristled as Tae approached, frustration simmering beneath the surface at losing whatever potential upper hand they may have garnered by keeping their cards close to their chests.

After all, it was less than twenty-four hours ago the druid Nettie attempted to permanently cure their illness with a rather nasty dose of wyvern poison. She had failed, utterly, when Velwyn was forced to drive her rapier through the healer’s skull after she tried to swipe at her with the poison coated branch.

Though, it was her sanctimonious prattling that would’ve made Velwyn ill faster than any toxin could have. Still there was some grain of truth to the healer’s blubbering, their death sentences had already been set and with the information out in the open, Velwyn had no choice but to put her faith in Halsin.

The druid took a moment, eyes darting rapidly amongst the group as if examining them for any signs of ceremorphosis, mind working to process at least some of the information Tae provided.

“So you’re after a cure? Certainly explains why you'd brave an entire goblin encampment.”

Halsin took yet another moment as Velwyn could feel the anxiety radiating off her companions at her flank.

“I’ve been studying these parasites for a while now, ever since I discovered these so called ‘True Souls’ are infected with them. And yet, they’ve been altered by a very powerful magic. I am sorry to say, I can’t undo that magic. Which means I can’t cure you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t aid you still. I know where these tadpoles are coming from, and it is where you’ll find your cure." Halsin confessed, seemingly genuine in his remorse.

“And I know I am in no position to ask you any favors, but I am obligated to do so out of duty to my people. I overheard they have set a plan in motion to attack the grove, and so I must ask you to eliminate the goblin leaders before they get a chance-”

“I’ve already killed the drow, whatever-her-name-was, and we most certainly will be slaughtering the rest.” Velywn cut him off, fully expecting praise for a job well done.

“I knew drow reveled in backstabbing their own kind, but I had not anticipated you would have done so so readily.” Halsin offered, equal parts baffled and pleasantly surprised.

That struck a nerve in the warlock, mouth curling into a tight smile and her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, I would so hate to disappoint by being anything other than predictable.”

Whether the druid could sense her displeasure, Velwyn made no effort to hide it and instead cut him off with another question before him or anyone else in their posse could get a word in.

“So will you be joining us or do you intend to just watch?”

Halsin's gaze softened, wordlessly acknowledging his misstep. "Your determination to protect the grove does not go unnoticed, and it would honor me to aid you in the protection of it - please lead the way."

"You spilled the beans to a Hag about our tadpole predicament because Astarion suggested it. No need to play coy now," Tae hollered from behind, startling Halsin.

They'd already engaged in a perilous discussion like this before, nearly resulting in Tae taking Nettie's life. Not out of concern for Velwyn, but because she coerced them into swearing to consume the poison. By the gods, he'd sooner transform into a Mindflayer and unleash chaos across the Coast than face death.

"We possess an ancient Githyanki artifact that offers protection. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. We might meet our demise in the next few minutes, but I'd appreciate deciding our next course before more goblins join the party."

[capricorn-stark]

Othello

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am, kinda short, swearing

a/n: i got strong feelings towards Othello, The Catcher in the Rye, and Jason Todd, but this one’s for @tadpole-san smirk smirk smirk

part 2

You liked studying at Gotham University’s library for the ambience. 

Whether or not you got any actual “studying” done depended wholly on your mood and whatever being that may or may not have been watching you from above, but even if you somehow managed to procrastinate the entire time you were there, at least you could walk back to your dorm with the comforting fact that you had gotten in your cardio for the day. 

The place itself was gorgeous with its overarching ceilings, long hall lined with pillars supporting a seemingly endless array of books, the cozy golden glow of the lights, and the generally pleasant atmosphere provided by the myriads of students sitting around its tables and lounging on its couches. The entire campus was stunning - but it would only be surprising if it wasn’t thanks to the very generous grants from patrons of the Gotham elite, most notably people like Bruce Wayne.

You had a particular spot you liked near the edge of the library, in a little corner mostly surrounded by shelves with enough space for a few usually-unoccupied couches. Aside from you, the only regulars to sit there mainly just consisted of one other guy who recently had started to drop in every few days or so to listen to music and do his own work. You didn’t mind him - he never bothered you, and you both kept up your mutual solidarity towards maintaining a very comfortable silence.

That was, until one particular day.

“Is that Othello?” You glanced over the book in your hand and saw the guy’s startlingly green eyes gazing right at you over his dark-rimmed reading glasses. He wasn’t wearing his earbuds as per usual, so you figured your agonized sigh of boredom must’ve come out a little too loudly. 

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slowly lowering the book a little. “Unfortunately.” He cracked a slight grin at that.

“What, you’re not a fan of Shakespeare?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you started with a fairly nonchalant shrug, “I just think this book in particular is just kinda-”

“Boring as fuck?” he finished very eloquently, causing you to grin back despite yourself. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“I can agree with that,” he said with a nod towards the book. “Definitely not one of my favorites, that’s for sure. Good premise, dynamics were pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really get into it either.” The fact that he was discussing Shakespeare’s works in a way that suggested he had fully read the book (without wholly relying on CliffNotes) and that he did perhaps genuinely enjoy some of them suggested to you that he was probably an English major. “And Iago was a bitch-”

“I know!” you nearly exclaimed, throwing your hands up in very evident frustration. “Iago was shady as hell, and I don’t get how Othello never saw it coming from him. Like, no one can be that oblivious, come on. I wouldn’t have listened to him.” RIP to Othello, but you were different. 

He was actually laughing at that point, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You and me both. You an English major?” You shook your head, holding up your Psychology Twelfth Edition textbook that had been resting on the table beside you.

“Psych.” He raised a brow and you inwardly sighed.

“Jeez - at GU? I’m impressed.” 

Being a psych student at your particular Gotham-based university was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse. The classes were phenomenal and your professors consisted of some of the best and most experienced in the nation - but that also came with the downside that the city you lived in had some of the biggest psychopaths and the largest insane asylum in the nation as well. 

Well, you win some, you lose some.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to say, but the smirk playing at his lips proved that you weren’t convincing anyone. “Let me guess, you’re an English major.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpanned, chuckling regardless as he closed up his own book and extended a hand out. “Name’s Jason Todd. I’ve seen you around a lot, but we never really talked, huh?” You smiled as you reached out to shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.

“I guess not. You usually look like you’re pretty busy.”

“Something like that,” Jason grinned, leaning back against his chair and sliding off his glasses. Without them, the lights somehow gave them an almost glowing effect. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to bother you.”

Bantering over Shakespeare with a cute boy wasn’t exactly your definition of being bothered, so you shook your head.

“Believe me, that was a lot better than Othello was.”

You saw Jason at your spot again the next day, then the day after and the next, lounging across from your couch and always seeming rather out-of-place with his black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but a welcome sight to you nonetheless. And just like that, suddenly, your visits to the library weren’t just for the sake of cardio and the ambience anymore.

He was surprisingly amusing to talk to, whether it was complaining about more books for your respective English courses or just ranting to each other about the struggles of being a student at GU. It was easy to bond over things like getting your midterms interrupted by random threats from the likes of the Riddler, or arguing over whether or not the city’s latest vigilante, some guy named Red Hood, was actually cooler than Batman himself. 

He had been particularly passionate about that last debate.

Aside from being easy-going and annoyingly attractive, you also figured out that he was ridiculously smart, especially when it came to helping you with your English course. Whether it was explaining the deeper societal message behind a particular reading or helping you research topics for your thesis, Jason had a knack towards figuring out exactly the things you yourself seemed to struggle with. 

“How do you figure all of this out?” You asked one day out of sheer disbelief after he connected The Catcher in the Rye to themes of disillusionment about innocence and one’s childhood, and not just towards the protagonist, Holden, being an ass. “Seriously, I thought I was pretty decent with this stuff, but you blow me out of the water.”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, sliding off his reading glasses and setting it on top of the wooden table you were at. You had grown fond of the way they looked on him.

“It’s nothing special,” he dismissed in response, lifting his gaze from the book to fixate it back on you. “You do great by yourself, I just kinda give you a little push with my interpretations.” 

He did that a lot - downplaying the fact that he was actually smart as hell like it really was no big deal. The way your grades had started rising after he started helping you out proved otherwise, though.

“Still, thanks for helping me out,” you insisted, eliciting another slight smile from him. “It means a lot.” 

“Oh yeah?” His tone had gotten cheekier as he leaned closer to you. “How much is a lot?” 

“That’s up for you to decide,” you smirked, moving back and closing up your laptop. “Not me.” 

“You know, if you really wanted to thank me, you should get a coffee with me sometime.” 

“We get coffee together like every week,” you deadpanned and he sighed.

“Not like that. Like a date.” 

It hit you like a truck.

“A date,” you repeated, like you hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“Only if you were into that,” he added, trying to play it cool as he moved to pack his things into his bag. “I’m not working tonight, so I thought you might wanna give it a shot.” That was even more surprising, because he always happened to have a mysterious night shift going on. He never told you what exactly that was, aside from off-handedly mentioning something about motorcycles and Crime Alley every once in a while.

You were still letting it process. 

“...if you don’t want to-”

“No, no - that sounds great,” you interjected, already starting to smile. At the sight of it, he managed another grin himself, an evident hint of relief flashing across his face.

“Right. Yeah. Cool.” He cleared his throat and shot you another grin as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting your broke ass pay for it.”

“Jason!” you protested as he laughed and nudged your shoulder with his, making you join in despite yourself.

At least Othello had managed to lead you to one good thing.

[mybg3notebook]

Does Gale love Mystra?

So far in EA, we have been shown that this is complicated to answer: human love is complex as well as the delirious lore of Forgotten Realms. 

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

The narrative is clear until the party scene which, as I stated many times across these posts, it's a scene that feels a bit inconsistent for me (reasonable since it's EA). But if we follow what the game explicitly shows us, we know that if we send Gale to sleep at the beginning of the Weave scene in which he is watching the incantation with the shape of Mystra, he will say: 

Gale: Long days, yes. And long, lonesome nights.

If Tav knows that the incantation on his palm is Mystra, Gale will explain:

Tav: [insight] You don't have that look on your face when you're looking at “no one” / There's more to it than that. The figure I saw: she means something to you. Gale: [...] I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her – to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. [...]

Dev's notes: Passionate. [...] He was recalling Mystra as a lover, but doesn’t say that out loud. [...] Narrator: The Weave evaporates, and as it does so, you realise the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome.

This allows us to infer that, at this moment, Gale is feeling alone and probably very anxious with the oppressing feeling of the "orb" in his chest. The tadpole only increased the number of problems he has, so he resorts to seeing Mystra melancholically. We notice later in the Weave Scene that not having Mystra around increases this feeling of loneliness. The whole scene seems to give us the idea that he still loves her. There is yearning and loneliness in his current situation.

After a moment of passionate description of magic, Gale invites Tav to experience the Weave. The Weave has a particular effect on Gale: "The moment feels intimate. You realise the Weave is making you one." Considering how Gale was feeling while conjuring the incantation, this moment touched him deeply (the narrator implies that this feeling is mutual).

If Tav expresses their romantic interests, Gale will be surprised:

Gale: I.. I didn’t think.. Narrator: You perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally.. elation Gale: Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome. Dev's notes: Warm, with real affection.

The narrator is giving us meta-knowledge, we can trust in what she says, and we can see that the situation was truly shocking for Gale. These emotional stages described here made me suspect that Gale is a character who has focused for too long on healing his condition, ignoring any chance for romance. His surprise here may confirm that, in my opinion. He feels embarrassment, a feeling that one can interpret as a sign of the surprise of being thrown into a situation he had not seen beforehand (the death protocol and Gale’s conversations show us that he is a character that thinks ahead). It follows trepidation: fear or anxiety about something that he is going to do or experience. Gale is scared of the possibility. Maybe because he is thinking in the danger he is, maybe because he was already burnt by Mystra's attention and having someone else's attention now makes him feel a bit anxious. And then, the final resolution of the process: elation, which is a feeling of great happiness and excitement about something that has happened. Gale is suddenly excited by the possibility. Something he will be thinking about, many times, for the rest of the EA. 

Tav: So what did you think about what I pictured when we were connected by the Weave? Gale: Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, just like I said. Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a kiss/ of a romantic walk. And yet... now more than ever, it's important to recall what makes us human. [if Tav is not human] Well- you know what I mean. A stolen glance- that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come.

So romance was not something he had even considered until the opportunity arose (this is why he won't pursue a Tav who didn't show romantic interest towards him). I think that, since he is a character always living on the edge of death, he will take this opportunity to feel “human again”: after all, he follows the concept of "living life to the fullest".

During the Loss (see the post of the "Loss Scene"), we know that losing Mystra was a big blow for him. He regrets his decisions of the past in this scene, and it reinforced the idea that he is the only one to blame for Mystra's loss. There is a yearning for the lost Chosen powers, but Gale's context in the majority of his scenes seem to reinforce the idea that he sought power not as a means, but as a goal itself to be closer to Mystra and Magic. Since we are talking about a wizard, his passion lies in magic itself, in being one with the Weave/Magic/Mystra. A Chosen of Mystra is so entangled with the Weave and magic that when they die, they are part of the Weave itself. This is the level of passion that Gale has for Magic, and since Magic can only be performed by most mortals via Weave, and the Weave is Mystra, the whole three concepts are, in fact, one; and it makes it very difficult from a lore point of view to separate them. 

Tav: There's something I don't understand. If Mystra abandoned you, how can you still cast magic? Gale: The Weave is still here, all around us – inside of us too. As long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways I am still a more than capable wizard. It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at. To have one hand on the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself.She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list. Consider yourself lucky you're not. 

I personally think Gale will never stop being devoted to Mystra (and won't stop loving her in many ways), because his passion for magic and knowledge is his own life, and Mystra IS those things. He loves magic for the sake of it. So losing this unique contact with magic itself that only Chosen of Mystra have was a terrible punishment for him. His abandonment issues are not just the result of a “guy being left by a girl”. They have an extra complexity because of the nature of Magic in this world and how its deity behaves with her chosen. Gale was not only abandoned by Mystra, but was also removed of a good amount of his capacity to perform magic. If magic “is his life”, the abandonment removed a part of his life away. I think some people miss this point, because, once more, it's related to Forgotten Realm lore and not Dragon Age. Many of these people keep constantly comparing this situation with Dragon Age, which has nothing to do with it. Dragon Age has no wizards, their relationship with Magic is natural, it’s sorcerer-like if we want to compare it, and the relationship with their deities (mostly absent, silent ones) are nothing alike the ones in Forgotten Realm. The context is key, as I repeated several times in these posts and in the one about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation". 

Tav: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. [no romantic weave] I want you to know that you’re a good friend. [romantic weave] I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. /I'm glad to know you think about it too.

Narrator: You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead. Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you Tav: I think perhaps we could be more than friends Gale: Perhaps. 

Tav: You said you think about the moment we shared under the weave. Do you think about it often? Gale: Do you? 1-2-Tav: Yes / From time to time. Gale: So do I. 3- Tav: Not really. Gale: And yet you ask. I do, as a matter of fact.

Gale: You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.

So after sharing this regret during the Loss scene, Gale will show affection if Tav remains friendly during the Weave (but Gale will never directly engage it, he is waiting for Tav to give the first step; understandable if we consider he also has a dangerous bomb in his chest, so he may be torn between wanting to, but knowing he should not to). If there is no interest in pursuing romance, he will show a gesture of gratitude for being a good friend during that night of regrets. 

If pursuing the romance, we can interpret that Gale, at this point, even though he is still struggling with all the emotions that Mystra inspires, wants to experience something more “human”, a romance with a mortal. We know for sure that Gale is getting interested, slowly, while thinking about it, since in each of the following scenes he will ask (or Tav will ask) about that “moment in the Weave”. He has been thinking about it for many nights, and he is “embracing” the idea. 

If Gale is treated with judgement (despite not knowing his whole story) or allowing him to keep the secret of what or who he lost, we will obtain lines likes:

Gale: Good. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. // And try not to think too poorly of me. A cat can look at a king. A wizard can look at a goddess.

Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

We could interpret these lines as the only ones so far that may suggest that Gale is still wanting something from the goddess. We know due to the tadpole dreams that Gale’s desire is Mystra. On the comments of the second tadpole dream we know more details about his major desire: it is not just Mystra, but her forgiveness.

Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: She's... It doesn't matter. I just know her to be unreal. Tav: What's impossible about what you're been shown? Gale: Forgiveness Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence. Mystra has not changed her mind about me. That's how I know our dreams are delusions.

I think this scene shows the difference between a standard desire for power as a means, and power for the sake of power itself (since this power allows Gale to be one with the Weave). The scene is ambiguous enough to see it as Gale wanting to return to Mystra’s side as well as remaining as an ardent devotee of her (because she is magic herself). I keep repeating that these scenes show that Gale’s most important thing in his life is Magic, which is Mystra: the extension and the embodiment of magic. So his desire for her seems impossible to be extinguished completely. In previous scenes we saw that he certainly had thought through the idea of loving her more like a devotee than a lover, but certainly the weight of being his first love will remain, especially since she is deeply related to magic itself.

During the Party Scene we find some information about his feelings for Mystra. 

I personally ponder the book of Amn’s description as very important because, from a narrative point of view, it's a lot of lines/content that, if they were not important, tend to be removed from the script. If they are there, they are meant to be interpreted. For this reason those lines mean to me that Gale has finally embraced the idea of having something important with a mortal. In my post of the "Party Scene" I go into details, but here I will stick to the interpretation related to Mystra: all what Gale numerates in that book are things that he could not access to with a Goddess. Curiously, part of those descriptions are things that make humans human, so I personally think it reinforces Gale's intention in heading into this romance with the eagerness of finding some shelter (never forget the “orb” has a constant oppressing effect in him, increasing his anxiety and fears) and to experience (maybe for the first time) the love of a mortal.

So, for some assumptions made in the post of the "Party Scene", we suspect that Gale needs to share a night to feel confident enough to speak the details of his “orb” condition. Since he wants this relationship to be strong (after all, he implied commitment during the description of the book) he speaks about the true origin of the “orb” immediately after that night, starting with Mystra (which is, after all, the true origin of his folly). Depending on the version that Tav picks, we have extra information provided by Gale about his emotions for the Goddess:

Tav: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. [...] One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. [...] and the wizard was left behind heartbroken. Tav: I hate to say it, but he really could have seen this coming Gale: He was blinded by love. Good stories are rife with lovers’ follies after all.

[Short Version] Gale: Before long Mystra tired of me. What was I after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? You have to realise I was heartbroken. I was a young man, she was my first love. I thought it would last forever. I vowed to win her back.

[after explaining the mistake of the “orb”] Gale: It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through.. After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side

Gale is giving a very detailed context about his love for Mystra: she was his first love, and the first love tends to have a special weight in a person's life and their memories. That doesn't mean the person has become unable to build more relationships for the rest of their life. If we add the fact that he was very young when all this happened (more details in the Post "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1") we find him under two effects: the impression of the first love and the naivety of the youth. Both elements made him believe it was a love that was going to last forever. With a Goddess, no less.

Besides, Gale expresses this, highlighting his naivety and foolishness: he is aware of how silly he was back then, and how impossible it could be for a mortal to keep the love of a goddess. He is a pragmatic and realistic character, after all. He recognizes in the end that he was just a mortal plaything for her. 

I think these pieces of information give us a very clear context of his emotional state: he is still nostalgic for Mystra because of all the reasons I enumerated above; she is also more than just a woman, she is Magic itself. But he is aware that those emotions were the consequence of a very naïve and young self that has awakened by the burden of his own mistakes. There is also a reinforcement of “forever”, which recalls the concept of commitment that Gale pursues so much in his romance: he is not there just for the sex “intimacy”, he is there for serious commitment, maybe because he doesn't want to experience another abandonment. After all, we are talking about a character with a profile that shows abandonment issues (see the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Abandonment Issues")

[If rejected] Tav: No. This is too large a betrayal. GALE: I see. I am sorry. I am sorry that it had to come to this. All that’s left to say is farewell. Dev’s notes: hurt but understanding Gale: Farewell. (Leaves) Dev’s notes: A slight hesitation, hurt but understanding. He makes a polite little bow, then we see him walk away.

[If accepted] Gale: I don’t know what I did to deserve the magic that you do. 

Despite being terribly cheesy, this last line shows that Gale was more than convinced that Tav would abandon him because he doesn’t deserve Tav. This is why he doesn't put up much fight if Tav chooses to tell him to leave. He will try to make Tav listen to his story, and once it's done, the verdict will fall and he will accept it. He learnt his lesson with Mystra. This line also shows how everything important around Gale is or has to be worded with magic, even a silly metaphor like this is related with the word “magic”: Tav's acceptance is like magic. For him, as important and good as magic itself.

As if that were not enough, after the scene there is a comment in which Gale will reinforce his gratitude for Tav's acceptance:

Tav: If you ever feel the netherese magic overtaking you, what will you do? Gale: If it should ever come to that... if I ever know I am no longer able to stop it... I will do anything I can to ensure no one but me pays for my mistakes. I will find the remotest place on the surface of Faerûn, or perhaps far below in the depths of the Underdark. I will await that death alone. [*] I promise I will not betray your trust... You kept me by your side despite the menace that I am. If worst comes to worst, I will be gone long before the curtain falls.  [*] If romanced, Gale will say here "I cherish you."

Which makes me suspect that Gale can disappear at any moment (in full game) if for some game mechanics we are unable to get magical artefacts but the deal with Raphael did not happen (if that’s even possible). But that's just me speculating. Nothing in EA seems to suggest this. What i's clear is that acceptance—that strong concept in the book he put so much emphasis on—is really important to him, so he shows gratitude for that: he promises to protect Tav (and many innocents) from his own mistake. He also says pretty soon an equivalent of “I love you”, in a more formal/meaningful way: “to cherish” is not just to love, but to care/protect as well. 

Finally, in case someone lost those hints, or maybe as a consequence of this unpolished scene, we have a direct question with a direct answer:

Tav: Gale, are you still in love with Mystra? Gale: I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know. She is my muse still, the embodiment of magic, but the embodiment of love? Only if we ever meet again will I know

Gale simply says what we have been inferring so far with all the previous information: Gale reinforces the idea that he will remain as a strong, loving devotee of Mystra, because she is magic. I personally don't even consider it possible to remove that love from him. He may not be a cleric, but he loves his deity as one. But he also learnt his lesson that loving gods has its own dire consequences for mortals. He is very aware of it during the discussion about Karsus:

Tav: Nothing good ever comes from mortals wanting to be gods. 

Gale: Loving them has its side effects as well. Now, so many centuries later, I tried to follow in the footsteps of Karsus, not to destroy Mystra, but to prove my love for her. It tried to control only a fraction of the magic that was unleashed that fateful day. I merely sought to return one tiny diamond to an imperfect crown. Gale's Folly one might call it. History. Repetition. It's the way things go.

Once more, there is no scene where Gale doesn't reinforce that what he did was a mistake, a foolish action, a Folly. 

Finally, if talking about a previous lover immediately after awakening with a new one was of poor taste, Gale acknowledges this, giving an honest apology:

Gale: Before we go on though, do first let me apologise. To share such a night with you only to tell you of a previous lover the next morning... It wasn't the most gentleman-like behaviour. But I had to finally tell you. Silence would have been far worse behaviour still. Nevertheless, I am sorry.

He accepts any rude response or lash-out from Tav without approval penalties. This is an interesting meta-knowledge that speaks about owning up to his mistakes. Unlike the Loss scene, where rude responses made Gale disapprove because Tav was judging him without knowing the whole story [16], in this scene he doesn’t. Now Tav has the whole picture, and he accepts whatever reaction Tav shows. Of course he will approve a forgiving Tav, since Gale is a character very related to forgiveness [12, 12b].

Conclusion: 

So, answering the question that gives title to this section: yes. In my opinion, Gale loves Mystra. But it’s not a white-and-black love; it has the complexity of human love mixed with this crazy lore of deities in Forgotten Realms. I believe Mystra will always be part of Gale's life, because the Weave and magic are his life, and she is both. He will always love her as a devotee, even though he now understands the mistakes of his young self and seems more aware of how naive he was when he was a “very young man”. The comments on the second tadpole dreams explicitly show that what Gale wants the most is Mystra’s forgiveness, but at the same time, he knows that he does not deserve it. And this raw realistic view of himself is what makes him understand that those dreams are illusions. During the party scene he is uncertain about his emotions, but still he emphasises that there is a big chance for him to not see Mystra as the embodiment of love any more but reinforces that she will always be the embodiment of magic to him (a very important concept in his character design). 

Whether Gale is romanced or not, I don't see a difference in the information he shares on this matter in EA.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[bludmystic]

Elyndra’s gaze lingers on Iago, observing the way they speak, the way they manage their expressions with a precision she can almost admire. Their words are carefully chosen, crafted with an artful subtlety that makes her suspicion simmer beneath the surface of her calm demeanor. They offer to help, to research, and though the gesture is wrapped in politeness, Elyndra can see it for what it is: a delay. A diversion. But it would do her no good to pry too forcefully. Not when there is a far more delicate way to pull at the threads of whatever web Iago has woven. For some reason this all feels so . . . tense. And Elyndra can only assume whatever history they might share is filled with painful trauma, given the gruesome nature of what she can remember. Still——Iago doesn’t have a tadpole. Why would they willingly be sticking around for an “acquaintance” if something so truly terrible happened between them?

❛ I appreciate that, truly. I also appreciate being able to speak of this so freely.❜

With a soft sigh, she glances down at her gray hands, tracing the faint, lifeless lines of her knuckles with her thumb. ❛ I have been observing certain . . . peculiarities about myself, ❜ she begins, her voice carrying a lightness that betrays none of the weight of her words. ❛ As we’ve established, I am dead. Or rather, undead, though I cannot say how or why. It is not a condition I recall choosing, and yet here I am. Preserved in this state, neither decaying nor truly living. ❜ She pauses, the firelight flickering across her ashen skin, creating the illusion of warmth where none exists.

❛ There is a hunger as well, ❜ she continues, her tone shifting ever so slightly, a touch of something darker creeping into her voice. ❛ It claws at me, growing more persistent with each passing day. I crave . . . flesh. Living flesh. ❜ The admission sits between them like a stone dropped into still water, rippling through the quiet. Elyndra watches closely, waiting to see if the weight of her words causes even the slightest crack in Iago’s carefully constructed mask.

She shifts, crossing one leg over the other. ❛ And then, there is my mind, ❜ she continues, her fingers brushing absently against her temple. ❛ It feels so vast, as though entire realms exist behind my eyes. I am flooded with information—endless streams of it—yet I have no personal memories to anchor myself to. No sense of who I truly am, save for flashes of blood and violence. ❜ Her lips press together in a thin line, but even now, her calm remains unshaken. The chaos inside her mind somehow doesn’t feel new; it is simply the reality she has come to accept, no matter how unsettling.

❛ I have noticed other things as well. I can move objects without touching them, manipulating the world around me with mere thought. My strength, my dexterity—those are pitifully lacking, but my mind? It is solid. As solid as stone, yet fluid as water. ❜ Her gaze flickers down to her hand, palm up, as though she is expecting something to materialize there, some proof of the power she describes. ❛ It’s as though my mind alone holds the weight of my existence together. I think I may be some sort of mystic, though that hardly explains this wretched hunger, or my undead state. ❜

She lets the silence settle for a moment, allowing Iago the space to react, to process. But her mind continues its calculations, its theories. There is so much that does not add up. And yet… Elyndra knows. She knows Iago holds the answers she seeks, locked away behind those nervous, violet eyes. [ PRY THE TRUTH FROM THEIR MIND WITH THE CLAWS OF YOUR OWN! ] ❛ It’s strange, ❜ she adds softly, her gaze turning toward the fire, ❛ I feel as though I once had a purpose. A plan. There is a certainty buried somewhere deep inside of me, but it’s out of reach . . . ❜

closed starter | @accultant

The fire crackles nearby, casting long shadows that dance across the lich’s ashen skin. She feels none of the warmth from the flames, but watches the way it flickers in Iago’s eyes——violet, shifting, full of something they’re trying too hard to hide. Her gaze lingers on them for a moment longer before she takes her place beside them, careful to leave enough space that they don’t feel crowded, but close enough to speak without being overheard. There’s an odd serenity to the night, but it does little to ease the gnawing curiosity in her mind.

❛ I wanted to speak with you, Iago . . . if I may? ❜ She’s been watching them, of course. A week now in their company, and yet something about their very presence continues to prod at her subconscious, tugging at the threads of memories she cannot seem to grasp. They hadn’t said they knew her, not once, but she knows. The fear that flickered in their eyes when they first locked onto her wasn’t imagined. It’s a puzzle, one she cannot ignore.

She keeps her composure as she speaks, even though the hunger clawing at the depths of her stomach is a constant reminder of her body’s state. That cold, creeping sensation beneath her skin, the way her flesh doesn’t warm or pulse, the absence of breath unless she forces it——there’s no denying the truth of it, not anymore. ❛ I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I seem to be . . . well, quite literally dead. Right? ❜ Her tone remains calm, clinical, as though discussing something mundane, but her gaze sharpens, watching for the subtlest shift in Iago’s expression.

Elyndra pauses, glancing down at herself as if to emphasize her words. The lifeless pallor of her hands rests on her lap, unmoving. ❛ It’s the only thing that makes logical sense, ❜ she continues, her voice softening into a whisper, one meant only for Iago’s ears. ❛ and I’ve been thinking about it for days now… it’s the only thing that makes the—❜ She hesitates, searching for the right word, though there’s a quiet weight to the truth. ❛——the urges——make sense. ❜ Her lips press together in a thin line, her gaze steady, though beneath it all, the hunger swells, aching to be sated. It often times, like right now, will say terrible things like:

DEVOUR THEM. RIP THEM ALL APART. KILLKILLKILLKILLKILL—

She tilts her head slightly, studying Iago with that same unrelenting curiosity. ❛ You just seem like a smart person, ❜ she murmurs, the hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. ❛ and I think I might be a smart person too. Really smart. ❜ Her voice is matter-of-fact, lacking any arrogance, merely a statement of observation. ❛ Maybe you can help me make sense of things. ❜ The words hang between them, a careful invitation, cloaked in the pretense of inquiry, but Elyndra knows there’s more at stake here than just her forgotten past. Iago is a part of that past. She’s certain of it.

Her gaze never wavers as she waits for their response, though her mind is already working, calculating. She has no memory of who she was, but her instincts have not left her. She knows how to read people, how to see beyond the surface of their words, and Iago——poor, skittish Iago——is no exception.

[jaminjims]

「BRAIN GO BRR」

anon request: Heyyy! Could I request for an imagine for prompt 83? An ot7 platonic bts 8th reader crack / fluff? Like they’re playing around and it gets a wee bit competitive? 😅

prompt: “if you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

pairing: platonic!bts ot7 x gender neutral!reader

genre: crack >:), fluff

warnings: strong language?? should that be a warning?

words: 1.3k

~**~

You looked seriously into Taehyung’s eyes, determined that you would get it right no matter what he did. The stakes were high as your team was only one point away from winning.

Tae meowed.

“Monkey!”

There was a brief pause before several different things happened at once.

“Monkey?! I meow and the first animal you think of is monkey, oh my god. Can I hit you?” Taehyung looked at Jin for permission, “Can I hit Y/n?”

“Yah! I can’t help it if you sound like a monkey all the time; you never evolved past caveman! That’s natural selection Tae! Aish, why couldn’t you just evolve past caveman brain.” You whined and messed with your hair in frustration. Jimin and Jungkook looked on in despair as now the Hyung team was a point closer to winning the game and now the two teams were tied. Hoseok and Jin did all they could not to pass out from laughter while Yoongi just nodded to your exclamation like it was universal knowledge that most people, indeed, did not evolve past caveman brain. Namjoon looked like he would like to end his suffering and was contemplating if it was too late to resign as leader. He should let Yeontan take up the mantle. Or maybe get a lizard. Lizards are patient and wise, right?

Ah yes, the elegance that was animal association; where you make an animal noise and if your partner gets it right then the team gets a point. If your partner gets it wrong, then the other team gets the point. Simple really.

Well, unless it came to you, apparently. There was really a 50/50 chance with you.

It was your birthday and you were all gathered in the dorm living room, having a mini party to celebrate while v-living the event. It seemed like the mass lack of IQ you had spread and lowered the general intelligence of everyone in your vicinity though, as Taehyung exclaimed;

“You never evolved past tadpole brain!” He pointed back at you and you had half a mind to bite his finger.

Before you could act on your biting instincts, Jimin laid a hand on your shoulder with a grim expression on his face. “Even I knew it was a cat, Y/n-ah.”

There was obviously something missing in their brain functions because no, that was definitely a monkey. You lunged for the phone to consult ARMY in the decision but Namjoon had enough sense to pull it away from you before you did something rash. Coincidently, you tripped trying to get up to get it back from the leader, and he just looked down at you with something akin to utter misery for this game in his eyes. Or maybe it was war flashbacks. Probably war flashbacks.

Hoseok couldn’t help it; he was basically wheezing he was laughing so hard and Jin went to help you up, though, he was laughing too and almost fell on you in the process. Yoongi was trying his best not to laugh but he kinda looked like the embodiment of the 👁👄👁 face to you.

“Hey! We can still win this, team! They can still get the next one wrong!” Jungkook exclaimed with determination in his eyes. Jimin nodded along with him as you four sat off to the side and the four eldest got together. It was Jin and Yoongi’s turn and Jin thought of an animal that they haven’t done yet.

He hissed.

There was a tense few seconds before Yoongi, quite confidently, replied with “Hedgehog.”

Jin’s eyes widened as he smiled, that caused Hoseok to whoop in victory because if Jin was acting like that then Yoongi had obviously gotten it right. “Aish, you’re so smart.” Jin complimented. Yoongi smiled and looked at the younger ones with smug victory in his eyes. Namjoon sighed like the long suffering parent he was.

It only goes downhill from here.

Your poor brain struggled to make sense of it. “Hedgehog?! What the fuck?! Do hedgehog’s even hiss!?”

This time Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi started laughing and celebrating their victory while your other three team members looked at you.

You met Jungkook’s cold stare first, “I am going to defenestrate you.” Then they all lunged at you. You yelled and bolted up, grabbing one of those sticky, stretching rubber hand things you can throw at walls to get them to stick there. (if you know, you know) You had insisted you have them as party favors.

You ran around the couch so there was something between you and the other three maknaes. “But we live on the fourth floor!”

“Exactly!” Jimin added, “Maybe if you hit your head hard enough you can gain some brain function back!” Tae continued.

They ran around one way as you ran around the other. You used your sticky hand to hit them in the face when you could while the Hyung line stood a respectful distance away from the chaos and got it on camera.

“Pause!” You yelled and you all froze. You pointed at them while they pointed back at you. Hoseok started laughing again because it reminded him of the one cartoon spider-man meme.

You smirked at them, “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers!” Then you bolted away and the poor hyungs didn’t realize you were running to them before it was too late. You hid behind Namjoon as Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae came at you.

You growled and barked at them like the rapid animal you were and it spoked Namjoon enough to almost drop the phone (that was still running the v-live, by the way).

“Did you just bark?” Yoongi said in disbelief while Hobi and Jin also had a look of confusion mixed with concern mixed with slight horror directed at you. Namjoon quickly moved out of the way so he didn’t contract whatever brain cell eating illness you had. You moved to get behind him again before the other young ones could get to you.

He would would have poked you back with a stick if he had one, “Back! Stay back I say!”

You paled when you realized that you had no cover and bolted down the hallway, Jimin hot on your feet and the other two not to far behind.

The hyung’s followed to wherever you were going to make sure everyone made it out somewhat still intact.

You ran into your room and only paused momentarily when you saw that, huh, when did you open the window?, before regaining your senses and dodgeing the three others as they came barreling into the room.

So, the scene looked like this. You on one side, closest to your closet and desk, while Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were across from you, backs facing the weirdly opened window. The four oldest were watching on with non concealed laughter and amusement (well three of them were, Namjoon looked a little bit like he wanted a nap.)

With nothing between you and your attackers, you did the last thing you could do; which was throw the sticky green hand at them.

You missed and you all watched as it went falling out the window.

There was a few seconds of nothing before you all jumped at the sound of Hoseok’s phone. He looked at it and then back at the other members.

“It’s Sejin Hyung.” He answered the call and put it on speaker.

“Hoseok-ah, would you like to explain the sticky, green, ... hand thing that just flew out your dorm window and into Y/n’s cake?” That was Bang PD’s voice. Which only meant one thing; their boss was with their manager and they had just witnessed you throwing something out the window and landing in your cake.

Wait, it landed in your cake?!

“Wah! It landed in my cake?!” You whined in misery as Hoseok couldn’t help the incredulous giggle that escaped him. It was quiet on both sides before you heard your manager laugh from the other line.

After that it was a domino effect and you all started laughing, even Bang PD himself. While laughing you still couldn’t help the little whines that escaped you.

“But what about my cake??”

[end]

~**~

end note: PLEASE, i live for crack fics you guys. along with writing angst (which i seem to write the most, for whatever reason) crack is one of my favorite things to write. i feel like i get to really just let my already deteriorating mental stability go and write whatever comes to mind with prompts like these so i had sooo much fun! thank you so so so much for the request anonie! i loved it so much and i hope you like it as much as i did 💜

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