#what did mystra turn that weave into

[siginari]

Completely innocent discussion about Tara got out of hands:

[madwomansapologist]

Please share your headcanon about gale's kinks!!!!

gale's kinks/turn ons

Navigation | More Wizard of Waterdeep | AO3

synopsis: A deep dive into what the smart wizard man think it's hot. Yes, the brain rot is that serious.

warnings: i'm sick so if this isn't good i will blame the pills. testing a new format. this is about sex, don't interact if you're a minor. remember: if you kink shame me i will get horny just to spite you.

PRAISE KINK

That's a man willing to write poetry about your body, mind and soul. His tongue has only two purposes on life, and both of them involve making you see stars. If his mouth isn't in use, he will be praising you.

And when Gale feels so good he can't even speak, isn't that a praise on itself?

But that we all know. His reaction to receiving praise is what makes me want to bite my fingers off.

Gale Dekarios knows his value as a wizard, but not as a man. His ambition isn't a consequence of his desire to pursue more, but to be more. To deserve love, he must prove his worth. As we all know, it often doesn't end in a good way.

I don't think Mystra ever wasted her precious time to assure Gale of the contrary. And when she did, it wasn't about Gale Dekarious: it was about Gale of Waterdeep, her chosen. How his control of the weave was impressive, how he could conjure any sort of images, how his illusions could fool everyone.

So when he receives praise for any other part of his life that isn't his academic pursues, a part of his brain burns. Be as intricate as his poetry or as lascive as one can be, Gale can feel his knees getting weak. Weaker.

FOOD PLAY

Not only Gale loves to cook and bake, but he loves the whole idea of being responsible for making someone stronger and healthier. Hunger is a hurtful thing, that he knows, and he don't want anyone else to deal with it.

It comes hand to hand with his praise kink. When you eat something good, you don't need to use words: your whole body shows it. He would apreciate the compliments, nonetheless.

To spoon feed you would be such a turn on. It's so intimate, such a show of trust and care, nothing but human. The way your mouth opened for the spoon, how your tongue licked it clean. Can you blame him?

After helping you eat, it would be his turn to end his hunger. You don't mind being his plate, do you? Gale promises to lick you clean. You always taste so sweet for him, what's a bit of honey to add to that?

OLFACTOPHILIA

Your scent can turn him into a fucking mess. There is something so human about it. So natural and real about it. Is just you.

After a fight, when you are covered in sweat and blood, he can't help himself. To be around you can make him drool. You fresh from your shower, smelling just as you and not as any perfume. When you spend the day laying around and is too lazy to get clean.

The amount of times his cheeks burned red because he breathed in when you walked past and a companion noticed can't be numbered.

Gale prefers to undress you rather you doing it yourself. That means he will be able to breath deep against your undies before getting them off of you.

Wanna get him as hard as a rock in mere seconds? Give him a underwear you used for a long time. Just threw it at his face and go on with your day. He will be quick to follow.

Gale loves how he can still smell you on his upper lip after going down on you. If you squirt, he will cum on his trousers. I don't make the rules.

FACE-SITTING/FACE FUCKING

Again: his mouth has only two uses. Is almost therapeutic for him. Just get on top of him, use his mouth however you want. The place in between your legs seen perfect for him to die on.

Gale Dekarios is a service top looking for a pillow princess/prince. I VOLUNTEER!

FINGERS IN MOUTH

You know that feeling of not knowing what to do next? Where to put your hands, what to do with your mouth? Since he prefers to be the one doing things, this can be a problem. A problem that can be easily solved by your pretty fingers.

It can hit even harder if he's in the process of casting something and you stop him by just putting your fingers into his mouth. Gale won't even know hot to react. Actually, he might suck them.

Ok, he might have a oral obsession. What are you, Freud?

BONDAGE

Hand to hand with that sort of anxiety about what he must do next. Make sure Gale stays put in place and use him. Remember guys, your service tops also deserve to be fucked around a bit.

Magic restrains or ropes, and make sure to do some beautiful knots. He could break free from them, but Gale won't desobey. Not after you spend so long getting him ready for you.

shadowheart turn ons/kinks

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

[dekariosclan]

“I love you,” Gale says. It’s the first time he’s ever said those words to anyone.

But the object of his love looks back at him with a faint hint of distaste at the confession, and he feels his heart suddenly sink into his chest.

“I…don’t feel the same, Gale,” they say. “I’m sorry. I find your magic very impressive, it’s true, but you…” they raise one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “You’re not enough for me.”

———

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, my Goddess, forgive me,” Gale begs, desperate to undo the mistake he’s made.

But Mystra only looks at him coldly and stops his pleading with a wave of her hand.

“You were an adept composer of the Weave, Gale of Waterdeep. And for that you earned my interest and a place in my bed for many years. But that all ends now,” she says, sounding almost bored as she watches her lover keeling over in pain. Though whether it’s from the orb burning in his chest or his breaking heart, she cannot tell.

“I did it because I love you,” he gasps, his voice hoarse. “You know I love you…”

“You’ve made the gravest of errors. And now, to atone for it, you offer me your love?” She looks almost amused as she turns away from him. “That is not enough for me.”

———

Floating in a sea of stars, the Outer Planes as their backdrop, Gale kisses Tav with an intensity that borders on desperation. Part of him can’t help but brace for the worst: for Tav to pull away suddenly, or demand to be taken home…but neither happens. Instead, Tav’s hands, clasped in both of his, pull him in closer. Wanting him, needing him. Loving him.

When they finally break apart to come up for air, Tav is gazing at him with such devotion it nearly takes his breath away.

He knows there are no words that can convey the depth of what he feels for Tav. That no language currently in existence could do it justice.

But still, he intends to try.

So he chooses his words carefully and he hopes—oh, he hopes!—that Tav will understand the weight behind them…

“You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting. With these stars as my witness, I swear - you will always be enough for me.”

[kirain]

Finally doing a Gale-mance this playthrough (I've done Shadowheart and Karlach and had to gently turn Gale down both times) and while I initially mildly turned off by his grand gestures and flowery prose, it's rapidly growing on me because he's just so... earnest? Like yeah, he's theatrical but its all genuine. (And after reading your meta I've become suspicious that Big Grand Gestures are all he knows because what's a small, sentimental gesture to a goddess? I didn't go with the Astral Sex scene because I wouldn't have been able to handle it but now I'm glad I did for narrative reasons too.)

I'm happy for you! Many of my friends have also fallen down the X companion to Gale pipeline, but they didn't regret it. 😆

I also didn't choose the astral sex scene, but as an asexual, it doesn't bother me. I know a lot of people are 50/50 on it, but I think it's just another beautiful expression of love. The good news is I don't think it impacts Gale's decisions. You can try it and still tell him you prefer him as a man, and he'll be grateful.

Gale is theatrical, but you're right—it's what became expected of him. He was in a constant state of trying to impress a goddess. It's honestly heartbreaking, because I have a feeling he wouldn't have explored such grand gestures if not for Mystra, who according to both the game and D&D lore loves unconventional sex involving the Weave. I can't even imagine being under that kind of pressure.

Personally, I also found Gale's sex scenes to be painfully telling, because he doesn't make it about what he wants. Like you said, he's earnest. It might be his last night alive, but he focuses solely on your pleasure. He does all the work, he offers different methods, and he conjures a bed for your comfort. While he certainly is seeking support and doesn't want to be alone, he wants to spend what little time he has left making the one he loves happy.

He's also one of the few companions who will fully embrace your ilithid form, admire you for your sacrifice, and actively search for a cure and magical means to feed/protect you. He sets boundaries (like not allowing you to cheat on him), but you becoming a squid isn't one of them.

That's why I think Gale is one of the most loyal and devoted companions in the entire game, second perhaps only to Minthara, if you play as the Dark Urge. They're both very ride or die, but Gale is a soft, wholesome romantic who proves his love in everything he says and does.

Plus he cooks and has a cat. You can't go wrong. 😉

[abracadav-r]

"Okay, makes sense, but also what the fuck is going on with Vhaeraun's lore anyway😭

It still baffles me that it looks almost like they don't know what they want or what they're doing with him. At least that's the impression the current canon gave me the last time my mutual shared random bits of lore with me"

@mmigrainee

I think this is likely to go longer than a reply comment allows, so I'll put it here. Won't be citing as much as usual since I'm on mobile and the app likes throwing tantrums when I go in and out of it but here's the Cliff Notes version:

2e Vhaeraun has an entirely different depiction. His entries in Demihuman Deities and other 2e books by parties like Ed Greenwood depict him as a power that—while lesser to Lolth—is successfully able to convert followers from Lolth and skirt around the margins of Menzoberranzan as a noticeable threat to the Church of Lolth.

Then we get Cunningham's novels, where the Vhaeraunites and their centers of power are depicted in very shallow ways thoughtless to his existing lore (his followers have sex slaves and prowl after women) this also starts the "Evermeet's take on this is now taken is as good as the official timeline rather than a bardic version intended to please the court of an elf nation with its own problematic history".

These depictions continue into 3e onward, leaving most depictions of Vhaeraun and his followers as slavers, sex pests, genociders et al and most notes of egalitarianism are removed from him and either disappear entirely or are reassigned to other parties, especially in the era where we have storylines focusing on the "redemption of drow".

4e comes around and Hasbro wants to streamline and thinks too many gods are annoying and they want everything Lolth all the way down. Lady Penitent comes out and kills everyone but Lolth in stupid ways and 4e pushes that all drow convert or die. Every underdark city that isn't Menzoberranzan might as well no longer exist, assuming they didn't outright eradicate it with whatever reason they spun up to have unopposed rule.

In between, Ed and others are consulting. Their work is cut by editors but more recently they've said there was plans to have the twins return as archfey in a campaign after their deaths, returning to their origins.

That lore never gets published, so we move into 5e with them still dead or just reappearing like a lot of gods did with no justification. Hasbro doesn't want to do the worldbuilding work they did in 2e-3e so they just leave everything with a big hole turn in it. You guys only care about the Sword Coast, right?

Ed eventually gets asked on Candlekeep about it and spins up a narrative that Mystra interfered in Vhaeraun's attempted assassination in Lady and behind the scenes, grabs the twins and pulls them into the weave in torpor essentially. They weren't dead, pretending at it, which is why the Skulkers of Vhaeraun received spells. This may be tied to the Demon Weave content in 4e's Council of Spiders, perhaps Mystra wanted Lolth to feel confident and overextend, which helped knock her down from a Greater Power to a Lesser Power in 5e.

Ed continues on this, saying the twins have reached an "understanding" and now won't be directly opposing each other, though members of each church may.

tldr: Hasbro doesn't really give a shit about a consistent narrative, they just want to republish books every 5-10 years with the same three paragraphs and it really shows in 5e when the original creator has to come out and say "yeah I hear you guys and had plans that I now can't really talk about due to NDA but here's something new to try and fix the gaping hole."

[pixel7777]

Threefold Returns - Ch. 1/16

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

Work Summary: Magic has rules. Magic has a mistress. And Gale Dekarios knows something he was never meant to remember.

A year ago Gale made Zelara choose between himself and Astarion; she chose Astarion. A few weeks ago, Gale stopped answering their messages. Zel and Astarion show up in Waterdeep and find Gale being mind-fucked by his former goddess.

What begins as an attempt to untangle the lingering threads of Mystra’s influence over Gale turns into something much bigger—and far more dangerous. The truth lurking beneath the Weave is a secret worth killing for, and Mystra will stop at nothing to keep it buried. But Gale, Astarion, and Zelara have never been good at playing by the rules.

And Astarion and Zelara have never stopped loving Gale.

Canon compliance: I'm playing fast and loose with Mystra and Weave lore here, outright changing it for a main plot point, and I'm not sorry about it. My lore is that Mystra is a horrible person in BG3, and I want her punished. Uh, and some magic stuff definitely goes beyond 5e rules and drifts adjacent to some magical realism. If you're here for some feels and smut and seeing Mystra get destroyed, you're in the right place. If you're here for lore, you're probably not lol.

Work Content Tags: Post-Canon, Polyamory, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, POV Multiple, Threesome - F/M/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Humor, Karma Comes for Mystra, Fuck Mystra, Bloodweave+Tav, PIV sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex ~64K words.

Work is complete on AO3! Chapters will be posted daily on Tumblr until it's all here too.

Astarion

Moonlight-colored fungi cast a soft glow across Zel's lavender skin as she sprawled beside Astarion, her silver hair spilling across the pillow like liquid metal. He traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, savoring the warmth of her body against his cool flesh. The lingering pleasure of their coupling hummed through his nerves, making everything feel soft and hazy.

"What if something's happened to him?" Zel's voice broke the comfortable silence. "It's not like Gale to ignore messages for this long."

Astarion pressed a kiss to her temple. "Or perhaps he's simply caught up in some fascinating magical theory and lost track of time. You know how he gets."

"But three weeks?" She shifted to face him, her luminous eyes catching the ethereal light. "That's a long time, even for Gale."

He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, noting the tension in her jaw. Always trying to fix things, his Zel. Even when there might be nothing to fix.

"Darling, he's not exactly helpless. He did manage to get rid of that pesky orb without blowing himself up." Astarion kept his tone light, though worry gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "And last we heard, he was settling back into his tower, probably boring everyone in Waterdeep with lectures about magical theory."

"I suppose." Zel nestled closer, pressing her face against his neck. Her breath tickled his skin. "But what if—"

"Tell me three times you are sure there's actually something wrong." He caught her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Not just your brilliant mind spinning hypotheticals."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I hate when you use our thing against me."

"I know." He smirked, drinking in the sight of her—flushed skin, kiss-bruised lips, the mark of his fangs still visible on her throat. Even worried, she was breathtaking. "That's why I do it."

Astarion watched the familiar glint of mischief spark in Zel's eyes. That look always meant trouble.

"We could go check on him," she said, trailing her fingers down his chest. "I've been working on that sunlight resistance potion. The latest batch shows real promise."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Astarion studied Zel's expression, recognizing the determined set of her jaw. Usually, he redirected her experimental urges toward more expendable test subjects. Her genius was undeniable, but her methods tended toward the explosive. He had watched her blow up her laboratory three times in the past month alone.

But this was different. The sunlight resistance potion was personal—something she had been working on just for him. He refused to let her test it on the freed spawn. Those poor bastards had suffered enough, and he wouldn't add to their torment just to spare himself discomfort.

"How promising?" He kept his tone casual, though his pulse would have quickened if he still had one. "The last batch only gave me a rather spectacular rash."

"I adjusted the ratio of my dhampir blood to moonflower essence." Zel's eyes lit up with that dangerous sparkle that meant she was about to launch into technical details. "And the crystallization process—"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Darling, I love you, but spare me the particulars. Just tell me if you think it might actually work this time."

She nipped his finger. "It might. And Gale could help refine it further. He always had good insights about the magical theory behind the transformative properties."

That was true. Gale and Zel had worked well together in the past, their different approaches to magic complementing each other. The wizard's theoretical knowledge combined with Zel's practical experimentation had produced remarkable results.

Astarion sighed, already knowing he would give in.

"Just think—you could lay in the sun while I scratch your tummy." Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "And Gale always has the best wine."

"I do not need my tummy scratched." He pulled back, affronted. "I'm not some common housecat."

"No?" She propped herself up on an elbow. "You're constantly preening your hair."

"It's called grooming, darling. Some of us care about our appearance."

"And you get unreasonably excited about sunbathing."

"Two centuries without sun will do that to anyone."

"You mark your territory." Zel gestured to the pattern of bite marks she'd let scar rather than heal magically to humor his odd impulses. So her point was valid. But he did not want Zel to get the idea that he approved of her calling him a cat.

"I do not—"

"You literally hissed at that merchant who touched your favorite coat."

"He was being presumptuous."

"You creep around in shadows and pounce on things."

"That's called being a rogue."

"You get bitey when your dignity is offended."

"I most certainly do not—"

"And you really like having your butthole licked."

He snapped his mouth shut, fangs clicking together. The worst part was she wasn't entirely wrong, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. Especially about that last bit.

"I am feeling rather bitey at the moment," he growled, nipping at her shoulder.

Her delighted laugh echoed through their chamber. "See? Proving my point."

Astarion's smile faded as he watched Zel's eyes drift toward their window. She always got that distant look when thinking about Gale. His chest tightened with an emotion he refused to name.

"Perhaps..." The words caught in his throat. "Perhaps he simply doesn't wish to be found."

Zel's attention snapped back to him. "What do you mean?"

"Moving on. Living his life." Astarion traced the curve of her hip, keeping his touch light. "We can't expect him to orbit around us forever, darling. Even if you—" He paused, forcing the words past centuries of practiced deflection. "Even if you still care for him."

Astarion watched the shadow pass across Zel's face. He knew that look—had seen it countless times when Gale's name came up. The wizard's absence had left a void in her that even Astarion's love couldn't quite fill. Not that she ever complained or showed regret for choosing him. But he noticed. Of course he noticed.

He remembered how it had been, in those early days after the break. Gale, ever the gentleman, had stepped aside gracefully when Zel refused to give up her relationship with Astarion. The wizard had wanted exclusivity—a traditional romance. But Zel loved differently, loved wholly, and wouldn't compromise one heart to please another.

Their parting had been gentle. No harsh words, no bitter accusations. Just quiet acceptance that their paths diverged. Gale had remained their friend, sharing meals and adventures, offering his wisdom and wit. But something had shifted, become careful and awkwardly contained, like a book whose pages could no longer lie flat.

Astarion had watched it all, uncertain how to navigate this peculiar dance. He understood possession, understood jealousy—but Zel treated love like an endless well, drawing deep without depleting. Her heart expanded to hold them both, even if Gale couldn't accept the arrangement she offered.

Now, seeing that familiar shadow in her eyes, Astarion felt the old uncertainty stir. He never questioned Zel's love for him—she proved it daily in a thousand small ways. But he wondered, sometimes, if she would have chosen differently if he had been the one to demand she choose.

"I didn't mean to suggest we abandon him," Astarion added softly, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "Only that we should be prepared if he's chosen to move forward without us."

"I want to go see him." Zel caught his hand, pressing it flat against her skin.

"Zel—"

"I want to go see him." Her voice grew firmer.

"And if he turns us away?"

"I want to go see him." The third time held the weight of certainty.

Astarion closed his eyes, fighting twin impulses—to protect her from potential rejection, and to shield himself from facing desires he had buried since their earliest days together. The thought of seeing Gale again stirred something dangerous in his chest. Something that whispered of missed chances and lingering looks.

But more than that, Gale's silence felt wrong. The wizard had never been one to simply vanish, even after their paths diverged. And if something was truly amiss...

"Fine." He opened his eyes, meeting her determined gaze. "But only because you promised belly scratches in the sun. And because..." He hesitated, then admitted, "Because I don't actually believe he's just busy with research."

"You're worried about him too."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "Perhaps a bit. Don't let it go to your head."

Astarion rolled Zel onto her back, straddling her hips. "If you're going to insist on comparing me to a feline, darling, then I insist on being treated like one." His eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and a desire to lighten the moment for Zel's sake.

Zel's laughter was low and throaty. "Is that so?" Her hands slid up his thighs.

"Mmm." He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. "And I expect you to be thorough."

"Wouldn't dream of doing it any other way." She nipped at his lower lip before pushing him gently onto his back. Astarion went willingly.

Zel moved down his body, her breath hot against his cool flesh. "So, my little kitty," she murmured, her voice laced with teasing affection, "where do you want me to start?"

Astarion stretched languidly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, if you're going to groom me properly..." He shifted, spreading his knees and angling his hips before meeting her appreciative gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"Demanding little thing, aren't you?" She laughed softly, her hands spreading him open. Her fingers caressed him in a way that was both gentle and possessive.

Astarion let out a soft moan as her head dipped down and her tongue found its mark. The warmth and wetness sent shivers down his spine. "Gods, Zel..."

"Mmm?" She hummed against him, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Astarion's eyes fluttered closed as Zel's tongue traced delicate circles around his rim. Every nerve ending sparked with pleasure, his body relaxing into the sensation. She took her time, exploring every inch of him with a thoroughness that left him breathing deeply through the pleasure.

His breath hitched when she finally pressed her tongue inside him, the invasion slow and deliberate. His body responded immediately, the muscles clenching around her, drawing her deeper. She hummed in appreciation, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through him.

"You know," she murmured, pulling back, "I love how your body just sucks me in. It's like you're trying to devour me."

Astarion laughed, the sound a mix of amusement and frustration. "Zel, darling, I do believe that's the point." He shifted, trying to chase the sensation she'd withdrawn. "And I must object to you stopping."

She grinned, sitting back on her heels. "Patience, kitty. I'm just getting started."

He watched as she turned to her nearby rack filled with small bottles and vials. Each one was labeled neatly in her precise handwriting—a collection of oils and ointments she'd concocted specifically for their use. He'd been adamant about not letting her test her more experimental creations on him in bed, but her lubricants were exquisite.

Astarion propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she selected a bottle. "The lavender one," he suggested, knowing it was his favorite. The scent was subtle, the texture smooth and long-lasting.

Zel glanced at him, a smirk playing on her lips. "Demanding and specific. Someone's eager."

"Always, when it comes to you." He let his gaze roam over her body, appreciating the curves and lines he knew so well. The sight of her, the anticipation of what was to come, sent a thrill through him.  He watched her move with that familiar grace, his chest tight with affection. Everything about her touch was generous and gentle, from the way her fingers skimmed his skin to how she anticipated his desires before he voiced them.

What made it precious - what made him absolutely melt for her - was knowing there wasn't a trace of pity in her tenderness. She didn't tiptoe around his past trauma or treat him like some fragile, broken thing that needed coddling. No, her gentleness came purely from learning what brought him pleasure and delighting in providing it. She touched him softly because she knew he loved it, because it made him shiver and sigh, and because his enjoyment was reward enough for her. That understanding, that pure acceptance of who and what he was, made him adore her all the more.

She uncapped the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto her fingers. The scent of lavender filled the air, soothing and arousing at the same time. He hummed in approval, spreading his legs wider in invitation.

"Now," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "where were we?"

She coated her fingers carefully and then they took the place of her mouth, circling, teasing, knowing exactly what he liked.

Zel indulged her own impulses, her teeth grazing his inner thigh. The slight sting made him hiss, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched, entranced, as she lapped at the small wound, her tongue collecting the beads of blood. The sight sent a shiver down his spine—a mix of arousal and something deeper, something uniquely theirs.

Their natures, dhampir and vampire, were an odd fit. Her body warm and alive, his cool and eternally still. Somehow, they complemented each other perfectly. Her blood was his sustenance in a way his ichor could never be for her, but they had been pleased to find that small amounts had interesting effects beyond feeding her bitey blood kink.

Zel pulled back slightly, her breath hot against his sensitive flesh. "You taste incredible," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Like cool night air and something uniquely you."

Astarion chuckled, the sound breathless. "I do believe that's the oddest compliment I've ever received."

She grinned, her teeth flashing in the dim light. "Well, you are rather odd." She slipped the first finger inside, making him shiver. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

He laughed, the sound turning into a moan as she slowly worked deeper inside him. His body opened for her easily, the warm slickness of the oil she'd used earlier easing her way. She took her time, her finger moving in slow, deliberate strokes, her tongue mirroring the motion against his thigh and sometimes teasingly back at his rim.

Astarion's eyes fluttered closed, his body melting into the sensation. The warmth of her touch, the slick heat of her mouth, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat—it was all so overwhelmingly perfect. He felt cherished, adored. And in that moment, he knew he was home. Not a place, but a feeling. A sense of belonging that transcended their peculiar natures and bound them together.

He reached down, tangling his fingers in her hair, gently guiding her mouth to where he needed her most.

Zel chuckled, the sound vibrating against his sensitive flesh. She added a finger and picked up the pace inside of him while she took the head of his cock into her mouth. She knew every spot, every trick to make him come undone.

Astarion's breath hitched as she hit just the right angle, her fingers curling inside him. "Zel... gods, yes..."

"Like that, do you?" Her voice was a purr, low and satisfied, as she kissed up and down his shaft.

"You know I do." He arched his back, pressing against her, chasing the sensation. His cock was hard again, dripping, desperate for more.

Zel's free hand wrapped around him, her grip firm and sure. She stroked him in time with her mouth and fingers, leaving him gasping for air he didn't need but somehow felt desperate for.

"You're... ah... you're enjoying this..." He panted, his body tensing.

"Mmm-hmm." She hummed again, the sound sending another wave of pleasure crashing through him. "I love making you happy, Astarion. And I love getting my way."

He laughed, the sound breathless and broken. "You always get your way, darling."

"Damn right I do." She pulled back, her eyes shining with mischief and love. Her fingers never stopped moving, beckoning him slowly and surely toward his edge.

Astarion reached down, pulling her up to kiss her deeply. He could taste himself on her lips, a mix of sweet and salty that was uniquely them and a hint of the lavender oil at the corners of her mouth. "I love you."

"I love you too, Astarion." She smiled against his mouth, one hand still wrapped around him, her fingers still moving inside him. "And soon, we'll go see our friend. But for now..." She kissed him again, gentle and loving.

Astarion's breath hitched as Zel's gentle touch unraveled him. It was her tenderness that undid him as much as her skill. His body tensed, balls drawing up tight, and she pressed harder against that spot inside him, her mouth pulling away from his just in time to indulge this other kink of his. He came undone, his vision whiting out with pleasure as he painted her breasts with his release.

Zel's soft hum of appreciation brought him back to himself, his eyes fluttering open to see her admiring the mess he'd made as she eased her fingers out of his hole. She leaned down, her tongue tracing circles around his nipples, sending little jolts of pleasure through him. His body shivered, oversensitive and spent, but her touch was gentle, coaxing aftershocks from his nerves.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice warm with affection. "So beautiful." Her fingers traced the edge of his hole, slick with oil. She didn't clean him with magic, instead choosing to lap at his skin, her tongue darting out and dipping in, her own unique take on aftercare.

Astarion's cheeks flushed, a mix of strange possession and arousal heating his cool skin. He loved this—the way she praised him, the way she took her time to clean him intimately. Her tongue licked deeper inside him, cleaning away the remnants of oil, sending the last few ripples of pleasure through his oversensitive flesh.

Zel pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. "You taste so good, Astarion. I could do this all day." Her voice was a low purr, vibrating against his skin.

Astarion's lips curved into a soft smile, his body relaxing under her touch. "You're insatiable, darling."

"Only for you." She pressed a gentle kiss to his inner thigh, her fingers still tracing delicate patterns on his skin where her nips had already healed. "And I think you like it."

"Mmm." He stretched languidly, his body humming with contentment. "I think you've made your point."

Astarion's eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He let himself sink into the sensation, into the warmth of her touch and the gentleness of her care. This was what he loved—the way she made him feel cherished, the way she took her time to draw out every last bit of pleasure.

"Zel..." Her name was a soft whisper on his lips, a plea and a praise all rolled into one.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. "Yes, Astarion?"

"I... Just..." He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "Thank you."

Her smile softened, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You're welcome, my love. Always."

[easy-there-leftovers]

Can be read as a continuation to my previous work about Gale, but can also be read independently. In any case, this is mostly a filler short.

Today had been a tiring day, especially for their de-facto leader, Gale thinks. The situation at the goblin village could have turned for the worse had you not smooth talked your way through.

And yet you’ve gone back to dueling the fire with your eyes again, he notes. However unlike last time, he chooses to stay put in his own corner of the camp.

Given his last attempt at light but stimulating conversation, he’s mostly sure that he will never do such a thing ever again. Lest he wants to feel the less than comfortable stares of everyone awake when he returns to his tent.

Alone and unaccompanied.

Doesn’t mean that he can’t observe you from here though. While he should be reading up on a rather interesting book he picked up from today’s skirmish, the pages haven’t been graced with his eyes quite nearly as much as your form.

Naturally, he doesn’t realize this until something, or rather someone, catches his attention.

Astarion.

Usually not one to leave his own comfortable area of the camp, it was surprising to see him choose to settle in at a bedroll nearer the fire.

To approach you in such a manner. Almost as if you were familiar with another.

“Which couldn’t be since you would have only met one another after the crash,” he reasons.

Astarion makes a comment from his lax position on his bedroll. Opens the conversation with you the same way that he’s certain he did a few nights ago, and yet the response couldn’t be more different.

The action draws what looks to be an exasperated sigh from you, but Gale notices your eyes soften at the elf’s remark. You don’t turn to face him, but still respond while focusing on the camp’s light.

Astarion stands to be nearer to you, perhaps trying to convince you of something, as he slings an arm around your shoulder. Face, nearing yours. The thumb of his slung-over hand seemingly grazing the skin of your exposed collarbone, uncovered by the looser strings of your shirt.

Gale feels his jaw slacken as he watches this very scene unfold before him. The book, long forgotten as the strength in his arm wanes, almost dropping it. He feels his eyes bug out of his skull when he sees you place your hand on top the pale fellow’s in what he can only assume is an affectionate gesture.

He’ll admit, perhaps he wasn’t paying attention to you earlier in the days you reunited. With the way you were avoiding him, it seemed like you wanted him to forget you existed or pretend like you didn’t know each other.

But how could he?

How could he when you inspired him so?

How could he when your wit and creativity showed him more ways the weave could be practiced?

How could he when he knew that all your friends had always been more like Aatarion’s type, and that you’ve always seemed to avoid his?

He supposed he shouldn’t be be surprised then, if he claims to know you so well. It was inevitable that you would warm up to the elf so quickly. Alike in charm and nerve.

And if you still haven’t warmed up to the wizard in the years of study you shared, he doubts you ever will.

He watches how pleasing the pair of you look. With the sheer charisma you two radiated, it didn’t take much for anyone to assume you would have been coupled up or at the very least intimately engaged.

Ah, but where will all this conjecture get him? He’s still dealing with the loss of Mystra’s favor and it’s vicious consequences. What use would it be to watch like this?

He takes one last look at your joined hands before he sees you respond and heads in to his tent. Perhaps a bit of rest will help temper whatever wave of emotions it is that washes over him.

“Astarion.” You warn with your warmer hand atop his.

“Hm?”

You turn your head to look at him and you’re greeted by that self-aggrandizing smirk that always curls up on his face.

The sight makes you sigh. No answer to his earlier question will get you out of this.

Tricky bastard.

“Your fingers are cold.” He clicks his tongue at that, but removes himself from your form anyway. A catty, “you’re no fun” leaving his lips as he distances himself from you.

He smiles anyway and tilts his head to the side. Standing to rest all his weight on one leg, and waves you off with one hand.

“I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” You shakes your head at that and turn to leave.

“Good night Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams, dear mage.”

He’s convinced you enough to try.

[thranduil-aran-edhil]

There are 3 ways to revive Astarion/reverse his vampirism in D&D 5e. Two are baked into the mechanical rules. And one would be interesting to roleplay.

OBS: im not counting the method used in BG2EE where you can use Bodhi's Heart to revert Jaheira's/Viconia's/Aerie's/Anomen's vampirism.

The first one is True Resurrection. Now, of course, by the time the Tadfools can get a hold of this (by level 17), the whole thing with "the creature can only have been dead for 200 years" would make it a bit inconvenient. HOWEVER, Astarion isn't dead, he's UNdead. So they would have to kill him. A funny mental image, in my opinion. This would be the most certain way to revive him. (if you're going with Rules As Written, if you're spicy and like the Matt Mercer method, it could be less certain)

The second one is the Wish spell. Which is a very interesting spell, it would need a specific and clear wording to revive him. There's a chance it won't work. And there's a chance that the caster (most likely Gale) won't ever be able to cast the spell ever again.

The final one... comes from Elven High Magic. The only magic in DnD that can still go beyond level 9 even after Mystra's prohibition after Netheril's Fall. All of the spells are ritual and communal. It's quite thematically fitting, as Astarion is an Elf, but he never says anything about Elven culture in the game. It's Ye Olde Lore, like 2e (AD&D). Here's the spell in its entirety:

Gift of Life (Wizard Spell) This powerful high magic spell has an effect unlike any other. It restores undead creatures to life. Undead creatures are allowed a saving throw vs. death magic, but they can only make such a roll at a level equal to half their Hit Dice. An 18th-level lich, for example, would make a sav­ing throw vs. death magic as if it were actually a 9th-level wizard. If the undead creature fails its saving throw, it is immediately restored to life as it was just before its death, if it died by unnatural causes. It is restored to life as it was 10 years before its death if it died of old age or similar causes. The restored creature is stunned and incapable of any action for 1d4 turns as it slowly realizes what happened. The restored creature returns to life at an appropriate experience and Hit Die level, and with its original alignment and abilities. It will, however, be wearing the same clothes, and carry­ing whatever equipment (if any) that it did as an undead creature. This spell does not necessarily change the alignment of a creature that was originally evil, but the elves recount legends of wicked liches or vampires who were restored through this spell, repented their old lives, and changed alignment, dedicating themselves to the defense of elves. The material component of this spell is a gold medallion in the form of the sun (worth at least 500 gp). Notes: Restricted to elves able to cast High Magic, such as those of Evermeet.

And here's an interesting alternative, based on the D&D Elven High Magic from angelfire.com:

Suyoll/The Revival: This ritual restores an elf's life, health, and harmony with the Weave. This is seen as an acceptance back into the community of elves, despite any changes that occur during the elf’s life (or death). This ritual restores an elf’s natural state, neutralizing all ill or unnatural effects upon him. It cancels curses of any nature other than those divinely placed (i.e., personally inflicted by a god) and spell effects such as petrification and polymorph. Suyoll allows the regrowth of full limbs, muscles, and organs (such as eyes, tongue, etc.). It also negates any magical or non-voluntary alignment changes. The most advanced form of this ritual involves the restoration of undead elves to a living state, as they were 100 years before their deaths or transformations. GM’s Note: This ritual is rarely used; for the elves are a stubborn lot and forgiveness is not a virtue they practice often. Thus, any outcast elf or seriously injured elf is often perceived as pitiful or as a fool who learned his lesson for straying away from the path of elvenkind. However, great sacrifices made for sake of a clan or kingdoms are looked upon proudly, and the Suyoll is invoked to honour heroes who act in such interests. This ritual can even restore a Drow to status among the Tel`Quessir, though the ritual erases all powers (but not appearance) of the Drow (judge as a moon elf).

Do with these informations what you will, I just thought it would be nice to share :D

[elspethdekarios]

Random Gale Dekarios Headcanons

Hello I'm just thinking about That Man again

These are all SFW and just mundane life-after-tadpole thoughts.

Gale's home is clean but he is messy. The dishes are done, scented candles are lit, linens are laundered, but my man's got shit everywhere. Parchment, books, and quills are scattered in the areas he finds himself working in most often. Potion bottles in disarray. Random trinkets throughout the house. Grooming products cluttering the bathroom sink. He's very diligent about making his bed every morning, though.

Once he and tav have settled down post-game, his favorite thing to do is surprise them with breakfast in bed. He gets up extra early and goes all out on creating a tray of food--making their favorite tea, eggs exactly how they like them (extra butter, though, always), pancakes or some sort of pastry he can whip up quickly, and a vase holding a flower plucked from the window planter. He does this at least once a tenday.

Gale was worried his tower would be in the same depression-mess state as he left it once he brought tav home. He spent the journey home apologizing in advance for the disarray and promising that he's not a slob, he swears, it was just a difficult time. Tav, of course, assures him that there's no need to apologize, and that they'll help him clean the place up once they get there. Once they arrive, he cringes as he opens the front door, only to be taken aback by his home looking perfectly normal and clean. A grin spreads across his face as Tara stretches from her cushion in the window. ("Honestly, Mr. Dekarios, did you think I'd continue to live in such a state?")

He carries around a small portrait of tav in his pocket. Origin of this hc here lol

I know in the epilogue, the orb and all traces of it are completely gone, but I like to think that it left a scar. In certain lighting you can see that it's not just on his skin like a tattoo, but it's almost carved into his flesh, like a scar. I'm sure Mystra could smooth the skin where the orb was like it never happened, but we all know she's a petty bitch, so I think it's reasonable to think she could have taken the scar away, but chose to leave it as a reminder of Gale's mistake. The dark, weaving swirls have turned pale pink and translucent. Tav likes to mindlessly run their fingers over it while they lie in bed at night.

Speaking of, you cannot tell me the orb doesn't leave Gale with some sort of chronic pain, even after it's cured. I'm sure it's not as intense as the arcane hunger he felt before, but there are bound to be days where he's just very lethargic or dealing with lingering pain/discomfort similar to what he felt before the orb was dormant.

On a lighter note--he always has music playing in his home. Whether it's the piano in his study or an enchanted lyre he's charmed to float around in the kitchen as he cooks.

[faerybella219]

Goddess of All Magic (Gale x Unnamed Tav)

A/N: Planning on making this a chaptered series inspired by Phantom of the Opera because it has been on repeat for me lately. Also literary comparison between Christine x Phantom and Gale x Mystra in terms of manipulated relationships from a young age. Sorry I'm high anyway this starts right before the weave scene. Starts at Gale's POV. Also Gale references to reader as Tav (they/them) and Tav's POV uses "you".

Tags: Gale x reader, mystra being manipulative, maybe 3 part fic, angst?, comfort?, eventual smut

Words: 2k

Tags: @darcydekarios @optimisticgrey @whiskeyskin @warmsummersday

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

Foe after foe slain. Crystallized icy blasts shrieked as they cut through air and flesh, only to be melted from the next fireball's heat wave. Gale's concentration never broke. Not even as Tav soaked themself in blood on the frontlines. They were a violent heaven.

He was condemned. The empty sheath of their sword glimmered in the blazing sun. A longing pang rang loud within his ribcage. How could he think himself so innocent? Another direct hit. A pungent sting infected his senses- burnt flesh. Did Mystra think of him?

In the midst of battle when he called upon her power she had to be present. She wouldn't listen to his prayers. This was his punishment. Magic missiles shot from the crevice of his connected, outstretched palms. Three heavy thuds were heard among the war cries and clashes of metal. No matter the repentance, he was to hold the world in his chest. He grew bitter, but the shame ate him alive.

Goblin bodies line the bloody dirt path before him. The road had grown quiet. The others had done well, but every shot from Gale on the backline was a critical hit. The impact was undeniable. Was it hard for her to turn from him? Gale began to drift into the unknown. Glimpses of Mystra's world, which she only teased him with. What could they have done together? No- don't think about the way things might have been.

Heaving, Tav checked on Karlach who blazed next to them. Shadowheart gave them an affirming nod, breathing hard, and glanced at Gale with a surprisingly-impressed smirk. Lost in thought, he stared ahead at Tav, who seemed to be trying to get his attention.

"Hm?" He turned to Tav, coming back to ground level, his eyes softening.

"Great job out there. Let's head back to camp for the night."

Noting Gale's unassured demeanor, Tav's gaze flickered over him.

"You alright? You seem more... tense... than usual."

His gaze sharpened Tav into focus, and a flicker of light emanated from his chest. The glow was barely noticeable from under his robes.

"Yes. Quite alright. Just.. distracted.. is all."

Tav held a suspicious gaze over him, but let it go. "Alright then, let's go."

—--

The flames of the campfire casted a flickering, warm glow over Gale's figure. He stood in solitude, his back to the light. However, you could tell from the blue shine which lit his face that he was casting something. For a moment you felt the urge to look away, not wanting to interrupt something important. However, your curiosity and concern at his disposition from earlier overtook your tendency towards politeness.

He didn't notice you approach, his eyes lingering over a magical projection of a mature woman's face. You walk around his shoulder so you're within his field of vision, and he jumps upon seeing you.

"Oh! My, you startled me... I was miles away."

Maybe let's ease into the topic at hand. "You fought well today! Where did you learn how to use magic?"

He gives a welcoming sigh through his nose, "Ah, I was a student at Blackstaff Academy most of my life, but had a complicated and advanced relationship with the Weave since I could form sentences."

You had heard of Blackstaff Academy in Waterdeep from living in Baldur's Gate. Only the most prestigious students were able to attend, and the school wasn't cheap either.

"Oh, I've heard of it! Did you have a favorite tutor?" His brightening demeanor seemed to dampen.

"I'm sure you have, and my tutor happens to be the most renowned of them all. Mystra, the Goddess of all magic... of all creation."

You can't help the feeling of your heart sinking a little, although your neurons peak with curiosity still. "I didn't realize the depth of your devotion."

"Magic is... my life.” Gale explains his connection to the Weave since childhood, his hands gesturing wildly with passion. His expression was bittersweet despite the praise. The warmth within his eyes was cast onto you, and there was a magnetic connection drawing you to lock into his gaze.

"My mother, when I was young, spoke of Mystra. We all worshipped her. As a boy, I used to dream she would appear in the night and lay a kiss on my head. It would bless me with her power..." He seems to drift off for a moment before continuing, appearing to be in a different place. "The moonlit air always smelt like roses after I woke, and I felt her presence. A tingle of electricity right there," and pointed to the space between his brows. A softness overtook him as his eyes bore into yours. Admiration. "When you act as a conduit to the Weave, you experience the softness of Mystra's embrace. It is a poem, a symphony, and all physical beauty."

Gale raises his open palm in invitation. "Would you like to experience this?"

Wordlessly, you took his hand, and the gentle scent of rosewater filled your senses. Magenta light began to tornado around you, and wind whipped Gale's robes and hair in all directions. The two of you were in the eye of the storm. Powerful and dangerous electricity surrounds you. This is safety. This is warmth. Gale closes his eyes and through your connection you can hear his thoughts,

Goddess of Magic, guide and guardian, bring to me your glory. Goddess of Magic, hide no longer, o sacred, strange, and mighty.

It felt like a kind touch, a shared connection. You were in control of the Weave. Gale shouted victoriously, "That's it! You're doing it! You're channeling the Weave!" 

Then you sense it- sense her. Mystra is here. She calls to you softly from within yourself and your surroundings. You are and are within the weave, all consuming and all encompassing. She is the unseen genius behind all magic.

Gale turns to you, full of excitement, “How do you feel?” 

On the surface you are warm, sensual, even. However, it tastes of something too sweet. It lingers on your tongue for too long. You smile at him, taken away by his smile in the moment, "Effortless. You are a wonderful teacher."

He chuckles, bordering on breathlessness, "Oh, I know."

His tone is flirtatious enough to thicken the air. Suddenly his touch feels electric, his eye contact unbearably intimate. The Weave is making you one. The space that separates you seems to be getting smaller on its own, your bodies drawn to each other. The filter between your minds is gone, and the imagined sensation of pressing your lips to Gale's overtook you before you could control it. It would begin tender, your hand softly cupping both sides of his face. However, passion would soon befall tenderness as you would grasp his hair, breathing becoming uncontrolled as your inhibitions fall apart.

Gale seems to snap out of your vision, "Oh! I... I didn't think..."

You can feel his emotions, the Weave still connecting you. His hand has grown cold, his face white. You quickly sense embarrassment, excitement, and... fear. You're frozen solid, not quite sure what to do about your unintentional confession regarding feelings you didn't know you felt until this moment.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't-"

"No, I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting..." a look of bittersweet contemplation lingers over Gale’s features. "But it is a, uhm, pleasant image to be sure." He shakes his head, as if clearing his mind of something.

With a clearer voice he says, "Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome." His eyes lingered over your lips for a moment longer, but your connection drops. Suddenly the night feels cold- unprotected. The Weave evaporated in front of your eyes, and you realize the Mother of Magic has left you.

Gale's eyes scattered around- alarmed, almost skittish, then saddened. He let out a breath. It sounded as if it came from a deep, lonely place within him, "Hoh... there it goes..." His eyes search the air for a moment longer before landing on yours, "how easily things slip away from us.. no matter how hard they were in the obtaining."

Gale's gaze flickers to the ground and he steps away. "Good night. I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you."

You wished to be able to feel his emotions again. Did you embarrass yourself? It seemed like he felt the same way... but it sure doesn't feel like this ended the way it was supposed to.

-----

Gale attempted to hide the panic rising within him as he walked to his tent. He hadn’t lost concentration. The way the Weave simply slipped from his fingers, as if it were being confiscated, he had only felt once before. After the confrontation with Mystra, after the installation of his shame. 

Swiftly, he flipped up the entrance to his tent and stormed inside. He began pacing. For just a moment he had forgotten about his guilt, his punishment, his hubris induced burden. Mystra had not made her presence known to that capacity in months. She had not answered his prayers, she ignored his words of praise, his humbled apologies, his pleas, and his tears. But now… now she reveals herself to him like a petty ex-lover?

Back and forth Gale continued to pace in his tiny tent, biting his fingernails, which he never used to do and now does frequently. Surely, she is angry. This is a form of guidance. Who was he to trivialize the Weave into a party trick? His soul was weak, bending to impress Tav. Sweet Tav, who was always understanding of him. 

Gale looked into the mirror standing in his tent. Face pale as moon and clearly frazzled, he broke off the tip of another fingernail and mentally chastised himself for engaging in the bad habit. A drop of blood began to pool in his nail bed from a pulled hangnail, and he couldn’t help but picture Tav kissing the wound better. They wipe the blood away and place a light kiss upon the wound. They would suck the tip of his finger between their lips and- 

A stabbing chest pain and a flash of bright purple light interrupted his stream of consciousness. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. Clutching the scarring on his chest he breathed heavily until the pain passed. A gust of wind blew through Gale’s tent. Various book pages were sent fluttering, a quill and inkpot knocked over. Looking back into the mirror, he jumped. For a brief moment Mystra was behind him, hand on his shoulder. A scent of rosewater. He blinked and the apparition was gone. Gale let out a sharp breath, eyes wide. Could he still be redeemed in Mystra’s eyes? It feels wrong, like a test or a trap. He closed his eyes in an attempt to steady himself. Rest was needed for the journey tomorrow. 

As Gale lay awake in bed his mind wouldn’t stop racing. He thought of the orb, how Mystra was the one to install it between his ribs, how she could likely detonate it if she wanted to. What if he had gone past “shunned” and outraged her enough to, well, “blow”. Or, even if he didn’t explode, would she strip him from using magic? It is all he has ever known. He was only ever a vessel for her power and spirit to flow through, her favorite conduit. Her voice calls to him through the Weave singing sweet words and whispering the name she gave him “Gale of Waterdeep”. 

He thought of his developing feelings for Tav and how he wants to keep them safe from the orb, from himself. He thought of the fact Tav doesn’t know his name- his real name. Exhaustion crept into the recesses of his semi-conscious mind, his senses abandoning their defenses, and he slept. 

[keppsfreakerroom]

bloodweave angst

i wrote this for the lovely @roweeniedraws as an informal trade for the Hellgrove request

inspired by the song Geyser by mitski

A letter found on the desk of Gale Dekarios

My Starlight,

My Starlight, 

     Oh how I miss you. 

  Ever since you pulled me out of the portal I had gotten stuck in, I was drawn to you. 

Your charm was so magnetic, so powerful. The amount of times I found myself lost in your eyes while at camp, or trekking through Faerun on our journey. Not just your eyes but your smile, your laughter. I always knew your sweet words were laden with something more, something deeper. Part of me was worried but I couldn’t stop myself from craving every single word, every delicious syllable spilling from your lips.  The way you would look to me, corners of your mouth turned up ever so slightly when you would see Shadowheart and La’Zell sneaking off together. Every time your eyes lit up when I walked over to your tent. Every gentle caress. Every soft kiss and sweet sigh. The way you practiced with your dagger, never faltering, never failing. The way your hands moved over your buttons and buckles whenever you were trying on new armor. Watching you during our numerous battles and fights, the way you moved was always so sharp and precise, but still so fluid and elegant. You even made violence beautiful, if just for a moment. 

Seeing you connect with the weave, seeing you wanted to be more than just traveling companions, than allies. It made my heart soar. You made me feel as if the world was just us. When you told off Elminster after he delivered Mystra’s news regarding the orb, you made me feel hope, you made me feel like my life was in my own hands for once. When you stood by me as I went to speak with Mystra herself, you encouraged me to be better by simply being myself and not repeat the follies of man. You became so much more to me, you became me world, my sun, my night sky. My starlight.

 Knowing now what you were going through, nothing could make me blame you. We needed each other, we protected each other. We fought for each other. I don't blame you for trying to protect yourself. I don't even blame you for making me fall in love with you, for my time with you was sweeter than even Karlach’s favorite cakes from the bakery in the lower city by Razamith’s tower. I know that even though it all started because of self preservation, that you cared for me deeply as well. I know that none of this is your fault. 

   I know.

 I don't hate you. I don't blame you. I just hate missing you. I hate knowing I'll never be able to wake up to you, or have you distract me from my tomes by sitting in my lap. I hate how I’ll never be able to show you around waterdeep, or introduce you to my mother and the rest of the Dekarios clan. I hate how no matter how much I tried to be what you needed it didn't work. I hate how I promised you to not use the orb against the brain. I hate how I promised to give Mystra the crown back. I hate how I promised you I would not become a God. Maybe if I had, things would be different. 

But I don't hate you my Star. I don’t think I regret any choices I made. 

All my choices led me to you. 

It was all the choices I didn’t make.

   I regret not killing Cazador myself. 

     I regret not loving you enough to show you that you didn't need to become the Vampire Ascendant.

I regret not being what you needed, I wasn't able to be there for you like you were for me. I regret not being good enough to help you through your toughest battles and your fiercest fights. 

  I should have told you how much I loved you, I should have shown you. I should have researched reversing vampirism rather than trying to get the damned crown of Karsus. 

I should have been good enough. You deserved so much more, so much better, My Star. 

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I had to do what I did. You must know that I couldn’t just let you sacrifice all those souls, don't you? I refused to let you turn yourself into Cazador. I refused to let you become what you so hated.

   I’m so sorry My Starlight.

   Thank you for loving me, even though I wasn’t enough.

I’ll miss you even after the sands of time take me.

     Forever yours, 

          Your Moonbeam

[underprivilegedcactus]

Something has been niggling at the back of my mind about Gale and his falling out with Mystra for a while now.

Before we begin, I feel the need to put a disclaimer here and say that I love Gale to pieces and even if this thing I've been thinking about turned out to be canon, I still want to drop kick Mystra. But like I said, a though occured to me about the circumstances of their break up.

In short, what if their breakup wasn't because Gale didn't listen to Mystra when she told him to not go after the piece of the weave he thought was hers? What if, instead, it was the final straw after a long history of Gale going after sources of power that Mystra repeatedly told him to leave alone?

Ignoring the fact that wizards are pushed to always aim higher anyways, we know that Gale is someone who has always sought out more power, opinions of (most) others and consequences be damned. How many terrifyingly powerful objects ended up in his tower because Mystra mentioned them and he decided to collect them? How many did she emphatically tell him to leave alone because they were too dangerous? How many times did he nearly cause a disaster because he assumed that because he was the mighty Gale of Waterdeep, it wouldn't go wrong? How many times did Mystra or Elminster have to save his ass?

To be clear, even if this is the truth it still doesn't justify her treatment of him, but to me it would make a bit more sense as to why she ghosted him after he absorbed the orb. It's still on brand for her to do that after one big disaster, but cutting off all contact is frankly a bit extreme for a first offense, regardless of the magnitude of the failure. But if the orb came after a series of situations where she told him to leave stuff be or to be more patient and he repeatedly refused to listen to her, I think even I would be pissed off enough to not want to talk to him either, at least not for a while.

No one appreciates having their knowledge and advice repeatedly ignored, especially if you are literally the primary source on all things magic. The literal Goddess of Magic told him this was neither something she wanted nor was it something that Gale was equipped to handle, and Gale thought he knew better anyways. And I know there's a million fair reasons as to why Gale is the way he is, the least of which is from going through the Gifted Person (TM) experience where you're told all your life that you're special and head and shoulders above your peers. It's still harmful to believe you know better than people objectively more qualified.

Unfortunately, this can be hard to see under how vile Mystra is to him. I'll probably write about that soon in another novel of a post, but I just wanted to throw out a potential angle that some people might have missed when it comes to Mystra and Gale's breakup. Again, it's not canon, and it's not even my own personal headcanon or anything, but it is something that's come to mind when thinking about their relationship and how it ended. I still love Gale, and if anything this just adds a really interesting potential layer to his backstory.

P.S.: It has also occured to me that Gale was extraordinarily lucky that whatever magical seal he broke when he opened the book didn't just immediately cause the Karsus weave to detonate right then and there and kill thousands of people in Waterdeep. Gale's mistake was honest, but it was an extremely foolish one and entirely preventable.

P.P.S: Editing some typos and also wholeheartedly agreeing that Gale wasn't only looking for raw power, but knowledge and pushing the boundaries of the weave! ☺️

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 2 b: the loss scene

in early access, gale had two additional major scenes in act i: the deer stew scene and the loss scene, both of which would happen during a long rest at camp.

the scenes in early access usually happened in this order:

-1: first night long rest scene (still in the final game) -2: mirror image scene (still in the final game) -3: deer stew scene (cut content / partially reused in act i) -4: weave scene (still in the final game) -5: loss scene (cut content) -6: tiefling party scene (ea version cut / partially reused in act ii last night alive scene)

you can watch the entire scene here. below you'll find the transcript of the scene itself as well as some additional info / context.

the loss scene revealed more about gale's life before the game, his abilities as a chosen of mystra and as an archwizard, as well as his status and his relationship with mystra. sadly, it was cut and only seems to have survived as (as of now) obsolete code:

at a long rest, gale would have a ! and stand by the fire, trying and failing to cast a spell:

Gale: [Fails to cast a spell] Gale: Khat-Tsjin Deth-Thra! Protag: [Wizard]: That was a failed spell if ever I heard one.  Gale: Failure. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. It’s getting late. I think I'll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. - Protag [Option 1]: You don't sound very happy there, Gale. Gale: Happiness is like a stray cat; sometimes it seeks you out, sometimes it ignores you. Tonight, I'm ignored. It's getting late. I think I'll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. - Protag [Option 2]: Is something wrong? Gale: Let's just say not all is right. But that goes for all of us. - Protag [Option 3]: Do you mind? I’d like some peace and quiet Gale: Quiet you can have – peace I can’t guarantee. Especially not peace of mind.

Protag [Wizard]: I didn't recognize your hand gestures. What spell were you trying to cast? Gale: A bygone spell from a bygone age. It doesn't matter. - Protag [Option 1]: They say you should never go to bed angry Gale: Isn’t that advice for couples? The only one I’m angry with is myself. Please – just let it rest. - Protag [Option 2]: Ever the mystery man, aren’t you? Gale: I simply have a lot on my mind. - Protag [Option 3]: Suit yourself. Goodnight. Gale: Goodnight.

Protag [Option 1]: [if Protag intiated Gale's romance during the Weave scene] Come, you know I care about you. I showed you when we shared that spell. Gale: So you did. Very well. -> See below - Protag [Option 2]: [Insight] We shared the Weave the other night. Now share what's on your mind.    Gale: [Failure] Tonight's not a night for sharing. Tonight's a night for regrets. With that I bid you an evening better than my own.  Gale: [Success] -> See below - Protag [Option 1]: [Persuasion] I’m the leader of this party. I need to know what’s going on. Gale: [Success]: Very well. Just now, I was trying to cast a spell I once cast with ease, but I failed. You see, this fire – there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was a time I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more – a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I’ve lost. Gale [Failure] You're the leader and I will follow you where you go, not down the path of my own regrets. With that I bid you good night. - Protag [Option 2]: [Intimidation] You will tell me, and you’ll tell me now. Gale: [Failure] I said ‘please’, but that courtesy was a mere formality. What I meant was; you will let it rest. With that I bid you an evening better than my own.  Gale: [Success]: Very well. -> See above

Protag [Option 1]: I don’t understand. What is it that you’ve lost? Gale: I’ve lost… - Protag [Option 2]: Who are you? Gale: I am the man who came after – after having lost... - Protag [Option 3]: If this is meant to be suspenseful, I assure you it’s not. Gale: You don’t understand! I’ve lost… - Protag [Option 4]: It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. Gale: Thank you. You’re a good friend. I want you to know that  - Protag [Option 5]: [Persuasion]: You can tell me. You can trust me. Gale [Failure]: Trust is not the issue. The issue is that the truth doesn’t matter. Secret or revealed, the outcome is the same.  Gale [Success]: I’ve lost Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. To turn the eye of my muse upon me. To win the favour of a goddess. But I failed, and all I invoked was death and dismissal. My death. Her dismissal. - Protag [Option 6]: [Insight] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale [Failure]: I’m strong enough. I’ll carry on alone. With that I bid you an evening better than my own. (Die/Dice Roll Fail) Gale: [Sucess] An apt enough observation.  I've... lost... Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. - Protag [Cleric of Mystra]: I'm sorry. I cannot begin to understand being abandoned by the goddess. Gale: Thank you. You're a good friend. I often think of that moment we shared- - Protag [Cleric of Mystra]: When devotion is blind, the goddess loses sight of you. Rightly too. Gale: You pray to the goddess for every spell and every blessing. You devote your life to her – are we truly so different? 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.

Protag [Option 1]: I’m sorry for you. Protag [Option 2]: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. You’re a good friend.  Gale: [Weave scene wasn't romantic] I want you to know that. I consider myself very lucky to have found you. -> Protag can initiate alternate romance route here -> See below - Gale: [Weave scene was romantic] 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. [end] - Protag [Option 3]: 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. [end]

the loss scene also offered another way to initiate gale's romance:

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. Protag [Option 1]: I think perhaps we could be more than friends. Gale: Perhaps. - Protag [Option 2]: I consider myself lucky too 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.  - Protag [Option 3]: Don’t get carried away imagining feelings that aren’t there. Gale: I see. Say no more. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. - Protag [Option 4]: You are a good friend too, Gale. Gale: Hold on to that thought. I may just have to remind you before all is said and done. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. - Protag [Option 5]: Lets not get sentimental, shall we? Gale: Fair enough. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding.

after the loss scene ended, the player-initiated dialogue had several options following it: you were able to initiate the romance on gale's perhaps, you could address the fact that he mentioned that he thinks about the weave scene with the player still, and lastly, you were able to ask how he can still cast if he had lost mystra's favour so.

if you picked the "I think perhaps we could be more than friends." option during the loss scene, you could talk about what exactly he meant with gale after by intiating a conversation with him again:

Protag: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps.' What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerun defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Sorry, sometimes I can't help but being quite insufferable. Gale: In seriousness, I’m glad you asked that question. 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 we embrace. You are on such event, that soon, I would like to embrace.

you could also follow up with him on the mention of him thinking about the weave scene still:

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

the follow up for the loss scene would also include this dialogue:

Protag: There's one thing, 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 still a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years and in as many ways, I'm still a more than capable wizard. Gale: It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even archwizards would marvel at. To have one hand at the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing. Both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself. Gale: She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list.

anyhow, this wraps the loss scene up.

overall, i'm extremely sad this was cut. i think with minor adjustments this scene would have worked not only to combat the scene disparity amongst the companions, but it also would have fleshed out gale's backstory and character even more!

i hope this was helpful to some of you!

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!

[letters-from-dekarios]

midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

[sasssha199]

Chapter 8: “Well that happened.”

Read all of me on A03

Beware Smut ahead!

Pairings: Rolan x Fem Tav

Summary: Marlie and Sasha have just rescued the tieflings from Last Light. Lia found out about the terrible things Rolan said to Sasha while she was held captive and demands that he make amends to her friend. He tries and things get sexy…

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“Damnation, how can I make things right if you won’t even let me speak to her.”

“You made her cry, Rolan.” Marlie’s voice is radiating impatience.

He says nothing for a moment, I hope he feels bad.

“She’s always crying…” he finally mutters. I roll my eyes, sending Marlie a vision of a dramatic facepalm. I hear her snort in response on the other side of the door.

“Not the point. Now go away.”

“I can’t.” Rolan's voice sounds strained, almost achingly so, “Lia will not give me peace until I fix this.”

“Not my problem.”

I get to my feet with a sigh and open the door of the bedroom I’m taking refuge in. “It’s okay, sis. I’ll at least hear him out.”

“No you won’t.” Marlie's tone is matter of fact, “I’ve got a Silence scroll I've been dying to use, let him say one more rude word...”

“I’d Counterspell it,” Rolan grumbles looking infuriated.

“Really Marlie, it’s fine. I’ll do it for Lia’s sake.” I turn and walk back into the room, Rolan’s quick angry footsteps follow me.

I plop down on one side of the sunken bed and gesture for him to sit on the other. He shakes his head, “This won’t take long.”

“Oh really?” I draw my legs up to sit criss-cross. “Go ahead then, stand there like you're on display.”

He lets out a deep breath between gritted teeth, before coming over to the mattress and perching at the edge of it.

“I…well... I…”

I blink at him, “Yes Rolan, you?”

He visibly gathers himself before responding, humility is very painful for him. "First of all, l apologize. For lashing out at you. Drunkenly, soberly. I should never have yelled…what I did.” He pauses in his intense study of the threadbare coverlet beneath him to look at me. He looks sober and coherent, for the most part. That’s good.

“Great,” I say, “I’m sorry too.”

He cocks his head, surprised. “For what?”

“I should’ve left you alone, after your rescue. I don’t know what I was thinking pushing your buttons like that when emotions were already running so high.”

“Oh,” he pushes his hair back over his horns, “my rescue, yes…it seems I owe you and your sister a great deal…” he’s not bothering to cover his ears with his hair today. They’re surprisingly delicate, almost elf-like. Cute.

“Look, as much fun as this is Rolan, just tell Lia we’re good, okay?” I reach out to pat his back, but think better of it half way there. “Tell her you groveled and all is forgiven.”

“You don’t understand,” Rolan turns his body to face me, “she wants me to DO something for you.”

I make a face, “Like what? Why?”

“You're very dear to her and, damn it, after all she's been through it's the least I can do." He turns away from me again, now addressing the far wall of the bedroom. "She suggested, perhaps, a magic lesson.”

I laugh out loud, he turns a darker shade of red but I ignore it. “Thanks, but that would be a waste of time. I’ve already had a "moment of magic" with your so-called Weave, it didn't go well. I think Mystra hates me.”

He scoffs and regards me with a golden eye, “I could almost believe that. But perhaps you simply had a terrible teacher.”

“I didn’t.”

“Obviously you did, if they failed to impart so simple a concept.”

“Rude, Rolan.”

He takes a deep deep breath and then in one smooth motion kneels down on the floor next to the bed. “Sasha."

I frown at him, what is he playing at?

He looks almost sincere, and pained, as he fixes that golden stare on my face. "Please, allow me to attempt this so that I can appease my recently kidnapped sister.”

“Get up, Rolan.”

“Zurgan, must you be so willfull?"

"Don't you Infernal at me! I don't WANT anything from you. You and I have done enough harm to each other."

He does not move, only glares at me, his tail flicking behind him in obvious irritation.

I look up at the ceiling, this has been such a long day. "Can you please just leave?'

"Not until you agree!” He punctuates this with a loud thump from his tail on the bed. I jump a little and we both look startled.

“Don’t go breaking your tail, now.” I snicker at my own joke, if only to keep the tears at bay. It works. "Fine. I'll agree to this, but just know I'm doing this for Lia, not for you."

“As am I,” he says standing up and brushing off his knees, “ Very well. Come over here.”

“What, right now?”

“Yes!” He looks like he wants to throttle me, I know how he feels.

As I move over to his side of the room he casts something that closes both the door and the window. “To minimize distractions.” He explains brusquely when I raise my eyebrows at him.

He holds out a clawed hand, I take it hesitantly. His grip is delicate but firm. “Wow, you’re really warm.”

He clears his throat, “Yes. Now focus. I will be the conduit…” his further explanation is straight forward only slightly varied from what I remember with Gale. He doesn’t require that I do any hand motions but is still very insistent that I get the verbal component correct. Since this is where I dropped the ball last time, my stomach clenches and I hesitate. He makes a motion with his head as if prompting me. I open my mouth, and I feel all the air leave my lungs in a rush, as if there’s a force emanating from Rolan that propels the words from my gut and out into the universe.

I stare at him wide eyed as an image consumes my mind, a bit like the tadpole connection.

I see myself naked and sweating, breasts bouncing, body writhing. My face is contorted with ecstasy as a horned person buries their sharp incisors into the soft flesh below my collar bone. I cry out as I feel their ridged member sliding in and out of my womanhood. Claws dig into my hips, grinding greedily with need. “Yes! Yes!” I scream, almost weeping with the intensity of it, I’m so close, so close to something. A hot wet mouth closes down over mine and the metallic taste of blood dances on our tongues. I open my eyes and it’s Rolan’s face above me, loving me. Fucking me.

I sit down hard upon the wooden floor. The air is knocked out of me, I see spots and I’m reeling.

“What…what…” it’s Rolan’s voice, he sounds breathless, he’s lying flat on his back, “what the FUCK was that?” He manages finally.

“I don’t- are you alright?” I try to crawl over to him but my legs feel weak. My core is throbbing almost painfully and I feel very…damp.

Something grips me, I look down and see Rolan’s tail is wrapped around my calf. I can feel the ridges pressing into my skin. “Ah, Rolan… would you please…”

I turn back to him and his face is inches from mine, his eyes are almost black, the pupils blown wide. “Is that what you want?” He licks his lips, “why would you show me that?”

“I-I didn’t." My heart is pounding, but I don't move away. "I don’t know what happened.”

“Liar.” He breathes, flashing his fangs. The kiss is messy, hungry, passionate. Heat radiates from every part of him. His hands are on my back, cupping my hips, caressing my breasts.

“Gods below-” my nipples harden beneath his ministrations and heat blossoms in me. His hair tickles my face and as I reach up to smooth it back my fingers brush the ringed base of his horns. He growls in response, pressing me down, climbing on top of me. He tastes like fire and spiced wine, he smells intoxicating, faintly of rose water.

Rose water, I've smelled that before, yes last time I worked the Weave with Gale...

I moan into his mouth, trying desperately to speak between deep kisses, “R-rolan...wait, ah-…”

I gasp as he drags his sharp teeth down the curve of my neck. Clawed fingertips graze over my skin beneath my blouse. His knees are between my thighs and I vaguely wonder if he can feel my desire.

“How dare you,” he mutters against me, "...maddening." He sounds absolutely ragged as his lips trace the line of my jaw, his hot breath burning.

I tug at his hair and our lips crash together again. His mouth is perfect, I whimper as his tongue sweeps against mine. I want more…I want it all…

And then he’s getting to his feet, adjusting his robes. I feel a strong pull as he moves away, his tail is still wrapped around me. He lets out an infernal curse, jerking it after him with his hand. The door shuts firmly behind him.

I slowly raise up onto my elbows and make my way to the bed. My hair has come undone, messy curls tumbling around my shoulders and into my eyes. As I go to gather it back, I notice a couple of scratches on the hand Rolan was holding.

Fuck.

I rub a finger on my tender lips.

What just happened? Was it the Weave, the magic? Or was that vision Rolan’s doing? Was it mine?

Marlie comes in after a couple of minutes, the sounds of chatter behind her increase as she opens the door. “You all right?”

“Yes,” I reply, I clear my throat, “I think he and I are okay now.”

“Oh good.”

“Yeah.”