#where are your manners gale?

[wiseoldmage]

Elminster, contrary to the younger mage, almost *never* held to a routine. This land was a strange one, a new one, full of people and places that astounded and confused! Sure, he'd need to take many breaks to relieve his weary bones, but what was life if not constantly taking in the new and the unnatural? Speaking of unnatural, his emotions were anything but natural when he laid eyes on Gale of Waterdeep. Of course he was always pleased to see someone from his home realm, and even more delighted when that person was someone else so tethered to Mystra and her Weave. Yet, he needed to be practical- Mystra had not asked Elminster to materialize and speak to Gale only to regale stories and share bread, but to alleviate him of the stress of the catastrophic bomb buried within him... and now he was here. "My boy," El said as he wandered over, "You're looking fit as a fiddle in this orchestra of madness!" He no longer had a weathered staff to keep him boosted up with, but rather a simple cane, likely purchased from one of the many storefronts around. "I will temper your questions now, many as you have, and attempt to put the pieces of our situation together. The person you see before you is none other than the Sage of Shadowdale himself- no machinations are at play." "Now, it appears that even here, out in this land of endless stars and mystery, you have forgotten the lessons of conversation that we so plainly established with your earlier party! While I see that you have gifted the pavement with your drink, I am personally rather peckish- perhaps I can share what I know over a nice slice of bread with a bit of jam over it- I recently read the most interesting recipe concerning peanut butter, and a 'marshed mallow'..."

@wiseoldmage

GALE DROPS HIS COFFEE ENTIRELY WHEN HE SEES HIM.

He's grown quite fond of the streets of the Archimedes Ward, and of course as a man of particular ( and distinguished, naturally ) tastes it's only taken a few short weeks to consider himself rather qualified in the way of picking out the best of the area's many cafes. It's not quite a daily routine, but certainly routine enough, walking himself down in the mornings to sit with a book and think. His housing can feel crowded at times. It's nice to step out. Things are relatively quiet, early enough in the day.

And as the morning carries on, the streets wake up. The din of the crowd and the hustle of footsteps is soothing background noise, too, in its own way. Reminds him so terribly much of Waterdeep. And Gale is content with people-watching— to a point, of course, because the moment that bearded visage appears in his peripheral vision he leaps to his feet so suddenly that the mug slips from his hands and shatters.

"Elminster?"

He steps over the remains of the coffee cup, stunned, and wastes no time in shouldering through the crowd to get to him. Of all the people to see here - familiar faces, even, as more and more of them seem to appear - he never expected—

"How are you here? Why are you here?" The question is on the tip of his tongue - did Mystra send you? Is he here to fetch Gale? He very much doubts she would extend him that much of an olive branch, but then she did give him orders last time he and Elminster spoke ( it feels not very long ago at all ) and might be a little miffed that Gale is here, now, and therefore unable to carry them out. The wizard squints a little, leaning forward. Elminster is very good at what he does, but to one with enough experience there are some tells to every spell. The smell of the Weave, if nothing else. "Either you're getting sloppy or this isn't another simulacrum."

[yanderedrabbles]

The North Wind & His Bride

The North Wind was the coldest and cruelest of winds. So when a man came to your father's door claiming to be him and asking for your hand, your father was quick to turn him away.

"My daughter is too bright and too kind to be wasted on the worst of the winds. Come back once you learn to carry spring on your breath instead of snow."

And all that night the wind whispered down your chimney. You dreamt strange dreams - of the colours found only at the edge of the world, of snow flurries and seas black as night.

The man returned the next day. And your father once again refused him. "Come back when you can grant succor to the poor and the pitiful and not freeze them where they sleep."

That night, the wind keened even higher and rattled the window shutters. You dreamt of a wedding dress with frost for lace and a ring the gold of sunrise on snow. When you woke, your ring finger was cold as ice.

The man did not come again that day and you huddled close to the fire, rubbing warmth back into your bones. Your father paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the wind.

That night, the air laid still as in a coffin and you slept the black sleep of the drowned. You woke in time to see the first snow of the year, two months too early.

Your father's crops froze in the ground or rotted with the thaw. He paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the creditors.

When next your suitor came, your father's good manners had been worn down by debt collectors and bank notes. He snapped at the wind like a thing cornered. "Come back when you can guide ships safe to port and not wreck them on icy shores."

That night, a blizzard blew in from the north and any creature not crouched by the fire or huddled indoors was found frozen solid. You dreamt again, of a man with cold hands and even colder eyes who danced with you under foreign stars.

Your suitor did not come again but terrible news did. Your brother's ship was wrecked by a storm high on the winter coast. All souls were lost.

Through your grief, a terrible anger began to grow.

When next your suitor came, you greeted him at the door. He had a face as finely chiseled as an ice sculpture and eyes the deep black of the hinterland sea.

"If you would have me as your bride, then I will have a dowry from you."

He took your hand in his and his touch chilled you worse than a corpse's would. He looked at you with a hunger born out of winter and scarcity and cold.

"Anything. Ask anything of me and you can have it."

All through your brother's funeral you thought of ways to avenge him. And now you asked the North Wind for the one thing you thought he could never obtain.

"In a kingdom far south of here, where the snow never falls and the winter never comes, there is a jewel carved from the sun God's bones. Bring me that as a wedding band and I will be your bride."

You thought he would flinch or ask you to reconsider. Instead he bowed and kissed your hand and said he would soon return.

You felt your hope slipping, but he did not return the next day. Or the day after that. The end of autumn came without snow or gales or the return of your suitor. Slowly, you began to breathe again. Began to heal from your brother's death. Began to dream of summer and love and fresh fruit bursting between your teeth.

The winter equinox dawned with clear skies. There was to be feasting that night, and dancing. You dressed your hair with silver chains and sweetened your lips with winter berries. When the music started, one young man after another swept you into his arms and spun you around the bonfire. You tilted your head back and laughed and flirted and forgot all about your suitor.

Near midnight, the wind started to blow. The fire hissed as snowflakes drifted down from suddenly cloudy skies. Your dance partner caught one on his glove and offered it to you. Daring and high on the thrill of dancing, you licked it off his finger. "Tastes of winter in storm," you teased and when he took you for another dance, you wondered if you'd caught yourself a husband.

He spun you around but the arms that caught you were icy cold even through the fine velvet of the wearer's suit.

Midnight tolled and you looked up into the eyes of the North Wind.

He pulled your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against your skin. At his touch, even the bonfire at your back seemed to lose its warmth.

"The journey south was wrecked with danger and the sun almost melted me clean away, but I have brought your dowry."

Before you could pull away, he slipped a ring onto your finger. It was the gold of fire and sunset and desert sand, and it's warmth spread through you.

The snow turned into a blizzard but you didn't notice it. The wind outside the safety of his arms was sharp as stinging nettles and the townsfolk called to each other in panic, barely able to keep their torches from blowing out.

The North Wind kissed your cheek, eyes glimmering with triumph.

"You're mine now. My spring bride, my dearest love."

All your dreams of a sweet summer love melted. When the snow finally settled, you were no longer in the town square but in a throne room at the edge of the world. Green and blue lights danced in the sky and shone through the palace ceiling, bathed your new husband in all the colours of his kingdom.

He leaned forward and claimed his first kiss.

When you pulled away and tried to step out of his embrace, he tightened his grip and his smile both.

"You are my wife now," he explained in a voice as comforting as frostbite, "And a wife cannot refuse her husband's love."

Your sun ring was the only spot of warmth on your body and you clung desperately to the anchor it offered.

"I would not refuse you, husband of mine. But I am the daughter and the sister of common men and there are traditions to uphold before I can climb into your wedding bed."

"What more must I do to have you?"

What would he be unable to do, here at the end of the world?

"Build me a fire that burns all day and all night on one stick of wood and you can have me as promised."

"These are strange traditions you have, wife of mine. But I have come this far to have you, and I will go further yet."

He left you with a flurry of snow and the hissing shriek of a gale. When he was gone, you paced the throne room from one end to the other and could not find a door. Everything about the room was as stark and cold as he.

Exhausted and chilled, you sat at the foot of his throne. What terrible thing did you do to earn the love of the North Wind? You wiped away your tears and then jumped at the hissing sound they made when they touched your ring. Like water spilled on coals.

"You've melted his heart," your ring hissed. "And he cannot afford to let you go."

You stared at your hand. Eventually you found your voice and the strength to ask, "How do I escape him?"

"Trick him. His heart holds all his power. If you have it, you can ride the wind far from here. He was once a man and still might be tempted into a deal."

The ring was silent after that and you waited for your husband's return with bated breath. It was dawn when he came to you, a branch slung over his shoulder. It was of a dry, white wood that you didn't recognise.

There were no fireplaces in the North Wind's palace and so he laid the branch at your feet before he lit it. It caught with a harsh crackle and fire spread across it in a greenish haze. You stretched your fingers out to feel the heat and even the meagre warmth of it was a comfort.

But that comfort turned to a slow dawning horror when you realised the branch wasn't turning to ash. The fire ate at it but the wood refused to darken.

"It's a branch from Death's own orchard," your husband said proudly. "It can burn for eternity and never go out."

"Well done," you said, even though your lips were numb from panic. "But we must watch it burn for the full day and night or else our marriage cannot be consummated."

He sat down beside you and curled his arm around your waist. "It is an easy task to watch this fire, wife of mine. When I grow tired, I need only think of the reward that awaits me."

For a whole day and night, the North Wind held you his arms and watched the fire burn. When Dawn's light touched his palace again, he kissed your shoulder and then your neck and then your lips. He sighed with a deep contentment.

"At last I will have you."

With each kiss, you felt yourself grow colder. With each caress, the binding ties of marriage grew tighter. All night you thought of a trade to offer him and now you said it aloud.

"Husband of mine, I will come willingly to your bed and serve willingly as your wife. But I would ask you first for a boon."

"Ask, wife of mine. If it is mine to grant, then I shall grant it."

You slipped off his lap and turned to look at him.

"I would have your heart."

The North Wind sighed and miles away, a gale began to form. "You already have it."

"So have said countless suitors over countless years to countless girls. And still they were unfaithful, unkind. If your love ever turns away from me, I will be stuck here at the end of world with naught but sea bears and ice hounds to comfort me."

The North Wind sat on his throne and regarded you with eyes old as the mountains. In his own hall, in his own country, he did not seem like a man who could easily be tricked. Still, you tried. You let your hands drift across his cheeks and up his thighs, let his skin bask in the warmth of your touch.

"Grant me this, husband. And I will be yours for eternity."

Was it lust or love that made him hand you a knife and bid you cut out his heart? He guided your hand to the tender spot between his ribs and the bare skin of his chest almost made your reconsider.

The blade was carved out of whalebone and moonlight and he was bleeding before you even pressed down. You thought of your brother, drowned in the ice so far from home and found the strength to slice into him.

The blood that welled up from his chest was thick and black as oil. Where it touched your skin, hoatfrost bloomed.

He didn't seem to feel any pain - he only pulled you higher up his lap and watched the guilt and horror flicker across your face.

When the cut was deep enough, you pushed your hand into his chest and felt for his heart. His organs were colder even than his skin and it felt like you'd sunk your hands into snow.

The beating of his heart mirrored yours and when you finally grabbed it, the thrumming of his blood sounded just like your own.

You held the North Wind's heart in your hand and pulled it from his chest.

All at once, in all the countless winter kingdoms, the wind stopped howling and the snow grew still.

His heart was the size of your palm and oozed icy blood over your fingers. It was so cold that at first you didn't realise the numbness in your hand was spreading. It crawled up your arm like a burning frost and locked your bones in place.

You couldn't drop his heart even if you tried.

The North Wind looked at you with an indulgent, amused smile. And when the ice reached your heart he leaned up and kissed you.

He kissed you and for once his lips felt warm, felt human. Dimly, you realised it wasn't him who was getting warmer, it was you who was freezing over. Becoming a thing of ice and hunger as he was.

"Now you need never fear I will abandon you." The North Wind ran his hands up your sides and warmth bloomed in his wake.

"Now you can control the wind as I do and ride it to the furthest reaches of the world. You can swim with the sea bears and dance with the witches."

You looked down and realised his heart was almost gone, melted into your bones and blood.

He kissed you again. "My love, you are as free as the wind."

It wasn't until then that you realised the cost of freedom. The cost of having the North Wind's heart. And when he drew you up in his arms and lead you to your wedding bed, you were too cold to turn him away.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Mating Season

Halsin x Female Reader | sexual frustration | sexual tension | growly bear halsin | totally adoring halsin | horny bear mating instincts | semi-shifted sex | fluff | smut | nsfw

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body. 

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. 

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his. 

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves. 

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash. 

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar. 

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water. 

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration. 

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day. 

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner. 

Ah. 

That kind of frustration. 

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came. 

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves. 

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’ 

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.  

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes. 

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another. 

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents. 

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend. 

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together. 

Is he glaring at you? 

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin. 

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him. 

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you. 

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose. 

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod. 

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains. 

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you. 

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it. 

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly. 

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours. 

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone. 

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’ 

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good. 

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure. 

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’ 

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago. 

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him. 

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him. 

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly. 

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg. 

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you. 

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock. 

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ 

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’ 

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax. 

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs. 

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently. 

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze. 

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now. 

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy. 

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss. 

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again. 

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. 

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods. 

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading. 

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness. 

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?  

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods. 

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both. 

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water. 

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him. 

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters. 

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face. 

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please. 

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’ 

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’ 

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him. 

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass. 

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue. 

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down. 

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily. 

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax. 

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him. 

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating. 

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass. 

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast. 

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him. 

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you. 

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go. 

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length. 

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you. 

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’ 

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again. 

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this. 

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him. 

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you. 

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out. 

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’  

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration. 

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often. 

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver. 

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains. 

[winter-wise]

Truly Wyll is the only companion you could bring home to your parents.

What kinds of things does Karlach enjoy? Killing.

What does Lae'zel enjoy? Killing.

What does Astarion enjoy? Also killing.

Where does Halsin live? The woods

What does Shadowheart do? At a loose end after leaving her cult.

What was it like when you first met Gale? He was kind of depressed because his ex dumped him after he accidentally got a bomb in his chest.

Does Minthara ever cook for you? She puts poison in my food so I can build up an immunity, so I won't die if we ever visit her hometown.

Meanwhile Wyll is there with his public service job and flawless table manners.

[moonselune]

Hello! Hope all is well with you! I've been enjoying the sillier prompts lately and have been wondering for a while now about the companions' reactions to a wild-magic sorcerer Tav accidentally turning themselves into a potted plant, as can happen in actual dnd. This might be in combat, out of combat, or when no one's around to see until they realize Tav is missing and there's a new, Tav-sized plant at camp. Thanks for considering!

Ahahahaha I didn't know this because fun fact I have never played as a wild-magic sorcerer, the more you know

Karlach:

The chaos of battle still hung thick in the air: the acrid tang of ozone from lightning spells, the metallic bite of blood, and the charred aroma of scorched earth. Karlach stood amidst the wreckage, her infernal engine humming faintly as the adrenaline of combat began to ebb. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned to look for you, her fiery grin ready to celebrate another victory with her partner.

Only, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” she called, her voice carrying over the clatter of armor and groans of the fallen. She scanned the battlefield, her sharp eyes darting between the bodies of your enemies. Her smile faltered. “Where the hells are you?”

It wasn’t like you to wander off mid-battle, even with the unpredictable nature of your wild magic. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, and she began to search, calling your name louder now.

Her gaze finally fell on a peculiar sight near the edge of the clearing—a potted plant. It was vibrant and oddly you-sized, perched precariously on the remnants of a crumbled wall. Karlach’s brows furrowed, her hands on her hips as she stared at it.

“What the…?” she muttered, stepping closer. There was something strangely familiar about the plant. Its broad leaves almost seemed to droop in a manner reminiscent of your slouch when you were feeling bashful, and the faint glow of magic that lingered around it screamed wild surge.

Her eyes widened as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “No way. No way.”

Dropping to a crouch in front of the plant, she inspected it closer.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered, reaching out to touch one of the leaves gently. It was warm, and she swore she could feel your presence within it. “Babe, is that you?”

The plant didn’t respond, of course, but Karlach groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she lamented, her voice muffled. “You go and turn yourself into a bloody plant? In the middle of a fight?”

She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the rest of the group was still occupied. No one had noticed your absence yet, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle the jokes from Astarion or the endless concern from Gale right now. This was between you and her, dammit.

Sighing, she scooped the pot into her arms, holding it like she would hold you.

“Alright, love,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “Let’s get you back to camp and figure out how to fix this, yeah?”

The trek back was… awkward. Karlach tried to hold the pot steady while simultaneously glancing around to ensure no one saw her cradling a plant like it was her most prized possession. She muttered under her breath as she went, half scolding you and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Of all the things you could’ve turned into,” she grumbled. “Why not something cool, like a dragon? Or even a chair! I could’ve used you for a rest at least.” She looked down at the plant with a rueful grin. “But no, you had to go and be adorable even as a damn fern.”

By the time she reached camp, the rest of the party had begun to notice your absence. Shadowheart raised a questioning eyebrow as Karlach marched straight to your tent, the plant held tightly in her arms.

“Where’s—” Shadowheart began, but Karlach cut her off with a gruff, “Don’t ask,” before disappearing inside.

Once safely tucked away in the privacy of your shared space, Karlach set the pot down gently and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Okay, love,” she said, her tone serious now. “I’m not exactly a magic expert, so I’m guessing this’ll wear off on its own, yeah? Just, uh… shake a leaf or something if I’m right.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Figures. You’d turn yourself into something that can’t talk back.” She reached out to stroke one of your leaves again, her touch tender. “I just hope you’re okay in there. You’re not, like, panicking, are you? ‘Cause I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.”

The hours ticked by, and Karlach stayed by your side, talking to you about everything and nothing. She recounted old stories of her time in Avernus, described the way the campfire crackled just outside, and even hummed a few bars of a tune you loved. She refused to leave, determined to be there the moment you returned to your usual self.

When the magic finally dissipated, it was abrupt. One moment, she was staring at the plant, and the next, you were sitting on the floor in front of her, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed. Karlach blinked, then burst into relieved laughter.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you in a rib-crushing hug before you could even fully process what had happened. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear?”

You groaned, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly intentional,” you muttered, but the warmth in her embrace made it hard to feel anything but gratitude.

Karlach pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her grin brighter than the campfire.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft. “Even if you do have a habit of turning into houseplants.”

You chuckled weakly, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to aim for something cooler next time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Karlach said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But for now, you’re staying right here. No more wild magic shenanigans until I’m convinced you won’t turn into a cactus or something.”

Minthara:

The camp was eerily quiet when Minthara returned from scouting the perimeter, her steps as measured and deliberate as ever. She had left you behind, trusting that whatever magical experiment had your attention at the moment was at least minimally controlled. You had assured her you would remain safe.

But as she entered the camp, her sharp eyes immediately swept the area—and you were nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at her lips, irritation brimming beneath her calm exterior.

“My love?” she called out, her voice low but commanding. There was no reply, only the faint rustling of wind through the trees.

Something was wrong.

Minthara’s grip on her weapon tightened instinctively as she strode toward your usual spot near the campfire. Her keen senses caught the faint trace of magic lingering in the air—chaotic, unpredictable magic. It clung to the clearing like a haze, setting her teeth on edge.

And then she saw it.

A potted plant, sitting innocently in the middle of camp. It was a strikingly odd sight—vibrant, lush, and entirely out of place. Minthara’s frown deepened as she approached, her eyes narrowing. Something about it felt… familiar. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing one of the broad, leafy fronds.

Her instincts screamed at her, the strange magic and the peculiar timing sparking a suspicion she couldn’t shake.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. "Surely not."

She circled the pot, scrutinizing it from every angle, her sharp mind piecing together what must have happened. The chaotic magic. Your absence. The plant’s unnerving resemblance to your height, even its oddly charming tilt to one side.

“By the Underdark” she growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve turned yourself into a gods-damned plant.”

Minthara rose to her full height, her expression a mixture of exasperation and begrudging amusement. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering to herself in clipped Drow. This wasn’t her first encounter with wild magic’s unpredictability, but seeing you reduced to foliage tested even her patience.

Finally, she stopped, crossing her arms as she glared down at the plant.

“You’d best hope this is reversible,” she said, her tone sharp but carrying a strange undercurrent of affection. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to carry you into battle as a decorative shrub.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

Minthara sighed deeply, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor. She crouched down again, this time with a softer touch, her fingers trailing over the edge of the pot.

“You do realize how much you worry me?” she murmured, her voice quiet now. “Vanishing without warning, leaving me to find… this.” Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you, even when you’re at your most absurd.”

She lingered there for a moment, her crimson eyes studying the plant as though willing you to transform back through sheer force of will. Her mind raced with possible solutions—waiting for the magic to dissipate, seeking assistance from one of the more magically inclined companions, or even attempting to force the issue with a spell of her own. But none of those options sat well with her; the thought of leaving you in this state for even a moment longer than necessary gnawed at her resolve.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the chaotic magic finally began to wane. A sudden burst of energy rippled through the air, and in an instant, the plant vanished—replaced by you, sitting awkwardly on the ground with wide eyes and a dazed expression.

“Minthara?” you said weakly, blinking up at her.

Her expression was unreadable as she loomed over you, her arms crossed once more. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the weight of her presence—and her silence—sink in. Then, with a sharp exhale, she extended a hand to help you up.

“You are a constant test of my patience,” she said, her tone icy but her touch firm and steady as she pulled you to your feet. “And yet, I cannot seem to stay angry with you.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry about that,” you said, glancing at the now-empty spot where the plant had been. “Didn’t mean to… you know. Turn into a houseplant.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but allowed a small smirk to break through her stern façade.

“I suppose it’s a testament to your unique charm,” she said dryly. “Only you could find a way to make even wild magic this ridiculous.”

Her hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she studied you.

“Do try not to disappear on me again,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you by my side… in a form that can actually hold a weapon.”

You chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I’ll do my best.”

Minthara shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “See that you do. Now, come. You owe me a drink to make up for this nonsense.”

She turned sharply, striding toward the campfire with her usual commanding grace. But as you followed, you caught the faintest trace of a smile lingering on her lip.

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest heaving as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. The final enemy had fallen beneath her blade, and the battlefield was silent save for the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. She turned sharply, her yellow eyes scanning the clearing for you, her battle partner and—more recently—her lover.

“Y/N” she barked, her voice firm as always, tinged with the expectation of a swift response. When none came, her brow furrowed. She swept her gaze over the terrain, spotting the bodies of your foes… but no sign of you.

Her grip on her blade tightened as unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where are you?” she muttered, you had a habit of getting into trouble, especially with the erratic nature of your magic. This silence was unsettling.

It was then that her gaze landed on something odd—a potted plant, sitting upright amidst the debris and gore of battle. It was an odd sight, pristine and bright green in stark contrast to the carnage around it. Lae’zel’s frown deepened as she stalked over to it, her boots crunching on the ground. Something about the plant felt… familiar.

She stopped before it, staring down at its leaves. It was unusually large, roughly your height if she imagined it upright. The pot itself bore faint traces of magic that made her lip curl in suspicion.

“Ridiculous,” she growled. And yet, the chaotic nature of your magic whispered a possibility in her mind—a possibility so absurd she dismissed it outright. At first.

Then, she leaned down and poked the plant with her gauntleted finger.

The moment her finger brushed a leaf, a faint magical hum radiated from it, and Lae’zel’s eyes widened. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence: your absence, the lingering magic, and the absurdity of a random plant appearing on a battlefield. She drew back with a look that was half exasperation, half incredulous disbelief.

“You have done this to yourself, haven’t you?” she demanded, glaring at the plant as though it could answer her. “Wild magic,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You reckless fool.”

She straightened, planting her hands on her hips, her blade still dripping with the blood of her enemies. For a moment, she considered leaving you as you were, just long enough to impress upon you the consequences of your chaos. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the frustration that you were not by her side in a form she could lecture properly.

Lae’zel crouched again, this time with a softer expression, though she still scowled.

“If you can hear me, you will fix this yourself,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of hauling a houseplant back to camp.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Ugh.” Lae’zel threw her head back, muttering something sharp and guttural in Gith, likely a curse aimed at the unpredictability of magic. Despite her frustration, she carefully scooped the pot into her arms, grumbling under her breath as she did so. The weight was awkward but manageable.

She began the trek back to camp, her movements brisk and efficient despite the absurd cargo in her arms. Along the way, she muttered a constant stream of words, alternating between irritation and reluctant concern.

“You are fortunate I value you, even when you test my patience,” she said, glancing down at the plant. “Were you anyone else, I would leave you here to rot.”

When she reached camp, the sight of Lae’zel carrying a potted plant drew immediate attention. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Astarion stifled a laugh, and Gale opened his mouth to ask a question—only to receive a sharp glare that silenced him on the spot.

“Not a word,” Lae’zel snapped, setting the plant down beside the fire with a little more force than necessary. She pointed a finger at the pot as if addressing you directly. “You will undo this foolishness. Now.”

By sheer coincidence, the chaotic magic finally dissipated, a sudden burst of energy shook the camp, and you appeared where the plant had been—sitting awkwardly on the ground, blinking in confusion.

“Lae’zel?” you said, your voice tentative. She towered over you, arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

“You turned yourself into a plant,” she stated, her tone flat but laced with unmistakable annoyance.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

Lae’zel stared at you for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet.

“You are an utter fool,” she said, her voice harsh, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. “And you will explain how this happened—after you swear to me it will not happen again.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her intensity, even as you stammered out an apology.

“I’ll try,” you said, earning an unimpressed snort from her.

“‘Try’ is insufficient,” she snapped, but there was no real heat in her words. She studied you for a moment longer before pulling you into a surprisingly firm embrace, her grip strong but steady. “Do not make me worry for you again.”

The rare softness in her voice made your heart swell, and you nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Shadowheart:

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in a soft, dusky glow. Shadowheart returned from gathering water at the nearby stream, her steps light but deliberate as she moved toward the campfire. Dinner was her next priority, and after that, a quiet evening spent in your company. Or so she thought.

As she reached the camp, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks. Sitting near the fire, where she expected to find you lounging or reading, was… a potted plant.

Shadowheart blinked, her brow furrowing. The pot was large, almost comically so, and the plant itself had an odd, almost lively vibrance to it. Its fronds swayed gently in the evening breeze, and its size was distinctly you-shaped.

She set the water down and took a few tentative steps closer, her dark eyes narrowing as she examined the plant. Her fingers brushed one of the leaves, and a faint shimmer of magic danced across its surface. Recognition hit her like a gale-force wind, and she straightened up abruptly, staring at the plant in stunned silence.

And then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet chuckle bubbling up from her chest. But it quickly grew louder, filling the camp as she doubled over, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Oh, gods,” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve done it now, haven’t you?”

She staggered back a step, trying to compose herself, but the sight of the potted plant sitting innocently near the fire broke her resolve. She collapsed onto a nearby log, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

“You—you turned yourself into a plant!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with mirth. “How? Why? What—what were you even doing?”

The plant, of course, did not respond. Its fronds merely swayed as if in agreement, which only made Shadowheart laugh harder. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she managed to say between gasps. “I didn’t think wild magic could be this ridiculous.”

For several minutes, she simply sat there, caught in a loop of laughter and attempts to calm herself. Every time she thought she had control, she’d glance at the plant again, and another wave of giggles would take her.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered to herself, still grinning. “I suppose I should figure out how to fix this before someone else sees you like this.”

But instead of moving immediately to find a solution, she reached out and gently patted the pot, her touch oddly tender.

“You’re lucky I find you endearing,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “Even when you’re… this.”

She sat there for a while longer, her smile lingering as she studied the plant. The absurdity of the situation didn’t erase her fondness; if anything, it deepened it. You were chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly unique, and somehow, she adored every bit of it.

When the magic finally began to fade, the plant shimmered and morphed, and in a flash of light, you were sitting on the ground, blinking up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Uh… hey,” you said awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

Shadowheart burst out laughing again, leaning back on the log as she shook her head.

“Oh, my love,” she said, her voice full of amusement and exasperation. “You never fail to surprise me.”

She stood and offered you her hand, pulling you to your feet with a smirk. “I’ll admit, I was tempted to leave you like that for a while longer. You made a rather charming plant.”

You groaned, your face heating. “Please don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with mock sincerity, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “But you might owe me a favor or two to ensure my silence.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Just promise me you’ll try not to turn yourself into anything else for a while,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. “I’d rather have you by my side.”

You nodded, and Shadowheart’s smirk widened as she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Now, let’s get some dinner before you accidentally polymorph into a roast chicken or something.”

With a laugh, she led you toward the fire, her hand slipping into yours. Even as the evening went on, she couldn’t help but glance at you now and then, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the absurdity of the situation.

Jaheira:

Jaheira had seen many strange and inexplicable things in her long life. She had battled liches, shaped the natural world, and lived through countless adventures that would leave lesser individuals trembling. But when she returned to camp after a morning spent tending to her druidic rituals, she did not expect to find a potted plant sitting conspicuously near the fire, in precisely the spot you usually occupied.

She froze, her keen eyes narrowing as she took in the odd sight. The plant was unusually large and vibrant, its leaves swaying gently despite the still air. Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line as a nagging suspicion bloomed in the back of her mind.

“Beloved?” she called out sharply, her gaze darting around the camp for any sign of you. The woods were silent save for the rustle of leaves, and there was no reply. Her frown deepened as she crouched beside the plant, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. The faint shimmer of residual magic confirmed her worst fear.

“By the gods…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Of course.”

Jaheira sank onto a nearby log, her expression shifting from incredulity to sheer exasperation.

“I leave you alone for one morning,” she said aloud, as if addressing the plant. “One morning, and this is what you manage to accomplish?”

The plant offered no response, its fronds swaying innocently. Jaheira leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded it with a mix of frustration and reluctant fondness.

“Wild magic,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I warned you, did I not? I told you to focus, to keep your chaos in check. But no, of course not. That would be too simple.”

She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“What am I to do with you?” she muttered, shaking her head. “I cannot even lecture you properly in this state.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she studied the plant, her exasperation giving way to quiet concern. Despite her irritation, there was a tenderness in her expression—a deep-seated care that she could never fully mask.

“You are lucky I care for you, you ridiculous creature,” she said softly. “Otherwise, I might have left you here to contemplate your folly for a few days.”

Jaheira stood and began pacing, her sharp mind already working through possible solutions. She muttered to herself as she moved, alternating between frustration and practicality.

“Undoing wild magic,” she said, glancing at the plant. “An unpredictable mess, as always. I ought to leave you for Gale to sort out—he would likely enjoy the challenge. But no, no. This is our problem.”

She stopped pacing and returned to the plant, placing her hands on her hips. “If you can hear me, beloved, know this: when you return to your proper form, you will owe me twice over. For this, and for the worry you’ve caused.”

As if in response, the plant shimmered faintly, and Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps there is still some sense left in you.”

Moments later, the magic dissipated with a faint burst of energy, and you were suddenly sitting on the ground, dazed but otherwise unharmed. You looked up at Jaheira, blinking in confusion as you tried to process what had happened.

“Jaheira?” you said tentatively, your voice hesitant. “What—”

She held up a hand to silence you, her expression equal parts stern and amused.

“Do not speak,” she said firmly. “Not yet. First, you will listen.”

You nodded quickly, sensing the gravity of her tone. Jaheira crouched beside you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You will explain to me, in great detail, what foolishness led to this,” she said. “And you will swear to me that you will exercise more caution in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my beloved,” you said meekly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze softening as she saw the genuine contrition in your expression. With a small sigh, she reached out and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You are fortunate I adore you��� she said quietly, her tone laced with affection despite her stern words. “But you test my patience, beloved. Try not to make a habit of it.”

“I promise to try and not do it more than usual,” you promised with a cheeky smile, earning a faint smile from her.

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. “Now, come. There is work to be done, and I will not allow you to shirk your duties just because you decided to play at being a houseplant.”

You laughed softly, taking her hand and letting her pull you to your feet. As you walked together toward the campfire, Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“A potted plant,” she muttered. “What will you manage next, I wonder? A flock of chickens? A living puddle?”

Despite her exasperation, there was a warmth in her voice that made your heart swell. You knew you were lucky to have her by your side—someone who could scold you one moment and hold you close the next.

Gale:

The sun had dipped low, casting the camp in soft, golden hues as Gale returned from a short stroll. He was humming a soft melody under his breath, a habit when he felt particularly at ease. However, his contentment was short-lived.

As he reached the campfire, he froze. His gaze fell on a peculiar sight: a massive, lush potted plant sitting exactly where you would typically be, its leaves trembling faintly as if caught in an unseen breeze. Gale’s sharp mind immediately pieced together the absurd possibility.

He stepped closer, squinting at the plant.

“My love?” he called tentatively, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

The plant, predictably, gave no reply. Gale knelt down, his hands hovering over the vibrant leaves as his brow furrowed.

“No. Surely not…” He reached out, his fingers brushing the leaves. A faint magical hum tickled his fingertips, confirming his suspicions. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Wild magic… unpredictable as ever. Now what are you today? A ficus?” He tilted his head, examining the pot. “No, perhaps a monstera. Lovely choice, truly.”

His amusement was short-lived, replaced by determination as he straightened his back.

“No matter,” he said firmly. “We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. After all, what is a little magical mishap to someone like me?”

He moved swiftly, summoning his arcane focus. Arcane energy swirled around his fingers as he murmured incantations, his tone confident. A brilliant light enveloped the plant, the air around it crackling with energy. But as quickly as it had begun, the magic dissipated, leaving the plant unchanged.

Gale frowned, his brow furrowing deeper.

“That should have worked.” He muttered another incantation, this one more complex. Again, the air shimmered, and again, nothing happened.

Minutes turned into an hour as Gale tried every spell and counterspell he could think of. Each attempt left him more frustrated, his usually calm demeanor cracking. By the end, he was slumped on the ground beside the plant, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at it with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I thought I could undo this easily, but… I’ve failed you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the rim of the pot. “You must be frightened, or bored, or both. And here I am, a so-called wizard of no small renown, completely stumped.”

As if in response to his heartfelt apology, a faint shimmer enveloped the plant. Gale sat up straight, his eyes wide as the glow grew brighter. With a soft poof, the plant vanished, and there you were, sitting cross-legged on the ground, blinking up at him.

“Gale?” you said groggily, your voice laced with confusion. “What… happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You just… changed back?” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that?”

You nodded, stretching your arms. “Guess it wore off.”

For a moment, Gale was silent, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Then he laughed again, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, darling” he murmured against your hair. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Sorry for the trouble.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he studied you intently.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, his gaze filled with affection. “Just promise me one thing: if you ever feel another surge of wild magic coming on, give me fair warning. I’d like to prepare for the possibility of, say, you turning into a boulder next time.”

You laughed, and he smiled, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering you his hand. “Let’s have some tea. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll manage to go an entire evening without my lover surprising me with botanical transformations.”

His teasing tone made you grin as you took his hand, and together, you walked back to the campfire, the chaos of the day fading into a memory you’d both cherish.

Astarion:

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the camp as Astarion strolled back from his usual evening preparations. His step was light, his crimson eyes bright with their usual mischievous glint, but his mood faltered when he reached the center of camp. You were nowhere to be seen.

He tilted his head, scanning the area.

“Darling?” he called, his voice lilting with curiosity. “Where are you? Surely you haven’t wandered off. I thought we agreed that you’d stay within earshot.”

Silence greeted him, save for the distant rustling of the trees. His lips pressed into a thin line as irritation bubbled to the surface. But just as he was about to set off in search of you, his eyes fell on something strange near the fire—a large potted plant. A frown tugged at his features as he approached, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The plant was tall, lush, and vibrant, and its size was suspiciously… familiar. Astarion crouched beside it, reaching out to touch a leaf. His fingers brushed the frond, and a faint hum of chaotic magic tickled his senses. He froze, realization dawning as his mouth fell open.

“No,” he said flatly, staring at the plant as if it had personally insulted him. “You didn’t.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Oh, for the love of—” Astarion cut himself off, straightening with a sharp sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. I go to sharpen my daggers, and you decide to… become a houseplant.”

He paced around the plant, muttering dramatically to himself. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Hauling around my lover in botanic form. I must admit, this is a new low, even for us.”

Despite his exasperation, there was a thread of affection woven through his words. After all, this was you—his beloved, his partner in chaos. And as much as he wanted to leave you here to stew in your own magic, the thought of someone stumbling upon you while you were vulnerable gnawed at him.

“Well,” he said, planting his hands on his hips, “if you think I’m leaving you here to be stolen by some overly enthusiastic druid or trampled by a stray owlbear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He crouched again, wrapping his arms around the pot.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know,” he grumbled as he hefted it into his arms. He staggered slightly under the weight before finding his balance, his fangs flashing in a sarcastic grin. “Oh, darling, you’re lucky I adore you.”

Thus began one of the most absurd nights of Astarion’s life. With you—now a potted plant—tucked securely in his arms, he set off toward the group’s meeting point, his gait steady but laced with a dramatic air of martyrdom.

“This is humiliating, you know,” he said, glancing down at the plant. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down. ‘Oh, there goes Astarion,’ they’ll say, ‘dragging his decorative lover into battle.’”

When he reached the rest of the group, their reactions were predictably varied. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Gale rubbed his temples, and Karlach burst into loud, raucous laughter.

“What in the Hells happened to Tav?” Karlach asked between laughs, clutching her sides.

“They happened to themselves,” Astarion replied dryly, shifting the pot in his arms. “Wild magic. Again.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Karlach wheezed. “You carrying them around like that!”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t think I’m letting them out of my sight. If they’re going to make a habit of turning into houseplants, they’ll do it under my watch lest they get molested by the local wildlife.”

Despite his snark, Astarion was true to his word. He carried you everywhere that night—through camp, during patrols, and even to his tent when he finally settled down to rest. He set the pot down beside him, adjusting it with care before sprawling out on his bedroll.

“Well, my love,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there. You’re certainly causing me enough trouble.”

He leaned back, his crimson eyes softening as they rested on the plant. “But, as irritating as this is, I suppose it’s… endearing, in its own ridiculous way. Only you could find a way to make this charming.”

As if on cue, a faint shimmer of magic enveloped the plant. Astarion sat up, his eyes narrowing as the light grew brighter. Then, with a soft poof, the plant was gone, and there you were, sitting on the ground, disoriented but whole.

“Astarion?” you murmured, blinking up at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he flopped back onto his bedroll.

“You absolute menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

You chuckled, crawling over to sit beside him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes glinting. “As if I’d ever let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Though next time, darling, do try to keep yourself… human-shaped. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

You laughed, and he sighed, reaching out to pull you close.

“Come here, you absurd, wonderful disaster,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I suppose I’ll just have to love you as you are—potted plants and all.”

Wyll:

The inn was a cozy, bustling place, alive with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation. Wyll, ever the gentleman, had rented a room for the two of you after a long day’s travel. He’d left you in the corner of the common room momentarily, promising to return after he spoke with the innkeeper.

When he came back, you were gone.

His brows furrowed, his gaze darting around the room.

“My love?” he called softly, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear if you were nearby. “Where have you gotten off to?”

No response. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the quieter corners of the room. There, near the hearth, was a potted plant—a lush, green monstera—placed exactly where he had left you. He could have sworn there was only one monestera by the heart but now it seemed to have a friend. He paused, staring at the new plant with suspicion.

It couldn’t be, could it? He took a cautious step closer, noting the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. His heart sank, and he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Wild magic,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the plant. “Of course. You’ve turned yourself into a… rather fetching monstera, I’ll give you that.”

Wyll ran a hand through his hair, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching him talk to a houseplant. He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he whispered, “Love, if that’s really you, don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Scooping the plant into his arms, he carried it upstairs to the room. It was awkward—pottery wasn’t exactly easy to cradle—but Wyll managed, setting the plant down gently on the small table by the window.

“There,” he said, brushing a few flecks of dirt from his gloves. “Safe and sound.”

For the next few hours, Wyll did his best to care for you—or what he thought was you. He watered the plant carefully, ensuring the soil was just moist enough, and even adjusted its position so it could catch the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He pulled up a chair, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke softly.

“I know this must be frustrating,” he said, his deep voice filled with sympathy. “Being stuck like this. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time, I promise.”

He leaned back, arms crossed as he continued his one-sided conversation. “You know, I always did think you had a natural beauty about you—though I must admit, I never imagined it quite so literally.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound warm and gentle.

Downstairs, however, the real you—still in potted plant form—sat abandoned near the hearth. A kind innkeeper had noticed you and moved you closer to the bar, thinking you were just a decorative piece. It wasn’t until Karlach wandered into the inn later that evening that someone finally noticed.

Karlach, who had been looking for both you and Wyll, stopped in her tracks when she spotted the plant. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wait a second,” she muttered, crouching down. Her hand brushed a leaf, and the faint hum of magic confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Grinning, she scooped up the plant with ease and made her way upstairs, throwing open the door to Wyll’s room.

“Oi, Blade of Frontiers!” she called, her voice ringing with amusement. “Care to explain why you’ve been sweet-talking a normal plant while the real Y/N was stuck downstairs?”

Wyll, who had been mid-sentence in his heartfelt monologue to the decoy plant, froze. His eyes darted between the monstera in Karlach’s hands and the one sitting on the table. Realization dawned, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He must have mixed them up when he was thinking about the plants.

“Oh,” he said, standing abruptly. “Oh no.”

Karlach set the real you on the floor with a laugh. “You’ve been flirting with a houseplant, Wyll. I can’t decide if that’s adorable or just plain tragic.”

Wyll let out a groan, running a hand over his face. “I thought I was being attentive! Caring! I—I even watered it.”

“You watered it?” Karlach doubled over with laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Y/N's gonna love this story.”

As if on cue, the magic around you shimmered, and with a soft poof, you were yourself again. You blinked, disoriented, as Wyll dropped to his knees beside you.

“My love!” he exclaimed, relief flooding his face. “You’re back. Thank the gods.”

You looked between him and the monstera on the table, piecing together what had happened. A slow smile spread across your face. “You were… talking to the wrong plant?”

Wyll groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Karlach was still laughing in the corner. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Despite his embarrassment, Wyll reached out to pull you into a tight hug, holding you close.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Even if I made a fool of myself.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thanks for taking care of… well, something,” you teased gently. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression tender.

“Always,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though next time, do me a favor and give me a hint, would you? I’d rather not make a habit of serenading the wrong foliage.”

Karlach let out a snort from the doorway, and the three of you dissolved into laughter.

Halsin:

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Camp had been peaceful for once—no goblin raids, no cursed relics, just the calm embrace of nature. Halsin had stepped away to check the nearby stream for fish, leaving you to experiment with your magic. You’d promised to be careful.

You weren’t careful.

When Halsin returned, carrying a string of freshly caught trout, he immediately noticed something was off. The air around camp felt strange, the energy shifted. His sharp eyes scanned the area for you, but instead of your familiar figure, there was… a potted plant sitting in the middle of camp. A magnificent fern, its leaves vibrant and swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen wind.

He paused, brow furrowing.

“My heart?” he called cautiously, setting the fish down. When no answer came, his gaze settled on the fern. The faint shimmer of wild magic clinging to it made understanding dawn. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he muttered, walking over to crouch by the plant. “Wild magic has claimed you again, my heart.”

He gently brushed a large leaf with his fingertips, marveling at how alive it felt.

“You have excellent taste in flora,” he remarked, his tone warm with amusement. “A fern suits you. Strong, resilient… perhaps a bit mischievous.”

Settling beside the pot, Halsin crossed his legs and rested his elbow on one knee, chin in his hand.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to remind you of the importance of grounding yourself before experimenting with magic,” he mused, though his voice carried no trace of reproach. “Not that you’ll be able to argue with me right now.”

Despite his humor, Halsin’s instinct to care for you took over. He carefully examined the soil, testing its dampness with a practiced hand.

As the evening wore on, Halsin moved you to a sunnier spot, adjusting your position as the light shifted. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, as though you were still in your usual form.

“I’m reminded of a time in the grove,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “We had a druid who accidentally turned herself into a willow sapling. The children tied ribbons to her branches before anyone realized. She was furious—but she did make quite a beautiful tree.”

At one point, a squirrel approached, chittering curiously at the strange new plant in the camp. Halsin waved it off with a soft laugh. “Move along, friend. This one is spoken for.”

By the time dusk began to fall, he had arranged a small circle of stones around your pot, creating a makeshift shrine of sorts. It was a gesture born of care, a way to ensure you were safe and undisturbed.

As the stars began to twinkle above, the shimmer of magic around you intensified. Halsin, ever attuned to such things, noticed immediately. He knelt beside you, watching as the transformation took hold. With a soft poof, you returned to your usual self, sitting cross-legged where the pot had been moments before.

You blinked in disorientation, glancing around before meeting Halsin’s golden-brown eyes. He was smiling, warm and full of quiet amusement.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I turned into a plant again, didn’t I?”

Halsin chuckled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “You did. A particularly lovely fern, if I may say so. I’ve spent the better part of the day tending to you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the circle of stones. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“How could I not? You’re my heart, no matter your form.” He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on your cheek. “Besides, it gave me an excuse to dote on you.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try to keep the wild magic under control next time.”

“Do as you must,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But know that if it happens again, I’ll be here. I’ll always care for you, no matter how many leaves you sprout.”

Managed to get this one out for you all, I am hoping to post a christmas BG3 imagine post thingy at some point, my life is just chaos rn. Thank you all for checking in on me, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[banditthewriter]

Trust - Astarion fic

My first try at writing for Astarion. Here's hoping I don't butcher him! 1.1k words, not edited at all lol

Enjoy!

***

The box was wrapped in a simple brown paper. You tucked it under your arm as you made your way through the crowds of people that filled the square. Gone were the tiny villages that you had stopped at before. Baldur's Gate offered many new opportunities and options, as well as new dangers.

Which was partially why you had the box. It wasn't for you though. It was for Astarion. He had stayed back at the inn, not wanting to be out and about while things with Cazador were unsettled. Especially not after riling up his siblings.

You motioned to the group that you were ready to leave. Gale had an armful of books and scrolls, Shadowheart had a small leather bag with something solid in it, and Karlach had a shiny new ax that she was desperate to try on her old boss's face. Once everyone paid up and gathered their purchases, you all set off back to the inn.

After you stowed your other purchases, you made your way over towards the fire. Astarion sat in one of the plush seats closest to it, his eyes on the flames while a goblet of probably-not-wine sat clutched in one hand. You watched him for a moment before you crossed over to him.

The firelight reflected back in his red eyes as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace. You knew that he was aware of your presence but you also knew he wouldn't address you until he was ready.

Scratch and Scritch, the name Shadowheart had given the owlbear cub, came barreling through and nearly missed his legs. That's what broke the spell the fire held over him.

"What can I do for you, fearless leader?"

You rolled your eyes at his tone. Then, without a word, you held out the box. The plain brown paper didn't give way to anything, but the small bow you had tied with a red lace ribbon showed that it was a gift.

"What's that."

It wasn't a question really, more like a confused statement. You rolled your eyes again and thrust it out closer to him.

"It's called a gift."

Astarion stared at the box for a long moment before he used his free hand to accept it from you. Gently he placed it to balance on his knee before he looked back up at you.

"Why are you giving me a gift?"

You shrugged as your eyes went from his confused facial expression to the box on his knee.

"Because I saw it and thought of you. Does there have to be a reason?"

The silence that followed that question was enough to remind you just who you were dealing with. Astarion didn't trust kindness without purpose. He trusted you, at least you hoped he did, but he still disapproved when you did kind things for others unless there was something to gain from it.

A gift for no reason? Of course he was looking for the catch.

"Just open it Astarion," you urged with a gesture to the box.

He gently placed the goblet down on the table beside his chair. Then he slowly lifted the gift to inspect the wrapping. First he untied the lace ribbon and laid it on the table. Then he found the place where the paper had been tucked and pulled it out slowly.

Either he was careful because that was just his manner or he expected a trap. Either was possible at this point. You had been known to rip gifts open with abandon so this was definitely something to bear witness to.

The paper finally came undone and he let it fall to the floor beside his boots as he looked at the simple wooden box. You didn't rush him, but eagerness made you shift your weight a bit as you waited to see his reaction.

He undid the clasp and lifted the lid. You couldn't see the gift from where you were, but you'd stared at it enough before you forked over a truly jaw dropping amount of gold for it.

With a questioning noise, Astarion lifted the dagger out of the box and held it up. The silver blade shone red and orange from the firelight nearby. Then the hilt had a series of red rubies that seemed to glow.

"Careful, it's sharp," you started, but he interrupted.

"Well of course it's sharp, who buys a dull dagger?"

You knew his sarcasm was hiding his confusion, so you didn't react to that. Instead you pointed to the hilt.

"There's runes inscribed on the hilt, do you see them? The dagger is extremely dangerous to vampires." At his raised eyebrow, you shrugged and looked away towards the fire. "I know you don't trust me yet when I say that I...that we will keep you safe from Cazador. Maybe having that will help you feel a bit more in control. That if any of them try to take you against your will, you have more in your arsenal than just the tadpole. Even if you feel like you can't rely on us, you aren't vulnerable."

A few moments of silence seemed to drag on forever so you glanced over at him. He met your gaze and then shifted to switch out the dagger that was in his boot. You knew that he would wear it on his hip when he was armored, but for now, he kept it close.

"Thank you," he offered lowly as he closed the empty box. "I...have nothing to give you in return."

"A gift doesn't need reciprocity. I just want you to feel safe."

He gave a nod, his eyes drifting down to the box that he held loosely on his lap. With nothing else to say or do, you turned and headed towards towards the few stairs that would lead you to the rest of the room.

His voice called out and made you stop.

"Would you like...to join me? By the fire."

You turned around and smiled. You eased yourself into the chair next to him. He put the box down beside his feet, tucking the wrapping paper beside it as well. Then he picked up his goblet and offered it to you.

You took a quick sip, grateful that it was wine and not blood, and handed it back to him.

"I do believe you when you say you will do whatever it can to keep me from Cazador's grips," he explained quietly, his eyes trailing from your face to the fire. "Whether that will be enough to truly keep me safe is yet to be determined."

"We have the advantage, but we'll face him together."

Astarion's red eyes met yours, the fire lighting behind him to make him look like he was glowing.

"Together."

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

In Vino Veritas (In Wine, There is Truth) - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav (Sorceress/Magic User)

Warnings: FLUFF (the sickeningly sweet kind). Angst. Insecure/Jealous!Astarion. Drunk!Astarion. Soft/Clingy!Astarion. Astarion is in his feelings. Love Confessions. BG3 Spoilers (Early Act I). Mutual Pining. Oblivious!Tav. Honestly kind of Sub!Astarion vibes. Not Proofread!

Wordcount: 2,589

Summary: After seeing you bonding with the other companions, Astarion is in deep with his emotions. This leads to him staggering off to a bar in a nearby town, and you go looking for him as you are worried about him. Once you find him, a confession of love spills from his lips unprompted.

A/N: Can vampires even get drunk? I’m not entirely sure, but that’s what this is about. This wasn’t a request, just something I was interested in writing. I haven’t written Astarion in this way before, but I think I like how it turned out. Thank you guys for all the love on my Astarion fics! I appreciate it immensely. Also, two posts in one day is kind of insane for me. Enjoy!

You weren’t always confident in yourself or your abilities. However, your recent adventures with Lae’zel, Astarion, and Gale have boosted your self-esteem. Gale had even approached you one night rambling about the “weave” and how he wanted you to experience it. You were able to conjure it with favorable ease, however you backed away once he had come onto you. Astarion stood in disgust as he watched the scene unravel. Gale was clearly attracted to you, and clearly wanted in your pants at one point or another. Astarion wouldn’t mind being in your pants either, at one point or another.

Secretly, Astarion envied your naivety, your ability to be fairly oblivious to many people’s advances. Heck, you didn’t even notice Gale’s constant passing glances until he was quite literally leaning in to kiss you, impressed by your ability to conjure the weave with little effort. You turned away nearly instantly, at least once you realized.

You were fairly friendly, which led a lot of suitors to believe that you were interested in them. Gale was no different. The wizard felt that you showed great potential, and he was impressed by your magical abilities. Initially, you believed this to be friendly behavior from Gale, but alas, he felt more for you than that. You had a difficult time turning him down, as you did with most. Gale wasn’t a bad guy, he just – wasn’t for you. Astarion had to spend some time alone after watching you and Gale bond. He felt a pain in his chest while watching the scene.

He was glad to find out that you had rejected Gale, which Gale had let him know (unprompted, of course) one night while out by the fire. Gale was working on his magic, Astarion was reading, and you were sleeping dreadfully well after the long day.

Soon after, you, Lae’zel, Astarion and Gale met Wyll on the way to the grove. You had a battle with the goblins and gained a new ally in Wyll. Unfortunately, Astarion had placed himself right in the midst of the conflict, leading him to take quite the beating. So, when Wyll offered to join the party, you felt it was obvious to have Wyll take his place. Lae’zel and Gale were in moderately good shape afterwards. “Fine,” Astarion spoke merely one word, then turned around in a dejected manner, slumping his way away from the group. When he glanced back, he saw Wyll laughing at something you had said, which caused the pain in his chest to worsen.

Astarion had to walk through a nearby town in order to get back to camp, which is where the mistakes began. He spotted a tavern, which looked acceptable – albeit rundown in comparison to the ones he frequented in Baldur’s Gate. The thought of alcohol to tame his present emotions didn’t seem so terrible. I mean, was he really that replaceable to you? If you were honest, the only reason you sent him away was because of how damaged he looked after battle. Part of you wanted to go with him, or at least offer, but he had walked away too quickly for you to even respond. You probably should have gone after him, instead you turned to your new companion in order to get acquainted.

Your mistake was recognized after you got back to camp last night – because where the hell was Astarion? All of his belongings were still around, but he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t bathing, but perhaps he could be hunting? It seemed fairly abnormal for him to just wander off. It was getting fairly late and Astarion still hadn’t arrived back at camp. You were getting worried.

“Has anyone seen Astarion?” You asked everyone who was still awake. The group shook their heads. You kept telling yourself that he probably just was out hunting. Yet something didn’t feel right.

“I’m worried about him, guys. I sent him back to camp and he’s nowhere to be found.” You commented, with Shadowheart being the first to respond. “It’s Astarion, Tav. It’s not like he’s known to be the most reliable, even in the few days we’ve known him.” Her fondness for you was shining through, and her almost envious tone showed her distain for your anxious thoughts about the pale elf companion.

You decided to backtrack on the path away from camp, the one that Astarion would have taken back, trying to retrace his steps. You hoped that he hadn’t collapsed somewhere, that was absolutely your worst fear. You couldn’t help but worry at the thought of losing Astarion. He had already been through so much - that you were incredibly aware of.

You wandered the dim, moonlit trail, hoping that you would find a sign of him anywhere. You peered through the forest trees, but with little avail. You thought about shouting out to him but thought better of it. You could attract someone – or something, rather, that you’d prefer not to. You decided to keep as quiet as you could.

You crept towards the nearby town. Given that the afternoon had far past, the only open facility was the tavern. It was old, but well-kept given its state. The building itself was made from stone, with a large oak wooden door at its front. It vibrated with livelihood from the activities of indoors. This tavern was likely the sole place in town where folks could go to have a decent time. Through the windows, you spotted various ages and races of people, all joined together in dancing, drinking, chatting, and even singing. You didn’t see Astarion, but you figured that asking surely wouldn’t hurt. Maybe they knew of his whereabouts.

The door creaked open as you entered, revealing the brightly candlelit interior of the tavern. The wood floors were certainly run down, likely from years of wear and tear and dancing upon them. Many eyes fell upon you when you entered. Your footsteps were light, but your presence was different for the townsfolk. You were new. Astarion had felt similarly when he moved into space, but they had become used to his presence by now. Not only that, but he had spent copious amounts of gold on drinks, which was certainly appreciated. You didn’t know that though, not yet.

The townsfolk had accepted your presence within a few moments of entering, with one muttering to another “she’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” before gulping down more beer, then standing up to make a move on you. You were quite oblivious to this situation, moving steadily towards the barkeep, hoping she might be able to tell you of Astarion’s whereabouts, as you moved through the bar and still didn’t take notice of the elf.

“Eh, darlin!” You heard a man grunt at you, but you didn’t want to acknowledge him. The words almost hit your ears in just the right way, the eerie similarity to Astarion’s word choice was uncanny.

As you approached the bar, the barmaid approached you sweetly. She was an older lady with deep raven hair, likely had worked there for a substantial portion of time, perhaps even being the owner of the place. “Hi, dear. What can I get goin’ for you?” She inquired with a courteous smile. “Nothing quite yet for me. I’m looking for my friend, he’s an elf with white hair, he probably would have passed by here several hours ago.”

“Aw! You must be Tav! He wouldn’t stop rambling about you while he was here. I think he slumped over to the bathroom, we tried to sober him up, but he was lookin’ pretty sick.” The barkeep gestured to the doors in the corner, and you nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”

You pushed your way through the patrons in order to place several knocks on the only closed door. “Astarion?” You raised your voice to ensure that he heard you over the music that boasted in the background. You leaned your head against the door, hoping to hear a response from him. You nearly fell as suddenly the door was replaced with air, and a stumbling Astarion approached you. “Darling!” He exclaimed. This new, puppy-like energy contrasted with his always stoic exterior. You went to scold him, about to go off about his selfishness in abandoning camp like that, but before you could, his rambling continued.

“Goodness, you look phenomenal. I can hardly take it.” You looked at him, creases forming on your face as your mind became more puzzled. Astarion was typically a flirty person, but this was different. For some reason, it seemed – sincere?

“Astarion, what are you doing here?”

“Well I got sad, so I decided to have a few – um – drinks.” His words slurred as they exited his lips, which did not promote truth in his sentence. “A few?” He nodded eagerly in response, and you grabbed at the fabric near his shoulder in order to tug him over to the bar. “Do you know how many drinks he’s had?” You asked the barmaid, hoping she could provide some insight. “In the double digits, certainly. Spent most of his time downing drinks and talking about your ‘delectability.’”

She responded as you took a deep breath. Astarion, who was lent up against your shoulder now, and could hardly maintain composure, brought an index finger to usher the woman quiet, pressing it against her lips. “SHHHH.” He spoke loudly, before she removed his finger in a swift motion. Astarion leant towards your ear, whispering “she’s just talking about how it’s more noticeable that I’m in love with you when I’m tipsy.” Your eyes shot open for the first time in hours. You had maintained heavy lids since post battle; however you hadn’t heard anything this shocking in weeks. You couldn’t help the way that your cheeks now sprouted a flushed, pink hue.

“You somehow get even cuter when you blush.” Astarion spoke, and you placed your head in your hands, which Astarion immediately tried to pull away “don’t, please, you’re so pretty.” You almost rolled your eyes, what if this was all some strange dream? Don’t get you wrong, there were many nights that you dreamt of the day that Astarion would approach you in this way, you just – didn’t think it would happen. You finally released your face from your hands and looked at the barmaid. “We’ll be leaving now, thank you.” You grabbed on to Astarion once more, tugging him towards the large oak door at the entrance.

“Someone’s in trouble!” One of the men shouted from across the bar at the scene. “I hope so!” Astarion shouted back, and you tugged him harder.

As the overwhelm was diluted by the calm of the outdoors, and your faces were hit by the cool air, you turned to face him.

“Astarion, what the hells is going on?” Your question was slightly louder than intended, especially since you had to raise your voice to be heard inside of the bar.

Immediately, you were faced with a pout on Astarion’s lips and dilated pupils as he gazed at you. “Please don’t be mad, darling.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay.” You responded, your features softening, which comforted him.

“I just-“ he stammered, having a difficult time finding the words. He looked back to you, seeing how patient you were, and he relaxed, with help from the alcohol that still coursed steadily through him. “you’re perfect.” For the second time tonight, your eyes widened like craters. You were nearly at a loss for words, but as you went to speak, Astarion interrupted you.

“Gods, Tav! Gale is entranced by you, Shadowheart has definitely caught feelings, Lae’zel wants you to give her bruises, and did you see the way that Wyll looked at you today?” He inquired, and you meagerly shook your head. “Not to mention I’m fucking in love with you! And I can’t even show it! I haven’t felt this way, like, ever, with anyone! And I’m fucking terrified, Tav!”

He gesticulated harshly as he spoke, his pent-up energy finally releasing. You moved towards him, holding your arms out, almost as an offering to him. He looked at you with soft eyes, then headed towards you himself, wrapping his arms around your waist, as yours fell across his shoulders. He relaxed into your touch, leaning his face to nuzzle in your neck. “Please don’t let me go.” Astarion pleaded.

“I won’t, Star.” You whispered into his ear, and you could feel him sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry I was jealous and upset.”

“Don’t be sorry for feeling the way you do, Astarion.” These words nearly brought a drunken Astarion to tears, but he was able to focus on the way you felt in his arms instead. You were able to convince him to cease the hug in order to walk back to camp, but he insisted that he needed to have a hand on you at all times to be assured that “you wouldn’t let him go.” So, it ended up with his hand intertwined with yours for the duration of the short journey back, along with him leaning on you to keep steady.

The rest of the companions were awaiting your return to camp and sighed in relief when you arrived. They were slightly surprised to see Astarion lent up against you, with your frame keeping him upright. Shadowheart seemed to roll her eyes in annoyance at the pale elf’s return, but was thankful you were alright, nonetheless. They stayed quiet, as it seemed more like an “ask questions later” type of circumstance. Since they now knew you were safe, they deemed it acceptable to retreat to their own tents for the night.

You teetered Astarion over to his own tent, facing him as he stared at you with puppy dog eyes. “You’ll stay?” He asked, and you looked at him with similar eyes. “Please?” He followed up, and you nodded. “Let’s go to my tent, though. Is that alright?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

You lead Astarion to your – somewhat more put together tent, with a larger bedroll that could fit the both of you situated on the floor. He stared in awe as he admired the colors within, it was actually quite cozy.

You put yourself in bed as normal, while Astarion seemed to stand with a blank look on his face, his eyes traveling from your eyes to the tent, as if this was new to him. “You okay, Astarion?” You asked, and he nodded. “More than okay, actually.” He responded, and you smiled. You reached your arms out, beckoning him towards you “come here, then, sweet boy.” He grinned giddily, nearly diving into your arms.

-

Astarion woke up in the somewhat unfamiliar environment of your tent, with a throbbing headache. However, he realized that he was sprawled across your lap, and decided to be content in the fact that even though he didn’t remember a single thing about last night, he knew that he had wound up in the right place, in the right person’s arms.

You noticed he had woken from the fluttering of his eyelashes on your skin, and you brought your hand to his hair in order to play with it ever so slightly. “Good morning, handsome” you spoke.

“Good morning, darling. What in the hells happened last night?” He responded, turning towards you with a smirk on his face. “Did I get as lucky as I hope I did?” Sober Astarion was back, that was for certain.

[dekariosclan]

Jealous Jellybean Gale

(Gif & screenshots from videos posted by YouTube users _shhennanigans_, ValeEntertainment, and Kimberism)

So, everyone’s favorite flirty Gale dialogue (where Gale says he ‘appreciates your musk’, etc) happens at the Tiefling party if Tav’s already done the Weave scene and started romancing him before the party begins.

But there’s a different dialogue you’ll get at the Tiefling party IF Gale’s approval gets high enough for the Weave scene to occur there, AND Tav flirts with another companion before speaking to him.

I myself have never gotten this because I speed run romancing this man & get the Weave scene ASAP every time like the simp I am. In fact, I’ve only found three videos which show this jealous dialogue because it does seem to be pretty rare.

First, it starts off the same as when Tav approaches him at the party without having flirted with anyone else:

If Tav DIDN’T flirt with anyone else, Gale will tell you to see him later, after the revelry has ended, in more ‘intimate surrounds.’ (This will be the Weave scene that we’re all familiar with.)

But, if Tav successfully flirted with someone else, Gale will know and he will be a SMIDGE JELLY:

And he’ll even throw some personalized shade depending on which companion Tav got cozy with:

Note: I scoured YouTube to see if I could find his comments on Lae’zel, Karlach or Wyll, but I cannot find anything! If anyone knows what he says about them I’d love to hear it.

Regardless, he ends on the same line:

And I have to say that, for as much as I love sweet, kind, romantic Gale and I tend to focus on that aspect of him, I DO appreciate seeing scenes of him being flawed and imperfect and real in his emotions.

Is he being a jerk here? Yes. Is it because he is so down bad for Tav that he’s drowning his sorrows in wine and his tongue has loosened too much? Also yes.

You get a full set of dialogue options to choose from, which all have Gale reacting in a unique, tipsy, but overall sweet manner (especially #5, because that’s what he was hoping Tav would say.)

To see each of his responses, watch the full video below from Kimberism:

Whatever you do—don’t judge him too harshly. After all, if Tav ultimately picks someone else, he respects their choice. But for now, while he still has a chance:

That’s our Gale 💜

[blackjackkent]

@astreamofstars suggested my next dive into the parsed dialogue files should be looking at the various Vicious Mockery lines available for player characters, and the ways the different companion character VAs speak them. This turned out to be quite challenging, as there are a LOT of them!

There are a total of 97 unique Vicious Mockery lines, each of which was recorded by all ten companion character VAs PLUS all twelve custom character VAs, for a total of 2,134 recorded lines, which is wild. (This is not including Ethel's 60 unique Vicious Mockery lines as well, which brings the total to 2,194.)

In this video, I've collected all 97 VM lines across all ten companion VAs, along with notes (where applicable) on things like

references to Shakespeare (or other pieces of media)

places where BG3 continues a time-honored tradition of the series by butchering archaic English grammar

interesting inconsistencies between the VAs or with the written dialogue

(If you notice any references I missed, please let me know and I might edit the video! :D )

In making this video, I ended up listening to all these lines a LOT, and I do love that some definite patterns emerge which are very on-brand for the characters in question.

Astarion often sounds deeply disdainful and at times almost bored. He barrels through some of the lines as if he doesn't think the recipient of his insult is even worth his time. (Also him calling someone a "parchment-pallored villain" is a bit rich, don't you think? :P )

Gale is deeply pleased with his own cleverness and laughs at his own jokes.

In my opinion, Dave Jones by far most Understood The Assignment; Halsin bellows out the lines like a Shakespearean actor playing to the back row and really relishes the language.

Jaheira is in full mother-tiger voice and clearly ready to kick ass and take names; she's not messing around. (With one exception - I have been laughing over Tracy Wiles's reading of "Mouthier than an arse, twice as full o' shite" for the entire duration of this project, because solely for that line she sounds like she's been possessed by some unknown force and is utterly baffled by the words coming out of her own mouth.)

Karlach reads most of these lines as either battle-cry or schoolyard taunt and seems utterly delighted in both cases. I enjoy that she adds a fun roll on her r's to sound all mockingly fancy.

Lae'zel generally sounds like she's about to rip someone's throat out and often seems completely oblivious to the humor involved, even on lines like the delightful pun, "As the leg, you'll end in defeat."

Minsc definitely doesn't know what most of these words mean but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I enjoy that "Mouthier than an arse" becomes "mouthier than a butt" only for him. XD

Minthara, like Lae'zel, is mostly not coming at this from a place of amusement; she's MAD. She sounds like a judge handing down sentence in the most disdainful manner possible. (That said, she has my favorite deliveries on some of the lines with timing-related humor: "Thou art saucy... as gruel," "Thine eyes! Pools of tepid piss," "Like a summer's day... thou art sweaty," etc.)

Shadowheart just sounds deeply offended that her target is existing anywhere near her. She's practically spitting on all her plosive consonants and it's delightful.

Wyll sounds remarkably fierce given how nice a dude he is, but a lot of his lines have some righteous indignation (appropriate for a former noble and the Blade of Frontiers) - or he just sounds like he pities his opponent. His reading of "It vexes me to know of you" is my favorite of the whole cast; he just sounds so disbelieving of his target's stupidity.

Overall I think my favorite of these lines is towards the end: "Your body's a temple - to an idiot god!" All ten companions really stick the landing on that one. :D

Thanks for watching! Hope you enjoy.

(Got requests for other investigations into BG3 dialogue? Drop me an ask and let me know! )

[pheonixgrave]

Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair. 

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating. 

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken. 

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.” 

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it. 

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away. 

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?” 

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?” 

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form. 

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal. 

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again. 

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her. 

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy.  She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.” 

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read. 

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck. 

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him. 

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense. 

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception. 

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him. 

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves. 

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her. 

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him. 

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit. 

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly. 

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation. 

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap. 

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined. 

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips.  She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.” 

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse. 

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought. 

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet. 

She was his. And he was equally hers. 

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other. 

“Did you see who was in the bushes?” 

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

[meanbossart]

(sorry if this is common knowledge, I'm still relatively new here) have you ever played with a different tag/durge or is du drow your one and only?

I hope this isn't weird to admit, but - out of 5 runs of this game (not all completed, but the non-complete ones have reached act 3, at least) 3 have been with DU drow.

There was the original blind run; then I replayed it pretty much exactly after I, uh, paid for the game; and a tactician run, all with the same character. I don't know why, I guess I just feel compelled to play this game like its a linear, pre-written story.

But I have had two other characters!

This is Gustav. The concept behind his campaign way was to make an evil durge who tried to take a turn for the better in act 3, but was too fractured by his own guilt to really succeed. Unfortunately, this resulted in a profoundly depressing and lonely experience.

He killed like half the cast and the rest were locked out because I ruined their lives. Had a fling with Lae'zel but ultimately romanced Astarion. Killed Nightsong but later had Shadowheart turn away from Shar and save her parents (which resulted in possibly the saddest moments/implications I ever experienced in a game). Refused to help Astarion Ascend in the manner that results in a fight to the death.

It got too miserable, and I ultimately abandoned the run LOL but it was a fun experiment in the worst possible iteration of a "reformed" Dark Urge.

And this is Izzantar('Drada) Godseck! He's a lolth-sworn mercenary and an existing character from my fic A Novel Experience. I live-streamed his entire run on twitch and I'm at the very last leg of it. Where we last left off, we had bare-fist beaten Raphael to death in his own house with 4 monks.

His run has actually been super fun, as Izzantar proved himself to be an excellently bad BG3 protagonist. He doesn't give a shit about what everyone else is going through, and, surprisingly, that frequently results in your companions making the morally-good choices, which he keeps chastising them for to no avail (he's not evil, it's just his culture!)

It's actually really funny to be playing a game where your tav does not seem to be taken seriously by the group at all LOL

He doesn't really get along with anyone except Lae'zel (his romance option) and Minthara (Sort of? Might be more of a case of drow compulsory-het), and kinda chose to live vicariously through Astarion for a bit to disastrous results (He's now ugly AND ascended).

Oh, also, he never fed Gale. Not even once. Dude cramped so bad he eventually just left. Fortunately we now have Gnale (Gnome Gale) who doesn't ask for boots in exchange for casting cloud of daggers at environmental bottlenecks.

[bg3galore]

Sleeping headcanons

Wyll

-Will hum you a soft tune and rub shapes into your back, while you're settling down for the night.

-Would definitely tell you stories of his life growing up and about his dreams for the future, while you listen closely to his breathing; until you fall asleep.

-Always kisses your forehead before falling asleep.

-Chuckles softly to himself every time you fall asleep before him and will take it as an opportunity to watch your sweet face sleeping; wondering if you're dreaming and what about.

Karlach

-Is a loud snorer and a very deep sleeper

-The perfect cuddler, especially for a harsh winter night; that infernal engine will actually be put to a good cause- comforting the two of you from the prickle of ice, snow and cold alike.

-During the summer, she tends to smother you a bit so you have to squirm your way out of her hold a few times if you're to get any rest at all

-Gets particularly soft and vulnerable when you tuck her hair behind her ears and tell her every little thing you love about her; it makes her feel like her engine is going to combust on site- but in the best way possible.

Shadowheart

-Plays with your hair and enjoys it when you do too

-She always prays right before and right after sleeping and always mentions you in her prayers; she wants you to be safe and healthy forever and always.

-On rare nights that she does have a nightmare (not doubt featuring wolves) she'll reluctantly wake you up and want you to spoon her and comfort her tenderly with words or reassurance; she knows it's silly that they are just wild dogs with no table manners but they terrify her to her core.

-She takes a couple of hours to fall asleep, so in the meantime she likes to read, meditate and admire every inch of you while you sleep or chill in your shared bedroll; it reminds her how lucky and blessed she is everyday.

Gale

-Snores mildly on nights his orb is particularly vexing but will still insist on you cuddling up together; he will apologise for all the trouble he knows he causes although he knows he can't control his situation or habits.

-You have a nightly ritual where you'll lay adjacent to each other and get lost in each others eyes, which tends to lead Gale to slowly getting flustered and eventually crumbling and being very keen for some sleep- he can't control his love or actions in relation to you very well so having you looking at him like that really switches something in him.

-If you ever have trouble falling or staying asleep he'll cast a sleep spell on you to make sure you will get your well deserved rest, and watch over you for a little while just in case something should happen or change.

-On nights where he struggles to sleep and you have long been taken ahold by sleep, he'll wonder off to a quiet place on the other side of camp and quietly play with his magic.

Lae'zel

-She's the type to kick and move around a lot in her sleep, maybe even growl- although she has no memory or idea about it; she would be too proud to admit it willingly anyways.

-Very light sleeper, from as early as she can remember she never wants to give any potential enemies the upper hand so she applies this too to her sleep- she will be the one with a blade to their throat.

-Initially she's not a huge fan of the cuddling idea but once you've been together for a while she starts warming up to the idea of it, and will try it once everyone is asleep; she's full of a soft joy and ever so slightly god forbid drops her guard.

-Falls asleep very easily despite her guard being up so much, she has a lot of pent up rage, anxiety and just general exhaustion so this wears a toll on her body taking her completely out before you even realize it.

Astarion

-Is prone to frequent nightmares/reliving his past with the Szarr household, which causes him to jolt awake and sometimes cry or scream.

-Otherwise he's a quiet sleeper and a wonderful cuddler, he always wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in.

-His favorite sleeping position is to have his head directly on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat, he finds it incredibly comforting and reassures him that he's not alone and won't ever have to be again- not at night, not in the day and certainly not against his demons.

-Takes a minimum of 4 hours to fall asleep especially if he's left alone with his thoughts; they eat at him with anxiety and doubt- so he tends to get to bed much earlier than everyone else in camp.

Halsin

-Only tends to snore if he's been in wild shape for too long

-Wonderful big spoon, also loves to hold you against his chest while you lay by the camp fire and watch the stars and reminisce on stories long past.

-Like Astarion he relives/has nightmares about some of his traumatic experiences from his youth but he's much more discreet about it and will do his best not to wake you up; and instead will go for a brief walk to clear his head and take in the scent of nature and all its bounties.

-Adores it when you nuzzle your face into his neck and will absolutely make you lay completely all over him so he can be closer to you; unless it embarrasses you of course.

[sansaorgana]

hullo, i adore your gale cleven stories! could you please write a buck falling in love with future wife story? meeting, proposing, + all of the little things that makes him love her. maybe she works on base and they meet there? idk. many thanks!!

hiii 😌 sorry it took me so long to go back to writing requests 🙉 your request is an idea for a long fic with many parts so I tried to fit it into a one-shot and it came out pretty long so the proposal part kinda didn't make it but it's mentioned 👌🏻

I currently have quite a few requests and I'm slowly working on them!!! 💛

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Not being able to fall asleep, Buck was laying in bed and kept staring at the celling, thinking of you. He lately couldn't stop thinking of you at all and he wanted it to remain his secret but it was also affecting his functioning on daily basis. Pilots shouldn't get distracted like that.

It wasn't love at first sight or anything of that sort. You were handing him coffee each morning and he had always been nothing but polite but – let's face it – most of the time he treated you like air. You were there because you had to, because all of you had to. It was your job to be there and you were nothing special amongst all the other men and women working at the base. He admired women's courage to sign up to help men while they were at war but he didn't even remember your name correctly.

Until that one rainy grey morning when everything seemed to go as bad as possible and you spilled the hot coffee on Buck Cleven.

"Goddamit!" he hissed and looked down at his now stained shirt. The stinging pain and the dampness of the fabric weren't very pleasant either.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry, Major," you gasped and panicked inside.

Major Cleven looked up to lay his blue eyes on you and you batted your eyelashes, stunned at how beautiful they were. He thought you did that to soften him up in a feminine manner. And his heart indeed grew softer at the sight of your face.

"It's fine," he nodded even though it wasn't. "I'll go change and when I'm back, have another one for me."

"You sure you want me to hand it to you, sir?" you joked, cheered up by the visible lack of his anger.

"We all get shaky hands sometimes," he smiled at you and left the queue. You felt bad about the fact he had to go out on the rain again and that his shirt was ruined because of you.

You personally washed it and made sure the stains went away. He had no idea about it but women responsible for the laundry were your friends. Actually, you didn't want him to know because you felt like it was a little odd on your part… So you sneaked in to the room where he had been sleeping and you placed the folded shirt on his bed carefully. You thought you were alone there but you heard someone clearing their throat behind you so you turned around and faced Major Buck Cleven himself. Your cheeks started to burn out of embarrassment.

"Major Cleven," you looked down like a child caught on stealing candy.

"Miss…"

"(Y/L/N)," you introduced yourself quietly.

"Miss (Y/L/N)," he nodded, "may I ask what you're doing?"

"I… I brought you fresh laundry, sir," you looked up at him. He seemed to be a little amused with you as he was casually chewing on a toothpick.

"I had no idea you were responsible for that, too."

"No, usually I am not, sir," you shook your head.

"Is it related to our little coffee incident perhaps?" he approached his bed and glanced at the perfectly folded and ironed shirt that seemed to be a shade lighter than before from all the chemicals you had used to get rid of the stains.

"Well, no point of lying, although I did not mean for you to know, Major… Well, I…" you took a deep breath in. "I washed it," you confessed, awkwardly.

"I can see that," he chuckled. "It's a shade lighter," he commented.

"I am so sorry, sir."

"I am the one who's sorry for your pretty hands. If that's what your washing did to my shirt, I don't want to know what it did to them," he looked down at your fingers that were playing nervously with the hem of your jacket. There was a long pause of silence between you until he finally raised his eyebrows and pointed at your hands. "Show me?" he asked.

You were a little taken aback by that request. And a little ashamed, too, because indeed your hands looked a bit rough from the laundry chemicals. You raised your hands for him to see, though.

"Ouch," he shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that," he looked deep into your eyes and you thought you'd faint any given second. They were so ocean blue, so easy to drown in.

"I'm sure your hands are no better, Major," you swallowed thickly. "Rough from the piloting and… everything."

"That's how pilot's hands should look like, miss (Y/L/N)," he pointed out and you hid your hands from his sight quickly.

"Yes, you're risking your life out there every other day and the least I could do was washing a shirt that I had previously ruined… Sir."

"Was it the first shirt you ruined?" Major Cleven took a step closer and your heart skipped a beat when you realized he was getting closer to you on purpose.

"Well… No," you didn't want to lie to him. You had spilled coffee on a few men before.

"And you washed all of these shirts, I'm safe to assume?" he asked.

"No, sir," you pursed your lips for a moment to stop them from shivering. He raised an eyebrow at you. "None of the men were so kind about it," you told him.

It wasn't really the truth. Major Cleven didn't get angry at you but none of the men really did. He just captivated you with his beautiful eyes. That's why you knew you acted pathetic to wash his shirt personally and didn't want to get caught.

But just because there was a war raging around you, it didn't change the fact you were a woman with your own heart and soul, your own needs and desires, your yearning and romantic ideas. You had a crush on him from the moment he screamed "Goddamit" in that deep voice of his. As silly as it sounded.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt something so… real and not war-realted. Something that wasn't stress, fear, worry or sadness.

"We all work hard here. There was no need to be rude about a small accident," Major Cleven explained. "And your job is as important as mine here."

"Hardly, sir," you snorted at that because it was just ridiculous. But when you looked up to meet his gaze, you could see that he was serious about it.

"You shouldn't argue with a Major, should you?" he teased and you rolled your eyes a little.

"I suppose so. But my ma's always been saying I have a big mouth," you cracked a smile and he looked a little surprised before smiling back.

"Well, well, well, who would have thought?"

"Everyone who knows me outside this base, sir."

"Well, I hope it's going to be me one day, too, then," he winked and then walked past you as if nothing had just happened. "I'm sorry, I have to fill some papers."

"Sure, sir," you stuttered out and watched him walk out of the door. You touched your cheeks with the palms of your hands. They were as hot as if you had a fever.

Since then, you two would have little conversations like that here and there. You would find out more and more about each other and Buck quickly started to get attached. He loved your laugh, the little wrinkles around your eyes whenever you smiled at him, he loved your accent, your curls straight out of a magazine cover, he loved your soft fingers when you were handing him a coffee, he loved your jokes and how devoted you were to help around the base. The sound of your voice was making his every day better and each morning he waited for you to lay your eyes on him.

And now he couldn't sleep because he remembered something that had happened earlier that day when he was up in the air above Germany and one of the missiles almost hit his plane. He watched it explode in front of him and his only thought was that if it had actually killed him, he would die without you knowing how much you meant to him.

He didn't mean to fall in love because it was a distraction. But he could also die any day. There was no point and it would only bring pain to everyone involved. And yet, he was not immune to your charm.

"You look like shit, have you even slept?" Bucky asked during breakfast.

"No," Buck admitted and sighed. He was holding a cup of warm coffee in his hands, still angry at the fact that today it hadn't been you handing it to him. There was a very long queue waiting in your line and some other woman handed a cup to him without even asking him if he wanted one.

"What's wrong?" Bucky started eating as he glanced at his friend's full plate of untouched food.

"I think I might have fallen in love."

Bucky laughed at first but then he stopped, realizing that Buck's face was as serious as ever.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back on the chair to examine his friend's face and posture. He looked troubled. "Is it that girl you always talk to?"

"You've noticed?" Buck raised an eyebrow at him.

"Everyone has. We were betting on when you two would… you know," Bucky grinned.

"And that is one of the reasons why I hate gambling," Buck wasn't pleased to find out. He felt like it was disrespecrful to you. "What did you bet on?"

"That you never confess your feelings and going to be sad about it your whole life," Bucky teased. It wasn't what he really placed his bet on but he wanted to motivate his friend.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Buck sighed and placed the coffee cup down before standing up and approaching you. You were handing out coffee to the men waiting in line but he walked up to you from the side so you turned around with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Major. Don't think you can fool me, I know you've already had a cup," you smiled at him.

"Are you free this weekend?" Buck asked because he had known the answer. You had mentioned to him the other day that you would leave the base for the upcoming weekend.

"I am, sir," you nodded. God, he even loved how you would always address him "sir" or "Major". Something about it was making him feel weak and absolutely crazy about you.

"I have a weekend pass, too," Buck lied. He didn't but he was going to make sure he'd get one. He hadn't had any day off since he came to the base so Colonel would give it to him surely.

"Oh, nice, sir," you batted your eyelashes. This time you did that on purpose.

"Would you like to go to London with me? I've never been there," he proposed and the man who was taking coffee from you at that moment, froze for a second and widened his eyes at Major Cleven. Then he smirked, waiting for your response as much as Buck.

"I… Ugh… Well… Sir, I…" you hated yourself for not being able to articualte yourself properly. "I would love to, Major Cleven," you said finally with a smile.

At first you wanted to tell him it would be inappropiate. And that you actually planned on visiting your family. But then you remembered you were at war and he could die any day. No one cared about being appropiate. And your family would understand, surely.

"Whoo!" The man taking coffee from you cheered and you gave him a scolding look. He blushed and walked away as fast as possible.

"I will gladly go, Major," you repeated yourself, "but you better remember I'm a proper lady, sir."

"Oh, of course," Buck nodded.

There you were, his proper lady. Sleeping on his chest in a London's hotel room. He watched you breathe peacefully as he caressed your hair. The morning rays of sunshine were creeping in through the curtains and he wished to stop the time. He wished to lay with you forever like that. He didn't want to go back to reality.

You moved a little in his arms and he saw your eyelids opening slowly.

"Good morning, my proper lady," he teased as his fingertips caressed your bare back.

"Good morning, Mr. Good Boy," you teased him back and yawned before rubbing your eyes. "What time is it?"

"Still quite early. We don't have to leave yet," Buck answered.

"I'm glad," you bit on your lower lip and looked up to meet the gaze of his beautiful eyes. "It was the eyes," you admitted.

"Hm?"

"I fell for the eyes mostly," you confessed in a whisper.

He didn't say anything for a while. He was left speechless at you being so open with your feelings; he felt like the luckiest man on earth.

"I'm glad you fell for me," he decided to be playful to hide how weak you were making him feel. You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. "Because now we have to get married."

"Oh, you Americans," you rolled your eyes jokingly. "I wasn't the first girl you slept with, come on," you giggled.

"But you were the first proper lady, for sure," he tickled you a little and you cupped his face to place a kiss upon his lips.

"Don't joke with me like that," you whispered. "Because I'll really want to marry you and then I won't leave you alone. I'll fly to America and follow you everywhere like a maniac," you half-joked.

"You promise?" Buck's eyes softened and his voice sounded very serious. You watched him carefully as his hand gently fixed one of your reckless curls. God, he really meant that.

"And what will you tell our kid? How did daddy meet mummy?" you asked.

"Well, she spilled coffee on me and batted her eyelashes at me. I was practically sold," Buck pulled you closer to place a kiss on the top of your head.

"Doesn't take much for you to fall in love, Buck Cleven. Makes me seriously worried about your fidelity," you teased.

"You fell for my eyes. Do you have any idea how many other men have blue eyes?" Buck laughed.

You laughed, too, because he had a point. And then you got serious again and caressed his cheeks with your fingers before pressing your forehead to his.

"Well, none of them is Buck Cleven."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆˚࿔ Astarion 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “You’ll let me have my way with you, won’t you darling?”

⋆˚࿔ Haarlep 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “Oh, my delectable little plaything, my little dove. Defiled in such a delicious manner, marker by my touch, body and soul. Everyone will know that you belong to me, that you’re mine to ravage and pleasure as I please.”

⋆˚࿔ Raphael 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “My, my, what a delightful sight you are. Such an eager little pup, always ready to obey my every command and bring me satisfaction. Your dedication is truly remarkable, pup.”

⋆˚࿔ Zevlor 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “I can’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Lucky to have you, to share this intimate connection with you. You bring me such pleasure, such joy. To be able to pleasure you, to witness the pleasure etched on your face, it’s a gift beyond measure.”

⋆˚࿔ Rolan 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “Greedy little… Look where your games have led us. Getting off in Lorroakan’s tower, risking everything. Now hush, you broth this upon yourself.”

⋆˚࿔ Halsin 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “I could feast on you all night long. Your sweet juices like an addictive honey, driving me wild with every lick.”

⋆˚࿔ Gale 𝜗𝜚˚⋆: “You’re costing my fingers in such a messy manner, dear . You truly are a work of art, my love, and I am privileged to experience such pleasures with you.”

[grims-sunshine]

🤍 Where I'm supposed to be 🤍

Summary: Tav (aka the reader) is taking care of Astarion after defeating Cazador.

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Astarion x Tav/Reader

Tags: Hurt / comfort; I think this is called reverse comfort? (When the reader comforts the character); lots of mentions of blood; Not 100% canon compliant but it's just minor details/ me not wanting to simply retell what happens in the game

A heavy silence falls over the crypt as Astarion sinks to his knees. You almost preferred it when he was still screaming. The current silence feels like a dark presence stretching over you, making it difficult to breathe.

You can sense that your other companions are just as uneasy as you are. Karlach uneasily fumbles with the handle of her weapon and Gale is biting his lip while staring at the gory scene in front of you with Astarion as its main actor.

They're clearly struggling to decide what to do now. So are you.

Your first instinct is to hug Astarion, to fuss over him and make sure he isn't injured, but you're not sure he wants to be touched right now. However, just standing there watching him doesn't feel right either.

"Astarion?" You finally ask, taking a small step towards him, carefully stretching out your hand like you're talking to a wild animal. He doesn't react. His eyes are fixated on the dead body of his former master in front of him, almost like he's waiting for Cazador to jump up and start mocking him again. Like the moment he looks away, Cazador will return back to life and continue to attack.

You follow his stare, seeing the multiple stab wounds and the puddle of blood he's lying in. No, that bastard is dead.

You kneel down next to Astarion, placing a hand on his shoulder. If he noticed you at all, he isn't showing it. You look at him, trying to make out any immediate signs of injuries. He doesn't appear to be hurt, but you do notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip and the way his eyes swell up with tears. You gently pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. Astarion doesn't resist, letting his head sink into your chest.

He's completely still for a few moments, then the previous silence is broken by a series of loud sobs. Astarion's hands grasp the back of your shirt, fists balling together like he's scared you'll disappear. He trembles in your arms and you pull him even closer. You run a hand through Astarion's hair in an attempt to soothe him, even if just a little bit. It's sticky with blood, but you hardly notice that.

"It's okay, love. He won't hurt you anymore," you whisper in his ear, your other hand gently stroking his back. He only sobs louder in response, but it seems to help him breathe a little more evenly.

You're interrupted by the other spawn approaching. They still appear in just as much shock as Astarion, eyeing the corpse of their former master like they, too, can't believe he's really gone yet.

"Well… What now?" One of them eventually asks, all of them turning to Astarion like they expect guidance from him now.

You look over to your companions, hoping one of them might step in to redirect the spawn. But before any of them can say something, Astarion loosens his grip of you, getting up with his back straightened.

He's still sniffling a little, but already looks far more composed than before. Or, at least he tries to look composed.

Perhaps he even manages to convince everyone else that he's really okay. However, you can't help but notice the slight tremble in his legs as he walks over to pick up Cazador's staff, and the way he's fighting to keep his voice steady while talking to the others.

You've spent enough time around him, observing his mannerisms, to know when he's putting on a show. As much as he tries to appear alright, in truth he's far from being okay.

As Astarion's siblings leave, his eyes trail after them, staring off into the distance even after they're long gone. You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to break him out of his trance. "Astarion, are you alr-" He cuts you off.

“Let’s just go home. I've had enough of this place," he says without turning around, just loud enough for you to hear.

You only nod in response and Astarion starts walking, the rest of your party following close behind.

Nobody says a word on your way back to Elfsong Tavern. Yet, you grow increasingly worried for Astarion. He looks like he's barely holding himself together, while pushing his emotions as far down as possible. You can only hope he'll open up to you later, rather than trying to pretend the events of tonight never happened.

The moment you reach Elfsong Tavern, Astarion drags himself upstairs to the floor you rented, straight to his bed where he sits down, staring at the wall. You contemplate whether it would be best to leave him alone with his thoughts for the time being, or whether you should try talking to him.

Eventually you decide to just sit down next to him, quietly reaching for his hand. "Just so you know," you start, "you don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. But I'm here for you."

Astarion nods in response, ever so slightly squeezing your hand.

You don't know how much time passes like this, but Astarion eventually breaks the silence, almost startling you with how suddenly he starts speaking.

“Do you think I made the right decision back there?” His voice doesn't have its usual smoothness to it as he speaks. Instead, it sounds sore and raspy. He just sounds tired.

“Yes.” You say it wholeheartedly, not even having to think before you respond. Astarion made the right decision - Of that you’re sure. “You’ve proven you’re better than Cazador. You didn't cause others to suffer for your own benefit. You made sure he'll never hurt anyone again. I’m absolutely certain you made the right decision.”

Astarion hums, nodding slowly as if he's contemplating your words. “At least one of us is sure, then. I really hope you’re correct.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not so certain I did the right thing. But maybe I should trust your judgment while I can't think straight."

You squeeze his hand tightly, and he gives a weak squeeze back. “Give it a while for everything to settle down,” you suggest, gently. “Once you’ve had some time to work through all this, I’m sure you’ll see things have worked out for the better.” He just grunts in response, letting his head sink against your shoulder. You sit like that in silence for a while, and you can tell he’s on the brink of falling asleep.

“Hey, how about we get all this blood off you and go to sleep?” You suggest, running a hand through his hair. Astarion just nods, allowing you to pull him along and lead him towards the small bathtub in the bathroom.

You run some warm water and grab a sponge while Astarion sits in the tub. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't let you take care of him like this, but tonight he doesn’t protest as you run the sponge over his skin, making sure to wash off the blood still sticking to his skin. He even closes his eyes for a while, completely giving himself into the care of your gentle touch as you run the water over his head in an attempt to get the blood splatters out of his hair.

Once you're sure you've gotten rid of all the blood, you bring Astarion a towel, wrapping it around him.

He sits there and watches as you grab a second towel, using it to dry his hair.

As you're about to put the towel away, you suddenly find Astarion's arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close enough for him to rest his head against your torso.

You freeze in place, only moving enough to drop the towel and run your hand through Astarion's still damp hair. Just by his expression you can tell he needs to be close to you right now, and you have no intention of denying him that comfort.

After a while of being together like this in silence, you gently nudge Astarion. "Let's get you to bed, alright? It'll be much more comfortable there."

Astarion seems reluctant to let go of you, finally agrees to it after you promise not to leave his side for the night (not that you would've done so either way).

As he climbs into bed, you lie down next to him, pulling him into your arms. Astarion seems happy to rest his head on your chest. He seems almost peaceful like this, listening to your heartbeat while you run a hand across his back with gentle strokes.

"Thank you. For taking care of me… And for stopping me from probably making a big mistake. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once," Astarion mumbles, sounding like he's on the edge of falling asleep.

You run a hand through his still damp hair. "Don't mention it. You would've done the same for me." You press a kiss to his forehead, catching a glimpse of the slightest smile curling Astarion's lips. "And I hope you know you can always rely on me."

Astarion nods, hugging you a little tighter. "Yes. And I'm grateful for that, too."

Soon after, the only thing you hear is Astarion's soft breaths as he drifts off to sleep. You can only hope the next day will be a little brighter for him. But if not, he still has you to rely on.

Thank you for reading 🤍

Title was inspired by this

[elspethdekarios]

Places in Waterdeep

According to this reddit comment, Gale’s tower is most likely in the Dock Ward on the corner of Sea Lion and Sail Street. Assuming Gale and Tav spend most of their time in Waterdeep either at home or at Blackstaff (well, depending on what your tav does for a living! I imagine mine works nearby), here are some possible locations for all your fanfic needs. I’m using this map and the descriptions it gives for the locations. This is not an exhaustive list–just the ones I thought might be the most useful to writers.

- Near Gale’s Tower (Dock Ward) -

Taverns and Inns:

The Quaffing Quaggoth

Tavern. A favorite among sailors, merchants, and young nobles, this dwarven owned and operated establishment is known for its own specialty brew – the Quaggoth, a thick house-brewed stout mixed with a shot of a house secret liquor.

The Sailors' Own

Tavern. The place is low-beamed and crowded, with weary sailors slumped on benches playing at board games, cards, or merely getting thoroughly drunk. This place is just what its name implies. It belongs to the sailors, and they don't really want anyone else here. The proprietor is Guthlakh 'Hands' Imyiir. (so, maybe not likely for them to frequent this one, but who knows!)

The Pickled Fisherman

Tavern

The Soaring Pegasus

Tavern

Bard inn

A cozy inn owned by a family of past adventurers, it appears to have been fixed up recently. Most of its visitors are sailors, but it has been known to house meetings between gangs in order to keep the peace. In the basement is a hidden underground fighting ring.

The Angry Coxswain

The tavern contains a one-way portal connecting with a prison cell in the slave market in the Mulhorandi city of Skuld.

The Yawning Portal

Inn. Built in 1306 DR on the ruins of Halaster Blackcloak's old tower, the Yawning Portal gained most of its renown for being the primary open route to the Undermountain. The Portal's innkeeper, Durnan, is a former adventurer of great power and renown.

The Gray Griffon

Tavern

Darth's Dolphyntyde

Tavern

Selune's Smile

Tavern

Azuth's Mug

Tavern

The Rearing Hippocampus

Inn. Probably the classiest inn in Dock Ward. Favored by many caravan masters and merchants who want a good, secure place to sleep, and regular visitors to the city who have business near the harbor.

The Splintered Stair

Inn. The entry hall of this room rises up three floors, overlooked by interior balconies linked by elegantly spiraling stairs.

The Blackstar Inn

This dignified, even haughty inn is like a fortress on the outside, with barred windows, stone walls, and a slate roof. Its lobby has two armed guards, and the four hostlers in the locked stables are also armed. Fees are high, but in return, guests get almost soundproof rooms. Each room has a hip-bath, a double bed, water and wine provided for drinking and various pamphlets and chapbooks provided for light reading. Each room also has its own fireplace, albeit with a miserly supply of firewood, and the patrons tend to keep to themselves. A good place to get a long soundsleep. Asiyra Boldwinter is the proprietress of this inn. Her manner is one of uppercrust, noble dignity.

The Empty Keg

The Empty Keg is a rowdy beer-hall. Later at night, it sees visits from workers from Mother Salinka's next door to reinvigorate business there.

The Red-Eyed Owl

This is the closest thing Waterdeep has to a comfortable, unimpressive, welcoming gathering place for the neighborhood. It is the kind of place where friends will come in and hail each other across the room. The food and drink are pleasant, if unspectacular, and you'll be allowed to sit in peace. It is a rambling old wooden building that looks as if it's about to fall into the street. Balarg 'Twofists' Dathen, a man with long, red hair, owns and runs the tavern.

The Sleepy Sylph

Tavern. Locals in the neighborhood come here for a single drink, to enjoy the music and to watch the waitresses (wearing diaphanous robe), and then go to the Owl, just steps away to eat and drink at about a third the price. The owner is Callanter Rollingshoulder, a tall man dressed in dark silken robes with a magnificent mustache.

The Bloody Fist

Tavern. Bullies and angry people come here to pick fights, and a room upstairs is retained for a succession of novice priests of Tempus who dress broken bones and perform minor healing magics in return for donations to the war god. Members of the Bull Elk Tribe can usually be found drinking here. Proprietor: Uglukh Vorl, a half-orc.

The Sleeping Snake

Tavern. This rowdy place is roughly furnished in hastily mended furniture. Members of the Black Boar Tribe can usually be found drinking here.

Festhalls and Entertainment:

From the Forgotten Realms wiki: “A festhall was an establishment combining the services of brothels, casinos, and private clubs. Festhalls provided a variety of adult-themed leisure activities and entertainment, including sex work, gambling, day spas, dining, exotic dancing, companionship, role-play, and other specialized interests.”

The Mermaid's Arms

Festhall. Elegant dining lounges, in which one dines or just drinks with an attractive host or hostess (or alone). Increasingly, the Arms is being used by single gentlefolk for a night of love. In other words, patrons are going there to meet each other, not to hire a host or hostess for the night. The Arms is large, well-lit, always busy, and can be quite expensive.

The Hanging Lantern

Festhall. The Lantern, an escort service known for the stunning beauty of its workers, and for the skill of its matchmakers, is famous up and down the Sword Coast.

Blushing Nymph

Festhall. The long stair links the oubliette of the Blushing Nymph festhall with Undermountain's first level.

Mother Salinka's House of Pleasures

This is a dingy low-coin festhall owned by halflings and frequented by those who are there for a 'brief visit', or can't afford or are turned away from the Yawning Portal.

Three Pearls Nightclub

Festhall. Pearls, as it is called, is a popular evening destination for Waterdhavians, offering stand-up comics, trained animal acts, illusionists' recitals, bards, orators, and exotic dancing. It has a low ceiling and is usually hot and smoky. The manager, Xandos Waeverym, is known as 'the Dandy'.

Seven Masks Theater

The theater caters to a lower-class clientele, and ship captains and sailors are admitted for free. The owner of the theater is a burly and jovial Shou man with a braided goatee named Rongquan Mystere.

The Purple Palace

Festhall. This is the closest thing Waterdeep has to a Calishite silks-boudoir. Its lavender silk draperies and gauzy hangings are heavily perfumed. Everything is cushions, soft carpets, music, and purple-tinted, spiced wine. Companionship is expensive and very good.

The Smiling Succubus

Festhall. Not exactly the pride of Wharf Street, but one of its most popular destinations.

Businesses and Shopping:

Whistling Blades

Business. Weapons.

The Fishscale Smithy

Adventuring gear

Talnu's Ropeworks

Adventuring gear

The Old Xoblob Shop

This curiosity shop is filled with lots of battle trophies and souvenirs from Undermountain. Worth a look to see the stuffed beholder for which the shop is named. The shopkeeper is a deep gnome.

House of Pride Perfumes

Business. The House of Pride is crammed with a forest of glass bottles of all sizes, shapes, and hues. It is protected by a special enchantment that prevents glass from breaking. The shop is run by two sisters and is guarded by trained hunting dogs.

Khostal Hannass, Fine Nuts

Business. Food.

Felhaur's Fine Fish

Business. Food.

Miscellaneous:

Mirt's Mansion

Villa. Mirt is a friend of Durnan (see The Yawning Portal). Both used magic to extend their lives.

House of Two Hands

Monastery. Order of the Even-Handed.

Harborwatch Tower

City building

The Griffon

The walking statue called the Griffon is shaped like the beast for which it is named. Though it stands on all four legs, its back is fully twenty feet off the ground, making it a mount fit for a storm giant. Although it has shown itself to be capable of flight, with the granite feathers of its wings spreading like a bird's, the Griffon now merely stands in a regal pose near Peaktop Aerie atop Mount Waterdeep, looking to the southeast over the Dock Ward. Newcomers sometimes assume it to be a monument to Waterdeep's Griffon Cavalry, but Waterdavians know better.

Peaktop Aerie

City building

Castle Waterdeep

Thick-walled stronghold that broods over Castle Ward from the flanks of Mount Waterdeep. Pennants and banners are often hung and flown from its battlements to signal the arrival of diplomats or the commencement of ceremonies.

Starry Cradles orphanage

The Starry Cradles orphanage is a Dock Ward orphanage run by Matron Griselda Hoppletun, a halfling care-taker, and funded by the House of the Moon and the Selûnite clergy thereof.

- Near Blackstaff Tower (Castle Ward) -

Taverns and Inns:

Sapphire House

Expensive rooming house on Swords Street. The inn is a five-story building.

Tavern of the Flagon Dragon

Tavern. Three Stories high, stone dragons at the base of the walls are all gouting fire, two dragon helmed guards at the door. Caters more to the less-than-noble class.

The Singing Sword

Tavern. Three floors of busy diners enjoy one of the largest menus in Waterdeep. They are entertained by the high-voiced ballads of the wondrous magical blade for which the tavern is named. Gothmorgan Ilibuld, the proprietor, is a polite host.

Wyrmbones Inn

Inn

The Pampered Traveler

Inn. This inn stands like an exotic castle. There is inside a library filled with books and a reading table with a glass top, under which can be seen a map of the known Realms as far west as the Moonshaes, as far east as Thay, and as far south as the Shaar. All in all, a quietly luxurious place to stay. This is undoubtedly the wealthy scholar's choice of hostel. The inn is run by Brathan Zilmer, guildmaster of the Fellowship of Innkeepers.

Dauntlyn's Doors

Luxury Inn

The Elfstone Tavern

Tavern. This old, dimly lit tavern caters to elves. By night, dancing lights spells bathe the place in soft, floating, blue motes of light. Gentle harp, pipe, flute, and choral music is performed and service is fast and graceful. Dwarves and half-orcs will be driven away; humans and halflings are tolerated in small parties; half-elves are just accepted. Yaereene Ilbaereth is the tavern's proprietress.

The Blue Jack

Tavern. The tavern specializes in low prices and fast service, and it's a success. Immithar the Glove, the tavern's proprietor, is quick with a joke or to mimic the speech of other.

The Jade Jug

Inn. Waterdeep's plushest inn. Guests are attended by a personal servant for the duration of their stay and their every need is attended to. The charming, beautiful, one-armed hostess is Amaratha Ruendarr. She notices every detail.

The Dragon's Head Tavern

Tavern. This modest place is aimed at those who like to sit quietly and chat over their drinks. The proprietor is Vorn Laskadarr.

The Asp's Strike

Tavern

Festhalls and Entertainment:

Jhural's Dance

Festhall

Silavene's

Festhall

The Smiling Siren

Festhall. Nightclub & Theater. Home to a company of popular local actors who can perform everything from rowdy comedy to high tragedy. Nobles often hire the place for an evening for exclusive performances. The Siren is also home to traveling troupes of vaudeville jugglers, comedians, and nearly nude dancers or burlesque dancers. Before and between performances, the place is used for drinking and dancing to live music, sometimes with show dancers on the stage. The mage Perendel Wintamer runs this nightclub.

Lightsinger Theater

Business. Entertainers.

Mother Tathlorn's House of Pleasure

Festhall. Entertainers. The most famous house of pleasure in Waterdeep is a large, five-floored building with two additional levels of dungeons below ground. Mother Tathlorn's has on staff several priests of Sune. The most popular service performed at Mother Tathlorn's is massage and bathing, but all of this luxury and pleasure doesn't come cheaply.

Businesses and Shopping:

The Market

Open marketplace. Largest open space in the city surrounded by stone buildings that enclose the maze of temporary stalls and carts that appear here day and night.

Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes

Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes is a posh retail shop, located in the shadow of the God Catcher statue. Owned and operated by the Blackwell family, Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes specializes in rare and antique manuscripts. The shop is especially known, among the noble set, for its restoration, document preservation, as well as transcription services. Mr Blackwell's son, Aldous, has been known to keep an eye on any ancient texts which spend time in the family's shoppe.

The Bookstore occupies the bottom of a three story building. The upper two stories are the Blackwell's lavish townhome apartment.

Paethier's Pipeweed

Business

Eilean's Maztican Delights

Business

Sharkroar - Harth Shalark's Broadsheets

Business

Sorynth's Silverware

Business

The Curious Past

Business is run by Bronwyn Caradoon, dealing in exotic items while also being a front for Harper Activity.

Diloontier's Apothecary

Assassins. Drugs. Poisons. Potions. Now renamed to 'Diloontier's & Sons Apothecary'.

This upscale store catered to the elite of Waterdhavian society. Those who had the right credentials and money for it could quietly purchase poisons and more nefarious potions from the proprietor.

Balthorr's Rare & Wondrous Treasures

Business. Magic items. Balthorr 'the Bold' Olaskos will fence stolen items for 40% market value.

Old Knot Shop

Adventuring gear

Rebeleigh's Elegant Headwear

Business. Clothing.

Halls of Hilmer, Master Armorer

Armor. Hilmer, a tall, strong, and soft-spoken man, with shoulders as wide as most doors, only makes plate, but he's known as the best, or among the best, in all the Sword Coast lands. He's a master craftsman.

Halambar Lutes & Harps

Business. Entertainers. This shop sells all sorts of stringed musical instruments. Kriios Halambar, guildmaster of the Council of Musicians, Instrument-Makers, and Choristers owns and runs this shop.

The Golden Key Locksmiths

Business. The proprietor, Ansilver, makes custom locks to order, and guarantees that he's never sold a key that will open the lock you buy from him to anyone else.

Phalantar's Philtres & Components

Business. Drugs. Poisons. Potions. Here you can buy medicines, herbs, and rare substances used in the making of perfumes, scented oils, poisons, and as material components in the casting of spells. Phalantar Orivan will fence stolen goods for 40% market value. He is said to be fabulously rich.

Olmhazan's Jewels

Business. All the gems one can think of, except very rare or magical sorts. Jhauntar Olmhazan, Gentleman Speaker for the Jewelers' Guild, owns and runs this shop.

Temples:

Font of Knowledge

Temple of Oghma. Largest public library in the city.

Halls of Justice

Temple of Tyr. Holy Order of the Knights of Samular.

Spires of the Morning

Temple of Lathander. Order of the Aster.

Temple of the Seldarine

Temple of all elven deities.

Miscellaneous:

Melody Mount Walk

A magically lit tunnel that runs west up to the cliffs on which the New Olamn barding college is situated. The tunnel contains a little-known portal between Waterdeep and the keep in Rassalantar. The tunnel continuously resounds with music due to an ongoing concert known as the Neverending String of Pearls that is performed by bardic students from New Olamn in a small alcove in the tunnel.

Syndra Wands' Tower

Wizard's domicile.

The Lady Dreaming

One of the eight enormous statues called the Walking Statues of Waterdeep, scattered throughout Waterdeep to defend the city in times of great peril. This statue has the appearance of a titanic sculpture of a noble lady asleep in her garden.

The Great Drunkard

One of the eight enormous statues called the Walking Statues of Waterdeep, scattered throughout Waterdeep to defend the city in times of great peril. The unconscious pose of the statue and the tavern in its lap made the name of the Great Drunkard a natural fit.

Duir's Alley

This busy, winding passage is often the scene of spell demonstrations and practice, as patrons or staff spill out of the rear of the Elfstone Tavern and unleash magic down the alley.

Cat Alley

Recently, a masked, rapier-wielding, quietly chuckling assailant has made this a dangerous place for women after dark.

The God Catcher

One of the eight enormous statues called the Walking Statues of Waterdeep, scattered throughout Waterdeep to defend the city in times of great peril. This is perhaps the most famous walking statue in the city, thanks to its dramatic pose : a well-muscled but impassive male human with a sphere of stone floating above its right hand raised skyward.

Piergeiron's Palace

White marble Palace and main office location for many city officials, the majority of which are dedicated to the administration of city services, such as the Watch, the Guard, city clerks, and the Loyal Order of Street Laborers. The ruler of the city - the Open Lord of Waterdeep - resides and works here.

Tower of the Order

Guildhall. Magic items. Scrolls. Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors.

House of the Fine Carvers

Guildhall. Guild of Fine Carvers.

The Map House

Guildhall. Surveyors', Map & Chart-makers' Guild.