At least they would if I had any friends

But that takes a while (being a slow drawer, and all that), so please enjoy this little number I drew a week or so back in the meantime.

Tim really punked himself when he said he hoped he wouldn't be the one to make the first roll but then made Gale the whole game's main character.

Oh, what's that, I heard some nonsense about how Gale is "straight-coded"?

This is a man who loves you if you're an illithid. This is a man who would build you the most extravagant terrarium if you were a worm. This is a man who could not care less about the genital configuration of his partner because he has a PhD in yearning. He's fucking thrilled with you in any ending that you end up together in, and that's got no gender at all baybeeee.

GAAAAAAYYYYY-

Oh, my apologies, queen.

Feel free to put whatever hand there you’d like, too ❤️

(we just got out of a battle so he's a little dirty)

Thank you for tagging me, @optimisticgrey <3 I don't have anything new to upload yet (been taking a short break from writing) but I wanted to give fellow Galemancers a gentle reminder this Self-Indulgent Sunday regarding an... aspect of our beloved wizard's wardrobe. Please don't forget/overlook Gale's Netherese Briefs, as canonically they are enchanted and the effects of it are completely up to you. <3

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Here's my version of the enchantment:

Excerpt:

"I'd give you the moon and stars if I could. Anything to make you happy, Gale. Thank you. For... being mine."

Gale's hands stilled against you. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the gentle lap of water against the shore and the distant murmur of the inn behind you. Then his breath left him in a shuddering exhale, his arms tightening almost painfully around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"You foolish, perfect man," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His lips traced the line of your neck - not in passion, but something far more vulnerable. "Mystra demanded worship. You give me devotion so freely."

His fingers trembled slightly as they carded through your hair, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Moonlight caught the sheen in his dark eyes. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?" His thumb brushed your lower lip. "You trust me with your darkness. Your obedience. Your very self." A shaky laugh escaped him. "And you thank me? Oh, you daft fool."

You turned in his arms, straddling his lap without breaking contact. Up close, you could see every fleck of amber in his eyes, every faint line of exhaustion and care that made him Gale. Your fingers traced the silvering hair at his temples as he sighed contently.

There’s nowhere you’d rather be.

The quiet intimacy of the moment lingered—your forehead resting against Gale’s, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your spine, the night air soft around you. Then, abruptly, Gale cleared his throat, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on your hips.

"Vesper, my daft bard," he murmured, his voice oddly strained, "Might you… relocate for a moment? I uhmmm... Isobel is right there, and while I’m certain she’s thoroughly preoccupied with maintaining the barrier, I’d rather not provide an unintended distraction...."

You pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. Gale’s face was flushed; his expression caught somewhere between fondness and mild panic.

"...What?" you asked, genuinely baffled.

Gale sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It’s—ah. A sartorial matter."

You blinked.

"A wardrobe-related matter," he clarified, then winced. "No, that makes it sound like my robes are undone. Which they aren’t. Obviously." He took a steadying breath. "What I mean to say is—Mystra’s eyelids, this is absurd—I’m still wearing my Netherese briefs."

You stared, outright lost.

What now?

"I’m sorry, Netherese what?"

“Briefs. Smallclothes.” Gale’s flush deepened. "Enchanted undergarments," he said, his tone shifting into that particular cadence he used when explaining magical theory—as if that might somehow make this less mortifying. "Designed to, ah… mitigate certain… biological responses that could have once aggravated the orb’s instability. A necessary precaution during my more… fragile period after getting the orb." He gestured vaguely. "Perfectly practical for a strapping gentleman such as myself, I assure you."

You tilted your head, still not quite following. "So they’re… magic underwear?"

“Oh, this foolish bard...” Gale groaned. "Yes, Vesper. They’re magic."

"But why would you need to—" Your eyes widened as realization finally dawned. "Oh. Oh."

Gale buried his face in his hands. "Yes, my insufferable bard. Oh."

You made a strangled noise, half-laugh, half-gasp, and promptly tumbled off his lap, landing gracelessly in the grass beside him, thankfully away from the food and wine. Your face burned. "You—those—why would you tell me this?!"

Gale peeked through his fingers, his own embarrassment giving way to amusement at your flustered state. "Because, my daft, handsome bard, someone was sitting in my lap looking unfairly tempting, and I felt it only fair to warn you that current circumstances are… archaic. Especially if you were hoping to get a *ahem* rise out of me." He sighed dramatically. "I really ought to change into something less… academically restrictive considering our... ritual progress."

You covered your face with your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Gods, Gale. Of course, you’d turn your verbosity into something so risqué."

He grinned, reaching over to tug your hands away from your burning cheeks. "Come now, it’s hardly my fault you’re so effortlessly distracting." His thumb brushed your knuckles. "Though I suppose I should be flattered you find the concept of my undergarments this scandalizing."

You groaned, but didn’t pull away, letting him lace his fingers through yours. The night air was cool against your flushed skin, the stars above the barrier winking mischievously.

Gale leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "For the record, I do plan to retire them. Permanently." His lips brushed your ear. "When the time comes, of course. I like to keep you on edge."

You made another incoherent noise and shoved him lightly, which only made him laugh—bright and unguarded, the sound echoing over the lakeshore.

Because he spent his teenage years chasing books and studying while his peers snuck off behind the stables.

At first, it feels strange to him, all the saliva and- thank Mystra, you both have impeccable oral hygiene. But then he realizes the thrill is in the complete lack of decorum. It's like creating a new spell in real time and each one is different. If he turns his tongue this way, will it deepen sensation? What if he rolls it just so? Oh...yes. He must file that information away for later.

Soon, he starts to look forward to them, like little experiments. He takes in a variety of considerations- the sounds you make, the sounds he makes, if length of time correlates to intensity and if the risk of exposure affects both.

And what if he introduced new variables? Different body parts.

Suction?

Teeth?

If you give a wizard some cookie, is all I'm sayin'.

My evidence: