Multifandom stuff/whatever I’m into at the moment Passionate about nature and queer/disability representation Genderfluid (she/they/he) | Bi | 25 | 18+
Species/Race: Mephistopheles Tiefling
Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)
Background: Outlander
Alignment: Neutral Good
~~Stats~~
~~Appearance~~
Height: 5'3" (minus horns)
Voice: Voice 6
Distinguishing Features: Multiple well-healed scars, particularly on their face and neck; lots of freckles; black, mist-like tattoo radiating from left eye; tail tip is crooked from an old injury
~~Personality~~
Traits: Introverted, secretive, curious, exploratory, passionate, understanding, kind, stubborn
Ideals: Wander believes in protecting life and nature, even if they have to stand on their own to do so.
Bonds: Wander is a faithful follower of Silvanus and is fiercely loyal to their family, Circle, and later their companions. While they don't usually like to spend much time there, they care about the city of Baldur's Gate, even if they wouldn't admit it.
Flaws: Slow to trust, somewhat bitter, reluctant to talk about their feelings
Likes: Nature, studying ecosystems, drawing, raspberries and other sweet things, traveling
Dislikes: Large crowds, confinement (of themself or others), pointless destruction, feeling out of place
~~Backstory~~
Born in the spring of 1465 DR on a small, wooded homestead about a day's ride from Baldur's Gate, the wilderness has been one of Wander's closest companions for longer than they can remember. Between their fairly isolated upbringing and the fact that they were born to a tiefling father and a half-drow mother, Wander didn't have many positive interactions with the outside world until a local druid Circle noticed their affinity with nature and decided to mentor them. Eventually, Wander earned their place as a fully-fledged member.
Once they were older and had completed their training, they decided to go by a virtue name, choosing it based on their love of adventure and desire to see the world, and they've gone by it ever since. They spent the next several years traveling (mostly to Faerûn's south and interior), alternating that with studying and protecting the area they grew up in and furthering their druidic training. While they worked hard and were clearly gifted, their skills were only able to grow so much in their current environment and their frequent struggles to work closely with others often held them back. In order to fix this, their Circle's archdruid sent them on their first big journey to the north to visit other Circles there. But along the way, Wander's plans were derailed when they found themself an unwilling passenger of a mindflayer nautiloid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At long last, here they are! Wander is my Karlach-romancing druid and my first BG3 Tav. I’ve been meaning to post about them forever but hadn’t been able to get around to it yet even though I created them quite a while back. I’ve had a ton of fun playing them and building them up as a character. I’ve got a lot of big plans for them that I’ve been slowly working on that I’ll hopefully be able to share with you all relatively soon!
I want to go on record and say I really love when fanfic writers self-promote. First of all, my dash is so chaotic that chances are I actually didn’t see your fic the first time you posted about it. If you reblog it a few times at different times of day (or over multiple days!) I’m much more likely to see it! Second of all, even if I did see your post the first time (or even if I’ve seen it multiple times!) if I was busy or not in the mood for that particular kind of fic at the moment, there’s a good chance I haven’t actually read it yet. So the more times you reblog it the more times you are reminding me that hey, I actually did want to read that at some point. It helps me! And I appreciate it! So please, keep self promoting and self-reblogging!
As someone who, after posting my first AO3 fanfic a few years ago, experienced backlash and accusations from another tumblr user for bringing up the very existence of my own work in relation to a question directed toward readers of theirs (of which I was, mind you, though not any longer after how they behaved toward me), it's good to know that more than just my little cadre of mutuals enjoy seeing fanfic promoted.
[In retrospect, that person was probably just trying to make me feel like crap because I shipped a character with someone different than they did. If only blocking them had allowed me to stop occasionally thinking back and wondering why they were so antagonistic.]
Feels like a good time to remind certain people that this is coming from Judith Butler, who is not just a leading feminist philosopher, but also THE COFOUNDER OF QUEER THEORY
The literal cofounder of queer theory as an academic field says that abandoning trans people is fascist logic.
The voices in our community trying to exclude us may be loud, but they are not right, and they do not speak for the community as a whole or our history or anything at all.
Trans people belong here. We always have, and we always will.
one of the most baffling criticisms i've ever read of mol (who, mind you, is like a ~10-12 yr old tiefling refugee orphan) is that she's a selfish shitty person bc the contract she signed with raphael wasn't solely for the other children's benefit but also included a a boon for herself, in the form of her eventually taking over the thieves' guild sometime in the vague distant future... sorry but she sold her fucking soul to a skeevy cambion who's been around for at least a millennium and is the son of a notoriously cruel archdevil. safe passage to baldur's gate for her friends + guaranteed employment as an adult was literally the absolute least raphael could've granted her in exchange for her literal actual not-a-metaphor immortal soul.
also bg3 actively demonstrates at every possible opportunity that raphael is very, very comfortable with following deals to the letter but not to the spirit and actively fucks over the people he makes contracts with all the time (e.g., morfred, yurgir, lyrthindor, the flymms/gortash, astarion to a certain extent, both korrilla and hope, literally every debtor you meet in the house of hope...). so i don't even think it's unreasonable to suspect mol's contract has some tricky wording that will still screw her over in the future for no reason other than for raphael's own cruel amusement.
anyway i know i'm ranting but it's such an annoying argument because mol is a young kid with zero safety net or social support living in a country with a proven track record of prejudice against tieflings, arriving in a city with no established infrastructure to support the influx of refugees, no ability to get her foot in the door with an apprenticeship... she's genuinely not shitty or selfish for getting raphael to throw in something that benefits her because selling your soul is a really really big deal! you only get one of those!
tl;dr mol's entire characterization is that she's a very smart and shrewd child but one who's entirely out of her depths bc she's been forced to grow up too fast and navigate an adult world that even grown-ups in-universe aren't actually equipped to deal with. she might be abrasive or irritating to some but she's ultimately still a child in an incredibly shitty desperate position with 0 other resources who's preyed on by a fiend throughout most of the game. please just cut her some slack lol
!!!!! I'm back at it again with butch princess Wyll and this time Karlach is there too!!!!
I'm truly honoured by how kind the responses to my previous drawings have been. I'm finally getting back into drawing after a very long and exhausting final semester so the anatomy is a bit wonky lmao Also Wyll's sclera is white intentionally, it just looked better for this piece imo
(a mini-fic for bg3 pride month day 3: "orange - healing")
this is the second of the fics + matching VP i plan to post for the rainbow flag days. this one ended up being longer than i planned, but it's still short and sweet! i should note that elenion uses he/they pronouns and i switched between them in this story. 🧡
it's ~1.5k words and can be read below the cut, or on ao3 here if you'd like to leave a kudos or comment!
(if anyone ever wants to be on or off that list, or if anyone would like to be tagged specifically for my pride month mini-fics, just let me know!)
(before the fic i also wanted to say that the first pose in the photos is by @jessiemeows from her Just a Moment More pose pack, for bt1xbt2 but refitted with bone zone. and the second pose is by @another-pale-elf-lover/Miam158 from his Couple Pose Pack, for bt2xbt4 but i refitted and adjusted it a bit with bone zone. so thank you to both of you for your lovely work, and to @worfs-glorious-hair for hosting this event!)
Elenion had fun playing at The Yawning Portal tonight.
And that was exactly the problem.
The crowd had been warm and respectful. They laughed, smiled, and didn't demand he be anyone other than a man with a lute. A married man, he should add, who took far too much joy in flirting with Gale in the audience just to make sure no one forgot. The crowd had learned to love that.
Tonight, he'd rambled too long about an old folktale before playing a song based on it, losing his place once because someone laughed at the wrong part and made him laugh too. By the final verse, the room was clapping along and Elenion had completely forgotten to stay composed. So he did something he hadn't done in a long time: he swept his arms wide, twirled on his heels, and dipped low into a grand, theatrical bow.
The audience loved it. His shoulder did not.
Pain caught beneath the old scar, sharp enough to make his smile go still for a heartbeat. He straightened smoothly anyway, because of course he did. Years of practice had taught him how to turn pain into poise. How to handle it alone before anyone had a chance to see.
Unfortunately, he had a husband now.
One who, judging by the look on his face across the room, had seen right through everything. Elenion gave Gale their most reassuring smile.
He didn't smile back.
By the time they reached the tower, the ache had settled deep into Elenion’s shoulder. They sank into the couch as Gale unfastened the cloak they'd worn on the walk home.
"If I may offer a brief critique," Gale said brightly.
"You may not," Elenion interjected.
"That flourish was musically appropriate, visually effective…"
Gale’s voice softened as he rested one hand on their unscarred shoulder. “And medically unwise.”
"A mixed review," Elenion said, huffing a laugh despite himself.
"A generous one," Gale said. "Let me help, dearest."
Elenion sighed. "Gale, I…"
I'm fine. I've handled worse alone, he was going to say. And then he pictured Gale's eyes going unbearably soft, his voice dropping into that gentle tone Elenion had never learned how to argue with.
"Fine," he murmured. "The balm is in the drawer by the bed."
"I'll be right back," Gale said softly.
He was gone just long enough for Elenion to consider standing up and pretending this had never happened. Not that they would've gotten far, since the ache had spread and they knew the balm would help. They used to apply it on their own in a rush, rubbing in just enough of it to soothe the worst of the pain before moving on with their day.
When Gale returned, he had the jar in his hand and a soft shawl folded over his arm. “If you are preparing an argument, I should warn you I have several counterarguments and one of them involves simply looking at you until you concede.”
Elenion hated how well Gale understood them. "Cruel tactics," they said with a smirk.
"Effective ones." Gale sat down beside them. "Shirt, please."
They eased their shirt off carefully. The usual enchantment that hid their scar had faded at some point, and Elenion didn't bother hiding it again. Gale knew its jagged shape by heart anyway.
Gale warmed the balm between his fingers, staining them orange-gold. It smelled faintly of calendula flowers, lavender, and beeswax, an old recipe Elenion's mother had taught them after the fire.
He worked the balm slowly over the old scar, his touch careful enough to make Elenion's throat tighten for reasons that had nothing to do with pain. His thumbs found the places where the muscle had gone tight and coaxed the ache loose with small, patient circles.
When the worst of the tightness had eased, Gale leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to the curve of their shoulder.
Elenion melted into it before he could stop himself. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft, embarrassingly contented sigh.
"Don't say anything," he mumbled.
"I wasn't going to," Gale said, but Elenion could practically hear the grin in his voice.
Gale laid the shawl in Elenion's lap and cast a cantrip. A moment later, soft amber light threaded through the fabric, leaving it warm beneath his hands.
“There,” he said, draping it carefully over Elenion's shoulder. “Better?”
Elenion swallowed. "Annoyingly."
"Good," Gale said, his smile turning so smug it should've been illegal.
Elenion let themself sit beneath the warmed shawl, Gale's hand steady at their back, for all of three minutes before the tenderness became unbearable.
“I’m making tea,” they announced, bracing a hand on the edge of the couch.
Gale’s hand closed gently around their wrist before they could stand. "You are sitting still."
"I was. Briefly."
"Len."
“Darling.” They rose carefully before Gale could stop them. “You rubbed balm into my shoulder and bullied me with a shawl. Let me make tea.”
“You don’t have to take care of me just because I took care of you.”
Elenion paused. Then their face softened. "I know," they murmured. "But I want to."
Gale opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"Go wash the tavern smoke out of your hair," Elenion said. "Change into something comfortable. I’ll make the tea and come to bed."
Gale studied them for a moment, then surrendered with a sigh. "All right."
Elenion made the tea by lamplight, still wrapped in the shawl Gale had warmed for them. Orange peel, cinnamon, clove, and a spoonful of honey because Gale always claimed not to want too much honey in his tea and then drank it anyway.
It felt strange, even now, to have someone care for them like this. Stranger still to be allowed the joy of caring for Gale in return.
They smiled into the steam.
By the time they carried the cups upstairs, Gale had changed into a loose robe, his hair damp at the temples. He was sitting against the pillows with a book open in one hand, because apparently nothing could stop him from being ridiculous.
He looked beautiful.
He took a teacup in both hands, breathing in the steam before he drank. "You added too much honey."
"You always say that, and yet you always finish it," Elenion said.
Gale shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. Elenion settled close at his side, folding into him and letting their head rest near Gale’s heart. His robe had fallen open, and the scar caught the amber lamplight.
Almost without thinking, Elenion set their tea aside and brushed their fingertips along the edge of the mark. Gale went still, but didn't pull away.
They knew the scar still ached sometimes. They'd seen the bad days, when Gale pressed his hand absently to his chest after too much spellwork, or breathed a little more carefully as the old Netherese damage tugged beneath his skin. So they kept their touch light, gentle enough that Gale could stop them with the smallest breath.
They stayed tucked against him, feeling his warmth as their fingertip traced the shape the orb had left.
"I thought it would go with the orb," Gale said at last.
Elenion’s fingers stilled. "You mean the scar."
"The scar. The ache. The reminder." Gale looked away. "Mystra removed the danger. Some foolish part of me hoped she would take the evidence too."
"Evidence of…?" Elenion asked, though he already knew the answer.
Gale let out a humorless laugh. "My ruin. My folly. Choose whichever indictment sounds most poetic."
Elenion's heart ached at his words. It wasn't the first time he'd heard them, and he doubted it would be the last. He knew better than most how stubborn shame could be.
He lifted his hand from the scar to cup Gale's cheek. "Hey," he said. "Listen to me."
Gale finally looked back at him.
"I'll remind you a thousand times if you need me to," Elenion said softly. "This isn't ruin. It isn't evidence of failure. It's proof you lived."
He shifted just enough to kiss the scar, slow and careful. Then he lingered there for another breath, his mouth warm against Gale's skin.
"And," he added, lifting his gaze to Gale's, "it's also unfairly handsome."
Gale's breath caught. He tried to recover with a raised eyebrow. "A beautiful sentiment," he murmured. "I do wonder whether its author intends to accept the premise himself."
Elenion immediately glared at him. "This is about you."
Gale huffed a small laugh. "Convenient."
Elenion's glare softened. He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. He still didn't know if he could accept the premise yet, but Gale made it a little easier every day.
Gale’s hand found the shawl still draped over Elenion’s shoulder, warm from enchantment and faintly scented with calendula balm. His thumb moved over the edge of the fabric, careful and unhurried.
"I love you," Elenion whispered.
Gale kissed the top of his head. "I know," he whispered back. "And I'll always remind you too."
Elenion hid his smile against Gale's chest.
The ache hadn't vanished, and neither had the shame. Not completely. But Gale was warm beside him. Amber light softened the edges of everything, and orange spice tea cooled forgotten on the bedside table.
For tonight, that was enough.
My spell-check thinks calendula isn't a real word, which is very annoying. So fun fact: calendulas are also known as "pot marigold" and are a yellow or orange flower that's known for anti-inflammatory properties and can be used to help with wound healing and skin irritation!
