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A Midwinter Carol (13243 words) by KnightDelt Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shadowheart/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Nocturne (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Dark Justiciar Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Redemption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Background Relationships, Religious Conflict, Crisis of Faith, Not Beta Read, My First Fanfic Summary: Ten years following the defeat of the Absolute, Shadowheart is the cold-hearted Mother Superior of the Cloister of Sombre Embrace. Isolated, seeing daggers in every shadow, and ignorant to the sad truth of her reality, she is offered a final chance to turn from darkness, one fateful Midwinters Eve… It's Dark Justiciar Shadowheart's own A Christmas Carol

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Chapter 4 of Where There Is No Darkness is out

It took a longer break, but Mavis is back, thinking about Shadowheart constantly. Time for some good, old-fashioned oblivion!

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Name a more iconic duo than Nine-Fingers and all 27 of her knives 🔪🔪

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Dark Justiciar Shadowheart, but like, timey wimey

This is my wacky little idea to redeem Dark Justiciar Shadowheart with time travel!

Summary: Every night when she sleeps, Mother Superior Shadowheart is taken back to various moments in her past as a tadpoled adventurer. The flashbacks are quickly proven to be more than dreams, as she discovers whatever she does in the past changes the events of her present.

Pairing: DJ!Shadowheart x F!Tav Story Tags: Redemption arc, time travel, post-canon, retelling with a twist, angsty romance, angst with a happy ending Words: 3.2k

Check out the Dark Justiciar Redemption collection for other goodies in this genre!

(765 words) Extract below:

A light snap of thaumaturgy cracks open the door to the mapping room. Silent as always, her client enters the room taking seat on the opposite side of the bench from Shadowheart. Sounds of shuffling precede a faint clink of silver on the stone bench. Shadowheart takes the patriar's ring and confirms it is the real deal–confirmation of a successfully neutralized mark.

Shadowheart sets two satchels of gold between them signaling a wordless question: coin, or company? Cypress, as always, takes only one.

Shadowheart smirks and pulls back her hood to welcome her former travelling companion. It's only proper to greet another hero of Baldur's Gate face to face. The lithe half-drow woman turns to meet her gaze. She looks well, an impish twinkle belying the hunger in her eyes. The touch of purple in her charcoal hair is dulled slightly by the amber candlelight.

"Paying you properly is going to make me miss tonight's Nightfall feast," Shadowheart says with a touch of put-on annoyance. She regards her guest with an obvious, drawn out once over.

"I'm flattered to be the priority of the two," Cypress responds, donning a roguish smile. "If it makes you feel better, I think I can make this count for both at once."

It's almost a shame they were never involved on the road five years ago. Their trysts since, while strictly business, have been a rare gem that Shadowheart is more than happy to oblige. But it's well that they were not. A fling in that time would have been a fleeting distraction to her reaching the rank of Dark Justiciar. Her heart belongs to Shar, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Cypress is discreet, effective, punctual, and has shown no unwanted affections that would be unbecoming of the Mother Superior to entertain. An uncommonly well-suited match for this sort of arrangement. As an added bonus, the most agreeable exchange of services feels like anything but a chore. She leaves promptly, never overstaying her welcome but always arriving on time.

Shortly after her company's exit, a knock raps at Shadowheart's door. Sentry Baxta has returned, delivering a metal case holding the artifact sans hand.

"Very good. Send Nocturne here, tell her to bring the agreed texts. She'll know what I mean."

The artifact appears dull and inert in the iron box. Underneath, Shadowheart finds the accompanying report penned by the leader of the artifact mission.

The abandoned Lathanderian temple resides exactly as informed–a day's travel North, one way, from Baldur's Gate. It lies in great stages of disrepair. We encountered resistance from an adventuring party spelunking the ruins. Most fell quickly, but the cleric persisted, barricading himself in a collapsed hallway with the artifact. We extracted him with 3 satchels of smokepower.  

In lieu of slaying him where he stood, we hope the esteemed Mother Superior accepts the offering of this sun sheep for slaughter. It seemed appropriate as we return the morning of a Nightfall Feast, artifact most literally 'in hand.'

In addition, below is an inscription carved into the plinth that held the artifact. Likely Morningfool drivel. Lamona insisted on its inclusion below.

Siphoned unbidden from the setting sun From its veins a new dawn shall rise A soul unchained A favor gained The worthy may claim their prize

Haughty gods and their riddles. Shadowheart turns her focus back to the artifact and dwells in the irony. A successful artifact retrieval mission. One that was truly divined by the Nightsinger herself. Rumors had been spreading of a powerful artifact lying in the catacombs of an abandoned temple to the sun god. What better way to undermine hopeful heretics than to snatch the prize from under their noses? Hide the Morningfool's sacred trinket forever in shadow where the sun will never see it again. Mirthful approval from her Lady rings in her ears.

Perhaps, however, it could be corrupted. Just as a Moonlantern could be reversed to harness the shadow weave, so too could a... what even is this? Carved ruby wings emerging from a golden crest of the sun. She turns the artifact over in her hands but it refuses to reveal its secrets. No inscriptions, no compartments. A gaudy paperweight. One that bathed her Nightfall ritual in uninvited sunbeams.

If a lowly cleric could channel his own divine power through it, what should happen if she did this herself? Surely if anyone can bring to heel an artifact of supposed legendary power, it is a god's Chosen. Shadowheart grasps the crest as the cleric did and channels the divinity of the Nightsinger.

It revolts.

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lady of sorrows

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I want Shadowheart to tie me up and kneel over my face so she can make my mouth useful

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The most beautiful minds of our generation are posting fan fiction on archiveofourown.org

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BG3's biggest flaw is that I can't take every cat i see and give it to Shadowheart

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my plot outline has officially entered the it’s not a phase, mom! stage, where it rejects all structure and insists it’s better off as vibes and aesthetic mood boards.

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Ooh thanks for the tag @optiwashere

Last song: "Portrait of a Dead Girl" by The Last Dinner Party

Last book: Lights Out by Navessa Allen

Last film: Nosferatu (2024)

Last TV show: I don't really watch TV, but my partner has been making me watch the Try Guys' Without a Recipe series with her 😂

Looking forward to: fencing friday

Last thing I googled: how to make the text in discord messages smaller bc I always forget. (-# [message])

I'll tag... @callmelyrus @knightdelt @jainavogt @bonechillen

I was tagged by @gaeldricge :) but I'm starting a new post instead of the reblog chain

Last song: The Great Despair from the fictional boy band from Warframe 1999 lolol

Last book: I'm reading A Deadly Education

Last film: The Princess Bride :)

Last TV show: I don't even know. probably Arcane

Looking forward to: tonight my husband is making kale salads

Last thing I googled: 'how long cramps after iud' 😞

tagging - @tetoman, @optiwashere, @mischiefwife, @ladyinthebluebox

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feeling particularly shartpilled lately and everytime i look at her i am engrossed by her orbs

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you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

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I am for real when I say that hrt improves your life. Everything is easier, everything feels brighter, maybe it won't cure all your problems or depression, but if you're going to be depressed anyways why not do it with hrt? Instead of putting it off as a thing in your future, make the future now. Don't die waiting. Get your hrt.

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someone: hey I noticed this thing you did in your writing!

me, kicking my feet up flirtatiously: oh??? do you want to hear my thoughts on why I did that? do you want a play-by-play of the language choices in every related sentence? do you want an exhaustive breakdown of The Themes???

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i sit down to write and suddenly i am the most distracted human alive. the chair is uncomfortable. my coffee is too hot. my playlist isn't quite the vibe. i need to research what victorian houses smelled like in 1872 for exactly 45 minutes even though my story takes place in space. and yet the moment i'm trying to fall asleep? every single sentence i've ever needed just lines up perfectly in my brain like some kind of creative parade i'll never get back.

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This is really really good

Ever thought what Shadowheart would be like as a sexy, dommy mechanic? This fic may be for you. Shameless smut and engine grease 😂