#Shar's gauntlet is killing me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

petit-etoile · 1 year ago

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in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

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‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends — He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink — ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m — Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are — Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you — to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone — ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion — ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can — ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest — yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but — I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic

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tcustodisart · 2 months ago

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how did connie react/feel when the party entered the house of grief and found out all about the horrors? i hope he comforted shadowheart a lot afterwards :((

First of all, sorry it took me so long, I wanted to do the House of Grief quest to refresh my memory (and thank god i did that because I have some fresh thoughts).

It was very similar to the Gauntlet of Shar for him, he went through an rollercoaster of different emotions while being there. First of all, he felt disgusted that Viconia even suggested a deal of giving Shadowheart to her. Killing her was probably the first and only kill where he 1) let himself enjoy it 2) let wrath take the best of him. Killing Viconia just once is not enough. But there were some nice stuff too. Finally meeting Nocturne, the only friend Shadowheart had in the moment where she needed one the most. Discovering her hiding spot. Being very proud of her when she made the decision to free her parents all by herself. He felt sad when he saw how overwhelmed with everything she it but he also was grateful how many friends she made during that journey, friends that will help and support her. (Honestly, taking Jaheira and Minsc there is the best possible option, they have additional dialogue with Viconia and there's this thing Minsc says that made me teary eyed. I love Minsc so much.)

as for a doodle, very rare, covered in blood, angry connecticut man

#ask me anything #connecticut tav #bg3 #finally back to answering asks!

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doberbutts · 5 months ago

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Fuck me I think I need to scrap about 16 hours of game play. My game bugged and Raphael never talked to Astarion about his scars even though he was IN MY PARTY and I thought he'd pop up after I killed Yurgir so I did that and all the fucking gauntlet of Shar stuff and checked my quests and NOPE. Says he left without mentioning it so we have to go ask Cazador. Which I think means he breaks up with me the second I step into Act 3.

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moonselune · 5 months ago

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Spoiler for Shadowheart’s Quest ‘!

Could you write a little something where Shadowheart instead of asking us to be official after the Shar Trials she’s doubting herself even more to be good enough for Tav so she is turning away from us? A little hurt/comfort? I miss her 🥹💕

I just wanna wrap her up in a blanket give her a smooch and a glass of wine xoxo

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart x reader | Doubt creeps in

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The atmosphere in the shadow cursed lands was oppressive, the air thick with a palpable tension. The trials of Shar had been grueling, pushing both you and Shadowheart to your limits. But as you emerged from the depths of the Gauntlet, you felt a sense of relief and triumph. But Shadowheart's demeanor had changed; she seemed distant, her eyes clouded with doubt and uncertainty.

When Shadowheart collapsed in pain from her lashing from Shar you caught her and held her close. When she awoke she abruptly pushed you away, as if you were electric to the touch. You didn't let it get to you though, you saw what she had just been through.

As you made your way back to camp, you noticed how Shadowheart kept to herself, even more so, her usual overconfident demeanour replaced by a cold detachment. Concern gnawed at you, and you held off as long as you could, trying to give her the space she needed, but when you noticed she had actually started avoiding you, you decided it was time to confront her. You found her standing by the edge of the camp, staring aimlessly into the darkness.

"Shadowheart," you called softly, approaching her. She didn't turn to face you, but you saw her shoulders tense.

"I need to be alone," she replied, her voice strained.

Ignoring her request, you moved closer until you were standing beside her. "Something's bothering you. Talk to me."

She let out a heavy sigh, finally turning to look at you. Her eyes were filled with a storm of emotions—fear, doubt, and something else you couldn't quite place. They were red and puffy, indicating she had just been crying.

"I'm not good enough for you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "After everything…after what I've done, what I've been through…I don't.. I don't.. deserve you."

The weight of her words hit you hard. You reached out, but she flinched away from you. Your heart broke but you persisted, you much like someone trying to aid a wounded animal, you weren't afraid to get hurt.

Despite her resistance you managed to gently cup her face in your hands, making her look at you. "Shadowheart, don't say that. You've been through so much, and yet you're still here, fighting, trying to do what's right. That makes you stronger than you realize."

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes, and she clawed at your hands weakly, a half attempt to push you away. "You don't understand. I've done terrible things. I was ready to kill, to betray… How can someone like me be worthy of your love?"

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to convey your feelings and you could feel your own tears welling up in your eyes.

"Shadowheart, we all have our demons. We all have things we're not proud of. But it's how we choose to move forward that defines us. You've shown time and again that you're capable of great kindness and bravery. You've saved me more times than I can count. You are worthy of love—my love."

Her tears began to fall freely again and she looked at you with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "But what if I falter again? What if I make the wrong choices?"

You brushed a tear from her cheek with your thumb, your heart aching at the sight of her vulnerability, and you had to pull yourself together, for her. "Then we'll face it together. You're not alone in this, Shadowheart. I'm here, and I always will be. I love you, regardless of your past or your mistakes. I love you for who you are, right now, in this moment."

A sob escaped her lips, and she collapsed into your arms, clinging to you as if you were her lifeline. You held her tightly, your own tears starting to fall now. "We'll get through this," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Together."

For a long while, you stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace. Slowly, the tension in her body eased, and she looked up at you with a newfound determination in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don't deserve you, but I'll do my best to be worthy of your love."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I'll do my best to show you every day just how much you mean to me."

Shadowheart's lips curved into a small, tentative smile. "I love you," she said softly, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and hope.

"I love you too," you replied, leaning in, kissing gently.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh babygirl Shadowheart I love you, hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xoxox

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart imagines #shadowheart bg3 #bg3 imagines #shadowheart baldurs gate 3

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lakemojave · 5 months ago

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Tonight at 6pm Pacific: The Direct Actors, A Baldur's Gate 3 "Adventure" pt. 17!

It's here! We're approaching the grand climax of act 2 as we attack Moonrise Towers and fight through Ketheric Thorm's forces. Hope Dhudlei's gonna feel alright killing his once best friend! Come see @radiofreederry play Dhudlei Durite, elf paladin, my friends Nana and @mayflowers429 play Leviathan, Dragonborn Dark Urge Monk, @caputvulpinum play Micah Harper, Tiefling Cleric, and me play Delilah "Mama D" Harper, Halfling Bard!

Art by @terrafey, recap under the cut. See y'all then!

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THE STORY SO FAR: On the way to a union rally, Delilah "Mama D" Harper and her grandson Micah were abducted and taken aboard an ilithid nautiloid, which they escaped with mysterious dancer Leviathan and self-proclaimed "Champion of Ilmater and Paladin of Good" Dhudlei Durite. Each infected by a mind flayer tadpole, but so far immune from transforming into mind flayers themselves, The Direct Actors, as the party have come to be known, have been pushed to their breaking point in the Shadow-Cursed lands, and now look to break the power of Ketheric Thorm and end the curse once and for all...

LAST TIME: The Direct Actors, exhausted from the horrors they had experienced in the Gauntlet of Shar, briefly camped back in the upper floors, where they reunited with Dhudlei. While talking with Dhudlei about what had happened, Micah admitted to Dhudlei his terrible childhood, which ended with his parents' seeming abandonment of him. The two also had a conversation about necromancy, in which Dhudlei admitted his distaste for the art. Dhudlei gave a pep talk to the rest of the party, which Mama D was dismissive of, and the party returned to the depths.

After conquering the rest of the trials and enlisting the help of New Gale, the party entered the Shadowfell, Shar's domain, where they found the Nightsong, actually the demigod daughter of Selune, Dame Aylin. Though Shadowheart had been tasked to kill Aylin by her goddess, Mama D was able to talk her out of it, and the cleric became an apostate in the eyes of all Sharrans as a result. Aylin, freed and her strength restored, beseeched the Direct Actors to join her in taking the fight to Ketheric Thorm.

Emerging from the Gauntlet, the party made camp. Dhudlei and Leviathan spoke about memories, and Dhudlei offered to provide some details, based on a flier Dhudlei had found of Leviathan's old dancing troupe - an offer which Leviathan declined, for the time being, though Dhudlei affirmed that he was entitled to his memories. Leviathan also admitted to feeling regret for Alfira's death. Afterwards, Dhudlei and Mama D had a long conversation by the fire about Mama D's fears, and the anxieties that had been weighing on her since the Gauntlet.

Returning to Last Light Inn, Isobel told the Direct Actors that the Harpers had gone to assault Moonrise Towers, and the party resupplied before joining them there. The battle began on the ground floor, where the assembled forces defeated Absolute Z'rell and her cultists before advancing to the second floor, where Ketheric's necromantic ally Radija was quickly dispatched. In the lull before the final assault, Mama D confided in Micah the story of the first union she'd formed, and how it had all went wrong, including her own experiences attempting necromancy, in an effort to dissuade Micah from following that path. The party now rested, they prepared to launch their assault on Ketheric Thorm - with Dhudlei in particular steeling himself for a reunion with his former friend.

Will Dhudlei be able to bring himself to vanquish his dearest friend? Will more of Leviathan's past be uncovered? Will the truth of the Absolute be revealed? Will Mama D be able to overcome her growing anxiety about her own mortality and the legacy she will leave behind, a pressure that continues to mount daily? Find out in another exciting instalment of Baldur's Gate 3, starring the Direct Actors!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the direct actors #twitch #stream #shameless plugging

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eldritchelfwriter · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on a Shadowheart who kills her parents and trying to off-ramp from religion

"Reaching for you," the Dark Justiciar one shot spin-off of Shadowheart Begins is out and I have thoughts!

TW: Religious trauma

In the one-shot, Shadowheart misses the TWO possible off-ramps from religion: Nightsong and parents. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

Well, look, none of these fanfics are claiming to be textbook to real life, but real life can sure be useful to draw on. Because in real life, I missed several "off ramp" opportunities to leave religion and often people will ask me "why did you not leave sooner?"

The thing is, it's not just a matter of believing a thing and then not. It's so much more than that. When your entire identity is wrapped in a thing, you will be rebuilding from NOTHING. Right from "who even am I" - a question Shadowheart is continually struggling with, and that's even with the memory wipes aside. It is a really big thing to do, bigger than most people can really conceive of.

There was ONE major thing that made it possible to off-ramp when I did, that was not present at any other time. And that was, having a legit alternative support system available to me.

Consider this: a religion that, whether deliberately or not, kept me emotionally stunted with scarce internal resources to draw on, and made me very reliant on the religion and the people in it. If your only friends are either people inside the religion, or people you have made, as a point of pride, obnoxiously aware of your religious affiliations to the point of massively losing face, then where do you go? I was lucky I found some people where it was safe to be, with all my angst and questions without judgement, and who didn't need me to profess any which way or settle on any particular answer to support me in my problems and questioning.

Same for Shadowheart - the only people she has known and respected up until the nautiloid were Sharrans. She has been given thoughts and teachings that intentionally weaken her ability to push back against it. But at the same time, the post-nautiloid events give her the opportunity to build a new social support system that, depending on how you play, can give her sufficient internal resources to make that big decision against everything she knows.

And according to the internal game mechanics, points you accrue that build up things like TRUST and RESPECT have a signifcant impact on which way she goes. (Seriously, look up "nightsong points." There are specific decisions that accrue them leading to that big moment that influence what she would choose without interference).

So coming back to the one shot, how do I justify all the events up to the Gauntlet of Shar happening, and then Shadowheart making a different decision to in Shadowheart Begins?

So first, I don't. So it's not a spoiler to say my thoughts on that. But it's simple: Shadowheart reveals to everyone that she is a follower of Shar, and everyone (except for Tav) through act 1 and 2 was not as cool with it as she might have hoped. Thus, her support system is too weak. And the fastest way to drive someone deeper into the arms of their religion is to mock them and make them feel silly. So she misses off-ramp one and is pushed that little bit closer into the arms of Shar.

Why she misses off-ramp two is addressed in the fic so I won't explicitly say it here, but this post will probably give you some ideas, that may or may not be as written!

#baldurs gate fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowheart fanfic #baldurs gate shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #shadowheart fic #shadowheart bg3 #bg3 shadowheart

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aevallare · 21 days ago

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ok so there's this thing in the greek myth canon that's called aristeia. basically it's when a hero is ✨️blessed✨️ by their patron deity and goes on a rampage to end all rampages, and it starts with armor, greaves to spear. the spear is always the last element in place. so the hero kills e v e r y t h i n g and in this state could would should hurt a god. they kill someone important - a demigod or a big figure in the enemy army. usually this is a swan song. sometimes not. so when shadowheart throws the spear away and refuses to kill dame aylin. that. that is an INSANE moment. insane. and anyone who portrays this as the insane event it is. deserves everything.

anyway long story short i have. thoughts. and feelings. about your gauntlet of shar segment. typing this with shaking hands btw

oh, incredible. someone at last has seen my vision.

the whole point of the gauntlet of shar. to me. is that it's one of the cleanest subversions of purpose in the game. i genuinely love shadowheart's dark justiciar endings, but the poetry of her throwing the spear away, that it's at its heaviest in the moments before she makes her decision, of making the most important decision of her life--

that in choosing love and light, she loses everything. in her way, shar wins no matter what shadowheart chooses.

loss. it's inevitable. to have something, hold something - shadowheart appreciates it more than most. and dark and twisted though it is, that contrast - having spent all that time languishing in shar's clutches - doesn't that make everything she gains all the sweeter?

#asks #kindred

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administer-distractions · 11 months ago

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#just went back to redo the shit that got lost earlier today #literally the instant i finish the shar bullshit the game crashes #why why is it always this section of the game #ive had to redo this stupid fucking gauntlet so many fucking times #why is this happening to me?#why cant i ever remember to save #im going to go kill myself in front of larian studios

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ashprince-of-bel-air · 1 month ago

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Came Back Wrong: Part 6

Spooky season has helped me feel better, when I feel better I want to write, I hope this is okay, I did not really like my last chapter.

@emily-reading-fanfic

Astarion in his magically induced coma, showing no signs of improvement at all. Karlach had left the camp, no longer condoning the will of its new leader. Even Wyll had been brought to heel under the instructions of his new master like a scared pup, the new glint in Gale’s eye could scare even stronger men than him, the famed Blade Of Frontiers. The air in camp had hung heavy for a while now, no longer was it a place for people to have fun and be merry, no longer was the campfire a place for people to share a meal and reminisce the day, it was cold, no matter how hot the fire burned.

Gale now owned the camp and he knew it, he would strut confidently around the place knowing that nobody could stop him, one glare at Wyll would make him retreat into his tent, Gale know he wasn’t far off leaving now, he just had to bide his time until he left and then you would be his. Shadowheart and Lae’zel were easy to manipulate, whispering into Shadowheart’s ears that he could help he become a Dark Justiciar, help her to raise her station so that she may fully attend to the Dark Lady’s wishes, he would help her, after all he knew where the Gauntlet of Shar was, having read many books on the subjects of Gods and Goddesses. Shadowheart acquiesced in a second, that was all she desired in life, why would she turn down an opportunity to fulfil her life goal? Gale was surprised at how nonchalant Lae’zel was with the entire situation, in fact she even commended his newfound ruthlessness, a fact he tried to vehemently deny in front of the other camp mates, but in private he would seek Lae’zels advice on tactics for their enemies.

At the end of the day, the other camp mates were of no consequence to Gale, whether they left or stayed he did not care, he only cared about the little dove that he kept locked away in his cage, the once fierce beautiful warrior, one who would dive headfirst into battle, who now resided in his tent willingly. His plan had taken shape all too well, even by his estimations. The way he had broken you and made you so dependant on his was so perfect to him, he could not have expected a better outcome. You were just so compliant, so ready to believe his every word, he had expected to have to gaslight and manipulate you, yet you were ever so trusting, such a perfect little innocent dove.

His tent had become your refuge, a place you would hide away from your failures, your failure to keep Astarion safe and your failure to keep Karlach with you. Some days you were catatonic, some days you were fully lucid and ready to take on the world, on those days Gale would be there, telling you that you were not ready, reminding you in great detail how bad Astarions condition was, the injuries he had sustained, making it hard to move him. Those days he brought you to tears and you did not even realise he did it willingly, each one was an attempt to break you further, he wanted you subservient to him, to follow him blindly and to be at his beck and call, he wanted your unconditional and endless love, not a headfast warrior.

Gale would leave the tent every day, his excuse was that he had to protect the camp and retrieve food to keep you all safe and fed, each day you would nod silently at him from your shared bedroll, you knew he was doing this to keep you all safe, it wasn’t his fault that Karlach left. In reality, Gale was skulking the perimeters of the woods, hoping he would find another Gur to finish Astarion off, he could not kill Astarion himself, that would be too obvious, magic left traces and it could easily be traced back to him, no, he needed someone with an actual motive to kill Astarion, someone who the blame could easily be placed on. It had been a few days since Karlach left and each day Gale had yet to encounter a Gur, this fuelled his anger, an anger he brought back with him sometimes. His shoulders would be tense and when he entered camp it was like a dark cloud took over the sky, in his tent with you he was no better, you could feel the anger radiate off him, yet every time you tried to help he waved you away with a snappy voice and say it was because he could not find Astarion’s killer, a statement that was not a lie, he could not find a killer for him.

A few more days had passed, Gale’s anger was ready to explode, the vampire had spent far too long in this camp, even if he was only in a coma, yet Gale needed to be rid of him, yes he was not conscious and flirting with you, however, Gale’s twisted mind began to wander. What if you were secretly visiting Astarion when he was away, or what if Astarion gained consciousness and he took his new chance at life to be with you, or even worse, what if Astarion was pretending and you were having a sexual affair with him. Gale would not have it, each day made him angrier and paranoid by the minute, he needed to be rid of him, desperately. The anger finally slipped its way into his tent with you, if you ever asked to leave your request was shot down, vehemently. Gale would say to you, barely holding his anger and jealousy back.

“My Love. I know you want to leave but I cannot let you, danger is outside and I cannot risk it. You need to stay here where you are safe. With me. Always.” Gales eyes had become different, more erratic, he needed to be rid of the pale elf and soon. The next dawn Gale announced he would go scouting, he wanted to check how clear the area was and if it would be safe to move Astarion. In reality he wanted to expand his search and even pay someone to kill him so he could finally be rid of this disease of an undead elf.

Gale left early morning, leaving you softly asleep in his bed, waking up alone in his bedroom was not a new experience, he would often let you lay in undisturbed so you could ‘rest your mind and soul’ he was always kind like that. This was earlier than usual but you were used to being on your own, you had read all your books that you had brought with you and decided to read some of Gale’s, he was a man of knowledge and you wanted to impress him with the fact you could share an intellectual conversation with him. Your hands raked across his bookshelf softly, deciding what book you wanted to read until you passed the time, delicately tracing your fingertips amongst the spines of the books, finally stopping on one that was not pushed all the way in, this must have been the last book Gale had read.

Your fingers stroked the book before you pulled it from the shelf, it looked familiar somehow yet you shook that from your mind for now, wanting to read its contents to impress Gale. You read the title as you stroked the front of the leather bound book “The Gur and Their Hunting Habits”, a strange book for Gale to be reading but he was a man of intellect, he wanted to know everything he could about everything. You flicked through the pages half heartedly, not taking much attention until you came across a section on vampires, taking note that the section was dog eared as a bookmark. Your eyes went wide, reading the chapter you saw how this clan of people would hunt monsters, hell they even resembled the man you encountered 2 days before Astarion was attacked. By now your mind was reeling, you could not stop reading the book, even the injuries Astarion faced were in here, magical and almost impossible to cure. Why would Gale bookmark this?

Your entire world came crashing down in an instant, your realisation hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was the book you had seen Gale reading the day Astarion had been attacked. Gale was away that night because he ‘could not sleep’, Gale refused to go adventuring that day which was very out of character. You could not prove it but in your heart you knew Gale was behind it all. You sat there, emotionless, taking in all this information with the book open on you lap, the tent flaps opened softly beside you, you had not heard them as you sat there in shock until you heard a voice speak up.

“My love? Are you alright?” Gale swept softly through the curtains of his tent watching you read his book, he knew what you had seen.

You gulped before you spoke, you did not want to make a scene of this. “I am alright my heart, I have just missed you all day” You tried ever so hard to sound genuine, desperate for him to believe you, hoping his love for you would cloud his judgement.

Gale paced towards you, a darkness in his eye, he had seen the book you were reading, you had no time to close it or put it away. “well that’s good, I would hate for anything to happen to you my love, you have been through so much already” His voice was soft as he snatched the book from you and put it away. He sat before you and held your face in his hands, a threatening tone in his voice.

“You love me don’t you tav?” His eyes were manic, you saw him as he truly was for the first time since you brought him back, deranged and power hungry,. Now you had no one to defend you, he had helped you drive them all away slowly. You had nobody but him and he knew it.

You hung your head slightly before you took his hand softly in defeat, you saw no other option as you spoke in a shaky voice. “I love you my darling, I always will” Gale kissed your temple, hard and rough, knowing he had won, you were his and now you knew it.

"I Am yours and you are mine, my love."

#gale #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #galemance #dark!gale #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #dark gale #dark urge gale

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