#there are two genders selune and shar

[ravel-puzzlewell]

can we talk about shadowheart tho. her writing absolutely baffles me. like. when she admits she's shar's cleric, she gives u a speech about how shar is misunderstood and that like she's all about exposing bad ppl, toppling corrupt governments, using shady methods to get shit done, etc.

cool, so she believes that shar achieves good goals, so like. to me it seemed that her arc would be about realizing how it's not true, becoming disillusioned in shar, cue good old thats me in the corner losing my religion etc etc

and it just never happens? like we see a lot of evil shit shar has done all over the place and shadowheart never questions it, never even tries to rationalize the answers to keep her faith, its like she just doesn't care. and we as a player can't confront her either, we can't say shadowheart do you think shar successfully utilized girlpower when she cursed entire region with radioactive shadows and split it's spirit in half? instead we find like. shar's torture device secret chamber and shadowheart goes awww i wanna be a dark justiciar so baaaaaad

and then. then at culmination, at scene where she's deciding to kill aasimar or not, you can't give her arguments. you can't be like look at everything that shar has done all over this place, do you still believe this is for greater good? what greater good can justify this? what higher purpose is there in senselessly killing a prisoner again and again?

no you can only say like. you can't allow your goddess to control you! what do you meeean. like??? this isn't how faith works. clerics supposed to like. BELIEVE in the same things their god does. so far shadowheart was pro-everything shar-related she saw. she's like. enthusiastically into it. even if she's brainwashed, she still very much WANTED to be dark justiciar. and now it's all - oh, its shar "controlling" her. like. Shadowheart even said that shar's head nun or whatever told her that she isn't ready to become dark justiciar. This is very much shadowheart's own initiative. Why is it framed around like listening to yourself, instead of changing BELIEFS?

and THEN. after she doesn't kill. aasimar says. "Don't you find it oh so curious you would spurn your Dark lady? Perhaps you feel a stirring of the truth already" and then later reveal that shadowheart was like. selunite kidnapped by shar ppl. and this is why she didn't kill aasimar. WHICH??

like apparently shadowheart is the first to show mercy in a century not because she had a chance to live outside of cult for a while, meet and befriend new people and broaden her worldview, realizing her cults doctrine is false. no no no. she did it bc she's just INHERENTELY a good person. she just like. had intrusive thoughts urging her to be good. she just needed listen to herself. bc she's actually a selunite and not sharran. and like, all other dark justiciar apparently are just inherently evil and it was never possible for them to choose not to kill.

like how do you take a perfectly serviceable narrative about cult member escaping brainwashing due to being able to socialize outsife of her cult and instead make it about Selunite essentialism.

[four-leaf-loco]

I've seen absolutely not enough Omegaverse Gale/reader (or Tav) fics and so I will becometh the giver of fruits.

A Breath Forever Kept

Gale/Reader (NSFW | 🔞)

Tags under cut

Breeding kink, heats, pitifully short sex cause lets be real if the effects of heat were real sex would be so short... BUT ITS NOT ABOUT THAT it's about the DEVOTION, gender neutral terms but also not beta read I wrote this on my phone in one go so read at own hornyyy risk friends

Act2 spoilers too so BEWARE

You poke at the fire from under the blanket you stole from Gale's tent. It still smells like him, parchment of looted books and his musk. The part you have tucked over your scraped knees is easily sniffed at absently. The iron fire poker you hold grows heavy while the crickets and frogs chirp with their delicate songs of love.

"Growing comfortable, my love? Are you in need of any more nesting materials? Blankets, capes, robes-" Gale pauses as you pull him down to kneel besides you in the dirt.

Karlach whistles teasingly and the two of you blush. "Just sit with me." You ask of him.

"Easily, and may I say: enthusiastically done." He smiles, pulling closer to you and wrapping his arm around your waist. You smile back at him feeling warmer already. "And your heat? Has it erupted yet?" He asks hushed, the twinge of barely concealed eagerness in his voice making your insides twist and squeeze. His pupils blow wide, no doubt getting a whiff of your fresh release of pheromones.

"Not quite yet..." You murmur, nose burying into his soft tunic collar. Setting the poker down to wrap around completely against Gale's torso. It's so soft and warm, his body sturdy like most alphas. He pets your back and runs his other hand over your forehead to check your temperature. His every touch pulls a shiver from your core.

You can hear Karlach lament about wanting the touch of an omega, and Astarion scoffing. Lae'zel offers a comment from her infinite githyanki wisdom, "Quiet, beta, for the touch of even an istik omega can quell a gith alpha. You know not of the power held-"

"That's quite enough, we're already disturbing those two love birds from their little courting ritual." Shadowheart scoffs. The conversation ensues to other albeit similar topics and easy laughter.

You relax at the banter of your friends, feeling safe despite the lack of a truly safe nest. Gale's tent will have to do. Being the only omega in the party is difficult, well asides from Isobel, but her heats are well managed by her goddess' will over cycles. Isobel's alpha lover, Aylin, gave Gale a stern warning, something about Selune's wrath if he fails to protect those Selune blesses most, especially since you had saved her and Shadowheart from the grasp of Shar. Gale gave her a full hearted promise to never betray your heart. A promise he gave to you earlier under Moonrise.

It was quite handsome of him, to assert himself against the threat of Aylin's wrath. She could easily break him but alas...

"Take us to your tent, Gale." You whisper into his neck. His hands exit the blanket, scooping you up into his arms. He smiles charmingly as ever as you wrap your arms around his neck to stroke his locks and aching glands. His pheromones puff out in excitement, "I promise you a night of fully fulfilled needs and freely granted wants in our tent." He whispers.

You kiss his neck glands and his hands tighten around the softness of your thigh. Your muscles are relaxed from his ministrations. He's all you need in this moment, through the night, and forever beyond that.

The tent had been set up further away than usual to give the two of you more privacy. You can still see the glow of the fire from this distance but the escalating conversation can only vaguely be heard. Everyone begrudgingly agreed that leaving the real vicinity of camp was dangerous seeing as their enemies still lurk. With the two of you distracted by passions driven by heat it would leave you two unawares.

"Ready, my love? Anything else you need from me before we begin our intrepid night of bonding?" He asks and you shake your head. You had set up refreshments and food with Gale earlier as he dote on you.

"I'm ready." You whisper, nibbling his neck, "Anything you'll give me."

"Gods, you're everything. I'd give you the yolk of the world to consume, if only you'd ask for it."

"I don't want the world, I just want you." You sigh, "You are a greater treasure than you think, Gale Dekarios." The man in question blushes and squeezes his eyes shut; pushing his face into your neck. When he reconstitutes his tempered arousal he sets you and himself into the tent. You're set on the small nest Gale had secretly made for you, and you huff. This man is truly a romantic. He takes your hand in his, kissing each finger and several times on your palm. He trails his finger down you wrist, then holding your hand. His other hand moves up to stroke with a single deft finger to your chin and down your neck.

It pulls waves of heat from your core like the moon and tides. His cock twitches in his night pants, and you see it in your lower periphery. You touch the bulge, pulling Gale further into your orbit. He falls on his hands and knees over you, sniffing at your neck desperately. His warm breath puffs in time with your pounding hearts. You want to steal his breath, kissing him voraciously like a starving artist trying to please the Goddess Sune with your new masterpiece. You leave your bite marks on his neck, marking him with your love and your claim. He returns the favor, hands working to undo the buttons of your shirt and pants. He's ravenous, and you tell him so, pulling a laugh from him so husky and sweet.

You free his cock from his pants. It springs up and the heat from it radiates onto your stomach. His own shudders at your touch. His muscles clench and release.

"Let go, take me, breed me. Make me yours completely Gale." You pray to him, beg him like you're on death's door, your last hope looming over you with equal need and devotion. He gives into instinct, lifting your hips to meet his and nudge his head against your wet hole. It's so slick due to your heat, already marking your nest with it. The slick cooling against your thighs. "The one folly of heats is that I do not need to worship you." He laments, "But Gods-" he cuts off as he enters you, for once his thoughts interrupted and stolen from him, mind smothered by you.

His nose buried into your hair he presses further until his hips greet yours and his hands press divots into your flesh. They flex in time with your thighs shaking around Gale's own as they propel his cock into your willing, no, eager form. The tadpoles in your brains link your minds and share the pleasure you're feeling. His hips stutter out feeling the warmth of your gut in his, and the plain need for him to claim you as his omega. He bites into your neck glands, the tips of his canines sending bliss through you, and orgasm shaking your core and bringing him to his own end. Returning the claim makes his hips buck uselessly as he gasps, hands gripping your hips to grind your bodies together as he knots your hole. It's extra warm when he fills you with his seed, forgetting for a moment the herbs you'll take come morning to be enveloped by the bliss of being bred by your alpha.

"When we reach Waterdeep, when this is all over;" he pauses to catch his breath, "I'll make sure to treat you to the mating you deserve. Our lovemaking accompanied by the piano and the aroma of our favorite candles. A proper nest I'll make for you." Panting he kisses your hand, starting with your pinky and making his way lazily over to your thumb. Kissing your palm, then your wrist. "I've never been as utterly devoted as I am to you. Look at me, for the second time tonight wishing to put a ring on your finger."

"Gale..." You respond weakly, wishing nothing but to return the sentiment but words escape you. All you can do is give a dreamy smile. Gods, it feels like a dream.

He helps you get the most comfortable in the nest you can be as the knot calms. The stretch is intense, but the pain is indiscernible with the addled state of your mind due to heat. All you know is a foggy state of euphoria.

He situates you on top, secure in his arms and your weight pressing downwards, further connecting your cores. His arms make sure the connection is comfortable, as lax for you as possible.

The night wanders onwards as you enjoy your heat with your mate. Over and over again you'll make love. Whimper and scream out your devotion as the others try to sleep. Gale quiets you with kisses though it pains him to have to do so. To silence such a beautiful creature, a handsome visage.

When morning comes your heat extinguishes with the night. You wake with Gale fast asleep. His arms are around you, protecting you best he can with his body against the entrance to the tent. The morning light is bright and warm, casting liquid gold onto your forms. You feel his seed dried against your thighs and hole, sighing in bliss at the knowledge that he had come inside many times, knotting you. Loving you. He stirs as you do, his instincts in tuned with yours now more acutely now that you're mated. He smiles as his eyes crack open.

"The light of morning illuminates your welcome sight." He says with a handsome morning grumble. His scent smells chuffed, happy. Content.

"We should get married." You blurt.

Gale coughs in surprise.

"You said you wanted to last night." You tease, hand reaching up to playfully tug at a lock of hair.

"Of course I'd want nothing more than to marry you. But perhaps we wait for a more opportune time. Back at my tower at Waterdeep- wait until it's our tower. Until we are properly settled." He placates as he grooms your hair with his fingers.

You give a fake pout, tugging a bit harder than you maybe should. "That's acceptable, I suppose... But you can't stop me from ring shopping when we reach Baldur's Gate proper." You tease.

"I can't say I would be upset at that prospect. I for one will be waiting to commission you a respectable Waterdhavian proposal ring." He says with a playful, but equally serious, lift to his voice.

You sigh in bliss. "What more could I ever ask for?"

"Maybe-" he starts, but you catch him in a kiss.

It continues until Halsin comes to check in on the two of you.

"I was sent to ask if you are interested in joining the group to Rivington? Though, I doubt it if last night was any indication." He chuckles and you groan.

"Thank you, friend, but we will be staying in today." Gale answers, stroking your head with a bit of a chuckle. You know he's eager to show off his claim to the other alphas, it's only natural. But it's also natural to want to keep you safe in the nest until you have recovered.

Gale sighs, content. His body fully relaxes again but awake and aware. He stares down at you. You look at him. The urge to mate has largely subsided, the heat short because of the bonding. His eyes gleam with warmth of the sun, like beautiful cracked marbles filled with hopes and dreams. He reaches to close the tent fully, keeping your scents trapt inside and his eyes darkened like endless pools of devotion.

He arches a brow at your silent observation, kissing you again to steal your breath.

You count it stolen, and forever kept.

[beesneedswords]

Moon Maiden

Shadowheart Selune ending. 🪷

A larger build, any gender, but a Selune Paladin

Masterlist

Shadowheart lays on the floor of your newly bought house she has been struggling with the events of the past few months. Now that she’s free of Shar, finding out who she really is has taken toll on her. She stares at the ceiling seeming to ponder something.

"What should we do now?" she asks,"I think I am done adventuring for this lifetime."

You think for a moment, "We could get jobs, help rebuild the city."

"What job would you get? I think I will be a healer. I am pretty good at it."

"I might join the guard. I'm pretty good at it.”

She laughs a little remembering how little she liked you at first. Shadowheart was a cleric of Shar, you were a paladin of Selune, neither having any interest in the other. Until you found she wasn't as heartless as the goddess she served, she found you weren't a pushover. She later admitted that she was happy you eradicated evil instead of trying to save it, it kept her from getting hurt as often.

Over the next several weeks the two of you go around Baldur’s Gate asking for some side work. The healers need help, so Shadowheart works half the day at one across town and then the other half almost right next door. You, however, can’t find work as a guard for now. Instead you find work in the new construction of the city. Surprising only to yourself, you are actually very good at it. The two of you work from dawn to dusk, only seeing each other for dinner. Shadowheart always gets home first and a warm meal, most of the time an ever revolving stew, greets you.

“A patient gave me some potatoes and a bit of ox for helping them, so I added those to the stew.” She says as she sets a bowl on the table for each of you.

You smile holding up a half dozen rolls Duke Ravengard had made and handed out to everyone who is rebuilding the city. Shadowheart smile grows. This is the first time in months you have had bread. Not that you haven't had the chance to, but the shops are closed by the time the two of you are able to get home.

Each of you have a roll and a bowl of soup, just to keep the soup never ending and have bread for tomorrow. You light the bedroom fireplace while Shadowheart gets ready for bed. She climbs into bed and you join her soon after. She turns to you and brushes her fingers through your hair, you close your eyes enjoying the intimate nature of it.

"How long do you think it will take to rebuild?" She asks.

You think for a moment, "It's been eight months now, we're making good time. I'd say by a year. We have just two blocks left to do, but that's where the most rubble is."

"We have started to slow down at the clinics. Most of our patients have persistent injuries from the attack and some construction injuries."

"That's good. Maybe soon you can cut out of of the clinics and have a little while to yourself."

She stops combing her hands through your hair for a moment before starting again. It's gotten longer, when once it was to your shoulders it is now several inches past. Her's now reaches past her waist and black has started to grow from her roots again. She has stopped wearing it the way she used to and now wears it in a tight bun while she works, or loose when she's at home. You think she looks more elegant, more beautiful when it's down. You open your eyes again and see her are closed, and she is softly humming. You admire her for a while before you notice she's stopped brushing your hair and her song has disappeared. Her hand still lays on your head, but she is fast asleep.

You take her hand and kiss the palm before setting it down by her. You slowly make your way out of bed to grab a couple extra blankets and put out the candles. You place one of the blankets Astarion had mended on her before sliding back into bed and placing another one on yourself. Just as quickly as Shadowheart fell asleep, so did you.

In the morning you awaken before she does, the fire is out and the air is colder than the morning before. You warm up some milk and cook two eggs and a couple sausage. You place one of each on two rolls before going to wake her. When you reach the stairs Shadowheart is standing atop them with a blanket around her shoulders. You hold up the small meal you made and she smiles before making her way to you and taking the food. The two of you get dressed and walk to the other side of the city. You drop her off at the clinic and make your way a few blocks farther to the site. The day goes by as normal.

When night finally comes and you are finally home, you open the door and aren't greeted as normal to Shadowheart placing dinner on the table. Instead one of the other healers is standing at the door waiting for you. You fear the worst, somehow Shar has come back for her or she was attacked by a patient.

"She is still at the clinic." The woman says, "You need to come see her. We aren't sure what has happened. She just froze while working on a patient."

The two of you make your way back to the clinic, only two buildings down. You see her, Sat in a chair just staring into nothingness tears slowly falling down her cheeks. You crouch in front of her just saying her name.

"What happened? Who was she working on?" You ask and the woman points to an older man who looks similar to her father. You nod before going back to Shadowheart, "Let's go home."

You scoop her up with both arms and carry her to the door. The cold wind seems to wake her up and she gasps. She clutches onto you and buries her face in your chest. When you get home you set her into a chair and hand her a large bowl of stew before sitting yourself with some.

She eats slowly, clearly exhausted from trauma she'd just relived. The woman never told you how long she had been like that. When she finishes you wash the bowls and lead her up the stairs, taking your time to help her undress and into night clothes. You lay her in bed and light the fire.

When you finally make your way into bed she mumbles, "He looked just like him. Some memories came back and I felt like I couldn't move or I'd pass."

You comb through her hair, "I know. They showed me, I'm so sorry, Shadowheart."

She scoots closer to you, laying her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You continue to brush through her hair until you both fall asleep.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Fuckboys

As I may have mentioned, I occasionally dip my toe into Reddit. Sometimes this shows me the absolute shitstorm of humanity. However, given that I very strongly curate my online experience, often I see said shitstorm with a whole lot of people making fun of it.

Like, today there was a post on the subject of Baldur's Gate 3 - a screenshot of this guy (and it had to be a guy) who was stating that "all these girlbosses effortlessly killing all in their path is unrealistic because they're WOMEN" and something about how this amount of strong women is "destroying normal gender roles and lowering the testosterone of men and making them weak, and this will reduce our military strength and be a real problem if World War 3 ever happens". Which ... was getting a lot of laughs. And one person was asking, "Wait ... where are these girlbosses in the game, exactly?" - I'm assuming largely being facetious, or deciding that we weren't going to count companions (because obviously it's not exactly easy to defeat all foes depending on game difficulty chosen). And of course everyone flagged up all the female companions and Isobel and Aylin (because Aylin wrecked shit UP) and so on and so forth.

...Which made me the first person to point out that almost every deity (or wannabe deity, in at least one case) that we have direct encounters or personal relationships with as a squad are goddesses. Vlaakith. Mystra. Shar. Selune. And, I mean, with Mystra it's all, "My boy-toy did something irredeemably stupid and he is now at my mercy because without my intervention he is going to literally explode", so that must really freak out a fuckboy, having a woman (godly power notwithstanding) having a man at her mercy.

...Which made me the first person to flag up Mizora. She has the upper hand with Wyll at all times, even when it doesn't look like she does (*coff*specificmomentinact2*coff*), and thus Wyll is utterly at her mercy because ... well, he hasn't got the brains the gods gave a string bean when it comes to navigating contract law (not that I blame him, given the circumstances of the original pact, but seriously, neither his INT nor his WIS are exactly stellar). And that, of course, lead to "And then there's Zariel, who is literally ruling the Hells just now".

Of course, someone else did flag up that I'd left out the Absolute, but I honestly hadn't remembered people using "she/her" for the Absolute, so there you go. I mean, given what the Absolute is, gender presentation is a crap-shoot at best, but if that's what she's telling her pawns, fine.

Either way, see, I'm obviously perfectly happy about this. It's not like there's a shortage of powerful men in this whole situation. Cazador. Raphael. Lorroakan. Balthazar. Gortash. Ketherick. Nere. Dror Ragzlin. ...Though now that I think on it, two out of the three generals you kill in the goblin camp (or knock unconscious if you want to try getting Minthara into the party) are women.

I mean ... is it wrong that I'm kind of living for the tears and wailing and gnashing of teeth of pissed-off fuckboys maddened to the point of weird conspiracy theories like "strong wimminz in muh vidya games makes men WEAK and we will LOSE WARS"? Like, they've driven me nuts for decades, and I guess it's nice to see they're driving themselves crazier than they drive any of us.

Now, if anyone needs me, I'll be in bed, in preparation for tomorrow's plan of "get the usual work done and probably end up having to deal with Elminster in my leisure time, yay".

[cloudbatcave]

Scavenging

The temple of Selune was not only beautiful for its spacious design and religious murals; it was a place of peace. Warm cocoa smells wafted through its space, and the pews were old, worn wood shiny with years and use. 

No one bothered Heskel as she slid into her usual reading spot, for once without a book in her hand. She didn’t hold anything, worried it would fall from her shaking fingers.

She didn’t want to see words right now. She didn’t feel she could read. The words would be nonsense, even the neatest scribe’s hand a mess of jumbled ink and meaningless punctuation.

Part of her wanted to go to a priest, confess, throw her soul on the mercy of her goddess and the people chosen to enact her will. That would be the right thing for a monk to do.

Hasn’t she always been a proper monk? A good daughter? A responsible sister? All the things she built after she fell from the tree trying to look at the moon, and she knew she’d never be a famous adventurer like her father?

Perhaps he would understand. He’d gotten rid of a cult of demon worshippers once. Somehow she doubted he’d managed that by asking nicely and bribing them with sweets like he did her and her siblings.

Good daughters didn’t murder people.

She’d panicked. After the assault of the striges, teetering on the brink of death, she’d been too desperate to hold back. 

It didn’t help knowing they would’ve killed her too. That was the rational argument; the one she would’ve given anyone else, the one worth listening to. The goddess would forgive her for having to fell an enemy.

But did she deserve Selune’s forgiveness? Would the moon think her as disdainful as Shar, dark as the sister she must constantly defeat? The goddess had once struck Tyche in two to save the good part of her, effectively killing her...but that was a divine necessity. She was just a woman.

A woman who’d killed a tengu. She didn’t even know their name, or gender, or anything except that they’d served Xanathar. It would be so easy to pretend they’d never existed at all. Just another dead crow mouthing stolen words, not a person. 

She bent over, nauseous. 

No. She couldn’t. 

So easy.

Much, much too easy.

Her breathing became rapid, shallow.

The last time. The only time.

But it wouldn’t be, would it? Not with what they were trying to do. What if enemies came for her or the others? What if the gangs captured and attacked people again? What if the Emerald Conclave asked it of her?

With difficulty, the tiefling swallowed. She forced her breathing to slow.

Fumbling, she pulled out a small notebook, pressed between the heavier tomes. She got out her pen and ink.

This is the confession of Heskel Diligence Goettick. I am a murderer. I may have to kill again. Maybe I’m unworthy in the eyes of Selune now. But if the goddess will still have my tainted soul, I will serve...

The ink splattered, and she tore a few holes in the page. It didn’t matter; no one else would read it. She’d write everything, then she’d burn it. 

No atonement could fill the void Heskel had left. Sometimes when she smiled at Adrian, she felt like a fake. She knew she was weak compared to her siblings; they didn’t worry about this like she did. Dosime and Squibb were practical, Bee just as much. She couldn’t tell them about this.

As Selune fought alone against Shar, so too must she endure her guilt by herself. It was what she deserved.