He remembers, the way he usually can't, Timeline-adaptive universe actuation.
("The beautiful thing about this kind of timeline thing is that it's non-destructive," Booster Gold said, sometime, somewhere, some context. "The old timeline — the timeline we remember — is still there! It's fine! It's not in danger! And we're all still there, because, uh, we're not the originals. But they're fine!")
He's very conveniently sitting on his bed with his laptop. He keys in the commands that will bring up a certain hidden directory if it's there, then sets the computer aside and leans over to check the nightstand. Drawer, hidden panel… there, two manila folders, one battered and very full, the other newer and with plenty of space.
("We all know about the timeline-overwrite process Flash, and something about timeline-splitting and timeline-merging, right? All of those replace the old timeline in some way. But the timeline-adaptive process is different! It's more like, like one universe produces an incomplete copy of itself, but then it has to get additional bits of reality from other universes to make a complete picture, and it all mixes and matches, right? To make something new without destroying the old.")
He has a limited amount of time to do this, but he still grabs a pen and printed form and creates a new file in the directory. They aren't always both there.
The form has two columns — FIRST ANSWER I REMEMBER and VERIFIED. He starts on the first.
Name — Timothy Jackson Drake. Age — fifteen. ID — Robin. Parents — Jack and Janet Drake, and kind of Bruce. Year — 2016. Month — not coming to him.
Bart appears in a rush of air and a rattle of furnishings. "HeyTim. Rememberme?"
(The Flashes, unsurprisingly, are the most sensitive to these things. Sometimes Bart will offer a drive of data he's collected himself, but not this time, it seems.)
"Obviously to some extent," Tim says. He skips ahead down the form to the Bart / Impulse row, and checks the Alive box in the second column. Then he picks up his phone, lets muscle memory unlock it, and tries to look through the messages without seeing too much. "It's kind of fuzzy actually, so I'm not sure I did in my immediate— Here you are, we're friends here."
"Ohgood—thinkIdidn'texistintheimmediatesourse—IgottafindCassienow—" (He'll have checked on Kon first.)
And he's gone. Tim checks Not sure in the first column, and goes back up the form, quickly checking more boxes. Alive: Jack, Janet, Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Jason, and he thinks Barbara. Not sure: Cass, Steph, Kon, Bart, Cassie, Damian, Duke, Lucius, Bernard, Ives, Dana, Jim Gordon. Negative feelings: Jack, Janet.
Then it's on to events—
His phone rings — Dick. Tim answers. "Hey."
"Hey, Tim," Dick says, voice warm. "You good?"
"So far, so good. I'm still recording what I remember of the base universe. You're good?"
"Well, apparently my roof leaks, but everyone exists so far! I'll leave you to it. Love you."
Tim checks Dick off as Alive in the second column, but doesn't try to guess who else's well-being his brother has already verified. Besides, he's early in Dick's call list — both because Dick worries about him and because he's usually busy making notes and it will be a quick call.
(Dick's been making these calls since before Tim was cognizant enough to be gathering data. There's no real reason the Bats should be able to catch these things, but at least half of them have picked it up at some point. Of course then some of them put it right back down.)
Events. Yes for Jason's death, being Robin, Teen Titans, Oracle's existence, Jason's return, and No Nanny. No for Red Robin, any other mask name, Young Justice, a whole string of deaths — Janet, Jack, Steph, Kon, Bart, Damian, Dick sometimes Tim's life really sucks — and a bunch of other references, some of which ring a bell elsewhere and some of which don't (Clench, Quake, N.M.L., C19, Light, Rch, Jr, 16th, B Timestream, Derobining, R's intst., LOA sys, LOA base, Acheron, Spleen, Out, Trigon, Oz, D Ong. Frat., J Ong. Frat., Boom., Ric, Zur, 99, Gun Batman).
Job — school. Dating — none. Residence — is a little fuzzy, but he thinks Wayne Manor.
And back up to the top — number this form one higher than the highest number on archived forms. Tim scans the paper forms from the less full envelope and decides neither "a gazillion" (that Tim had been eight) nor "aleph-null" should count, never mind the upside-down smiley face, but fortunately the computer is less flexible in the input allowed on that line so he's able to number the form #54787.
(This means nothing in terms of counting actual iterations. There are at least four #44444 forms, and there can't be more than a couple thousand forms in the files. He has no idea. He numbers them anyway.)
Second column—
His phone beeps with what he recognizes unthinkingly as a 'mask business' tone and lets muscle memory unlock it (using his ring fingers). It's Oracle, asking everyone to confirm receipt. Tim confirms. According to the interface his ID is 'Red Robin'.
(There really isn't much point to immediately checking on everyone's status. Memories should calibrate to this universe within a few hours, at most a day, and it's not like there's anything to be done about it. But there's not a lot of point to the data-collecting either — he's not sure he's ever tried to do anything with the data — and he's not going to say anyone should just sit and worry until reality solidifies.)
Second column. He finds his wallet on the nightstand — Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Nineteen. Red Robin, as noted. Year — 2025. Month — October.
He could check the messages on his phone more to try to work out people's statuses, but since he has his computer anyway — Batfiles.
Parents — birth parents Jack and Janet Drake. Adopted by Bruce Wayne.
Jack and Janet are dead, but everyone else on the main list is alive — Sebastian Ives, Bernard Dowd, and Dana Winters aren't in the Batcomputer, but Tim finds them online. His phone suggests he regularly exchanges memes with Ives. He's not close with Bernard but they're old friends. Dana never married Jack.
Negative feelings requires sitting for a bit and letting himself feel this universe's Tim, the Tim he'll be fully in a few hours. There are stings of past hurts and disappointments from pretty much everyone, frustration and lingering wariness for Damian, and… huh, he's currently pissed at Jason for stealing his motorcycle and driving it into the harbor. But he seems to trust everyone he'd like to be able to trust, at least with the important things. The memory of Jack and Janet is complicated, but not as raw and betrayed as some timelines.
Events. Robin and Red Robin, yes… 'Drake' is ringing a vague bell. Both Young Justice and Teen Titans. Oracle obviously exists. Jason's death, yes, and return. Also Kon, also Bart, also Steph — no, wait, in this world Steph was badly hurt and gone for months but no one reported her dead, nice. He puts a question mark by Damian and Dick's deaths — Damian was revived by Lazarus Pit almost immediately and Dick's survival was only hidden from the family for a week, so while technically it should be yes it feels like no.
Bruce lost in the timestream and presumed dead, yes. De-Robining, yes (though his relationship with Dick seems solid). Ra's interest, unfortunately, but Tim seems to have hung onto his spleen this time, go him. Destroyed the League of Assassins' systems but not their bases. Daughter of Acheron… no.
His phone rings. Kon. Probably he's at the farm, or he'd just come in person. "Hey."
(Kryptonians aren't sensitive to it, in general, but somewhere sometime some Kon got left standing outside a timeline overwrite, and it's left echoes.)
Kon doesn't bother with greetings. "Do you know where my name came from. I remember getting named after a sitcom character and I remember getting named abomination but neither of those Superboys spent much time here and—"
"Let me check real quick." Tim doesn't have a full Kryptonian dictionary handy, but he's probably made a note about Kon. Going from everything else he's noted so far… "According to my records 'Kon' means 'young person' or 'adolescent', so my guess is it's from Superman?"
"Oh thank god."
"Rough landing?"
"Well, all the most important people remember me, so it's not that bad. You?"
"Pretty soft so far. And livelier than what I think was my last timeline."
"Yeah? Tell— Never mind, Ma's calling. See you later?"
"Weekend if not sooner," Tim agrees. He's not sure what day of the week it is, yet.
No ongoing fratricide attempts from Damian or Jason, no Ric (good), no Zur (good), yes his father was killed by and Tim came close to crossing a line with Captain Boomerang, there weren't ninety-nine cloning attempts but there were a dozen so he checks that anyway. Yes earthquake, yes something they'd called No Man's Land though it feels a little off. Yes, he's encountered his fucking future self Gun Batman. No year of solitary confinement with Mr. Oz. No infuriating test for his sixteenth birthday. Yes out as bisexual.
He's still not sure what Light, Rch, Jr, or C19 mean, so probably no on those, and Trigon definitely exists but Tim feels like that's not enough for a check there. He also feels like he'd probably regret thinking too hard about what would be enough.
Okay. That's events.
Job — R&D at Wayne Enterprises and sometimes Bruce's proxy with the WE board. He does have a high school diploma, but isn't in college at the moment.
Dating — no one. But! He's out as bisexual.
Okay. He submits the electronic form to the database and tucks the paper ones away again. If he sees them when he can't understand them he might throw them away. If they're in an unusually flexible universe he'll remember them later, and then he can see about some analysis.
He checks Red Robin's phone again, goes to Oracle's call for check-ins. Nightwing has checked in, Black Bat, Spoiler, Signal, Red Hood, Batwoman, Azrael, Batwing, Bluebird, Huntress — Penny-One confirms the Cave is in order and Robin is seeing to Bat-cow. Penny-One has also confirmed that Batman is in the study and resting peacefully, as expected.
The pictures on the wall rattle as Bart reappears. "Hey again, Cassie says you suck for having a universe without us again, but thanks for being out this time because she's figured stuff out here."
(Cassie started noticing not many rounds after Kon did, Tim thinks. It's probably because the rest of their quartet did and she got pulled along, but Donna is reportedly more sensitive than average, too.)
"I have no control over that," Tim says. Because he doesn't.
"Also you should probably tell Nightwing Wally isn't answering his calls because he can't remember who he's married to and he's freaking the fuck out but he'll probably be fine in a couple hours."
Tim winces. "Yes. Yes I should do that, right now."
"I'm gonna make the rest of the rounds."
"Maybe check on Kon again, he seemed rattled," Tim adds as he calls. "Hey, Dick, Bart says Wally isn't answering his phone because he can't remember who he's married to."
"Hoo boy," Dick replies. "Thanks for telling me. Is Kon okay? Apparently Jon showed up to see Damian distressed over adoptive siblings I think he's never had before and not knowing why he's so confused."
"When I talked to Kon it was just the usual stuff. I just sent Bart in that direction. Never?"
"I remember Chris, I do not remember Chris and Jon together."
(Tim does not remember Chris.)
He lets Dick go — he probably has more calls to make — and checks out the apartment. It's classy but comfy (compared to other apartments he can remember bits of and a sterile Drake Manor which is still fairly clear). He has photos on the wall — cityscapes and his family and friends. Two guest rooms, one of which looks most often occupied by Cass and the other by Young Justice. Kitchen suggests he doesn't cook much and prefers coffee to energy drinks — unless he has the energy drinks stashed with his gear.
…He remembers his gear, a safe room, and a discreet way of leaving the building are accessible via a hidden door in the linen closet, but he doesn't remember how to trigger it. There's no fish tank. It'll come to him when the universe solidifies but he'll try to figure it out first.
His phone keeps buzzing, but no emergencies. Cass sends him 🏠❄️❌🥵😭 — this Manor does not have central air conditioning and she doesn't like it. Anarky is claiming to knew something Red Robin doesn't know about the Calculator, which he should follow up on at some point. Cissie complains in the Grown-Up Just Us groupchat that she got her own birthdate wrong when filling out a form and that she blames Impulse.
—It's the fault of the timeline stuff, of course, but Cissie isn't aware of that. Most of the Arrows aren't, though— There are exceptions, Tim knows about exceptions, but it slips out of his mind as he tries to grasp it. The universe is solidifying, meta-knowledge is the first to get inaccessible, and none of the exceptions are Arrows he's particularly close to so he can't quite grasp it. Ah well.
At this rate Bruce might be on his feet in time for patrol.
—Tim can foggily remember greeting an adaptive-timeline universe in Wayne Manor, with Bruce guiding him through data collection. It happened more than once. Dick remembers it, too. It doesn't anymore, though, even when Tim finds himself fourteen and securely in Wayne Manor. Bruce passes out and stays out until the universe has solidified.
They aren't sure what the mechanism is, but pretty much everyone agrees it's because some universes' Bruces could not handle what they might glimpse in other Bruces' memories — might destroy themselves even in the hours before the memories fade. He can't be himself knowing what he might be.
(Jason has called it cowardice at least once. He's also expressed envy at least once. Damian also tends to have a very disoriented and agitated couple of hours.) (Probably he's plenty distracted now, though.)
Tim is, and Tim has things to do, and it's best not to get your hopes up for timelines but he's had much worse starts.
He lets it go.
("Booster are you trying to tell us universes have sexual reproduction.")
*******
(Don't worry Tim, you're now in a romcom fic or perhaps slice-of-life. It's all good.)
Left as an exercise for the reader: What events do other Bats look for when they try to collect data like this? What characters besides Bruce might have to pass out rather than reconcile everything that goes into them? Is Dick ever haunted by ghosts of memories of having a twin brother? Who is Wally married to?
pairing: shadowheart/karlach
wordcount: 3,388
content warnings: spoilers for shadowheart's act iii quest, don't worry they get together after this
other tags: canon compliant, character study, introspection, pre-relationship, shadowheart is bad at feelings, c.unnilingus, v.aginal fingering
note: i don't normally write pairings outside of astarion/tav. i'm sorry if things seem ooc or not quite accurate enough. i usually only write for a.starion/t.av so i'm nervous as to how this reads !!
archiveofourown: here.
summary: Karlach knows the truth Shadowheart wants to show her.
‘Karlach?’
Shadowheart barely understands what has brought her here. Perhaps it was the loss of a mother’s love or the emptiness of divinity flooding her bones. She shivers. She will never confess to crying, to cutting her hair off in a fit of rage. That is not her image. She was a Sharran beauty, a devout worshiper, and now…
She looks at her silver braid and tries not to feel sick. I am nothing but a confused girl, she thinks spitefully. Bile rises in her belly, and she tears her hair down before she feels weak. It hardly helps.
Karlach’s tent is large and looming, enough space for herself and all their companions if they felt like getting together. It’s warm and inviting. It’s… A safe place. Shadowheart isn’t ready for the jeers of their peers when they see what she’s done to her hair. She climbs in to hide.
Karlach is inside because of course she is. The tiefling woman is too busy singing and using a whetstone to sharpen her blade to really notice her intruder. Shadowheart almost feels grateful she can pass by as a ghost unannounced. She crams herself into the corner and wraps her arms around her knees, pressing her mouth against her leather pants, fingers clenching to avoid feeling empty. The swelling ennui is a familiar emotion — She could not remember the last time she had not fought against despair, not since the illithid ship, not since the Moonrise Towers.
Seeing Dame Aylin everyday was almost a vicious mockery. That the child of Selûne could stand so tall without a fear in the world but Shadowheart could not. The wound on her hand refuses to throb. If she is lost, why is the Goddess of Loss not guiding her? It was not a true betrayal. Anyone would have refused… Shadowheart still loves her or so she supposes she does. She has not known a life that did not include Shar’s teachings and her cruelty. She feels as though she’s falling into an ocean made of pitch. There is a faint part of her that is assured she will die. Her goddess wills it so.
Karlach doesn’t turn around for a minute or two. She’s busy humming a song that Shadowheart doesn’t recognize, and Shadowheart stares miserably at her spine. It makes her feel somewhat frustrated. Here a woman who had lost almost everything and is still as happy as can be while Shadowheart…
Shadowheart is indecisive of how she feels.
She clenches her fist.
‘Just a moment,’ Karlach calls over her shoulder.
‘Take your time,’ Shadowheart replies. She’s been seen after all. She begins touching the skin around her nails, delicately squeezing and prodding them. They’re sore after her evening at the river washing sins from her hair. ‘I hope you don’t mind. The others were…loud.’
Karlach does not take her time. She sets her weapon aside and turns around almost immediately. In her haste, she seems to forget. Shadowheart watches as a thousand gorgeous sparks shine throughout her body. Her amber gaze comes to life, fragmented like stars in the sky. Karlach focuses on Shadowheart first and then her hair, grinning from ear to ear.
Shadowheart doesn’t have the time to flinch before Karlach is reaching across the distance, grabbing a strand of her hair and pulling it closer to her for inspection. She navigates the closeness of the tent on her knees, and like she’s parched, she inhales Shadowheart’s scent. It’s a communion of sorts. Her flesh is the flesh of Shar, and her blood the holy ichor. The sincerity of Karlach’s interest floods every part of Shadowheart’s body. Like Dame Aylin to Isobel, Karlch can’t seem to get enough.
‘Shadowheart, your hair — ’ Karlach breathes. She holds Shadowheart’s freshly dyed tresses against her nose. ‘It’s like moonlight! It’s fucking amazing.’
A compliment? Shadowheart’s throat seizes up. She wants to look away or to disappear entirely. There is nothing left that she can do besides tolerate Karlach’s awe of her. But it warms her frosty skin, and she meets Karlach’s gaze bravely.
‘So you like it?’ she asks faintly.
‘Of course I do!’ Karlach replies. ‘You look incredible, really. Like you’re the moon — ’
Shadowheart knows what expression contorts her face. Karlach immediately looks apologetic, eyebrows pulling together. She begins to apologize, but something overcomes Shadowheart. She doesn’t want apologies. She doesn’t want anything akin to pity. She wants release. Shadowheart leans forward and kisses her, mashing their noses together uncomfortably. It’s unchaste. It’s hostile, almost. But whatever she might feel about it, Karlach kisses her back, both hands coming to cradle the side of Shadowheart’s face.
It’s exhilarating.
Karlach is everything Shadowheart is not. Not repressed, not devout, not weak. She is larger than life and above it all. Her skin smells like warm fire and her hair always smells of chestnut and honey no matter how many she’s killed. It must be some sort of talent.
Shadowheart wants more and more. She pushes Karlach harder than she means to and while it doesn’t do much, it does cause Karlach to grab her wrists roughly. She kicks her greatsword haphazardly out of the tent flap.
‘Let’s not get hasty, Shadowheart,’ Karlach warns her.
‘Shut up.’
‘This isn’t a fight,’ she says. ‘Don’t make it one.’
‘What do you know?’ Shadowheart asks bitterly. ‘Perhaps I want it to be a fight. What good has being pious done for me? It’s all nonsense and you know it. So I say, let’s fight, Karlach. Let’s fight the way we know how.’
Karlach doesn’t say anything at first. It’s like she’s thinking of what to do next, but Shadowheart knows better. It is careful restraint to keep her infernal engine from overheating. Karlach likes the idea of a challenge, and what is a greater challenge than this? Shadowheart wants to be cruel. It might work better if it were Lae’zel she sought out, but it isn’t. Instead, she raises her chin and struggles against Karlach’s hands around her wrists playfully. Karlach knows the truth Shadowheart wants to show her.
No matter how hard she tries, Shadowheart will always be the lost girl in the woods who trembles at wolves. No goddess will cure her malady. The same could not be said about mortals whose hearts are prone to rupturing. Shadowheart wants to ignite the flame. She raises her arms above her head. She submits to Karlach’s will and watches her lights turn blue.
‘I can sit here and I can talk about my feelings,’ Shadowheart says, tone blasé, ‘or we could fuck the stress away, you and I.’
Karlach’s lips press into a firm line. ‘I — I want to make sure you’re feeling alright.’
‘I’m feeling about as well as anyone would,’ Shadowheart snorts. She shakes her head. ‘Do this with me or don’t, but don’t mistake me for someone who wants to lament her feelings. I’m not that kind of girl.’
‘Just for tonight then,’ Karlach says, and that’s good enough. She’s a romantic after all. A dreamer. A wish-upon-the-stars kind of woman. Shadowheart is almost jealous. ‘Tomorrow,’ she warns, ‘we talk about it.’
‘Fine,’ she says with a shrug.
Shadowheart tries not to frown. In its entirety, it is probably the best offer that she would get from anyone else. A night of careless and raunchy sex. With Karlach, too. Shadowheart struggles with the weight of it, the complexity of the offering. But it’s what she wants. It’s all she wants. She closes her eyes. Shar would have made her forsake this. Karlach’s hands are tight around her wrists, and the sound of her infernal heart beating is better than any opera. She leans forward and devours Karlach’s lips.
If Shadowheart is going to hell, she may as well enjoy it.
There’s something fascinating about being pinned down by someone who wants to be good. No whippings, no torturings, just a wholeheartedly good time. Karlach pulls her around like she hardly weighs a thing, and when Shadowheart’s back is pressed into a bedroll that smells of ash and honey, she can’t help but shiver. Karlach doesn’t command her to stay put, but she does. She’s a good listener and always has been. She waits patiently as Karlach makes quick work of her camp clothes and tries not to preen at the way Karlach swallows thickly as her nightshirt opens up and her breasts spill free. She smiles.
Karlach leans forward and mouths at her breast, sharp teeth over sensitive skin, and her hands move to focus on the task at hand at Shadowheart’s hips. She’s lifted by the curve of her ass so that Karlach can fuss with her leggings, pulling them down her legs as quickly as she can amd tossing them aside without breaking contact with her nipple. It’s too delicate. It’s too dainty. Shadowheart closes her eyes.
Karlach does not ask her ‘if she’s ready.’
For once, she isn’t treated as though she is willing to be broken or that she craves it. It’s almost a silent vow, a secret prayer. You will be ready for me. You will take it. It’s a much nicer situation than the reverse. Shadowheart has wept and wailed since they left the Shadowfell. She is done with tears. She is done being lost. Karlach sweeps her hands down her body like she’s never touched someone before — and, well, she hasn’t, at least not in a while. That’s a kind of hunger that can never be contained.
‘Stop being so gentle,’ Shadowheart says.
‘No,’ Karlach replies. ‘You’ll take what I give you tonight. Kindness and all.’
Shadowheart grinds her teeth. ‘I don’t deserve it. I don’t want it.’
‘We all deserve things we don’t want,’ Karlach says patiently. ‘Now shut it. You came to me, remember.’
Shadowheart tosses her head in despair. She’s almost certain she will cave into this emotion, this serenity that pours over her in waves. She is going to fade away tonight. Her hair is no longer as dark as the night. For all her talk of grandiose kindness, Karlach is rough. She pulls and digs her nails into Shadowheart’s supple flesh as if determined to take her apart and put her back together. Instead of a Sharran teaching guiding her every move, it’s instinct. The instinct to be a hero that pollutes Karlach and causes her to become something unrecognizable in the heat of battle. A howling beast. She presses her burning mouth to Shadowheart’s navel and sets fire to her skin.
Karlach begins her relentless assault. She starts by hooking her arms around Shadowheart’s thighs and lifting her hips up so that she can slot her mouth against Shadowheart’s cunt to begin feasting. It’s unprompted, it’s unscripted, and it’s so much more than Shadowheart could have ever imagined that she can’t stop the startled moan that slips between her lips. She’s lifted as though she weighs nothing. Her heart stutters.
It’s messy and frenzied. Karlach lets out an equally shocked noise, and Shadowheart searching for her eyes does more damage than good. She doesn’t know what she was expecting to see, but the hunger is better than she imagined. Shadowheart was a ripe fruit begging to be plucked, and for an adventurer, it was the finest feast of them all. Karlach’s fingers dig into her back sharply as she tries to control herself. Shadowheart hisses. The pain is welcomed.
She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to control anything. Shadowheart leans into the touch and quivers. This goodwill threatens to eat her whole. Karlach licks and sucks at her insistently. It’s almost as though she’s afraid the taste will be gone if she doesn’t indulge now. But it will be there. It will always be there. Even Shadowheart can’t tamper the flames of jealousy. And she is jealous. It buds in her chest every time Karlach smiles at someone who isn’t her.
‘You’re so wet,’ Karlach murmurs against her thigh. ‘You taste so good.’
Shadowheart squeezes her eyes shut and tries to ignore the shiver that races down her spine. She isn’t sure what it is about what Karlach said that drives her crazy. Or she does, and she just didn’t want to admit it. Despite being an astute pupil, she was never perceived as good. Karlach makes her want to be.
‘That’s what you want to be, isn’t it?’ Karlach murmurs. Her eyes flicker and Shadowbeart burns. ‘You want to be a good girl — ’
I don’t know who I am anymore, but the sound of Karlach’s voice rumbling to tell her how well behaved she’s being is enough to stop the torment for now. She isn’t sure how she’s going to survive the night. Her thoughts turn to dust the moment Karlach presses her tongue flat against her clit and tortures her so well that even the Mother Superior would be jealous.
Shadowheart lets out an unrefined whine and reaches for the first thing she can. She drags Karlach’s pillow and places it under her hips to relieve pressure, and then whatever little self-disciple Karlach has snaps. She devours like she never has before, and Shadowheart’s back arches so far off the bedroll she’ll feel it in the morning.
It isn’t enough for Karlach to indulge. It would be so easy to make Shadowheart come by using her tongue alone, but Karlach presses the broad of her palm against Shadowheart’s hip and slides a single finger inside as if to test the limits. Then she slides in another, and Shadowheart is already so full she doesn’t know if she can take anymore.
It’s the size difference, Shadowheart thinks. She’s always been svelte and lanky, but Karlach is muscular enough that her mind begins to wonder nastily. Karlach is able to support her weight while feasting on her flesh and doesn’t even seem to mind. It’s too much. Shadowheart thinks she might fall.
Shadowheart’s stoic disposition crumbles beautifully beneath Karlach’s hands and tongue. The frigidity dissipates as Karlach adds a final third finger, bundling so tight inside of Shadowheart that she can hardly stand it, and when Karlach sucks and twists her fingers, Shadowheart cries out so loudly she’s convinced she’s woken the entire camp. She digs her fingers into Karlach’s hair and tries to keep her hips still, but she can’t help the way her legs shake on either one of Karlach’s shoulders. So tight, she feels dizzier than she ever has.
‘Karlach — ’ Shadowheart says weakly.
Karlach shakes her head and doesn’t say a thing, not even as Shadowheart comes so hard she loses her vision. She slips and falls lax against the pillow and Karlach chases her down, unwilling to let her escape too far. Shadowheart presses a hand against her chest to stop her racing heart but it isn’t enough.
Karlach over-stimulates her and giggles wickedly against her cunt, squeezing her thigh with her freehand. She doesn’t stop until Shadowheart has come again with a hoarse wail, curling on her side as if that will help her escape the never ending building pleasure in the pit of her stomach. Only once Shadowheart has come thrice is Karlach satisfied to release her in a boneless puddle on the bedroll.
Shadowheart’s body still twitches with the memory of Karlach’s fingers twisting deep. She squeezes her thighs together and tries to even her breathing by pressing her fingers against her belly. It doesn’t help. The only thing that lends any aid is Karlach’s chest pressing against back. She’s acutely aware of the differences of their stature — Karlach engulfs her entirely like a wildfire. She is a forest. She is the roots beneath the willows and the silence of the night. A wolf that howls at the moon.
The moon. Shadowheart pushes her sweaty bangs out of her face. She is content to rest and catch her breath as long as Karlach will allow it. It’s hard to feel kicked out of the tent when Karlach presses a tender kiss to the back of her head.
Shadowheart’s eyes open frantically. She is forced to admit what she’s always been afraid of. There is something not right with her past. She’s never chased the shadows before, but the Noblestalk had reminded her of things she never wanted to know.
‘I changed my hair,’ she says numbly. She stares at the flap of Karlach’s tent in muted horror.
‘It suits you,’ Karlach murmurs.
‘I don’t want to be in pain anymore,’ she says. She stares at her hand.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Yes. ‘No,’ Shadowheart says. ‘Is it alright if I rest here?’
Karlach is silent for a moment. Finally she says, ‘You can stay the entire night if you want.’
Shadowheart turns to face her. It’s hard to confront the things that she’s afraid of. She looks Karlach right in the eyes and tries to relax, biting the inside of her bottom lip to keep from frowning. Every day since the illithid ship has been lived in fear. She doesn’t want to be afraid anymore. She doesn’t want Karlach to be afraid either.
‘Well, shall I?’ she asks. She reaches between Karlach’s thighs.
‘Ah, no need,’ Karlach says with a shameless laugh. She’s blushing, and the only proof is the flame that flickers against her skin. ‘I, uh, already did.’
‘Oh,’ Shadowheart hums. It hits her. ‘Oh.’
Karlach doesn’t even seem the least bit embarrassed about it, and why should she? It’s flattering, to say the least. Shadowheart folds her hands back between them both and watches as Karlach settles for the night, dragging over a fur cloak to be used as a pillow. Shadowheart doesn’t have the heart to ask what happened to the other one. She’s fine enough knowing that their rendezvous was the culprit. But as Karlach’s eyes flutter shut to rest, Shadowheart’s stay open. She realizes she doesn’t know how to sleep next to another person.
It isn’t the same as sleeping in a camp surrounded by companions. There’s no idle chit chat or laughter to distract from the fact that her only companion was Karlach. There was no flickering fire to drown out the sound of her misery. Only Karlach’s quiet breathing and the smell of the dye in her hair, the thought of starlight replacing the twilight, the memory of Dame Aylin knowing who she was. Shadowheart reaches her hand across the distance.
Her fingers bump against Karlach’s. She has the audacity to be surprised when Karlach takes her hand and smooths her fingers across Shadowheart’s skin. She braces for pain that never comes. Lady Shar really has left her. Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but it makes her throat close.
Would she ever stop feeling like a child who knew nothing? Anger burns hot in the bottom of her throat as she tries to relax, but then the fury and fear and abandonment are washing over her in waves and she sobs.
Shadowheart doesn’t sleep, and Karlach respects her wishes to leave it alone for the night. That doesn’t stop her from imagining what it would be like. Shadowheart has spent her entire life running away from the brightness of the moon, but Karlach is so beautiful beneath the pale light. It’s strange. Shadowheart has never allowed herself to want before.
It has always been about Lady Shar’s will. It has always been about following Mother Superior’s creed. This was another taste of rebellion that would have had her palms caned until they bled. It feels like this will be the only chance for freedom now that the goddess has closed her eyes to Shadowheart.
Karlach’s face is soft and slack as she sleeps. She snores too. It’s an undelightful sound. It fills the entire tent until there’s no ignoring it. Yet Shadowheart doesn’t mind. She doesn’t care even the slightest bit. She would listen to it willingly if it meant happiness.
This is one of the easiest decisions Shadowheart has ever made. In the morning when Karlach wakes up, Shadowheart goes with her. They break their fast together by a stream and take time scrubbing their bodies clean of filth. When Karlach touches the small of her back, Shadowheart smiles for the first time since the Shadowfell.
‘A smile suits you,’ Karlach tells her earnestly.
Shadowheart stares at the water. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I think the moonlight does too.’
Hi I love your writing and LOVE the recent scarab/orbo fic you posted. I know with "shadow of the luminary" you said that it was cool for people to write sequels for it... I was just curious if that applied to "darkness drives the beetle to the bulb" too? But if so... would writing about the intern that appears in the middle of the fic (and then pairing them with Scarab) be okay? If not, that's totally okay (it is your work after all)!!! Thank you for writing such great fics and posting them!
thank you so much for this lovely message! you're too kind!! 🥰
and thank you for asking!! :D please, feel free! the blanket permission i gave for sequels extends to all my fic, really, but most emphatically to my completed fionna & cake works, including:
come out of your shell (prismo/scarab)
in the shadow of the luminary (nightmo/scarab)
the past is perpetual youth to the heart (wizmo/scarab, midquel to luminary)
when darkness drives the beetle to the bulb (orbo/scarab, sequel to luminary)
in fact, a wonderful sequel to "darkness drives the beetle to the bulb" was just published tonight: Growing Pains and Coffee Stains by mouseyblue! i got a sneak peak before it was published and CAN CONFIRM, it's VERY good!!! <33333333
anyway! as it happens, i spared the details on the intern in "bulb" SPECIFICALLY so people could imagine their OCs or self-inserts there, if they wanted. :3c so i'm delighted to hear that possibility piqued your interest! bonus points for understanding the "assignment", hehehe <3 if you check the "inspired by" box and add a link to my fic, I'll approve the association so they can link to each other <3
honestly, I'm really enjoying doing fic this way lately? that is, not making formal sequels with the AO3 series function, but using the "inspired by" function for my own fic too, so that both my fic and others' can share equal "legitimacy" as follow-up reading experiences from the fic they were inspired by! none of us owns these properties anyway, so why not have fun with it??? i love to construct a beautiful sandbox for everyone to play in together <3
i should get an email notification immediately if a fic is posted that's "inspired" by one of mine (unless it's posted to an anonymous AO3 account, for whatever reason...), but please feel free to let me know you've posted it here, or on any of my other socials, too!
thank you again for your lovely message, and happy writing!
thank you so much for linking never what you were before. i was itching for something to read while following borderline (a fic so good i run to ao3 the second i get an email, it's so COOL)
You’re welcome! It’s such a great fic, I think I read it all in one sitting and had to take a break afterward to consider my life choices.
Also thank you! I’m trying to get about one chapter out a week, but it’s been hard as the story gets more complicated and the word count gets longer!
