#Isobel was also good

[maegalkarven]

AU where Dark Urge didn't loose memories and the events in Moonrise Towers in act 2 went a tag differently. Or very differently.

Fucking everything up in a new, interesting way.

Characters: m!Dark Urge, Enver Gortash, Orin the Red, Ketheric Thorm, Isobel Thorm, Dame Aylin, Wyll Ravengard, Ulder Ravengard (mentioned), Karlach.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash.

It was a stupid fucking plan from the very beginning of it.

To go to the Moonrise Towers to – what, confront Ketheric? Confront the Chosen of the God of the Dead?

Nemo knew better than the others what an idiotic idea it was.

But Nightsong already took a flight, and harpers moved to attack – and what was Nemo supposed to do?

He was a wreck, a shadow of his former self, weak as a kitten, clumsy as a newborn owlcub. He was the failed Chosen of Bhaal going to a place what was his demise.

Swooped by the currents of events unfolding, he had no plan.

But again, Nemo was never the plan guy; it was Gortash’s forte, it was his work. He was the brain of their plan, the brain of all of their operations. He thought things through as Nemo sliced around, creating chaos, bringing havoc, painting world in blood.

But it was before. Before Orin took her swing, before Nemo’s once great abilities were reduced to dust, before he became weak. So weak he had to depend on others, so weak he required, no, needed allies.

The voice of Father dull in his head; illithid parasite had to do something with it, had to change the rules the same way it changed them for Astarion.

Funny, before that whole mess Nemo would never put himself and a vampire spawn on the same page. But now? Oh, how alike they were, the spawns of unrelenting cruel force commanding their will, puppets of someone else’s play.

Waking up on nautiloid was akin to waking up from a fewer dream. The Urge...subsided. It was pushed back, held at bay. He was almost alone in his own head, more alone when he ever was with Father’s constant will moving his hands.

But what good did this free will do if he was about to die anyway, probably in the same damn place he died the first time? Would Orin be the one to slice through him one final time?

Nemo was never the one for plans, as clever as he was. Gortash always claimed it drove him mad, for Nemo had all the intellect, but rarely put it to good use.

“You have to exercise your mind the same way you train your body,” his unexpected ally would say. “Otherwise what use is it to you? You, my dear murderer, is capable of much greater things than your father foresees for you.”

These thoughts were atrocious, they were heretical, they were...compelling. Flattering, warming some deep corners of the soul Nemo didn’t know he had.

No wonder lordling ended up luring Nemo into his bed.

No wonder Orin saw her brother’s newfound weakness and used it against him.

Clever little thing, his slaughter-kin, to shift into Gortash to approach him. He was a fool to lower his defenses, of course he was.

He paid for it greatly.

“We’re moving down,” Isobel acknowledged. She, a daughter of a man who turned his back to two gods for her sake. She, the priestess of a goddess Ketheric Thorm forsaken. She, a child brave enough to confront her father.

Nemo hated her before he knew her.

He hated her for the way Ketheric turned the world upside down for her to live; he hated her for how ridiculously loved she was.

She hated her because even after being corrupted by Myrkul’s unholy powers, she still dared to stay unstained. Holy. Good.

He hated her so much his whole body hurt.

She who denied her father’s love, she who had love so selfless, so unconditional-

Father’s love was always conditional. Father’s love was always a leash and never a caress.

Father’s love hurt no matter how much Nemo craved it.

Oh, how he wished he could stifle the light of her life; oh how he wanted to see Ketheric’s face as he would tell him, in every gruesome detail, how his precious daughter died the second time.

How everything Ketheric did, everything he betrayed was for naught.

But Nemo was not what he used to be: he was weak, and Isobel was his advantage in a fight against her father. Her and Nightsong, but Nemo wasn’t even sure if aasimar was alive; the last he saw of her was when Elder Brain dragged the woman down.

Down, down, down-

Down they went.

Nemo didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t want to confront anyone, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t strong, he-

He wanted to go home.

Home, such a strange concept it is.

Bhaal’s temple was never his home, even if it was the only shelter he has ever known.

No, home was...

Home was a mechanical clicking of devices operating in Gortash’s workshop. Home was the dim light and the huge table covered in papers; the smell of hot iron and smoke, and the man with fingers stained in ink.

The bitter bile rose up his throat at the thought of it.

The Chosen of Bane was never supposed to be his home.

The Chosen of Bane was his enemy.

Nemo has failed his life’s purpose in more ways than he could count.

And yet he wanted to go back; to the security of that place, to the delighted glint in the other man’s eyes, the mad plans, the notes on the table, the open books, the diagrams, the warmth of his skin as Nemo dragged Enver away from his work:

"Rest, you need to rest. It’s unbecoming of you to run yourself ragged like that. Sleep, your machines will not disappear overnight."

The way he struggled, tried to argue as exhaustion overtook his body. The way Lord Enver Gortash, the tyrant in the making, looked vulnerable in front of him in a way, Nemo suspected, he never looked in front of anyone else.

The way Nemo went to bed with him and expected to wake up in a pool of blood, but never did.

Because some part of him resisted Father even then. Some part of him claimed Enver Gortash for himself.

And it cost him greatly.

Nemo wondered if returning to Moonrise Towers could be classified as ‘coming home’.

He wondered if his home would meet him with windows shut and new lock on the door. He wondered how quickly he would be discarded by a man having no use for him anymore.

Turned out, Nemo was a fucking idiot.

***

It happens faster than it has any right to be; Ketheric spots Isobel, Wyll sees his father, Karlach lurches at Gortash, and Orin...

Orin steps away from the Elder Brain and smiles.

“My poor slaughter-kin,” she coos. “Came back so I could finish what I’ve started, did you not?”

And then the moves.

And fuck, Nemo forgot how fast she is, and he is so out of it, he is but a shell of his former self; his body is weak, feeble, damaged-

Orin knows it. Orin was the one who damaged it in the first place.

Nemo is vaguely aware of Isobel reaching out to Nightsong and freeing her from the bonds, he thinks he hears Gortash trying to reel Orin and Ketheric back in:

“Orin, we haven’t finished, the Brain didn’t receive command yet, come back here- Ketheric, two stones can’t hold it down, we need the third, Ketheric, forget about your daughter, come right here and make yourself useful for a change-“

But Ketheric doesn’t listen. Orin doesn’t listen. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own issues, their own grudges, their own fights. Karlach slices through the undead servant and knocks Gortash into the ground, only to be pushed back by a force of small explosive detonating right into her face. It doesn’t damage her much, but pushes back a significant amount.

“My poor brother,” Orin taints as Nemo tries to dodge one of her slices and comes out short. Blood oozes from the new cut and his murder-kin giggles. “So out of it, so pathetically weak. I did a good job on you, brother dear. But,” another smile, another attack. Nemo barely parries it in time. “I can do better. Father knows I can do better, Father knows you have failed him. He loves you no more, my failure of a brother. He has left you.”

Nemo would love to argue what Father went nowhere, what he still haunts Nemo’s every waking and dreaming moment, what the only thing stopping the God of Murder from consuming his wayward son is the illithid parasite in the bhaalspawn’s brain. But he doesn’t have the time, he doesn’t have the strength, he is failing, and-

The next strike to come is fatal.

Or it would be, if not for a huge tentacle of the brain to come flying out of nowhere.

Sending Orin flying right into the Morphic pool.

To the Brain.

With her stone.

Fuck.

Nemo turns around and meets a bewildered stare of Enver fucking Gortash, the man who just successfully compromised his own plan - their plan - beyond any recovery.

A fool.

Nemo’s blood is so loud in his ears he can barely hear; his heart is throwing itself against the cage of his ribs with a force unbeknown to him before.

He feels elevated, he feels scared, but most of all he feels-

“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls and everything, miraculously, stills. Everyone freezes, staring between them in a mix of surprise and dread.

Everyone feels what something just went very wrong.

“I-“ Enver starts, but Nemo gives him no chance to continue.

“You just threw the Netherstone to the Brain! The Netherstone we use to control the Brain! And you just threw it right at it,” there’s indignation burning in him but also...confusion?

Why? Why would Enver do something like that? Why would he compromise everything? Why would he-

“She was about to kill you,” Gortash seethes. “I saved your life.”

“By dooming everyone and everything in the process,” Nemo shouts back. “By dooming yourself. By the gods, Ketheric, did you see that? How he just- Ruined everything?”

“I did in fact see that,” Ketheric, who is pretty much being held down at the fire point, states. The only thing stopping Nightsong from murdering him here and now is Isobel’s hand on her shoulder. “It was a very stupid thing to do.”

Gortash looks appalled at that.

“I just saved his life!” he repeats like this fixes everything. Like it explains anything. There’s a mad look in his eyes, of a man who just realized what he has done. Then he turns to Nemo. “I saved your life, you ungrateful little-“

“Why?” comes out so quietly it’s barely a whisper.

At first Nemo thinks he asked that, the question was definitely on the tip of his tongue. But no, the voice belongs to Karlach. She rises from the ground, shaken but unhurt.

“I know you; you’re an awful fucking person who only cares for his own well-being. Why would you do something like that,” she gestures at Nemo and Nemo makes a face at her. He knows how he looks, thank you very much. “For him?”

Gortash opens his mouth, hesitates. His eyes dart to Nemo and Nemo meets his gaze with just as inquisitive expression as the one on Karlach’s face.

“Yes, Enver,” he agrees. “Why?”

But Enver never gets to answer, for in that precise moment the waters of the Morphic pool part and a figure crawls out.

A figure of a pale woman with even paler eyes, dressed in red.

Orin.

She takes a step, then another.

And something is wrong.

Her movements are unsteady; her head dangles as if she’s held up the strings and her eyes-

They’re vacant, her eyes, almost empty. They’re...peaceful, and Orin has never been peaceful in her entire damn life.

Nemo makes the involuntary step forward and is immediately held back by Wyll, who, gods only know how, managed to not only teleport his father right next to Karlach, but also come back to Nemo, and is now holding him firmly by the forearm.

“Don’t,” he whispers into Nemo’s ear. “This is not your sister.”

“Orin?” Nemo calls out regardless, because this is his sister. It has to be.

Orin raises her head and looks straight at him. Then she opens her mouth and speaks:

“Praise the Absolute.”

“By the Nine Hells,” Karlach curses. “She got tadpolled.”

“And she has the stone,” Ketheric is the first one to move, ripping himself out of Nightsong’s grip and stepping forward.

“Well, shit.”

An overwhelming, overbearing horror embraces Nemo.

Orin, his little sister. Orin, his murderer, his torturer.

Orin, the perfect slayer. The puppet of the Absolute.

“Maybe I can use the prism,” he starts. “I can bring her back to her senses.”

“And then what?” Wyll argues and it takes Nemo an embarrassingly long time to realize his friend has already started to pull him away. “She’ll try to kill us on her own volition and not the Brain’s? No.”

“We need to go,” Gortash speaks up. “Quickly, now.”

“There’s no ‘we,’”, Karlach argues. “And ‘we’ are not going anywhere with you.”

“Karlach, now is not the time to argue-“

“You sold me to Zariel-“

“Father?” Isobel calls out. “Father, what are you doing?”

Ketheric unsheathes his sword.

“Atoning,” he speaks. The moves to rip the Netherstone from his armor and throw it at Nemo. Nemo, surprisingly, manages to catch it. “Keep it safe,” the man orders and oh, is this his general voice now? “Keep her safe.”

Nemo doesn’t need to ask who he means by that. Instead he argues.

“I am a murderer, you know that, right?” as if any sane argument would work right now. “A murder incarnate. I do not keep people safe.”

“This time you will,” and this is why Ketheric was so feared and respected; a single hard stare pins Nemo to the ground. “Or I will come back and hunt you down to the end of Toriel. To the end of every known realm, if I have to.”

“Not to interrupt this fine and lovely conversation, but general,” Gortash looks just as puzzled as Nemo feels. “What are you doing again?”

The man has some strength enough to smirk.

“What I should have done long time ago,” he sends Isobel a long, sickeningly loving gaze. “The right thing. Isobel.”

“Father,” the girl’s chin trembles. “Father, I don’t-“

“I love you more than any god could understand,” the old general speaks. “And I will never regret bringing you back, never. But now,” he turns his gaze back and manages to parry the quick, efficient and entirely deadly strike of Bhaal’s unloved daughter. “You have to live. And I...I have to take a stand. Go,” he says. “Go,” he commands. “I will hold her back for as long as I can.”

“The undying against the slayer,” Gortash murmurs as he already sprints towards the elevated platform.

The ground shakes as the Brain breaks out of its bonds, bit by bit, slowly but surely. The wave of psionic energy what comes their way almost knocks them all down.

“Go,” Nemo shouts as he and Wyll teleport closer to the exit. Thank fuck for the teleportation spells. Thank fuck for Wyll.

Karlach all but carries dazed Ravengard away as Dame Aylin takes Isobel in her arms and takes flight.

“Go, go, go!” he repeats as a familiar hand grabs him by the shoulder. Nemo doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to act as he is dragged the remaining way to the platform by no-one but the tyrant himself.

The moment Karlach reaches the platform Wyll hits the control panel and they start to rise. Nemo is afraid it is not fast enough.

From the height of their ascend he sees the undying general fight off the slayer. Two Chosen of Gods against each other.

Even from that far away it is clear Ketheric will fall.

He sacrificed himself. He brought them time.

Fool.

***

Down below the illithid colony, amidst the Hell of his own creation, general Ketheric Thorm receives one last, final blow.

Blood oozes out of his wounds, painting the floor red. Above him a woman dressed in red stands; eyes vacant, empty, soulless.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Isobel is safe. And Ketheric...

“Melodia,” he whispers as the last breath leaves his body. “I am coming.”

Somehow he knows she is waiting for him; what she has always waited for him, no matter how far he strayed.

Ketheric Thorm dies peacefully. It feels like falling asleep.

[chronurgy]

Ketheric is so fucking funny to be because I think it's fair to say that there are actually reasonable and understandable objections one could have to isobel and aylin's relationship but he doesn't come across like that AT ALL and instead he's out there acting like the forgotten realm's only homophobe skskslsnfndja

[justlightlysedated]

So update, I have NOT finished the fic BUT since I did say maybe today, I decided to post an update! Here is the last 1/3 of Part Two, which is also known as "The Divorce Era" it is also WIP WEDNESDAY! So yay for me 😊

December 2019

Isobel is just walking through the front entrance of the hospital when her phone blares, sudden and loud. She tugs it out of her pocket and to her ear.

"What?"

"When you get here don't do any Jedi mind tricks," Kyle says without a hello. "I have to talk to you before anything else. Where are you?"

"In the front entrance," she responds and hangs up.

She has to stop herself from stomping forward and demanding to be told what is happening with Michael Guerin. But she trusts Kyle enough to wait.

She still doesn't understand how this happened.

They had been practicing with their powers more than usual, but it didn't make any sense for Michael to drop out of nowhere, publicly enough that the emergency services were called before anyone could do anything about it.

Kyle had recognized his description from the EMTs and had immediately called Isobel, telling her he'd do what he could to avoid exposure.

She spots Kyle coming out of the elevator and heading her way, walking fast. He grabs on to her elbow and begins tugging her forward. Isobel lets this go on until they're in the elevator and then she pushes him away.

"Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" she demands. "And where is Michael?"

Kyle reaches forward and presses the button to stop the elevator before turning to face her.

"Has Michael ever told you anything about being married?"

Isobel snorts, wanting to laugh, but settling for shaking her head. "He's made comments about a husband before, but it's impossible that he actually got married without Max and I there."

Kyle exhales roughly, "Well either he was telling the truth or it's too late to do anything to keep Michael off the government radar."

Isobel clenches her hands together, resisting the urge to tear into Kyle's brain and find out the information that he has faster. The elevator creaks alarmingly.

"Okay," Kyle says, holding his hands out in front of him like he's trying to placate her. "I'm just the messenger here, okay?"

"Kyle," Isobel snaps. "I need a full and concise explanation in the next thirty seconds or else-"

"I can't access any of his records," Kyle says, cutting her off. "Everything from the stats taken at the scene to the oxygen mask put on his face have been put under lock and classified key. The chief of staff says that there was a military code on his file that puts all of his information on a highly classified need to know basis."

Isobel thinks that over quickly, "So what you're saying is that either they already know and there is nothing that we can do or Michael is married to someone high up in the military."

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Isobel wants to smack herself on the forehead.

"I stand corrected," she says before Kyle can confirm or deny her previous statement. "There is someone that he could be married to without telling either of us."

Kyle gives her a look, and she raises an eyebrow back at him thinking, Alex Manes really loudly, and somehow it seems to work.

Kyle's eyes flash from realization to surprise to surprisingly, guilt.

Isobel would ask, but she pulls her phone out again instead. 

To Alex's credit he answers the phone almost immediately, "This is not a good time."

"Okay, when would be a better time for you to tell me that you're married to my brother?" Isobel asks as sickeningly sweet as she can manage.

Alex just sighs, "Good. You're here. I need to leave in ten minutes if I want to make it to my meeting in time."

Which meant that Alex was here in the hospital, when he was supposed to be halfway across the country chasing down Project Shepherd leads. Interesting.

"I'm signing all the paperwork, and once Michael wakes up they'll discharge him immediately, no tests or anything," Alex had continued speaking while Isobel wasn't paying attention.

"Alex," Isobel almost shouts, interrupting his flow. "You're married. To Michael."

"Yes," Alex says, sounding annoyed, like he doesn't understand why this needs to be a conversation that they need to have. "Technically separated. Fortunately he didn't actually file for divorce earlier this year so all of the precautions I took are still legible."

"Technically separated," Isobel repeats in a mocking tone.

She can feel the eye roll through the phone.

"Just get out of the elevator, and come over here," he says. "We're in room C118."

He hangs up before Isobel can say anything else.

She scoffs and pulls up Michael's information, but then decides she can berate him better in person.

"He said they're in room C118."

Kyle nods his head once, and presses two buttons, one to start the elevator again, and the other to get to the correct floor.

"So they really are married then?" He asks, sounding both like he wants to know the answer, but also like he doesn't.

"Apparently it's so obvious that Mr. Manes gets annoyed if you ask too many questions," she pauses for a second thinking it over. "Or is it Mr. Guerin as well?"

Kyle just groans and leans back against the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" Isobel asks.

Kyle is saved by answering when the doors open, but Isoebl stops him as they get out, pushing him into a secluded corner. 

"Are you secretly in love with Alex as well or what?"

Kyle splutters, shaking his head, "No. I mean, not that Alex isn't a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to be secretly in love with him-"

"Thanks for saying that Kyle," Alex's highly amused voice comes from somewhere to their right.

They both turn to look at him.

Usually, Isobel has nothing bad to say about Alex's wardrobe. But today it looks like he pulled clothes randomly out of Michael's closet. As a matter of fact, Isobel is sure that the dirty gray shirt he's wearing tucked beneath Michael's jean jacket is the same shirt that Michael had been wearing when she'd seen him last.

"What are you wearing?" Isobel asks, wrinkling her nose.

"My husband's clothes," Alex responds, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

He grins while she gapes at him, momentarily speechless.

"Alex I'm so sorry," Kyle blurts out like he can't stop himself.

"For what?" Alex asks, giving Kyle a slightly suspicious look.

"You remember when you were in that accident a couple of days before you were kidnapped by your brother?"

Alex nods his head slowly, while Isobel furrows her brow. She had never heard about Alex being involved in an accident.

"Well, I forgot to tell you with everything else that happened, but I  kind of threwGuerinoutofthehospitalforclaimingtobeyourhusband."

He throws the words out as fast as he can, and then looks away, wincing when he catches Isobel’s eye. Isobel has half in mind to set him on fire, but she also didn't believe Michael when he told her that she was married. In her defense, she had thought she had all of the pieces of information. It wasn't until she talked to Max, a couple of years before Liz Ortecho stormed back into their lives, that she realized that there was one big blind spot in her reasoning.

Alex takes a second to get what Kyle was trying to say, and once he does he gives Kyle a look bordering on angry, but still amused.

"You could've just checked my file. He's listed as my next of kin."

And once again, Alex says the words in a way that sounds annoyed that he has to point out something so obvious.

Kyle winces at Alex's tone. And Isobel rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry, " Kyle says again.

Alex just nods, "It's not me you owe an apology to."

He turns to face Isobel, "Everything is squared away. He's awake and just waiting for the paperwork. You guys can leave once the nurse hands you the paperwork, and a USB drive."

His eyebrows telegraph the importance of the USB.

Isobel just nods her head slowly, "So technically separated."

Alex sighs, "In the last eleven years, we've spent more time apart than together. This marriage has never been about our relationship."

Isobel opens her mouth to argue, but Alex just shakes his head.

"It's a safety net," he says, and Isobel stops speaking, eyes widening a little. "It means no matter what I'll be there for him."

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're in love with him or anything?" Isobel questions sarcastically because someone has to say it.

Alex rolls his eyes, "Your brother had ample time to file for divorce any time in the last year, and he failed to do so."

"I have to go," he continues before Isobel can ask another question. "Take care of him."

And he's gone before Isobel can tell him that she doesn't need him to tell her that.

---

Alex doesn't know why he expected that taking a meeting near Roswell would come with no consequences. He hadn't told anyone he was going to be around. He hadn't been planning on making a big deal out of it, which is probably why it's the day that Michael Guerin decides to stop being reliable and lands himself in the hospital.

Alex is only two minutes late to his meeting, and it sets the tone for the rest of the day. 

Alex is tired when he heads back to the house. He intends to sleep for a couple of hours and then pack up a few more necessities and leave.

So of course, when he gets out of the bathroom he hears a knock on the front door.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. There is only one person that could be. Well conceivably there are five people that could be. But it's narrowed down to one since there is only one person who wouldn't wait for Alex to open the door before opening it himself.

Alex ignores the new person in the house and drops his dirty clothes inside of the washer and puts it to wash. Luckily the machine is loud enough that it'll remind Alex to put the clothes to dry before he falls asleep.

He walks out of his bedroom, and finds Michael sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he hunches over, looking down to the floor. He's still wearing Alex's shirt, that they'd switched at the hospital, after Alex had seen that there were spots of blood on his. They wouldn't take his shirt, but better safe than sorry.

Alex spots the thick folded stack of paper on top of the table and tries, very, very hard not to sigh.

"Tag you're it," Michael says, straightening up and looking at Alex.

He looks tired, but better than he did when he was lying back in a hospital bed. Alex had never wanted to see Michael in one. 

"You lied to me," Alex says, instead of grabbing the divorce papers and shoving them into the paper shredder in his office.

Michael shrugs, "I didn't lie exactly. I just let you believe what you wanted to believe."

Alex doesn't stop the sigh that falls out of his mouth this time.

Alex really only has himself to blame here.

"I don't understand why you couldn't just file them," Alex says, maybe a bit plaintive. He gave the papers to Michael for a reason.

Michael shrugs and leans back on the couch, "My reasons for marrying you haven't changed."

Alex makes a face at his own words being used against him. Especially since they were now, somehow, on opposite sides of this fight, once again.

"But your dad is dead now," he continues, trying to look nonchalant, but Alex can see right through him. "So all of your reasons are void. So you shouldn't have any more issues."

Alex walks away from him, heading towards the kitchen. He cannot have this conversation sober.

Michael walks into the kitchen when Alex is done pouring some bourbon into two glasses.

Alex grabs his glass and downs his drink, thinking about pouring himself another when Michael pushes his glass closer to Alex with just a flick of his fingers.

Alex grabs the glass and downs the drink before he can second guess himself.

Alex sets the glass down and turns to face Michael, who leans back against the island counter facing Alex.

"Why did you lie to me?" Alex asks before Michael can say anything.

Michael sighs, "There just never seemed to be a time to go do it, and if I'm being honest, there was never a reason important enough to do it."

Alex doesn't say that Michael just spent months in a serious relationship with someone else.

"And also I wanted to see if you would come when I called if you thought I wasn't your husband," he says, grinning at Alex as though it's a joke.

Alex wraps his fingers around the bottle of bourbon, tempted to pour himself another glass.

Michael reaches out and wraps his hand around Alex's, stopping him from moving.

"Michael," Alex says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Alex," Michael responds in the same tone.

They stare at each other in silence for too long minutes. Alex's hand tingles where it's trapped beneath Michael's, and his eyes drop to Michael's lips, that part as he stares as though Alex's gaze is a physical touch.

Alex vividly remembers the last time that he kissed Michael and he wishes he didn't.

"You were in the hospital today," Alex says, slipping his hand out from beneath Michael's and taking a step back.

"Extenuating circumstances," Michael says immediately, leaning heavily against the counter.

"Still, the only reason that you’re not playing lab rat is because of the special privileges granted to you by our marriage."

Michael opens his mouth, a familiar teasing look on his face, but Alex cuts him off before he can say anything.

"Don't."

Michael just lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender, pushing away from the counter.

Michael stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jeans, rocking back on his heels.

"So," he starts stretching out the o sound.

"So," Alex repeats shortly. "It seems like we're at an impasse."

They stare at each other in silence once again, but Alex is unwilling to break it this time. Because he might just cross the space between them and kiss him.

Luckily, Michael speaks before too long, "I know you're going to leave again."

Alex inhales sharply.

"But I know you're coming back," Michael continues, taking a step closer to Alex, who remains frozen, staring at Michael like he's prey in the eyes of a predator. "And maybe you'll go on dates with someone else, and maybe you'll fall in love."

Michael looks away at that, and only then does Alex feel like he is breathing again.

"But whether you file those papers or not, once you've figured out exactly what it is that you want, I'll be here."

He turns back to face him at those last three words, and Alex finds himself trapped all over again.

"And this time we won't have the excuse of not being able to communicate," he continues, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket and placing it on top of the counter. "You can reach me anytime."

"You expect me to believe that you actually got a phone that you're actually going to use as intended and not as a paperweight?"

Michael rolls his eyes, "Answering the phone might be difficult sometimes, but if you text me, I'll always answer back."

Alex scoffs at that. 

If Michael doesn't answer the phone immediately, he can be counted on to call back anywhere between five to nine business days, if he doesn't by then, he'll never do it. And texting is definitely out of the question when it takes him ten whole minutes to type out a single sentence. Alex has seen it happen, and has seen the frustration on Michael's face.

"It's a phone better suited for texting," Michael says, grinning when Alex's eyes dart up to his surprise. "Izzy came with me when I got it."

Alex shakes his head, but he reaches out for the piece of paper anyway.

Michael's smile gets a little wider, "So, call me or text me, whenever you want. And maybe, we can be friends?"

Alex gives him a look at that.

"To start with," he continued, smile turning sly. "And eventually, I'll ask you to either renew our vows one more time, or to marry me again."

Alex stutters out a disbelieving laugh, feeling warmth flicker in his chest in spite of himself. "Oh is that how it's going to be?"

"Yeah," Michael says, easily. "And when that happens, I'm never giving you the chance to file for divorce again, so you should probably do it while you still have the chance.

"But while we're still here," he continues, moving in too close, too fast and pressing a kiss to Alex's cheek. "Happy Anniversary, Mr. Guerin."

Alex gasps, heart thundering in his throat, as Michael leans away and smiles at him.

And because he absolutely needs to have the last word always, he rocks backwards and away, "See you later, Private."

He waves as he goes, smiling all the way, entirely too sweet. He walks down the hall and out the front door, humming a familiar melody that sends Alex's heart tripping all over itself.

Alex barely resists the urge to follow him out and press him down against the side of his truck.

Alex would like to bristle at the implication that no matter what he decides to do he's gonna end up married to Michael, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't feel happy about the thought.

Alex shakes his head and glances at the bottle of bourbon.

The alarm for the washing machine goes off, signaling that it's done.

Alex takes it as a sign that he's not supposed to drink any more, and sets about to clean up the kitchen, washing the glasses and putting the bourbon away.

March 2020

Forrest really likes Alex. 

If he didn't, he wouldn't have waited almost a full year for him to return back to Roswell so they could actually give this dating thing a try. 

Forrest is not naive, and he hadn't wanted to start something with Alex when he was just coming to terms with being more open with his sexuality. Not to mention the fact, still very obviously getting over his previous relationship. So he'd told Alex that they'd talk when he got back, and had kept communication open the entire year. And he'd felt like they had gotten closer, and that Alex was ready to actually be in a relationship with him.

That was until he realized how stuck to his phone Alex still was. How it seemed like he was keeping secrets. Secrets that involve Michael, who Forrest has been reliably informed by multiple sources, is the first love of Alex's life.

It's not that Forrest actually has a problem with Michael or Michael and Alex being friends. His only issue is all of the secrecy. Everything he's learned about Alex's past relationship with Michael has been by accident.

And sometimes he wished that Alex was more open about it.

He followed Alex home after their date, that wasn't a date since Alex spent half of it frowning at his phone like it had personally offended him and the other half playfully bantering with Isobel and teasing Kyle when they'd dragged their table over after they'd gotten sat down.

Forrest wasn't mad at the impromptu company for dinner. But there was an important conversation he had wanted to have with Alex, something that really couldn't wait since he was leaving tomorrow and had yet to pack anything. Which was the main reason he'd followed Alex home.

Alex gets out of his car, and inclines his head towards the house. Forrest almost scrambles out of his car going after him.

Alex stops before opening the front door, picking up a package from where it was on top of a stool that was just to the left of the front door.

Alex doesn't say much, asking him if he wants something to drink as he lets them both into the house, which Forrest accepts since it means that Alex doesn't expect him to leave.

At least that's what he thinks until Alex pulls out a glass jug filled halfway with lemon and cucumber slices floating in water.

Forrest stares in silence as Alex fills two glasses, and then sighs as he sets the jug down and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

"We need to talk," Forrest blurts out.

Alex takes a moment to look away from his phone, brow furrowed, before he seems to understand what Forrest said.

His face clears and he sets his phone down. Forrest's eyes drop to it, and he sees the dark screen light up with a new message, the notification totalling to 8 new messages.

Forrest's eyes darted away from the screen and to the package that was resting on the counter. The box looked old, and it was tapped together haphazardly, and instead of a shipping label, there were letters and numbers scrawled on the side: cat:mg:work22.

He looks back to Alex who is once again frowning at his phone.

"Have you thought about what I told you?"

Alex looks away from his phone and frowns at Forrest instead, finally giving him an emotion other than pleasantly passive.

"Which part are you talking about?" Alex asks, like he's confused.

Forrest thinks back to this moment as the moment that he actually realized that he and Alex weren't going to last much longer. But he also thinks that the signs were there from the very beginning.

"It's only one thing, Alex," he replies, putting a hand on the counter and leaning closer. 

Alex just looks at him like he's still confused about what Forrest is trying to say. 

His phone rings then, and Forrest barely sees the blurry contact picture as Alex snatches the phone up. But he'd recognize that cowboy hat anywhere. 

Alex doesn't answer the call immediately, even though it's obvious that's what he wants to do.

"Can you just give me a second?"

Forrest usually would, but he's leaving tomorrow, and Alex seems less than concerned.

"Don't you think answering your boyfriend's question is more important than answering a random phone call?"

Alex's face shuts down in a way that catches Forrest by surprise.

"Okay," he says nodding once, holding his phone tightly in his hands. 

"First of all, you know enough to know that any random phone call could be an emergency."

And really, Forrest should've stopped him there and apologized or something, but Alex just kept talking before he could think of anything else to say.

"Second of all," Alex continued, holding up two fingers. "We're not boyfriends, we went on a couple of dates. Boyfriends is something that we'd have to talk about and what would be the point of doing that when you're leaving tomorrow."

The pointed barb paired with that pointed look is what finally makes Forrest speak.

"So, I guess that's your decision then," he says, feeling upset, but not as much as he'd thought he'd be. "You're not coming with me."

Alex's face cracks a little, and he gives Forrest a complicated look, "I'm letting Deep Sky recruit me."

The words were both surprising and not.

"I'm sorry," Alex says before Forrest can process what he's saying. "But I really have to take this call."

He's making a hasty exit out of his kitchen before Forrest can stop him.

"Is this a life or death situation?" Alex asks as he answers the call, and Forrest doesn't hear a door opening or closing, so he doesn't feel guilty about leaning against the island counter and listening to the conversation.

"I'm listening," he says, and Forrest can see him, leaning back against his closed door, face tilted, eyes closed.

Forrest turns back into the kitchen, eyes darting around everywhere looking for a distraction, and he finds another box sat upon another stool that matches the one that was by the front door. This one was labeled cat:ag:pers33.

Resting on top was an unlabeled folder with several sheets of paper poking out of the top.

He's debating whether or not to go snooping, when Alex laughs, at whatever whoever is on the other side of this, important could-be-an-emergency phone call was saying.

He finds himself opening the folder before he can tell himself that it's a bad idea.

And if he'd thought things between them were over, this was definitely the final nail in the coffin.

It takes him a second to realize what exactly he's reading, even though the words, Dissolution of Marriage don't leave much to interpretation.

Forrest stares at the name Alexander Guerin for so long that he startles when he hears Alex speaking from behind him.

"Sorry about that, what were we talking about?"

Forrest barely hears what he's actually saying, "You were married to Michael?"

"Still married," Alex corrects absently. And it's the casual way that he says the words that has Forrest whipping around to face him.

Alex isn't even looking at him. He's staring at his phone reading a message that was probably from Michael after spending the entire evening being distracted by messages, probably from Michael, who was also probably the same person who he just finished talking to on the phone.

Michael. Who is apparently Alex's husband.

"Still married?" Forrest repeats, and Alex looks up then.

His eyes drop to the folder still in Forrest's hands and an exasperated look comes over his face.

"Have you ever heard of the word privacy?"

"Have you ever heard of not answering a question with a question?" Forrest parries back, almost desperately.

Alex rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

"Yes," Alex says. "I am married to Michael. Technically separated. But it doesn't matter."

"You think it doesn't matter that you're married while dating someone else?" Forrest asks, feeling not for the first time that he has no idea who Alex really is.

"Yes," Alex says like it should be obvious, walking forward and holding his hands out for the folder.

Forrest doesn't want to give them to him, but he also doesn't want to keep holding them.

He passes the folder over while Alex keeps speaking.

"If our relationship had become more serious I would've said something, but there's no point now."

He stands at attention, folder closed and set aside, and Forrest didn't even realize just how open Alex's body language had been towards him, until this very moment, when he saw how closed off he was.

"Because you're not coming with me," Forrest says, just to get a direct clarification.

Alex just inclines his head without speaking.

"Because of your husband?" Forrest questions, needing to be sure.

Alex sighs, "Yes, but not in the way that you're thinking. And not in any way that I have to justify to you. Not anymore."

Forrest shakes his head, feeling both wrong footed and like he should've seen this coming a mile away.

"So that's it then," he says, trying not to sound as hurt as he feels and most likely failing by the look on Alex's face. "We're done."

"I am sorry," Alex says, sounding sincere. "I really wanted this to work."

"Did you really?" Forrest finds himself asking before he can stop himself. "Or were you just stringing me along until your husband decides to take you back?"

Alex scoffs at that, lifting an eyebrow and shaking his head, "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Forrest demands taking a step towards Alex. "You string me along for a year, and then once you're finally home, and we can start making things work, you're too distracted by your phone to pay attention. And I really don't have to guess to know that it's your husband on the other end."

"Stop calling him that," Alex snaps. "Michael and I don't have a conventional relationship. We've never even really lived together. Our marriage is on paper only. For reasons that once again, aren't any of your concern.

"And it doesn't matter anyway," he continues. "Even if you hadn't found the papers, this would've still been over. Because you're leaving, and I'm staying."

Forrest scoffs, "And is that the same sentiment you gave Michael when you left when you were eighteen?"

He knows it's a mistake even before he says the words, and instead of provoking Alex, all it does is make him shut down entirely.

"Okay, I think you should leave," he says, moving so that he's not standing in Forrest's way, but also not turning his back to him.

Forrest wants to stay and he wants to fight. He wants to beg Alex to give him an actual chance. But Alex doesn't look back at him, and he knows that whatever small chance he had at making this work died long before tonight.

He exhales harshly, "Goodbye Alex. I hope you have a great life."

He walks away before he can say anything else, and the sound of deafening silence follows him out of the house.

[ishouldgay]

Hi. Listen to my fic idea;

The gang utterly fails to stop the Dead Three and Shadowheart, the ‘leader’ of the group (as there is no Tav) is the only one left alive at the end. Due to how this ending kinda ruins the world, as becoming Mind Flayers destroys the soul etc etc Shadowheart is thus sent back in time to fix this.

She is warned that changing too much before the events of BG3 will go badly (She can’t simply build her own army, for an example.) Some things are simply fated to occur, even if she doesn’t know what those fated moments are. (IE; Karlach will always end up in the Hells) She is given a few ‘pause’ buttons, which freezes everything besides what/who she wants— and it’s truly everything, even gods can’t see what is happening when she uses it.

Shadowheart arrives about 30 years before the events of BG3. She decides that the best way to change the events of BG3 is to be there again but she can’t simply wait. Instead she comes up with the idea that she’ll take her own place in that fated quest to steal the githyanki artifact. Being in the Sharran cult will also give her more information on the ongoings of the city and hopefully some influence to change some things.

As Shadowheart had abandoned Shar, mostly due to the influence of her (tragic) romance with Karlach, she is aware of how hard this plan will be.

First thing she does is build up a trail for herself to follow before she starts her worship of Shar. It isn’t uncommon that those beginning to fall into Shar’s darkness to be uncertain and she is no stranger to lying to herself so she manages to pass under the radar.

But to take her own place she had to be more than a simple follower. After a while of building some trust she starts to ‘follow’ the trail that she laid down that would allow her to become a Dark Justiciar. As she already knew how to survive the darkness around the temple, and how to complete the tests it wasn’t hard. This is still before everything with the Dead Three happens, so she only has the curse to deal with.

She carefully makes sure that she never stumbles upon any mention of Shar’s spear, and as Shar intended that to be her champion’s reward which Shadowheart isn’t, it goes unmentioned.

Her future plans rest on her killing Dame Aylin, who is of course pissed off. Shadowheart uses one of her precious pause buttons to speak with her. She is still a follower of Selûne, deep within her heart and knows that killing Aylin will essentially cause her to lose that forever, as Selûne will never forgive her. Aylin allows her to kill her (SH saying she could only do it if she agreed) after Shadowheart tells her that by doing so Isobel would be raised.

From there Shadowheart rejoins her old cult and over time finds a way to release her parents without implicating herself, then her younger self. This time period is extremely hard on her, as she has to participate in a lot of dark rituals and other things she doesn’t want to do. She uses her pause button only once, when she simply can’t handle torturing her parents when it was ended to ensure they escaped. She promises to find them after her mission is done, having the chance now that they weren’t chained yet.

She tries to change more things but most aren’t possible. IE; she manages to keep Karlach’s parents alive yet she ends up in the Hells anyway.

She eventually goes on the mission to get the artifact and the second they get Withers she pays him to ‘change’ her class. Not daring to face Selûne, she becomes a paladin instead. That way she has the same kind of built in moral compass yet doesn’t have to swear her faith in a god.

[vanivanvanilla]

doodled some guys from all of us villains/all of our demise ^_^ might alter them a bit later but here's my current designs (alistair's curse design under cut)

in order: alistair, gavin, isobel, briony, finley, reid

he

[sankttealeaf]

was going to sleep but then my brain went "hey. dont worry. heres a fucked up durge/ketheric idea. good night" and now i cant stop thinking about it

[blackjackkent]

"Tsk'va!" Lae'zel shouts with dismay as the battle is joined. "Thorm can't die while Nightsong's still caged."

And indeed, at the far side of the platform where Ketheric has planted himself, there is a swirl of familiar magic. Aylin, recaptured on the rooftop, has been thrown back into her cage, the necromantic power dragging her immortality into the general's body.

Were Rakha more coherent at present, perhaps she would register this, but she has been in terrible pain and under terrible tension for several straight days. With the final opening of hostilities between herself and Ketheric at last, she barely notices Lae'zel's words, or anything besides her target.

She surges up onto the platform and into Ketheric's face with an explosion of fire out of the palms of her hands.

Lae'zel growls low in the back of her throat, flashing back suddenly to the first day she ever knew Rakha - another burst of fire as Rakha hurled herself at the mind flayer in the center of the nautiloid's bridge, leaving Lae'zel to dash for the control console.

"G'lyck... tas'ki, t'rac'shka... not again," she mutters, and vanishes, Misty Step-ing past the platform to appear at the Nightsong's side.

"Free me," growls the aasimar as Lae'zel shimmers into being next to her. "Set Dame Aylin free to wreak her bloody vengeance and set her boot upon the head of that accursed--"

"Yes, yes," Lae'zel says impatiently, grabbing the huge armored woman by the arm and yanking her free of the cage. "There is a line; you will have to get in it."

-----

Rakha pays very little heed to any of this. Her focus is only on Ketheric; she is dimly aware only that the fire of her spells takes root suddenly and begins to burn along Ketheric's flesh, through his hair. Minthara, at her side, is equally single-minded, her blade flashing out, clashing against the metal of the general's hammer, sending sparks flying along the platform. Behind them, Wyll's magic chews away at the mind flayers and intellect devourers that emerge, screaming in fury, from the room's shadowed corners.

"KETHERIC THORM! FACE ME!" bellows the Nightsong, climbing up to the platform at Lae'zel's side. Around her, a bright glow of icy moonlight flares, vaporizing several of the intellect devourers that swarm towards them.

Lae'zel can see Rakha's head swivel just a little at this - the only thing that can distract her from her vengeance, the touch of new magic flooding the battlefield. Something loosens in the half-orc's face, just for a moment and then with renewed energy she sends a bolt of lightning directly into Ketheric's eyes.

The battle grows faster, more hectic, terrifyingly chaotic. Between spells, Rakha briefly seems to vanish from the battlefield, followed by Minthara, followed by for a moment Lae'zel herself, her head swimming into a strange negative version of the world full of distant howls. For every blow they strike against Ketheric, he strikes back just as hard, glimmering blows of necromantically-infused divine smites that detonate like bombs.

And then... suddenly, stillness.

-----

Minthara's blade sinks deep into Ketheric's chest and he staggers. Putrid black blood pours out over her sword, over her wrist, steaming as it puddles on the rocky floor beneath him.

His eyebrows lift - a flash of fear, and then his face settles into cold mockery. "What a fool you are," he rasps, looking from Minthara to Rakha to the others at a greater distance. "You cannot kill me. I am eternal!"

With a wrenching motion he jerks backwards, pulling himself off of the blade, letting the blood pour in waves down his armor. He spreads his arms to both sides, looks up with a wild, maniacal gaze into the arching roof of the cavern.

"Myrkul! Lord of Bones!" he cries. There's a wet, bubbling liquid sound in his voice, but the words are clear, fervent, desperate. "I am here! I am ready!"

Rakha realizes what he is about to do, too late to stop it.

He lets himself fall backwards, down into the deep pit that sits at the center of the cavern, glowing with that pale green light that illuminates the brining pools.

She darts forward to the edge of the pit, her mind flaring for a moment with the beast's uncontrollable rage - how dare you deny me the final blow that splits your skull? how dare you deny this mad dog her teeth in your throat?

But he's gone. And as she peers down into that bottomless, glowing pit, a voice rings in her head. A new voice - not the Absolute, not the guardian, not the tadpole, not the beast, but something entirely new, basso and rumbling and full of icy malice.

"YOU DARE END ONE WHO BELONGS TO ME?"

Her head rings with it. Even the tadpole for a moment seems to cower as it clangs like a gong through her skull.

"I AM THE SMILE OF THE WORM-CLEANSED SKULL. I AM THE REGRETS OF THOSE WHO REMAIN, AND THE RESTLESSNESS OF THOSE WHO ARE GONE."

"I AM THE HAUNT OF MAUSOLEUMS, THE GOD OF GRAVES AND AGE, OF DUST AND DARK."

An enormous skeletal hand lifts out of the pit. Then another. And then before her rises the great bulk of a creature of bone and metal that she has no name for. It reeks of incense and decay, and for once all her rage is lost beneath a primal wave of fear.

"I AM MYRKUL, LORD OF BONES, AND YOU HAVE SLAIN MY CHOSEN! BUT IT IS NO MATTER. FOR I AM DEATH - AND I AM NOT THE END. I AM A BEGINNING."

"The Triad help us..." Wyll whispers.

Rakha tries to swallow in a throat suddenly as dry as those bones. What is that thing? What is happening?

There is no time for more questions. No time even for the beast's rage, because this creature will not bleed. One of those skeletal arms smashes downwards, narrowly missing her head - and she begins a fight not for vengeance but for her life.

[reliquiaenfr]

so i've been working on baldur's gate 3 fandragons for... a while now. many of these ones i have (only missing gale, wyll, withers, and alfira) but you see the problem is idk if i care about them enough anymore. the dragons i've got are just sitting in hibden purgatory, ungened and unloved and... idk that i want to gene them.

every time i think 'maybe i'll just keep x' then i think i have to keep y and then z and then i'm thinking about how much i want them all and also i need these other characters. you feel me? there are so many characters in bg3 and i'm like... i don't think i want them all. i don't want to go down that rabbit hole.

anyway, i might be getting rid of these guys. i've deleted the scries and outfits from my library, but i wanted to save the images somewhere at least. for posterity. because i put so much effort into all of them. maybe that will help me let them go

[danielnelsen]

hm. well. im playing on balanced difficulty but with enemies using tactician abilities and. not sure i can beat ketheric/apostle. it's a rough one lads

[mbccari]

I started Reverse 1999 as the lesbian deities intended. I'm not enjoying it as much as ptn but it's fun, and Tennant and Argus were really good motivations to play so I'm fine 🫰

[deer-with-a-stick]

on one hand, if larian gave us raw rules for revivify/raise dead, you could do things like save Duke Ravengard without Mizora (ignore her, go to Iron Throne where he's going to be dead for some stupid reason, cast Raise Dead with a diamonds and boom. you can't tell me that he's been dead for more than 10 days when you find him) or just revive random NPCs for fun but on the other hand dear god the chaos

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Successfully gaslight, gatekeep, girlbossed Jaheira into staying after killing Isobel, but Shadowheart and Gale yelled at Ashe, so now she's sitting in a corner in Slayer form poking her fingers together and thinking about her choices.

Then Astarion told her to keep her claws away and also that Slayer form smells like ass. Just immediate back to back psychic damage, but Minthara 100% got it and was actually quite proud.

[perce-jpg]

time to go beat up serevok

[crossdressingdeath]

At some point I'm going to have to write Kyvir going to sleep the night after rejecting Bhaal and being delighted to the point of crying tears of joy when for the first time in far too long he doesn't have a single nightmare.

[thesquidkid]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Isabel Evans | Isobel Evans/Anatsa Mufaro Characters: Isabel Evans | Isobel Evans, Anatsa Mufaro Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Paris (City), (with how much i talk about paris it deserves its own tag), Starting Over, Getting Back Together, Road Trips Series: Part 3 of shiny happy people holding hands, Part 6 of You are the Superwoman to my Lois Lane Summary:

Anatsa is in Paris for work. Isobel is in Paris on vacation. They haven't talked to each other in months, Isobel broke Anatsa's heart. They both flew five thousand miles to get away from New Mexico and memories of the other. And yet. They were never really that far away.

(Can be read independently in the Superwoman to my Lois Lane series)

[teiasviago]

okay like yes a part of the song is very astarion BUT the whole song is clearly for aylin and isobel like