#her and isobel make me tear up every time

[fitzbean]

dame aylin art because she's pretty and have wings

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 3

Gale Dekarios x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Smuuuuut baby (but also plot). Little bit of angst, Gale talking about blowing himself up

Author’s Note: Listen I know this is going a bit fast but I also just. Couldn’t prolong it. I love him too much.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go

I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home…

Gale had held his realization close to his heart for the time being. He had to, if anything because he simply needed time to process that the Fates had aligned enough to bring him and his bard together. The divine had not been kind to Gale in so long —yet, as it would be, they decided that Tav would be there to save him that day.

Even if he wanted to address it, to reveal how he felt and who he was to her, none of that was able to come to fruition once they saved Halsin. Of course, the Fates decided to be just as cruel as ever when Elminster appeared in the camp shortly after they saved the druid, breaking the news that Mystra wanted Gale to give his life to stop the Absolute.

Tav’s reaction was…well, it was incredibly reassuring, honestly. Heartbreaking, but reassuring. She had ripped Elminster a new one, yelling at the legendary wizard that it was not Mystra’s choice to have Gale off himself in her fucking name. That they would find another way to stop the Absolute that didn’t involve him dying. The tears in her eyes, the rage that radiated off her –Gale realized that even if she didn’t know he wrote that missive to her, she felt strongly for him.

And of course, even after Elminster disappeared from camp, they couldn’t settle down to discuss everything. Almost immediately, they had found themselves thrown into yet another quest –now moving them into an awful, shadow-cursed land that threatened to consume every single one of them whole.

Literally.

The shadows literally threatened to consume them.

As Gale trudged through the shadow-cursed land, his mind buzzed with conflicting emotions. The weight of his unspoken feelings for Tav bore down on him like the darkness that surrounded them. He stole glances at her whenever he could, drinking in her every movement, her every word, with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Amidst the palpable tension, he couldn't shake off the feeling that every step they took brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation, not just with the shadowy threats around them, but with the truths he had kept hidden.

Even with the help of the lantern and Karniss, the guide they had trusted to lead them, the trip felt far more perilous than it should have. Every minute they spent fighting harpers, or beasts, or shadows was another minute that they risked losing their lives. And, more so, he worried with every step and every fight that he would risk losing her again –and more permanently this time. The shadows seemed to whisper his fears back to him, amplifying the relentless doubts that gnawed at his resolve.

But no time seemed to be a good time to pull her aside, to admit to her that he was the one who sent that missive from Waterdeep. There was always someone else with her, and they hadn’t been able to make camp yet or else risk their lives with the shadows. They needed to make it to Last Light Inn in order to make camp, and truly there was no actual path that led to the inn safely. The urgency of their mission, coupled with the ever-looming threat, left little room for the heartfelt confession he yearned to make.

And then, naturally, when they did manage to find themselves at the Inn, they were ambushed. Naturally, they broke out in a fight that almost killed every single one of them. Even if they did manage to save Isobel, and even if they did manage to stop the shadows from consuming all the harpers –they had to fight to the last breath before they had properly rested and Gale thought truly, this might be the end of them. And naturally, they had to go find Ketheric Thorm and stop him now in order to actually stop whatever this curse was in this horrible place. The relentless onslaught of challenges seemed to conspire against any chance for a moment of respite, let alone a moment for personal revelations.

Naturally. Naturally. 

Gale wanted so badly to curse Tav’s incessant need to get herself almost killed in order to save others. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her and beg the bard to stop, and consider herself for five minutes. Consider how people –how he would feel if she died and they could not save her. Did she have no regard for herself? Did she have no regard for her own safety? 

But he couldn’t. 

Because the very incessant need to help and ensure everyone’s safety was one of the many qualities he admired about her very existence. 

Tav was kind, and loyal, and he was painfully in love with someone who had no idea it was him that wrote that damn note, that she had saved his life long before she was saving the lives of everyone around her. Watching her fight stirred every emotion inside of him –pride, awe, lust –and he couldn’t bottle it all up any longer.

When the fight had finally ended –when the blood was spilled all over the courtyard of the inn and his companions caught their breaths and all but collapsed against one another –he was resolved to give in. Orb be damned, he was going to tell Tav he loved her because he had to if they were going to keep on the way they were.

*****

“Hello! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He is requesting a private conversation with you, if you would oblige.”

Tav stared up at the image of Gale before her. It glowed with an aura that was unmistakably magic, though it was so drastically similar that from a distance, she was certain it was him when she approached.

“Oh, uh –yeah, of course. Where is he?”

The image of the wizard motioned towards a path outside of camp. “Just down the path. If you would like, I will happily guide you.”

She nodded, motioning for it to lead the way. The image moved freely, walking through camp without issue. Shadowheart and Lae’Zel both gave her strange looks, following Gale’s magical counterpart with their eyes as the two passed by. Tav simply shrugged in response and continued on her way, until the path was well out of camp and the image of Gale was replaced by the actual man.

He sat with his legs crossed, hands moving through the air as he manipulated the sky above him to form a night sky and borealis. Tav smiled softly at the sight, slowly sitting down beside him with her knees to her chest. 

“I love this time of night,” he explained as if answering the question she had not asked. “There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, where you’d almost believe the dawn will never break. The cradle of eternity; the timelessness of lovers; the most beautiful of fantasies.” 

She watched him for a moment before looking back up at the sky. “It’s breathtaking. Is it your doing?”

He nodded once, but she could feel his gaze on her. “The curse is still present, of course. Just veiled and at arm’s length. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight…tonight is different.”

For a moment, they simply watched each other with soft smiles. Sometimes, she wished that he was less captivating or sweet; it made life so much more difficult for her when she was trying to keep feelings for him at bay. But then he went and did things like this –created beauty in a place that was so broken –and Tav found herself further drawn into her feelings for him.

“This may be my last night alive,” he explained, though his voice was soft. “I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty of wonder and with company to match.”

Her brow furrowed as she opened her mouth to argue, to remind him that she would not let him die but he interrupted her.

“I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought…it might make the weight of what I must do to feel a little lighter. But I am not so sure.”

“I refuse to believe that this is the end, Gale. I refuse to let you die for the promise of forgiveness from a goddess who cast you out.”

“Babe or crone, coward or hero…death is assured, Tav. If you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure it had meaning?”

“Gale –,”

“I am terrified,” he interrupted once again. “I will not claim otherwise. My face could scarcely conceal it even if my words ought to deny it. There is no point in running from the inevitable; Better to meet it, on my own terms.”

“No,” she snapped at him, grabbing his hand in hers. Her heart ached, thinking that Gale had resigned himself to death even before considering the other options. Not that she knew what those options were, but they were better than dying. “Nothing is inevitable. Not when we face it together. You don’t have to die.”

“One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, Tav.” It was as if he wasn’t even hearing her; that he was so certain of his fate that he was just reciting his lines to her. “And I am very happy you came here tonight, to share this with me.  I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me.”

Of course she knew. He made it clear, even if he never explicitly said it. Gale cared for her –loved her, even, if she dared assume –and it showed in his actions every day. Perhaps she should have told him to stop sooner; that she wasn’t spoken for but her heart belonged to her poet. But it was hard to walk away from someone so warm, and caring. And after her own heartbreak, having someone who gave her everything he had even when she didn’t deserve it –she knew there was love for him in her own heart now too.

“If things were different, if you were still performing and we were home, I would have done things properly. I would have never written that note, I would have found you before all this. But time is short, and I…I need you to know that I was enchanted to meet you, Tav.”

For a brief moment, everything stopped. 

Gale was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to say something; to respond. But her mind was stuck. I would have never written that note. I was enchanted to meet you…

“You…it was you?” She managed to ask, her voice catching in her throat as she finally looked up at him. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she fished her parchment out of her pocket, unfolding it. “You wrote this?”

He took the note from her, tears pricking his eyes too, as he read it over. He nodded slowly. “I listened to you sing every night for weeks, Tav. You know I trapped myself in my tower –but you don’t know that it was you that made me leave for the first time in a year. That when I left that day, it was to find you and tell you how much your music healed my broken heart. I’m just pleasantly surprised the kobold managed to actually deliver the note.

“You added lines to it the other night,” he continued, reaching up to take her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped away her tears as she leaned into his touch, still crying. “You asked me not to be in love with someone else –to not have someone waiting for me. Tav –I have been waiting for you. And if I’m going to live my last day, I need you to know that I am in love with you.”

Through tear blurred eyes, Tav took in every detail of Gale’s sincerity. The spark in his eyes as he looked down at her, with his own tears that threatened to spill. The adoration that filled his smile as he held her face in his hands still. He loved her; he was her poet, and he loved her, and Tav was going to lose him because of some petty goddess who wanted him to beg for her forgiveness.

Without thinking any harder, she surged forward and kissed him hard. Gale let out a small gasp of surprise, seemingly not expecting her to kiss him, but soon enough he was threading his fingers through her hair to hold her closer. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him as close as she could get him without climbing into his lap –and even then, she was almost there anyway.

But he pulled away too soon, resting his forehead against hers. Tav’s tears hadn’t stopped, though she wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy or fear anymore. 

“I hope that wasn’t a parting kiss,” she murmured, pressing another one against the corner of his mouth gently. 

“Not if I have any say in the matter,” he chuckled, wiping her tears away again. “I want it to be perfect –to bond with you in the way that gods do…intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.”

Gale stood, pulling her up with him. She refused to let him go, arms still tightly wound around neck, keeping him close to her. “I don’t need illusions. I want the Gale standing right in front of me.”

“Are you sure?” He seemed surprised, brow furrowing as his fingers reached for her hips, holding her just as tight. “I could conjure up any sight you can imagine; some you probably can’t too. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning.”

He leaned in closer, his nose bumping against hers. “I could do more than woo you. I could wow you.”

She hesitated a moment, considering what he was offering. “I suppose you could show me, if that’s what you want.”

He squeezed her hips with a bright grin, then pulled away raising his hands in the air. Streaks of the Weave surrounded them momentarily, then they were standing in a room full of books and scrolls, with a piano playing quietly in the background. 

“How about a perfect night in Waterdeep, then?” He asked, reaching for her hand to guide her through what she could only assume was his home. It felt very much like a place that Gale would enjoy. “With the warmth of the fire in the hearth, and the spines of a thousand books greeting us.” He pushed the double doors open, exposing the balcony and the sunlight on the water. 

“I’ve seen this before!” She exclaimed, pushing past him to lean over the edge of the balcony. “I performed right down there, with the circus.” She pointed down to the courtyard below, where a stage had appeared. 

Gale wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back into his embrace, sighing contentedly. “I spent many evenings listening to you from my balcony, Tav. Mesmerized by how well you pulled at my own heartbreak with yours. I couldn’t see you, but I could hear you.

“Some nights, I’d simply sit out here and get lost in the pages of a book while listening to your voice. It haunted my dreams, day and night. I had been so consumed with my self loathing and the orb that I feared stepping foot outside my tower —but your voice brought me light in my darkest days.”

Gale pulled her away from the balcony, beckoning her to the settee where he pulled her into his lap. Tav sighed, burying her face into the crook of his neck as he lifted the book that rested beside him. 

“One of my favorites,” he explained, opening it up to show her. “It follows the first thousand nights of a newlywed king and queen. They make an art out of touch, out of taste –perhaps we should take a page from their book ourselves. What do you say?”

Tav giggled, reaching up to run her nails over his jaw. “I don’t see a bed.”

“The stars will be our bed.”

Her brow furrowed for a moment as she shook her head. “Gale, this is beautiful, and I am wholly impressed by everything you can do –but I want you. The real you. Not some conjuring within the Weave.”

“Tav, I am nothing special in comparison to what I can show you –,”

“You are very special, Gale,” she scolded, pulling herself from his arms. “To me, especially. And I don’t want to experience anything with you that’s not real.”

He nodded, eyes softening as the tower disappeared around them and they returned to the field that they were truly in. “Then we’ll do it your way, my love. Whatever you desire from me, I will give you.”

Though, the devilish grin of his suggested he still had a trick up his sleeve as he waved his hand. She gave him a pointed look but nothing around them changed –except for the appearance of a very extravagant, four poster bed. Tav looked it over before grinning at him.

“For your comfort, of course,” he explained simply, guiding her backwards towards it. “I would be remiss if you had to lay in the dirt to be with me.”

“Perhaps I like laying in the dirt,” she teased, taking his face in her hands to pull him into a kiss. “Perhaps I enjoy getting a bit dirty.”

“You’ll have to prove that to me another night,” Gale countered, pushing her back onto the velvety sheets. For an illusion, it was still much more comfortable than any bedroll she’d lain on. “Tonight, I want you to feel my love for you.”

She fell back onto the bed, hitting the pillows and basking in the plushness that she hadn’t felt in so long. Sitting up on her elbow, she beckoned for him to join her and smiled when he didn’t hesitate to climb over her. 

Like a man starved, Gale pulled her in by her chin and kissed her passionately. This kiss was different from the one they had shared earlier in the night. This kiss was frantic and hungry, with every emotion the two had poured into it. He was kissing her like this was the last time he ever would –though if he had it his way, perhaps it would be. Tav parted her legs, hitching one over his hip to pull him closer to her. There was too much space between them; too many clothes. Her hands drifted down his chest, pulling the laces of his shirt undone as she went, exposing not only the expanse of his chest but the markings of the cursed orb that threatened to take him from her.

Hand dropping from her chin to unlace her bodice and pants, Gale pulled away from the kiss to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat and over her chest as the skin became more exposed to him. She squirmed some, trying to pull his shirt off as her own shirt lay open finally. He chuckled against her skin, his beard tickling at the base of her throat as he pulled back and pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. 

Then he moved to hover over her, hands resting on either side of her body now as he looked over her naked form lovingly. Bare beneath him – she thought she should be shying away from his gaze, but she couldn’t find herself feeling anything less than adored –Tav reached out to ensure they matched each other’s nakedness finally. And when Gale was finally just as bare as she was, her tears threatened to return as she traced the markings on his chest. But he took her hand, flattening it against where his heart beat, and she looked up at him longingly.

“I love you, Gale,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and she swore he meant it.

His mouth was on hers again with a new found urgency, his pointer and thumb holding her chin as he kissed her hard. His other hand, which was sitting on her hip, had begun to drift down. She shivered from the drag of his fingers over her skin before finally feeling how hard he was against her thigh. With a groan, she pulled her hands from his chest to touch him –to pull some sound from him. 

The sound he made went straight to her core, causing her to clench around nothing, as she slowly stroked him. Gale pulled his mouth from hers to kiss along her jaw, leaving hot, wet kisses along her skin. Her head fell back, allowing him to trail kisses from her jaw down her throat. Then his fingers flicked just barely between her legs, spreading them so he could better access her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes closed as he ghosted his touch over her arousal. Gale kept his hand still, allowing her a moment to get used to his touch there before his fingers circled her clit gently. She keened, back arching off the bed as she chased his touch –her own touch dropping from him as she reacted. He dragged his lips from her throat over her collarbone, then down further until his tongue lapped at one of her pert nipples. Her gasp at the sudden sensation caused her hips to buck, meeting his hand in a gentle grind. The friction of his hand against her most sensitive place was overwhelming for a moment as she pulled at his hair again. Gale’s teeth grazed over her nipple now, nipping at it before he sucked it into his mouth. 

Satisfied with his work on one nipple, he bit down one more time before he switched to the other. His hand drifted down between her legs as he sucked and bit her, and Tav wondered briefly how she would ever do without him again if she lost him. She let out a gasp as he slipped a finger inside her with ease, being pressed into the bed as his teeth grazed over her nipple.

“Oh gods, Gale,” she begged, trying to move against his hand as he eased a second finger inside of her. 

He released her nipple finally, trailing wet, open mouth kisses down her body as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her body writhed beneath him, and she could feel his grin against her skin as he moved further down her body, kissing her stomach and right above her core. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it as he sped up his fingers.

Then, without warning, his teeth grazed her clit and she gasped, unable to keep herself still as she jolted up. He sped up movement with his fingers, curling them up as he sucked and nipped gently at her clit. Her legs started to tremble as her hands ran through his hair, yanking it by the roots. 

“Fuck, please. I’m gonna cum, please, Gale,” she gasped, bucking her hips up. 

But he pulled his fingers away too soon, and she whined, body shaking. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, trailing his lips from her right thigh, over her clit once more until he reached her left. Then he repeated the process back —before finally, his mouth was on her like she was the last meal he’d ever eat. She cried out, stars spilling behind her eyes as she pulled at his hair again. He pushed his tongue deeper, devouring every inch of her that he could. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her even closer to him. 

She started to move her hips to match his movements, pressing against his face to try to get any more possible friction. She was so close, if he just kept going –Tav groaned as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Her hands had become permanently attached to his hair, pulling as she begged him to keep going, to make her cum. Gale’s fingers returned as he lapped at her clit, pumping in and out at a steady, torturous pace. But then –he stopped. And Tav hissed in frustration.

Pulling his fingers from her –prompting a desperate whine as she fell back against the bed –Gale moved to hover over her once more. She grabbed his chin, slick with her, and pulled him into a heated kiss. He groaned into the kiss, licking into her mouth and allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

“I need you,” he admitted, pulling from the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. His hips ground into hers, revealing how bad off he was for her. 

“I’m yours, Gale.” She took his hand and pressed it against her heart, holding it there as she bumped her nose with his. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in. “Only yours.”

Gale found himself between her legs once more, his aching cock in his hand as he stroked himself. His breathing was hard, ragged as he stared down at her naked body. Tav gazed up at him, empty and longing as he stroked himself at the sight of her.

“I need you to touch me,” she begged, reaching for him once more.

Suddenly, Gale was on his back with her straddling his waist. He was surprised for a moment, caught off guard by her new position. However, even with his hazy, lust blown eyes –the way he looked up at her made her stomach flutter and her heart skip. His hands found her hips, pulling her down against him and she grinded down against his cock, humming at the feeling of his hardness against her sensitive folds. He closed his eyes, catching his breath. She leaned in, kissing along his jaw, as her hand finally grasped his cock and lined it up against her. Gale sucked in a breath, and she could tell he was trying to savor the feeling and not rush it.

But she couldn’t take it slow anymore; she sunk down on him without question, burying him to the hilt inside her core with a deep moan and her hands on his chest to keep her balanced. Gale’s hands held her hips, no doubt bruising her, as he held her close to him. Now he truly wouldn’t let her move, savoring the feeling of her tight warmth around him. Finally, Gale opened his eyes, keeping her still for several moments as if he was trying to memorize the sight of her full of him. She tried moving, but he held her tight, cock buried in her while he basked in how tight she was. 

“Gale,” she moaned, reaching between her legs to drag her fingers over her clit. “Please.”

He flipped them over once more, bringing her leg around his waist. She groaned at the change of angle, but didn’t fight him as he started a steady pace. One hand held her leg against him while the other supported his weight over her, allowing him to kiss her hard as he pulled out. She whined at the loss, but then he was slamming back into her without warning and her whine turned into a cry of pleasure. Gale’s mouth captured her sounds, kissing her again as he set a steady, delicious pace. She moaned into the kiss again, hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders as he picked up speed. 

“Oh, gods, Gale,” she sighed as he trailed kisses down her throat again, taking a moment to rest his head in the crook of her neck. “Sweet hells, I love you —I-I love you so much. I’m so close —please —,”

His hips stuttered as she clenched around him, his grip tightening as his pace became more and more frantic. Tav wasn’t prepared for how hard her orgasm hit her, but when it did, she cried out his name and begged the gods for mercy. It was overwhelming, and wonderful, and every second he was still buried inside her was the only divine intervention she’d ever need. And as the warmth of his own climax filled her, Gale buried his face in the crook of her neck. Catching his breath as he came, her hands tangled in his hair once more, coaxing every last ounce of him into her. She was writhing under him, overstimulated from her own climax as well as his now. But he didn’t want to leave her warmth; he wanted to stay buried in her forever.

Eventually, he did pull out, rolling off of her and onto his back. She didn’t let him stray, however, and hitched her leg over his waist again and laid her head on his chest. Gale’s arms snaked their way around her, holding her close to him as his breathing began to even out. 

And then, she started humming softly, her own eyes closing as Gale trailed his fingers up and down her back.

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Here's another long-winded post about me combing through BG3 early access files in search of Aylin and Isobel tidbits - rummaging that already resulted in this post right here. Let me just say I'm pleased to have brought Aylin Silverblood some attention because, again, I think it's a dope name.

Now, obviously, Isobel and Aylin are both Act 2 characters, and early access only covered Act 1. So anything related to them is partial stuff that wasn't scrubbed from the game files for whatever reason, and a lot of placeholders (these are usually indicated by |the text being in vertical lines|). This all means that sometimes (usually!) there are no nice voice lines indexed by UUID and parseable dialogue trees, and you have to trawl through a giant localisation XML of every bit of text in the game instead. An additional complication is all these stories were in flux, but older bits of writing from deprecated iterations didn't get immediately removed from the files, so it's sometimes hard to tell what belongs to which version.

The biggest luck I've had with regards to these two is the 24/11/2021 version of the game - EA Patch #6 Hotfix #19, aka game version v. 4.1.1.1356845, aka the source of Aylin Silverblood (my beloved). Here's a handy list of the patch and hotfix history, if you're like me and interested in this stuff. I'm actually wrangling files from 5 versions of the game right now, ranging from March 2021 to July 2022 - it's been a fun time. This old datamining post on reddit really helped narrow down the timeframe for me to look into.

Why am I doing this? I genuinely find it fun and interesting! There's some neat writing to be found! I crave more Isobel at all times! And I'm always into WIP and "how the sausage is made" type stuff. Also, tons of cool inspo for fics and headcanons.

Note, because I know that's a popular EA tidbit: this is all from after the Halsin killing Isobel variant was scrapped. This is, in fact, the version where she gets killed and soul trapped by Balthazar, and Aylin gets framed for it.

I'm going to start this off with my favourite part, and that is snippets of an early version of the Aylin/Isobel reunion from 2021. I've done my best to put them in order, but be aware a lot of this is still me speculating.

|[CINE: Nightsong teleports the party to the plaza in front of Last Light. As she looks around trying to familiarize herself, Isobel notices your arrival from the balcony. Her reaction is pure shock, followed by an immediate rush down the stairs.]|

|[CINE: Isobel dashes out of the front of the inn, wide-eyed and out of breath. Nightsong stares at her, stunned.]|

Aylin: |(distant, shocked) Isobel.|

Isobel: |Aylin...|

|[CINE: Nightsong takes an instinctive step towards her but stumbles, collapsing to her knees, eyes blown with pain and disbelief. Isobel closes the distance between them in hasty steps, trying to help Nightsong up, but Nightsong tightly grips at her arms - as if the contact makes everything real.]|

|[CINE: Isobel's eyes fill with tears as she drops down to the ground, throwing her arms around Nightsong's shoulders in a tight embrace. Shaking, almost fearful, Nightsong returns the embrace - the first kind touch she's had in a hundred years.]|

|[CINE: Nightsong draws back from the hug, looking Isobel in the eyes. Isobel helps Nightsong to her feet. As the two of them stand, they keep their hands linked.]|

Aylin: |A hundred years. Isobel, light of my heart, where were you? (choking up) I found your body, I....|

Isobel: |I was dead, Aylin. For so long. It was Balthazar - he trapped my soul, he-|

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowRelationship] You were lovers? Did Ketheric know?|

Aylin: |(jaw tightens) We were lovers. Her father was against it. He saw nothing but future misery. I'm immortal. I would never age, but she would.|

Isobel: |He didn't understand. It doesn't matter when... (fearful, as if worried Aylin's feelings might have changed) ... I still love you so much.|

Aylin: |(her first genuine smile) And I, you. No trial or pain could ever change that. (relaxes a touch) It is why I couldn't leave your body, even when they came. Balthazar and that Sharran witch told your father that I was to blame.|

|And he believed them over you?|

Aylin: |(frowns) He believed what he wanted to believe. Ketheric saw his daughter dead, and he saw someone he wanted to hurt. Shar took that cruel thread, that moment of mortal pain, and used it to corrupt him to the core.|

Aylin: |I was put on trial, and I had no defence. The moment it was over, I was taken down to the temple and... well, you saw what they had done.|

|Isobel presses against Nightsong's side, face tight with worry, running her fingers in slow strokes up and down Nightsong's arm.|

|[CINE: Nightsong tilts her head back towards the player.]|

Aylin: |These heroes saved me. Without them, I'd still be trapped in Balthazar's soul cage, with Ketheric gripping my heart like a leech.|

|[CINE: Isobel's face falls at the mention of her father's name.]|

Isobel: |A *soul cage*? Gods.|

Isobel: |I didn't know. Gods, he didn't say a word to me. I ran away because it was Balthazar that brought me back. As I ran, I heard my father shouting... but I'd seen enough. There was no saving him.|

Aylin: |You are not your father, Isobel. (sad, wry smile) You were the only thing that kept me alive in the dark. When hope began to fade, I simply thought of you.|

Isobel: |[To player] Thank you. (smiles wide) I... I can't possibly thank you enough, for bringing Aylin back to me.|

|Nightsong smiles too, but she's lost looking at Isobel, completely tuning out everyone else around them. Isobel leans in, resting her brow against Nightsong's and closing her eyes, Nightsong's hand clutched to her chest.|

Then, there is an option to press Isobel for details:

|You said the necromancer trapped your soul. Why?| |Was Balthazar the one who killed you, Isobel?|

Isobel: |(hesitant, visibly guilty) I think Aylin would know better than I do. The last thing I remember is a blade in the dark. Too fast to feel pain. Then silence.|

Asking Isobel to go with you to Moonrise was possible at various points, leading to different responses:

Will you come with me to Moonrise? I could use your help. If we're going to stop Ketheric, you have to come with me.

Until there is a way to keep Last Light safe, I cannot leave. All I can do is pray. |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. I'll do everything I can to help you from here, but I won't go with you.| |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. If someone else could take my place, I would go with you. I swear it.|

|Nightsong is here, she will protect Last Light - let's go to Moonrise, like you promised.| |I want to spend the night with Aylin. Meet me at Moonrise tomorrow.| |Nightsong will protect the people while together we can stop Ketheric.|

Isobel: I... we need to get close to him, don't we? And Aylin can protect Last Light in my absence. Aylin: Isobel, I have just gotten you back. To put yourself in his hands again-

Looks like we would've had a flip of the current Act 2 boss fight, and Isobel would be the ally for the confrontation with Ketheric, not Aylin. Also, that one line right there that is our first indication of Succor™, gotta love it. Sadly, post-reunion I only have:

|TBD: Post Nightsong Reunion.| |How are you and Aylin doing?|

To borrow release version Isobel's stock line: KEEPING VERY WELL, I HOPE? In any case, I'm putting the rest under a cut, featuring options for calling Isobel out on her parentage, Aylin being from Mt. Celestia, and Balthazar being gross - among many other things.

At one point quite early on, Isobel's protection from the shadow curse wasn't a spell, but an ointment:

|Ointment of Selûne| |Ointment Container PLACEHOLDER| |Isobel filled this with precious doses of her sacred Ointment of Selûne.| |First get the ointment from Isobel.| Have you received Isobel's ointment yet? What protection can her ointment offer, exactly? You should see Isobel. If Marcus does crop up, I'd sooner you had her ointment to protect you. Can use that cleric's ointment to get you on your way. But I have to move out - now. Can I get some of your ointment? No more theories! It's time for action. Our secret weapon needs to travel to Moonrise Towers, which means they'll need your ointment. You have the ointment. You have the Gate Stone. Moonrise Towers awaits. Are you sure the ointment will last long enough?

What is now Isobel's Ominous Cough was a gradual weakening that was remarked upon and seemed to be there to create more of a sense of urgency:

I won't claim to know Isobel's craft, but Selûne's light is bright in her. Isobel's tough - though she was tougher at the start. I've rarely seen a cleric so in tune with her goddess, but the curse is taking its toll. The light used to be stronger, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take? You look paler than death, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take?

We have some nice concise infodumps on Ketheric:

After Ketheric turned to darkness, the Enclave joined with the Harpers to unseat him and his Sharran cohorts. We marched together, fought together, bled together... and in the end we prevailed.

Only it wasn't the end. Nothing seemed to kill Ketheric himself, so the Harpers decided to seal him in his own tomb, alive. They thought that would be enough. But they hadn't counted on Ketheric unleashing the shadow curse. We watched it drain all light and life away from this place, saw it twist people into abominations. The Harpers lost hope.

Ketheric wove the curse on this land. The moment he was sealed in that tomb, Shar's poison devoured everything in its path.

Fallen paladin. Champion of Shar. He was building an army bent on unholy conquest, but we stopped him. Killed him. Buried him.

It was not enough. General Thorm lives again. He's built a new army, and this time he marches under the banner of the Absolute.

November 2021 is the earliest mention of Aylin I found, mostly marked as not finalised and placeholder dialogue (and that reunion up there). The Nightsong as present in that patch is still very different from what we ended up getting - nobody was killing her, in fact people were coming to get her "kiss", and there was a whole thing where it seems like Shar would directly take control of her and you could help her overcome the curse, or abandon her to it - or kill her. 

Embrace the Nightsong and be sworn to Eternal Shadow.

Anyway, here are her lines (all of these exist as voice files, which is rare for stuff I put in this post - but they're done by a voice actress who doesn't sound like Helen Keeley, our final Aylin VA, so I don't know what to make of it all tbh):

Shar is the Nightsinger, and I am her Nightsong. I am her instrument, transforming the faithful into shadows. I've been here for centuries. Do you know how many priests of Shar came here, full of faith, seeking my kiss? I've been here for centuries. Thousands of Sharrans came here seeking my kiss. I drink their sorrow, their loss, their grief. Then I vomit it back into the world. All of them are shadows now. That is Shar's only reward. But Ketheric returned for my kiss, over and over. You're the first to survive my kiss intact. You're the only one who can help me. Please, you have to help. No one's ever resisted the kiss before. No one has ever resisted my kiss. But you are not merely *one*, are you? That thing in your head must be incredibly powerful to resist a goddess. Perhaps it's also divine in nature. Because a mind can't survive two masters. It breaks us. Shar's attention must be elsewhere. Speak quickly. She's watching now. She's waiting to steal my voice. But it won't last. Please - listen! I was captured by Ketheric Thorm, Shar's chosen. He turned me into this creature. I'm a slave of Shar. She owns me, just like that thing in your head owns you. I want to sing my own song. Not Shar's. Not *Ketheric's*. Find Ketheric. Kill him so I can be free! Slay Ketheric. His wretched existence binds me to this temple. Oh. That made her angry. The Lady returns! She has me again! *Again!* Stop! You've driven her away!

I am not your *spectacle*. Turn away before I strike you blind. Tell them to come and receive my kiss.

Some possible relevant tags, interactions, and outcomes include:

|The soul cage has greatly weakened Nightsong| |Debug: click to save Nightsong (sets the flag to talk to Isobel)| |We sided with Ketheric and doomed Nightsong.| |Companion comment!||But if his power is linked to this Nightsong, there must be a way to unlink it.| |You have taken control of Ketheric's Soul Cage| |You are bound to Ketheric's soul cage, taking his regenerative powers for yourself| |Bound to Soul Cage| |Soul Cage Key| |Soul Cage Research| |The book details the necromancer's research on the soul cage| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost, as she takes her Father with her to the afterlife.| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost terrified and in agony. Both Isobel and Ketheric will disappear.|

At one point Isobel delivers her own, Ketheric's, and Aylin's backstory as "a story", but sadly I can find very little of it, just disjointed fragments:

You seem to know a lot about Ketheric. He was a devout Selûnite who converted to Shar. They say it was Ketheric's purity that drew an angel down from Celestia. You're Isobel Thorm. The daughter who died in that story.

And there seem to be many options to question Isobel about her hiding the truth about her father:

Why are you lying to me, Isobel? Everyone thinks you're dead, Isobel. Tell me the truth, Isobel. Everything. Still, Isobel might have saved us some time had she been honest from the beginning. |Why didn't you tell me what happened from the start, Isobel?|

Ketheric. Don't you mean your father? Ketheric is your father. I know the truth. Ketheric told me at Moonrise. He wants me to bring you home. I need your father to trust me. He wants you back. You sent me after your father - Ketheric. I think we should discuss Ketheric - your father - first. For all you've said about Ketheric, you left out the part where he's your father.

To which I've found some responses:

And would you have trusted her? Ketheric's daughter? Why didn't I tell you that I was murdered, that my soul was locked away for a hundred years? What would I have told her? That my father murdered her fellow Harpers, but that I can surely be trusted?

[Attempt to read Isobel's thoughts.] *You see Ketheric standing before Isobel, although the memory is hazy. His words are unclear, but his tone is not - he is pleading with her.*

Brought back by the same man that killed me. Balthazar. Standing next to my father with a smile on his face.

But I'm not sure it would have mattered. To stand with that man, my father has surrendered to deepest evil.

I would love to know what the whole pleading thing is about, and what Isobel "didn't know" that she claims didn't matter anyway.

My father. After a century, he somehow brought me back. But I saw the monster he had become. I couldn't bear it... I ran. I ran until I found Last Light. It was like a second home to me, once. I've been studying the curse ever since, searching for answers. Trying to restore the damage my father has wrought upon this land. It's possible I may have to sacrifice myself. But this is my father's crime.

And then, there is this nugget I cannot place but that I like: 

|Your father's due will come.|

There is also an option to tell her Nightsong is Aylin (who was, at this point, a full celestial - no mention of being connected to Selûne, though, and in fact, if she was indeed from Mount Celestia as mentioned in the "story", she would not have been):

Isobel: My father's curse still blackens this earth. Have you found anything? Player: A celestial, chained to Ketheric's soul. Player: They called her Nightsong, but she told me her name was Aylin. Isobel: Aylin. She... she's alive. I knew she had to be, I… Player: Ketheric's necromancer took her to Moonrise. Isobel: His necromancer? Gods, you have to free her. Isobel: You have to go to Moonrise and free Aylin. When Ketheric is weak, this can all be over. Isobel: The truth is that I would give anything to see her again, and anything to stop my father. Free her, and you do both. Isobel: At least, the shell of my father. There's nothing left of the man that championed Selûne. Isobel: Find her. Free her. If Ketheric isn't stopped, all of us are doomed.

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowName] Aylin? Care to explain?| Isobel: The angel in my story about Ketheric. That was Aylin.

Speaking of Balthazar. Some lines from him:

[Introductory note: please imagine everything Balthazar says spoken with a wheezy voice, as if he's permanently out of breath.]

[I need to retrieve the Nightsong, but the temple is haunted and my minions cannot make it past the trial grounds. I cannot go there until the ghosts have been dealt with. Now that you are here on behalf of Ketheric, you will do all this for me.]

I, Fodder, am here on behalf of General Ketheric Thorm. Down in the depths of this temple writhes his desire. I am to bring it to him.

I created the Nightsong for General Ketheric, many moons... HEAR THAT SHAR? Many moons ago.

*As you hold the necromancer's mocking gaze, you can tell how it starts to dawn on him you are not the mere minion he thought you were.*

Along the way I found some more recent Patch 8 (2022-ish) gross Balthazar lines, some bits of which have actually survived to release:

She was a unique specimen even before I began my work. Aasimar. A god's blood united with mortal flesh.

Such fine clay she was. We grew quite close as I… remoulded her. Now she is General Thorm's shield. Her strength is his to drink upon. His pains are hers to bear.

If I never exceed her, I will still die happy. If I ever do something as gauche as truly dying, that is.

Utterly revolting! Makes my skin crawl! Man deserves a yeeting into the Shadowfell a hundred times over! But in order to not end on a gross note, I leave you with:

Ketheric Thorm. Murderer. Oathbreaker.

Aylin Silverblood. My true name. Nightsong was only ever a curse.

[orphic-musings]

The pain we wrought from words unspoken…

Characters: Karlach x gn! reader, Wyll x gn! reader, Halsin x gn! reader, Aylin x Isobel, Bex x Danis

Genre: Angst, fluff (but not for you)

Warnings: hurt no comfort, misunderstandings, spoilers for the end of act 2, implied reference to death (character)

Summary: After an arduous battle everyone is celebrating and taking a much needed reprieve. Except you, whose heart has a hole that is home to loneliness and grief. Is there no one to comfort you?

Notes: Omg i am back and with a BALDUR’S GATE FIC!?!!??! yes i have been taken by this game too and it has me in a chokehold and forced me to write for it. im sorry it had to be angst it makes me so sad maybe i will write comfort pt. 2 if people want it! pls enjoy :-) (sobbing) lemme know if i missed any warnings also not proofread aha

Karlach:

Aylin had her arm around Isobel the whole night. You recall earlier how she had lifted Isobel into the air and spun her around, nothing but mirth and pure love in her eyes. The action had brought a genuine smile to your face. To see something so joyful and pure after so much torment and toil was a gift, an uplifting you didn’t know you needed. But it came with a bittersweet pang. Everyone was busy chatting away at camp, spirits were high as everyone had a much needed moment of reprise after the defeat of Ketheric. Though you still wore a smile, your heart faltered.

“Holding up, Soldier?” A warm and familiar voice appeared behind you, and you turned to be met with an equally warm smile. You nodded, returning the smile, a genuine one.

“I’m so glad to see everyone reunited and safe, it seemed like such an impossible reality before, but now….” You turned back to the Selûnite couple in a loving embrace as your sentence trailed off. Karlach’s eyes followed, but then she looked at you. Your eyes were faraway, and your smile seemed almost sad.

“Alright there?” She asked, concern in her voice. Ever conscious of the feelings of others, she could pick up on any hint of bitterness or longing in others. She knew it all too well.

“It’s just, seeing all this love… I should be so happy, I am! But it still hurts. It must be nice to mean that much to someone.” You didn’t face her as you spoke. Despite your calm voice and your content, peaceful face, she sensed a deep hurt behind your words. Her mouth opened, and her hand instinctively reached out to grab your shoulder, but she stopped.

You mean so much to me, I cherish every moment we spend together. I could forget myself in your smile, forget the world in your eyes. Just one look at your face can quell all my rage. I would spend every hour I could with you, I would not hesitate to defend you and protect you. I want to be with you. Is what she wants to say. But instead she turned away with a solemn silence of her own.

You didn’t react to her silence, times are hard, and love seemed like a luxury. You stood like a statue as she slipped away, mourning internally her prescence, as she ripped herself from your side unwillingly.

Fighting Zariel’s war was easier than fighting her feelings in that moment. But any moment could be her very last. For someone who would rather live and die in the present, fully and without regrets, she feels a hypocrite. But imagining the hope of being with you, the joy you might have from knowing how much she needs you and cherishes you, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking that all away from you. It’s a lesser evil to keep it from you, to keep it from herself, in the first place, than to have fate cruelly crush it all. At least that’s what she told herself as she faced the wall of her tent, away from your own dejected form, with hot tears in her eyes.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Wyll:

It seemed a miracle that you managed to save all the tieflings, and the gnomes on top of that. And even more so to defeat Ketheric Thorm, and at last promise safety and rest to all in the shadowlands. But any praise or recognition went over your head as you reeled in the aftermath. It felt surreal, and almost like it happened too quick, and you were still having trouble processing it. Even as you walked around Last Light Inn to rejuvinate your mind.

“You’re alright! My gods you’re alright!” You heard a voice call, and as you rounded the corner you saw two Tieflings in a tight embrace. You recognized Danis as one of the prisoners you had rescued, and pride swelled in you momentarily. As you watched the reunion in tender delight, you failed to notice a presence join you.

“A joyous sight. It makes me feel better about all the toil thus far.” Wyll’s voice spoke beside you, smooth and clear. It made you smile, even as you felt the sweet atmosphere waver, threatening to leave behind a cold emptiness.

“A shame it seems so scarce these days.” You said, watching the couple wander off into the warm inn. His face fell as he noticed the melancholy in your gaze.

“Indeed. I only hope those who have love, and hope, hold onto it dearly.” You merely stared off into the distance, unmoving and unresponding. It wrenched his heart, but he remained with you. It somehow felt like the least, and the most, that he could do. He wished you would turn to him, so he coukd see the light reflected in your eyes. But you couldn’t, for the price of love and hope was one too high for you to pay, in your mind. And despite your proximity, there was a perceptible distance between you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Halsin:

The camp was brimming with relief, chatter sounding from every corner as parties discuss the aftermatch of the fight at Moonrise towers. Many people had joined you after the fight, since it had really only begun, and your companions had proven themselves capable of leading the cause. But you were mostly grateful for the presence of those who had helped you make it that far, namely the archdruid of Emerald Grove. Halsin was relieved, and content as well. He had fulfilled his century long quest, and the lands were now safe. And so were you.

“What now? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” You asked, unsure if he would stay now that his task is finished.

“I have. But perhaps there is more that I want.” He replied, a smile on his face. You felt the warmth of his words, and you almost let it invade your senses, but you shook it off. Curiosity threatened to get the better of you, even if you werenmt sure you wanted to know the answer. But before you could stop it the words had left your mouth.

“What is it that you want?” He paused to glance at you, the smile never having left his face.

“Not what,” he began, his gaze shifting past you, “but who.” He let out a sigh after that, like it was good to get it off his chest. But your heart fell. You had known you shouldn’t have asked, but you needed to. Just in case of that small possibility.

“Ah.” Is all you managed in reply. After a beat of silence you turned and left abruptly, the intense beat of your heart felt like it was punching your ribs. Halsin’s smile faded as he watched you walk away. Had he said something wrong? No, he realized, he had merely misread the situation. You didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have. He felt silly in that moment, and laughed it off as he had done with the other rejections in his life (though they were few). But he could not shrug off the pain that wrenched his heart.

The next day the camp felt uncertain again. Comforting, yes, but uncertain. The party would be on the road again, and many things could change until they next made camp again. But the heaviest thing hanging in the air was your silence, your distance. It was to be expected, he reasoned, after the awkward encounter, but he hoped it didn’t mean you couldn’t still be friends. The very thought caused his throat to tighten.

But you couldn’t even bear to look at him. Of course such an experienced, handsome and capable man such as him wouldn’t have a soft spot for you. Thinking about it now made you ill. You couldn’t be near him, because all you thought of in his presence was how lucky someone else was to have him. And as you journeyed down the road to Baldur’s Gate, your distance grew. So much that it caused an uncomfortable wedge in the group, a palpable bitterness that soured the air.

Every night sorrow would muster in the two tents on far sides of the camp. Frustration, tears and regret proliferated there in those moments, planting seeds of woe to be reaped when the dawn broke. And the cure for sickness was only right where they dare not look.

[palestaticexchange]

IT TAKES A VILLAGE

"What's that?"

Your brother holds something small and shiny. His eyes glint like the thing in his hand does when he looks at you. "Go inside!" He says. The other one giggles.

"Show me! You have something!" You stumble to where they're crouched in the sand.

"Go away, Lily!" He's pouting now.

"This is our thing," the other one says. "We found it out there!" A wild finger swings towards the mound out in the sea.

The waves push back and forth over the sand. It's like a game: they want to pull you close then shove you away again. You shiver every time you look over them. "You can't go there..."

"W- Why did you tell her?"

You stamp a foot to catch the boys' attention. "You can't go out there! It's dangerous! Mom said!"

"Go away, Lily!" Your brother who holds the shiny thing stamps back. "This is why you can't play with us! You ruin everything!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"N- No I don't!" Your lip wobbles, nose already growing thick with snot.

You other brother giggles as he replies in perfect chorus with his twin; "Yes! You! *DO*!"

It's too much. You squeal once then run crying back home. Your wails bob in pitch each time your little feet pound against the sand.

"Oh?" You can't see through your tears but hear the old lady call out to you as you pass her. "What's wrong, dear? Come talk to Isobel!"

You don't stop, just pound up the wooden slats and into your home. Your little paws grip the edge of the sofa and hoist you up. Then you curl up in the corner and wipe your snotty face against the woollen throw. Crying, wailing, wiping. You blow thick sneezes against the ratty blanket that smells of the sea and wood smoke. 

Outside you hear the rumbling of adult voices, a moment later the door creaks open once again. "-Don't know, she just ran right past me."

"Right," Mom's voice. "What's all this crying for, girl?"

You raise your wobbly face from the blanket. Through your tears you spot the blue and yellow form of your mother and reach out for her. The sofa sinks next to you, sending your little body into her as she scoops you onto her lap.

"Hmm? Are we being silly?" 

You wail against her chest as she cuddles you, one hand stroking through your hair. "T- they, w- why?" Your little fists twist into the front of her coat, the nylon making sweet swishes against your short nails. "W- why w- won't they l- let me p- p- pla- pluh- *PLAY* w- w- with t- theee~!" It's too much again. You grind your snotty face against your mother as she coos softly.

"Ah. This is about the twins again." 

You nod, sniffing. 

"Hmm," The hand on your back starts petting it affectionately. "Boys are like this I'm afraid, little one. By the time they'll *want* to play with you the game won't be in your favour." 

You sniffle. You're not sure what mom means, but it doesn't sound fair. "But I want to play! I want to g- go on ah- ahd- ahd-ven-tures too!"

As you squeak out your new favourite *big* word your mom pauses in her stroking. She never shouts, or leaves you on your own for more than half a day, but she can get quiet. Then she runs her hand down your back again- slower this time. "Is that what you want? Or do you just want to be included?"

You unburrow your face from her chest and look up at her. She stops petting your hair and lifts the blanket, dabbing at your eyes then closing it around your nose. You blow into it.

"My special girl." As she pulls the wool away from your face you can see she's smiling down at you. "Do you want something all of your own?"

You gawk up at your mother before nodding quick. 

You feel a puff of air hit your face as she laughs through her nose. Then she's lifting you off her lap and placing you on the sofa. "Let the boys keep their silly games." She stands and walks to the high shelves above the fireplace, standing tall and lifting a paper box down. "Mom's going to introduce you to a very special old friend of hers." You see a flash of something white, then she's holding it behind her back with one hand and replacing the box with her other. She walks back to the sofa and drops to a crouch in front of you. "He's been *my* friend since I was your age... But I think you need him more than I do now, pet." 

You gasp as she pulls the doll from behind her back. "Woah~!" You forget your brothers and their adventures and their games. In front of you is the scrappy off-white body of a toy, an animal you recognise from one of your worn picture books. "A baa-lamb!" 

Your mother's face scrunches as she smiles. "Well done little one." She turns the old thing over, she seems suddenly... Not sure. "I called him 'Lamby' but I suppose you could call him something else if you liked..." The smile returns as if nothing had happened, then she's holding him out to you. 

You draw in breath and take the toy, his black button eyes already filled with love for you. "Lamby..." You whisper, stroking along his wool.

As you stroke your new friend you feel your mother's hand return to your hair, stroking you in time. "I just know you'll take *good* care of each other. Like he took good care of me." 

You will take good care of me, won't you Little Lily? He says. I've had a long life, but I will be your friend for as long as you'll be mine. 

You release a peel of giggles and kick your little legs. You pull the toy tight against your chest, liking the soft scratch of his wool against your still-damp cheek. Like the rest of the house he smells of salt, smoke, and seaweed. A moment later, you hear the creek of the door.

"Here comes trouble," your mother sighs. 

From just outside you hear the old lady urging the boys up the steps. Then one of the twins comes into view with eyes like saucers. 

Elder by 36 minutes. He plucked the metal shell from the sand. You look down at Lamby, not understanding what he means, then up again as your brother starts to talk.

"M'sorry Lily..." He mutters, shuffling awkwardly. 

"Now your turn," Isobel urges from the doorway. Her hand rests on your other twin's shoulder as he turns shyly against her side. 

"M'sorry..." He says quietly.

Mom gives the old lady a quick smile, then bends down to level with your brothers. "I have told you before to be kind to your sister-"

"Whas that!" The older one hops, pointing at Lamby." 

You're a big girl. The stitching of Lamby's mouth is faded but you can tell it used to be pink. Let it go. You need them and they need you. You *all* need each other.

You take a deep breath and puff out your chest, holding Lamby in your lap. "His name is Lamby and he is my friend. You can k- keep your games and metal shells." You lift your chin like a big girl would.

Your older twin cocks his head, the one in the doorway pulls his fingers from his mouth to smile. 

"There's my good girl," your mom says with a smile. 

[blackjackkent]

So I lied - Rakha has reached the meltdown point after everything that happened yesterday. :P Which means, as usual, drabble time.

-----

It’s too much.

It’s all too much.

Rakha stares at her reflection in one of the few intact windows of the nearby rotted-out building. She takes in the curse the pixie laid on her - the emulation of facepaint burned into her skin. Rakha has never seen a clown, but she understands instinctively that this is a mockery, an insult. 

And it is too much. It has all piled up for weeks now - Ethel’s betrayal, and the noblestalk, and the broken wrong magic of the shadowlands, and now Isobel and Sceleritas and a sudden escalation of every murderous thought she’s ever had. And with this final taunting indignity, Rakha - suddenly, dramatically, and without any preamble whatsoever - snaps.

“RrrrrrrraaaaaaAAAAARRRGGGHHH!” It starts as a growl but she can’t stop it; it rises up her throat and into her mouth as a furious scream. Her fist smashes through the window, shattering it apart. Pain stings through her knuckles and she smells blood. Her breath quickens until she is hyperventilating. Her vision goes white.

Fire spews out of her hands. The building, dead and desiccated as it is, erupts in flames at once, catching like kindling as if expressly prepared for the purpose. Her magic rebounds in on itself and then explodes outwards in a sudden noxious cloud of poison gas that mingles with the conflagration. Rakha stands amid the chaos, a column of elemental energy, her body glowing by turns with radiant light and crackling lightning and a sheen of ice that erupts into steam the moment it appears.

For a terrifying few minutes, she cannot think, cannot see, cannot breathe. She is aware only of the rage and desperation and abject, brutal despair, and the bloodlust laugh of the beast roaring in her brain.

-----

“Rakha?” Wyll calls cautiously. He steps carefully into the ruins of the building - now far more ruined than before as the fire has started to burn itself out.

None of them quite know what happened; he and Lae’zel and Shadowheart simply watched as Rakha seemed to… well… explode. For a moment he is very, very afraid she just destroyed herself. But after a while, they become aware of a strange choking sound coming from a dark corner of the ruins. 

Rakha is sobbing.

She’s not crying - there are no tears. But she is curled into a ball on the floor, shaking with ragged dry sobs that wrack her whole body. Her fingertips are pressed into her hair as if she wishes to rip out her skull. 

“Rakha…” Wyll drops to his knees at her side, reaches out cautiously to rest a hand on her shoulder. She jerks away from the touch, pulling herself against the nearby wall like a kicked dog. “Rakha… breathe. It’s all right--”

“It is NOT!” she snarls. It is barely even her voice; she sounds more animal than woman. “You don’t know-- you don’t-- understand--”

“Tell me.” His voice is soft, a counterpoint to the terrible chaos in her mind. “Tell me what’s wrong…”

“It hurts…” She chokes the words out. Her head lifts to meet his eyes and he’s startled to see that her face is filled with panic. At her best moments she is placid and serious, at her worst filled with rage - but he has never seen her look as terrified as she does in this moment. The pixie’s clownpaint curse in the shadowy half-light only accentuates the effect, giving her the look of some kind of storybook monster. “Wyll, it hurts… I can’t-- make it stop--”

Inside her mind, she is hanging on by her fingernails against the maelstrom. The beast is so close to taking control. She is slipping. 

“I would-- rip out your throat--” she growls. “Don’t touch me--”

“No…” He is reminded, abruptly and viscerally, of the moment they found Scratch on the road, terrified and lost and in need of gentleness. “You won’t. I promise-- I promise you won’t.” He knows her well enough by now that he can guess at some of the meaning behind the cryptic words - and thus behind the terror in her eyes. “I won’t let you hurt me, Rakha. It’s all right. It’s all right…” 

Every muscle in her body is strained tight, but he thinks he sees her relax almost imperceptibly at this. The sobbing breaths stutter a little, losing their implacable rhythm. Her eyes remain locked on him, desperate, pleading. “It’s stronger here,” she finally manages to gasp out, more quietly.

She wants to tell him everything. About Sceleritas, about his gifts and hints and taunting deference. About the image of Isobel’s head severed from her body and sitting in a pool of blood. About the way the beast claws within her brain and takes her apart from the inside. She can’t find the words. She is not Gale, she has no eloquence, only halting sentences half-formed and blunt and broken.

He considers this. “The… ‘beast’?”

She nods unsteadily, curling further into herself. “It’s too much… too much-- too hard to hold on--” The sobs quicken again, so hard and fierce that she is struggling to breathe. “I could have smashed her. Crushed her against the rock. No curse then. No paint. But I let her live…”

“Yes,” he agrees. “You did right…”

“And she mocked me…” She groans and her whole body shudders deeply. “Too much to bear…”

A long, long silence, broken only by her ragged gasps. For a moment, he is very afraid of her - afraid of the parts of her that he doesn’t understand. 

Please kill me, she thinks. Please run far away from me. Please don’t let me go.

“I’m so tired…” she whispers. “So tired of fighting…”

He reaches out very carefully, ready to pull back if she needs him to; when she doesn’t draw away again, he rests his hand on her back. He can feel her heart thundering under her ribs. “Breathe,” he finally says softly. “We’ll get through this.” He doesn’t know how. He just knows that they have to. “We’ll help you. I’m here…”

She struggles to swallow the sobs, to draw a proper breath. “I don’t want to…” she mumbles disjointedly. “Don’t want to kill her.”

“Then you won’t,” Wyll says softly. “I won’t let you. I promise.” He doesn’t know who she’s speaking of or why - but the reassurance takes hold, nevertheless. She slumps into the floor, trembling uncontrollably; the desperate animal panic begins to fade in favor of blank exhaustion. Cautiously he shifts to rub his fingertips slowly up her back to her shoulder, feeling the tight muscle there slowly loosening. “Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe…”

[pastelwitchling]

Rearview Mirror malex au chapter 3 teaser.

***

              Michael thought he’d been used to feeling lost. When Alex had first left after high school; and then again when he’d come back after a decade away, but didn’t want to have anything to do with Michael; then when he’d disappeared for good, unwilling to ever set foot in Roswell again. Michael thought he’d known what it felt like to exist like he was existing now, sitting on Max’s couch and staring through the stone floor as Max gave Isobel and Kyle the facts of the case, unable to really hear them; to not really be in his own body, his mind on autopilot.

              It was nothing compared to this. Because this time, Michael had held Alex tight, and Alex had left anyway. This time, Michael had tried, and Alex had chosen someone else. He got a sudden sick feeling that he couldn’t fight off before it was swarming every inch of his mind, haunting him with questions; was this how Alex had felt when Michael had turned away from him, over and over? Was it just this much hurt every time?

              He put a hand to his chest, exhaling shakily, the world crashing back down around him in a flood of noise and gasps and whispers. Had he been doing this to Alex for years?

              “You’re not my problem anymore.”

              “So Liz is wrong!” Isobel demanded.

              “Is,” Kyle tried, “it’s what the tests say.”

              “Then the tests are wrong!” she snapped. “O-Or, I don’t know, the blood was wrong. Or the samples got mixed up!”

              “Liz wouldn’t make a mistake like that,” Max heaved. “Look, she doublechecked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked before she said anything to me. She didn’t even want to tell me, I got there and she tried hiding the papers!”

              “Because she knows they’re wrong,” Isobel insisted. “She knows that you can’t be a clone, and Michael can’t be Jones’s son!”

              “But I am,” Michael said despite himself. His was voice low, but it cut through the room like an axe. Isobel flinched. Michael met her eyes with all of Alex’s steadiness, wondering if it was the lingering scent of Alex’s scent around him or the still-there feel of his skin against his own that was making it easier for him to say the words.

              Something about the way Alex had held him, and after so long, like he still wanted him after knowing who he was. Michael looked to Max, watching him as though he could read his thoughts, and knew that this was why Max had called Alex before he’d given Michael the news. He’d known that if Michael needed anyone to get him through the shock, to help him see that he was still Michael, it could only have been Alex.

              Standing, his shoulders straight, he repeated if only to himself, “I am.” He shook his head. “Everything we’ve found out about our moms so far, it all makes sense if . . .”

              Max raised a brow, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If I’m a clone?”

              “You’re you,” Michael defended at once, echoing Alex. “No matter what some damn tests say.”

              “Yeah!” Isobel insisted, red-faced with anger, eyes brimming with tears.

              “Baby?” Kyle asked softly, putting a hand between her shoulder blades.

              Isobel wiped her tears away furiously and made a sound between a scream and a groan. “Doesn’t Ortecho ever have good news?!”

              “Hey,” Liz huffed, glaring from the doorway at Isobel, a stack of files in her arms, “I’m just the messenger, okay? You want someone who’ll lie?”

              “No one blame’s you, Liz,” Max sighed, kissing Liz’s cheek before picking at the corner of one of the files. “What’s all this?”

              “Alex asked me to bring these by,” she said. “It’s the tests, he wants a look at them himself.” Michael reached for them, but without a moment’s pause, Liz unloaded the stack into Kyle’s arms.

              Michael frowned. “Why are you—”

              “Sorry, cowboy,” Liz said. “Alex said he has to pull an all-nighter, so only Kyle can give him the files.”

              Kyle didn’t look the least bit surprised, and it hit Michael then; only Kyle had access to Deep Sky, so only Kyle would be able allowed through the front door. Behind which, Michael was sure, Alex and Forrest were planning to cozy up together for the rest of the night. No one to bother them.

              Like hell . . .

              He caught up to Kyle on his way to his car. “I’m coming with you.”

              “What—no, Michael, I can’t just—”

              “Yes, you can,” Michael demanded. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He’d been so close to getting Alex to listen to him, to fixing what had happened. Alex had touched him and it was a drug he’d been addicted to since they were seventeen. He needed him back, he needed Alex touching him again. And now.

              He thought Kyle would argue with him, but he just shook his head, resigned. “Alex isn’t going to like this.”

              Yes, Michael thought, remembering the way Alex had held him, the look in his eyes, the hope that he didn’t want but rose in him anyway, and he knew he wasn’t the only one yearning. He will.

[ilanorgratvol]

Rough tempest they will raise - Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

The illusion, as beautiful as it was, was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy aimed at distracting them, if only temporarily, from the impending inevitability. Now, standing in Gale's room, the sorceress couldn't help but wonder—would it have been better to lose herself in this sweet oblivion? To throw it all away and return to Waterdeep, only to face the looming evil again after some time? No doubt, the Absolute, whatever it was, would continue to consume cities if no one stood against it.

"I hate that I have to stay here again."

Talia, intensely focusing, struggled with the multitude of clasps and ties on Gale's leather bracers, helping him dress for the upcoming battle with Ketheric Thorm.

"I know. And I'm grateful that you're not contesting this decision," - he observed her hands, tilting his head slightly, - "Besides, I thought you'd be glad to stay close to someone who, as I understand it, has become dear to you."

Talia raised an eyebrow in misunderstanding, casting a fleeting glance at the wizard's face.

"Rolan..." - it seemed to her that Gale sighed in annoyance, - "I saw you two one of the nights when we arrived here. Out on the street," - he gestured vaguely toward the window.

Talia felt her cheeks flush. She simply smiled slightly, not taking her eyes off her task: 

"I knew you were watching."

"Oh, really?" - Gale smirked bitterly, - "Not exactly the spectacle I hoped to see before sleep, to be honest..."

"Gale..." - Talia paused for a moment and looked into his eyes mischievously, - "I KNEW you were watching."

She could literally see the gears turning in his mind through his eyes. He furrowed his brows momentarily in confusion before a spark of playfulness appeared in his eyes, and he cracked a slight smile: 

"You're a little minx..."

"Lovebirds, time to move out," - Astarion opened the door fully armed, with a bow slung over his shoulder. He paused for a second, surprised to see the sorceress still holding Gale's hand, then smirked slyly, - "You're not Tav..."

"Thank the gods, I’m not" - the sorceress rolled her eyes in jest.

"Out, in five minutes," - the elf strutted out of the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Talia fastened the last buckle but didn't let go of his hand: 

"Gale, you need to promise me that..."

"As tempting as that is, you know I can't make such a promise," - he tried to smile reassuringly, -  "But I'll do everything possible to ensure it doesn't come to that."

"That's not very comforting..." - she sighed.

"Tally..."

"I know... I know," - she gently stroked his robe few times, then sighed, - "Come here."

"What are you..." - the wizard started to say before she drew closer, tenderly placing her hands on either side of his face and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, savoring the unexpected warmth and affection, leaning in slightly to prolong the moment.

"Show them what the Wizard of Waterdeep is made of." - Talia finally released him, her gaze filled with confidence.

He nodded and walked out of the room, casting a last look at the sorceress over his shoulder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Talia was pacing up and down Isobel's balcony impatiently. Every now and then, she cast a glance at the Towers, hoping to see any hint of what was happening inside, and at the same time, fearing to see anything that might resemble the destructive energy being released from the Sphere. The day was drawing to a close, as far as one could tell in these lands, and there was still no news. Rolan and his siblings had tried a few times to distract her from her oppressive thoughts with idle chatter and a glass of wine, but her feet quickly carried her back to the familiar balcony, where her eyes, dried out from the wind and attempts to blink as infrequently as possible, could not tear themselves away from the ill-fated towers.

"Still nothing?" - Rolan joined her on the balcony.

Talia shook her head, not taking her eyes off the towers.

"Well, at least the sky is beautiful today," - the tiefling looked up at the sky, which was sparkling with stars. A full moon had risen above the towers, illuminating the lake below, - "I haven’t seen the stars so bright in a long time..."

"Stars..." - the sorceress echoed thoughtfully, - "Stars! Rolan!" - she suddenly jumped up to him as if stung, grabbing the sleeves of his robe, - "This is a cursed place, there are no stars here!"

She was about to explain more to him, as the tiefling clearly did not fully understand what was happening, when a shout from the first floor reached them: 

"Sorceress! You are needed here!"

Talia ran down the stairs with a smile on her face, but upon seeing the scene that unfolded before her, her smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. In the middle of the tavern stood Astarion and Shadowheart, both covered in some strange slime, blood, and sweat. They were struggling to hold up Gale, who was barely managing to stand on his own in an attempt to maintain his dignity.

As Talia approached, the tension in the tavern was palpable. Gale’s face was ashen, his eyes dull from exhaustion or pain. He tried to smile when he saw her, an effort that only deepened the lines of fatigue etched across his face.

“What happened?” - Talia’s voice was a mix of concern and command. She shifted Gale's weight onto herself, his arm limply hanging around her neck. Carefully touching his side to support him more, she felt something warm and wet streaming onto her fingers.

“We might have encountered something bigger than we expected...,” - Shadowheart explained, her voice raspy.

Astarion, wiping some grime from his face with a less soiled part of his sleeve, chimed in:

“An understatement, darling. We faced literally a god! And it seems our wizard has a penchant for getting close to any deity he can reach.”

Gale’s attempt to straighten up was futile; his strength was clearly spent:

“It was necessary. You should have seen this crown… this power. We had to try…”

“Why did you drag him all this way?! Shadowheart, just heal him!” - Talia’s heart tightened, hearing the wizard’s hoarse voice.

She just shook her head guiltily:

“Sorry, I’m spent for today. We used up all the healing potions we had in reserve, but it wasn’t enough.”

Talia growled and slightly adjusted his arm on her shoulder to make it easier to carry him: 

“You have a penchant for self-destruction, don’t you, wizard?”

She slowly began the ascent up the stairs, helping Gale reach his room. Astarion and Shadowheart where going to help her, but she growled at them like a she-wolf protecting her cub: 

“You’ve done enough!”

Gale was much taller and heavier than her, but somehow she managed to get him to his room. The wizard practically fell onto the bed, groaning in pain.

"It's okay... Everything will be okay..." - Talia frantically scurried around the room, gathering medicines and supplies. She placed a basin, into which she magically conjured warm water, quickly tore one of her clean shirts into rags, and finally leaned over the wizard.

"Don't you dare pass out, hear me?" - she placed her hand on his cheek, noticing that he was slowly closing his eyes, - "Look at me."

With some effort, he half-opened his eyes: 

"Clearly, you're not giving me much of a choice..."

Talia nodded, satisfied with his response, and turned her attention to the wizard's bloodied robe. She began unfastening it to access the wound, but he flinched slightly in an attempt to dodge, grimacing in pain. Talia smirked:

"What, do I need to take you out on a date before I can take your clothes off?"

She tried to ease Gale's tension, but in reality, she was more trying to calm herself. Her heart was pounding wildly with anxiety for his condition, she tried to hold back tears and, clenching her teeth, knew that now she just needed to get things right. Emotions could be let loose later, once the crisis was past.

"Our relationship has gone too far for a first date, don't you think?" - Gale replied with a groan, but he moved his hands away and let her do her work.

As Talia carefully peeled away the layers of clothing to reveal the wound, she couldn't suppress a gasp. The injury was worse than she had feared; a deep, dark gash that seemed to pulse ominously with his every heartbeat.

"Gods below," - she muttered under her breath, quickly wetting a cloth in the basin and pressing it gently against the wound to cleanse it. Gale winced, but his gaze never wavered from her face, a testament to his trust in her.

“Is it bad?” - he asked, trying to sit up to see the wound, but in vain attempts, he dropped his head back onto the pillow, wincing in pain.

“It will be if you keep moving,” - the sorceress sighed heavily, dipping the cloth in the water, which instantly turned dark red with blood, - “The wound needs to be cauterized.”

“I'm used to being the one who does the searing, not the one being seared…” - Gale squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, clearly dreading the imminent procedure.

Talia picked up a knife from the bedside table and leaned over the wizard, pinning him down with her body to prevent him from moving. Her knee pressed against one of his arms along his side. Her free hand pressed his shoulder, and her chest was close to his. The blade of the knife, heated by magic, turned redder with each second.

“Do you trust me?” - she asked almost in a whisper, leaning close to his face.

“A rather broad question, given the circumstances…” - Gale’s eyes darted between her and the knife in her hand, - “I'm afraid you’ll have to elaborate…”

“Gale!” - Talia snapped him out of his rambling. His eyes refocused on hers.

“With my life…” - he finally exhaled.

She seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, her eyebrows furrowed, before she finally closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He was hot. Literally, he must have had a fever from the wound, his breath was that warm. Gale closed his eyes and moaned softly with pleasure. But the next moment, pleasure turned to searing, bright pain as the sorceress finally applied the heated knife to his wound. He opened his eyes wide, his moan turning into a scream of agony.

Talia pulled away from his face, tensing her muscles to hold him in place. His back arched, lifting off the bed's surface. His hand gripped her forearm, squeezing so tightly she was sure it would leave a bruised mark the next day. It seemed his entire being was focused only on escaping the all-consuming pain.

“I know... I know... just a bit longer...” - her voice trembled traitorously, - “I’m sorry... Just a little bit longer... You’re doing so well...”

Finally, she removed the blade from the wound and carelessly threw it into a corner of the room as if it was the source of all their troubles. She placed her hands on either side of the wizard's face, trying to steady his rapid breathing and make him look at her:

"It's over... it's all okay now," - she breathed deeply herself, not realizing she had been holding her breath while cauterizing the wound, now compensating for the lack of oxygen.

Gale opened his eyes, unable to focus on anything. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his hair was messily spread on the pillow around his face, and his chest, still heaving rapidly, was beginning to stabilize.

"Why would you do that?!" - he finally managed to speak.

"There could have been an infection, we couldn't wait until morning..." - she gently brushed strands of hair from his forehead, slightly tilting her head as if she were an artist making final adjustments to an already perfect painting.

"Talia..." - he grumbled discontentedly, knowing full well she understood what he really meant.

"What?" - she finally pulled away from the wizard and stood up from the bed, - "I had to distract you somehow."

"Well, you certainly succeeded, no doubt about that," - Gale managed to prop himself up on the pillows, - "I do love poetry, but even I understand that no kiss can truly heal. And certainly not numb pain."

"Next time, I'll just shove a stick in your mouth then," - she retorted, turning away from him to focus on the herbs lying on the table nearby. The sorceress carefully separated the leaves from the stems, placing them in a mortar, added a bit of water, and whispered a spell before starting to crush them into a paste with slow, confident movements.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," - the wizard's voice gradually softened as the pain subsided, -  "The smell of one's own burnt flesh doesn't exactly set the mood for romance. Though..." - he hesitated for a moment but continued, - "I'm not against such distractions. On the contrary, I'm all for it."

Talia paused for a second, feeling familiar shivers run through her body. She almost smiled but managed to maintain her composure and returned to her task:

"Next time, there's no need to slash your guts for it," - her face flushed with a betraying blush, - "Just ask nicely."

"Sure I will..."

The sorceress finished preparing the ointment, returned to the bed, and carefully sat down, focusing on the wound. Its edges were slightly charred, but the bleeding had clearly stopped, and the crisis seemed to have passed. In the morning, Shadowheart would do everything to speed up Gale's recovery, but for now, the ointment was sufficient to let the wizard finally sleep without flinching in pain every five minutes. With these thoughts, Talia carefully scooped up a small handful of ointment on her fingers and gently ran them along the edge of the wound. Gale flinched from the initial coolness but then, feeling the relief brought by the herbs, relaxed. His eyes were half-closed, his relaxed gaze shifting from her fingers to her face and back. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes before Talia finally broke it:

"My brother..." - her voice took on a slightly nostalgic tone tinged with sadness and melancholy.

"What?" - Gale didn't immediately understand what she was referring to.

"The person I've been looking for. The one Elminster promised to help find. It's my brother - Nathaniel," - she continued slowly rubbing the ointment into the wizard's skin, carefully, trying not to cause any undue pain. Her eyes were focused on her fingers, but it was evident how memories washed over her like a tide caught off guard. She melancholically and quietly continued:

"My mother was one of the elven sorceresses sent on a ship from Sarifal to Neverwinter to help local wizards deal with the aftermath of the Spellplague. Their ship encountered a storm, and they were forced to change course. That's how they ended up in Port Llast - a small village of stonemasons just north of Neverwinter. The village where my father lived - he had a small workshop where he created sculptures from marble. The storm ended after three days, the elves' ship continued its journey across the sea..." - the sorceress smiled faintly, - "but my mother stayed. And nine months later, my brother and I were born."

The wizard fell silent, as if afraid that saying a word would interrupt the flow of the sorceress's thoughts, and she would end her story. Her fingers, meanwhile, continued their gentle journey across his skin:

"My mother died of fever when we were ten," - her voice trembled slightly, the melancholic smile fading from her face, - "By then, Nathaniel and I had already begun to show our abilities, and only mother could teach us how to manage the wild magic surges. After her death, our father, as much as he wanted to, simply didn't know what to do with us. And what could he do... a simple stonemason, for whom a trip to Neverwinter was the grandest adventure of his life..."

Gale frowned, not fully grasping the significance of what was said:

"Didn't he care about you?"

"On the contrary, perhaps too much..." - Talia sighed heavily, - "But he knew little about the Weave and couldn't give us what we needed most - an understanding of what was happening to us and how to cope with it."

Talia finally finished applying the ointment, gently placed a clean gauze bandage over the wound, and moved back to the table to tidy up. In honest, she just couldn't continue her story while Gale was looking at her so intently. She bent over the dirty, bloodied rags, squeezing them in her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her eyes seemed to focus on one point, her voice turning cold: 

"Imagine his relief when one day not just one sorcerer, but a whole order of them, appeared in our village. They offered to teach us, to show us how to control the Weave and not harm ourselves. They taught us how to use magic to…" - She paused, struggling to find the right words, - "…to punish those who disrupted the usual order of things."

"Punish...?" - Gale frowned, but stopped himself when he saw Talia's significant look.

"We were children, Gale. Children who had spent their entire lives in that damned quarry and knew nothing of life."

"I'm not judging you…" - he tried to explain. She just nodded understandingly and looked away.

"When we turned eighteen, we were supposed to undergo an initiation ritual. I remember my father was so proud of us..." - Talia stopped, dropping the rags from her hands and heavily sitting down on a nearby chair. Her hands were still covered in the wizard's blood, and she stared at them as if mesmerized, - "That night…" - she seemed to barely hold back tears, - "we were told that from that moment on, our new lives would begin. And for that, we had to get rid of the old one..."

"Don't go on... You don't have to..." - the wizard clearly understood where this was heading.

"I couldn't. I didn't," - her facial features suddenly hardened, her jaw tensed, her eyebrows furrowed, - "Nathaniel, on the other hand... always was the obedient student…" - she gritted through her teeth.

Gale felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. How had he managed all this time not to bother to learn more about her? How could he have been so indifferent? How could he whine and whimper like a beaten puppy about the fickleness of his fate, when she silently carried all this inside her? He wanted to hold her, to press her to his chest, to stroke her snow-white hair, to tell her that it was all in the past, that he wouldn't let anything like it happen again as long as she was with him. But all he could do was whisper almost silently, - "Tally…"

As if waking from a trance, she lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes flashing:

"People are capable of terrible deeds, Gale. And many of them cannot be forgiven, should not be forgiven. Believe me, I've had fifteen years to become an expert at this." - Her gaze softened slightly, - "But what you did for your goddess is nothing compared to what I had to face. And her unwillingness... her inability to forgive you is just a demonstration of her own weakness and cowardice."

"Are you ready to forgive your brother for what he did?"

"I never said I possessed the necessary qualities either," - the sorceress stood up from the table, wiped her hands on a clean towel, and headed for the exit of the room.

"Stay..." - Gale said pleadingly.

She merely shook her head slightly: 

"I'll visit you in the morning. Right now... I need some air."

She left the room without waiting for his response. The wizard laid his head back on the pillows, sighing heavily, staring at the ceiling. Was there any truth in what she had told him? Was the guilt, which oppressed him and consumed him from the inside, just something imposed by Mystra to cover her own weakness and pride? In their last encounter, the goddess had told him that he had let her down, disappointed her, even betrayed her. But was that really what he had tried to invoke in her with his actions? Wasn't it just a leap of faith in an attempt to give her everything and even more? Now he was unsure of anything... Healing sleep finally overtook him, and with these thoughts, he slowly succumbed to their lulling flow.

[underworldobsessed]

WIP Wednesday

Okay, I'm kinda excited to do this, as it's definitely been a while since I've shared glimpses of my WIPS. Thank you @optiwashere for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @beetlesacquired, @the-blue-quetzalcoatl and @disneydreamlights but don't feel pressured if you want to do it!

Here we go! I'm gonna share four excerpts from my fics since I've got a lot of WIPs right now. I will note, most of them don't have names yet. I usually save that bit for last.

WIP 1 - Aylin and Isobel Meet Kurik. It's exactly as it sounds, it's the moment Aylin and Isobel meet little Kurik. I've been wanting to write more of these two forever and I figured this was the perfect excuse to do so.

“I haven’t heard from Alfira yet,” Nemeia mumbled. “I’m sure she’s going to bring Kurik a drum or a training lute.”  “I will lose my mind if she did that.” Shadowheart went to clean off her hands, disappearing into their kitchen. “None of us need a child with a drum.”  The three of them laughed, but that laughter died out when there was a knock at the door.   “We’re not expecting anyone…are we?” Shadowheart called over to them. Nemeia sat up, eyes narrowing just a bit. No, they weren’t expecting anyone, not that they could recall anyway. Magic sparked at their fingertips as they got up from their couch, knowing that they would forgo this peaceful moment if it meant protecting their family.  They inched towards the door, readying an eldritch blast, when they heard the voices, loud despite being behind the wood.  “Ally mine! It is Dame Aylin and darling Isobel! We have brought gifts for your new addition!” The voice rang out and Nemeia tried to relax, laughing.  “It’s Aylin and Isobel!” They yelled back “They’re here to meet Kurik!”  “I’ll go grab him from his room!” Karlach yelled back, as Shadowheart joined Nemeia at the door to open it. 

WIP 2 - Shadowheart/Nocturne Fic. This will be one of my first attempts writing Shadowheart/Nocturne. It's two parts, both taking place before the game. The first, where this excerpt is from, is from when Shadowheart and Nocturne are younger, after another instance of Shadowheart's memory being wiped.

“No! I don’t, and I’m so sick of not remembering!” Pain flared from the wound, but despite the agony, Shadowheart ignored it. “I know all will be returned and we will be rewarded in due time but it feels like the Mother Superior wants nothing more than to see me forget every part of who I am and what I’m like to be molded into whatever she wants me to be.”  “Shadowheart, you don’t mean that.” Nocturne sounded like she was trying to reason with her, but Shadowheart shook her head. How could she know what she meant? Nocturne almost never went into the Chamber of Loss. Perhaps she did, and Shadowheart couldn’t remember…  No, why would Nocturne face the Mirror to forget everything. She was good in the Mother Superior’s eyes, Shadowheart was a blight, a mess to be corrected.  “I’m tired of forgetting things, Nocturne. I’m tired of having massive pieces of my memories just lost to the void.” Tears burned Shadowheart’s eyes but she refused to cry. What good would crying do?  She wasn’t the kind of person to cry. Or was she? She couldn’t even remember that information about herself.  She saw Nocturne shift closer to her out of the corner of her eye and felt her arm wrap around her. When was the last time Shadowheart had felt a gentle touch like that?

WIP 3 - Walking on the Road Alone. So this one is just starting out in terms of writing it. I briefly mentioned this where Kurik goes back in time after something disrupts the past and he has to make sure everything goes as it should. I've been working on an outline for it, but I'm too excited so I'm also writing the first chapter at the same time. (Also a note, Odassa is draconic for parent, which is what Nemeia is called by Kurik)

Everything was blood and meat. Bodies littered the ground around him, and at first they all seemed like a mess of flesh and gore. It wasn’t the first time Kurik’s dreams had reflected the darkest parts of him, nor, he assumed, would it be the last. But his parents had worked with him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to will the images away as he closed his eyes, but when he opened his eyes, it was still there. And the details started to clear up.  His Mum, Mama, and Odassa were laying at the top of the pile of corpses, and as he looked he saw his aunts and uncles. His entire family lay bloodied and broken at his feet.

WIP 4 - Sprained Ankle, Huh?. So this one was a fun one. I saw a post about dialogue gotten where Shadowheart admits to feigning a sprained ankle with Karlach so she would carry her. I couldn't resist writing this too.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting in bed,” Shadowheart adjusted the way she was sitting on the couch so they could sit behind her, which they did. Honestly, anything to get them off their feet with their body feeling as heavy as it was.  “I was worried I’d have to perform some daring rescue for the two of you.” Nemeia ran their fingers through Shadowheart’s hair, which she had taken to wearing down more and more. “But you don’t seem too injured, Shadowheart.”  “I sprained my ankle,” Shadowheart’s voice took on a very odd tone and Nemeia smirked. They knew that tone well.  “Uh-huh,” They started to let their hands drift a little, out of her hair and down her sides. “And I know you haven’t fantasized about our darling Karlach carrying you to safety, right? Not like that wasn’t the first thing you said when we met her?”  “Gods, I hate your memory for these things.” Shadowheart’s cheeks turned red and Nemeia laughed, kissing her cheek. “I actually tripped but… the idea crossed my mind when she came up to check on me." 

[thessalian]

Thess vs Fuckboys

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[openheart12]

This Is Me Trying

Summary: During her recovery, OA was always there for her. But when he thinks she's pushing herself too far, he's quick to step in. 

WC: 1,007

When she heard the key in the lock turn and open, she would’ve grabbed her gun if she hadn’t known what time it was. He was on time, as always. She was curled up on the couch, watching some show she had found based on the FBI. The last couple hours had consisted of her pointing out all of the discrepancies. If only the job was as easy as it looked like in the shows.

“They were out of the blueberry muffins, but the girl said the raspberry one was the next best one so if you hate it, it’s not my fault,” he said, handing her the bag with the pastry and the cup of coffee.

“Oat milk?” She asked, taking the food from him.

“I don’t have a death wish, Maggie,” he laughed.

She smiled in return. “Thank you.”

OA had been coming to her apartment every single day since she got out of the hospital. Some nights, particularly on rougher ones, he’d spend the night. Every morning before he left to go to work, he’d drop by her local coffee shop along his way.

It had been a long road to recovery, seven months and she was just now getting the clearance to go back to work. She hadn’t mentioned it to OA yet because she knew he would be worried and be overprotective and as much as she loved it, she needed to get out of her apartment. She started to go stir crazy at the two month mark, her sanity was almost completely gone now. The only thing keeping her sane was OA’s daily trips to see her.

“What are you watching?” He asked, turning his attention to the tv.

“It’s called FBI and trust me, it’s nothing like what we actually do. Apparently they have a consultant from the FBI who helps them with the different cases to make it more accurate. Can you imagine getting paid to do that?”

“They probably make more than the both of us combined still,” he joked as his phone rang. “Zidan,” he answered.

“Hey, it’s me. I tried calling Maggie, but it went straight to voicemail and I was wondering what time she was going to be here tomorrow.”

“I’ll ask her and get back to you,” he replied before hanging up the phone. “Isobel wanted to know what time you’re coming in tomorrow.” He met her gaze, but she looked away. “What aren’t you telling me? Are you coming back to work?”

“I was thinking about it, I was going to talk to Isobel about it tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I knew you would worry.”

“Are you even ready to be back in the field?”

At that, she snapped her eyes to him. “I’m sure.” She hated being treated like a victim.

“It’s only been seven months, recovery can take over a year.”

She shook her head, pushing herself up off the couch, feeling her eyes start to tear. “No one knows that better than me, OA. I lived through it, it’s constantly in my head and I… I need to go back to work.” She leaned up against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself.

He paused to gather his thoughts before speaking. “I just don’t want you to push yourself too much,” he explained, getting up and walking over to her. “I do worry about you, you’re my best friend and I…” he trailed off.

“And what?” She prodded.

“And… I want what’s best for you.” That was the furthest thing from the truth and he didn’t miss the disappointment that crossed her face. The urge to tell her how he really felt only grew after he thought he was going to lose her. She had come so close to death and it would’ve been his fault. The first time he saw sarin gas take the life of his friend had haunted him then and still does, but after seeing it almost take Maggie… that was something he never wanted to see again or think about.

“I know,” she replied softly, “but I’m ready. I promise.”

“Okay,” he said finally. Glancing down at his work, he noticed he had to leave if he wanted to be on time. “I can pick you up tomorrow morning if you want,” he offered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled before he left. And she was left alone with her thoughts again.

The thoughts of that day kept replaying in her mind like a broken record. When OA had accused her of having a death wish, she knew she was being reckless. Driving that bomb away and with only seconds to spare before she would’ve been dead, she didn’t care. Not really. But staring death directly in the face made her realize just how much she wanted to live.

Ever since Jason’s death, one of the few people she cared about was OA and seeing the desperation in his face trying to break the glass in the lab, trying so hard to get to her changed her entire outlook. He was there every step of the way while she was in recovery, he’d spend days in the hospital with her. Sitting with her, holding her hand, cracking jokes to get her mind off of it, getting takeout so she wouldn’t have to eat the hospital food.

It reminded her of how incredibly lucky she was to have him. And how incredibly hard it would be if she ever lost him. When they were talking earlier and he had paused, she thought there was a slight chance that he felt the same way she did.

But it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Even if everything in her body screamed at her to tell him. Losing her partner, her best friend, was something she couldn’t recover from.

Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. She hoped she was as ready as she felt and the anxiety she was feeling would go away. Ready or not, he would be there to help her.

[jamietukpahwriting]

She had seen his eyes grow soft at the mention of Isobel’s name and it became necessary to take a few deep and steadying breaths. “I think that a child who had your example before him would grow up to be—” But she could not go on. It was overwhelming her—this image of the woman he had so passionately loved welcoming him as savior of her home—and the tears she was powerless to check spilled over, making a channel through the smudges on her cheek.

“My darling… oh, my love.” He wiped her face, took the tiller from her, and gathered her to him with his free arm. “What is it, Harriet? What are you frightened of? Tell me, my heart, for I swear that whatever it is—”

“Nothing… honestly, Rom, nothing. I have everything anyone could want. I am probably the happiest person in the world. Only please, please, could we not talk about… what comes next? Could we just live each day fully and properly, savoring every second like in Marcus Aurelius?” And again, “I promise not to make a fuss when the time comes to leave. I promise.”

He left it then.

—A Company of Swans by Eva Ibbotson

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter Eleven

For the first few moments, Izzy couldn’t have said what year it is, much less how long she slept. A while, is the conservative estimate she settles on. Eyes still closed, reluctant to open them and let go of the bit of her dreams. But her body wakes up whether she likes it or not. Settling back into reality, where she’s still in Copia’s bed, where the pillow still smells like him, where it’s safe. Slowly realising that her hand is holding tightly to another and that it’s not only the sound of her own breath in the quiet room.

She’s met by his mismatched eyes when she finally looks, every bit as sleepy as her own. His paints are smudged and his cassock and dark shirt are missing, leaving him in an undershirt and his trousers. A faint smile playing on his lips. One she returns without hesitation or a second thought.

“I was just dreaming about you.” It’s barely a whisper, worried that if the moment breaks, it will shatter. “And here you are.”

His smile spreads a little wider and his hand slips, reluctantly, free of hers. Copia shifts a little closer and even that small move makes Izzy’s heart pound in her chest like it means to break free. His hands cupping her cheeks gently, running a thumb over her cheekbone, staring intently back at her. Without a word, leaning closer, his lips finding hers.

Not the chaste kiss on the cheek, not the soft kiss on the forehead she’s accustomed to from him. Kissing her deeply, passionately. Like she’s dreamed of a thousand times. That has her pressing herself against him and holding him tightly, lost in the taste of his lips and the feel of his body next to hers. Like all of the pieces of her life that had been missing falling into place.

Copia’s forehead presses to her’s, breaking away just enough to take a breath. Lips still brushing against hers, staring into the depths of her soul. She doesn’t even know where to start. But she can feel the tears pricking at her eyes. And there has to be some place to start…

"Cope…” Izzy whispers, holding on a little tighter as if he might vanish. “I… I can't lose you. You understand? I can't. You mean the world to me. More than that. More than anything. And every time I try to say the words, I freeze…"

His lips meet hers again and she wants to scream. Just let me say it. Please, I’ll explode if I don’t say it.

His voice is soft but steady. Certain and confident the way she’s only heard in private, and even then, too rarely. Speaking words that will be carved into her heart and soul until her last breath.

"Isobel, I love you. I love you from the very first moment I see you. I love you more every moment since then. I love you until I can't breathe or think or speak or do anything that isn't loving you. And if I spend one more day without saying it out loud, I will die."

There’s no holding back the tears and she doesn’t even try. It’s too much. Too overwhelming. Her heart aches until it feels like it will burst while a part of her is furious at herself for waiting. For being afraid. For holding back. When everything she wanted, everything she needed was right there.

“… Tell me they are not sad tears… please?” Copia whispers, drying her cheeks.

Her response is somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Slipping her hands up through his hair the way she’s wanted to do for so long, it aches, Izzy pulls him into another kiss. “They aren’t,” she manages softly. “But you really stole my thunder, Cope.”

He lets out a relieved chuckle, wrapping his arms around her. "Scusami."

“I think I can forgive you.” Her fingertips trace the lines of his face, gently, eager for the warmth of his skin against her own and still feeling like she should hold back even a little. Watching his eyes slide closed, the smile on his lips, revelling in the contact just as much. “…. Se sapessi quante volte ho provato a dirlo. O quante volte ho sognato di sentirlo. Quante notti sono rimasto sveglio desiderando che tu fossi accanto a me. Quante preghiere disperate ho fatto... Perché non c'è nessun altro, *nessuno* che abbia mai avuto tutto il mio cuore come te. Nessuno accanto al quale preferirei svegliarmi. Nessuno con cui preferirei passare le mie giornate. Nessuno in tutto il mondo amo quanto amo te. Sei molto più del mio migliore amico. Stando con te... sono al sicuro, visto e... a casa. Ti amo, Copia. Con tutto il mio cuore. E non riesco a immaginare una versione della mia vita senza te.”

His eyes snap open as soon as she starts speaking. Staring at her, frozen in place. Not making a sound until she’s finished. Tears quickly ruining his paints. Copia buries his face in her shoulder, holding her tightly, wrapping himself around her, not able to be touching her enough.

“You don’t tell me you are learning…” His voice cracks.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Izzy’s fingers comb through his hair, softly scratching his scalp.

Copia lets out another strangled sob. “You learn… for me?”

She kisses his temple and his cheek, his jaw and along his neck. Desperate to kiss every available patch of skin. “I wanted to make sure that I was as clear as possible. Because I never want you to doubt how much I love you.”

“Never again. Never, Isobella.” He pulls away enough to look at you. “We have both been very stupid, no?”

She laughs, pressing her forehead to his again and letting the joy wash over her. “We really have.”

“No more. I swear, I tell you every time I think it.” He laughs with you. “Maybe not every time. I don’t get anything else done.”

“If you’re here napping, does that mean you’re not expected anywhere else today?”

“There is nowhere so important that I leave now.” His mouth finds her neck, his warm tongue against her skin. Dragging a moan from her lips, for once, not fighting it. Copia shudders and lets out a shaky breath. “I dream of hearing that sound, amore. For years.”

Izzy’s nose bumps against his and she steals another small kiss. Whispering so close, he fills her whole field of vision. “No more dreaming. I am, as I have been from the first moment I saw you, completely, unquestionably yours. Only yours.”

“And I am yours, Isobel. Always.”

……………

His mind screams at him to take it slow. Not to rush. But he can still taste her lips on his. she’s still pressed up against him. The tiny sounds and the moan he won from her are still ringing in his ears. “I… I want to touch you. Please…”

“Cope… I’ve been waiting so long for that. Don’t make me beg.” She kisses another trail up his neck, speaking softly next to his ear. “I want you, Copia. I need you.”

The noise he makes echoes in her very core, and when his hips press against her, it’s impossible to miss how hard he is. His hand slips under her sweater, exploring slowly, gently, her leg hooking over his hip.

“I think I will go mad with you in my bed.” Copia bites softly at her skin, just enough to tease. “Trying to hold back when all I want is you.”

“I don’t want to hold back. Not anymore. Not with you.” She shifts, half sitting up. Smiling at his quiet whimper. Izzy lifts his hand, kissing his fingers. Grabbing the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head in a single motion. Her arm snakes around behind her back and pops the clasp of her bra open, tossing both aside. However sad he is at the momentary loss of contact turns into a sharp breath and a prayer she’s not sure she’s heard before. His hands eagerly reaching for her as she lies back down beside him, returning to his embrace.

“How do I ever get so lucky?” His hand runs up her side, cupping her breast, catching a pink nipple between his thumb and finger. Pinching just hard enough to get a hiss. Ducking his head to kiss the pain away.

Izzy looks right back at him when he tips his head back to see her. “It’s not luck, Cope. You? You are perfect. Brilliant and sweet and beautiful. It wasn’t some trick or cosmic interference. It was all you. From the very start. You stole my heart and I wanted you to keep it.”

“You take mine in return.” He blushes and kisses her again. “Without complaint from me. You are perfection. I worship at your altar forever, amore.”

Her fingers reach down to lift the hem of his under-shirt, tugging it up, letting her nails ghost over his skin as she does. “Let me see you… please?”

Copia doesn’t hesitate, pulling the thin white shirt over his head and throwing it somewhere behind him. Her fingers combing through his chest hair almost as soon as it’s gone. Kissing along his collar bone and nipping at his shoulder. Reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Her name on his lips like the most obscene prayer.

“Ho bisogno di te, Isobella. Ho bisogno di te come dell'aria.” He breathes, a husky edge on his voice she’s never heard before. One that sends a shudder through her, stoking the white hot flame at her core.

One hand slides down, running over his cock, straining against his pants. Stroking him through the fabric, circling the dark spot of pre soaking through with her thumb. The noise it rips Copia is almost a sob. So long hoping and dreaming and wishing. The reality is overwhelming. And still there is a part of him still screaming for more. Want and need and love and desire all fighting for notice. Thankful when she doesn’t leave him waiting.

She unbuttons his trousers and frees him from the confines of the fabric. Her breath catches in her throat when she looks down at him. It’s one thing to have seen him in his white suit and another entirely to see him achingly hard and leaking. To be able to take him in hand and drink in every perfect, beautiful sound he makes. Running her thumb over his head, through the beads of moisture collecting there. Earning another needy moan.

But he’s still and silent, frozen in place, as he watches Izzy lift her hand and lick her thumb clean. Eyes fluttering and moaning. Sinking into his kiss. The taste of him on her lips. And the thought echoes in his mind again and again.

He knows her. He knows her almost as well as he knows himself. His friend… how many times has he said it before? His best friend. Years of learning and growing and being together. And this? For all the fear and panic and worry? This feels as right and as easy as anything has ever felt. Like this is where she’s always been. Where she was always meant to be. Keenly, embarrassingly aware that he should never have needed a sign in the first place.

Pulling away from her takes every ounce of self control he has. His entire body aching to be pressed against her, touching and tasting and marvelling. Focusing on it only being temporary. Copia kicks off his pants and socks, moving around to the end of the bed to help her do the same. His fingers catching her waistband and smiling hungrily when she lifts her hips to let him drag her pants down and off, leaving her naked before him.

His heart pounds in his chest and his cock twitches in anticipation, crawling up toward her, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her thighs and bury his face in her slick until she’s gasping for breath. But she crooks a finger and he is compelled to obey. Settling between her legs, one hand cupping her breast, his mouth latching on to a perfect pink nipple. Licking and sucking and nipping while she struggles to keep still. Her fingers in his hair, tugging softly.

“Cope…” Izzy moans and the sound of his name said with unrestrained desire has him rutting against the bed. His hand slipping between her legs and running his fingers between her folds. Her grip tightens and she nearly whimpers. Taking a shuddering breath as he circles her clit slowly. “Copia… my love…”

His head snaps up to look at her. Moving up higher on the bed and looking down at her. His Isobel. His love. Copia kisses her deeply as her hands explore every part of him she can reach. her hips rolling against his. Grinding herself against his aching need, dripping and eager for more.

“Please, Isobel… Tell me you want me. Tell me to take you. Tell me yes.” Copia’s husky whisper next to her ear is desperate and rapidly coming undone. His mouth on her neck again. His tongue finds her pulse point and lavishes attention there. Sucking enough to leave a mark. His own mark on her skin where people will see and know. She is his as much as he is hers.

“Yes…” She breathes. “Please. I want to feel you… all of you. I want you.”

His hand runs down her side and her eyes lock onto his. Those mismatched eyes that she adores stare right back at her. The crease in between his brows deepening as Copia presses himself against her. Izzy’s knees hug his sides, nails teasing through his chest hair. Taking a sharp, shaky breath when he presses himself in. Slowly. So slowly. Her hands moving back up into his hair and his forehead pressed to hers. Copia’s voice echoing her own, moaning deeply as his hips bump up against hers. The stretch of him filling her sends sparks along every nerve.

It’s hard to think straight or at all with all of his attention focused on her, the sounds she makes, and the warmth of her around him. Clenching in waves just having him there, buried inside her. Holding himself still and savouring it all. If this was all he was made for, it would be enough to sustain him forever.

“Ti amo... ti amo così tanto. La mia regina.” His lips brush softly against hers.

Izzy’s teeth tease his bottom lip, nuzzling her nose against his. “Anch'io ti amo. Sempre e per sempre. Copia.”

She gently rocks her hips against his and his breath catches in his throat. Not needing any more encouragement to join her. He pulls his hips back and drives himself deep again. A slow, tentative first stroke and then another, and another. Faster and harder. Finding his pace, the both of them finding your rhythm.

Copia reaches back, gripping her thigh, pulling it up higher as he thrusts in again. His moans and grunts muffled by her shoulder as he bites and kisses and runs his tongue over her delicate skin. Every cry and moan from her urges him on.

“Yes, amore…. Yes… Let me hear you…” His breath is hot on her neck, his lips brushing just below her ear. “Please… please, Isobella… Say my name. Say it again.”

Izzy’s fingers tighten in his hair, the sudden tug answered by his hips snapping against hers, hard. And when she moans his name, shamelessly needy and pleading, he can feel himself starting to come undone. Losing what little self-control he has left, the last of his restraint crumbling to dust.

She cries out as he bucks into her, hooking her legs behind his hips and pulling him tighter. Thrusting back against him with equal need. Nothing else matters. There isn’t anything beyond him, the entire universe shrunk down to the two of them and the beautiful ache of him filling her again and again. No dream or fantasy ever came close. She wants to feel it in her hips and thighs for days.

“Oh god, Cope… yes.... Don’t… don’t stop…” Izzy’s nails bite into his back and she crushes her eyes closed, gasping for breath. The fire at her core burns white hot, threatening to consume her. “You’re perfect…. You’re perfect…”

His hips stutter, as close to the edge as she is. Thrusting in deep and hard until words abandon her entirely. Her back arches off the bed, her mouth opening in a soundless cry. Gripping him tightly as the inferno explodes. A moan breaking free from the very depths of her soul. Copia gasping at the feel of her cumming hard around him, dragging him over the edge with her. Burying himself to the hilt, his cock kicking and spilling inside her. His hands grab at Izzy in a way she’s sure will leave marks, and cries out her name.

It’s not just a dream.

Not a fantasy.

Joined as one. Breathless and deliriously happy. Both gasping softly with each tensing aftershock tightening around him, overstimulated and unwilling to give her up all at once. Following the gentle tug of her hands, Copia settles down on top of her. Izzy’s fingers combing through his hair as her breathing begins to level out. He hisses as he pulls himself free and she echoes the sound, whimpering softly, clenching around nothing.

He covers her chest with slow, gentle kisses, and she chuckles softly. Things feel both as familiar as always and completely new. But the urge to tease him lightly, to see his cheeks go pink, hasn’t changed at all. “May I ask you something?” She keeps her voice soft, scratching softly over his scalp.

“Anything, amore mio.” Copia slowly shifts on to his side next to her, tugging Izzy close again.

She runs a fingertip over his thin moustache, setting it back in place. “Yesterday morning, when you reminded me about Sister…” His cheeks are already flushed and she can feel his heart pounding. “Did you call out my name accidentally?”

He groans and buries his face in her shoulder. “I say ask me anything! Why this?”

“You did!” She can’t help laughing.

“You do this to me! You know the night before, you roll over and sleep on my chest? In the middle of my prayer!” Copia’s hands immediately find the ticklish spots at her sides, grinning and laughing when she shrieks, wiggling to get away.

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed!” She offers a weak defence, deciding to retaliate by kissing him again. The tickling attack stops almost immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly to his chest. “To be honest, I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

“No, Isobel. Not just you. Never just you.” His fingers softly tuck her loose hairs behind her ear and send a cascade of goosebumps rushing down her arm.

“… Cope?”

“Hmm?” His lips brush her forehead.

Izzy lowers her voice like she might be overheard, keeping as close as possible. “Did… did you say it… last night? Or was it a dream?”

Copia freezes and she already knows the answer. He’s always a bit like a kid with his hand in a cookie jar when he gets caught. “… I didn’t think you hear me. When I turn around you are sleeping.”

“I wasn’t sure that I had. I thought I must have imagined it. The whole evening I was sitting there, trying to work up the courage to say it or to make a move or… something.” Just being close, sharing a pillow, staring back at him without worrying about how long she’s been staring or getting caught doing it, she’s hit with how much more comfortable it feels. The relationship they had finally becoming the relationship it was always supposed to be.

“You mean what you do with your fingers is not something?” He chuckles, tracing mindless shapes idly over her back. “I nearly snap the controller in half.”

“If you knew how long I’ve spent thinking about running my fingers through your hair.” She smiles gently, far past worrying about sounding silly or the blush she can feel rising. Especially not when his cheeks are just as pink.

“Maybe as long as I think about the same thing.” He whispers, kissing her softly. “I should have told you, at the beginning, and every day since then.”

Izzy hooks her leg over his hip and pulls herself closer to him, curling up against his chest the way she’s been dreaming of. Kissing his shoulder and teasing his chest hair. Enveloped in his warmth and his familiar smell. “Do you think we can agree to something, for… us… together?”

His arms hug her a little closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head, and he closes his eyes. More comfortable and at home than he’s ever felt anywhere. “Us… together… I like this. Tell me.”

“No beating ourselves up over how long it took and just being happy that we’ve got it figured out. There was no wasted time. I was with you and there was never anywhere else I would rather have been. I don’t want to spoil those memories by thinking about what I should have done.”

“... I love you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “Si, I think I can agree to this.”

_______________________________________________________

Scusami. - Excuse me.

Se sapessi quante volte ho provato a dirlo. O quante volte ho sognato di sentirlo. Quante notti sono rimasto sveglio desiderando che tu fossi accanto a me. Quante preghiere disperate ho fatto… Perché non c'è nessun altro, nessuno che abbia mai avuto tutto il mio cuore come te. Nessuno accanto al quale preferirei svegliarmi. Nessuno con cui preferirei passare le mie giornate. Nessuno in tutto il mondo amo quanto amo te. Sei molto più del mio migliore amico. Stando con te… sono al sicuro, visto e… a casa. Ti amo, Copia. Con tutto il mio cuore. E non riesco a immaginare una versione della mia vita senza te.

If you knew how many times I tried to say it. Or how many times I dreamed of hearing it. How many nights have I stayed awake wishing you were next to me. How many desperate prayers I have made… Because there is no one else, no one who has ever had my whole heart like you. No one I'd rather wake up next to. No one I'd rather spend my days with. No one in the whole world do I love as much as I love you. You are more than my best friend. Being with you… I am safe, seen and… at home. I love you, Copy. With all my heart. And I can't imagine a version of my life without you.

Ho bisogno di te, Isobella. Ho bisogno di te come dell'aria. - I need you, Isobella. I need you like air.

Ti amo… ti amo così tanto. La mia regina - I love you… I love you so much. My queen.

Anch'io ti amo. Sempre e per sempre. Copia. - I love you too. Forever and For Always. Copia.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a moon cake

aug 29 - sept 11, 2022

where have the ilcb posts been the last four weeks, i hear you cry? well genuinely, the end of summer took me and i wandered out of time and thought. did watch the moon rise rich and golden last night, though, so--on balance--we're doing just fine.

reading finished my ancillary justice re-read this morning and i got so much more out of it the second time, newly attuned to the little differences between this and all the other space opera i've been enjoying. also finished obernewtyn (isobel carmodie), one of the growing list of YA sci/fantasy i'm catching up on using libby. spent a lot of last week reading or what you will, jo walton, which i think i will have more to say about when i finish it, and listening to ann leckie's the raven tower as an audiobook on various commutes-- perhaps not the best medium for it, but the reader's absolutely eating the accent work which does liven things up. i also acquired a romance novel from @dimir-charmer which is Certainly Something, not quite up to the level of some of the classics @pandolfo-malatesta would review but which has made me say out loud 'stop using that word, i do not think it means what you think it means!' every time this poor author tries to call someone 'contemporaries.'

listening so i know we all remember (for better or worse) passenger's 'let her go' from 2013 or whenever, but i have very specific tender feelings and memories attached to that whole album. a recent re-listen, followed by a tour through his recent, extensive new discography (like five albums since i last checked, holy shit), has shown me that i'm not even remotely capable of being objective, but i do think? that none of the new stuff has grabbed me? like it all sounds consistent, it all sounds, uh, the same, and the nuances and things i can pick out in the tracks from all the little lights (2012) or hell even whisper (2014) are just...not discernible (is this just a question of production)(possibly). to quote one of the new songs, uh, it leaves me cold? whereas 'feather on clyde' is still revealing and teaching me new things to get teary-eyed about (this time it was the line 'well god knows that i've failed, but he knows that i've tried'), and just...plus the string duet at the opening of 'things that stop you dreaming,' the way it builds up so, so sweetly, the lyrics taking you by surprise by leaving no breaks or breaths until the chorus, playing with pace and rhythm--still not tired of it.

watching i spent most of last week cycling between 'sandman', 'doulou continent', and 'oath of love', with a brief detour to the mdzs donghua with @hematiterings as per us-- sandman is good, though i haven't finished it. i got to the death episode and did briefly cry actual human tears about the old violinist and the young honeymooners, only to have the rest of the episode with its chronological humor (reminding me of ep 3 of 'good omens', what with the 'let's put our cast in several different centuries and enjoy what that does to their hair', thank you neilman) give me slight emotional whiplash. the problem with my cdrama habit is that, especially with duolou continent, i've had a hard time believing i've seen as many episodes as i actually have (also viki is...incapable of keeping my place) so i tend to back up to whichever episode number sort of feels right? which means i've seen episodes 11-15 like three times each. at least now i'm getting people's names.

playing finished up summer and fall of year two in stardew, won the grange fair and the ice fishing contest now that it's winter, and just bought a duck! (her name is fern)

making i think the garden is fading, we're still harvesting tomatoes but a lot of the leaves have turned yellow and crinkly, meanwhile the squash (?) vines have all withered except for one, perplexingly round little green squash (?) with a few nibbles out of it courtesy of the neighborhood fauna. when do i pluck it? is it still...getting anything out of being on its vine?

working on *cue panicked laughter* chapter 1! also that presentation / conference paper based on chapter-1-or-possibly-the-old-book-practicum! also that presentation based on chapter-2-or-possibly-chapters-1-and-2-OR-possibly-the-diss-proposal! with all the complaining i've done to various friends and colleagues, its no wonder there's not been any. further writing. distracting myself by insisting on doing things for the incoming students, which has been very fun and diverting since they are cute and much easier to help.

[lovecolibri]

Things that Spark Joy-4x12

Again this will mostly be Malex focused because how could it NOT be, but there was also some other good stuff this episode as well! As always, salty thoughts are here, but lets get into all the joyful goodness!

It was nice getting a classic Liz voice-over again!

We also got a few good Echo moments which was nice because I really liked them in the beginning but the writing just could not deliver and sent them in circles more often than not. But Jeanine and Nathan are great and play well off each other so it was nice to see them on the same side of things and working together and supporting each other. His love for Liz being his anchor was a good callback to season 1.

Kybel was SO CUTE this episode! Just staring at each other and grinning like idiots until Max interrupts at which point Iz definitely had an “if looks could kill” moment. I haven’t been thrilled with them sidelining Kybel most of the show only to cram it all in now, but that’s partly due to just how fun Trevino and Lily are to watch together and I wanted so much more of it all along the way! At least the show doesn’t look like it’ll leave them hanging in limbo forever. The big kiss was cute too and Jeanine’s initial reaction, her shocked Pikachu face, and Liz’s continued badgering of Kyle for info was a nice reminder of how far that friendship has come.

Kyle also continues to be the heart and steady rock of this group. Every scene he’s in is so good and I just love his character so much. He’s so encouraging of Isobel, and Rosa and especially Liz this episode. He’s gentle with her, while also not letting it slide when he sees something is wrong. I know I talk a lot of shit about this show and the plots never making sense but I really do love Kyle and I wish they had utilized him better throughout the show because he really is an amazing character. 

 I’m not...particularly thrilled with the addiction storyline for Liz or how it was handled but I LOVED getting Rosa/Kyle/Liz scenes! They’re siblings and we should have gotten more of them together when Rosa first came back but it was nice to get it before the end of the show. Also Rosa’s line to Liz about Liz needing to realize she needed help before anyone could truly help her was a good lesson for someone like Liz who has been so independent and taking care of herself and everyone else for so long.

We also got some pod squad scenes again which while brief, were nice and hopefully we’ll get some more in the finale of the three of them working together.

Max taking that cheap shot at Clyde was all of us in that moment

Loving Dallas and Michael’s relationship and how it’s grown! Michael picking him up and bodily moving him to safety was sweet. It’s going to be so good to see Dallas happy when he performs the wedding this time because you could tell he was putting on a front earlier. 

And now it’s time for ALL THE MALEX GOODNESS! This episode allowed Tyler and Vlamis to do what they do best and deliver gut punches, epic speeches, tenderness, and jokes, all wrapped up with love. The show sidelining them and not letting them have the majority of their scenes together over the past 4 seasons has been one of the biggest mistakes this show has ever made, but at least even with the mess they were given, Tyler and Vlamis absolutely delivered a whole meal this episode! They make us believe all the things we didn’t see or the show didn’t build up to because they are absolutely magic together.

We all know how everyone, included Tyler and Vlamis feel about that banner, BUT taking the words away, the sentiment is Dallas and Bonnie in this post-apocalyptic hell-scape trying to make something festive to celebrate what should be a joyful moment but it tainted by grief, and as such it’s incredibly sweet and makes me tear up as long as I don’t actually read the banner. I love that they found some music to play too, just trying their best to make something special with what they had

Michael refusing to let what should be the happiest day of their lives happen in grief and turmoil instead was EXACTLY the kind of energy I expected from him. Though NGL, Alex saying “don’t let me die without marrying you” would have been the kicker for me, but we got to see Michael building on what he learned in season 2, that he can say “no” and topping it off with a vow that he will not let Alex die and he WILL marry him, at home. He knows what Alex wants and what he wants and he is READY to fight for it.

Plant Daddy Guerin!! We’ve been knew he wanted to study agricultural engineering and with the tidbit we got about Nora causing the field at the Long farm to grow, it was nice to have this moment letting us see Michael’s genius as well as the tie to his mom. Plus Michael and Alex making innuendos and smiling and giggling at each other is adorable and I love it so much for them.  

If we don’t get to at least see a glimpse of Malex getting to take a long hot shower when Alex is healed (or sitting in a bath, I am NOT picky) I’m going to riot. Them being so open about their affection and desire for each other has been SO good to see this episode! And around other people too! They deserve some time for comfort, relaxing, and tenderness after all they’ve been through..

We got SO many sweet, soft, casual touches with Malex this episode! Like, yes Michael is helping Alex walk because he’s sick  and hurt, (and even without that you know they’d be wrapped up in each other anyway) but Alex is letting him because he trusts Michael with this part of himself. We also got cheek brushes, and chin brushes and just near constant touching which is exactly what I expected from them and exactly what they both deserve.

The way Michael gently chided Alex about how bad the situation was for him and made it clear that with everything going on, he’s choosing Alex and being with him because it’s the most important to him, was so good! He had the tone of voice *almost* like talking to a child (”every minute is like being in a microwave for you”), but it comes across more like “you idiot, you are my priority and getting you safe is more important than anything else so stop worrying.” I just love that scene so much.

Alex laying down to take a nap was a mood honestly, but also he’s probably been unable to let his guard down much being alone in a place with unknow dangers so him feeling safe enough, even when sick, to let himself rest because he knew Michael was watching out for him is just 🥺🥺🥺

Michael’s absolute refusal to even entertain the idea of leaving Alex behind was such a mirror to Alex not leaving him behind in Caulfield! But while that moment was about letting go of the hope to reunite with his mom in order to survive another day, in this case it’s a scene about clinging to hope, and FIGHTING for their future. And no harsh words come out this time, just a steadfast belief that they will make it. Michael’s little “so drink up, soldier” you can tell made Alex grin a little (and if he wasn’t actively dying he surely would have said something about being an airman not a soldier) but it also solidified Alex’s hope and gave him strength. He’s a military strategist and a genius in his own right and he ran the probabilities and of course factored his own life so low on the list that his death was an acceptable loss. So I think it was something he really needed in that moment, to see that Michael wasn’t going to give up on him, Michael wasn’t going to leave him behind, that no matter what anyone else thought, his death was not an acceptable loss to Michael. We’ve been asking since season 1 to see Michael fighting for Alex and he absolutely came through here, even when Alex wasn’t going to fight for himself. I am dyyyying at Kyle (the heart of this show)’s words coming back around, that when Alex was out of hope, Michael would carry it for the both of them, and in turn, Alex was able to carry it when Michael’s ran out. It’s that feedback loop of helping to carry the weight and it’s not always and even 50/50 split, but it’s always shared. BRB gotta go cry about them for a minute.

And then we have the end of the episode, where all of Michael’s hope has finally dried up. He pulled a miracle out of a hat and it wasn’t enough and now we are really hitting the Caulfield parallels but with both of them saying the things they couldn’t fully say back then. Michael sobbing and saying he’s only ever wanted to make Alex happy and should have married him when he had the chance and that he just wanted to build a life together broke me. He has been dreaming of that white picket fence, little alien babies, and a dad band since he was a teenager and a few weeks ago they were solidly on the path to that future and now he’s given everything and failed. But now it’s Alex’s turn to carry hope for both of them. Him flat out telling Michael not to to talk about “his fiancé” like that was so good and something I think they will both be using in the future as a tool to combat the other’s self-worth issues when they crop up. Then we get Alex making it clear this time that it’s out of absolute love, but to stop whining. just...*chef’s kiss*. Michael always said his genius increases when he’s pissed off but at this point he’d given up all hope. Alex gave him exactly what he needed which was a reminder that he has done impossible things before, and that he has always had to fight and make his own way. “There must be some spark left in six aliens. Make it!” was so powerfully delivered and the jump-start Michael needed. Alex wasn’t giving up, so he wouldn’t either. (Also, not to bring 911/Buddie into this, but this scene hit me RIGHT in the “you don’t find it son, you make it” feels.)

And there we have it! I am SO excited to see the finale and the Malex wedding (at HOME with Sanders in a tux, Michael and Alex actually happy, and without that godawful blue filter), and I’m holding out hope for a handprint healing because by golly, we deserve it. But more than anything, I’m looking forward to the Vlamburn photoshoot and all the Vlambase goodness! It’s been a wild ride, but Tyler and Vlamis especially built something so special and I’m glad things are ending on a high note for them. They, Malex, and the fans deserve it.

Link to previous episode posts: 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06, 4x07, 4x08, 4x09, 4x10, 4x11

[stayextrafrosty]

All That I Want Is to Finally Be Honest

Summary: 3x09 coda. Michael creates a truth serum in an attempt to help Liz get information out of Jones. He has no one to test it on so he injects himself. Well, he doesn’t expect Alex to come visit. And while they’ve been talking about things more, there’s still stuff Michael needs to say.

A/N: When I say this is porn with feelings… I mean that in the most intense way. The emotions come out full force here. Title taken from the song "Back To U" by SLANDER. This was supposed to be done before 3x10 but alas.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

-

“I told you, Ortecho. The serum is done but I need to test it. Are you a willing subject?” Michael said as he swirled the liquid in the beaker.

“I told you I’m busy making more of the alien suppressant. Call Isobel. She’s been itching for things to do.” Michael snorted and hung up the phone. He knew she was right. Isobel had been poking her nose into everything Michael and Liz had been working on. She offered to help but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do under the circumstances. But maybe it would be a good idea to put her under oath for a little bit.

He reached for the phone in his pocket, groaning when he saw the ‘no service’ message. This bunker was so hit or miss with it these days. He wished he could send actual thoughts to Isobel as opposed to just feelings over long distances.

Carefully setting the beaker in a holder, he stepped away from the table, wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans. He climbed up the ladder, pushing the hatch open with his mind. The sun nearly blinded him as cool air whipped around him. He sat himself on the edge of the hole, waiting for his phone to connect again.

As soon as it did, it buzzed a few times as text messages came in. Three separate messages from Isobel spit balling theories and asking if he needed anything from her. He had tried to tell her to get some rest but she was determined to be the one to take Jones down. She had planned a date with some new girl in town but every time Michael asked about it she said there were other things to focus on.

Date.

He and Alex had made plans but of course they got interrupted. By a machine of all things. A machine that made him hallucinate Michael’s mom. Practically throwing every single doubt about them in his mind right back in his face. Alex didn’t want to tell him the full extent of the things she had said. The things he was thinking. Michael understood for the most part. He wasn’t keeping things from him to be cruel. Just the opposite. Alex was trying to protect him. Alex was always protecting him.

Michael sent a quick message back to Isobel about the serum and how he needed help testing it. The phone buzzed again in his hand and he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. He was only thankful Sanders wasn’t around to tease him about it. Alex’s name was at the top of the new message. He tapped the notification to re-open their conversation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t spend the time rereading their conversations since Michael had kissed him. Until then, Michael had thought Alex wasn’t the type to use emojis, but they were being sprinkled throughout more messages.

‘Hope your day is going well’ followed by a blushing smiley face. Michael laughed and shook his head.

‘It would be better if I could see you’ he sent back. He started to climb back down the ladder but his phone buzzed again. He opened the message, being greeted by Alex’s small smile and half lidded eyes as he rested his head on his arm on his desk. He wasn’t fully recovered and Michael could tell. But even with the dark circles, he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Michael had tried to get him to take a few days off but Alex was insistent. He swore that he would only work on the machine in the way they discussed from now on. And Michael was pretty sure Eduardo was now watching him.

The soft smile still made his heart flutter. This is real. They could casually send pictures of themselves and it wasn’t weird. Michael could see Alex whenever he wanted. And god he loved him. He loved him so much he could jump out of his skin every time he heard his name. There was a twitch in his fingers that told him only to touch Alex. Hold him close and never let go.

“You’re gunna fall if you keep standin’ on the ladder like that!” Michael jumped at Sanders voice. The old man had his eye brow raised and arms crossed as he stood outside of the office trailer.

“Just trying to get some fresh air,” Michael called back as a gust of cold wind whipped through the yard. Sanders shook his head and moved back into the trailer. Michael climbed down the ladder but left the cover off, hoping that would let his phone continue to get service.

He began filling syringes with the serum. His phone buzzed on the table and he briefly glanced at it to see Isobel’s response. She had found something to occupy her time apparently; investigating a lead about where the new alien had disappeared to.

Michael sighed and looked at the needles. He supposed he could just test it on himself. But if it worked properly (which it should) would Sanders really want to listen to all of the stories he had kept secret all this time?

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled to himself. Picking up one of the syringes, he watched the green liquid shift. He slipped his flannel off his shoulders, tossing it onto the table. The black t-shirt he wore underneath didn’t do much to keep the cold from the open hatch from sinking in. He pushed a small amount of the serum out of the needle before slipping it into his arm.

“Mad scientists always test on themselves, right?” he asked nobody as he set the empty tube back on the table.

He felt nothing as he walked around the bunker, tapping a pen on the notebook in his hand. Had it really been a bust? Maybe he needed to use more of the powder. He used significantly less than Liz did in her alien killing poison but maybe he needed just a bit more to influence the prefrontal cortex.

He mumbled a curse as he made a note. He didn’t have time to remake this crap a million times. Jones was out there and who knew—

A wave of dizziness washed over him, sending him to his knees. He tried to pull himself up by grabbing the table but the room spun. He missed every attempt to grab the metal edge. Black creeped in at the edge of his vision. He let himself collapse to the floor and he rolled onto his back. Michael fought to keep his eyes open for as long as possible but the promise of sleep was too tempting.

-

“—rin! Guerin! Come on wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now… Michael!”

Alex’s voice was distant, like he was underwater. There was a feint pressure floating across his upper body, poking and prodding. His head radiated pain but it was slowly fading. He began to feel like he was floating as opposed to the hard surface he had been laying on. But at least feeling was starting to return to his body.

“Michael, please. I’m begging you to open your eyes. Twitch your fingers. Scrunch your nose. Anything.” Alex was louder now, as though coming from right above him. He finally oriented himself enough to recognize that his head was elevated. A trembling hand held his own, obviously trying to stop shaking by squeezing harder. Something wet dripped onto his cheek.

“Damnit, Michael!” Alex choked out a sob. Michael summoned all the energy he could and squeezed his hand. He heard Alex gasp above him and then he was squeezing back. Another hand brushed hair off his forehead and traced down the side of his face. Michael would have shuddered at the feeling of his hands but he still didn’t have much movement in his body.

Instead he swallowed and tried to make some kid of sound. Any word that would sooth Alex. He just ended up with a clipped groan. Still Alex seemed to release a sigh of relief.

“Michael. Can you hear me? Are you ok?” Michael just made another strangled sound and gave a barely there squeeze to his hand. He focused his efforts to opening his eyes instead. He wanted to see Alex.

The dim lights above him still felt too bright and everything was blurry. He could vaguely make out the form of Alex’s head bent over him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog in front of his eyes. As his focus sharpened, he met Alex’s wide eyes. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and a small smile found its way to his lips.

“I’m ok,” Michael managed to croak out. Then Alex was bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Michael would have responded but he was pulling away too soon.

“Wait… do it again,” Michael mumbled. Alex shook his head.

“Let’s at least get you sitting up.” He groaned as Alex lifted his shoulders and helped him turn so he could lean against the counter. Michael noticed his position on his knees. How long had he been sitting like that with his head in his lap? It was probably uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He moved sluggishly to grab Alex’s arm and pull him off his knees to a sitting position next to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. But I love that you do.” Michael wanted to correct himself. Take back the second part. It was still too soon.

“What happened? Did someone come hurt you?” The new anger in his voice was barely contained. Michael blew extra air out of his nose in a laugh and shook his head.

“No. I stuck myself with a serum I’ve been working on for Liz. I needed a guinea pig and no other alien was around. I think I used too much of the yellow powder and knocked myself out. No big deal.” He reached over to rest a hand on Alex’s thigh and squeezed gently. “There’s no need to be angry. But the fact that you are makes me love you more.” Stop talking! He was screaming at himself.

Alex sucked in a breath and turned his face away, but Michael caught the blush that overtook his cheeks. He let himself slide to the side, resting his own head on Alex’s shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment and the fog in his head continued to clear.

“What kind of serum was it?” Alex asked quietly.

“Supposed to be a truth serum. The idea was that once we over power Jones, we stick him with it and he tells us all the secrets of the universe. How to swap Max and Jones back into their proper bodies. History of our home planet and the War. Stuff about us.” He knew that this was more information than he was asking for but he couldn’t stop talking. “Did you know I’m immune to fire? That was a hell of a discovery. Spent the better part of a day setting my hand on fire to see if it did anything. Never did. There really was an irony in you telling me that you’d burn the world down for me.”

“Michael…”

“Sure you’d burn the world but did you ever consider I would walk through fire for you? That maybe the world is already burning but it doesn’t matter because I can withstand it all. Just for you.”

Suddenly a hand was covering his mouth and Alex was staring at him so intently Michael thought he might be reading his mind. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes and his breathing was shaky, as though Michael had overwhelmed him.

“I.. think the serum works,” Alex said quietly. Michael wrapped his fingers around his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but not too far.

“I love you, Alex.” He pulled his hand back to his lips, pressing them to his palm. “And I should have said that to you so much earlier.”

Michael could see the way Alex fought against the smile. He breathed out a half laugh and looked anywhere except him.

“Tell me that when you haven’t drugged yourself,” Alex teased gently.

“Alex, I can’t lie.”

“I know. But I want you to tell me when you’re ready.”

Michael kissed his palm again, then moved his hand slowly down his cheek and placed it on the back of his neck. Alex slipped his fingers into his curls, nails scratching lightly at his head.

“I want to kiss you,” Michael said softly, cupping Alex’s jaw and running his thumbs over his cheeks. He let one go just far enough to press against his bottom lip, pulling it down. Alex’s lips parted as his hand threaded through Michael’s hair tightened.

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” he responded, breathless.

Michael couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. He leaned forward, resting his head against Alex, just breathing in the smell of him. He brushed their lips together and Alex gasped. The small sound sent a thrill through Michael. His heart fluttered and his stomach twisted with nerves.

“I want you,” Michael mumbled.

“You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His body trembled as the words warmed every part of his body. Need settled between his legs as he rolled himself to straddle Alex’s thighs. His free hand landed on Michael’s hip as the hand in his hair tugged him closer, brushing their lips against each other again.

Michael hadn’t been this nervous about intimacy in years. This was Alex after all. They communicate with bodies and moans. It’s the way they understand each other. They always fit together so well. Filling in the cracks of each other and making something more beautiful than when they were apart.

Alex was the one who closed the distance between them, capturing Michael’s lips, stoking the fire under his skin. He moaned softly, pressing his hips against Alex.

They had kept their kisses chaste since the night at the Pony, neither wanting to rush into this before they knew where they were going. But Michael had been craving Alex for almost three years. To have him wrapped in his arms as sweat eased the movement of their bodies. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He couldn’t.

Alex tugged on his hair with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. Michael’s hands were moving down to the unbuttoned flannel. He shoved it off his shoulders to expose the white shirt underneath. Alex only released him to chuck the shirt somewhere to the side before he was grabbing at the hem of his shirt and pushing it up.

Michael separated for a moment as he gripped Alex’s shoulders, running his fingers over the collar of his shirt. He felt the cool press of metal and remembered the dog tags Alex had taken to wearing.

His mind wandered to the way they would move against Alex’s chest. The way they would intensify the feeling of Michael’s warm fingers as he traced the chain on his skin. He groaned as he also realized that it was something he couldhave.

Michael kissed Alex again, grinding down against him. He wanted to make sure he knew just how badly he wanted him. Alex shoved his hands under his shirt, fingers splayed over his stomach and then moving to his sides and eventually his back. Alex scratched him lightly as he pulled him closer, encouraging the movement of his hips more.

He shuddered and cursed against his lips. He felt like a teenager again. Like he might come undone without even getting their pants off.

“Wait,” Michael mumbled, breathless. Alex pulled away immediately, looking almost scared that he had done something wrong. Michael smiled warmly at him before crushing their lips together one last time. He only held it for a couple seconds before he was pushing himself off the floor. He grabbed Alex’s hands on the way up, using his telekinesis to help lift him to his feet also. Alex looked around, shocked in a way. Michael was a bit startled too. The pollen was supposed to suppress their powers. Maybe the amount he used was too small to have a real effect. Instead of pointing this out, Michael just chuckled and pushed Alex back against the edge of the counter, head dipping to place wet kisses over his neck.

“Come to my trailer,” he said against his throat. “If I’m going to show you just how much I love you, I’ll at least do it in a proper bed.” Alex’s head fell back as Michael’s mouth moved. But he nodded quickly.

Michael forced himself away from Alex, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the ladder. He let Alex climb out first, following closely behind. He shut the cover to the bunker with hardly a glance behind him. He flung the trailer door open next and all but shoved Alex inside, though still cautious of his leg.

Not that Alex was any more patient than he was. Alex grabbed him by his shirt, pulling their bodies flush against each other as Michael locked the door with his mind. Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as their lips came together again. Alex whimpered as his tongue teased his lip. Michael tugged it between his teeth, groaning at the way it made Alex melt against him.

Alex’s hands dragged down his chest to the hem of his shirt again, yanking it up. They only separated for a moment as Michael finished removing the garment. Michael shoved him backwards onto his bed. He smiled down at him and watched hungrily as he rushed to undo the button on his jeans. All of this the same path they had taken three years ago. But it was different now. Neither was going to run away.

Michael crawled onto the bed, settling between Alex’s thighs as he pushed his shirt up and over his head before capturing his mouth again. They sighed against each other’s lips as their skin moved together effortlessly. The cool metal of the dog tags Alex was wearing shocked Michael, but that only made him want to press closer.

Fingers pulled at his hair and then scratched down his back until they reached the top of his jeans. Michael’s mouth fell open in a silent moan as Alex traced the hem around to the belt buckle. He fumbled with the strap for a moment before he yanked it free and immediately popped the button on his jeans.

Michael shifted back to his knees to admire the beautiful man below him. His face was red, lips swollen and wet as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were half lidded as he ran his fingers over Michael’s abs and tried to pull him back down by the hem of his jeans. As much as he wanted to go with whatever Alex wanted, he wanted to take it slow. The temptation to just throw all their clothing off and get Alex moaning taunted him. But they could do that any time. No. Michael was determined to show him exactly what he thought of him.

He took Alex’s hands in his, threading their fingers together and pressing them down next to his head. Leaning down again, he kissed Alex slowly, only just barely running his tongue over the seem of his lips. A small whine bubbled up from Alex’s throat as his fingers squeezed Michael’s. Michael rubbed his hips against Alex and they both gasped at the friction.

“I need you,” Alex panted out. Michael hushed him gently as he trailed his lips over his jaw to his neck. Alex’s body arched against him as he sucked at his pulse point. Once he was satisfied with the mark, he moved down past his collarbone and hovered over his heart, breathing over the skin before pressing his mouth against him softly.

He slipped his hands out of Alex’s, letting his fingers just ghost over his arms. Michael continued his movement down his body, leaving small, wet kisses in his wake. His hands followed the same path through the hair on his chest as his mouth worked over his stomach to the trail of hair leading down from his belly button.

“I can never come up with the words to tell you how perfect you are,” Michael breathed against his skin. He pressed his forehead against the bottom of Alex’s ribs as he dragged his fingers down to the hem of his jeans. He felt Alex’s hands run through his hair, scratching and tugging. Michael slipped his fingers into the waistband and began pulling the fabric down.

“Michael, wait,” Alex said. He froze and looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. “Let me take off the prosthesis first.” He pushed himself up to his elbows before Michael stopped him.

“If you’ll let me, I can take it off for you.” Alex’s shoulders sagged as a small smile found it’s way to his face. He nodded slowly and took Michael’s hand, pulling it to his mouth to press a couple chaste kisses to his fingers.

Michael slipped to his knees on the floor. He rolled Alex’s pant leg up, exposing the metal and plastic. He worked quickly with Alex watching him, undoing straps and tugging gently. He set the leg to the side carefully, leaning it against the wall.

He looked back up at Alex and hoped that he didn’t blush from the soft look he was getting from him. He rolled the sock off his stump and set it to the side with the prosthesis. He watched Alex through his eye lashes as he pressed kisses to his knee.

Alex gasped softly and pushed himself up completely so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Michael’s face in his hands tenderly, brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. Michael ran his hands up his legs to his waist and over his stomach. His fingers brushed against the metal of the dog tags when he got to his chest.

He dragged one hand back down to Alex’s hip. The other he let catch on the metal chain. He met Alex’s gaze as their heavy breathing mingled between them. Then Michael tugged on the chain, firmly pulling Alex down toward him.

He pushed himself up at the same time, mouths coming together with a chorus of moans and gasps. Their tongues tasted each other as Michael pushed himself up and Alex back on the bed. Alex’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as their bodies would allow.

Michael braced himself with one hand while the other ran down Alex’s body to the waist of his pants again. He grabbed and tugged both the jeans and underwear over his hips. Alex, lifted himself so he could bring them down to his thighs.

He pulled away from Alex to finish removing his clothes, tossing them somewhere to the side. Michael licked his lips as he took in every beautiful inch of him. The firm muscles barely hidden beneath the soft skin. He touched his thighs, the hair tickling his hands. He moved slowly up his thighs and to his hips where his hardness rested between his legs.

Michael avoided touching his cock, instead focusing on massaging everything else around it. He dug his fingers into the soft spot on his hips. Alex rolled toward his touch, sighing blissfully. And he couldn’t help himself, leaning down to press featherlight kisses to the v just below his abs. Alex made a small whimpering sound as he pulled at his own hair.

“So amazing…” Michael mumbled as he continued his line of kisses up over his abs. “Beautiful and strong…” Alex gasped out his name when his hands scratched up his sides and to his arms to hold them above his head. “You were made for me, Alex. I was made to touch you, to kiss you, to live for you, to love you.”

Michael kissed his way back up to his chest, inhaling his scent and hoping that it would be left on his own skin for days. He pressed his tongue over Alex’s nipple briefly before kissing across his chest to the other one. Alex arched his back, pressing his member against Michael’s abs and rubbing. He chuckled.

“Touching you was always the most rewarding part,” he said sweetly before running the tip of his tongue up over his chest and neck and back to his lips. He left only a few centimeters between them as he spoke, “You’re so responsive. I can’t help but want to take you apart.”

“Kiss me, Michael. Now,” Alex ordered. Michael would never deny him anything. Not unless that was the plan. It was about both of them this time. He could play with him in the future. Michael slid his mouth over Alex’s, not being able to stop the smile.

They had a future. And this was only the first of all the ways he would be allowed to love him.

Michael released Alex’s arms and ran his fingers back down his torso to his hips. He pressed the length of his body against him. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, licking into his mouth and nipping at his lip. Michael moaned softly and rocked his hips against him.

He released Alex to push his own pants and underwear to his knees before kicking them off. He let most of his weight collapse on top of Alex, rolling his hips to rub them against each other. They moaned together as a shudder ran down Michael’s spine.

Alex untangled one of his arms to reach between them. He wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking slowly. Michel groaned into his mouth as his arms started to shake from the effort of holding himself up. He tore himself away from Alex, knowing that if he let this continue, he would finish before even getting inside him. He sat back on his knees, tracing a pattern through the hair on his chest and down to his cock.

He pushed Alex’s hand away from them gently. His panting only increased as Michael took his legs and bent them back slightly. Michael slid down his body so that his mouth hovered over Alex’s now twitching member. Every breath that brushed over him made it jump in anticipation.

He felt Alex’s hand in his hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes. His mouth hung open as his eyes begged for any sort of stimulation. A small bead of precum sat at the tip, threatening to roll down the side.

“You’re so perfect,” Michael said just before taking Alex into his mouth for the first time in years. The salty taste of him was better than he remembered as he slipped most of the way down his shaft. Alex jerked and gasped, tugging on his hair to pull him closer. Michael groaned around him, feeling the way Alex’s fingers tightened again.

Michael rubbed the back of his thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, pushing them open so he could have better access. He let his tongue tease around the head as he slipped further with every down stroke.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex pleaded. He looked up at him to meet his eyes. He felt the shudder run through Alex’s body as he gasped and twisted his other hand into the sheets on the bed. Then Michael sank down again, taking him to the back of his throat and burying his nose in the short hair at the base.

Alex’s hips jerked up and Michael suppressed his gag reflex by gripping his thighs harder. Alex tugged his already swollen bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back. Michael wanted to imprint the image of him blissed out into his brain.

He lifted his head until just the tip with in his mouth before sinking back down in one movement. Alex cried out in pleasure as his fingers pulled on Michael’s hair again. He continued the pattern a few more times before pulling off completely. Alex whined in protest. Michael chuckled and smirked up at him. Then he trailed the tip of his tongue down his length and over his balls, sucking one into his mouth briefly before moving to his ass.

Alex’s back arched again as he tried to press closer to Michael’s tongue. He mumbled something incomprehensible when he started teasing his rim. Michael shifted his hands down to his ass, spreading him open.

“Not… enough…” Alex panted out. Michael nipped at the skin of his ass lightly.

“Just be patient, darlin’,” he said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his skin. Then he pressed his tongue flat against his hole while his thumb pushed just past the rim. Alex’s hips rocked more as small moans slipped from his lips.

Michael worked his thumb in slowly, letting the tip of his tongue slip in alongside it. He pressed against Alex’s walls, urging him open. Alex groaned from above him and grabbed handfuls of his hair, yanking him back up his body to crush their mouths together. Michael didn’t exactly fight hard against it.

He kept his fingers at his hole, slipping his middle finger in and out of him teasingly. Alex bit at his lips and shoved his tongue into his mouth. It stole Michael’s breath away, feeling the desperation he poured into the kiss. He only hoped Alex could feel the same from him. He didn’t get the chance to reciprocate for long because Alex pulled away, instead pressing their foreheads together.

“Tell me you have lube,” he said, voice shaking and breathy.

“Of course.” Michael reached out with his mind to the lowest drawer under the sink. He floated the bottle toward them and dropped it on the bed. “You saying you didn’t like my attentions?” he teased with a smile.

“I liked it too much,” Alex said, brushing their lips together and rocking his hips against Michael’s fingers. “I need to feel you inside me again. To be as close to you as possible. To lose track of where I end and you begin.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. Michael would do anything for Alex. Bend to his every whim and request.

So he removed his finger from Alex’s hole and instead wrapped his arm around his waist and the other around his back. He pulled him up so he was sitting on his thighs as Michael kneeled on the bed. Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

Michael kissed him again, soft and slow. He gripped Alex’s skin, digging his fingers into the muscle. Alex sighed and held him tighter in return. When he was sure he was balanced on his thighs, he reached for the bottle and flicked the cap open. Realizing he was going to need to hands, he pulled his lips away from Alex. There was a small noise of protest that Michael silenced with a quick peck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed over his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

He released Alex slowly as their lips slipped over each other again. Michael squeezed a small amount of lube on his fingers. He rubbed it around for a moment before finding Alex’s entrance again. Alex gasped as his fingers prodded the opening.

There was little resistance to the first finger from Michael’s earlier attention. The lube made the second finger slip in just as easily. Alex sighed his name as his hips started rocking slowly. The friction against Michael’s own cock was wholly welcome, making him moan.

Michael twisted and pressed his fingers inside him, looking for the sweet spot he knew would earn him more noises. Alex’s mouth fell open when he finally found it and he could only grin as he swallowed the moan that tumbled from his lips. He massaged his prostate. A few soft strokes followed by a firm press.

Alex’s cock twitched and throbbed against his with every movement. As much as Michael wanted to continue like this until Alex made a mess of them both, he didn’t want to wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out slowly, giving one more teasing press to the spot.

Michael grabbed the lube bottle again, pouring more onto his fingers. He snapped the lid closed and tossed it to the side, hardly registering the sound of it falling to the floor. He carefully shifted Alex back so he could cover his cock in the lube.

Once fully coated, he pulled back to rest his forehead against Alex’s. They both panted as they met each other’s eyes. Michael wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You want this?” he asked a final time. Alex just beamed at him before pulling him back in for a searing kiss.

“Yes. I need you, Michael.”

Michael could only groan in response, claiming his lips again. He lowered Alex back to the bed and he almost immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. With his free hand, Michael guided his cock to Alex’s hole. He pressed himself against the rim, slowly rolling his hips until the tip entered him.

Michael saw stars behind his eyes as he tried to keep his movements slow. The temptation to bury himself in the warmth of Alex was overwhelming. Their moans overlapped as he pushed farther in. He nearly fell forward, needing to brace himself using the arm that had been hold Alex.

“I love you, Michael,” Alex suddenly rushed out. Michael’s eyes opened to meet Alex’s. He had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on his face. His eyes were half lidded but still completely focused on Michael. “I love you,” he repeated.

His heart soared higher than ever. He never thought he would know this kind of joy. But the man wrapped in his arms was offering it so openly and completely. No extra conditions. Just all the love he could possibly give.

A tear spilled down Michael’s face as he pushed himself completely into Alex. Their mouths fell open and Alex refused to look away from him. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, this time hearing the moans fall from his own lips.

“God, Alex…” he sighed, letting his head fall to his shoulder as he continued the steady thrusting of his hips.

Michael pressed his lips to his shoulder before sucking on the spot, massaging a mark into his skin. Alex moaned softly as his hips came up to meet Michael’s next thrust. He scratched his nails up and down Michael’s back, distracting him from his rhythm. His hips jerked forward roughly once, making them both gasp at the feeling.

He picked up his rhythm again, moving faster, starting to chase the high that comes with orgasm. Alex clenched around him, moving his own hips in time with Michael. He stopped holding back his moans, instead letting them vibrate over Alex’s skin.

He could feel Alex’s heartbeat from where their chests were pressed together. It pounded just as hard as his own. Possibly threatening to burst from how full of love it was. Alex’s moans were music to his ears. Small plea’s begging for more finally registered in his brain. And he would never deny Alex.

“I’m so close, Michael,” he whined next to his ear. Michael was on the edge too. So he pulled his head from Alex’s shoulder and kissed him again as he sped up his hips again, trying to match the racing of his heartbeat.

He had lost track of his body. He could only feel Alex wrapped around him, fitting perfectly against his skin. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass, breaking his even pattern in an effort to feel more of him.

After that he didn’t know what came over him. His hand was pressing to Alex’s chest as his hips only got rougher and more erratic. He could feel the heat rippling out from his hand. Alex cried out and arched against him, one of his own hands moving to cover Michael’s.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” he panted out.

“Michael!” He felt the spasm of his body against his own, then the warmth of the liquid running between them.

His own orgasm rushed up to him, no time to even consider pulling out. Not that he even wanted to. His hips thrust forward roughly, burying him inside of Alex as his cock emptied. A long moan accompanied each of his last thrusts until he was shaking from the overstimulation.

Michael collapsed against Alex, laying his head against his chest. Alex’s free hand pet his hair gently as their breathing started to even out. Michael dozed and Alex’s occasional snores let him know he wasn’t the only one. It couldn’t have been that long because the mess between them hadn’t dried.

He pulled his eyes open to see his hand placed firmly over Alex’s heart and his hand still covering Michael’s. He lifted his hand slowly and the bright pink, iridescent handprint seemed to ripple with Alex’s breathing.

“You could have warned me how intense it would be,” Alex said quietly, a light and content tone to his voice. Michael pushed himself up slightly to see his face. The sweet smile that always made his heart flutter was back and internally he sighed in relief.

“Had I known it was going to be I would have,” he said, lifting a finger brush over his cheek. “I’m sorry for the handprint. I didn’t—” Alex pulled him in and kissed him, stopping his apology.

“I’m so happy, Michael. About everything. I love you so much,” he said when he pulled away. Michael smiled at him and pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering just slightly when he pulled away.

“I love you, Alex.” Alex held his face gently with a fondness glittering in his eyes.

“I told you to wait until the serum had worn off,” he joked. The fog in his mind had completely vanished though he couldn’t quite remember when. He was still pouring his heart out to Alex but it was because he wanted to. He never wanted to hide anything from him. He never wanted to lie to him.

“It wore off already. I don’t feel the need to say everything I’m thinking,” he said, inching closer to Alex’s lips again. “But I still want to tell you everything. Because right now, all I can think about is you.”