#Bonus scene

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is the hazbin hotel Stargazers au going to be a fanfiction?

( I love this au it’s so cool)

No, but I started calling it an "artfic" at some point. Mostly due to the fact that there's just as much (if not more) writing involved to make this AU as there is to draw! Not to worry though. If for some reason I were to provide a new format for my #HHStargazersAU in any way, then all of my socials would be informed so as long as you follow one of them, you'll be fine! =D (And thank you! I'm glad you think so! ^v^) -Bubbly💙

(Example: A comic with so much dialogue written in.)

[boaduvet]

Wags but we also drive 💍🏎️ pt. 6/? + Bonus text

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Sixth Year Bonus Scene 12

This is completely unedited. So likely a lot of typos and the like. But I'll polish it up when I put it on AO3.

Why does Sixth Year have so many bonus scenes? Why?

This is Harry's POV of the infamous tower scene. The one where everyone was convinced I'd already done Draco's POV

Please...thoughts? This is 8,600 words.

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 4

Bonus Scene 5

Bonus Scene 6

Bonus Scene 7

Bonus Scene 8

Bonus Scene 9

Bonus Scene 10

Bonus Scene 11

**

(Read more for mobile)

If he weren’t so frantic to reach the Astronomy Tower first, Harry would have been rather vindictively pleased that his worries about Hopkins being two-faced had come true. After months of Ron and Hermione brushing his concerns off and telling him he was reading too much into things, it was nice to realize that no, he really had been right.

Only he would rather not have been right here; being wrong would have been better. Because Malfoy had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and Dumbledore was walking directly into a trap.

It wasn’t going to be fine. It wasn’t going to be fine at all.

He cursed the amount of stairs that the Astronomy Tower had, lungs burning as he gasped for air. But he finally made it to the top, stumbling through the door and into the freezing cold of the night. Dumbledore was there, facing Hopkins, who was looking out towards the landscape, his back to Harry and Dumbledore.

Harry yanked the Invisibility Cloak off, gasping for air. “Professor Dumbledore!” He had to stop, pulling in more breaths. “Don’t – he and Malfoy let Death Eaters into the castle! They’re coming here!”

They both turned to face him. Hopkins didn’t even look surprised, more exasperated, as he skimmed over Harry and then at the doorway, likely looking for Malfoy.

“You shouldn’t be here, Harry,” Dumbledore said, worried.

“I - what?” Harry blinked, disbelieving. Did Dumbledore not understand? This was a trap! “Did you not hear me?”

“I know they’re here,” Dumbledore said. “Wayne did not lure me here under false pretenses, as I’m sure you’re imagining right now.”

“But—”

“Get under your cloak, Harry,” Dumbledore urged. “Quickly now. And hide the others while you’re at it.”

“Others?” Harry barely had time to wonder who Dumbledore was referring to as “others” when shuffling sounds came from behind him. He whirled, surprised to see Neville, Ginny, and Luna there. Ginny and Luna both looked worried, but Neville seemed a little guilty.

“Sorry,” Neville said. “Harry snuck past first, and then Ginny went after him. I had to go, too.”

They didn’t even seem surprised. “You knew?” he accused.

“Of course we did,” Ginny answered bluntly. “We’re his friends.”

How did they not stop Hopkins then? Why did they just let it happen?

There was a small head shake from Luna as she looked past Harry. She seemed very worried.

“Get under the cloak,” Hopkins said. “And don’t interfere.”

Were they just supposed to let it happen? Harry had come here to get Dumbledore out of this, but now they were just going to let Malfoy waltz up here with his Death Eaters?

Ginny snatched his cloak out of his hands, huffing. She unfurled it with a snap, moving closer to Neville and Luna and giving Harry a look that very clearly meant get over here, idiot. Harry hastily stepped in closer, feeling the familiar silky feel of the cloak settle over his shoulders as they all pressed against the wall right by the door.

It was cramped. Harry had only ever hidden three people at one time under this cloak. With four it was a very tight squeeze and he and Neville both had to bend over to make sure that no ankles would show.

“You led us all the way out here instead of to Dumbledore’s office?” An unfamiliar man’s voice drifted out from the shadows beyond the door. “Why? Hoping you can push one of us off the tower?”

“I might have to bring you here, but the last thing you’ll do is mess around in Hogwarts,” Malfoy said tightly, voice flat. “He’s going to be here.”

“Do you have a copy of his schedule?” a sneering female voice asked. “Or did he tell you he was going to be on the tower at midnight?”

The first person Harry saw was Malfoy, his blond hair the lightest part of him in the night. He was flanked by two Death Eaters, apparently the two who Harry had just heard speaking. They were clad in threadbare robes. On closer inspection, they seemed to be two of the ones who had recently escaped Azkaban.

Harry knew there were others. He had seen more names appear on the map before he had bolted out of the Gryffindor dorms. He hadn’t managed to count them but knew it was more than two, and he had recognized Fenrir Greyback’s name among them.

“Is this a joke?” the unknown male snarled, pointing his wand at Hopkins. “Did you bring us here to face him?”

“Idiot.” This voice was deeper, more guttural and animalistic. “Dumbledore’s right there.”

There were six Death Eaters behind Malfoy, each of them stepping out of the doorway and into the open air. They all wore similar threadbare robes, except for Snape. What was Snape doing here?

Next to Harry, Ginny’s breathing was very loud, and he heard her swallow.

Aside from Snape and Greyback, Harry didn’t recognize any of the others present. One, a wizard with blond hair, towered over the others. There was another with a brutal face and light-colored hair. The third one was the most nondescript, fading into the background.

“Fenrir Greyback.” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet and calm. “I had not expected to see you here.”

Greyback’s teeth were sharp and yellow when he bared them. The moonlight cast harsh shadows on his face, highlighting the jagged scars. “How could I resist?”

“Alecto and Amycus Carrow…” Dumbledore’s eyes drifted to the two who were directly next to Malfoy. “Working together as always I see.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Draco,” Alecto said, grinning. “I thought you’d choke and then we could have our fun.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” Malfoy snapped. “Now, you know why you’re here.”

“What are you planning, Draco?” Snape asked.

Malfoy barely deigned to glance at Snape. “Can’t you guess? Or do I need to spell everything out to you?”

“Don’t draw your wand there,” Amycus told Dumbledore. “My hand’s itching to Disarm you or push you right off, but we’ve been told this is Draco’s job.”

Malfoy looked startled, his wand twitching. “You were told what?”

“Did you think we’d do your dirty work for you? That maybe we’d die instead?” Amycus smirked. “Oh no. The Dark Lord thought you might pull something like this. Why do you think he sent so many of us?”

As the reality of the situation set in, Malfoy looked increasingly panicked. He didn’t seem to know what to do, his plan falling down around him.

“It’s your job to kill him.” Alecto’s voice was more of a sing-song than speech. “And weren’t you clever indeed? Bringing him out here, revealing yourself… If anyone knows anything about Albus Dumbledore, it’s the soft spot he has for his students.”

“You don’t need to do this, Draco.” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle.

The panic didn’t disappear, but Malfoy was back to pointing his wand at Dumbledore. “Yes, I do! You think you can keep him safe? You think you can keep any of us safe? You’re not even aware of the Death Eaters under your nose!”

Was that Malfoy’s angle? That he was doing this to keep them all safe? Was he stupid?

Dumbledore frowned slightly. “Do you think this will keep you safe?”

“It’s not about me,” Malfoy said. “If it had just been me I’d have thrown it back in his face because I never wanted this.” There was a slight crack in his voice.

Harry didn’t realize he’d gasped until Ginny stepped on his foot. That was–

“But because he brought Wayne into this, I couldn’t say no. So, yes, I have to do this.” Malfoy’s voice did break here. “I have to.”

Hopkins? This was about Hopkins?

Harry couldn’t even look for where Hopkins was to see his own reaction to this. He tightened his grip on his wand, fully prepared to do whatever he needed to in case spells started firing.

“You’re not a killer, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Don’t let him turn you into one.”

“Your friend doesn’t seem to care, does he?” Alecto sneered. “He’s letting you do this, isn’t he?”

“He didn’t want me to either,” Malfoy snapped angrily. “He told me—” He broke off, biting his lip hard. His wand hand was shaking.

“I told you there were options.” Hopkins’s voice was a surprise. But he wasn’t where Harry had last seen him, instead standing next to Malfoy.

“How’d he get there?” the brute-faced Death Eater hissed, voicing Harry’s own confusion. “Wasn’t he just over there?”

Hopkins ignored the Death Eaters, his attention solely on Malfoy. He didn’t have a wand in hand; he didn’t even seem nervous. He was just very intent on Malfoy. “But you have to make this choice. I can’t do it for you. Neither can Dumbledore.”

“I said I would,” Malfoy insisted, but he looked sick. He didn’t even look like he could cast a simple first-year charm, let alone the more advanced magic that killing someone would require. He inhaled, shoulders shifting. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

Hopkins didn’t blink. “Then can you do it?”

Was Hopkins advocating for Malfoy killing Dumbledore or not? What was he here for?

“What are you doing, boy?” Snape demanded, his voice much louder than Hopkins’s quiet question.

Hopkins did look away from Malfoy now, albeit only briefly as he glanced at Snape and shook his head. When he spoke next, he sounded a little irritated. “Asking Draco a question and giving him a choice. You’re not in this.” And then he actually raised a finger, much like a professor hushing a student, then turned back to Malfoy. “Draco?” His voice had gentled again.

“I can,” Malfoy ground out, though his hand hadn’t stopped shaking. “I can.”

Hopkins didn’t look away from him. No one else did either, all of the Death Eaters and even Dumbledore watching Malfoy. For some odd reason, Snape waved his wand up at his throat, face pinching at whatever he was attempting to do.

The other three under the cloak with Harry either didn’t seem to be breathing or were breathing very loudly. Ginny was practically vibrating where she was pressed up against Harry.

Malfoy didn’t do anything beyond holding his wand on Dumbledore. He seemed almost paralyzed with indecision, shaking and trembling. His eyes were too wide and his skin far paler than usual.

“We’re waiting,” Greyback growled impatiently. “You know the consequences, boy.”

Malfoy’s eyes squeezed shut, and Hopkins glanced at Greyback, face impassively stony. For some reason Greyback took a step back, like he was actually scared of Hopkins.

“Damn it,” Malfoy whispered, “I can’t. I can’t.”

Something seemed to relax in Hopkins’s shoulders. “You can’t?”

Malfoy shook his head, several tears trickling down his cheeks. “I - fuck.”

“You don’t have to,” Hopkins murmured. Somehow his voice was the loudest thing there, gentle and quiet. He shifted closer to Malfoy, so close he could touch. “Draco, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

Malfoy stared at him, wide-eyed, tears wetting his cheeks. “I’m doing this for you.”

Why, Harry thought wildly. Why was Malfoy doing this for Hopkins?

“Do you trust me, Draco?” Hopkins asked, still in that gentle tone.

Malfoy blinked. “Of course I–”

“Do you trust me, Draco?” Hopkins repeated. There was an edge now, something almost desperate. “Do you trust that I can protect you?”

Greyback snarled, going to step forward. “You think you can–” His voice died from one syllable to the next. A clawed hand flew up to his throat, Greyback’s eyes widening as he mouthed silent words.

No one else spoke. Harry felt almost like he couldn’t speak or move, something holding him in place. He didn’t know what to think of what was happening here. Why Malfoy was doing all this for Hopkins; why Hopkins had even done this for Malfoy; why this was even happening.

It seemed like Malfoy hadn’t ever wanted to be a Death Eater, and that was something else throwing Harry for a loop because for as long as he knew Malfoy had been synonymous with being a Death Eater. Even with what had happened last year with the DA; that had been an anomaly. Malfoy’s behavior this year had been more predictable and normal.

Now it seemed like it had all been a ruse?

Malfoy didn’t look away from Hopkins. He seemed to be searching for something. And, eventually, he seemed to find whatever he was looking for. “I do,” he whispered. “And I don’t… I don’t want to kill anyone.” He looked at Dumbledore. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”

Hopkins’s “Good” was so quiet Harry could have missed it if it weren’t so quiet. He reached out to push Malfoy’s wrist down, taking his wand out of the equation. And then he was grinning, bright and warm and completely out of place. “Thank you, Draco.”

Why was he grinning like that when they were surrounded by bloodthirsty Death Eaters? Malfoy’s decision to not become a murderer tonight wasn’t cause for that much celebration.

Greyback’s growl was bloodcurdling, Harry’s hairs rising on end at the sound. The werewolf didn’t move, baring his teeth and continuing that low, terrifying growl.

Malfoy shoved Hopkins behind him, stepping protectively in front of him. “Don’t you dare!”

“You dare defy our Lord?” Amycus brandished his wand. “You’re dead meat.”

“I don’t think so.” Dumbledore’s pleasant tone was entirely at odds with the spell that left his wand, missing Amycus but hitting the brute-faced Death Eater and knocking him prone.

Ginny reacted faster than Harry could, whipping off the cloak and firing a jinx at Alecto that tripped her up, but Harry wasn’t far behind her, firing off his own jinx at Amycus. Neville and Luna were a little slower, their own spells joining Ginny’s.

Malfoy sounded startled. “Where did–”

Harry ducked a curse that flew over his shoulder, almost elbowing Ginny in her shoulder before he managed to sidestep.

“Wayne!” Malfoy’s cry was distraught, terrified, cutting through the chaos of the spells flying through the air.

Harry turned, then stopped on seeing Greyback with his teeth in Hopkins’s arm. Malfoy was on the stones behind them, looking up at them with an expression of utter terror and disbelief. It wasn’t an expression Harry had ever seen on him before.

Hopkins didn’t even flinch at the teeth in his arm. He seemed faintly disgusted but not in pain.

There was a pained whimper, and Greyback staggered backwards, hands covering his mouth. There were multiple teeth embedded in Hopkins’s sleeve where Greyback had bitten him, and they were shaken off a second later with a dismissive hand. There was no blood despite how Greyback had bitten down.

Hopkins narrowed his eyes at Greyback, straightening. “I suppose despite your appearance, you’re still more man than beast, Fenrir Greyback.”

Greyback spat out a mouthful of blood on the stone, looking up at Hopkins with watery eyes. “What—”

“Sometimes I have to look,” Hopkins continued in a conversational tone, “but with you? I don’t even have to try. Your name’s splashed across history: the man who took the werewolf curse and decided to spread it to everyone he could. The man who isn’t even a man anymore.”

Malfoy had managed to get to his feet, reaching out to touch Hopkins’s back. “Wayne. What are you–”

“What did he threaten you with, Draco?”

Malfoy stuttered, eyes widening. The ashen cast to his face, which had never disappeared, worsened. “He – you—” he stammered, terror in his voice.

Hopkins didn’t look away from Greyback, something too bright in his eyes. And Harry abruptly remembered that Hopkins had said he was a Legilimens. “You threatened to turn him? No…you threatened to turn him and watch him kill me?” He tilted his head. “Creative enough, I suppose. I have to give you credit for that.”

There was something so casual about how Hopkins spoke, even as shivers ran down Harry’s spine at the tone. There was nothing casual at all about how Hopkins approached Greyback, who seemed frozen in place. And then, curling his fingers in, Hopkins pressed his index and middle fingers to Greyback’s forehead. “You enjoy the taste of human flesh that much? Try your own.”

Harry blinked in confusion. That hadn’t - oh what the bloody hell.

Greyback had bitten into his own hand, tearing off a gigantic piece of skin and muscle and swallowing it. And then he took another bite.

Harry gagged, then swallowed, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Greyback!” Alecto snapped, horrified. “Snap out of it!”

Greyback did not snap out of it. There was a distinct snapping sound as Greyback bit through bone and swallowed, blood and gore and skin smeared around the skin of his mouth.

“Greyback!” Alecto cried. “Finite Incantatum!”

The spell splashed off Greyback and did nothing. Greyback ripped off what remained of his arm with his free hand, blood spraying like a water fountain.

A bloody water fountain, Harry thought hysterically. What the bloody hell was going on?

“You bastard!” Alecto whirled on Hopkins. “What did you do? Take it off! Now!” 

A purple-colored spell left her wand, unerringly aimed at Hopkins. He didn’t move, seeming more bored than anything else as he watched the beam of light approach before he raised an eyebrow and the spell suddenly reversed. Alecto quickly sidestepped it, eyes wide as she stared at him.

A squelching sound had Harry looking back at Greyback, only to see Greyback digging through his own stomach. “He isn’t–” He couldn’t voice it, nausea roiling his stomach.

He was. Greyback pulled out what looked like a roundish mass and bit into it like it was an apple. It made a very unpleasant squishing sound as this happened.

“Oh my God,” Ginny moaned. She was looking very green, her hand over her mouth. To her side, Neville seemed just as green and Luna wasn’t even looking, eyes squeezed shut. “Michael–”

Michael?

Hopkins’s eyes glowed briefly, a blinding white, before the light faded back to the normal brown. He didn’t seem even remotely surprised at what was happening before him.

The rest of what was likely Greyback’s stomach was stuffed into his mouth, and then he was digging into his own chest, those deadly claws piercing through skin and muscle and bone, ripping apart his own rib cage with loud cracks.

Another curse was cast, this one by the nondescript Death Eater, but it was also reversed and hit the caster in the stomach, drawing out a pained wheeze and a curse from the brute-faced Death Eater. No one had raised a wand to block it; Hopkins hadn’t even turned around.

“Stop this.” Dumbledore sounded horrified and disgusted.

Hopkins said nothing, not looking away from Greyback as the werewolf finally pulled out a beating heart. Implausibly, it still pulsed with life in his grasp. Until Greyback stuffed all of it into his mouth. The last of it had just disappeared behind bloody gums and teeth when Greyback finally stilled, one hand still at his mouth.

“I did,” Hopkins said as Greyback slowly slumped to the bloody stones, lifeless. “The lack of teeth made it a little more difficult than expected.”

Harry didn’t know who started speaking, but he did hear the “Avada—” before it abruptly cut off with a hand wave from Hopkins.

“Enough. I’m not here for you.” For some reason, Hopkins looked at Amycus, who paled dramatically. Well, if Harry were him, he would also be reconsidering all his life choices.

Malfoy certainly looked like he was reevaluating everything he’d known of Hopkins. It was crystal clear he hadn’t known about Hopkins’s little tendency towards Dark magic.

“I’m sorry.” Hopkins actually sounded like he meant it. He walked through the blood on the ground, disregarding the pieces of bone and half-eaten muscle and skin on the stone. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Malfoy’s voice was choked. “That you – you’re a Dark Lord?”

“Never that,” Hopkins denied despite all evidence to the contrary. He even looked down at Greyback’s body. “No. I told you the truth. I want him dead. And I intend on seeing that through. But first…would you give me your arm?”

Malfoy took a step back and even turned to the side to hide his left arm.

Hopkins actually looked pained. “I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “I never will. Do you remember what I told you before?”

Malfoy didn’t respond, breathing shaky.

When it became clear Malfoy wouldn’t answer, Hopkins continued, “I won’t judge you.”

For some reason, this had Ginny, Luna, and Neville drawing in sharp breaths.

Malfoy didn’t respond, though something flickered over his face. He didn’t otherwise move, staring at Hopkins. 

Harry felt just as paralyzed as Malfoy. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn’t. No one else moved either, all of them watching the two. Even the Death Eaters seemed motionless.

But then, slowly, Malfoy did extend his left arm towards Hopkins. It was shaking.

Hopkins reached out, pulling back the sleeve and baring the Dark Mark. It was a dark black against Malfoy’s white skin. “This might sting a little.”

Compared to what? Eating his own heart?

Except instead of anything else that he could have done, Hopkins ran his hand down over Malfoy’s arm and when he lifted it the skin was smooth and utterly bare of any marks. Hopkins’s hand was curled, something sparking in his grasp like he was holding something.

Hopkins was smiling slightly, soft and gentle and warm. He didn’t look away from Malfoy. “You never wanted it?” He huffed. “I wanted to take it off the moment I saw it, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“You were there?” Malfoy blurted out, eyes wide. “I - I heard you!”

“I was,” Hopkins admitted. “I was going to kill Voldemort then but…” He let Malfoy’s hand go, stepping back and opening his own hand to reveal the sparking thing he had been holding in his hand.

None of this made any sense. Hopkins wanted to kill Voldemort? Well, he could get in line with everyone else, but why did he seem so confident about it?

Harry hesitated, then looked down at Greyback’s corpse. Fine, he could understand why Hopkins would be so confident with that.

Hopkins made an odd gesture like plucking a string, one finger brushing through the writhing shape of something he had in his hand. A beat later, five cracks resonated through the air, and there were five thuds as more bodies hit the floor. One had a familiar silver arm.

One of the figures promptly disappeared a moment later, leaving behind only four. And one…

One was Voldemort. Only he looked different, scarred and bleeding from countless oozing scars that were inscribed into his skin. On closer look, it was countless Dark Marks.

A large snake was curled up on the stones next to him, hissing swears and curses at having been unceremoniously teleported.

Voldemort stared up at Hopkins, something on his face that Harry had never seen before. There was anger, but there was also… Voldemort was afraid.

“Michael.” Voldemort slowly stood, drawing himself to his full height, black robes billowing around him. “Or should I say Wayne Hopkins? Yes,” he hissed, “I found out who you really are. You are not half as clever as you think you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Hopkins said, eyes moving up from Nagini towards Voldemort. “I’ll be honest. I’ve never taken care of the same person twice.”

“And you won’t,” Voldemort stated, red eyes narrowed in on Hopkins. “You could join me, you know. With your abilities, you and I…we could be great. And your friends would be safe.”

There was a low laugh from Hopkins. It sounded vaguely incredulous. “You are full of yourself, aren’t you? What do you think you can offer me, child?”

Child? Child?

“You haven’t even broken your first century,” Hopkins continued speaking, like he wasn’t talking down to a Dark Lord.

“Bold words from a boy not even out of Hogwarts.”

“I think you more than anyone should be able to understand that one’s physical vessel doesn’t mean anything.” Hopkins gave a slow smile, the sight of it sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “Tell me…have you even cast a spell since you came back?”

Voldemort’s hand flexed around the grip of his wand. “You know not of what you speak!”

“Don’t I?” Hopkins’s tone was idle, much like he was delivering a lecture. “It’s an interesting piece of magic. Do they even know what you did? That the brand you put on their skin feeds on their magic? One doesn’t make much of a difference, but with the amount you have on your skin? I’d be surprised if you even have enough for a simple Lumos.”

“My Lord?” Pettigrew’s voice wavered. “What does he speak of?”

“Nothing, Pettigrew,” Voldemort snapped, red eyes fixed on Hopkins. “You are not as all-powerful as you would pretend to be. And you cannot kill me; no one can.”

“Your Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said quietly, “how many did you make, Tom? Seven?”

That was the issue. Without the Horcruxes being gone, it didn’t matter what Hopkins could do. It seemed like he had been the one responsible for killing Voldemort last time, but it clearly hadn’t stuck because of the Horcruxes.

Hopkins raised his eyebrows but didn’t otherwise seem surprised. “Is that what they’re called? Horcrux?”

It was something about how he said it… “You don’t seem surprised,” Harry slowly said. It was almost as if Hopkins had run into them himself.

“Not seven,” Hopkins continued, drawing the words out, “but eight. Eight soul echoes – eight of these Horcruxes. You made another. You—” He snapped his mouth shut, an emotion crossing his face that looked very much like fury, though it was far colder than anything Harry had ever seen. “Do you realize what you did to yourself? Echo after echo after echo, until what you possess isn’t even your soul anymore but the smallest echo of what you once held. And then you have the audacity to do it again?”

“I have transcended human limits!” Voldemort declared. “I have gone where no one dared to tread, and even you cannot stop me!”

“You transcended nothing,” Hopkins said flatly. “Even demons wouldn’t dare to do what you’ve done, Tom, and demons dare a great deal.”

Demons? None of this was making any sense.

“You defiled my Father’s gift,” Hopkins continued, “and for that…” He looked away from Voldemort, attention shifting to Nagini; he knelt down on the stones with one knee. “Come here.” His tone was gentle, entirely different from how he had been speaking to Voldemort. There were some sharp gasps from the others, though this didn’t seem any more unusual than anything else Hopkins had done so far; it was perhaps the most normal action of the night. “You’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Nagini!” Voldemort made a gesture but then seemed to be frozen.

Nagini, that giant snake that had attacked and nearly killed Mr. Weasley, slithered up to Hopkins and picked up her head until she was nose-to-nose with him, her tongue flicking out. She said nothing and neither did Hopkins, but he did touch her head. His lips moved, though Harry heard nothing, and then the hand at her head sunk in.

Harry flinched back, something in him aching at the sight. Nagini was writhing but Hopkins somehow had her held fast. Her entire body flickered with light that splintered over her scales like lightning. Her hissing sounded like screaming even though it wasn’t anything like a human’s screams.

Malfoy was frozen behind Hopkins, watching everything with wide eyes. He seemed just as confused as Harry about the entire affair. Glancing at Hopkins’s other three friends showed they weren’t confused but they were wary.

As suddenly as the light had started, it disappeared, and Hopkins’s hand reemerged with something dark crackling between his fingers. Nagini collapsed to the floor, the only sign of life the heaving breaths she was pulling in and the occasional flickering of her tongue.

Hopkins looked up at Voldemort, holding the thing in his hand. “One,” he said calmly, and then his hand flared with white light. The crackling dark energy disappeared with something like a faint scream of rage and agony that sounded all too familiar. Hopkins brushed his hand off on his robes, then slowly stood. “Seven more, you said?” he said to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was silent, his expression blank. He seemed at an utter loss.

“You cannot find them,” Voldemort said desperately. “You cannot!”

“I’ll grant you that it took me a while,” Hopkins said dryly. “But can’t?” He splayed his hand open, palm facing up, and an old book suddenly appeared. He threw it up into the air, stating, “Two.” The book disappeared a moment later into thin air. Hopkins flicked his fingers like throwing a coin into a fountain, and a small band flew through the air, glistening faintly before it disappeared like the book had. “Three.” He held out a clenched hand, only to release it and for a golden locket with a sparkling green S on it to slip out, twirling on a chain. “Four.” He pulled the locket back up into his hand, and when he next opened his hand a small golden cup with a badger on it was sitting in the palm of his hand. “Five.” The cup disappeared into his hand once more and when he turned his hand around a silver crown swung around a finger once before also vanishing. “Six.” And then, inexplicably, he pointed to Harry. “Seven.”

What? Why was he pointing at Harry–

“And eight.” Hopkins pointed at Voldemort, lips curling. “Eight soul echoes – eight Horcruxes as you like to name them. You’ve nothing left, Tom.”

“You lie,” Voldemort hissed, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “I did nothing to Potter!”

Beyond attempting to kill Harry multiple times… Was Hopkins insinuating Harry had been a Horcrux? Why else would he be pointing to Harry after just having pulled out a variety of different objects that he was claiming had belonged to Voldemort?

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, but he couldn’t pick up anything on his face. Dumbledore didn’t look at him; the Headmaster was looking at Voldemort and Hopkins.

“Really?” Hopkins sounded a little surprised. “I suppose it happened when your first attempt at killing him went so terribly awry.”

“Let me go,” Voldemort said, taking a step back as Hopkins went to move closer. “Let me go, and I will share my knowledge with you!”

“Lucifer himself couldn’t tempt me,” Hopkins said quietly. “What makes you think you could, boy?”

There was something so wrong about seeing Wayne Hopkins mock and call Voldemort a boy and somehow sincerely mean it. Somehow Hopkins even made it work, injecting the appropriate amount of scorn and derision.

“You fear death so much?” Hopkins continued, each word clearly enunciated. He snapped his fingers, the sound echoing through the space. “Then meet him.”

Hopkins’s friends seemed as confused as everyone else was. They exchanged glances, then looked back at Hopkins. Malfoy hadn’t moved from his position beyond taking a few steps away from Nagini.

There was otherwise no sound beyond the sound of the wind and the rustling of fabric.

Something should happen, right? There was supposed to be something–

A tall, skeletal-like being walked into being next to Hopkins, tapping a cane against the stones. His skin was white, paper thin, drawn tight over high cheekbones; his black hair was neatly combed back and his suit finely pressed. He looked like someone about to go to a funeral.

The man…the being - because he did not seem human no matter how much he looked like one - drew in a long breath, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Hopkins. “Hello, Michael.”

It was that name again. The one Ginny had used and then Voldemort and now this one. Was Hopkins not Hopkins? Was he someone else?

Hopkins - Michael dropped his hand. He actually looked a little surprised, even though he had been the one to dramatically snap his fingers to begin with. “You’re here.”

“You did call, didn’t you?” The being said in a very mild tone that had shivers running down Harry’s spine. It was the type of tone that bode ill. “A call for judgment no less… You haven’t wielded your sword thus in years, Michael. Of course I was a little curious.” His smile was amused.

Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what exactly he was going to say, to ask, but Ginny elbowed him, hissing  “Don’t. Say. A word.”

On taking in the sight once more, Harry closed his mouth. He could probably ask questions later if they all made it out of this.

“Who are you?” Voldemort demanded, clearly under no such compunctions to remain silent. “What are you?”

“Two entirely different questions, I think,” the being said, fixing dark eyes on Voldemort. Harry was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t the one currently being scrutinized like a bug under a magnifying glass. “But for you, Tom Marvolo Riddle? Michael kindly did you the liberty of making the appointment you’ve missed several times.”

The being glanced at Michael. “I don’t typically make house calls, but for you… Yes, I see the judgment is apt. Lack of practice hasn’t dulled your senses, Michael.”

“I’ve had some practice recently,” Michael said with a faint, chilly smile. “My first try didn’t go quite so well.” He gestured towards Voldemort, his hand gesture encompassing all of him.

“Well, you can’t always get it right immediately.” That cane tapped against the ground once, the sound echoing. “Come, Tom. Your time is up.”

Voldemort shook his head, eyes wild. “It isn’t—” And suddenly the being was next to Voldemort, touching his shoulder and then the being was gone and Voldemort hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Pettigrew let out a cry of dismay. “My Lord!” He ran to Voldemort’s side, fluttering around anxiously until he finally touched him, shaking him lightly.

If Harry were in his position, he probably also wouldn’t have wanted to touch Voldemort so casually like that.

“Well?” Alecto demanded. “What happened?”

Pettigrew looked up, face drawn. “He’s dead. The Dark Lord is dead!” He sounded horrified.

He was dead? Just like that? A hand on the shoulder and then…nothing? How did that even work?

“Dead as he was before?” the enormous blond Death Eater asked. “Narcissa thought he was dead as well if you recall.”

“He has no more Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said with finality. “If what…Wayne here showed was true, then Voldemort has nothing tying him to this world.”

“He’s dead.” Hopkins - Michael’s voice was flat, forbidding any argument. He tilted his head, eyes scanning all the present Death Eaters. “For good this time. Now…the rest of you…”

There was a small shuffle, Luna stepping forward. “Michael…”

Michael did stop, eyes flicking from the Death Eaters to Luna, Ginny, and Neville. He even looked briefly at Harry. He did not look back at Malfoy, but Malfoy hadn’t looked away from Michael, eyes fixed on his back.

Finally, Michael let out a small breath that sounded like a sigh, something like regret flickering over his face. “I’ll let them take care of you.” He gestured towards Dumbledore and Snape. “Your master is dead, so I’d put your wands down.”

“You think he’s dead?” Amycus shouted. “You think the Dark Lord – the greatest wizard of our time – is dead? He died once before! And we refused to bow! We refused to forsake him! Do you think you scare us?”

Why were some Death Eaters without any sense of self-preservation? They had just seen unimaginable magic right in front of them, their master dead, and now they were going to continue to provoke the being responsible?

Harry glanced at Pettigrew, who was still kneeling over Voldemort. He tightened his fingers around his wand, breathing in and out slowly.

“I thought you would be more intelligent than this, yes,” Michael said off to the side. His tone was ice cold, anger licking at the edges of his words. “Especially you, Amycus.”

“He will come back!” Amycus proclaimed. “And you will not be the one to stop us!”

The silence seemed very pointed. Harry didn’t look away from Pettigrew.

“Crucio!” Alecto cried. 

Oh, fine. There were a few Disarming spells from his friends, but Harry went straight for the ropes, wrapping them around Pettigrew before the rat could even think of running away. He was not going to let this chance slip away from him another time.

He lunged forwards, ducking under the rapid spell fire that had started up again, and then spun towards the enormous blond Death Eater to shoot a hex his way. He almost tripped over another Death Eater who had ended up on the floor, then almost slipped on a puddle of blood and gore.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Wayne!”

Harry did slip this time, the ground shaking beneath his feet, and he fell over before he could catch his balance. There were loud crashing sounds, and there was something too bright that hurt his eyes. He ducked his head to hide behind his arms, something else telling him to hide.

Something screeched, rang, echoed, the ground shaking again. The stones vibrated underneath him, and it even felt like his bones were shaking. There was a brief moment of silence, and then a shorter cacophony of sound before it cut off again.

When the silence lasted a little longer this time, Harry chanced looking up, relieved when his eyes didn’t hurt. But he did see Michael on the edge of the Tower, broken stones scattered around him. His expression was stony but somehow Harry still had the impression that he was absolutely furious.

“Your colleagues in the Ministry tried that spell once before; they suffered for it.” His hand swept to the side like he was brushing aside a curtain. Those Death Eaters who were still standing suddenly found themselves knocked to the walls with heavy thuds. And then suddenly Michael was no longer standing there but instead in front of Amycus, one hand at his throat and bodily lifting the man a foot in the air. “What did I say before?” His tone was idle, like he was having a conversation about the weather. “That you were already dead?”

“You don’t have to kill him!” Malfoy cried. He swallowed, face whiter than usual. “Wa - Michael.” 

Michael didn’t let a purpling, choking Amycus go. “He tried to kill you.”

“But you don’t have to kill him,” Malfoy said tentatively. Slowly, hesitantly, he started moving forward.

“Draco,” Snape hissed in warning.

Malfoy waved him off, continuing to approach Michael until he was standing right next to him. “You said that to me. I…I don’t really know who you are, but I know you said that.”

There was a surprised shriek from Alecto as her wand suddenly shattered in her hand.

Michael didn’t move aside from turning his head to look at Malfoy. He said nothing and neither did Malfoy. The two of them just stared at each other. Malfoy looked absolutely terrified still but was holding his ground.

Eventually, Michael’s mouth twisted, something pained flickering over his face. His grip on Amycus’s throat loosened, the Death Eater falling to the ground in a gasping heap. There was gagging, Amycus desperately trying to catch his breath.

“I find,” Michael said, looking between each of the Death Eaters, “that humans can sometimes be all too forgiving.” He met his friends’ eyes. “I’m afraid I have only so much to give. And you?” He lifted a hand, fingers curling in.  At the same time, Amycus rose from the ground like a grisly marionette. “Judgment doesn’t always require death.”

Harry didn’t even have time to wonder what Michael meant when Michael laid a hand over Amycus’s Dark Mark and his right sunk into Amycus’s chest.

There was no blood. There was no - there was no blood. It was just - it didn’t even seem like Michael had punctured a hole into Amycus’s chest; it was more like his arm had merged with Amycus like the world’s worst roadside circus show.

Amycus wasn’t screaming, but it seemed like that was more because he was in too much pain to vocalize than because it was painless. His bulging eyes and the protruding veins on his neck said it all.

It was a few seconds before Michael pulled his hand out, something odd crackling in it that was eviscerated. Simultaneously, some of the other Death Eaters shrieked while a few just collapsed to their knees, clutching at their chests while light flashed over their skin like lightning. Snape dropped his wand, digging his fingers into his chest but not saying a word.

Amycus collapsed to the stone floor in an ungainly heap, gasping and clutching at his own chest. It was still whole, with no sign that Michael had a hand in there. Harry would have said it was impossible if not for what he had just seen.

”Thank you.” Malfoy’s voice was barely discernible among the pained whimpers of the Death Eaters.

Michael turned towards him, a faint smile briefly crossing his face. It seemed pained. “The only thing I didn’t tell you was my name. You do know me, Draco.”

Malfoy didn’t look away from Michael. “But a name hides a past and you…you’re not human, are you?”

There was a low mutter from one of the few Death Eaters still standing, followed by a cry of dismay. “It’s - it’s not working! Expelliarmus!”

Harry jerked to counter, only to pause on noticing that there was no response from the man’s wand.

“Bombarda! Crucio! Work, damn it!” This was another one, his own wand similarly unresponsive.

Something was wrong. Harry glanced at Snape, seeing him stare at his own wand in blatant horror.

Something was wrong and Harry didn’t quite know what.

Michael seemed utterly unconcerned about it. Of course. He was the one responsible for it, wasn’t he? ”I’m leaving the Death Eaters to you, Albus.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Thank you. They will be appropriately taken care of.” His eyes fell on one who had been vainly trying to cast Lumos.

Michael nodded, turning around and walking towards his friends. 

Some of the awful pressure that had settled on Harry’s shoulders lifted and he found he could breathe more easily. He dropped his eyes to where Pettigrew lay bound in ropes on the stone floor. He seemed on the verge of passing out, no blood in his face.

This was the one good thing to come from this night, Harry thought. This and Voldemort’s death. He wouldn’t ever have to go back to the Dursleys.

”They wouldn’t tell us who they were.” Amycus’s voice was hoarse.

A slow chill traveled down Harry’s spine. He lifted his head, eyes immediately landing on Michael where he had frozen.

”We said we’d let them go if they told us who you were, but they both said no.” Amycus didn’t seem to realize what exactly he was courting. Or maybe he did and didn’t care.

Harry saw a flicker of white light in Michael’s eyes. Something too bright and almost painful to look at it before it was gone. There was no discernible emotion on his face. Behind Michael, Malfoy blanched.

”I wanted to play,” Amycus continued, a disgusting leer on his face. “Your mother especially… She wasn’t bad looking for a filthy Muggle-lover. I hear things about those women - would have been nice to know if they were true.”

”Please stop talking,” Luna begged, voicing Harry’s thoughts. She was also staring at Michael, eyes wide and something like terror beginning to form.  It was the first time Harry had seen that emotion on her face tonight. “Please.”

Amycus didn’t look away from Michael’s terrifyingly impassive visage. “Your father died too quick—” His voice cut off in a strangled gurgle, his eyes bulging. He scrabbled at his throat, making an awful gasping noise.

”You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?” Michael’s voice was blank and all the more horrifying for how there were faint flickers of silvery, too-bright light in his eyes. Something about his body seemed almost shimmery, his skin almost glowing. “I would have let you go. I would have let you live.”

”You - you won’t.” Amycus sounded like he was choking, grasping at his throat. “Not with the Malfoy boy telling you no.”

Harry looked at Malfoy, at how he was so white so as to look ill. Even still, he looked dark next to the shimmering aura around Michael. 

He didn’t know how Malfoy could move, but Malfoy did, touching Michael’s arm. He didn’t seem at all affected by the terrible pressure weighing down on Harry’s shoulders - on the desire to make himself as small as possible.

”I won’t stop you,” Malfoy said, eyes on Amycus.

Harry didn’t blink but suddenly Michael was no longer where he had been before. No, he was before Amycus, one hand diving into Amycus’s chest and then emerging with a white something that almost seemed to be screaming. It looked vaguely humanoid shape but fizzled at the edges, like it had trouble keeping its shape.

The ethereal glow of Michael’s body had strengthened, along with the silvery sheen to his eyes, though the worst of the glow was centered on what he was holding. At his feet, Amycus looked to be dead.

”Did you never think about why your master told you to send someone in your place?” Michael asked, seeming to be speaking to the thing he was holding. His voice was emotionless yet Harry had the impression he was utterly furious. “Why he told you to do it quickly and without giving them time to call someone? Without giving you time to alert me?”

There was something that hurt Harry’s ears, and he could see the others flinching back. Snape shook his head, though Neville was full on covering his ears with a pained wince.

”I’d throw you into Hell,” Michael continued, almost nonsensically except at this point nothing seemed impossible for him, “but there’s no Hell here for me to reach. So while that option isn’t available…I did pick some tricks up from my brother.” His other hand sunk into what looked like the middle of the thing he was holding, and Harry’s ears rung with something that was almost on the edge of his hearing. “You might know him as Lucifer.”

Lucifer? Harry was inundated with images of red-skinned devils with horns, beaky noses, mustaches, fangs, and slitted eyes. Lucifer the devil?

At this point it was all just going to happen.

There was a shriek that pierced through Harry’s head, and the ground shook beneath his feet. He wobbled, one hand covering an ear while the other kept a firm grip of his wand.

Harry couldn’t hear anything else over the sounds of that agonized shrieking, but he saw Luna lunge forward to clutch Michael into a hug from behind,  seeming uncaring of how brightly he was glowing and what he was doing to whatever he was holding.

There was only the slightest hint of emotion now on Michael’s face, something Harry couldn’t entirely interpret but seemed hard.

Then another moment passed, and the emotionless mask broke to something else, Michael’s eyes closing and his mouth twisting. The shrieking abated slightly.

Luna still held onto Michael, though Harry had trouble seeing her with the light around them.

Suddenly the terrible pressure was gone and whatever Michael was holding just floated there, suspended in midair. It looked almost fractured, fading in and out like a bad TV connection, and it coalesced into something more like a ball than the humanoid shape from earlier.

Michael had curled in on himself, one hand pressed to his mouth and his eyes still tightly shut. “Let - let go.” His voice was strangled, nothing like the blank tone from earlier, “or I’m going to hurt you.”

If Luna said anything, Harry couldn’t hear it, but he did see Malfoy reaching out to touch Michael’s shoulder and actually stepping closer.

It was a moment before Michael gave a breathless laugh, one that sounded more genuine that the last one he’d given to Voldemort. “I’m not sure those lucky potions were designed with angels in mind.”

Angels?

A look back at Michael’s friends showed no surprise on their faces. Naturally.

The terrible glow around Michael had faded with the pressure, and it was now only the glow from the crackling, fractured thing before him. Harry could see that Luna was no longer holding onto him as tightly.

“It worked tonight, didn’t it?” Luna said, presumably in response to Michael’s comment on lucky potions.

Michael said nothing else in response, looking down at the glowing ball. His expression was complicated. For an instant that blank look was back again before it shifted to weariness. He pulled away from Luna, picking up the glowing ball and then just shoving it into Amycus’s chest. (That had been Amycus?!)

Crackling light burst through Amycus’s chest at the same time as he dragged in a heaving breath and let it out in a pained moan that had Harry’s chest aching in sympathy for an instant before he reminded himself of what Amycus had been responsible for.

(Guiltily, Harry didn’t know if he would have done any different if he’d been in Michael’s position.)

“I’m leaving,” Michael said, looking at some point off in the distance over the grounds, “before someone else decides they’d like to test their luck.”

“You’re leaving?” Malfoy sounded panicked. He looked almost like he wanted to reach out and take hold of Michael’s arm.

Michael’s answering smile looked ridiculously normal for someone who had just single-handedly taken care of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and also tortured Amycus. “Just for now. And you..if you want something…just call my name. I’m going to go somewhere that’s not Pluto.”

Pluto? Harry took a moment of thinking of the animated dog before Michael disappeared and Harry thought of the other Pluto that had actually disappeared for a little earlier this year. ….At this point why was he even surprised that Michael was talking about Pluto the planet? Was it hyperbole? Could he actually Apparate to Pluto? If he was an angel as he claimed, that would be possible, right?

…Did angels even Apparate?

Harry pressed his fingers to his eyes, feeling tension press in at his forehead. This night hadn’t gone at all as he expected, in both good and bad ways.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked Luna. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” Luna said it with absolute faith and in complete contradiction of everything they’d seen earlier tonight.

Harry did not look at Greyback’s corpse.

“Did the potion tell you that?” Neville asked.

“No.” Luna turned then, looking at Malfoy, who was staring at the space where Michael had been only moments ago. “How are you?”

Malfoy startled, head jerking up. He seemed only half aware of things, a little dazed. He looked between Ginny, Neville, and Luna, glanced at Harry, looked at Dumbledore and Snape, and then looked between all the Death Eaters that were in various states of incapacitation on the ground. “...Yes,” he said eventually, nonsensically.

Luna frowned, though Dumbledore clearing his throat stalled her from saying anything else. “A change in locations is in order, I believe. As is contacting the Ministry so they can take everyone off our hands.” He frowned down at Nagini, who hadn’t said a word or even moved since Michael had destroyed the Horcrux in her. She seemed to be unconscious.

Snape seemed supremely uncomfortable, clenching and unclenching his hands before finally crossing his arms over his chest.

Well, everyone was uncomfortable. A change in locations would be good. Along with answers. Answers would also be nice.

Ron and Hermione weren’t going to believe him.

[nocturnalazure]

@nekrophoria I remember when you used those lines for Mel and Simon. <3 I hope you'll forgive me for recycling them!

[naavispider]

💙💞Survivor: bonus scene💞💙

Read Survivor on AO3, my cop au where Quaritch is a high ranking police officer who finally works out the street kid he's had multiple run-ins with is his son.

For everyone who wanted a scene from Quaritch's point of view! Here's the moment he worked out Spider is his ✨ (I changed it from the main story so that Spider told the precinct his full name the last time he was arrested, instead of telling the hospital the day Q found him. It's not a huge change, just run with it).

It was grey, blustery Thursday morning in downtown St Mark’s, the wind whipping against the windscreen of the PD’s Ford Explorer as Miles Quaritch patrolled down another empty street. At 6am, no one was out yet. The world was quiet apart from himself and his partner sitting in the passenger seat. 

“She was a beauty,” Lyle Wainfleet reminisced, vastly overestimating how much Miles actually cared. “That was the one that got away, I’m telling you.”

“Is that so?”

“I should message her again.”

Quaritch rolled his eyes without looking at his partner. He’d known Lyle for a long time and there was no one more reliable he’d rather be on shift with. However, their differing attitudes towards Lyle’s hunt for a woman was sometimes a point of contention between them. “Should you now?”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“It seems to me she made her feelings pretty clear.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today? Come on, Colonel, I’m trying not to get my heart broken, here!” Miles shrugged, surveying the bleak street ahead of them. It had been an uneventful night shift, which is exactly the kind that Miles should have hoped for. However, he couldn’t deny that a huge part of him still missed the action and danger of the marines. Rain had just started to spit from the overcast sky, forcing him to turn on the wipers. This part of town was known for its drug involvement, most of which Miles himself had uncovered. Now though, the street was empty, not a single sign of life in the dawn light. There was nothing amiss here.

“You wanna get a coffee?” Lyle’s bored voice drifted over from the passenger seat. He’d already switched off for the shift. 

Miles sighed, thinking they may as well, but then he saw it. A shapeless lump on the floor in one of the archways that lined the shopfronts. “Hold up,” he said. “Let’s deal with this first.”

Unfortunately, the homeless were nothing new to the pair. They had time to check one more over. Miles pulled the car over to the curb, gently bringing it to a stop a few feet away from the sleeping figure. Now that they were closer, the Colonel could make out that it was someone small, maybe young, but their face was hidden in the concrete. Miles frowned as he realised that the person wasn’t huddled up in a blanket or sleeping bag like usual, but instead they were lying almost completely exposed to the wind and the cold, limp and seemingly lifeless. 

“Oh, shit,” Lyle articulated as he too clocked that this could be something serious. 

Without wasting time, Miles opened the door and cautiously approached where the person lay. “Hello, there,” he called loudly, as per protocol. “Are you alright?”

As he knew there wouldn’t be, there came no response. Lyle joined him and they stepped closer, Miles’s heart thudding at the expectation of finding a body. Since joining the police force, it had happened once before to Miles. It was nothing like the death he’d seen in the warzone, but it was almost… sadder. These people had nobody with them, no one waiting for them at home and possibly no one that would miss them when they went. At least there was honour in dying in combat. 

He grasped the young person’s upper arm and shook firmly. “Hello? This is the police, do you need help?” In doing so, he finally caught sight of the person’s face. It was a teenager - and one he recognised at that. The boy had a young face, dirty blonde curls that covered most of his head and a peaceful expression that remained unresponsive. He remembered the teen from a couple of run-ins they’d had over the past few months. Once for underage drinking and then again for stealing. He was a runaway foster kid, barely sixteen if he remembered correctly. “Shit,” he murmured, a pang of something anxious striking his insides at the thought that he’d had the chance to help this boy and he might now be dead. “We know this kid. Wake up!” He pulled the boy by his arm and the teenager rolled over limply, completely out of it. His lips were blue and there was dried vomit on the side of his face. Ignoring the smell, Miles put his ear to the boy’s mouth, checking for breathing. He couldn’t see or hear anything for several torturous seconds. Lyle was already radioing for an ambulance. 

Suddenly, a gurgled cough escaped the boy’s lips. “There, we go,” Miles murmured, trying to rub the kid’s back as he racked his brains for the alias the kid had given them. “Can you wake up, kid? It’s the police, we’re gonna get you some help.”

He knew the boy couldn’t hear him, but he kept speaking anyway. Once he was confident the kid was taking semi-regular breaths, he cast around the scene for the drugs packet he knew he’d find somewhere. “Here,” he said, handing the tiny bag to Lyle, who got the drugs kit out. A few seconds later, they had their answer. “Cocaine,” Lyle confirmed. “Isn’t this the kid we picked up a while back for stealing?”

“That’s the one.” The boy was cold to the touch. “What’s the ETA?”

“Four minutes,” Lyle responded. “There’s a camera up there. That could be interesting,” he nodded towards the CCTV placed not too far away. It was pointing in their direction and would have covered the boy while he slept. 

Miles nodded, pulling the boy’s thin blanket over his frame while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. “Kid, can you wake up? You’re in a bit of a rough state.” He raised his voice as if he was speaking to someone who was deaf. “Kid? Can you hear me? Try and wake up.”

He could tell he’d broken through by the wince in the boy’s features, his body seeming to spasm for a moment before his chest heaved and vomit spluttered from his mouth.

“Easy, tiger…” He rubbed the kid’s shoulders, making sure he was on his side. “At least he’s alive,” he glanced up at Lyle. 

Eventually, the ambulance arrived with flashing lights. It couldn’t have come soon enough, as far as Miles was concerned. Every second felt like the kid was slipping further away from them. “What’s happening, then?” a kind woman with brown hair asked as she and another paramedic hurried over, bags over their shoulders. 

“Sixteen year old boy, found unresponsive. Cocaine on his person.”

“Okay,” the paramedic nodded her understanding. “My name’s Janine, this is Sarah. We’ll get him on board as soon as we can. Do you have a name?”

“Spider.” It came to Miles like a flash of lightning, the strange nickname finally illuminated in his brain. “We’ve met before.”

“Spider?” Janine asked, taking Miles’s place at Spider’s side. “Can you hear me? We’re here to help you. I’m just going to put this Pulse Ox on your finger…”

Miles stepped back to allow the medics to assess Spider. He was a marine, he was used to chaos and stressful situations, normally the picture of calm as he navigated the safest and most efficient way back to safety. But he had to admit this one had thrown him. He was glad that someone else was here to take charge because his concern for Spider was growing by the minute. It somehow felt like his fault the boy had ended up here, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. As he watched them work, it struck him that he felt responsible. 

Which was ridiculous, of course. This wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. He’d done his job the previous times they’d met. He’d tried to help the kid as much as he could. But something deep inside was nagging at him. It wasn’t enough. 

He didn’t like it. He looked at Lyle, hoping for one of his usual unfunny quips to take his mind off the feeling. His partner was speaking to the other medic and it was all Miles could do to help Janine heave Spider off the cold concrete. 

“Get off me!” Spider suddenly burst out, surprising everyone. His eyes were still closed, but at least he was gaining consciousness. 

“Spider? I’m trying to help you,” Janine continued. “You’re okay… Let’s get you into the ambulance. I need you to stand up. I’ll help you.” She glanced at Miles for support, and he quickly pulled one of Spider’s arms over his own shoulder in tandem with Janine. The boy was extremely weak, relying totally on their support. It would have been easier if they’d just left him sleeping, because like this Spider could lash out at them in his disorientation. Together, they heaved him onto the ambulance and the gurney. He groaned and angry tears began to slip from under his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” he slurred as he curled up on the bed. 

“He’ll be alright,” Janine said, slightly out of breath as she turned to Miles. “He’s dehydrated and has a high blood pressure, but I’m more worried about his temperature. He should be frozen, but he’s burning up. He might have taken something else.”

Miles took this in, thinking what the procedure was for this kind of thing. This was a minor with no known relatives, so he knew they’d have to accompany him to the hospital. At least until they could contact CPS. 

“Okay, we’ll meet you at the ER. You going to St Mark’s?”

She nodded, holding the back of the ambulance open for Miles to exit. “We’ll do our best to hold him until you guys get there, my guess is that you’ve got a few hours at least until he’s lucid.”

Miles thanked her and pressed his radio as she pulled the heavy ambulance door closed. “Fike, can you get me any info on that kid we bought in a few weeks ago?” He retreated to the car as the ambulance sped off down the empty street. He watched it go, feeling like it was carrying precious cargo. Then he realised how ridiculous that feeling was and shook himself. 

“Which one? Can you be more specific, Colonel?” Fike’s voice came crackling back over the radio. 

Lyle slid back into the passenger seat. “Good spot, Colonel. Now can we get coffee on the way?”

Miles let his annoyance settle quietly in his stomach, ignoring his partner in favour of the radio. “Kid bought in for stealing an iPad from the Apple store. Sixteen.”

“Copy that, I’ll check for you.”

“There’s no way the kid told them anything,” Lyle commented, listening to the exchange. “It’s real sad, but he's on a one track road and it’s going nowhere good.”

“And that’s okay is it?” Miles surprised himself for his response. He was never normally this invested in a case. “We should just let it be?”

Lyle had the decency to look abashed. “What are we supposed to do, Colonel?”

Miles shook his head. He knew it wasn’t their individual responsibility to take in every lovable stray, but it still felt like a failure of the police department that a kid like Spider had been allowed to deteriorate to such an extent. “I don’t know,” he relented.

Thankfully, Fike was quick. “Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Miles’s heart stopped. 

For a moment he thought… but it must have been radio static. “Can you repeat that, officer?”

A few seconds of confused silence went by as Lyle stared at him and they waited for Fike to get back to them. “Copy, Miles Socorro, ward of the state.” 

Dread filled his stomach.

Vile nausea rose in his throat and he needed air… he needed to step out… Miles Socorro. She’d called the baby after him? 

This couldn’t be right. This was a mistake, a coincidence. It had to be a common name. 

“Colonel, you alright?” Lyle's voice was far away. 

He was outside again, leaning against the car door, his head in his hands. He just needed some deep breaths. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. Miles Socorro. 

It wouldn’t stop. 

The name swirled around his brain incessantly, each time with more veracity and more vengeance, over and over again until he realised it would never let him go. The baby. The baby. 

It was him. 

Of course it was. He’d known it from their first meeting when the kid had squinted at him against the blinding sunset with an empty cider bottle in his hand.

“Holy shit.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and vaguely registered that Lyle was concerned about him. 

“I fucked up,” he said. “I fucked up. I messed it all up.”

Of course it was Miles. His son. Suddenly he thought of nothing else, gaining a sense of clarity for just long enough to press his radio once more. “Can you look up Paz Socorro?”

He didn’t care what anybody was thinking right now. 

“Is this a relation, Colonel?”

“Just look her up!”

“She’s not on our system… Hang on, let me search…” 

Miles held his breath, the nausea hot at the back of his throat, burning him from the inside out. 

“Paz Socorro, deceased. Died in 2013.”

Miles couldn't stem the surge that retched its way up his throat. He bent double over the sidewalk, vomiting feet away from where they’d found Spider. 

She was dead? Why hadn’t they contacted him? His son… the baby he’d made… had ended up here!

“Colonel, steady!” That was Lyle. 

“Everything okay over there?” That was Fike. 

Miles’s chest was imploding. He’d failed. He’d failed. How had he not been made aware? How could he have not bothered to check? They’d agreed it was for the best they had no contact, but Miles could never, never have imagined… 

Suddenly all he wanted was to be by Miles’s side. His son’s side. Spider. 

He didn't bother replying to either man, instead wiping his mouth roughly on his cuff and slamming the door behind as he climbed back into the driver’s seat. Lyle quickly followed him back inside the car but seemed too stunned to address anything. “Er, Colonel…”

“We’re going to the hospital.”

A moment of silence passed. “Who’s the kid?” Lyle asked in a low voice.

Miles gripped the steering wheel tighter than he had in his life, his knuckles turning white. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say it out loud. Then it would make his failure real. His life’s failure, real. “I think you know,” he said in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. 

Lyle sat back in the seat and allowed Miles to drive the short distance without pressing any further. “All good here,” his partner replied when Fike radioed back. 

Miles’s voice had stopped working. He wasn’t sure any of him was working any more.

[allieebobo]

Eid Mubarak :)

I'm so sorry this is a little late, but Eid Mubarak to everyone who celebrates! (And Selamat Hari Raya to folks who come from where I come from! <3)

Here's a little snippet of Rayyan and MC back home, celebrating :)

Part I.

Rayyan's family have just gotten back from their neighbourhood mosque, and now they're busy with the finishing touches to the meal preparations.

Little Mahaila is still a little too young to help out, but she doesn't wanted to miss out on all the fun, so Rayyan hoists her up to the kitchen counter, and Mahaila keeps up a constant stream of chatter directed at MC, while Rayyan and their mother busy themselves with the cooking.

Already the counter is laden with huge colorful dishes, and the smell is to die for. Mahaila's pointing out each of the dishes to MC one-by-one, and Rayyan and their mother occasionally chime in with details and little family anecdotes and recipe instructions.

There's Mahshi—stuffed peppers with tomato sauce, her grandparents' favorite, Batatis bil frakh—potatoes with chicken, her dad's favorite, and Mesaka’a—oven roasted eggplant with ground beef, which is Rayyan's favorite. Rayyan no longer quite remembers how it had tasted, back in Cairo, but ever since they'd moved to Seattle, the dish has become a family specialty, mostly because all the ingredients can be easily found in the grocery shops in Seattle.

Part II.

Rayyan's mother holds a spoon out to Rayyan. "Come, help me taste the Molokhia," she says. "Does it need more cilantro?"

Rayyan takes a big mouthful of the thick green soup which always tastes a little too healthy, in their opinion. They scrunch up their face, swallow, and nod—a little weakly.

Their mother smacks them on the arm and snorts. "I don't know why I bother," she says, shaking her head and bustles over to offer it to MC instead.

The shock of the taste makes MC blink, then breathe out softly, before allowing it to swirl around their tongue, delightfully distinct from anything they've ever tasted. They detect chicken broth, which forms the strong, comforting base, then the delicate and familiar layers of cilantro, garlic, salt and pepper, but there's another taste—strong and clean—cutting through everything else. "Wow," they breathe, genuinely astounded. "It's amazing. What is it?"

Rayyan's mother beams at MC. "I think what you are tasting is the leaf of jute tree. I am happy you like it. It is my favorite too." She nudges Rayyan in the ribs. "We have good taste. Unlike this one."

Rayyan makes a face at you. "Suck up," they whisper, for your ears only, but even their usual knitted brows can't hide the big grin that's spreading across their face.

Part III.

A loud clatter interrupts your conversation, and Rayyan looks up in alarm, still swiping at their mouth with an arm. Ishaq, one of Rayyan's twin brothers, pauses guiltily mid-stride, about halfway to the kitchen door. You hadn't noticed him come in. In his hands, there's a big bowl of kahk—nut cookies dusted with sugar. A bunch of cutlery lie on the floor, knocked over in his rush to escape with the loot.

Mahaila, beaming, lips also stained with the evidence of powdered sugar, helpfully points a finger at her brother.

"You already ate like five of them," Rayyan's mother scolds, taking the plate from Ishaq and placing it firmly on the table. "Shoo now! Before I ban you from kahk for life!"

His jaw drops, and he quickly scurries away obediently.

Rayyan snorts at you, and sees you eyeing the cookies curiously. They pick one out of the plate, then close the distance between you, smiling. "Would you like one?" they ask, voice dipping low as they lean in closer to you.

Part IV.

MC's heart flutters, and they hop off the counter, face now inches from Rayyan's. "If it's as sweet as you are," MC says, grinning, "then yes."

Rayyan bring a hand up, then pop the sweet treat into MC's mouth, studying their expression closely.

There's an immediate burst of rich, nutty sweetness. MC lets out a soft groan of appreciation.

Rayyan laughs, then brings their thumb up to wipe the sugar from MC's bottom lip, green eyes sparkling. MC catches their hand. That's when Rayyan leans in for a quick kiss, tasting the sweetness of soft sugar on MC's lips. When they finally step back, there's an infuriatingly smug smile on their face. "The cookies are good this year, aren't they? I helped make them."

[angelleplaytoonbeary]

No one can forget this great and hilarious scene, but something occurred to me :0

Many rubbish later...

Anyway enjoy XD 🧸💜

[sarcasmsweetie]

Insecurities

A requested bonus scene for "A Better Life"! And my first request! I had a blast with this, and wound up doing a whole cannonball into insecurities instead of just dipping a toe in. Woops...

Request: would you mind writing about something in the a better life series where the reader is a little insecure and az reassures her?

Word count: 3.4k

Azriel x Archeron Sister

Masterlist

Taglist: On hold until the shadowban is lifted (as no one gets notified when I post with the ban still in place)

When Mor wants something, Mor gets it. Unfortunately, what she wants is to celebrate my visit back in Velaris with a night out at Rita’s. This is my first time back since Nyx was born, so I was hoping for a quieter evening in with everyone. “Quiet,” however, is not a word in Mor’s vocabulary. As Feyre and Rhys stayed home with their son, they promised me they’d spend all day tomorrow with me to make up for their absence tonight.

While I thought I wanted the quiet night, Rita’s proved to be fun as well. Mor hadn’t dragged me onto the dance floor just yet, so I enjoyed sitting in the booth beside Nesta, chatting with her and Cassian about anything and everything. Especially Nesta’s latest book recommendations.

“When you go home, I’ll pack up a few things for you to take back. Don’t think I didn’t notice how bare your shelves were when Cassian and I visited last month.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is you’re going to send back a miniature library of romance novels, with a spice level no lower than 4 out of 5. Shall I also prepare a journal for my reviews so we can talk in length next time we see each other?” Cassian laughed, thinking I was joking, but Nesta’s eyes brightened in excitement.

“Not just reviews, but I want stream of consciousness. I can’t be there by your side to gauge your reactions, so I need to know everything about what you like and what you don’t so I can strengthen the next haul, ensure every book is to your liking.”

“Then for this first round, throw in a few mystery novels as well if you have them.” She raised an eyebrow and I shrugged. “I like to see if I can figure out the answer before it’s revealed.” Nesta looked to be deep in thought, mentally cataloguing everything she’s read and what could fit the “mystery” criteria.

Grabbing my drink, I noticed Azriel watching with mild interest in our conversation. Varian and Amren were speaking quietly to one another on one side, while Mor tried to convince Elain to try her tequila cocktail on his other.

“I’ve got a few mystery novels I can add to the collection. Maybe in your journal, you can note when you think you’ve figured it out and we can compare who solved it quicker.” I raised my glass to him, and he raised his beer in response.

“While I don’t like my odds, Spymaster, I’ll accept this challenge.” We both smiled as we finished the last of our drinks. Taking a glance around the table, I noticed everyone else’s glasses were low. As Elain and I each were on the end of the rounded booth and she was still trying to decline Mor’s invitation to try her incredibly strong drink, I took the initiative to get everyone’s refills. “I’ll go grab us another round.” Amren smiled as she finished the last of her wine as Azriel tried to stand to help. “You’re wedged in, Az. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a minute.” He nodded, though with a slight hesitation, as he moved to settle back into his seat.

I moved around some of the stray dancers on the edge of the dancefloor to get to the bar, thankful there was a space opening up at the bar as I approached. Stepping in quickly before anyone else could, I waved down the closest bartender and requested everyone’s drinks. As the bartender began to make everything, I organized my coin purse to pay for the drinks and leave a hefty tip. I took a few minutes to look around my surroundings, smiling softly at the dancing couples and the groups of people laughing around the bar. A flash of blonde caught my eye, and I watched as Mor made her way to the center of the floor, dancing briefly with everyone she moved past. My smile grew at the image, though my eyes glanced back to our table. Elain was seated bit closer to Az, presumably so she wouldn’t have to move again when Mor came back from dancing. My smile dropped a bit, though I knew things weren’t like they used to be between them. She was writing with Lucien, and I knew Azriel was trying to get to know me better. But I watched the easy way they spoke to one another, the way they engaged so effortlessly. I watched as he chuckled over something she said, and I felt something tighten in my chest. It was easy to guess they were commenting on Mor as they were both watching her dance, a simple and safe topic, but that didn’t wipe away the sting of jealousy I had watching them together.

“Do you think the Shadowsinger will ever make a move on that female?” I tore my gaze from the table to the couple at the bar beside me.

“Who knows? We never see him with anyone, though it would be a shame if he lets this one slip away. They look so pretty together, don’t they? Opposites attract, and all that.”

They provided a bit more commentary to one another about my sister and my mate, suggesting ideas of their relationship simply being more private than others of the Inner Circle, before they collected their drinks and moved somewhere else. I didn’t watch where they went as my gaze fell back on the two in question.

They did look quite attractive. Elain was always light and petite, which I could agree paired well with his darker and larger build. Having always been the tallest of the sisters, I was always closer to the men’s height of our village, never really knowing what it was like to look up to someone or struggle to meet their eye. I also packed on a bit of muscle since moving to Winter due to maintaining the cabin and Fenrir’s stable all on my own. Feyre and Nesta had a bit of muscle themselves, but I always believed they had the build of dancers whereas mine feels… thicker than what they have. Elain, on the other hand, was as feminine as one could be, focusing primarily on “traditional” tasks a female would take on and not anything that could build a strength that could threaten the strength of the male on her arm.

My brain fell down the rabbit hole of thinking back to every encounter I’ve witnessed of the two of them, remembering how there’s always been an easy connection there. They never had to argue in order to be seen, to be on the same side. They never had to fight in order to keep the other’s attention. One simply exists and the other is in their orbit. If Nesta never said anything about the mating bond, would they still be together? Or would he have realized on his own what he had done and stepped away, chose me?

I was brought out of my musings by a bump to my back. Turning, I noticed the bartender sliding a tray holding all of our drinks towards me. I apologized for zoning out, handing over the payment and tip, and headed back to the table. Along the way, Mor caught up with me, sliding an arm over my shoulders while grabbing her drink for herself. She helped me pass out everyone’s drinks before saying she’ll take the tray back to the bar for me.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself with that, Mor! I’ve got it.” She smirked at me.

“Trust me when I say that this is no trouble. In fact, you’re doing me the favor of giving me an excuse to chat up the cute new bartender Rita brought on.” She winked as she sauntered off, and most of the table chuckled.

I tried to at least remain aware to the conversations around me as I nursed my drink, but I kept falling back into the thoughts of not belonging here, of not being enough. Nesta nudged me, brows slightly furrowed, but I tried to shake her concerns away with a smile. “Just tired, is all. Not used to nights out like this.” Nesta didn’t look convinced, but Elain nodded along like she understood.

“I normally don’t come out, either. What would you be doing now if you were still in Winter?” While Elain has been getting better at asking questions since our confrontation last time I was in Velaris, I noticed she never called Winter my home – just referenced it as a place I was currently staying at.

“I’m attempting to knit socks.” I chuckled to myself as I looked back down to my drink. “Right now, I’d be snuggled up on the sofa in front of a large fire, trying to figure out why I just can’t get socks right. Something about the way they curve at the heel is apparently baffling to me.” I shrugged as I thought about what else my nights would entail. “Tomorrow would have been a brunch day with Viv, so when I inevitably get fed up with the knitting, I’d move to the kitchen and bake something for those at the manor. There is a common fondness for ginger biscuits, so I’ve been toying around with some of those flavors. But now that I’m building up my own library, I imagine more reading in my future.” I glanced back up at Elain and she had a small smile on her face, though the same could not be said for everyone else at the table.

Before letting any possible looks of pity settle in my skin at my isolation, I swallowed back the rest of my drink. “And I believe this is where I’ll call it a night. Tell Mor I said good night and thank her for inviting me out, would you?” I kissed Nesta’s cheek in goodbye, squeezing Cassian’s extended hand at the same time, then nodded at Amren and Varian (genuinely shocked they were still here).

Elain stood to hug me goodbye, asking if I could join her in the gardens tomorrow. I agreed with a smile, mentally sorting through a possible schedule with Rhys and Feyre that would allow me time to break away, and we both watched Azriel stand from the booth before Elain could slide back in. “I’ll walk you back.” I was fully prepared to turn down the offer, content to wallow in my own self-pity, but the stern look in his gaze made it clear he wouldn’t accept any arguments. Biting back a sigh, I nodded and followed him out. As we neared the exit, my eye caught the couple from the bar, both of whom looked shocked he was leaving with someone other than Elain as they moved their gaze between myself and my sister, whispering to one another as they watched. Crossing my arms over my chest, I felt myself shrink a bit under their judgments, clearly not impressed with Azriel’s choice of company.

Once we were out the door, I only felt one pair of eyes on me instead of dozens. I kept my gaze forward, not wanting to look at the source of my anxiety. “Thank you for the offer, Azriel, but I can walk back on my own. I don’t want to take you away from your evening.” From my sister.

“Like you, nights out aren’t really my thing. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along in your escape.” Ah, so I’m just an excuse to leave as well. “And while I know you’re still here for a week, I was hoping you wouldn’t be opposed to me stealing you tonight for a bit longer? Walk around the city, just us?” Startled, I glanced up at him to find his gaze intense and locked on my own. “Please?” Doing the one thing I didn’t want to do, I stared into his hazel eyes and found myself agreeing without thinking. The smile he offered in response was so bright, I had to look away.

“Lead the way.” We were quiet as we walked, and I took the time to observe my surroundings. When I lived here, I never came out at night, which I’m learning was quite the shame as it truly is beautiful. Not just the sky, but the people became livelier at this time, all enjoying an evening under a clear, bright night. The moon lit up everything around us, and it’s like the buildings came alive as well under the moon beams. He walked me to a bridge over the Sidra, and I found myself in awe at the clear water reflecting the sky, as if the stars of Night lived in the water as well as the sky. I contemplated reaching out to see if I could actually scoop a star from the water, but decided to save that possible embarrassment for another day.

“This is my favorite place to go when I have something weighing on my mind.” I glanced at him, wondering what he was worried about. Was I so lost in my head that I didn’t even notice he was upset as well? He was leaning against the railing, arms crossed in front of him. His head was facing forwards, but his eyes were focused on me at his side. I felt myself slipping back into old roles, preparing to be a mediator for a possible argument he’s in with someone or soundboard for frustrations in trying to solve a problem. I didn’t know the tells of the Spymaster to know which role he needed of me now, but I’m pretty certain that I have experienced next to every possibility with three younger sisters always needing something.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about what’s weighing on you?” He turned himself to face me fully, though his features didn’t change to help me pinpoint what I could do to help.

“I was about to ask you the same questions. You’ve been quiet, in your head. And it’s more than just being tired. I thought maybe a place that helps me sort things out could do the same for you.” I blinked at him, trying to wrap my head around the abrupt change.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s just… I do the listening, I don’t do the talking.” He eased his elbow onto the railing, relaxing into the position as if he was beginning to settle down for a long conversation.

“I get the sense that maybe it’s time for you to do some talking.” His eyes shifted, and he glanced down. “If you want to talk to someone else, that’s fine. I suppose I did just assume you’d open up to me…” I bit my lip, unsure of what to do.

Instead of talking, I moved closer to where he was and mirrored his previous position that allowed me to look over the Sidra instead of looking directly at him.

“I think that’s part of the issue.” I could practically feel his gaze on me, which made me focus more on how the skyline and water blended seamlessly into one another. “I don’t know how to open up to you.” I swallow, wondering if I should say what’s on my mind. “I suppose the only way to open up is to just do it, so thank the gods I have a few drinks in me to keep pushing me forward, but…”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes only to envision him and Elain next to each other in the booth. Next to each other on the love seat. Next to each other at the dining table. “I wonder what you would have done if Nesta never said anything.” With my eyes still closed, I didn’t see him go still, but I could feel his stillness all the same. Something in the air shifted, and I let my shoulders droop. “It was so easy for you and Elain to be together. You brought her out of her shell, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that she lightened something inside of you as well. It’s why I never said anything when I still lived here. I couldn’t possibly be the selfish one, inserting myself into your narrative because I thought I should be there with no regard to what you and Elain wanted. It wasn’t just me involved in all of this. You cared for her, you chose her. And I wonder if Nesta never said anything, would you still be by her side because it’s so effortless?”

My words echoed around in my head as I continued to see him and Elain together behind closed lids, continued to compare myself to my younger sister in ways I never did before this bond snapped in place. He remained silent, and that tightness in my chest grew stronger the longer he kept quiet. I opened my eyes, vision blurry with tears wanting to spill, and decided it was time to go.

“Thank you for showing me this place, but I should head back – “

“I choose you.” I froze, back to him, when he finally spoke up. “I choose you as I should have from the very beginning. But even if Nesta never said anything, I know I would have still chosen you. You said it seems effortless and easy between Elain and I. In some regard, I suppose that’s true. But that’s because no decisions were ever needed between us. Nothing was ever at stake because we were never supposed to be together. I will continue to grovel for all of our days for the pain that I’ve caused you, but I know now what I should have known then, and that is that I don’t want effortless.” My brows furrowed as I turned to him, and he shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” I watched him for a moment as he tried to form the words he’s struggling with.

He began pacing, alternating between rubbing his face and pulling at his hair as he tried to explain himself. “I want to be challenged. I don’t want you blindly agreeing with everything I’m saying, but questioning what I say, having different opinions on what I think so that we can have a deeper connection, a deeper understanding of each other. I want someone who asks questions when I’m talking about my day, disagrees with my theories of books, someone who calls me out on my bullshit. I don’t want the ‘easy and effortless’ life you claim Elain and I could have had because that was so… empty. We talked about the most mundane things because we didn’t know what else to talk about.” He turned and looked at me, eyes softening. “I want to read by your side in front of a large fire while you succeed in knitting your first sock. I want to join you in teasing Cassian when we tell him that Fenrir is the superior version of himself. I want to hold you in my arms when we can’t sleep as I take you flying and you tell me about recipes you’re trying out and how they’re different from when you made it in the human lands.” He gave up on pacing to move in front of me, grabbing my hands and holding tight. “I want you to be the one I go to when I’m happy, sad, furious with my brothers and their stupidity, when I’m exasperated with my brothers and their stupidity…” He gently raised a hand to wipe away the tears from my face. “I’ve chosen you, and I’m never going back on that. And I will be here when you’re ready to choose me, too.”

His words bounced around my head as if that would make it easier for me to process what he said. He remained silent, thumb continuing to wipe tears as they fell, eyes moving over my face as if committing this snot-filled moment to memory.

I choose you.

The hand that still encased in his tightened its grip slightly. “I choose dinner.” His brows furrowed and I fought back a smile. “With you. One of these nights while I’m still in town. Maybe we can talk about some of these books and theories you have.”

“It’s a date.”

[stiles-o-dylan24]

NOT YOU JUST CASUALLY DROPPING NEW STADDY CONTENT ON A RANDOM FUCKING TUESDAY

[askstevella]

See you again event bonus scene / Earth 65

—-

A couple of hours after Steve return home with Thiego, he gave himself some time to breathe. To let Thiego hang out with his little sister, as you can hear some laughter, a light sense of sobbing and chatter coming from down the hallway. Hell he could hear Natasha and the girls rolling into a little conversation with his wife, Liane even mentioned she is gonna paint her nails a pretty teal color.

Yes it sounds horrible to some that he didn’t see his own wife right away the moment he returned but he wanted to freshen up properly before he did. Which meant he took a quick trip to the flower shop downtown and the farmers market, then came home to have a nice little shower. As he showered, all he could think about was the memories that the other version of Stella placed to the forefront of his mind as he smiled softly at the mere thought. He forgot about the tiny yet memorable moments he shared with his wife.

The day they met in 2010 to him asking her out on a date as she gladly said yes, to their soft dating period where he kept that secret time away from the team. He didn’t bother to tell his teammates about dating the SHIELD nurse yet for 2 years, it never came up until 2012 when the battle of New York came Natasha noticed how he kept his gaze every once in a while on a few agents and nurses on the Helicarrier. She smirked but didn’t say a word until after the battle was over and jokingly teased Steve, along with Tony and Bruce about who it was that he liked.

He was even shown his period from 2013–2015, where SHIELD and The Avengers members worked alongside one another to do good. His time in Washington DC for 2 years living with her as Stella and his friend down the hallway who pretended to be a nurse was actually a agent called Sharon Carter. Finding out about SHIELD being compromised with Sam Wilson, Natasha, Fury and Maria. Bucky being alive and searching for him.

They took a lot of hits but everything turned around as Sam and Steve found Bucky, able to coax the man into coming to get some real help after a couple of visits to his apartment. Bucky said yes, coming to live at Avengers Tower with the others, meeting Elle and after a long while starting to date Sam.

Steve remember the whole Ultron thing with Elle, 2015 was a great year having been together for 6 years at that point as the idea of marriage and kids started to roll around in their heads. Especially after the whole Clint Barton farm visit, talking with Laura and meeting his beautiful family. Bucky was teased by Sam about having little monsters running around the compound.

And they did talk about it, as 2016 he got down on one knee in front of everyone during a dinner party, giving a sweet speech and asking who to be his girl til the day he died, as she said yes. Bucky, Natasha and Tony were the first ones to think of a engagement party, as all the girls and guys gushed. It was also the year of the accident for Elle, as she was pretty banged up and went in and out of surgery, as he stood by her and did everything he could to nurse her back to health. In which she did, getting a dose of magic added to her system. Months later the two were married having a little celebration at the compound.

Years later, The Accords happened (nothing bad since the avengers were able to fool and outsmart the government. Hell Black Panther was on their side along with The X-Men), Thanos never really came in full force as he was a huge one and done, but Ultron did make a few returns across the years. Yet the series of heroes and anti-heroes, young and old were able to defend their world every time.

As of now in the—

“Daddy?”

~~~

Steve was in the kitchen in his thoughts already, creating a simple meal and organized a special bouquet of flowers when he heard the small voice. He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of brown eyes and rich light blonde curls meeting him halfway. Her cute little dress and wearing indoor shoes, as she held up her notebook.

Sarah Theodora Rogers. She was a spit image of his mother from the first name to her short blonde curls. However her eyes and nose were all Elle’s and her facial expressions were a clever mix of both parents. Her middle name was inspired by Thiego Strange, her uncle.

He smiled, placing her on the kitchen counter pushing the curls away from her faces.

“What are you doing here? I thought you and Pietro were spending the day together.” He asked with a smile, looking at the sandwich that was being grilled in the frying pan.

She shrugged with a smile, “Oh I was! But then we got sidetracked at the park after he realized he had to guy groceries and then he met a pretty girl…”

“And then he went a date with her?”

“No, he asked her where he could buy some donuts, so he can give them to Ji-Hoon.”

“Ah okay, what about afterwards?”

“Then he dropped me off at Wanda and Ethan who were watching Sitcoms. Uh, I got bored and found you.”

“And found me you did. I’m making lunch, you hungry?”

She nodded with a grin as he went to work making her a grilled cheese and ham sandwich. He would have mad something more grand but he knew she would have liked something more simple today. Besides she adored his sandwiches more than anything!

Sarah noticed the two sets of flowers. She pointed out the daisies and tulips, asking, “Who are those for?”

“The daisies are for you. The tulips are for mama. You like ‘em?” He asked, placing two plates next to the frying pan ready to put the sandwiches on them.

“Very! I um..uh daddy, I have a question. Is momma gonna be okay? Like get better?”

He put the sandwiches on 2 different plates and paused. He couldn’t lie to her in a sense, he was smart enough to notice and braver than he could believe, being very proud of her for it.

He tried to find the words and nodded, “..okay. Uh, honestly sweetie, i don’t know the true answer to that. I like to believe she will get better and push through it, especially with how much love and support we all give her..there are days where she doing better than most, there are days where she weaker than others..but she will get better.”

“And if she doesn’t? I know about life and death, Grandpa Stephen says that he sees it a lot in the hospital..auntie Nat says it is part of life..” Sarah repiled with a curious look on her face, as if trying to make sense of it all.

“Well, remember that birdie you and Theigo found one day after school?”

“Yeah?”

“And how she was hurt really badly so you tried to take care of her? Then afterwards she was doing fine and once the world made it clear, she flew away into another life..”

“Yeah it was sad but she looked calm when she died.”

“Mhm exactly, she wasn’t scared. Remember what happened a few days later?”

Sarah smiled this time and nodded, “My teacher got us a class bird! Her name Ruby, even though she is blue. It was like she was meant for our class, or least that’s what my teacher said.”

Steve chuckled, “Exactly. What happened with your birdie, is that she moved on but her spirt stayed to bring joy. So her next life, she must’ve became that bird to watch over your class, like a mascot.”

“So what I’m hearing is that Mommy is gonna turn into a bird?”

“Hahaha, maybe. Depends on what life has in store for her but I know for certain that she will be watching over us and let us know she’s still around in her own way.”

“How do you know so much, Daddy?”

“I just do. Just like I know your grandma Sarah, who you’re named after, is doing the same thing right now.”

Sarah smiled brightly and hugged her father, as Steve wrapped his arms around her tightly showering her face with kisses as she giggled. Once the father-daughter duo pulled away, Sarah brought the flowers to her room then came back following her father into the living room as he requested of she can bring the tulips to her mom for him as he carried the sandwiches.

~~~

In the living room, sat Elle on the couch with a blanket over her legs to keep her warm as she flipped across channels looking for something entertaining enough to watch. She looked very much less pale than when he left as she got a lot of color back, she laughed like herself again at the movie silly slapstick humor and her hair looked to be in a low ponytail.

She was playing with a old colorful fan in her hand, waving her around making silly flirtatious eyes as the paired walked into the room.

It made Steve’s smile grow at the sight. She was doing a lot better today and he thanked the universe for that gift. He winked at her doing so.

Sarah was the first to reach the couch, holding the flowers up to her mother giggling as she curled into her arms. Elle wrapped her arms around her daughter kissing her cheeks and thanked her for the bouquet, giving the fan over to her to play with. She knew how much Sarah loved that fan as she stayed twirling it around, resting her head on her shoulder.

Steve sat down on the other side of his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek and handed her the plate. She thanked him, watching Sarah take her own plate and started to dig in, looking up at the silly film as she did so. Elle took a bite of her sandwich, humming at the delicious food in front of her and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.

Midway through eating, Elle stopped and looked at her husband. Steve glanced over as he locked eyes with her alert, asking, “Are you okay? You need anything?”

She scoffed chuckling, “Relax! I’m fine..I feel better today.”

“You look better. You’re cheeks are rosy and your not as pale.”

“I noticed. A little tired but I’m fine. I know what you did earlier.”

He raised an eyebrow as he click onto what she meant and sighed, “Elle, doll, I’m sorry it’s just…”

“I know..” She simply replied, with a half hearted smile, “I overheard Thiego and Bruce talking with Nat down the hall when Liane was painting my nails. They weren’t subtle enough about it..you are insane, you know that?”

“I had a plan! Make the plan, execute the plan and expect the plan to not go off the rails. Yes, I was a little extreme the last 48 hours..”

“A little?”

“A lot. I broke a few short grids, bruised a rib or two..then made a mistake to take ones life over another..not my best move. I was not thinking straight, baby..and ran past a few stop signs as well to buy myself some time.”

“You broke into another Earth’s SHIELD headquarters and tricked a few people to get to another version of me..meanwhile Thiego was searching across the fields of earths causing some damage to strike a deal. You two could’ve been arrested for that.”

“I know. I know! I made that version of Cap to look like public enemy to SHIELD by causing that damage..I’m sorry, I messed up but it was because I was afraid..”

“..of losing me? Instead of staying with me and enjoying whatever time the universe is giving us..”

“Well if you say like that, I sound even worse.”

This time Elle snorted and chuckled shaking her head at his comment. She didn’t blame him for it, she knew the people in her life would do anything to make things right, find another way to fix things. Even if it meant getting hurt or something.

Steve rested his forehead against hers, a simple yet gentle move he does plenty of time before during moments like this. She leaned into his touch. He sighed and smiled, letting out a chuckle.

After a moment tears came to the blink of her eyes as he spoke, “I got your note today..it was lovely. Bittersweet like a poem, almost like a song. You’re my first love, Elle. I don’t want to see you gone yet..but when it comes I won’t be as scared or furious as I think I would be..”

She smiled had her eyes wet and asked, “Why’s that?”

“Because I know you won’t be alone. None of us will. You gave me the greatest gifts I could ever ask for. I could not thank you enough for being my wife and friend from the day I woke up in this century. You gave me a beautiful little girl who laughs like you and has my mother’s name.”

“And Thiego likes to brag about her being his mini me.”

“This is about me, not him.”

Both of them laughed, snorting at the joke. She knew he was joking. Steve was being humorous with that last comment, of course he was happy that his brother in law got a wonderful gift as well.

She smirked, waved for him to continue his lovely speech, “Go on, Mr Rogers. I like where this is headed.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me now, Elle.” He replied with a smile and winked, “If you do, I might have to take you to bed later. In all seriousness, you are always gonna be my light in dark. Despite the problems we have had over the years, we always find a way to make it home to one another.”

“You are my home. My family.”

“And you’re mine. I know when the time comes I will see you again any form. Even if we’re both two little birds flying in the park.”

Elle paused for a second to understand what he meant by the birds reference, noticing his gaze fell to Sarah who was minding her own business watching the movie, as it clicked what he meant. She smiled at that, knowing that no matter who it is that goes first to fly around in heaven their daughter will be safe and sound.

She nodded at her husband and chuckled, “Yeah, two beautiful birds. I love Mr. Rogers.”

“I love more Mrs. Rogers.” He replied, leaning forward to cup her face with a hand and press a long awaited kiss onto her lips.

She leaned into his touch placing a hand to the back of his cheek as she returned kiss in full force.

They stayed there for a couple of moments, locking lips with one another whispering sweet nothings, resting their foreheads together out of old habits. Steve lazily wrapping an around her body, bringing her in closer using the other hand to reach over to tickle Sarah’s side grabbing her attention as she giggled trying to wiggle away from her parents.

Elle opened her arm, wiggling her fingers to tickle their daughter as tried to crawl away but Elle gently reached forwarded lifting Sarah into an embrace. The little girl giggled and smiled, curling into her mother’s arms in glee stealing a bite of the sandwich her mom didn’t finished, then placed the sandwich in front of her father who took bite himself humming.

Elle mock gasped, “Hey that was mine!”

Steve finished chewing and chuckled, “You didn’t finish it! And I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Are not.”

Sarah giggled, “Yes you are, daddy! You and uncle Thor and uncle Bucky always are hungry.”

Steve gasped and tickled her, “Who’s side are you on, young lady?”

“Mommy’s side!”

The small family laughed smiling, deciding to enjoy the film that was placed on the TV.

——

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me what you think about?

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @mallowbee4 @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @sherloquestea and etc

[spacebubblehomebase]

I'm sorry if you've said in a previous post about the Stargazers Au, but is it going to be entirely in comic form or is some of it going to be fanfic?

Also your art is delightfully soft and the character interactions so far are very fun.

I haven't gotten this question before! =0 But to answer, while not every part of my AU's lore would be presented in comic form, I plan for ALL of it to have some type of art at least! Even if it's not a comic. (In fact, the next part coming up would be exactly that!)

While I have written fanfics before, I tend to get stuck in my own head when I write and I get too deep and philosophical. Which is the exact opposite mood that comes out from my drawings. Usually lighthearted and made for simple fun! So I prefer to stick to my favorite medium and draw as much of this story as I can! ^v^ And thank you! The soft giddy fluff is everything I wanna convey in my art so I'm glad it pulls through! =D Please look forward for more! -Bubbly💙 Like... ⤵️

BONUS Charlie & Alastor interaction I never added to the 1st part because it wasn't all that interesting or important story wise. Just a glimpse of their fun dynamic and a hint of Alastor's new palate. Which will be addressed later, but as for the odd green doodles, don't worry. They're not Voodoo. In my AU, Alastor creates radio station symbols instead! =D If it's not obvious, Charlie didn't see him do all his creepy magic from behind her either! 😅

[dominimoonbeam]

[gently knocks your door down]

domini!!! may i ask for [ HAIR ] and [ BEHIND ] from the 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 👀. and [ DEFEND ] and [ PULL ] from sexual tension prompts. for sam and darlin???

ZOZO!!!! Your asks often lead to some of my favorite things. <3 I ended up doing this as a bonus scene in Scars That Remind! I hope you don't mind! It's during that phase where Darlin and Sam are pretending to date but already head over heels. <3 <3 <3 Hope you enjoy it! <3 <3 <3

Sam/Darlin

tags: idiots in love, flirting, vampire harassment, some violence

Scars That Remind: Bonus Scene

Darlin got to the blood club and knew almost instantly that Sam wasn’t there yet. They could spot him easily and though they liked to joke that it was because he stuck out in a crowd that fetishized lace, silk, and velvet, it wasn’t true.

Darlin could have spotted Sam in a crowd of cowboys. They tried not to think about way, or that little pang of disappointment when he wasn’t there yet.

They made their way to the bar, sliding in between a couple making out and a group. The bartender was down at the other end, so Darlin waited. It wasn’t like they were in hurry. When Sam go there, they’d talk and pretend to be a couple. They’d lean close and dance and kiss. Darlin knew they were enjoying this game more than they should be. They cared less and less about getting Quinn’s attention.

A hand slid up their back and Darlin tensed, knowing instantly that it wasn’t Sam. It moved all the way to the back of their neck, splaying fingers across their scarred neck.

Darlin swatted the hand away and turned to glare at the vamp. They’d never seen him before and weren’t sure if that was a relief or a reason to worry. Most of the biters they had met, knew Quinn and to stay away. Most had been watching them with Sam like they were lighting dynamite. And the ones that knew Darlin outside of Quinn, had known them for a fighter, for getting into scraps, breaking up brawls, and for being David Shaw’s sibling.

The vampire grinned, flashing those fangs like Darlin might like them…or fear them? Either way, he was going to be disappointed. “You’re an interesting one,” he said, gaze sliding to their neck again. “I can’t tell if one vampire really really wants to mark you as their own… or if you just get around.”

Great. At the blood club for a whole minute before getting into a fight…

“So, which is it?”

“Which answer will make you go away?”

He laughed and stepped closer, one boot nudging Darlin’s to wedge his thigh between theirs, pressing right up into their space. “Neither. I don’t mind if you’re a slut for teeth,” he cooed, like he was being tender, his hand on their hip. “And I’m not scared if someone made a claim…”

You should be, Darlin thought, only they weren’t thinking about Quinn. That realization startled them, freezing them up in a way this biter interpreted as fear. Sam was only pretending to date them. He definitely hadn’t claimed them in any way. The dating wasn’t even real. It was just for show.

The hand on their side squeezed, fingers bruising in against their ribs. “Let’s get out of here, dog.”

Darlin blinked at the idiot, still leaning back against the bar. “Are you trying to trance me, dipshit?”

He snarled, squeezing harder, straining a rib in a clear threat now. He clearly didn’t know how casually Darlin had broken those ribs in the past. They were about to shift, right there, and give him a face full of real teeth, when he let go. His whole body was jerked back and they had a front row seat to watch the complete surprise of it ripple across his features.

Sam had grabbed him back the hair and hoisted him back, kicking his leg hard enough to snap bone and put him on his knees with a wail of surprise. The other vampires jumped back, hesitating over how to react. Sam looked straight at Darlin. “I’m sorry I’m late. Give me another minute?”

Darlin blinked surprise but nodded, heat slowly climbing their face along with a smile.

Sam tipped his head to them before turning and dragging the offending biter through the bar. Someone grabbed the door and held it for him at the back.

“Everything okay?” the bartender ask, drawing Darlin’s attention.

They shrugged and ordered two beers.

They’d just taken their first sip when Sam came back. He stood behind them, a breath between Darlin’s back and his chest, when he reached around them to snag the other bottle. “You okay?” he asked, voice low like they could tell him the truth if they weren’t.

Darlin turned around in that small space, leaning back against the bar and finding that they liked having Sam up in their space just fine. “Yeah. You saved me from getting banned from this club.”

He frowned at that but took a sip of his beer. His eyes searched them, like he was looking for signs of physical damage.

Darlin laughed. “You’re really worried? I’m fine, doc.”

Sam nodded slowly. He reached out toward them, never using that vampire speed when he was about to touch, always giving them plenty of time to bring it to a stop. He tucked strands of their hair carefully behind their ear. “Maybe we should meet up someplace else next time and come in together.”

Darlin snorted, putting their beer down. “Are you serious? Oh, Sammy… You would have lost money if you’d bet on that vampire to win against me.” It wasn’t hubris. It was experience.

Sam put his beer down with theirs. “I would never bet against you.” To their surprise, he reached down and slowly lifted their shirt up their side, looking down at the red marks that would become bruises from where the biter had been gripping them. He frowned. “I’m sorry I was late, Darlin,” he said again. His bare hand settled over their side, over that same spot, only he wasn’t squeezing or trying to hurt them. A soft wave of magic against their skin and that low ache was gone, bruises averted.

Darlin grinned. “You spoil me,” they said, knowing well that others were listening and watching them.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked.

They knew he meant bailing on pretending to date. He was giving them an out. Darlin’s grin grew. “Sammy! You have to dance with me before you take me home,” they reminded.

His expression softened, his hand slowly sliding down their bare side, letting their shirt fall back into place. “Anything you want,” he said, and their heart fluttered. They hoped he didn’t catch it over the crowd and the music. They pushed off the bar and started toward the dance floor, the vampire at their side, his arm easily around their waist to keep them against him, guiding them both through the crowd.

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Seventh Year: Reconciliations Bonus Scene 7

Oh, I finally did Gabriel's POV of the thing! The thing! That scene where the breakdown happened.

Love to hear your thoughts! :)

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 4

Bonus Scene 5

Bonus Scene 6

Bonus Scene 8

**

When Raphael returned sans Michael and in too little time for anything to have happened, Gabriel was simultaneously disappointed and also resigned. Of course.

“Well?” Draco demanded. It felt rude calling him by his last name after everything. “What happened?”

Raphael looked and felt a little discomfited. “He says he would like time.” She glanced at Gabriel.

“We’ve been giving him time. It’s not been doing anything,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Not long enough,” Raphael disagreed. “We had so much time, Gabriel. Time he hasn’t had.”

On the surface level…sure. He could see that. He glanced at Samael. Ne looked unconvinced.

To the side, Draco and Luna seemed like they were about to gear up to protest.

“What exactly did he say, Raphael?” Gabriel asked. “Wasn’t it you who told us he’s masking?”

“Yes, but I understand that. I went through it myself. He and I – we’re very similar.” On noticing Gabriel still expected the details, Raphael sighed, obliging him. “He said there’s no issue. Pointed out we’re very similar and that he needs time. The same time I needed. He was…reassuring.”

There was a dry laugh from Draco. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“He asked that we trust him,” Raphael continued speaking. “Trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

Gabriel let out a hiss through his teeth, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’d spent some time with Michael here now. Time trying to get him to relax and come out of his shell. Just…anything other than the damn blankness that they were dealing with.

Their own conversation had gone so well, though even then Gabriel knew he was hiding something. Whatever Michael had shown him was true enough but it wasn’t the entire truth. It couldn’t be. Not when it felt so different from his other siblings.

There’d been a glimpse of it with Samael during that disastrous conversation after his friends came here. A glimpse of something Gabriel hadn’t seen since. That exhaustion and that all-too-familiar self-blame. It was a game Gabriel was intimately familiar with.

Gabriel rolled his shoulders, then turned towards Raphael. He tucked himself in, then reached out reassuringly, warmly. “Like this, sister?”

Raphael startled, giving him a wide-eyed look. Samael didn’t look that surprised, more resigned.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” Gabriel said, smiling, keeping his tone gentle, fitting the energy of his Grace. “Hey, I got it handled.” He laughed, giving a quicksilver grin, and shifted once more, bringing out boldness. “It’s all good, yeah? There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Gabriel—”

And he shifted once more, throwing aside the nervousness of what he was about to do. Tony sharpened his grin. “I got this.”

“This might make things worse,” Raphael cautioned.

Tony glanced at Draco and Luna, both of whom looked faintly bewildered. He gave them a reassuring smile. “Things are already fucked, Raphael. Besides, fixing things is what I do.”

He didn’t wait for a response, taking off to where Michael was. He found him standing in the forest, looking up at the sky and very carefully not feeling. Yeah, no. He landed right by Michael, taking hold of his shoulder. “So! That’s enough of that.”

Michael jolted, startled, even though there was nothing in his Grace. He was satisfyingly wide-eyed, though. He tried to twist away, but Tony held onto him tightly. “Gabriel—”

“If the next words coming out of your mouth are ‘I’m fine’ I will set your pants on fire.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider how serious Tony was. “I wasn’t going to.”

Tony had felt the incoming “I’m fine” coming a mile away. It was ridiculous. “And I’m the king of Asgard. Seriously. Michael.”

“What?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” It was like Samael all over again. Just…less moody. Or at least less moody in the open. “Sure, you can take all the time you want, but I don’t see how that’s actually going to help you when you keep flagellating yourself.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. You think I can’t recognize it?” It wasn’t quite the same, but Tony knew what it was like. Of not being good enough, of not being enough. Of needing to leave because no one would ever listen to him and it was all broken anyway. He gave Michael a pained smile. For this to work, he was going to need to share a little. So Michael knew he wasn’t in this alone – that he wasn’t being judged or pitied. “Take it from someone who did a deep dive into identity politics because I couldn’t stand being me.”

There was no response from Michael. He was just staring at Tony, wide-eyed and still so damn blank.

“I’m not going to tell you how I did it,” Tony said, “trade secrets being what they are and all, but it happened. I get it, Michael. I also know that all the time in the world did jack shit with helping me out.” Being Loki hadn’t helped. Being the Trickster hadn’t helped. It had just shoved it down further and further – how he ran from being him. Ran from his responsibilities.

Michael huffed, something like irritation flickering across his features. “And you’re going to tell me what did?”

Tony was hit with a sudden rush of nostalgia for teenage Sam. Down to the irritated little scrunch between the eyebrows. He shrugged. “Talking did. My friends did. My family. It still took time, but it wasn’t quite so painful with company.” He didn’t look away from Michael’s eyes. “You’re not as fine as you’re telling us you are, and you’re not as fine as you think you are.”

There was a flicker there. Something like fear in Michael’s Grace, but it disappeared so quickly Tony almost missed it. But his face did something else, flinching back.

“Don’t give me that look,” Tony said, aware he was pushing but this needed to happen. “I’m just saying. Anyone who went through even half of what you did would be a mess, and you’re claiming you’re just fine? Can handle it on your own?”

Michael looked away, though it seemed to take an effort. He was as stiff as iron under Tony’s grip, trying to move but Tony wasn’t having it. Not now. If he ran now, this wasn’t going to work. Tony was done with this entire affair; he’d had it.

But it seemed like a little of it had gone through. Maybe. He still wasn’t getting anything concrete off Michael beyond the very clear air of do not want to be here.

It seemed fitting that Michael’s vessel was that of a teenager. He certainly behaved like one at times.

Even if he wasn’t one, and Tony knew why Michael was behaving like this, even if it was frustrating. He sighed. “You probably can manage it,” he acknowledged. “Muddle your way through it. It’s what you’ve done all this time, isn’t it? Alone. I’m going to say it again, and this time maybe it’ll sink through your thick skull. We’re here for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Michael said immediately.

He hadn’t expected the quick answer, not when Michael had seemed to shut down. But this seemed to be something he could use. “There’s no should about it. There’s no ‘should’ about any of this. We are.”

Michael dropped his eyes to the grass.

“What should you do?” Tony asked after a moment, since the “should” seemed to be a sticking point. If Michael thought they shouldn’t help him, then there had to be something Michael thought he should do. He’d mentioned it before back during the argument with Samael.

There was a startled, almost suspicious side-eye from Michael. He seemed to be gauging Tony’s sincerity. Considering Tony was being 100%, bona fide sincere here, Michael wasn’t going to get anything else.

After a long moment of this, Michael slowly responded. “I should protect you.” He paused, then added, “I should have protected you.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed easily. This was expected. Michael had mentioned this before. “What else?”

There was another suspicious side-eye here, like Tony was leading Michael into a trick. “I should be fine.”

Oh, this was new. This was something different.  “Ah, acknowledging you’re not?”

“I am—”

“Pants. On. Fire.”

Michael thankfully did not continue that statement, which would have been a blatant lie to anyone who knew him. He also clammed up, no longer looking at Tony and instead staring off into the distance.

But it was a relief that Michael had the awareness that he wasn’t fine, even if he kept insisting he was. And maybe on some level he was really fine, but on so many other levels he wasn’t. That was the issue and that was what Tony was trying to finagle here. “There’s something else as well, isn’t there?” he asked, gentling his tone.

Predictably, there was no response. Tony waited several minutes, counting it down, before realizing Michael had said what he was going to. If there was going to be anything else, Tony would have to push a little more. He’d have to give just a bit more. “Is it… ‘I should be better than this’?”

That did get a reaction, Michael immediately looking up at him.

Tony smiled ruefully. “I’ve thought that, too,” he admitted. “There’s a lot of things I should have done differently. A lot of things I failed at because I wasn’t good enough.” He rubbed the side of his neck with his free hand, shrugging loosely. “You’re not the only one to think that, Michael. Not the first and not the last.”

“Isn’t it different?” Michael asked.

Tony didn’t ask what Michael meant by what should be different. Michael’s intention was clear in their link. They may have been angels, may have been other, but that didn’t mean they were infallible. But he didn’t want to just answer him; he wanted Michael to have his own answer. “Who says it is? Who says you should be fine or better?”

Michael tilted his head, something distant crossing his expression for a moment before he looked back at Tony. “Isn’t it expected?” He gestured vaguely between them.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Expected? Bro, since when have I ever done what was expected of me?”

Tony didn’t need to read minds to know that Michael was thinking of answers and coming up with nothing.

“So why can’t you do the same?” Tony pressed. “Because you’re the obedient child? How well has that worked out for you?”

There was no response from Michael, but the non-answer was as good as one for him.

Tony nodded, adding, “It hasn’t worked out for any of us. So throw away ‘should,’ Michael. There’s no ‘should’ in free will. Which is a thing we have. I know I mentioned this to you before.”

“And what of our duties, Gabriel? Like it or not, there are things we can’t lightly abandon even with free will.”

Of course it came back to that. It usually did, though this was a question Gabriel had to deal with before. He nodded, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. But we’ve got all the flexibility in figuring out how we can do those duties. I can do my job just fine here; no reason for me to go back to Heaven to stay. So there’s no reason for you to do whatever you’re doing because you think you should.”

It looked like there was a question on the tip of Michael’s tongue, but what he ended up saying instead was “I don’t know.” He turned away again.

“That’s okay,” Tony said quietly. “You don’t have to. I didn’t either. The only reason I do now is because I’ve been doing this a lot longer.”

A muscle twitched in Michael’s jaw, just about the only sign of frustration Tony could pick up from him. “You’ve had all the time in the world,” he said, no sign of that frustration in his voice. “You don’t seem quite so willing to extend me the same.” It was a very reasonable tone. One which he’d probably used on Raphael.

It would probably have worked on Gabriel before, too, but he had the experience to not believe that tone now.

Tony shot him a sharp look, poking his neck with a finger. “Oh, I know that tone. That’s the whole ‘I’m being very reasonable right now and you better listen to me’ tone.”

“I don’t – I don’t have that tone.”

“You do. It’s also the ‘I’m your big sibling and know better so trust me’ tone.”

There was a frown now, Michael’s lips twisting.

“Unfortunately for you,” Gabriel continued, “that tone stopped working on me a long time ago.”

“Did it.” Michael’s tone was bone dry.

“Oh, it did. You see, I like to be contrary. Tell me one thing, and I’ll do the opposite.”

There was a beat before Michael actually said, “Then don’t go away and don’t give me time.”

It took Gabriel several seconds to actually comprehend that Michael had really just said that, like a petulant child, before he burst into laughter. “Ha! Nice try there, buddy.” He leaned an elbow on Michael’s shoulder, pressing him down slightly. He poked Michael’s cheek. “I raised four kids and took care of multiple others. You’ve got nothing on me in terms of pulling the wool over my eyes.”

There was a rueful smile from Michael here, the smallest quirk of his lips, before it disappeared. He didn’t otherwise react.

Tony refocused, breathing slowly. “My point is,” he said firmly, “that might work on Raphael, but it sure as hell won’t work on me. I mean, sure, we can leave you on your own. Give you all the time you’re asking for and more. But what’s that going to do? Leave you to stew in your thoughts?”

“It worked before,” Michael muttered, still sounding like a petulant child.

Tony had to do his level best not to pinch Michael’s cheek, settling for slinging his arm around Michael’s shoulders and poking his cheek. Not pinching. Poking. The goal wasn’t to piss him off. Ideally he’d do this without holding onto him, but he had the strong suspicion that if he let go Michael would just up and flee and having a conversation like this while running didn’t really work. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Before sucked. Before left you alone. Before led to this mess. There are a lot of things we’re doing now, and we’re doing our best not to repeat our past mistakes.”

Michael shot him a glance before turning away. He didn’t say anything, just drawing in a slow breath. He was still, annoyingly, blank. There was nothing Tony could pick up from him.

“Hey.” Tony tugged him in closer, nagging him. “Talk to me.”

There was just a head shake.

“You were doing well before. What happened?”

Michael didn’t even shake his head, eyes fixed on the grass. It wasn’t even that he was looking at something else off in the distance; his gaze was intent. He was also ignoring Tony to the best of his ability.

Again, Tony was hit with the image of a young Sam, downcast and stubborn and terrified of being rejected. None of his other kids had ever had those moments, except for the gods, but even they’d felt comfortable talking to him.

But he’d gotten through to Sam. He could do the same with Michael.

“Michael.” He tapped Michael’s cheek, repeatedly, until he definitely had Michael’s attention. “I can be very annoying. I can be so annoying. You’re not getting out of this.”

There was an instant of stillness before Michael broke, a frisson of anger sparking through his Grace. He spun on his heel, throwing Tony’s arm off with a burst of unexpected strength. “What’s the point?”

There was a moment of almost-panic before Tony got hold of it. He was very used to pissing off people. Michael could join the ranks. “What’s the point?”

“Yes, Gabriel. What’s the point of this? What exactly is this supposed to do?”

Michael wasn’t going to hurt him. He wasn’t. Tony refocused on Michael, on what he was here to do. “The point is to get it through that you’re not alone and you don’t have to deal with things by yourself. You don’t have to bottle it up. You don’t have to hide.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Think I can’t see it? Think I haven’t seen it on others? I don’t know what you’re hiding there, but I know it’s not anything pleasant. I know that it’s not something you should deal with alone.”

“There’s no should in free will,” Michael said, irritating the fuck out of Tony and eerily sounding exactly like a mulish teenage Sam.

Tony winced, groaning, rubbing a hand over his face. “Of course that’s what you take away from this,” he muttered into his hand. He dragged in a long breath, doing his best to quell the frustration, the grief, because that wasn’t going to be helpful here. They were back to “should.” Fine. He could use that. “Who says you should deal with it alone, Michael?”

There was no verbal response, but Michael’s Grace flickered. It wasn’t steady. Michael’s jaw clenched, and he took in a breath that seemed to steady his Grace.

Tony stepped in closer, only for Michael to take a step back. Tony didn’t take another step but instead leaned in. He wasn’t going to let this go. “Who, Michael?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Michael’s tone was flat.

“Spell it out to me like I’m five.”

Michael’s frown was confused now. “You’re not five.”

Fine, he’d give Michael that. “Irrelevant. Pretend I’m a human kid and need small words.”

Michael swallowed, pulling in another breath that steadied the tell-tale flickering of his Grace.

“No.” Tony just restrained himself from reaching out, thinking that it might actually break something. “No. You’re not hiding.”

“You don’t need to see this,” Michael ground out. “None of you do. This isn’t your responsibility. It’s not your responsibility to deal with my mess.” His Grace flickered but it wasn’t enough for Tony to pick up what Michael was hiding.

They were back to responsibility. Something else Michael had brought up to Samael. “Then this isn’t something dear old Dad told you to do, is it?” he asked softly.

“He told me to protect you,” Michael said. “He told me to protect all of you. You know how well I succeeded with that.”

“And this is protecting us?” Tony gestured to all of Michael.

“My mess is my own. It’s not yours to take on.”

“Then whose is it?” Tony waved around wildly at the trees around them. “Samael? You can’t even stay in the same room as nem. Raphael? You sent her away. Gadreel? Balthazar? Castiel? You can’t even look any of our other siblings in the eye. Just who is supposed to help you take this on?”

“No one is,” Michael snapped.

“Because it’s your weight alone?”

“Yes.”

Oh, fuck it. This was going round in circles. This was so incredibly frustrating that Tony felt bad for Michael’s friends for having had to deal with this for years on end. The even more frustrating piece was that despite Tony’s own aggravation at having to deal with Michael stonewalling, he also got it. That was even more ridiculous.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Tony dragged a hand over his face and through his hair. “Ugh, I hear you and I hear myself and I can’t believe no one punched me in the face.” He was sure Rhodey had come close to it at times. Natasha would have just stabbed him. But he couldn’t just leave this. “Michael. I know your friends wouldn’t have let you keep thinking this. They certainly reamed us out for leaving you alone.”

There was a flicker over Michael’s face now, something resignedly fond.

“It’s not a weight you should bear yourself,” Tony said, gentling his tone slightly. “None of this ever should have been. And I know…I know bridges have been burned that may not be rebuilt. I know what I’m asking you to do isn’t easy. I know that.” This wasn’t pain easy to share; this wasn’t a weight one felt comfortable sharing, not when sharing it made one vulnerable. His throat ached, and he winced, rubbing over it briefly. He didn’t meet Michael’s eyes, struggling with this next piece. He had to – had to if this was going to work. For Michael to even feel comfortable sharing with someone he saw as a little brother. “I…I was so ashamed that I had to rely on Gadreel. That because of my weakness, he had to shoulder my pain and figure out what to do.”

A flicker ran through Michael’s Grace, something darkening it. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t your fault.”

Tony smiled weakly. “Maybe not. My choices led me to that position, and I’d do it again. I would.” That scar still ached, partly phantom, partly actual pain. He rubbed over his throat once more before dropping his hand.

“I wouldn’t.” Michael looked slightly startled at the admission.

Tony’s next smile was a little wry. “But you can’t go back. You can’t go back, can’t change what happened, so what’s the point? You – Michael – everything that happened, it wasn’t just you. I made my choices. Samael made nir own. And Raphael made her bed and lay down in it. We all did. What happened wasn’t just on you. It’s not just your weight, and even if it were, let us share it with you.” Tony extended a hand. “Let me share it. No one else is here; no one else is looking. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? The others watching? Judging? They won’t; they can’t. It’s just us. And, Michael, I’m not. I’ve been there. I get it. I really, really do.” He’d tried to make that clear; he didn’t know how much clearer he could make it. “And if I have to keep you here until it gets through your damn head, I will keep you here because it’s gone on long enough.”

There was no response for a long moment, but Michael wasn’t shutting down. He was studying Tony intently, likely once more gauging his sincerity. It was all he was going to find.

Tony didn’t move, keeping his hand outstretched in that figurative and literal offer to help. He just hoped Michael was going to take it because he was almost out of ideas at this point beyond chucking Samael at his head to see if something blew up.

“And if it’s my choice not to?” Michael asked eventually, quiet. “Would you take that from me?”

Oh, that sucked. Tony twisted his mouth, pulling back slightly. Michael’s face was still unreadable, as was his Grace.

This was the awful piece for free will. That while he could disagree with someone else’s choice, that was still their choice to make. Even if it was a fucking stupid one.

Tony considered his options here, what to say that wouldn’t give Michael a clear out. “If you can tell me honestly, openly, that you’re choosing it because you absolutely want to, and not because you think you should. Only then, Michael.”

Michael wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of that quite so easily as with English. It was the last card he had to play here.

And it seemed to make Michael stop, something else flickering over his face and his Grace. He swallowed, his next breath shaky and loud to Tony’s ears.

“Can you?” Tony asked.

Michael seemed mute, staring blankly at him. There was something else about him now, something that was almost difficult to pin down but seemed…heavy. It was an unbearably long moment later when Michael shook his head.

Oh, thank the universe. He relaxed slightly, stepping closer, relieved when Michael stayed in place. “I’m here, sibling.”

“You don’t want to be,” Michael whispered. “I don’t.”

Wasn’t that a familiar sentiment? Not wanting to be stuck in his own skin – his own Grace? But for all they could jump vessels, they couldn’t stop being themselves. Not really. Gabriel gave Michael a wry smile. “No one can make me do anything I don’t want to. You certainly never could, no matter how much you tried. I’m here because I want to be.”

Michael didn’t respond, but Gabriel hadn’t expected one. He also didn’t move, which was another positive. He hadn’t looked away from Gabriel. That heavy sensation was still around him, just…lingering.

“Trust me,” Gabriel said, half-pleading. He extended his hand once more. “Trust me as your equal.” He wasn’t Samael; he wasn’t even Raphael. He had to hope that just being him would be enough.

Michael didn’t take his hand, but something else shifted as he breathed, his attention moving from Gabriel to something else – something inside him.

There was no physical movement, but they didn’t need to move to see each other. And Michael’s Grace – his true form – was motionless, no change but for something that had Gabriel on the edge because he could tell he was trying.

Tension seeped into Michael, his vessel’s shoulders tightening and his breathing quickening.

“Relax,” Gabriel murmured, keeping his tone as calm and gentle as he could. They had time for this. This wasn’t going to happen quickly, not if Michael had kept himself this tightly controlled for so long. “It’s okay. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Take your time.”

Michael’s next breath was shaky, sharp grief hitting Gabriel with all the force of a spaceship. It was there for a moment before disappearing, Michael hiding it, but there was panic now, too.

“It’s okay.” Gabriel kept his voice calm, soothing. “I’m here. You can let it out.” He didn’t physically reach out but did send reassurance towards Michael, hoping it would help.

Michael’s flinch was both physical and with his Grace. He reeled back from Gabriel, still panicky, wildly uncontrolled in a way Gabriel had never seen before. And yet, in that brief touch, Gabriel knew it wasn’t something he deserved, it wasn’t okay, why did he need that?

Gabriel stepped in closer, reaching out to try and steady Michael, but Michael took another step back, and this seemed instinctive, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

There was a dull burst of aching pain that hit Gabriel in the chest. He winced, his own Grace aching in sympathetic pain. He couldn’t even fully tell what it was, only there was grief there, before it was gone as Michael clearly attempted to pull it back.

“It’s okay, Michael,” Gabriel murmured, though he wasn’t sure how much Michael was registering or even processing right now. But he could at least make this as reassuring as possible, make sure Michael knew he wasn’t alone. “You’re not alone; I’m here. Let it out; you’re doing great. You’re doing so great.”

He thought he was better prepared this time for reaching out to reassure Michael, but the gut-wrenching grief, loathing, disgust, disappointment that hit him left him almost gasping. And there was more. There was so much more that hadn’t yet come out yet and the grass was browning at Michael’s feet and the earth cracking ominously, the trees shaking and groaning as their bark split.

Asgard was not going to make it if this continued. The only reason Gabriel was still as fine as he was could be attributed to his new position.

Gabriel reached out again, this time to gently take hold of Michael so they could leave Asgard. He met instant resistance (too gentle, too gentle, not for him), Michael flailing and struggling and it was only because Gabriel technically didn’t need to fly anymore that they even made it off Asgard to begin with before he lost his grip and Michael crash-landed on a planet.

Well, he wasn’t about to hurt Michael and with how Michael had struggled, he would have needed to hurt him to restrain him.

Gabriel landed a split-second after Michael did and was hit with blazing anger that felt like a Wolf-Rayet star at its hottest, barely bracing through it before he was choking on acidic and sharp guilt.

It wasn’t anger at others. It was anger at himself, and that was terrifying.

Michael didn’t think he deserved gentleness. He didn’t think he deserved sympathy. He thought he deserved the pain.

And that – that was – no. Fuck it, Gabriel muttered. You’re going to like this and take this.

He reached out again, making sure to keep it as gentle as possible because Michael did deserve that, and this time he held on tightly and didn’t let go. He pulled Michael into him, hugging him physically and wrapping himself around his Grace.

The exhaustion was next, so unbearably heavy and awful that Gabriel really did just feel like lying down and not getting up. He could scarcely find the energy to breathe for air, though that wasn’t altogether bad considering how awful this planet’s air was. It didn’t disappear, magnified by feelings of utter helplessness and hopelessness that he was worthless, wrong, it was all because of him.

The earth around him cracked, but Gabriel wrapped himself around Michael further, making sure it wouldn’t affect the planet. He buffeted the anguished energy from Michael’s Grace, breathing through the slight sparks of pain in his own as the heat scorched him; it was far more bearable than it had been before, and this was manageable.

At least Michael wasn’t pulling away anymore. He was holding Gabriel back tightly, burrowing into his Grace and thankfully no longer rejecting the reassurance. His vessel had also gotten the memo, arms wrapped around Gabriel’s stomach.

The exhaustion still soaked into Gabriel and he had trouble seeing how Michael even had the energy for anything with that always dragging him down. The self-loathing, though… Yeah, that tracked; it was more familiar.

Thankfully that was the last of it. The grief, self-loathing, anger, guilt, disappointment, exhaustion… There wasn’t anything else that came out from behind the discarded mask.

Michael still didn’t seem to entirely have awareness of where he was or who he was with, just clinging and shuddering. It was almost frightening, but Gabriel had asked for this and this was what he wanted. He just stayed still, holding onto him.

A volcano erupted in the distance, the earth rumbling beneath their bodies in a pattern that was solely the planet’s. He was not going to get the stench of sulfur out of his clothing anytime soon unless he cheated.

There was another eruption closer to them and a minor earthquake before Michael jolted back into proper awareness, shuddering and whining in the back of his throat. He was panicking now, Grace writhing against Gabriel’s (too much, too much, hide it).

Hush, Gabriel said quietly, not letting him go. Breathe. It had worked well enough for Michael before. Focus on that.

Michael did breathe, though he struggled and choked on the toxic air of the planet. He didn’t quite seem to have the fine control necessary to breathe and heal the damage to his lungs so clearly gave up and just held his vessel in stasis. He felt vaguely reproachful.

Yeah, that was definitely Gabriel’s bad. Sorry. Not my first choice but you didn’t give me a whole lot of options.

Michael didn’t respond, but Gabriel wasn’t surprised given the level of exhaustion he was still picking up off Michael. But he was so much more open, everything clear for Gabriel to read if he wanted. And like this, pressed close, it wasn’t even an option. It just was.

And the protest from Michael was as clear as day.

Gabriel laughed, then regretted it when the air scraped against his own throat and lungs. Hey, I was all for taking you somewhere else but you ejected early. So…here’s where we’re at.

Michael didn’t physically move but Gabriel could feel him evaluating their surroundings.

He rubbed a hand over Michael’s back, watching the dust wipe off the black fabric of the robes he continued to wear. He did the same with Michael’s Grace, though Michael shrank back from that, radiating shame and guilt.

No, they weren’t going to deal with that. Hey. Look at me. Do you see any pity?

Michael had a similar connection with Gabriel’s Grace given how they were pressed together. He would definitely notice pity, and that was the last thing Gabriel felt for him. There was no pity.

There was a silent negative from Michael, along with a cut off but that Gabriel knew the rest to.

You deserve this, Gabriel said flatly, firm. Get that out of your head. You do.

Michael’s response was to pull back. He didn’t let go of Gabriel, but his Grace withdrew slightly. He seemed to be trying to regain some of the stability he’d shed, though it wasn’t quite working.

Gabriel could feel him shaking where he was lying in his lap. He rubbed over Michael’s back again. You don’t have to hide, he said reassuringly. Not from me. I’ve already seen it all, and I don’t care. Wait, he might take that the wrong way. Well, I do care, but I don’t care that you’re feeling that way. No, shit. No, I do, but not in a way that’s bad. I mean that it’s okay for you to feel that way and I don’t care if you show it. Michael wasn’t laughing but he seemed close to it. Hey, stop laughing!

The sense of laughter didn’t fade, the amusement warm and fond.

It was catching, Gabriel laughing now despite the earlier experience with this planet’s air. Stop it. You know what I mean. There’s no need to hide here. Not from me.

He only knew Michael heard him because of how he no longer attempted to shy away from Gabriel. He just lay there, letting Gabriel hold him.

Which was great. Gabriel didn’t want to disturb him, but this was the wrong sort of planet for something like this. He did let it be for now, until the constant erupting of volcanoes was all he could hear and would likely continue to hear for the foreseeable future. C’mon. Let me take you somewhere better.

It took a while for any kind of answer from Michael, but eventually he had one, and Gabriel shifted them to the planet he’d selected. It was nice and verdant, moist and rich. The sound of water bubbling filled the background, which was nice compared to the last planet.

Gabriel rubbed over Michael’s shoulders. “Try breathing now. Should be decidedly less toxic.”

It took a minute before Michael did start breathing, restarting his body’s biological processes. He otherwise didn’t move, just breathing and existing.

It wasn’t quite so terrifying anymore, seeing Michael like this. It was almost a relief, because this seemed more like Michael than he’d ever been before. And Gabriel wanted him to stay like this, open and not closed off and hurting.

Maybe he could be.

There were a lot of things that seemed possible now.

[dsafenthusiast]

Random bonus Scene of the previous ask

I officially shall confirm that Legacy and 🖤 Anon are MARRIED!

Legacy!Jack: "WHAT- NO- NO!-

Jack and Dave: *fucking laughing*

[kitsmits]

Mono no Aware Bonus Scene!

25.5: “Plans and Purple Elephants”

This is a scene I originally wrote to include either in Chapter 25 or 27, but it didn’t really fit tonally in either. However, I still really like the scene and it does establish the start of some important character dynamics, so here it is! Enjoy :)

There was something strange happening.

Earlier that day, Sorano Kaede had arrived at Urahara Shoten bearing something entirely unexpected: food. Hot, homemade food. Ikkaku and Yumichika trailed in after her, arms laden with bowls and plates; they must have been on Kaede-watching duty, something Renji was glad to be exempted from on account of his training with Chad.

“Thought we could all use a pick-me-up for training,” she explained, directing Ikkaku and Yumichika to lay everything out. The smells alone drew Renji closer, despite his wariness of the woman. Everything just smelled…irresistible. There was some sort of shredded meat, still steaming and coated in a spicy sauce; fresh chopped vegetables and herbs; and was that rice yellow?

“Are those….tortillas?”

Renji nearly jumped at the sound of Chad’s voice behind him. Kaede looked up at the tall teen and smiled. “Yes - flour, not corn, I’m afraid. I couldn’t get the masa here.”

Chad’s eyes were wide under his thick bangs. “You made all of this?”

“Well, I couldn’t really sleep last night,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shrug. “And to be honest, I get kind of bored with Japanese cuisine after a week or so. Guess I’m just used to spicier food.”

“I haven’t had fresh tortillas in years,” Chad said, looking at the food like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Not since I left Mexico.”

Kaede’s brows shot up. “¿Eres de México?”

Chad blinked in surprise. “Crecí allí. ¿Tú hablas español?”

That was when the weirdness really began. Renji looked on, growing ever more perplexed as the two spoke with mounting enthusiasm. He couldn’t believe his eyes, much less his ears; Chad had said more in the past couple minutes than Renji had heard, well, ever. Not only that…“The hell are they even talking about?”

“Beats me,” Ikkaku said through a mouthful. Clearly, he had no qualms about eating food made by Aizen Sousuke’s freakin’ wife. “Sounds like gibberish.”

“It’s Spanish,” Yumichika said with an exasperated sigh. “And they’re talking about some festival called the ‘Days of the Dead.’ Apparently, it’s coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“They have festivals for the dead? That’s creepy.”

“Says the Shinigami,” Yumichika retorted. “It makes sense, though; death is a universal truth, even for us.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Renji conceded. Then something hit him. “Wait - how do you understand what they’re saying?”

“Because unlike some,” Yumichika answered, delicately picking at a tortilla, “I actually listen. You’d understand them too if you just opened your ears a bit. Shinigami don’t have language barriers; technically, we aren’t even speaking Japanese right now, it just seems like we are because it’s the predominant language for the Humans around us.”

“Wait, we can do that?” Ikkaku scratched his shaved crown. “I had no idea…”

“More like you just never noticed it before,” Yumichika corrected. “Also, the food is perfectly safe. I watched her make everything. It’s a bit spicy for my taste though, and far from what I’d call ‘aesthetically pleasing.’ The appearance alone puts me off.”

“I think I’ll pass, then,” Renji grumbled even as his stomach did the same. “Not a fan of spicy stuff.”

“More for me,” Ikkaku said, though it was barely intelligible as he shoveled a filled tortilla into his mouth.

As Ikkaku continued to stuff his face and Yumichika continued to sit and watch, Renji decided to pay more attention to the conversation between Chad and their mysterious new ally. At first, their speech continued to sound like fast-paced gibberish, but with a little concentration, Renji started to make out the words between the two of them.

“…have to show you some photos I took the last time I was there,” Kaede was saying. “They came out beautifully, if I do say so myself! I always found it fascinating that the calaveras for el Dia de los Muertos resemble skulls - kind of like Hollow masks, don’t you think?”

”I never considered that,” Chad admitted.

“Makes me wonder if at some point, people were more aware of Hollows’ existence around them, you know?” She smiled. “Or they’re just another classic ‘memento mori,’ and I’m thinking too much about it!”

”I haven’t seen a Dia de los Muertos celebration in years,” Chad reflected.

“Do you miss it? Mexico?”

“Sometimes. Mexico is a beautiful country, and it's where I made all of the memories I have of my Abuelo. But if I hadn't come back to Japan, I would never have met Ichigo, Inoue, and Ishida, and I probably would have never gained the powers that allow me to fight alongside them. I wouldn't trade that for anything.”

Kaede’s smile turned wistful, even sad. “I can get that.”

“What’s going on here?”

Renji, Ikkaku, and Yumichika spun around to attention at the sound of Hitsugaya’s disapproving voice.

“S’e bwa foo,” Ikkaku tried to explain with his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s.

“Ooo, what kind of food is that?” Matsumoto asked at the same time, darting around her captain with an excited smile.

A vein visibly throbbed in Hitsugaya’s forehead. “How many times do I have to say it? This is a meeting to discuss Aizen Sousuke, not a dinner party!”

“Pretty sure you only said that once,” Renji pointed out. “Just now.”

“Well, I think all meetings would be better with a meal,” Matsumoto declared, already armed with a full tortilla. She took a bite and moaned, her eyes rolling up into her head. “It’s so good!”

“I hope I haven’t offended you, captain,” Kaede herself said, turning from her conversation with Chad. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone, since our first meeting was…what it was.”

“An’ you can’t train on an empty stomach,” Ikkaku added while reaching for another tortilla. Yumichika slapped his hand away. “Ow! What’s that for?!”

“Save some for others,” Yumichika admonished.

“Why? You aren’t eating any of it!”

“Are Inoue-san and Kuchiki-san joining us?” Kaede asked, ignoring the Shinigami squabbling over her food.

Renji almost answered, but caught himself. He didn’t care if this woman brought a whole tray of taiyaki to win them over; he wasn’t about to divulge Rukia’s whereabouts to Aizen Sousuke’s wife.

Someone else did that for him.

“Oh, Inoue-san and Kuchiki-san went to Soul Society last night,” Urahara announced, sauntering over with his fan in one hand and cane in the other. “I believe they plan to train together at the 13th Division’s grounds.”

Renji wanted to strangle the man. That was privileged information, and he was just declaring it willy-nilly in front of an associate of their enemy?! Sure, Urahara claimed she was a former associate, but when it came to Aizen, Renji had learned not to trust anything on the surface. He remembered that day on Sokyoku Hill all too well, still saw Aizen’s hand puncturing Rukia’s chest in his nightmares.

He was about to give the hat-wearing man a piece of his mind when he spied the look on Hitsugaya-taicho’s face. The diminutive captain was positively glaring at Sorano Kaede - well, Renji was pretty sure that was a glare; he wasn’t overly familiar with the range of Hitsugaya’s expressions. The captain squared his shoulders and walked over to the woman with such deliberation that everyone around them had stopped speaking. Sorano Kaede watched him with a look of resignation, like she was expecting whatever dressing-down he was surely about to give her.

He stopped a few feet away from her - and bowed.

“Sorano Kaede,” Hitsugaya began in a formal tone, “please allow me to apologize for my behavior the last time we met. There was no reason for me to attack you out of malice.”

Renji’s eyes went wide as saucers. This was turning out to be a weird day. He wasn’t the only one surprised; Yumichika’s tailored brows had risen, and even Ikkaku had paused mid-bite. Only Matsumoto didn’t seem overly shocked by the scene, a small, affectionate smile on her face as she watched her captain’s actions.

Kaede’s face was difficult to read at first. She seemed surprised as well, but there was something deeper to it, something Renji couldn’t quite place but that resonated with him nonetheless. Then her eyes softened, and she lowered her own head.

“You have every reason not to trust me,” she said. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I do appreciate you doing so, and the humility and self-awareness it takes. Your division is lucky to have you as their captain. I’ll do my best to be the asset I promised to be.”

She bowed back to Hitsugaya, and when she straightened back up again, she smiled. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, would you care for a tortilla? There's plenty of food left to go around."

"No, thank you," Hitsugaya replied stiffly, although Renji thought he could detect a bit of reluctance in the child-sized Captain's tone. "I'd prefer we all begin talking strategy as soon as possible. We're on a deadline."

"That is true." Kaede began resealing the containers. "The food will still be here when we finish."

"Ugh, but I'm still hungry!" Ikkaku complained loudly; even so, he shoved the last of his second tortilla into his mouth and stood up.

“As we are all aware,” Hitsugaya began once they'd all gathered in Urahara's small back room, “we only have an estimated three months before the Hogyoku awakens fully and Aizen comes to destroy this town. Considering the vastness of his reiatsu alone outclasses nearly every Shinigami in Soul Society, it is essential that we spend what little time we have honing our individual skills to as high a level as possible and preparing strategies that will give us the best odds of defeating him. To that end,” Hitsugaya's eyes slid to Sorano Kaede's, who sat directly across from him, “we require all the information you have on his abilities, especially in regards to his Shikai, Kyoka Suigetsu.”

Kaede met Hitsugaya's gaze evenly. “What do you know about it so far?”

”That he can create illusions that trick all five senses,” the young captain answered, “and that you only need to see it once to be affected.”

”That’s…well, it’s partially correct,” she conceded with a small frown. “But it’s not that he creates illusions; it’s called kanzen saimin, perfect hypnosis, because it relies on the power of suggestion.”

Ikkaku scratched his head, his brows forming a deep crease in his forehead. “So…like…does he make you see things, or does he…what the hell does he actually do, then?”

She sighed. “Purple elephants.”

“….eh?”

“What are you thinking of right now?”

Ikkaku blinked. “Well…purple elephants, I guess…”

“Are there any in this room?”

“No!”

“But could there be?”

“I mean - no! They wouldn’t even fit!”

“But now you’re imagining that there are purple elephants in this room.”

“Of course I am! You keep talking about it!”

“That’s the power of suggestion,” she said. “If I were using Kyoka Suigetsu right now, you’d actually see purple elephants in the room, exactly as you’re seeing them in your mind now. And it wouldn’t just be sight: You’d smell them, hear them, you’d even be able to touch them. Every sense you have would tell you that there are purple elephants in this room right now, no matter how illogical that idea is. That is what Kyoka Suigetsu does: it tricks your senses. But in order for it to do that, you have to have the idea in your mind in the first place.”

“Okay,” Ikkaku shrugged. “So…I just don’t think about purple elephants.”

Kaede shrugged. “Okay. Then don’t think about a shirtless Yamamoto, either.”

“Wha - ugh!” Ikkaku doubled over, clutching his bald head as though in pain. “Why the hell would you - I can’t stop thinking about that now! Agh, I need to bleach my brain!”

Hitsugaya grimaced, unable to stop his own mind from conjuring an image of the head captain without a shirt. “Okay. We get it.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I hear that Unohana-“

“Yes! We get it!” Hitsugaya crossed his arms. “So how do we counter it?”

“You don’t,” Kaede answered bluntly. “Or rather, you can’t. You’ve all been exposed to it at one point or another, right? You’ve all seen his Shikai release?”

“I haven’t.”

Renji started a bit at the sound of Chad’s voice again. For such a large, imposing figure, the teen was way too easy to overlook. Then he blinked, realizing what Chad had just said. “That’s right - you never saw him release his Shikai, and neither did Ichigo or Orihime! So we just have to make sure none of you see it!”

“And what do you expect that to do?” Kaede countered. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but if you think Kyoka Suigetsu is the only thing to worry about, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Renji’s brow twitched with annoyance. “Then why don’t you tell us something useful for a change, instead o’ just telling us how wrong we are about everything?”

She sighed. “It’s not just a matter of closing your eyes when you hear him say ‘Shatter.’ He can release Shikai without the incantation, so you’d have to close your eyes every time he draws his sword. Not exactly practical in an active fight. And if you think that you’d have the upper hand by simply avoiding the hypnosis, you’re again mistaken. Remember that every Shinigami fighting at your side is already under its thrall - and he doesn’t have to reactivate Shikai in order to use it on them.”

A chill hit Renji like a sudden cold front as her words sank in. “Wait…you’re saying that he can use that power without releasing his Zanpakuto? Just because we’ve already seen it?”

”That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replied.

He wasn’t the only one shaken by this; even Hitsugaya had gone a little pale, though he tried to keep his stoic facade. “Even so…battles are decided by reiatsu. The full force of the Gotei, even just the captains and lieutenants…we’d dwarf him. He can’t control all of us at once, no one has that kind of reiatsu volume or control.”

“First of all,” Kaede said, holding up a finger, “he can, and he does. Back when we were…together, he was able to trick the senses of captains and lieutenant-class Shinigami from a wide distance. Once the suggestion’s been planted, it’s just a matter of spending a little more reiatsu to keep it active, and he’s got more than enough to spare. Second, Kyoka Suigetsu isn’t the most dangerous thing you’ll face from him.”

”You mean the Arrancar?” Hitsugaya asked. “They’re strong, but if we fight without limiters-“

”I don’t mean the Arrancar,” she said with a shake of her head. “And I don’t mean his own battle skills, either. It’s the mind games.”

A shadow came over her eyes as she spoke. “He will get inside your head - in fact, he already has, in one way or another. If you have any sort of grudge against him, he will use it to misdirect your gaze. If you have any fears about facing him, he will use them to psyche you out. He will rile you up to make you reckless, and in the next breath, he will make you feel overconfident or hopeful. He will use your own comrades against you, and even if you realize what’s happening in real time, there will be nothing you can do about it. You can’t warn them, or vice versa, because he’ll make it so you can’t hear each other’s words or see each other’s signals. You can’t even be certain of who you’re really fighting; all it takes is a bit of misdirection to alter your perspective.”

Cold dread sank low in Renji’s stomach. He hadn’t considered the full breadth of Aizen’s abilities; even having felt the man’s monstrous reiatsu, he couldn’t imagine the scale of power Kaede was describing.

But it seemed she wasn’t finished. “It’s not just that he can manipulate your senses; he can, and will, manipulate your mind and your feelings, and that, he can do without a Zanpakuto. For him, it isn’t enough to simply defeat an enemy physically; he wants to break you down psychologically first, shattering your sense of self, security, and sanity before he ever strikes your body.”

Something about the way she spoke chilled Renji to the bone, and not just because of the scenarios it put in his mind. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Matsumoto spoke up then, her voice almost uncharacteristically quiet and reflective. “Is that what he did to you?”

That. That was what Renji couldn’t put his finger on. The way Kaede spoke of Aizen wasn’t just as someone experienced in working with him; from the sound of it, she’d been on the receiving end, too.

“I thought you said you weren’t deceived by him,” he pointed out, trying to wrap his mind around these new, conflicting bits of information.

It was Urahara who responded, speaking so low and with such ice that, for a moment, Renji didn’t recognize the shopkeeper. “Deception isn’t the only way to manipulate someone.”

“The point is,” Kaede plowed forward, “it’s not something you can just train for. There are a few people among the Gotei who might be able to counter his reiatsu, but he will have planned for that. He always has a plan.”

“Which is why keeping Kaede secret is so important,” Urahara interjected. “You all focus on preparing for the battle you can fight: the Arrancar. We will deal with Aizen Sousuke.”

[mystical-blaise]

Sorry it took so long, but...

Heart of the Matter Elucien Bonus Scene is finally up!