#seventh year: reconciliations

[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.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Moonlight - T. R. x werewolf fem!reader

A/N: this is the seventh part of this series. It’s mostly unedited so please be nice 💛 No use of Y/N. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰

Series Masterlist

CW: some swearing, an argument with Tom, mentions of smelling emotions, implied cheating, Hermione being furious on our behalf, implied bullying, talk of revenge

1019 words

“Riddle!” You chase after Tom. “Riddle! Wait, please!”

Tom doesn’t slow as he strides angrily away.

“Riddle!” Your voice is filled with the strange desperation thrumming in your chest. You know it somehow, deep in your bones. This is your last chance for reconciliation.

“Tom!” You shout as loud as you can. “Please, I’m sorry!”

All the students in the hallway stop and look at you. Tom stops walking.

He turns around and advances on you. You panic. The anger in his gaze makes you cower. “I’m sorry—”

Tom grabs your arm and forcefully hauls you into the closest classroom. He slams the door shut, blocking you two from the prying eyes and ears of the other students.

You shrink back away from him. The classroom is empty, and you move towards one of the desks. Tom turns around before you can sit down. He crosses his arms, glaring at you.

You swallow thickly. Your voice comes out a bit weak. “I really am sorry.”

His expression doesn’t change.

You look down, trying to think of what to say. Of how to apologize.

“I’m sorry for missing our trip to Hogsmeade,” you say quietly.

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Why’d you miss it?” Tom’s voice is cold and clipped.

“I was sick. My roommate made me go to the Hospital Wing.” Your voice sours at the mention of your roommate.

Tom scoffs. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“She was supposed to tell you.” You say. Even the memory makes your stomach twist from your roommate’s betrayal.

Tom falls silent. He studies you, gaze intense and dark. He’s not quite glaring anymore, but you can still smell his anger.

“And Diggory?” He asks.

You blink, a little confused. “He asked to study with me.”

Tom’s eyes narrow. “That’s it?”

You nod. “I thought…” You hesitate for a moment. “I thought you didn’t want to be my study partner anymore… so I said yes to him.”

“And the flirting?” His voice is icy.

You’re confused for a moment. Flirting? Then you think about it. You had been laughing and having a good time with Cedric. Maybe that’s what Tom meant.

“We were just talking. My roommate…” You stop. You don’t want to talk about her anymore. “Cedric was cheering me up. That’s all.”

Tom’s glare slowly softens. He looks away and uncrosses his arms. “You didn’t answer him. When he said we were over.”

You blink. You weren’t sure what he meant by over, but you didn’t want it to be true. “Are we?” You ask tentatively.

He exhales, looking back over at you. “Do you want to be?” There’s so much charge behind his gaze, so much emotion you can’t identify. You can smell his hope though.

“No.” You say it firmly; no hint of doubt. Whatever you have going on with him, you want it to continue.

A faint smile tugs at Tom’s lips. It makes your heart thrill.

After a moment, he speaks up again. “I don’t… I don’t mind if you study with Diggory. Just…” He looks conflicted.

“I won’t flirt with him,” you say softly. And you mean it. Cedric has been your crush for years, but looking at Tom right now…

He relaxes. Smiles. “Thank you.”

You let out a soft breath of relief. “So we’re good then?”

Tom chuckles lightly and nods. “Yes. We’re good.”

You smile back. Good. You’ve never been so happy to hear it.

The rest of your day goes smoothly until dinner. Your roommate sits with someone else, occasionally shooting you dirty looks as you eat. Eventually, you get too upset by it and you go sit with Hermione instead.

She looks surprised to see you, but her surprise turns to anger on your behalf once you explain.

“That bitch!” She hisses. Your jaw drops. “‘Mione!” You’ve never heard her swear before. You’re glad she’s taking your side though.

“What?” Hermione crosses her arms. “She probably orchestrated the whole ordeal. Fred and George sell their nasty prank sweets, you know. She could’ve slipped you some quite easily.”

You hesitate at this. Surely your roommate wouldn’t go that far…

But you had eaten some sweets the night before you’d gotten sick. And it had been your roommate who’d insisted you’d gone to the Hospital Wing.

Your stomach sinks. “You don’t think she would… right?”

Hermione looks grim. “I wouldn’t put anything past that conniving sneak. She’s been one of Riddle’s fangirls for a couple years now.”

You blink. “Tom has fangirls?”

She pauses to smirk at you. “Tom, huh?”

You blush and look away. “The fangirls, ‘Mione.”

Her expression turns serious again. “He’s had fangirls for years. How have you never noticed? They’ve hated you since you started studying with him.”

You think about that. You remember some fourth years last year giving you dirty looks in the hall… and some sixth years tripping you earlier this year…

You’d never really paid attention to them. After Umbridge, you’d just assumed they’d been after you for your lycanthropy.

“Oh. Huh.” You rest your chin on your palm. “I never really noticed them before.”

“Well,” Hermione pats your shoulder. “Regardless, your roommate’s one of them. Given how ridiculous they act around him, I wouldn’t put it past her to go to such lengths. You’re lucky she didn’t try to poison you or something.”

“I guess so…” You sigh and look down. “What am I going to do about her, ‘Mione?”

She gives you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of it.”

You relax… until you remember that Hermione’s one of the most vindictive witches in the school. You give her an anxious look. “You won’t hurt her, right?”

Hermione’s smile turns into a mean smirk.

“‘Mione?” You’re a little scared on your roommate’s behalf. Only a little though. She did betray you, after all.

“I won’t physically hurt her,” Hermione promises.

You’re not reassured. “But mentally?”

Hermione shrugs. “That’s fair game. I’ll only dish out what she deserves.”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

She smiles, and you both go back to eating your dinner.

[piizunn]

september 30th, 2023

People who are not First Nations, Métis, or Inuit will never know the sickening feeling of finding out the playground you used to go to is the site of a former residential school, a school still in use by the town of Fort Smith, NWT.

fig. 1. Joseph Burr Tyrrell Elementary School in Fort Smith. Sarah Pruys/Cabin Radio.

First, I’d like to make clear that to my knowledge none of my my immediate family members are residential school survivors, I share community and space with many people who are and I personally attended the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and I will only be speaking on my own experiences. I descend from 7 historic Métis Otipemisiwak families by the names of Berthelet, Caron, St. Germain, Larivière, Dazé, Dubois, and Boudreau, who come from the historic Red River Settlement and Batoche. I come from Amiskwaciywâskahikan, Treaty 6 and I now make my home in Mohkinstsis on Treaty 7 land. I introduce myself in this traditional way of the Métis Otipemisiwak to contextualize my knowledge and experiences, honour my family, and situate myself on this land and in this conversation.

Today is Orange Shirt Day, a day that honours Phyllis Webstad, member of Stswecem’c Xgat’tem First Nation (Canoe Creek Indian Band), and survivor of the Residential School system. Her story is what has inspired this national day of honour and action. Beyond wearing orange I would like non-Indigenous settlers to really consider the history around them and the experiences of survivors and those who lost their lives. I would like you to physically step up for us, be there for us when we are being beaten down, sit with Elders and listen to their stories, learn about their joy as well their pain.

I attended Grandin School, an elementary school in Amiskwaciywâskahikan (Edmonton, Alberta) before it was renamed to Holy Child. For anyone outside of the area I will describe it; the school is over one hundred years old in a historic neighbourhood. Near the school is an LRT station underground and on one side of the platform was a large mural depicting Bishop Grandin, a nun holding a native child, an Indigenous family at camp, and a residential school. Based on the fact that Bishop Grandin spent time working in Saint-Boniface of the Red River Settlement, Fort Chipewyan in what is now Alberta, and Île-à-la-Crosse in what is now Saskatchewan, it can be assumed that the family is either First Nations or Métis, however it must not be forgotten that the Inuit of the north also suffered these institutions.

A quote from Bishop Vital Grandin haunts me to this day, more now than ever.

“We instil in them a pronounced distaste for the native life so that they will be humiliated when reminded of their origin. When they graduate from our institutions, the children have lost everything Native except their blood.”

- Bishop Vital Grandin, 1875

Fig. 2. “A mural depicting Bishop Grandin at an Indian Residential School is located at the Grandin LRT Station in Edmonton.” Image courtesy of Jake Cardinal and Alberta Native News.

I remember teachers taking us to the Is platform to sse the murals but it was not a critical conversation they were very much pro church and viewed residential schools from a sinister paternalistic perspective.

The mural was eventually covered up but the narrative in grandin elementary was that they were "helping native families. I remember inside the school by the main stairwell there was a portrait of Old Grandin and it was literally so scary to me hated walking past it so much I would sprint up the stairs whenever I walked past him alone.

I attended the seventh and final Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s national event in March of 2014, at the end of one of the days I was there I took the train to see my old elementary school, to see the mural and to really consider what I had been taught in school versus what my community and family has taught me. Again, none of my direct family are residential school survivors but many Métis are and this history is often hidden. Prayers up and tobacco down for every single survivors, living and in spirit form.

Fig. 3. The mural depicting Bishop Vital-Justin Grandin at an Edmonton LRT Station was covered in orange Tuesday, June 8, 2021. Kirby Bourne, Global News

First Nations, Métis, and Inuit have been talking about their family members who did not come home and the abuse they experienced. This is not new information, and you have to sit and listen no matter how uncomfortable you are because nothing is more uncomfortable than colonial violence. When news came out about the children of Kamloops in 2021 it was devastating how many people I knew personally that were completely ignorant of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the history of residential schools. What happened in these institutions are absolute atrocities many people would rather not face even the knowledge of what happened to these children, both alive and passed on. Like the survivors, the perpetrators of these horrors live on and have never been held accountable.

Continue to honour your community, stand up and show up for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit. Learn about the history of settler-colonial occupation of this land and how you yourself are directly benefitting from this ongoing genocide. Residential school survivors and the children who never came home are in your community; they are the kind kokum down the hall as well as the middle aged man living on the street, their children young adults, teenagers, kids, babies, they still carry these experiences and memory down to the atoms that make up each of their cells.

works cited

Bourne, Kirby. ‘Mural at old Grandin LRT Station to be removed this fall,’ September 23rd, 2021, Global News.

Cardinal, Jake. ‘Edmonton Paints Over The Grandin Mural’, Alberta Native News, June 10th, 2021.

Grandin, Vital-Justin. On the goal of residential schools, 1875.

Pruys, Sarah. ‘MLA calls for new Fort Smith schools, citing residential school legacy’. Cabin Radio, March 5th, 2023.

Webstad, Phyllis Jack. Phyllis’ Story In Her Own Words, OrangeShirtDay.Org

[gatheredfates]

ALAICE DEVERAUX

Nicknames: Not applicable. Age: Twenty-one. Nameday: Twenty-Seventh Sun of the First Astral Moon (apparently I gave her my birthday, so that might change!) Race: Duskwight Elezen. Gender: Cis female. Orientation: Straight? Profession: Lady of the House of Deveraux and Dubois, last remaining survivor after the Dragonsong War; apprentice baker and occasional confidant to Firelight Trading Company.

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Hair: A light blue, leaning more into teal. She tends to style it in loose curls around her shoulders. Eyes: She is heterochromatic! One eye is teal, the other is a steel grey. Skin: Pale with a silvery undertone; it tends to reflect whatever light hits it, rather than possessing it's own distinct colour. Tattoos/Scars: None of any note.

FAMILY

Parents: Lord and Lady Deveraux, dead by Alaice's sixteenth year. It is said that Lord Deveraux attempted to defend his wife from the dragons before he was engulfed in flames. No remains of her mother have been found. Siblings: Not applicable. Grandparents: Not applicable, more unfortunate souls lost to the war. In-Laws and Others: Alaice has a child from her first marriage, a daughter called Alyna. Her husband, Draeir Dubois, died under mysterious circumstances in the months preceding the Ishgardian/Dragon peace treaty, bringing no end of speculation from gentry and smallfolk alike. Some suspect his desire to expand his house beyond Foundation's spires drew ire from the High Houses and he was made an example of. Others suspect a more... intimate cause. Without a murder weapon or obvious intent, none can deduce a proper suspect.

She is particularly close to @riftdancing's Siyoh Mari who, whilst not understanding a lick of Ishgardian gossip, will happily entertain the confusion over a cup of tea as Alaice dramatizes. This leagues better than Elandervier who told her she'd 'rather chew on a voidsent's ass' and leaves at the very mention of anything to do with the city. She has an extremely complicated relationship with the other Elezen due to their mutual upbringings, trauma and reconciliation.

When Firelight is conducting business in Ishgard, she can be seen at its patriarch's side helping him navigate the intricacies of the city. Pets: Unless you count the many birds that have taken residence in her gardens, not applicable.

SKILLS

Abilities: Alaice is ice-aspected to a dangerous degree, and it's an element she has always tried to keep under wraps for fear of heresy and expulsion from the Holy See. As a result, the magic is unpredictable and emerges as a by-product of extreme situations/emotions. Only a select few people know she possesses such an ability. Hobbies: Like all ladies of her standing, Alaice was given a proper education including tutelage in deportment; music, song and dance; needlework and painting — among other gentle pursuits. She has a particular affinity for bird watching and, in the advent of her husband's death, has sunk herself readily into her little business as a baker.

TRAITS

Most positive trait: Alaice possesses a remarkable capacity for trust despite her confinement and husband's abuse. Worst negative trait: Her naïvety. As a woman constricted by the societal expectations of Ishgardian women, Alaice knows scarce little about the world around her — or even Ishgard proper. It is something she is working constantly to undo.

LIKES

Colours: Blue, white, silver, gold and shades of brown. However, given Ishgard's proclivity to the cold, any colour that can break through the sheen of snow is a welcomed addition in her eyes. Smells: Anything floral and/or citrus. These are not necessarily smells she will wear, but remind her of a time before the Calamity when the climate of Ishgard was better suited. She's also partial to vanilla, almond and loves the smell of rain. Textures: Knitted wool and smooth glass (or ice, though she tries not to think too much about it), the gentle prick of pine and the grooves in wood and stone. Drinks: Champagne, white wine and mead. She's also discovering some enjoyment of red wine, stay tuned if she gets more extreme!

OTHER DETAILS

Smokes: Rarely. She smoked recreationally after her parents died, a sort of 'dare' from the other ladies in her company, and took it up in secret as a way to release anxiety in the early days of her marriage — away from the prying eyes of her husband. Alaice quit after becoming pregnant with Alyna and hasn't taken it back up due to associating it with those negative experiences. Drinks: Semi-regularly. Much like smoking, she quit entirely when she got pregnant and tends to only partake as a social nicety. She can acknowledge where she was falling into unhealthy patterns when she was married and tries not to go back to those places. Drugs: Not applicable. Mount Issuance: Not applicable. Alaice was fed on the indoctrination by her husband that is not a lady's place to traverse, but that men should come to her. If she is needed for Firelight Business she will be escorted by their couriers, but she has no vehicle of her own. Been Arrested: No. Being a suspect was traumatic enough. Why would she kill her lord husband?

Tagged by: @eriyu — at least for this one! I'm going to try and do one character per tag. Tagging: @thefreelanceangel, @hythlodaes, @piyopikamika, @sealrock, @thevikingwoman & @yloiseconeillants! If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!

[siriuslyblacks]

wolfstar fic rec list

this is born purely out of my desire to contribute to the world of rec lists. over the past 5-6 months i have been consuming an absurd amount of marauder ff and wanted to toss my love out there for the fics that i absolutely LOVED. everything is hosted on AO3 unless otherwise indicated. i’ll probably add to this as i read more i really enjoy. everything should be marked with rating, major warnings, a summary -- i’ll put my own thoughts/comments when appropriate as well. i did not include fics where the primary relationship isn’t wolfstar because i already had so many on the list but if you ever want either more recs, more specific recs, or recs for fics where wolfstar is not the primary ship please just send an ask my way! :) happy reading!

fics denoted with ** indicate my all time faves. 

 One to speak, another to hear by seventymilestobabylon 

rating: teen, no archive warnings apply 

The Wizarding Wars are over, but the work of recovery has only begun. Remus Lupin is trying to find his place in an ever-changing world, and when he is invited to serve on a truth and reconciliation commission, he has to confront the truth that lives there—in the past and within himself.

this one i read a while ago and it probably deserves a re-read -- i remember really really enjoying remus’ portrayal in this fic as well as the concept of the truth commission. 

all my cards are here by haey1

rating: teen and up audiences

Sirius cracked a well-practiced smirk, “Nice to meet you, Remus.” Sirius looked at his bandmates loading their equipment into Potter's car, “You wouldn’t happen to know a bassist, would you?”

Marauders Band AU - When the Marauders kick out their bassist, they ask local bartender Remus Lupin to step in. As the band gains success, Remus must navigate his new friendship with Sirius under the public eye.

i love love loved this one! the sequel is currently a wip which i’ve been following as well. to be honest i’m a sucker for band aus featuring a messy r/s dynamic and this does not disappoint. 

** Remain in light by veeagainst 

rating: explicit

What if Sirius Black didn't die? It's been done many times. Here's my take on it.

THIS IS ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE FICS. i love the wolfstar relationship. i think it’s very realistic and it’s honestly very comforting to me!! i’ve found myself revisiting this fic a few times because i can’t get enough of their characterizations, as well as the plot. i think this deserves all the hype. 

** Beneath a big blue sky by eyra

rating: explicit, warnings: homphobia, homophobic language

The four-by-four heaves its way down long, twisting lanes, little more than dirt tracks scuffed into the surrounding fields and hemmed in by serpentine walls of flat, grey stone. They truly are in the middle of nowhere: the countryside rushes past, all rolling green hills and vast, endless skies, and it's odious. Sirius wants to murder James with his bare hands.

Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

this one actually took me a while before i gave it a chance and it was so so worth it! sirius is absolutely adorable in this one and things unfold so naturally between them. give everything by eyra a chance if you haven’t, i love their fics but this one is definitely a standout in my opinion. 

**��Into the Fire by wilteddaisy (taotu)

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, recreational drug use, implied/referenced child abuse, non-graphic violence, drinking. 

While war brews on the horizon beyond the walls of Hogwarts, the infamous Triwizard Tournament resurfaces just in time for the Marauders’ seventh year. When the students of Beauxbatons Academy and Ilvermorny School arrive, the champions are in for three unprecedented challenges. Meanwhile, Remus still has feelings, James is still trying to get the (Head) girl, and Sirius has revelations.

not a ton to say on this one except i loved the concept and the sirius characterization! i love too when the differences between sirius’s relationship with james vs with remus are touched on and how they each bring him very different things and one isn’t a stand in for the other! i think this story does it well. 

SHAME by wilteddaisy (taotu) (must have AO3 account and be logged in to read) 

rating: explicit. warnings include recreational drug use, mental illness, drinking, implied/referenced homophobia, sexual content, implied/referenced child abuse.

There were Isak and Even, Lucas and Eliott, Matteo and David… and now, Sirius and Remus. Or, alternatively: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse.  

SKAM au! i admittedly have not seen skam. but i loved this. i loved the friends to more, i thought the subject matter was handled well, and overall it was a very enjoyable fic. 

Sweater weather by lumosinlove

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, semi-public sex. 

Remus works for the Gryffindor Lions as a physical trainer, and has been half in love with Sirius Black, the Lions' heartthrob captain, for a while now, but he never expected Sirius to return the feelings. Read if you like cute nicknames, slow burn, and pining. Yep. That's it.

i am a physical therapist so this actually has a soft spot in my heart because this career is never featured in fic!! this fic is such a fandom classic now and it has amazing OC’s, great pacing, and the relationship which forms is so natural and just made me smile so wide. i devoured this in a day. 

Blends by rvltn909

rating: mature. 

Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say.

-

Another coffee shop au.

!!!! just cute cute ok. 

No Bright Line by lady_grey

rating: explicit. warnings include anxiety, PTSD, implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced homophobic violence, smut 

In which Sirius is a famous actor who has stopped believing in authenticity, Remus is a historian with a complex relationship to memory, and Lily is the brilliant filmmaker who brings them together. James and Harry are there too, although they mostly just want to enjoy the beach.

lily is making song of achilles into a movie!!! it’s wonderful!! i honestly forgot about this one until i was looking through my list and it is such a gem and must read. i remember absolutely tearing through this one, i loved r/s dynamic and remus as a historian is perfect. side characters/plots are awesome as well. 

** Primavera by lunchbucket plus sequel Rococo 

rating: explicit

Sirius never had an interest in art, not until he found the right person to show it to him, that is.

the art!! the age gap in the relationship!! sirius needing to grow up!!! i love older remus and this ‘verse has a special place in my heart. i think i identified a lot with sirius in this one and especially in the sequel rococo which literally spoke to my soul. if you’re in a stage of change especially with school/relationships/your career i would recommend. 

Till we have arrived home by prouvairing 

rating: explicit 

Harry takes a deep breath. “I'm quitting the Aurors,” he starts with, which is followed by a moment of stunned silence. “What?” Sirius says. “All right," Remus says. “Do you know what else you want to do? Did you think about it?” Harry blushes, the way James used to—a rosy glow lighting up his brown skin—and says, “I wanted to—that is, I thought I might be a teacher.” Remus, quite suddenly, seems to have something in his eye. "Oh." “What?” Sirius says. “And uh—there's more. I was thinking I might like to. That is. I want to become an Animagus.”

Sirius Black & The Six by bellababe

rating: mature. warnings include substance abuse, drug use, past child abuse, domestic violence, mental health issues. 

“Remus Lupin, frontman for The Six.” Sirius took a long drag off his cigarette, looking up at the dense evening sky. “You know, I asked around about you. You’re quite the mystery.”

Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.”

“Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.”

Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.”

Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. Remus scowled at his nonchalance, unwilling to explain himself and scared that maybe, just maybe, the disbelief was warranted.

Loosely based on Daisy Jones & The Six

** The Cadence of Part Time Poets by motswolo 

rating: explicit. warnings include drug use, mental health issues, drinking, homophobia, im probably missing a lot

“They’re… chaos,” Remus said firmly. “And chaos is—” “Rock and roll.” He looked at Sirius sharply, and for once, matched his grin. “Yeah.” “Maybe that’s my excuse then,” Sirius said. “I cause a bit of chaos now, and maybe one day, it’ll turn into rock and roll.” Remus pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “That’s some goal, Black.”

After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost.

(genuinely not apologising for the slow-burn in this fic anymore. You've been warned <3)

this is my favorite fic of all time. i mean it. this deserves all the love and attention. it’s wip and going to be for a long time, it’s so worth the read. the world building is amazing. it’s remus centric and you just need to lean into the differences in this universe. it’s au - boarding school au, band au in the making. everything about this absolutely gets me and the r/s slowburn is so so so worth it. the characters are all so amazing and the oc’s are even better. it’s a time investment for sure but i can’t recommend it enough. it’s definitely my favorite non-magical au and i have nothing but good things to say about this. please read it and scream with me.  

No Matter the Wreckage by greyeyedmonster18 

rating: mature. warnings include underage drinking, implied/referenced child abuse, childhood trauma. 

His first summer at the Potters after fifth year--the year of fistfights in hallways, chugging firewhiskey straight from the bottle, too much smoke, exam pressure, scathing letters from his parents, and a careless prank that nearly cost him his friends--was nothing short of painful and illuminating. Sirius Black returns for his sixth year at Hogwarts with longer hair, determined to be different. A story on learning how to love, how to exist, how to be different through cracks and leaks. A story about love no matter the wreckage.

(a sirius focused marauders at hogwarts, getting together wolfstar fic)

station to station by aeridionis 

rating: teen and up 

Beneath it all, at the back of his mind he does know that there’s something terrible in this: terrible in the fact that it’s god-knows what time in the morning and he’s sitting here, sick as a dog, and then Sirius can turn up with his eyes and his laughter and his arm resting against Remus’, and suddenly he could do this forever, Remus could – sit here with him like this. Grow old on the bathroom floor, Sirius’ wandlight casting soft shadows over the two of them like the dark patches on over-sweet fruit.

Sirius’ laughter dies down and he sighs. “Nineteen seventy-eight,” he mutters, as though testing the year out, the way it sits in his mouth. “Mad, isn’t it?”

“A bit.”

or:

Nineteen seventy-eight: there's beginnings and there's endings and there's love and elsewhere, there's war, and when you're seventeen and you're eighteen and you're Remus and you're Sirius, only some of these things are important.

i really enjoy this author’s fics so if you have time definitely check out the rest too!! this one is just such a stand out to me. 

A Wolf’s Heart by mizdiz

rating: mature. warnings include major character death. 

Remus Lupin has a congenital heart defect, and is awaiting an available heart for transplant. Sirius Black is an immature twenty-something, living with a couple other immature twenty-somethings. Both are obsessed with the same obscure book, which becomes their coping mechanism for navigating their instant and torrid love affair. Life, they discover, is precarious at best, but from each other, they learn how to make it something that's worth living.

THIS WAS SO SAD BUT SO WORTH IT. 

** Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp 

rating: explicit

This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog.

Except, it's not really that.

This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog and meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks.

Except, that's not really it either.

This is the story of how Sirius black finds a dog, meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks, and grows the fuck up (at least a little bit).

older remus!!!! their relationship here is perfect. idk i love fics where one of them has to grow up/have an emotional journey in order to be better for themselves and comfortable with who they are before being in a relationship that’s healthy. sirius’ arc in this is perfect. i have used these tips i will not lie. i love wrappedup’s fics so much by the way so please check them all out <3 i have a few more on this list because i can’t help myself. 

** Happy Birthday, you by wrappedup 

rating: mature. warnings include minor character death, recreational drug use, terminal illnesses, coercion, mildly dubious consent, homophobia, body image. 

Sirius Black is about to turn thirty. But, like, it’s not a whole thing. It’s fine. And he’s absolutely not going to have a meltdown, fall in love with his oldest friend, and sabotage his own happiness.

He’s absolutely not.

i am convinced that this author is sirius black. i love their characterization of him in every single piece of their work. 

Impossible Things by accioromulus 

rating: explicit

Sirius’s thoughts are a slow-moving, impending disaster. How he wants to pin Remus up against the cupboards, to crowd him into a corner; how he wants to intertwine their fingers, to brush his lips against Remus’s forehead, his jaw. Instead, he settles for ducking his head and sliding a finger through the belt loop of Remus's jeans—a ridiculous gesture so utterly intimate, even for the pair of them, that he only allows it because he’s just drunk enough.

“Stop stealing my bloody clothes, Lupin.” He says, very quietly.

Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, and murmurs pleasantly: “Better learn to do your own laundry then, Black. Consider it my fee.”

***

It was an impossible thing, living with Remus Lupin--but Sirius was doing it anyway.

disintegration by moonymoment

rating: mature. warnings include graphic descriptions of violence, arson, war, death, blood drinking, corruption, ptsd

Remus stepped into Sirius’ personal space, leaning down and taking out his holy water doused dagger from his pouch. He placed it flat underneath Sirius’ chin, pushing his head up to look him in the eyes. He hissed as the silver burnt him, red and vicious.

“What,” he whispered, “are you doing here?”

Sirius looked pained for a second, and then he blinked, and that stupid, cocky smile lit up his face once more.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

or - Sirius and Remus have been trying to kill each other for eight years, but something always seems to be standing in the way.

VAMPIRE SIRIUS AU! this fic is sooo good i see it all over tiktok all the time. i still need to catch up because i haven’t because i’m the worst. i love moonymoment’s fics though and this one is a whole world you need to sink your teeth into (ha!) 

The Player’s Secret by wrappedup

rating: mature. warnings include implied/referenced suicide, depression, suicidal thoughts. 

“So what’s he like? Full of it? Arrogant?”

“Yes,” he says, because he thinks that is a fair assessment. Sirius Black is full of it. He is arrogant. He’s also entitled and needy and smug. He’s talented, reckless, moody, selfish, childish, charming and sweet, and a million different other things Remus is trying to wrap his head around.

Sirius Black is hard work.

Remus Lupin is a successful documentary filmmaker who is assigned to make a fly-on-the-wall documentary featuring Sirius Black - one of the world's most brilliant footballers - as he competes in the European Championship.

All does not go smoothly.

this one is a cutie 

** from white-hot anticipation to cold-blooded fear and back again by drowsyanddazed 

rating: mature

They’re so close. Sirius can feel Remus’ hot, bated breath on his skin. He can see every one of Remus’ honey freckles and the white spiderwebs that course through his scar tissue. He can hear every one of Remus’ sharp inhales and shaky exhales; It’s the only sound he can hear above his own heart racing through his veins.

And his heart is doing that —racing. But it’s not like a thud, thud, thud in his chest or even a soft, fluttering sound like a warm, Irish lilt. The sound is more like a swoosh, like a pendulum swing, jumping from white-hot anticipation to cold-blooded fear and back again.

-or-

Remus is a storm blowing through Sirius’ small town and Sirius is laid out on the waterlogged cobblestone streets waiting to be washed away.

Ravenclaw remus!!! i love how obsessed sirius becomes with remus in this and how he just does not understand it whatsoever. too too cute. i am a sucker for their history so i don’t tend to gravitate towards fics where they’re in other houses but this one i loved too much. 

ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18

rating: mature

Best-selling novelist Remus Lupin, distraught and torn after his relationship of 10 years ends in nothing but doubt and litigation leaves the bustle of New York City, and retreats to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in hopes of reconnecting to his childhood and getting his writing spark back. Sirius Black is a local ceramicist and single parent with a backstory all his own, who happens to frequent the coffee shop Remus grew up studying in. Remus for the first time in his life didn't have a plan when he booked a one way plane ticket--except for maybe the plan to never fall in love again. Except...

A story of simple pleasures, love, and home.

(Modern, Adult Wolfstar AU; set in the states)

Highland fling by picascribit

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, outdoor sex, chronic illness

2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.

Carry me away by greyeyedmonster18

rating: mature 

“You know I need you, and that's for sure, you’re just the kind of crazy I’ve been looking for.”

Sirius had devised the perfect plan. Two weeks in London before he started University. Two weeks of bars and football games and time spent out from under his parents gaze. Two weeks without rules or expectations. He concocted the perfect ruse to fool everyone about his whereabouts. And then he met Remus. And suddenly two weeks couldn't have ever been enough time.

(non-magic, AU; Sirius is a sheltered posh boy on his first rebellion, Remus is an attractive stranger who make's him re-think all his plans).

Solntse by lumosinlove

rating: explicit

Sirius, a young Russian billionaire hires Remus, who is working part time as a call boy to make ends meet. Things happen, feelings occur.

** lover, you should’ve come over by dykesiriusblack 

rating: mature. warnings include chronic pain, disability, anxiety, sexual content. 

Sirius Black is a mess. Remus Lupin is new.

It's all quite complicated.

or

The story of Remus and Sirius meeting at age 20, falling in love without meaning to, and not knowing how the fuck to deal with it for far too long.

i love love love these messy boys in this one. another one where i love sirius character arc. i love the pining. i love the complexity of their friendship and navigating feelings. i love the rest of the group. 

** nothing left (but some blood where the body fell) 

rating: mature 

this countryside's burnin' with wolfmen fairies dressed in drag for homicide / they hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath the holy stone they hide / they're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection / nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception / and everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood / sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud.

- lost in the flood, bruce springsteen

i’m currently reading this and it’s very very good! not necessarily wolfstar centric but it’s my current read and i can’t get enough of it so i wanted to include it. i love the relationships, the james/remus/sirius/lily dynamics are all so interesting and overall a good long haul marauder fic following them through hogwarts/the first war. 

Source codes series by flourescentgrey

rating: explicit. warnings include dubious ethics/morality, consent issues, sexually transmitted diseases. 

In 1993, Remus Lupin figures out how to escape from Azkaban.

i just finished this. it was very very dark. but it was so good. it kinda fucked me up for a day or so just the extent of the real world parallels, the dark nature of the plot, and the angst angst angst. there are a lot of dubious ethics in this one. that being said it was worth the read and very well written. 

Dear Your Holiness by MollyMaryMarie

rating: explicit. warnings include implied/referenced suicide, childhood trauma, childhood sexual abuse, conversion therapy, eating disorders, racism. 

During the week of his father's funeral, Sirius Black meets an unusual priest and offers to help write Orion Black's eulogy. At the same time, he's started texting a mysterious bass player from a pop-punk band that he accidentally swapped phones with. Eventually, the conversations between the two start to blur together and Sirius has trouble trying to decide which one he's falling for the hardest.

priest!remus. this one was hot and it was fun and i loved it. you need to read. 

Inked by drunkonturpentine

rating: mature

Remus Lupin is doing just fine, thank you: he's a fully functioning adult, business at his flower shop is steady, and he even has a vague approximation of a social life. But when the vacant building next door becomes a tattoo parlor run by the sought-after, larger-than-life Sirius Black, Remus's carefully constructed world is turned on its head, forcing him to reexamine his past, present, and future.

that’s the art of getting by by sarewolf

rating: mature

“What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.

“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

a classic :)

on another ocean (WIP) by colgatebluemintygel

rating: explicit

“You want me to come with you on the holiday that you specifically booked for you and your girlfriend?” “Ex-girlfriend,” Sirius corrects. Remus looks at Sirius searchingly, and once again, several emotions flicker across his face; only this time, his expression lands on something like hope. “Yeah. Okay.” or, Sirius is dumped by his girlfriend and drags his best friend on a holiday across Europe. And somewhere between Berlin clubs, Parisian boulevards, and Transylvanian villages, they fall into each other.

i am simply a girl and a girl who is an absolute SUCKER for pining sirius!!! ugh him being absolutely oblivious to remus’ clear feelings back!!! help me!!! im also a slut for slutty remus i love that the string bean can pull 

** wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel

rating: explicit

Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off host.

or,

Sirius groans, dropping his head back into his hands. “It’s the dough,” he mumbles into the skin of his palms. “It’s the kneading. It’s his hands. They’re obscene.”

Lily laughs. “They are a bit, aren’t they?”

GBBO!!! this fic is pure comfort to me, i love the character dynamics--sirius and lily as hosts have a soft spot in my heart, remus’ chaos and the adorable adorable flirtation between r/s. i love. 

A Bird At Your Door by moongoblin

rating: not rated

A shiver trembles through Sirius, racing up his spine, and he blames the crisp air. Remus leans closer, and his lips are parting-- and Sirius shrieks as a chunk of wet, numbing snow is rubbed into his cheek. He squirms beneath him, twisting his head away, but Remus only presses him harder into the glacial ground.

When Remus sits back, Sirius glowers darkly, using his freed arm to wipe his face with his sleeve. He can't quite remember how to breathe, and Remus is still over him, their legs tangled and bent at odd angles.

"You were a lot nicer to me when you were sick." Sirius says.

"I was weak." Remus smiles, and the warmth from his body fades as he gets to his feet. "Don't get used to it."

Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out.

again. i live for s being obsessed with r. i can’t get enough of it. especially when he can’t figure out quite why. i love the begrudging friendship they form in this one. 

[stiltonbasket]

Cultivation baby Jingyi sneezes onto Jin Zixun's dinner. lxc is all "that's unfortunate :)"

your throwback to cultivation baby jingyi reminded me just how much i love him, so any chance of more?

"If either of you have thought of a way to gain the confidence of the Lan sect," Jin Guangshan says tersely, during the fifth meeting of the Trying and Failing To Grasp Political Power Collective (as termed by Jin Guangyao, who is no longer concerned with political power, and now considers his entry into the Jin sect the worst decision he's ever made), "now would be the time to say something about it. Guangyao?”

“Well, Father,” Jin Guangyao smiles, “there is Lan Yi’s hundred-day next month. Lan-zongzhu’s erratic behavior this last year--and consequently, Nie-zongzhu’s reluctance to treat with us--was mostly due to the child’s influence on Lan-zongzhu’s temperament. They might be open to reconciliation now that the little one is here.”

Jin Zixun glares at him. “Lan Xichen doesn’t have to reconcile with you,” he snarls. “We need to make him think well of me. And Shufu. Otherwise, we’ll never get anywhere with his brute of husband, now will we?”

No one will ever get anywhere with Lan Xichen’s brute of a husband unless they happen to be Lan Xichen himself, but Jin Guangyao doesn’t bother saying so.

“Then you can be in charge of selecting the child’s hundred-day gift and presenting it,” he says instead. “If Zewu-jun likes the present, I might be able to persuade Chifeng-zun to look at you sometime within the next decade.”

Of course, Jin Guangyao is the one who ends up selecting the gift: a cunning arrangement of beads and toys carved out of maple wood, small enough to fit in an infant’s hands and large enough for Lan Yi to cut his teeth on without fear of choking. Jin Guangshan told his nephew to say that he found the thing in the market and thought it would make a nice gift for the baby, and take Lan Xichen’s pleasure at the gesture as an opportunity to begin negotiations for the latest trade bills that had failed to win his approval.

But in the end, what happened was this: Jin Zixun managed to lose the toy sometime after he arrived at the Cloud Recesses, after which he turned upon Jin Guangyao and accused him of sabotage in the middle of the hundred-day feast. Little Lan Jingyi was napping at the time--or at least he had been, until Jin Zixun started screaming--and when the fool tried to apologize, A-Yi leaned out of Er-ge’s arms and spit up all over Jin Zixun’s robes.

“Jin-er-gongzi,” Lan Xichen said, with a vague, toothy smile that looked a little like a death’s head. “Perhaps you should find a seat at the back of the feasting hall and let A-Yao handle the greetings. A-Yi is always restless around people he dislikes, and you were behaving dreadfully on the day he was born, so...”

“You should go and change your clothes first,” Nie Mingjue grumbled, appearing at his husband’s elbow. “The acid from A-Yi’s stomach will ruin the silk. Jin Zixuan should have something your size, since you two are close in height.”

And that, as Wei Wuxian likes to say, was that.

But he hundred-day feast was far from the last time Jin Zixun ran afoul of little Lan Jingyi, as Jin Guangyao notes several months later. The baby seems to hate the very sight of his cousin, and since Jingyi’s fathers always bring him with them when they travel, Zixun has been effectively banished from the two sect leaders’ presence.

“He will grow up soon enough,” Jin Guangyao reminds his cousin, after Zixun’s seventh thwarted meeting with Nie-zongzhu. “Remain patient, and all will be well.”

So Zixun waits, withdrawing from inter-sect lectures and hunts where the Lan sect is expected to appear. Jin Guangyao steps into his cousin’s place, and enjoys his change in circumstances immensely; but at last, Nie Mingjue appears at a discussion conference without his husband and son, giving Jin Guangshan the chance to speak to him directly for the first time in nearly three years.

“Where is Lan-zongzhu?” he asks, after the usual small talk about the decorations and how well the new disciples at the Jinlintai seem to be doing. “Will he be attending later?”

Nie Mingjue mutters something about Lan Xichen being needed at the Cloud Recesses and darts away, heading for the banquet tables on the other side of the Fragrance Hall. The lines of his face relax the moment he leaves Jin Guangshan’s presence, taking on the softness Jin Guangyao associates with him being open to conversation; so he puts down the wine he was drinking and hastens to Nie Mingjue’s side, standing between him and the rest of the room to keep his quarry from slipping away again.

“That was a lie, if I ever heard one,” he remarks. “Where is Lan-zongzhu, really?”

“You heard me. At the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue tells him, his lips quirking up into a smile. “By the way, does that idiot cousin of yours know I’m avoiding him on purpose?”

“No,” confesses Jin Guangyao. “I haven’t told him, and I doubt he has the wits to figure it out himself.”

“Well, when you see him next, you can tell him that he shouldn’t expect me to budge for another couple of years.”

Jin Guangyao blinks. “Why?”

“I think my daughter might dislike your relatives even more than A-Yi does,” Nie Mingjue says blithely. “Xichen can’t control his impulses at the moment, you see, and I won’t leave his side. Good day!”

[scotianostra]

December 6th 1593 saw The Battle of Dryfe Sands.

This little known battle was between two Border Reiver Lowland Clans the Johnstones and the Maxwell.

For over half a century, the Maxwells and the Johnstones had been at feud and, during the 16th Century, they vied with each other for the supremacy of the Scottish West March. Being in a position of strength, the seventh Lord Maxwell, the Earl of Morton, decided once and for all, to destroy his enemy and his constant rival for power.

With an army of 2,000 horsemen he set about invading Johnstone territory in Annandale to destroy the Johnstone's family seat.

The Chief of the Johnstones, Sir James Johnstone received intelligence of the approach of the enemy. His available forces being relatively weak, he called for urgent help and his pleas was answered by the Grahams, Scotts, Armstrongs, Carruthers, Irvings, Elliots and others. He mustered barely 1,000 men.

Before the battle, Lord Maxwell offered a reward to anyone who brought to him the head or the hand of the Johnstone chief. In turn, the Laird of Johnstone offered a reward for the head or hand of Lord Maxwell.

On December 6th, 1593, Lord Maxwell, with his army set off to seek out the enemy. As it approached the Johnstone town of Lockerbie, near Dryfe Sands, it was harassed by a small detachment of Johnstones.

They attacked the vanguard of the Maxwells and then retreated, provoking them to pursue them, which they did. The main body of the Johnstones, which had been kept out of sight of the enemy, suddenly charged and caught the enemy off guard. Their disordered vanguard was sent reeling into their main force and in the resulting confusion, the Johnstones pressed home their attack.

The fleeing Maxwells were pursued through the streets of Lockerbie and beyond. At Dryfe Sands the slaughter was completed and the Maxwells were said to have lost 700 men out of their 3000.

It was here that the Johnstones used a peculiar downward cutting stroke with their swords, known afterwards as 'Lockerbie licks' which caused hideous facial wounds.

Lord Maxwell was captured alive and begged for mercy, but the Johnstones cut off his outstretched hand and slew him. The hand was fixed to the battlements of Lochwood Tower as a trophy.

Some years later, in 1608, a meeting of reconciliation was arranged between Sir James Johnstone and Lord Maxwell, son of the chief who was killed at Dryfe Sands. The meeting was carefully supervised. Each party could bring only one attendant.

Then during the meeting. Lord Maxwell suddenly drew a pistol and shot the Johnstone chief in the back, killing him instantly. Lord Maxwell escaped and made his way to France. Eventually he was apprehended and taken to Edinburgh where he was publicly beheaded.

The Battle of Dryfe Sands is said to be the last great battle between Scottish families or clans. It was only 40 years later, in 1633, that Rachel Whiteford discovered the Moffat Well and the town began to grow from a small village into a popular spa town.

[kahran042]

Morgan's timeline

Morgan Rose Urquhart: -Born in Dover, New Hampshire to Robert and Kathleen Urquhart on January 18, 15 years before the events of the series. -When Morgan was eight, a clown tried to grab her at a carnival, exacerbating her already-severe coulrophobia*. Her brother Connor, who was ten at the time, saved her and kicked the clown in the shin. -When Morgan was nine, Connor picked her a flower and said "It’s missing a petal, just like you’re missing a few screws upstairs", yet the flower was beautiful. This event was totally not "borrowed" from a YouTube comment on a Dear Evan Hansen animatic. ;) -Morgan started playing the clarinet in fourth grade. -Morgan's family moved to Foxwood when she was ten. -Morgan befriended Sarah Reinholt in sixth grade. -Morgan was forced to watch Supersize Me in seventh-grade health class. For almost a year afterwards, she insisted on going by Rose because she was too embarrassed to share a name with Morgan Spurlock. However, Sarah was the only one who remembered to call her that, and even she forgot sometimes. -Morgan received her iconic Celtic-knot necklace as a thirteenth-birthday gift from Connor. It was the last time she remembered him being nice to her, because it was around the same time that he started pushing her away. She continues to wear the necklace as a symbol of hope for reconciliation with her brother. -The next year, when she was in eighth grade, Morgan joined the lacrosse team and met Kiera Bernhardt, although they didn't really know each other that well until they were in high school. -Morgan discovered she was a lesbian at fourteen, when she realized that she had a crush on her best friend Sarah and had never really had any interest in boys. -In her freshman year of high school, Morgan kicked Nick Murphy in the groin for harassing her brother, and still considers it worth the five-day suspension she received. -In the summer between her freshman and sophomore years, Morgan got the high score on the Lethal Enforcers machine at the local arcade, which remains unbeaten to this day. -The next year, Morgan joined the jazz choir, mostly because Sarah suggested that she join. *Fear of clowns.

[gwopijon]

THREE MONTHS LATER, Niemann says, Mulkey summoned her to the coach’s office. The player had been seen around Waco with a woman, and people had begun murmuring about her sexuality. “It’s not a good look,” Niemann says Mulkey told her. Baylor is the world’s largest Baptist university, and its policy still prohibits premarital sex and defines marriage as between a man and woman. Mulkey advised Niemann to be careful because the program would be watching. For months, Niemann had struggled with questions about her identity, slowly coming to grips with being queer, she says. The product of a conservative home in Houston, a graduate of a Christian school and now a player at Baylor, she found many of her feelings were in conflict with her surroundings. “I can’t talk to anyone,” she says now. “I couldn’t find a way to make things feel right.” She was thinking of transferring, Niemann says, and met with Mulkey and her parents about it. Mulkey was flabbergasted, the coach wrote in her memoir, adding that among Niemann’s reasons for wanting to leave Baylor was that Mulkey was sometimes too hard on players. “This is how I do what I do,” Niemann recalls the coach saying. “And if you can’t take it, maybe you should leave.” Niemann left. Later, she wrote that she “did not leave Baylor because coach Mulkey is homophobic.” The coach, Niemann wrote, was only expressing opinions that were the “dominant belief system” on campus. Mulkey wrote about Niemann in her memoir, suggesting that “unhappiness comes from within one’s soul” and that Niemann’s experience was an isolated case. Other players point out that hard coaching is a key driver of Mulkey’s success, even as her peers go softer amid the shifting power dynamics of college sports. For Mulkey, players say, that often extends to comments about players’ hairstyles, tattoos and makeup. “She hates my different hair colors,” former Bears guard DiDi Richards says. “ ‘Why is your hair purple?’ ‘Are you going to wear them two ponytails?’ If you would change the color, she’d go, ‘You and these damn colors.’ ” The comments came from a place of affection, Richards believes. They could get personal, too, though Richards says they show how Mulkey pushes players, physically and emotionally, in pursuit of wins. Mulkey’s attorneys described the comments as “good-natured banter, as often happens on and around the court.” A few months after Baylor’s first championship, Mulkey’s husband told her he felt neglected. They attended couples counseling, Mulkey would write, and she offered to leave coaching. Robertson nonetheless wanted to end their marriage. “I told Randy … that he better be sure,” Mulkey wrote, “because there was no turning back.” (Robertson did not respond to an email.) By this point, those in Mulkey’s orbit had learned that disloyalty could result in harsh consequences. Les Mulkey sent notes to his daughter, pleading for reconciliation, but Mulkey wrote that she returned them unread. After Reneau, the former Louisiana Tech president, sent Mulkey a message congratulating her on the national championship, Mulkey would say later, it sat unopened on her desk for years. “Talk to that man?” she told the Dallas Morning News in 2012. “That’s not who I am.”

AT BAYLOR, MULKEY IMPORTED a layer of trust by surrounding herself with past allies: Barmore, who came out of retirement to be an assistant coach; a longtime Louisiana Tech booster to oversee Baylor’s budget and travel; and a former Techsters team manager to handle recruiting.

Everything Mulkey did, at least as it related to basketball, worked: two Sweet 16s in five years and, in 2010, another Final Four. Texas kids dreamed of wearing the green and gold, and when Kelli Griffin was in seventh grade, she wrote a paper about someday leaving Houston to play for Kim Mulkey.

Griffin had come out in high school, but though she and Mulkey never explicitly discussed her sexuality while she was being recruited, Griffin says now that it was “obvious” and that she assumed Mulkey knew. She promised Griffin’s mother, Madine, that Baylor was a “family” and that she would protect Kelli.

Not long after Griffin arrived on campus, she says, Mulkey began asking why she dressed like a boy: baggy jeans, basketball shorts, sweats. A lady, Griffin says the coach told her, wears a dress. “Okay, this lady might not like gay people,” Griffin recalls thinking.

She considered transferring, but in 2008, one of Griffin’s friends and former AAU teammates committed to Baylor. Brittney Griner was a 6-foot-8 phenom and YouTube dunking sensation who, not long after reporting to campus, grabbed a rebound, glided the length of the court with the ball, then dunked it.

“Dang, Kim,” Barmore said in an interview. “I think we’ve got something here.”

Griner is gay, but she didn’t come out publicly until 2013, after her final game at Baylor. Still, whenever Mulkey sensed Griner was distracted or stressed, Mulkey blamed “girlfriend problems,” Griner later wrote, even if Griner wasn’t dating anyone. “She sounded like she was speaking a foreign language,” Griner wrote.

“Maybe she would have understood me better,” Griner wrote, “if I had shared more with her, but there was always a little bit of a disconnect with us, because I never really knew if Kim fully accepted me for who I am.”

Mulkey also called out players if they gained weight, instructing the team’s strength coach to conduct weigh-ins in front of the team, according to Griffin and another player. Players weren’t to bring non-basketball matters to Mulkey, they say, encouraged to confide in assistant coaches instead. And Niemann and multiple other former players say shame was a frequent tool in Mulkey’s coaching arsenal, whether during practice drills or in addresses to the team. Some of these former players spoke on the condition of anonymity because of fears of retaliation in the close-knit women’s basketball community.

Mulkey’s attorneys said the former players’ allegations were too vague to respond to.

Mulkey didn’t like the stars tattooed on Griner’s shoulders because, the player later wrote, they sent the “wrong message.” Griner pacified her coach by wearing a T-shirt under her jersey.

“It seemed like all she cared about was the image of the program as seen through the eyes of a very specific segment of the population,” Griner wrote. “Just once, I wanted her to stop worrying about what everyone else thought and stand by my side.”

In 2010, Griffin was the second-ranked Bears’ starting point guard. One night, Griffin says, an ex-girlfriend and Bears teammate showed up at Griffin’s home, and a fight broke out.

Griffin says she called Mulkey to report the incident, and the next morning, Mulkey announced that Griffin would be suspended indefinitely. The teammate, who Griffin wouldn’t identify to The Post because, she said, the teammate had not come out as gay, wasn’t punished, according to Griffin. In a separate interview, Griffin’s mom, Madine, also recalled that the other player wasn’t suspended.

Griffin says she confronted Mulkey to ask why she was being penalized and that Mulkey told her she was owed no explanation.

“I thought I did everything I was supposed to,” she says.

After The Post asked Mulkey’s representatives about these events, they provided a statement from the former player, Morghan Medlock, who was in a relationship with Griffin at the time. Medlock claimed Griffin was actually suspended for using marijuana.

In a phone interview the next day, Medlock reiterated that Mulkey “never knew” there had been an altercation between Griffin and Medlock. Griffin just stopped coming to practice, Medlock said. Medlock said she did not remember how she had learned the reason Griffin was suspended.

Medlock said she decided to give the statement after receiving a call this week from an individual who falsely claimed Griffin had identified Medlock to The Post.

“If my name never came up, I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now,” she said. Medlock would not reveal who had contacted her and refused to say when she had last spoken with Mulkey.

“What difference does it make?” she said. “How I got the information, who I got it from, where I got it, that doesn’t matter.”

She then ended the call.

Griffin maintains that she was not suspended for drugs and that she didn’t use marijuana in college. The Baylor women’s basketball spokeswoman from 2010, who’s now retired, told The Post in a text message Wednesday that she was “not privy” to the reason for Griffin’s suspension. Baylor’s current spokesman declined to comment on this and other elements of this article.

Griffin says she told assistant coach Damion McKinney that she intended to transfer because, Griffin says, “I couldn't play for Kim anymore.” (McKinney did not respond to messages seeking comment.)

But transferring wouldn’t be easy. Long before the NCAA, in 2021, introduced the transfer portal, allowing players to come and go among schools without penalty, players generally needed to be released by one school before pursuing a transfer to another.

Four days after appearing in an exhibition game, the Baylor program released a statement to the media. It didn’t say Griffin intended to transfer.

It said she “quit.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2024/03/30/kim-mulkey-lsu-griner-reese/?pwapi_token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJyZWFzb24iOiJnaWZ0IiwibmJmIjoxNzExNzcxMjAwLCJpc3MiOiJzdWJzY3JpcHRpb25zIiwiZXhwIjoxNzEzMTUzNTk5LCJpYXQiOjE3MTE3NzEyMDAsImp0aSI6IjJlZTBiNWQ2LTA4MWYtNDk3ZC04MWIwLWY3OWE0ZWIwMjgzMiIsInVybCI6Imh0dHBzOi8vd3d3Lndhc2hpbmd0b25wb3N0LmNvbS9zcG9ydHMvMjAyNC8wMy8zMC9raW0tbXVsa2V5LWxzdS1ncmluZXItcmVlc2UvIn0.WlqpF2j7HkwrLsbUraMc3Vuuzb-cpTWaI4YGiD84XXM

[cveenso]

Seventh.

In the tangled web of romantic entanglements, there exists a tale—a tale of forgiveness, of second chances, and ultimately, of betrayal. As I share my story with you, dear reader, allow me to peel back the layers of my romantic history and shed light on the complexities that lie within.

It began with a breakup, as many stories often do. In the year 2019, I bid farewell to a chapter of my life, believing that closure had been achieved. I moved forward, embracing the prospect of new beginnings and even finding solace in the arms of another. Yet, fate had other plans in store.

With a twist of irony, the past came knocking at my door in the form of a Twitter request—from none other than the man I had once bid adieu. Despite my reservations, I extended forgiveness, albeit with a tinge of disbelief at his audacity. Seven months elapsed before he deigned to strike up a conversation, choosing the auspicious occasion of my birthday to rekindle contact, this time through Instagram.

But the plot thickened, revealing a startling revelation—he had been in a relationship when he first sought me out on Twitter. The realization struck like a thunderbolt, leaving me reeling from the sheer audacity of his actions. How could he harbor such fantasies while committed to another?

The dilemma weighed heavy upon my conscience—should I entertain the notion of reconciliation, knowing full well the potential for heartache? Or would it be wiser to sever ties, safeguarding my heart from further turmoil?

Amidst the cacophony of doubts and warnings from well-meaning friends and family, I found myself grappling with a belief—one that defied logic yet persisted in my heart. I believed in the capacity for change, in the inherent goodness that resides within each individual, no matter their past transgressions.

And so, against the backdrop of skepticism and admonition, I took a leap of faith. On January 1st, 2024, we embarked upon a journey of love, formalizing our relationship with hope and trepidation intertwined. Little did I know that the seeds of doubt had already been sown.

As the new year dawned, so too did the first instance of deceit—a phone call that shattered the illusion of trust, casting shadows upon our fledgling romance. His voice, once light-hearted, turned grave in an instant, betraying the gravity of the situation. I knew, deep down, that it was his ex-girlfriend on the other end of the line, yet I remained silent, clinging to a fragile semblance of normalcy.

But the lie lingered between us like a phantom, poisoning the air with its presence. As we journeyed homeward, his demeanor shifted, betraying the guilt that gnawed at his conscience. And though I longed to confront him, to demand answers, I found myself paralyzed by indecision.

As we traversed the familiar streets, I felt the weight of betrayal settle upon my shoulders. And when he extended a gesture of affection upon our parting, I recoiled, unable to mask my frustration and disappointment.

I retreated into the solace of my own thoughts, when his text message illuminated the screen—a stark reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. And so, dear reader, the stage is set, the players assembled. The curtain rises on a drama of love and deceit, with the outcome uncertain and the stakes unbearably high.

"I hope you're feeling okay."

Yet, as I grappled with the tumult within, his silence spoke volumes, revealing the chasm that had widened between us. I knew, deep down, that I was far from okay, and his failure to chase after me only confirmed my suspicions.

I was confronted with the harsh reality of his deception. Despite recent interactions with his family, I was acutely aware of where I stood in his life—a mere afterthought, a passing fancy. The sting of his indifference cut deeper than any lie ever could, leaving me reeling from the betrayal.

And so, in a whirlwind of emotion, I lashed out—threats, phone calls, desperate attempts to elicit a response. Yet, amidst the chaos, the truth emerged—a truth that shattered the fragile illusion of our relationship.

He was returning to his ex-girlfriend, the very same woman who had cast a shadow over our past. And though I knew it was no longer my responsibility, I couldn't shake the sense of guilt that gnawed at my conscience.

But even in the face of betrayal, I chose to stay—to cling to the hope of changing him, of being the one to make a difference in his life. It was a futile endeavor, a masquerade of emotions that masked the truth—I did not love him, not truly.

Yet, as time wore on, the facade began to crumble. His texts grew colder, his affection waning with each passing day. And as my anxiety reached a fever pitch, I found myself teetering on the edge of despair.

Desperate crying for help, I reached out—to him, to his sister, to anyone who would listen. But my pleas fell on deaf ears, leaving me to confront my demons alone.

And so, as we met to talk things out, I found myself too exhausted to even speak. The words caught in my throat, suffocated by the weight of our shattered dreams.

In the aftermath of our breakup, the truth came to light—a week later, his purported ex-girlfriend shared pictures of them together, a painful reminder of his infidelity. And yet, even in the face of betrayal, I refused to harbor hatred or resentment.

For in forgiving him, I found liberation—not because I wished him well, but because my soul deserved peace. And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of finality, I bid him farewell, praying that he would find the strength to confront his demons and mend his ways.

As I pen these final words, dear reader, I do so with a sense of closure—a closure that was hard-won, yet infinitely precious. And though our paths may never cross again, I carry with me the lessons learned from our tumultuous journey—a journey that shaped me, tested me, and ultimately, set me free.

Assalamualaikum,

cveenso

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Seventh Year: Reconciliations Bonus Scene 8

Can still scarcely believe First Born is done. I am able to share another scene I had been sitting on for a while. Keep in mind that while this one takes place during Reconciliations, it's best read after the last chapter unless you want some spoilers about things.

Or maybe you do want spoilers. I don't know.

I'm slowly starting up the process of shifting all these bonus scenes over to AO3, so please leave a comment and a kudos. :) And please reblog this or leave a comment/reply! <3

On AO3

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 4

Bonus Scene 5

Bonus Scene 6

Bonus Scene 7

**

“You can see him, right?” Draco asked Luna.

Luna looked at him, blinking. “Yes. Why?”

“Does he – is he different?”

It was a moment before Luna responded, expression thoughtful. “He’s…closed off. More withdrawn. It was bad when we first came here, but since then…it hasn’t really changed.”

“He keeps saying it’s fine and nothing he can’t handle,” Draco said. “That we were expecting worse than what it’s been. I think he isn’t sharing everything.”

Luna chewed her lower lip, looking down at the book she had been reading. From the cover, it seemed like a romance of a blue person swooning into a rugged blond man’s arms. There was a dark tower in the background backlit by lightning. “He normally doesn’t. Have you tried speaking to him?”

“Once,” Draco admitted. “The first night. I didn’t think trying again would get me anywhere else and…” There had been something else that cautioned him not to push too hard here, though he had wanted to shake Michael until answers fell out. Something about the look in Michael’s eyes.

“I don’t think he’s likely to share much with me either,” Luna said regretfully. “He’s…hiding.”

Draco blinked. “Hiding? We see him every day.”

Luna shook her head. “Yes, but he’s still hiding.”

Draco was still baffled. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, Luna.”

Luna shrugged, cryptic as ever. “I know Susan has asked some questions, but it usually leaves her wanting to hit him with a pillow.”

Draco understood the sentiment. “…Do you mean hiding by how he’s withdrawn?”

“I don’t think he wants me to see,” Luna said, “but I don’t think I could see what he doesn’t want me to. But I can see enough that it’s…wrong. I was hoping it would get better. He smiles more now.”

He did. It was nice to see. Though Draco wished those smiles were in a slightly different context than Dummy asking them embarrassing questions about the hygiene habits of wizards. Ginny had admitted Dummy reminded her of her father and that was a comparison Draco hadn’t wanted to make but now couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

“I know there’s a saying about everything having its own timeline,” Draco said, “but I don’t think waiting longer will do anything here.”

“It might, but it would probably take a very long time. We might be old then.” Luna sounded thoughtful.

“…I would prefer for that not to be the case.”

“I wouldn’t either.” Luna closed her book and put it to the side. Her expression was thoughtful.

Draco hesitated a moment, then offered, “Some of his siblings have been trying. Gabriel, especially.”

Luna looked up at him. “Do you want to ask?”

“No.” Draco made a face, then sighed. “But we have to.”

There was no response from Luna but she stood up, nodding at Draco. 

Draco had no idea where he was going. It wasn’t to Michael, who was with the others who were getting lessons on weapons from an overly eager Asgardian who had been too excited to share how to use the sharp, pointy swords in the armory. However, he didn’t know where to find Gabriel.

He could always pray…

Luna ended up asking one of the cleaning staff that wasn’t a metal “robot,” and the two were directed to a small side room that Draco would never have found on his own. Unfortunately it wasn’t just Gabriel in there. Raphael and Lucifer were present as well.

Lucifer was sitting on the back of the couch, those keen grayish eyes fixed on the two of them as they entered. He didn’t say anything.

Gabriel looked like he’d been in the middle of pacing, coming to a stop to also look at them. Raphael stood at a wall, looking almost uncomfortably like Michael. Draco could really see the familial resemblance.

“You’re not lost, are you?” Gabriel asked after a long moment of silence.

Draco shook himself, stepping forward. “We were looking for you.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “Well…here I am.”

“Michael…we’re worried about him, and he isn’t talking.”

Gabriel grimaced, glancing at Raphael and Lucifer. “Yeah…we’ve been giving him space. Not too sure how well that’s working out.”

“He’s hiding,” Luna said. She looked between the three of them, biting her lip and pressing her fingers together. “You – you can see that, can’t you?”

They all turned to look at Luna, expressions intent. Even though he wasn’t under their attention, a shiver ran down Draco’s spine.

For her part, Luna didn’t budge, keeping her head high.

“What do you see?” Raphael asked curiously.

“I – I see him. But he’s… It’s not like it was before. He’s pulled back.”

“It was different before?”

“Yes.” Luna didn’t turn away, still looking them in the eye. “But here – it’s… He’s all curled up. It’s – it’s like the Snorkacks when they’re injured. They hide in their shells.”

They looked at each other again, seeming to communicate silently and probably actually doing so given they were angels.

“Is that not something you noticed?” Draco asked.

Gabriel pulled a face. Lucifer grimaced, looking down at the floor. Raphael looked worried, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Michael’s always been hard to read,” Gabriel said slowly. “Even for us. And, well…he’s not given us much.”

“Are you not supposed to know him better?” Draco demanded. “You’re his siblings. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Gabriel looked pained. “You’re right; it should. Unfortunately…it hasn’t for a long time.”

“Then aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“I did,” Lucifer said, grumpy. “I brought you here.”

Draco blinked, looking at him. “I rather thought you did it to prove a point.”

“I did.”

Draco squinted at him, thinking Draco’s point and Lucifer’s points were two different points. 

“We’ve tried,” Luna said when Draco continued staring at Lucifer. “And it does help, but he keeps saying we can’t really understand and that this is all to be expected and he deserves it.”

Gabriel muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse, rubbing a hand over his face. Lucifer looked even more pained. Raphael seemed like she had a question answered she didn’t really want answered.

“That’s why we’re here,” Draco said, looking between each of them. “He keeps telling us we wouldn’t understand. Even if we ask for more, he doesn’t want to share.” He scowled. “Because he thinks we’re too fragile for it. I presume it wouldn’t be the same for you.”

Gabriel snorted, still covering his face with a hand. “No. There’s other baggage with us.”

“We don’t want to be old by the time he’s willing to share,” Luna said, pleading. “We – I don’t want him to keep hurting. Not when something can be done.”

Raphael drew in a long breath, relaxing from her rigid pose by the wall. “I can speak to him,” she said quietly.

Gabriel glanced at her. “You sure?”

Raphael nodded. “I know what it is he’s going through. I’ll speak to him.”

The three archangels looked at each other for a long moment before Raphael nodded and disappeared with the sound of fluttering wings. That just left Draco and Luna together with Gabriel and Lucifer.

Which…Draco wasn’t sure what to do here. He felt odd making small talk with Michael’s family, especially these two.

“Raphael knows what she’s doing,” Lucifer told Gabriel in a low voice.

Gabriel hummed in response, expression slightly distant. “Usually.” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a wry smile.

There wasn’t any other conversation, at least not where Draco or Luna could hear. He shared a commiserating look with her, then just settled in to wait.

Draco wasn’t sure how long it would take, but emotional conversations should take a while, right? If anything happened, he was relatively certain Gabriel or Lucifer would tell them with that strange link they all shared. So they could wait here—

Raphael appeared in the space she had left several minutes ago, looking not at all like she had just had an emotionally intense conversation. Draco knew Michael had trouble with telling time because angels were above human conceptions such as time, but surely a conversation couldn’t have happened that quickly?

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

Raphael glanced only briefly at him, turning her attention towards Gabriel. “He says he would like time.”

“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.”

…What the bloody hell? No. No. They weren’t just going to leave Michael like that, were they?

Luna looked just as upset, so that was good. She glanced at him, and they turned towards the angels to protest, though Gabriel beat them to it.

“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.” Raphael hesitated, looking as uncertain as Michael did sometimes. It was uncanny despite the different physical features. She sighed. “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.”

Oh, of course. That was Michael in a nutshell. He could be so very reassuring that he had everything handled.

Draco choked out a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face and pinching his nose.

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

When Draco looked up, he saw Gabriel also now rubbing a hand over his face. He seemed frustrated, which was relieving. It seemed like Gabriel wasn’t about to just let it be like he had before. It seemed like Michael had been right that Gabriel was trying.

He glanced back at Luna, who was worrying at her lower lip and looking at Gabriel. On seeing him looking, she gave him a brief smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm. She didn’t let go.

“Like this, sister?” Gabriel’s tone was warm and reassuring. He sounded…different, and Luna’s hand on Draco’s spasmed, her eyes widening.

Draco looked away from her face, watching Gabriel in confusion. Raphael seemed taken aback, the most surprised Draco had ever seen her. There was no such surprise with Lucifer, though Draco was unable to read what was on his face.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” Gabriel said, smiling. His tone was gentle, still very reassuring. “Hey, I got it handled.” He laughed, flashing a quicksilver grin that brightened his face. “It’s all good, yeah? There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Gabriel—” Raphael protested.

Luna squeezed his arm again, inhaling sharply. Draco glanced at her and then back at Gabriel, unsure of what she was seeing.

“I got this,” Gabriel said, reassuring and calm. It was much bolder than Michael’s statements but no less reassuring.

“This might make things worse,” Raphael cautioned.

Gabriel glanced at Draco and Luna, shooting them both a reassuring smile. “Things are already fucked, Raphael. Besides, fixing things is what I do.” He disappeared an instant later. Unlike with Raphael, there was no sound of wings.

Lucifer sighed, looking over at Raphael. “That is what Michael did to you. He’s very good at it – always has been. Gabriel is as well, though I can call him on his bullshit.”

Raphael’s lips were flat. “Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Lucifer said. “Not always. He’s good enough to hide from me at times.” There was a rueful twist at his mouth, a grimace of sorts.

“What was that?” Luna asked. “He…changed.”

Raphael and Lucifer both looked at her, the motion so similar Draco was reminded they really were siblings.

“He’s part human,” Lucifer said after a moment. “You probably saw his soul.”

“Is that…what I’m seeing in you, too?”

“Yes and no. I’m not part human. I’m an artificial intelligence.”

Draco checked with Luna to see if that was a term he should know and was relieved to see Luna looked just as uncomprehending.

Lucifer laughed, though the sound didn’t seem unkind. “Artificial intelligences have been theorized in Muggle books by your time. Some scientists have even made attempts at creating some, though they’re very rudimentary. What Gabriel – Tony – created is a truly self-learning program that’s able to evolve and grow on its own. You’ve met Dummy and his siblings; they’re just like me.”

That didn’t really explain much for Draco. Dummy, Butterfingers, and You seemed like humans, even if…very weird ones. That didn’t need to use the bathroom.

“Have you seen a computer?” Raphael asked them.

It was another word Draco was unfamiliar with. Thankfully Luna also shook her head.

Lucifer hummed, expression thoughtful. “Consider it…like a spell that’s able to respond to you. You have spells you can use to search for things or write things down, but what if they were suddenly able to predict what you need? Extrapolate from previous habits to determine what should be next? And what if they were able to speak to you?” On seeing understanding fill their expressions, Lucifer nodded. “There you go. That’s an artificial intelligence. Well, roughly speaking, anyway.”

It was…kind of him to explain that to them. Lucifer didn’t need to, but he had. It was…very odd.

“I’d try talking to him myself,” Lucifer said, “but for a variety of reasons that’s…not a good idea. Gabriel’s the next best bet, since he’s as stubborn as they come.”

“Michael’s pretty bloody stubborn, too,” Draco reluctantly admitted.

Lucifer snorted. “I know.” He sounded fond. “But between those two…I’d put my money on Gabriel.”

Draco wasn’t sure how much to believe Lucifer, but Raphael didn’t seem to disagree, so he supposed that meant something. 

Luna squeezed Draco’s arm again, then finally let it go. Draco had entirely forgotten she was even holding it.

“Thank you,” Luna said.

Raphael shook her head. “We should thank you instead. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

“You should have known,” Draco said.

There were twin grimaces.

“We knew,” Lucifer said. “But we were hoping it would sort itself out. Obviously it didn’t.”

Nothing ever sorted itself out with Michael unless someone went ahead and poked him. Michael was only ever insistent on change when it came to others.

“Obviously,” Draco said instead.

There was a faint, answering smile that flickered over Lucifer’s lips. 

They didn’t say anything else for some time. Draco stuffed his hands in his robe pockets and considered the artwork in the room. There were a few paintings on the walls, much less bizarre than the ones in Michael’s room and with more normal subject matter such as books, water, or a serene landscape with a tree being struck by lightning. Much more normal.

The carpets in the room were all very soft and a multitude of colors and patterns. There were some very thick blankets on the couches. Despite the ostentatious nature of this room being inside a palace, it was clear it had been designed primarily for comfort.

It was the exact opposite of a similar room in Draco’s own manor. Which was only to be expected but still disappointing.

Draco was in the middle of contemplating the design styles of the pillars when something skittered over his skin. His hairs rose on end, and he swallowed, his stomach churning with dread. Luna had also stiffened, so he wasn’t imagining things.

Yet it was Lucifer and Raphael’s reactions which alarmed him. Both of them looked in the same direction, at the far wall, clearly on edge.

Something vibrated through Draco, and it almost felt like the earth beneath his feet shifted before as suddenly as it had come, it was gone and it felt like a weight had lifted. He drew in a sharp gasp, feeling like he’d been under water.

“Was that—” Luna sounded just as breathless.

“Gabriel did it,” Raphael said, relieved.

“You should stop doubting him,” Lucifer said.

“There are very few I don’t doubt, and while Gabriel is one of them, Michael is the second. Though in this case, it does seem that Gabriel out-stubborned Michael.”

Lucifer hummed, still looking at the wall. After a moment, he glanced back at Draco and Luna. “Gabriel took him off world, but they’re fine.”

“That didn’t feel fine,” Draco said.

Lucifer shrugged, smiling crookedly. “Is that the first time Michael’s been somewhat emotional?”

Draco didn’t quite want to answer that, not to Lucifer, but Luna shook her head without hesitation.

“He probably kept it under control then, not wanting to hurt you. This was slightly different. Gabriel moved them so he could let it out.”

“Where?” Draco asked.

“Off Asgard.” Lucifer’s expression was slightly distant. “Though Gabriel’s hiding, so that’s as much as I can give you.”

Draco pressed his lips together. He had to trust Gabriel had Michael’s best interests at heart. He didn’t have a choice here.

Why couldn’t they have been enough for Michael? Why was it that his old family, the ones that had hurt him, were the ones who could speak to him and actually get him to listen? It wasn’t fair.

“You should speak to Steve.”

It took Draco a moment to realize Lucifer was speaking to him. He looked up at him, frowning. Steve?

Lucifer shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “It might help.”

“Help with what?” Draco asked warily.

“With everything between you and Michael,” Lucifer said. “I’d normally suggest Loki, but he’s…probably not the best idea here, so Steve.”

Draco went cold. “What about Michael and me?”

Lucifer took a moment to answer, watching Draco closely. “You’re in love with him.”

Mortification suffused him, hot and scorching. He wanted to turn around and run. Who else was able to see that? Was Michael? Had he just been too polite to say anything?

“Not judging,” Lucifer said gently, “but we’re not the best ones to give advice on this. I’m uninterested, as is Raphael, and Gabriel just now realized Loki’s been more invested in the relationship than Gabriel’s been. Steve was human, and he can give you some advice. He’s good at that.”

“Why do you care?” Draco forced out through numb lips.

“Michael’s my brother,” Lucifer said simply. “He cares about you. And judging by how things have been going so far, he’s never going to do anything about it.”

“I would have thought you’d be happy enough just laughing at him from the sidelines.”

Lucifer’s smile was strained. “…No. Never. It was…never like that.”

No, it was just that he’d killed Michael.

Still…Steve wasn’t terrible. He was…very Muggle, but Draco hadn’t interacted much with Muggles at all. Steve seemed nice enough. If Draco wanted to talk to him.

“You don’t have to,” Lucifer said. “It’s just a suggestion.”

Draco double-checked that his Occlumency shields were still tight, which they were.

“It may take them a while,” Lucifer said, “so no need to wait here.”

Luna grabbed hold of Draco’s arm. She hesitated for a moment. “Thank you, Samael.”

Lucifer’s smile this time looked more genuine. “Anytime, Luna.”

Draco knew that Lucifer had another name, though he hadn’t thought about using it. Not when his motives were still so unclear.

But maybe they were less so now.

“That went well,” Luna commented once they were out of the room.

Draco would reserve judgment until he saw Michael again, but he could hope, couldn’t he?

He’d let Luna tell the others what happened.

Draco saw Steve a few more times over the rest of the day, usually alongside a few of the other Muggles. Though Michael had said they were part angel now. Angel-Muggle? How did that even work?

They looked human enough, but so had Michael. Yet these also behaved human in a way Michael had never managed.

Steve seemed nice enough. The others looked up to him, usually literally as he was the tallest of Gabriel’s friends, but he also seemed the most approachable. As far as suggestions went, approaching him wasn’t a bad idea.

But it just seemed…odd. That Steve and apparently also Loki both loved Gabriel.

He considered the option for a while, staying clear of the others and their worrying over Michael. It was well into evening by the time he’d made up his mind, and then he had to find Steve, which took some time given how large the palace was.

He eventually found him in an interior courtyard, one with a small fountain burbling in the middle. There was grass and some small trees in the corners, along with benches. Steve was here, but so was Peggy, the two of them sharing one of the benches. They had drinks in hand and seemed to be sitting in companionable silence.

It was startlingly intimate, and Draco almost turned around and left before Steve noticed him and waved him over.

“I can come back,” Draco said, awkward.

“It’s fine,” Peggy assured him, smiling. She squeezed Steve’s hand.

“You can have a seat,” Steve said. He seemed to realize a moment later that he and Peggy were on the only bench and the next one was too far out of earshot to be comfortable. “Or…hm…”

Draco solved the issue by conjuring a chair. It wasn’t very comfortable, but conjuring wasn’t his specialty.

“I forgot you could do that.” Steve looked down at his hands briefly before smiling up at Draco. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Draco hesitated. “…Samael suggested it.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “She did?”

Draco blinked. “She?”

“Sam doesn’t care either way. It amuses her when people try to guess.”

Draco could see that. “What’s the right guess?”

“Ne,” Steve answered, which didn’t even sound like a word. More like a butchered “no” like how Americans butchered the English language with their accents.

“Ne,” Draco repeated slowly. “Which is…?”

“Nothing, really. When I said Sam doesn’t care, ne really doesn’t. Angels aren’t male or female; they just take pity on us.” Steve’s voice was wry.

Draco frowned, looking down at the cobblestones. He knew Michael wasn’t actually the human he looked like. He hadn’t thought further beyond that and what it meant.

“If Michael hasn’t said anything about it, it’s likely he doesn’t care either,” Steve said gently. “From what Tony’s said, they tend to go by what their vessel is. Some are different – like Sam – but it’s a safe bet usually.”

Draco leaned an elbow against an armrest, unsure exactly of how to best broach this topic. “Samael said…you’d be the best one to speak to about…relationships.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose, then lowered. “Oh. Well…” He glanced askance at Peggy, who seemed amused. “I guess…” He seemed a little embarrassed. “I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to help, but sure.”

Great. Now Draco had no idea how to ask what he wanted to know beyond being blunt.

Steve took a drink from his cup. His ears looked a little red. “I’m not actually in a relationship with Tony. That’s…Loki. It’s been too long for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Steve.” Peggy sounded reproving. “He loves you all the same.”

Steve shrugged. “I know. It doesn’t change that it’s been a very long time.”

“Some things haven’t changed.”

Steve’s smile was rueful. “No. That’s true enough.” Sighing, he looked back at Draco. “Angels don’t love like we do. Like humans,” he amended.

“I know that.” Draco barely kept the annoyance out of his voice.

“I’m not saying that to warn you off it,” Steve said. “It never worked on me before. But you need to know what that means so you can decide for yourself. For an angel…when they love something – love someone – that’s what they focus on. They make decisions based on that, on that love. It can be…dangerous, having that power.” He tapped his finger against his cup. “Castiel’s the only one I know of who’s in love with a human like that.”

Draco frowned. “But you and Gabriel… Tony…”

“He doesn’t love me like that,” Steve said plainly. “He doesn’t love Loki like that either. But he loves us all the same, differently than with others. It’s not all focused on one person.”

“He has his favorites, you mean.”

“Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.” Steve’s smile was wry. “And Michael… I don’t know him well. I don’t know him at all, really. But I can see he loves all of you.”

“I know that.” That wasn’t the issue. Michael had made that so painstakingly clear before.

Steve sighed, giving him a small smile. “I’m guessing he wanted you to find someone else and be happy?”

Draco said nothing.

Steve nodded, still with that small smile that seemed far too understanding. It would have upset Draco if it also seem entirely genuine. “They can’t love like humans. Like you do. But it doesn’t mean they can’t commit. It just means you make something of your own – something different.”

Draco looked down at the cobblestones again. “What do you have?”

“I have his friendship,” Steve said. “I also know I can talk to him and he’ll always be there for me. He gave me a home, and I’ll never forget that.”

Stealing a glance at Peggy showed no jealousy on her face, just simple understanding and love.

“You did find something else,” Draco noted.

“Ah…well…” Steve scratched at his cheek. “That was all Tony, really.”

Draco tried to imagine Michael finding him a date. For some reason he just pictured Michael dropping some random person in front of Draco and disappearing, like a cat.

“It wasn’t new,” Steve continued. “Peggy and I…we had something before I ever met Tony, but it didn’t work out at the time. Tony gave us a second chance.”

“I see.” Draco didn’t quite have that chance. It had only ever been Michael.

“We’re not the same,” Steve said. “Michael isn’t Tony. Whatever you decide to do, it’ll be yours. But you’ll have to make it yourself because it’ll never be the same as what humans have.”

Draco pulled on his sleeve, fingering the fabric. “I don’t… I don’t want pity.”

“I understand that. I wouldn’t want it either. I know Tony doesn’t do things out of pity, but I don’t know about Michael. You know him better.”

Draco couldn’t see Michael doing anything out of pity. He shook his head. “He wouldn’t.” Yet he also didn’t know if Michael would be open to the possibility of revisiting this topic. Not after he’d so clearly stated last time that Draco was too young and needed to find someone else.

“Loki might be a better idea to talk to,” Steve said after a hesitant moment.

“…Samael said he wasn’t a good idea.”

There was another moment of deliberation. “I’ll help,” Steve said firmly.

“This I have to see,” Peggy said dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes, huffing. He was smiling, though, as he stood. “Would you like to talk to him?”

Draco had only seen Loki in passing. The most he’d seen of him had been that first day, and they’d been swarmed by everyone else so Draco had never spoken a word to him. “Is he more likely to give better advice?”

Steve winced, though he was still smiling. “Well…I’m sure you’d be better able to read between the lines than I will. And he’s been involved with Tony for much longer. Otherwise I could snag Castiel somehow, but I don’t think his advice would apply. He’s…very different from the others.”

Draco wasn’t sure if Steve was aware that he made it sound like Castiel being different was a bad thing. Or maybe that was just Draco.

“Your help would be appreciated,” Draco said eventually. “I’ll speak to Loki.”

Despite this being Steve’s suggestion, he did seem a little worried. He also seemed to know exactly where to go, leading Draco unerringly to a bedroom. The style didn’t seem to fit Loki. There was too much junk in there, along with a floridly pink blanket. Loki seemed more like he preferred darker colors.

Loki was out on the balcony, not even deigning to come inside when they entered. “Is this an emergency or can it wait?”

“Not even for some old friends?” Steve said cheerfully, heading to the balcony.

Loki didn’t even turn around to face them, looking out at the twinkling lights of Asgard. “I was unaware we were friends, Steven.”

“Ally, friend, whichever you prefer.” Steve set his cup down on the railing, glancing over his shoulder at Draco. “Tony isn’t back.”

“I trust you have not come here to inform me of matters of which I am already aware.”

“Not quite.” Steve leaned against the railing, facing Loki. “Draco has some questions. I tried my best to help out, but I think your input would be more valuable.”

At this, Loki did finally look back at Draco. His green eyes briefly skimmed over Peggy before dismissing her and settling on Draco. “I assume your questions are not about the magic of this realm.”

Draco shook his head. “It’s…about your relationship with Gabriel.”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “Why would that interest you?”

It was almost like talking to another Slytherin. No matter. Draco was good at that. “From what I understand, angels don’t have relationships.”

Loki scoffed. “Gabriel is not just any angel.”

“I know he’s partly human.”

“That is not of which I speak.”

“I’m aware he’s different, but he is still an archangel, isn’t he? Steve told me a little.”

“Did he?” Loki shot an innocent Steve a sharp look. “Why are you so interested, little dragon?”

Draco resisted the urge to bristle at the name. “Michael’s my friend.”

“Yes,” Loki drawled, “a fact of which I am aware.” He paused, pinning Draco in place with a sharp look. “Gabriel is not Michael. Comparing them will not help you.”

“I’m aware they’re different,” Draco said, cross. “That isn’t why I’m asking. I’m asking you because you’re in love with Gabriel, but from what I understand, Gabriel isn’t.”

Loki was very still.

It wasn’t the same sort of pressure as with Michael, but Draco still had the impression of having poked something he shouldn’t have. He didn’t move.

When Loki spoke, his voice was silky, dark, sending shivers down Draco’s spine. “Who are you to say what Gabriel feels and does not feel?”

“Loki.” Steve’s voice was quiet. Something warm and protective curled over Draco, feeling very different than Michael.

Loki bared his teeth. “Steven.”

“I told him.” Steve’s voice was steel now. “Of all of us, I have that right.”

Loki sneered, then turned away. “You were dead, Steven. Don’t presume to know what you missed.”

“I was dead, but I wasn’t blind. I saw what happened.”

“Did you really?”

“I saw enough, and I know Tony.”

Loki turned back towards Steve, eyes glittering. “You were not the one with him over the millennia. Over the thousands and millions of years I remained by his side. You were not the one who took his mind off the loss of you, after you could no longer bear the weight of existence. Do not presume to tell me you know Gabriel after everything.”

If it had been Draco, he would very likely have called it quits here and decided to come back when Loki wasn’t quite so agitated. On the other hand, Steve didn’t budge. He just looked at Loki, lips pressed together. He would absolutely have been a Gryffindor.

“You’re right,” Steve said eventually. “You’ve spent more time with him than I have. You’ve known him longer. But he’s still Tony. And I doubt that what he told me all those years ago changed. Am I wrong?”

Loki stared at Steve for a long moment, eyes piercing, before he finally turned away again. This time it was to look at Draco. “You wish to know of my relationship?” His voice was cool. “I fail to see why you would. His brother would do you no good, but very well. He cannot give you what you seek. They are not human; they do not feel as you do. You will devote your time and energy into it but get little in return but for what they are capable of.” There was no vitriol in his tone, just a cold reiteration of facts.

Draco blinked at him, taken aback. “…You speak of that like you aren’t in a relationship with one of them.”

“Irrelevant. You wished my advice; you have it.”

“It’s relevant. You…seem to resent him.”

“Resent? No.” Loki scoffed, laughing. “I knew what he was capable of. I knew what he was able to give. The better question is, do you?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Draco asked, fingers curling in, hidden in his robes. “I’m looking for more of an explanation than one offered by one of them.” Because he loved Michael but he did know that words were not Michael’s strength.

“I fail to see why you are here,” Loki drawled. “His brother leaves much to be desired, but I suppose there is no accounting for taste.”

“I suppose not,” Draco said coolly, “as you’re speaking of matters you know nothing of.”

“Nothing?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “You were not present when Gabriel suffered as a result of his brother’s inaction. You did not see what happened because Michael refused to act.”

But Draco could see exactly why Michael had been so stuck for so long. He could see why Michael had drawn in on himself like a crumple-horned snorkack when people like Loki rubbed it into his face. “No,” he said, clipped, “but you weren’t there when he changed. When he regretted what happened and what he didn’t do. I don’t know Michael from before, but I know him now, and I like him now. He chose to continue being my friend despite everything I did. I would be a very poor friend if I held his past actions against him when he’s given me a second chance.” He paused. “A second chance people like you refuse to give him.”

“I give him nothing he does not deserve.”

“Loki.” Steve sighed, the sound reproving. “Draco. Enough.”

“You were with me at the time, Steven, or have you forgotten?”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve said wearily. “But I also don’t hold grudges like you. More importantly, it’s about Tony.”

“Gabriel forgives far too easily.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, he does, but that’s his choice, isn’t it?”

“And this is mine.” Loki turned his gaze back to Draco. “You wished my advice? Then know he cannot love you like you love him. The love he has is different, and you must decide if that is enough for you or if you would prefer that of a human.”

Draco swallowed, meeting and holding Loki’s eyes. His anger cooled slightly. He wasn’t foolish enough to turn aside advice like this. “You don’t seem the type to settle.”

Loki smirked, leaning back against the balcony railing. “I have not. His love is not the same, but it means all the more for those he gives it to. He chose me. Would your Michael choose you?”

Draco didn’t know. “I appreciate it,” he said instead. “I don’t agree with your opinion of Michael, but I appreciate that you were willing to lend your advice all the same. Thank you.” The words tasted like ash.

Loki’s smirk widened. “Well. Thor could learn something from you about how to flatter someone.” He looked back at Steve. “If there is nothing else emergent, then I would highly suggest you leave.”

Draco knew a dismissal when he heard one. He left the room with Steve and Peggy shortly behind him.

“Did that help?” Steve asked him once he closed the door.

Draco looked up at him, somewhat reminded of a large dog. “It’s given me something to think on.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Steve said. “My door’s open if you need to talk to someone about it. Or you can talk to your friends about it. I know it’s easier if you’re able to share it. And in my case…talking to Tony about it would have been really awkward.”

Ah yes. About as awkward as talking to Michael about this and getting a very stilted response because while Michael was good at many things, he was not good at emotions. Draco was very painfully aware of this.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Draco said. “Thank you for the assistance. I’ll let you two be.”

He had some things to think on.

[dfroza]

“He was heard because He approached God with reverence”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 5th chapter of the book of Hebrews:

Remember what I said earlier about the role of the high priest, even the ones chosen by human beings? The job of every high priest is reconciliation: approaching God on behalf of others and offering Him gifts and sacrifices to repair the damage caused by our sins against God and each other. The high priest should have compassion for those who are ignorant of the faith and those who fall out of the faith because he also has wrestled with human weakness, and so the priest must offer sacrifices both for his sins and for those of the people. The office of high priest and the honor that goes along with it isn’t one that someone just takes. One must be set aside, called by God, just as God called Aaron, the brother of Moses.

In the same way, the Anointed One, our Liberating King, didn’t call Himself but was appointed to His priestly office by God, who said to Him,

You are My Son.

Today I have become Your Father,

and who also says elsewhere,

You are a priest forever—

in the honored order of Melchizedek.

When Jesus was on the earth, a man of flesh and blood, He offered up prayers and pleas, groans and tears to the One who could save Him from death. He was heard because He approached God with reverence. Although He was a Son, Jesus learned obedience through the things He suffered. And once He was perfected through that suffering He became the way of eternal salvation for all those who hear and follow Him, for God appointed Him to be a High Priest in the order of Melchizedek.

I have a lot more to say about this, but it may be hard for you to follow since you’ve become dull in your understanding. By this time, you ought to be teachers yourselves, yet I feel like you want me to reteach you the most basic things that God wants you to know. It’s almost like you’re a baby again, coddled at your mother’s breast, nursing, not ready for solid food. No one who lives on milk alone can know the ins and outs of what it means to be righteous and pursue justice; that’s because he is only a baby. But solid food is for those who have come of age, for those who have learned through practice to distinguish good from evil.

The Book of Hebrews, Chapter 5 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Jesus is the Great High Priest because He serves as the ultimate mediator between God and humanity. In this role He serves as both the priest and the sacrifice that atones for sins once and for all. But we are still called to be priests for each other. These are not mutually exclusive ideas.

Whenever you share a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name or pray for someone, you’re a priest. You’re communicating the grace of God. There are times that we need a priest, too, right? If we are to be like Him, we must allow someone else to be a priest for us. There are problems so great and pains so deep and sins so intractable that we need a person of flesh and blood to join us in carrying our concerns to God.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 20th chapter of the book of Ezekiel:

During the seventh year of King Jehoiachin’s exile, on the tenth day of the fifth month, some of the elders of Israel approached me and sat down in front of me, wanting good news from the Eternal One. The word of the Eternal came to me with a message for them.

Eternal One: Son of man, talk to the elders of Israel, and tell them I have a question: “Have you come to ask questions of Me? As surely as I, the Eternal Lord live, I will not allow you to question Me.”

Will you pass judgment on them, son of man? Will you judge whether they have been serving other gods? Confront them about the shocking acts of their fathers, and tell them the Eternal Lord says that on the day I selected Israel, made an oath to the descendants of Jacob’s family, and revealed Myself to them in Egypt, I lifted My hand and swore to them, “I am the Eternal your God.” On the same day, I swore to them that I would rescue them from the land of Egypt and take them to another land I had looked for and found just for them—a land flowing with milk and honey, the most splendid of all lands. And I said to them, “Get rid of all the vile images that captivate your eyes, and do not degrade yourselves with the idols of Egypt! I am the Eternal your God.” But they rebelled against Me and refused to heed My warnings. They kept staring at the vile images and worshiping the idols of Egypt.

I was just about to pour out My anger upon them and express My wrath while they were still in Egypt, but for the sake of My good name and reputation, I decided against it. I thought it better not to profane My name in the eyes of those nations around where My people lived. After all, I had revealed Myself to them when I brought My people out of the land of Egypt and into the wilderness. I gave them My laws and commandments so that if they would follow them, they might live. I also gave them My Sabbaths as a sign that they would know that I, the Eternal One, have made them holy. But the Israelites rebelled against Me in the wilderness. They refused to follow My laws and ignored My commandments, even though they knew the one who follows them will live. They also polluted My Sabbaths and treated them like any other day.

So I said I would pour out My anger upon them and destroy them in the wilderness. For the sake of My good name and reputation, however, I chose not to profane My name in the eyes of those nations who had witnessed Me bringing the Israelites out of Egypt. Also, I raised My hand and swore to them in the wilderness that I would not bring them into the land I had given them—a land flowing with milk and honey, the most splendid of all lands! I swore this to them because they ignored My rules and strayed from My laws and polluted My Sabbaths; for they were completely devoted to their idols. I looked on them with mercy, and I did not destroy them in the wilderness.

I told their children in the wilderness, “Do not follow the example set by your fathers. Do not live by their standards or degrade yourselves with their idols. I, the Eternal One, am your God. Follow My laws and remember to obey My rules. Keep My Sabbaths holy as signs between us so you will know I, the Eternal, am your God.” But the children also rebelled against Me. They strayed from My laws and ignored My commandments, even though they knew that one who follows My rules will live. They polluted My Sabbaths, and they were not careful to keep My rules. So I told them that I would pour out My anger upon them and express My wrath against them in the wilderness. But for the sake of My good name and reputation, I suspended their punishment. I chose not to profane My name in the eyes of those nations who had witnessed Me bringing the Israelites out of Egypt. Also, I swore to them in the wilderness that I would scatter them among those nations and cast them out into unfamiliar lands because they had refused to obey My rules and rejected My laws. Instead, their eyes were devoted to their fathers’ breathless idols, and they polluted My Sabbaths. I handed them over to bad laws and rules that could not lead to life. I declared them ritually impure because they were giving every firstborn child as a burnt sacrifice to pagan gods. I did this to horrify them, so that they would know I am the Eternal One.

Therefore, son of man, confront the people of Israel and tell them the Eternal Lord says, “Your fathers showed their contempt for Me and betrayed Me. When I brought them into the land I had solemnly promised to give them, they offered their sacrifices on every high hill and under every shade tree they saw. In the land I gave them, they irritated Me with their offerings. They burned fragrant incense and poured out their drink offerings there. I asked them, ‘What is this shrine you visit?’”

To this day, a shrine is called a “high place.”

Eternal One: Therefore, tell the people of Israel that the Eternal Lord says if you degrade yourselves in the same ways your fathers did—prostituting yourselves to the same foul, breathless images, giving your children to them as burnt offerings, and degrading yourselves with those idols still today—do you think I should allow you to ask questions of Me, Israel? As surely as I live, I, the Eternal, say I will not allow you to ask Me anything.

You entertain thoughts such as, “We want to be like the other nations, like the other people of the world who serve idols made of wood and stone.” But your secret thoughts will never become a reality.

As surely as I live, I, the Eternal Lord, proclaim I will rule as your king with a fierce and mighty hand, an outstretched arm, and an overflowing wrath. With My power, I will bring you out of the nations and gather you from the unfamiliar lands where you have been scattered. I will bring you into the wilderness of nations, and I will personally render My judgment upon you. I will judge you in the same way I judged your fathers in the wilderness that lies east of the land of Egypt.

I will have you pass under My rod, and I will make you live up to the terms of the covenant. I will get rid of the rebels and traitors among you. I may bring them out of the lands where they are exiled, but I will not allow them back to the land of Israel. Then you will know that I am the Eternal One.

(to the people of Israel) Go ahead and worship your idols—all of you! Eventually, you will see that what you are doing is pointless. Then you will start listening to Me and stop profaning My sacred name with your gifts and false gods. There upon the high mountain of Israel, which is My holy mountain residence, all the people of Israel will worship and serve Me when they return to the land. There I will accept them. There I will expect your gifts and your firstfruit offerings, with all of your other sacred duties to Me. When I bring you out from the nations and gather you from the unfamiliar lands where you have been scattered, I will accept you as a pleasant aroma. I will put My holiness on display by the way you live as all the world watches! You will know that I am the Eternal One when I bring you into the land of Israel—the splendid land I solemnly promised to give your ancestors. Then and there, you will remember your wrong turns and all of the wicked things you have done to degrade yourselves, and you will hate yourselves every time you see your reflection because of all the evil things you have done. You will know, O people of Israel, that I am the Eternal when I deal fairly with you in order to protect My good name and reputation, and not out of My frustration toward your wickedness and mindless corruption.

So said the Eternal One.

The word of the Eternal came to me with a parable.

Eternal One: Son of man, look south! Preach against the south, and prophesy against forests in the Negev. Tell the southern forest to listen to the word of the Eternal. The Eternal Lord says, “I am about to set you on fire, and it will spread and devour all of your trees—both green and dry. The raging fire will not be put out! Everything and everyone from south to north will be scorched by it. Then everyone will see that I, the Eternal One, started the unquenchable fire!”

Ezekiel: Eternal Lord, they are all talking about me, saying, “He’s just speaking in parables.”

The Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 20 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, november 16 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the choices we make, for better or for worse:

"How can you expect to dwell with God forever, if you so neglect and forsake him here?" - Jonathan Edwards

====

From our Torah this week (i.e., parashat Toldot) we read: “Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew (לֶחֶם וּנְזִיד), and he ate and drank and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised (בָּזָה) his birthright (בְּכרָה)” (Gen. 25:34). Esau esteemed the honor of being the firstborn son (i.e, bechor: בְּכוֹר) – the high priest of the family – as worth a “bowl of beans” when compared with the drive of his lower nature, and so he tragically forfeited the blessing of God... Far from regarding service to God as a divine privilege and wonderful opportunity to benefit his family, Esau wanted to be free of such responsibilities and therefore discredited the meaning and promise of faith. Note that the Hebrew word for “lentil stew” (or pottage) is nazid (נָזִיד), which comes from a Hebrew word that means “to boil up” in pride (i.e., zid: זִיד). Sadly, Esau was consumed with his own interests and regarded them as more important than the things of God.

Note further that most English translations of the Hebrew text (i.e., Gen. 25:34) seem to suggest that because he bartered his birthright, Esau had therefore disparaged it, but the text implies continuity: in other words, after he ate, drank, and went his way, then Esau rationalized his bad decision by disparaging its importance…

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

Jonah 2:8 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jonah2-8-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jonah2-8-lesson.pdf

11.14.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

God is watching who stands with Israel and supports Israel in this time of war, and He is watching those who oppose her. I also see that God is bringing into focus Israel’s covenant biblical claims to the land of Israel, and her right to this land. May it ever be that we do not forget the promises of God made to Israel through Abraham.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

November 16, 2023

Earnestly Contend

“It was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” (Jude 1:3)

After Jude had responded to the Holy Spirit’s prompting to direct his thoughts away from writing a gospel account, the intensity of the growing battle for “the faith” came into focus. Perhaps Jude was aware of Paul’s observation that we do not “wrestle” against ordinary forces, but our battle deals with the “spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12).

The special word chosen by the Holy Spirit to speak to this struggle in Jude’s letter was epagonizomai. The core word (agonizomai) is used in the famous passage “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7). Paul also notes what “great conflict” he felt for the church at Colosse (Colossians 2:1) and that Epaphras was “always labouring fervently” for them in his prayers (Colossians 4:12).

The object of this spiritual struggle was “the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” Two matters are of importance in that little phrase. First, “the faith” is a specific designation used in the New Testament to incorporate the basic doctrines of the New Covenant. It does include, but does not limit itself to, the belief that results in salvation. The early churches were “established in the faith” (Acts 16:5). We are to “stand fast in the faith” (1 Corinthians 16:13) and to come to a “unity of the faith” (Ephesians 4:13).

Second, that body of doctrine was “once delivered to the saints.” Implicit in that comment is the responsibility of the Holy Spirit to “guide [the apostles] into all truth” (John 16:13). Both Old and New Testaments insist that we are not to add to or subtract from the words of God’s Word. Jude’s epistle emphasizes the awful judgment that comes upon those who would distort or disdain what is “the faith.” HMM III

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade We're ready to make Nigeria aviation hub of Africa- Federal Government The Minister of Aviation and Aerospace Development, Mr Festus Keyamo says the Federal Government is ready to make Nigeria the aviation hub of Africa. Keyamo sated at the seventh edition of the Aviation Africa Summit and Exhibition 2023 this on Wednesday in Abuja. According to him, the current administration was ready to achieve the feat by tackling challenges in the aviation industry to attract foreign investors. “The government is already looking at the Aircraft Leasing Company, Aircraft Maintenance Organisation, Forex availability and Tax holidays to improve the aviation business in Nigeria ” This includes upgrading of the Cat3 landing system, at major airports, construction of the second runway in Abuja, airport improvement programmes through concession and government willingness to partner with companies to turn major airports into Aerotropolis. “The government welcomes major players in aircraft leasing and Head lessors to invest in Nigeria airlines to provide state of the art aircraft,” he said. Keyamo said the government would ensure enforcement of contract agreements, rights of investors and indeed all parties were protected as Nigeria being a signatory to the Cape Town Convention to uphold international obligations. The minister said Maintenance, Repair and Overhaul (MRO) facility was another critical component that could make the Nigerian aviation industry a hub on the continent. ” With the shortage of qualified engineers, the current administration is willing to provide all the necessary support for the establishment of a world class MROS and training organisation. “The current administration is aware that one of the setbacks entrepreneurs have suffered in Nigeria in recent years is the fluctuation of foreign exchange and its availability. “This administration is committed to ensuring that forex is readily available to entrepreneurs and I have directed that the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) holds quarterly reconciliation meetings with a view to resolve this issue,” he said. He further explained that the current administration was open to providing tax holidays to encourage existing and new entrants into the Nigerian Aviation Sector. ” I wish to reiterate that my administration, will continue to sustain the support being given to the industry. “I firmly believe that as key players and decision makers, this summit will provide the required atmosphere for you to discuss, and identify recovery strategies that would attract private investors to support the funding of infrastructure projects. “By building a transparent, stable and predictable investment climate, as well as include aviation in the continent’s national development plans. “Nigeria is honoured to have these distinguished captains of aviation industry and industry stakeholders, from all over the world who are participating in this event,” he said. #WerereadytomakeNigeriaAviationhubofAfricasaysFG

[ancestorsofjudah]

1 Kings 10: 18-22. "The Great Throne."

Lions, the instinct man has for just rulership, eat gazelles, the little doe eyed boys that don't yet understand how law and order work quite yet. The process in Judaism begins early in life, how predators protect the weak.

The apex predator according to the Religion is the King of Israel, who sits atop a great throne:

18 Then the king made a great throne covered with ivory and overlaid with fine gold. 

The throne of God is the reigning centre of God in the Abrahamic religions: primarily Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The throne is said by various holy books to reside beyond the Seventh Heaven which is called Araboth (Hebrew: עֲרָבוֹת 'ărāḇōṯ) in Judaism.

Ivory has a Gematria of 1239, אבגט‎‎ abgate, "the supreme from the farthest shore". To overlay in gold is to preserve the inner and outer appearance of balance between the cometing forces that interfere with the pure expression of the Sefirot by the one who takes the Big Seat:

"The Ark itself was made of wood. Yet, the verse (Exodus 25:11) tells us, “And you shall overlay it with pure gold, from inside and from outside.”

The Jews fulfilled this directive by making three boxes tucked into each other. The larger, visible box was made of pure gold. Inside it, they placed a box of acacia wood. Then a second golden box was placed inside the wooden one. Thus, the middle wooden box was covered with gold inside and out.3

What does this teach us about our personal Mishkans?

We, too, have three layers. The innermost dimension of the soul is “pure gold.” This is our “G‑dly spark”—that part of our subconscious that can never be tainted, just like gold, which is an inorganic element not subject to change.

Next comes the more visible part of our soul: our personality. Feelings, attitudes, moods—the part of us that fluctuates constantly. Like wood, these can either be exquisite and beautiful (our idealistic, spiritual moments), or rotten (the moments filled with depression and negative desires)."

19 The throne had six steps, and its back had a rounded top. On both sides of the seat were armrests, with a lion standing beside each of them. 

A good ruler must never have a guilty conscience. In order for Solomon to rule wisely with justice and compassion in his heart and mind, he needed to understand Teshuvah and Shauvot (like the rest of us!) and be of a sound mind and ritually pure soul.

Teshuvah are the Six Steps of Atonement and Reconciliation. They are performed in tandem with the special Shabbat performed during Pesach. Then comes Shavuot, the "weeks" that followed, which culiminate in the receipt of the Torah.

To rule deep within oneself, then outside and ensure the marks of social and corporate justice are met, one must soul search as during an observance of Pesach, what is one hearing and seeing, and what is one going to do about it?

Then comes the process of actively referring to the Torah which has already been deposited by God, the Temple, one's parents and culture in its place in one's final judgement. This is the Shavuot.

20 Twelve lions stood on the six steps, one at either end of each step. Nothing like it had ever been made for any other kingdom. 

The Twelve Lions representr the majesty of mental achivement signified by the 12 Noble Skills, AKA the 12 Tribes of Israel.

21 All King Solomon’s goblets were gold, and all the household articles in the Palace of the Forest of Lebanon were pure gold. Nothing was made of silver, because silver was considered of little value in Solomon’s days. 

22 The king had a fleet of trading ships[h] at sea along with the ships of Hiram. Once every three years it returned, carrying gold, silver and ivory, and apes and baboons.

All of King Solomon's goblets were made of and meant to serve up the spoils of God, for neither are possible without a community of intelligent and artfully trained persons who are not making war. Along with civil rights, Solomon placed his valuables in his Forest Palace, at a location cleared specifically for the purposes of cultivating a just and peaceful place for people to live.

Trading ships are vehicles of scholarship. We know Hiram brought the Hindoo School into the mix, but Solomon didn't stop there. In addition to bringing new learned men into his kingdom, Solomon lured apes and babboons, persons on the fringes, into schools and institutions of learning so they too could one day aspire to the Throne of Israel.

All of these things the King of Israel pursued like a hungry predator. Thus is the Kabbalah of the Great Lion Throne.

[christopherau-young]

"Homelessness, Addiction, and Incarceration"

Article written by: Christopher Au-Young

Disclaimer: To protect the privacy of individuals, some names and identifying details mentioned below have been changed.

It's one thing to be living on the streets, but what leads to so many homeless people getting arrested? 

One such individual told me about his experience in and out of jail and what he thinks is the problem. For the most part, the majority of nonviolent offenders at the local County Jail in Florida are here on drug charges. Jacob Mansolo is here on drug and trespassing charges. This is his seventh time in jail; he is also homeless and struggling with addiction.  According to him, most people experiencing homelessness who come here are also arrested for similar offenses. While it might not be uncommon for the homeless population to occupy an empty lot or property, the county looks down upon such behavior. The county has a zero-tolerance policy for vagrancy, and Jacob says it's because homelessness drives down property value. As a result, many people living on the streets of the local county are arrested for allegedly trespassing on private and not-so-private properties. Regarding his current situation, Jacob says it's no one's fault but his own. He's been living on the streets on and off for twenty years since he was seventeen years old. 

He first started using drugs at fourteen years old, and after a while of not knowing, his mother became aware of her son's drug-using habits when she came home one day from work and found Jacob using needles. 

Jacob said he tried to quit over the years but couldn't. His relationship with his mother fell apart after he started stealing things from her, including many of her prized possessions. He said he drove her away, causing her to leave and move out when he was seventeen. On his own at an early age, Jacob admits he never sought out help, opting to steal food from gas stations like "Wawa's," for example, to survive. Like many people in the jail, Jacob is a frequent drug user and has lived a life plagued with problems that stem from his addiction, including the issue of homelessness. The most extended period he went without being homeless was three years. During this time, he was working two jobs and renting a room in a house. His luck changed when the company he was working for changed its policies, resulting in Jacob no longer being able to receive money under the table. Furthermore, he spent his rent money on drugs, forcing him to move out and become homeless again. 

Regarding his relationship with his mother, Jacob says they were on the path to reconciliation, having discussed the possibility of moving back in with her and getting off drugs. Sadly, his mother passed away on July 4, 2022, before he could fully reconnect with her and get his life straight.

When asked about his regrets, he starts by saying how he treated his mother. He doesn't harbor any resentment toward her or blame her for being homeless. Instead, he is remorseful and takes accountability for his actions. Jacob's other attempts to stay off the streets have been unsuccessful, including his first brush with the law in 2017. At the time, he was working and living with his girlfriend; however, things worsened after their relationship became toxic. Recalling her drinking habits, Jacob says she became abusive, leading them into fights, which resulted in him getting arrested for domestic violence. The first time he got arrested was a few years back for domestic abuse; he stayed with her after explaining it was either that or homelessness. 

As far as his current legal situation goes, he's here on meth possession and trespassing. Most people with drug charges are sent to drug court when given the option of probation. According to Jacob, probation is a set-up for failure, knowing that drug addicts are unable or unwilling to stop using drugs. 

Jacob indicates that he'd rather be sentenced to jail now than be sentenced to more time later. One example of these programs is "Westare," a 12-step rehabilitation program offered by the jail that many participants drop out of due to not being ready to stop using drugs. Jacob says that it's common to initially sign up for the program to avoid doing hard time. Despite dire circumstances, Jacob believes homeless people can get back on their feet. Following their release from jail, they can turn to different places for help, with the first being "Safe Harbor," which is located right next door to the jail. The second option is “Tent City,” where they help homeless people find semi-permanent housing. Jacob says it's possible to bounce back from his circumstances, saying that for homeless addicts to improve their situation, they must first want to get help. 

[frstndlstlns]

Dead Man’s Ransom

On that day, which was the seventh of February of the year of Our lord 1141, they had offered special prayers at every office, not for the victory of one party or the defeat of another in the battlefields of the north, but for better counsel, for reconciliation, for the sparing of blood-letting and the respect of life between men and the same country — all desirable consummations, as Brother Cadfael sighed to himself even as he prayed, but very unlikely to be answered in this torn and fragment land with any but a very dusty answer.

But even God, when he intends mercy, needs tools to his hand.

— Ellis Peters