#technically pre-slash but they're getting there

[ind1c0lite]

working late at night (at least that's what they're telling themselves)

[dustykneed]

OKAY YALL. jim totally has movie nights/show watching nights with bones and spock (jim's captain's quarters have this big retractable screen meant for conference calls or viewing ship logs but obviously it also effectively doubles as a giant tv screen!!) and it basically turns into sleepover night where they have fun doing the fun kiddy shit they deserve (after bones and jim nearly started brawling after jim wiped the floor at monopoly via "underhanded GODDAMN tactics" according to bones, spock has made a note never to attempt to bring up monopoly on movie nights EVER AGAIN)

but also consider: pre-slash spones watching a show and arguing about favourite characters ("Your parameters for selecting a 'favourite character' are most illogical, Doctor." "Favouritism is favouritism, Spock! I couldn't give a rat's ass about goddamned logic!") but agreeing that their favourite chars would make a great couple ("It would be illogical to deny the high compatibility of these characters. One might be inclined to infer that their opposing characteristics may in fact be complementary and hence conducive to an optimal relationship." "By God, just say that ya think they look good together, Spock!") EXCEPT THEIR FAVOURITE CHARACTERS ARE BASICALLY THEMSELVES RESPECTIVELY lmao

jim is sitting next to them on the couch watching them argue shaking his head like it is So obvious ya doofuses GET TOGETHER ALREADY

until this new character (extremely jim-coded) is introduced in the next season who has shockingly intense chemistry with each of the bones/spock coded chars individually. Which starts a whole ship war between bones and spock, who, ironically, ship the other's character with the new one, and go ham on trying to prove (quoting scenes, acting choices, prop choices, even theorising about behind-the-scenes agendas) that they're right about their ship. jim thinks it's absolutely fucking hilarious seeing his best friends come extremely close to duking it the fuck out on his couch over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, GUYS, COME ON. all the while bones and spock are losing their fucking minds because occasionally their own favourite characters will have Moments and they'll go insane trying to figure out which ship is definitively endgame. they have a bet going that whoever has their ship sunk will have to hand over a quarter of their lab time to the victor and act as assistant while the other uses the time to work on their own experiments.

jim thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen- UNTIL ON THE LAST EPISODE OF THE SEASON ALL THREE CHARACTERS GET TOGETHER. jim (who has Known how much the character dynamics reflected the triumvirate themselves all along) is completely fucking speechless and has a huuuuge epiphany about his own feelings for spock and bones. meanwhile bones (speechless with pure unfettered rage both at the fact that technically he was wrong but also HOW COULD HE NOT HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE???) and spock (kicking himself mentally for not having considered this possibility previously) are about to argue (all while jim is spiralling lmfao) when the bones-coded character says something like "huh. I guess we were so focused on trying to pair up that we forgot we worked best together as a trio." and bones starts to Get It, and then spock also starts to Get It, and they turn to jim, who gets that they Get It, and begins to giggle hysterically, and it is so contagious that bones starts to die of laughter and even spock cracks a chuckle.

Later, when they're all lying in jim's giant bed sleepy and happy and satisfied, cuddled together and cozy as hell, jim tells them that he's sorta known they (spones) would get together like in the show all along but he doesn't know how he didn't figure out where he came into the equation until now when it was so obvious!! and bones tells him he thinks he had always loved jim and spock but for some reason it took months and months of ship wars to see it (lol) which he's definitely glad for despite the high blood pressure every time he and spock would argue. and spock presses a kiss to the corner of jim's mouth and two fingers to bones' own, and whispers that for once, he agrees fully with leonard on the matters of their new favourite ship. jim doesn't think he's ever grinned that wide in his entire fucking life.

[guest-1-2-3]

Some Zukka Canon Divergence Fic Recs !

I'm a little bit insane about zukka canon divergence so here are some that I really enjoyed! All of these are on ao3 :)

Boomerangs and Rainbows by Mindbending, Rated T, 67,555 words, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death: One of my favorite Zukka canon divergence fics ever! Zuko dies at the North Pole and ends up haunting Sokka as a ghost. I am in love with how this author showed their developing relationship and trust in each other and it's just !! such a great plot, writing style, execution, and character writing.

Blue by bealeciphers, Rated T, 192,682 words, Graphic Depictions of Violence: Ba Sing Se + Blue Spirit zukka canon divergence 👀 A lot of crazy identity shenanigans with this one. This is Zuko pov so it has a lot of focus on Zuko's inner struggle, character arc, identity, and emotions and I think the author did really well! I really enjoyed reading this and seeing the,,,complicated identity concealment zukka going on here that led to some excellent conflict and complicated falling in love!

Operation Leverage by snowandfire, Rated T, 50,723 words, No Archive Warnings Apply: From Ba Sing Se onwards! Zukka fake dating au as Sokka forces Zuko to tell him stuff about fire nation culture :D I liked seeing them get closer! Enemies to friends to lovers my beloved

Leaving it All Behind by Sreeder, Rated M, 259,815 words, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Torture, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault: This one is for those of you who like reading the dark stuff. I am someone who mostly likes to read more lighthearted things but I read this fic on recommendation and wow is it well-written! Sokka is captured during the siege on the Northern Water Tribe and sent to Zhao's prison camp. He runs into Zuko, and they eventually start working to escape together and get closer in the process. Very slowburn, very intense and dark, graphic depictions of torture and death. This has a completed sequel that continues their journey as well as a third book currently in the works!

I'm Not Angry Anymore by team_avatars_eyebags, Rated T, 69,430 words, No Archive Warnings Apply: Alternate universe where Zuko and Iroh have been peacefully living on Kyoshi Island with secret identities for a good chunk of Zuko's banishment and then the gaang shows up and throw Zuko's entire semblance of peace and contentment out the window! This whole fic is technically pre-slash but I liked the concept and story too much to not include it here lol

boys are more trouble than they're worth by lesbianspikespiegel, Rated T, 11,128 words, No Archive Warnings Apply: Some nice pretty fluffy and humorous Ba Sing Se Zukka! Getting to know each other, getting together, and the struggle of scrambling to hide your secret relationship from your friend group. Overall a very light-hearted and funny fic :D

[blueskittlesart]

Sorry in advance for how long this ask is. Botw was the first zelda game I played to completion, I played a tiny bit of twilight princess when I was younger purely because you could be a dog, the first dungeon of wind waker, and I have fond memories of both loving and sucking at skyward sword on the wii but ultimately I was just too young and easily distracted by games I was actually good at, and therefore less frustrated by, to have the attention span to beat a zelda game. I think I would have beat skyward sword if not for the motion controls being very frustrating.

Anyway, I played totk and then obsessively read your big zelda doc and basically every post you've ever made about zelda and now I'm insane. Thank you. I didn't have totk spoilers blacklisted at first because I assumed I wouldn't care because I never care about spoilers and then I saw your posts when you were finishing the dragon tears questline and it made me stop just running around doing sidequests and focus down the main quest like crazy.

I'm trying to decide whether to play skyward sword remastered or hrule warriors age of calamity (which I did very much enjoy the demo of) next and was wondering what you'd recommend. I did try to play ocarina of time on 3ds and I WILL go back to it once I stop being so mad at myself about dying in the first dungeon and also maybe give in to using a guide because I don't need to get a Good Grade in Zelda, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

HIII i'm so glad i could be your introduction to zelda lore!! the question of aoc vs sksw really depends on what exactly you're hoping to get out of your gameplay experience imo.

aoc has its. decent points. i will say this. but the 2 most important things to know about it going in are 1. IT IS NOT CANON and none of the events within it actually correspond to anything that happened pre-botw, and 2. its gameplay is NOT zelda gameplay, it's dynasty warriors gameplay. you've already played the demo so you have some understanding of the gameplay, but you should know that that's ALL there is to aoc, and if you don't enjoy hours upon hours of hack-and-slash large-group combat, you're not going to have a ton of fun playing aoc. there is technically a story tying aoc together, and it has its moments, but they're few and far between. mostly it just kind of sucks. if what you're looking for out of this is a well-written story similar to the experience of botw/totk, i would not recommend aoc.

the most important thing i'd tell you about sksw is that even thought this one IS canon, the gameplay is still gonna be noticeably different from botw/totk. sksw is much closer to the classic zelda formula than the games you're most familiar with, and is actually smaller and more linear than games like oot and wind waker. the gameplay is also almost entirely dungeon-based, and those dungeons are gonna be noticeably harder than the botw/totk ones. what sksw DOES really deliver on is story!! i'd say it's comparable to botw with the way in which the story is told and the subject matter it works with. like i said, it depends on what experience you're looking to get! personally i would go with sksw but. we all know how story-focused i am LMAO

[wetbloodworm]

some somaverse thoughts. yeah the monsterfucker-slash-vore-enthusiast is talking about the soul-eating part of the storyline again, huge shocker.

i've generally imagined when a person gets part of their soul taken, they go into a bit of a stupor. still technically conscious, but not aware. souls aren't SUPPOSED to be removed, not even in pieces, so the soul and brain just kinda gotta reboot. they got no fucking clue what happened. that's the biggest in-lore explanation, out-of-lore it's because i need somaphors to be able to hide a bit better. if they can be caught right away, like if the person is aware while their soul is taken and right after, then either somaphors can only take bits of souls while they're not possessing a body and can't be seen, or the body thieves get caught immediately and humans know they exist. since monsters are largely a secret and also i want somaphors to not have to kill their victims (usually), it works the way i've outlined. once a somaphor starts taking a soul/part of one the victim is put into an unaware state and have a short dazed period they don't remember afterward. gives the somaphor a chance to get away completely or find an inconspicuous place to be for when the person-comes to.

one part logistics, one part fleshing out a bit of the pre-skip story.

specifically thinking about the way the memory aspect works. i've got memory tied to the soul in this universe, so when a creature eats someone's soul it gets all their memories. if a creature eats PART of someone's soul, it gets just some. i've made it so it works reverse chronologically: have just a little soul snack, get the person's most recent memories. this makes it more consistent and easier for me to figure out for narrative purposes lol

i'm also thinking that, depending on how much was taken, the human mind will kind of just. ignore the missing time. sometimes fills in the blanks as best it can: person last remembers being at home, comes back to awareness in the break room at work two hours later, they'll move forward as if they just zoned out as their brain assumes they just got from point a to point b in a straightforward fashion. probably feels a bit fuzzy and vaguely unwell but only gets really confused if they actively try to remember the missing period. start pulling at the bandaid their brain slapped on the problem.

this bandaid doesn't work for longer missing periods - if the somaphor eats too much - as missing a full day or week will be too much to excuse. people start being aware of the gap almost immediately. as this leads to distress and alarm more consistently, somaphors generally try to really be careful with how much of a soul they take. mostly don't want to draw the potential attention of hunters, but there's also often a factor of not wanting to really freak out their victim. somaphors are just hungry, not inherently malicious. a missing hour can be alarming but not as much as a missing week. younger somaphors need monitoring when they're eating from victims they don't intend to essentially kill, as knowing when to stop isn't an inherent skill. gotta learn.

an example in the story happens pre skip. asim is doing something at home, gets a call from a cousin about needing help on a hunt near the college. asim goes and helps out, heads into the college after to pick something up he'd forgotten earlier in the day. happens to run into achlys mid-soul-snack on some rando. achlys panics, does a snack on asim too in order to steal the last hour or so from him, specifically just to get the last few minutes but he's not THAT precise. achlys gently sends both dazed victims wandering down the halls before getting the fuck out of there (partly because he just go the memory showing asim is a hunter and he needs to LEAVE and PANIC SOME MORE). asim comes to in the hallway of his college, feeling a bit unwell, and vaguely remembering being home and coming to the college to pick up the thing he needed. just gets back to doing that.

only starts getting suspicious later that night when he finds a bandaged minor injury he doesn't remember receiving or bandaging, like probably happened on a hunt but he hasn't been on one since last week? and it seems fresh?? thinks back and while searching his memory he realizes there's just kind of a blank spot there when usually his memory is pretty good. since he's a hunter his first thought is 'oh some supernatural bs is going on' and starts digging deeper. finds his cousin's number in his call history, starts talking with them, finds out there's a whole fucking hunt he just forgot?? this whole scenario ends with asim breaking into the college to check the camera footage and. well. he doesn't see The Event but he sees who was coming and going that late at night.

gotta have this all work like this so achlys doesn't get stabbed the second he's released asim, for starters lmao

originally this post wasn't meant to have Plot but well, i go where my brain takes me. i am subject to Whims. so here we are. life is beautiful.

im trying to remember if there was more i wanted to talk about but i'm at a restaurant for a work lunch and i can't think. i'm overstimulated and anxious. we'll write more later if there's more

[graysongraysoff]

Hi quick q

When you tag something genfic/see something tagged genfic

In your mind does like. Pre-romantic stuff fit in there? Like these characters get together/are clearly going to get together and maybe they're not technically together yet but it's like. At the very least heavily implied?

I just. Saw someone tag something as genfic and then also tag Pre-Slash and Surprise Kissing and I'm kinda like. That's. Not gen. But am I alone in that?

[fandom-space-princess]

Every Day's Most Quiet Need

midam week prompt 5: whisper - (v) speak very softly using one's breath without one's vocal cords, especially for the sake of privacy/(n) a soft or confidential tone of voice; a whispered word or phrase

Rating: Teen [2.5k words, a tiny bit h/c, mostly just sort of sweet]

Some things can't be spoken aloud. The only way to get them out is to say them as softly as you can.

read below the cut, or on AO3

When Adam thinks of whispers, he thinks of Michael's wings.

-----

"Michael? Why are you shivering?"

Maybe a silly question. The Cage is cold. An understatement, of course, but trying to hyperbolize about it has never taken the sting out. No matter how Adam tries to wrap it up in description, thinking of it as frozen as the Arctic tundra or the original ice cube or goddamn Minneapolis in February is never enough to distract from bitter reality.

So: the Cage is cold.

Shouldn't matter, though, and usually it doesn't. Michael is an inferno inside his chest, and he runs hot even by angelic standards (at least, according to him; not that Adam has any basis for comparison). Adam barely registers the frigidity of the place, and as far as he knows the cold bothers Michael not at all, either from his vantage in Adam's head or, as he's taken to doing more and more lately, manifesting as a separate presence.

Not that he's really asked. They've been down here for close to two hundred years, and it's only the last fifty or so that the rapport between them has been something resembling friendly.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Michael curls himself up smaller near the wall of the Cage, knees clasped to his chest, and slips into what Adam has privately begun to refer to as his Stoic Angel Face. The juxtaposition strikes him as odd: this intense, commanding creature, tucked into the corner like a human child, tight with tension, but wearing an expression that would seem more at home on a commander of armies, or carved into a mountainside.

Adam has been looking at Michael for two centuries, though. He's getting good at spotting the cracks in his masks.

He settles himself down next to Michael, a bare few inches separating them. "Ok. Say I believe you. You're still pretty clearly uncomfortable right now. Can I... is there anything I can do to help?" He rests a hand cautiously on Michael's arm, watching his face closely. Doesn't miss the flicker of Michael's eyes to where they touch, then away again, tight and guilty like he doesn't want Adam to see.

He leans into it, though, and Adam shifts to press into his side, shoulder to shoulder.

This close, he can feel the fine shivers still running through Michael's frame. Can make out the shallowness of his breathing.

"Michael. Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't usually hang around out here when you want to be left alone. So what's up?"

Michael sighs. "As you say, I am merely uncomfortable. I — the last time we fought —" He nods across the Cage, at the far shadowy corner where Lucifer broods in solitude, "— I sustained a few... minor injuries. Injuries I am incapable of healing except by waiting for my grace to recover. In much the same way as your body would heal naturally."

Adam blinks. He doesn't know what he'd expected, but that — that wasn't it. Lucifer and Michael often scrap with each other. When they first arrived, it had been out of genuine fury. But as they have settled into a more permanent resignation to life in this place, Adam has come to suspect that their ongoing fighting is mostly out of habit, and frustration.

At least now they do it in their own forms. Being conscripted into participation on a physical level, especially when Sam had still been present, had not been among Adam's favorite activities.

He casts his gaze over Michael, critically. "You don't look injured anywhere that I can see. Is it — it's an angel thing, isn't it."

"Yes." Michael fidgets against the wall. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Another bitter sigh. With a face like he regrets ever consenting to participate in this conversation at all, Michael mutters, "My wings hurt."

"Your... oh." He understands, suddenly, why Michael is reluctant to talk about this. While there is no longer any aspect of each other that either of them is uncomfortable with, at least on a physical level (Adam's body has been home to both archangelic grace and human soul for an order of magnitude longer than he had ever occupied it alone), Michael's wings aren't entirely physical, even by his particularly lax definition of the term. They're tied up too closely with his grace, with his power, with his place in Heaven and the burdens that come with it. Adam has seen them, time to time, out of the corner of his eye. Knows that Michael can and does manifest them when he's coping with some severe emotion.

Usually violence. Or fear.

He fidgets again, and shivers, and the emotionless mask he tries to keep in place is betrayed by the tightness around his eyes. Adam realizes that he's never seen Michael look quite so shaky, quite so miserable. How much pain does it take, he wonders, to make the Sword of Heaven look like he wants nothing more than to sink into merciful unconsciousness?

Which is a good point, actually.

"I know you've gotten in fights before, bad ones. I've never seen you like this." He nudges Michael gently with his shoulder. "What's so different now? Is it that we're stuck here, something about the Cage?"

"No, it's... well. To be blunt: I have never injured part of my noncorporeal form this badly while also possessing a corporeal one." His voice has dropped to a low murmur, and Adam tilts his head closer. He's curled in on himself, as though making himself as small as he can. "If I were to leave you, I could tend to the problem much more quickly. Given our circumstances, that would likely be unpleasant for me, and fatal for you." His eyes dart to Adam, then away again.

Oh.

"You'd rather be in pain then risk hurting me?" Adam asks softly.

A scowl is all the acknowledgement he gets for his trouble, before Michael returns to staring fixedly off into the middle distance.

"I care about you too, you know," he says. He rests a hand on the archangel's arm again, in reassurance. Once again, he leans into the contact, a response which seems almost involuntary.

Interesting.

Testing a theory, Adam leans back against the wall of the Cage. Slowly, allowing Michael time to object if desired, he stretches an arm out and settles it lightly over his shoulders. Michael goes utterly still, and Adam wonders if he's made a mistake. He's about to draw back, offer an apology, when some measure of the tension leaves Michael's frame and he relaxes fractionally against Adam.

"You'd tell me if there was anything I could do to help, right? I want to know, if there is."

"I don't want to presume upon you further than I already have. Given time, I'll be fine."

"So there is something. Come on, halo, out with it. Let me help."

Michael frowns, then shivers again, appears to reach a decision.

"Fine." He uncoils himself from Adam's embrace, and moves to kneel a few feet away. Pointedly meets Adam's gaze, and holds it, as if in challenge.

A crackle like embers from a fire along his skin, raising goosebumps over his arms, and a soft displacement of air. And then —

— he's seen them before, of course, but never dead on like this. Michael's wings are gigantic, and beautiful: the soft grey of storm clouds, fading to a darker slate blue at the tips of the largest feathers. Threads of silver and steel grey etch through them, and they refract the dim light oddly, half-translucent, as though they only partially exist in this plane. Which, now that Adam thinks about it, they probably do.

They're also a mess. From where he sits, Adam can see patches of broken and scorched feathers, clumps of dried blood and sulfur, places where the flesh has started to heal badly. A pang of sympathy, like a lightning bolt through his chest, and he's extending one hand out toward Michael on impulse before he realizes what he's doing.

"You can't reach them, can you? While you're possessing me? That's what you meant."

Michael's eyes track his hand, the aborted gesture hanging in midair. His face and posture have gone closed-off, rigid, like Adam might change his mind at the last moment and strike him instead. "The metaphor is imperfect, but that's essentially accurate. In Heaven, I could tend my own form. Here, my options are... limited."

Adam slides closer, until he sits at his side, facing him. Watching Michael for any sign of distress or hesitation, he extends his hand until the tips of his fingers brush a patch of uninjured feathers over his shoulder. They're softer than they look, and they buzz faintly under his touch, a barely perceptible hum of bioelectric feedback.

Jaw clenched, Michael looks away. Nods once. Presses the wing forward against Adam's hand.

"I'm going to clean the injured parts as much as I can, ok?" Adam says gently, trying to catch Michael's gaze. When that fails, he reaches out to clasp a hand to his shoulder, squeezes once. "Let me know if I should stop."

He grazes his fingertips over one of the burned patches, and Michael hisses, flinching away.

"No," he responds immediately as Adam draws back by reflex. He catches Adam's hand in one of his own, lightning quick, and shakes his head. Deliberately presses the hand back against the scorched feathers. A wince, but his eyes lock on Adam's. "You won't hurt me." His voice falls to nearly a whisper, and his hand drops away. "Please."

This time, when Adam touches him, he is still.

The damage is extensive, and Michael's wings are... well, there's a lot of ground to cover. Adam suspects that he's not getting the whole picture, somehow; that what he sees are only the parts of himself that Michael has chosen (or, perhaps, is able) to bring forward into this plane. That there might, in truth, be more injuries over more of him — and in more dimensions — than Adam's mind is capable of perceiving.

He hums as he works, fingers combing careful through clumps of feathers. Straightening those healthy enough to be salvaged, pulling away bits of dried blood and occasionally tugging free those feathers too bent or broken to be saved. Michael makes a low, pained sound deep in his chest at the first one, and Adam presses his hands back to the space immediately, soothing.

To get his mind off it, Adam speaks. "So, what, you'd do this yourself in Heaven? Or the — I dunno, whatever the metaphysical equivalent of grooming your wings is for angels?"

Michael leans into him, hip pressed to thigh and shoulder against his arm. "Yes. They'd heal more quickly if I was, as you say, able to 'reach' them. But much of my grace is currently constrained within your form. The ways in which I can manifest and manipulate it are comparatively limited."

"But you'd always do that for yourself? Not that a ton of the angels I've met seemed too friendly —" He snorts, thinking of Zachariah. "I wouldn't blame you if you were picky about who you let get that close. But you must have had someone."

For a moment, Michael goes tense against him, and his face clouds. Then it passes, as though it had never been. "No," he says, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Adam doesn't press the issue. He leans back on his heels, then stands, stretches. "You doing ok? I should do the back." Michael nods up at him, from his place on the floor, and Adam circles behind him. Taps him on the shoulder. "Stop kneeling there and sit down." His voice is light, teasing. "I'm going to need all the height advantage I can get on your ridiculous, massive wings."

It startles a chuckle out of Michael, and Adam grins to himself. Michael settles near his feet, and Adam resumes carding through the wings. He starts at the tips and works inward, down along the leading edge, gradually moving back toward Michael's body.

When he's close enough, Michael relaxes back against his legs. Almost like he doesn't realize he's doing it, Adam thinks. He doesn't mention it, and when he moves away to start on the outer edge of the other wing, the quality of the silence between them is different than before. The pain seems to be fading, and Michael no longer shivers, but some less definite emotion is rooting in its place, something quieter and almost sorrowful.

When Adam kneels behind him to reach the places closest to Michael's body, he can feel the difference. It's in the way the wings press eagerly into his hands, rather than shying away. In the way the angel tilts back into him, posture more relaxed than Adam has seen him — maybe ever.

Adam encourages him, pressing his weight in turn against Michael's back. As levelly and casually as he can, he says, "What about the others? I was under the impression that you guys were, well, close. A family. For whatever that means for you."

"Heaven is not —" Michael tenses, but Adam just leans more firmly against him, fingers moving soothingly over his wings, and after a moment he relents. His words sound fragile, hollow, and his voice is almost too quiet to hear. As though speaking this too loudly would be too much, would mean acknowledging something he was unwilling or unable to acknowledge. "We aren't like humans; we don't interact like you do. We don't — we don't touch each other. Except to fight." He glances furtively across the Cage. In that moment, Adam sees a glimpse of his deeper nature, the weight of an impossible stretch of time on this being as old as the universe. "Once, perhaps. But not for a very long time."

Adam says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

He sits against the wall of the Cage, spreads his legs out, and tugs at Michael's waist. Michael's wings vanish, and he turns his head to speak, but Adam cuts him off.

"Don't argue with me, ok? Just come over here."

Michael lets himself be pulled along, until he rests between Adam's legs. He leans back against his chest, and fidgets for a few moments. Then Adam curls his arms around his waist, and he settles.

"You deserve to be touched in something other than violence," he murmurs, chin hooked over Michael's shoulder. He runs hands down his arms, until their fingers twine together, pressing close to Michael's body. "Don't give me that 'not like humans' line. Just stay here with me for a few minutes."

He has no power to hold Michael here against his will, he knows. He could vanish, fly off, simply stand up and walk away — he is far stronger than Adam will ever be.

But Adam holds him, the only comfort he has to offer.

And Michael, a silent weight against his chest, doesn't move away.