#they should be relatively easy to find though they're all on ao3!!!

[greentrickster]

I found your TSP AA crossover au on Ao3 and can I just say, wow!!

now, I'm not that far into the whole AA game series but! How is Apollo feeling about The Narrator and Stanley?

Thank-you so much! ^U^ As for Apollo, he finds them... strange. Stanley? He's okay enough - relatively normal guy, maybe a little... too normal in some way Apollo can't quite put his finger on, but a decent bloke. A chap, if you will. Starts feeling more comfortably normal once Athena gets that bucket for him, a little layer of constant tension Stanley'd been carrying up until that point goes away, which Apollo hadn't realized he'd been picking up on until it leaves due to it just being always there.

Well, he does seem a little... odd in his reactions to certain things. Sometimes he seems to just... forget stuff. Like that you have to open a door before you go through it, or that his friend Narrator has a different walking speed than him even though they've obviously known each other for years (long enough that matching walking speeds should be a subconscious action for both of them). And then, when he does remember, he gets... excited? Apollo watched him go in and out of the Agency seventeen times in a row once, apparently just so he could open and close the door. Who does that? What's so fun about opening and closing a door? (Not much, unless you haven't gotten to do it yourself for many many the end is nevers.) Not to mention that Stanley forgets to make sure the Narrator's looking at him half the time when he signs - both of them forget that for some reason. The Narrator makes a certain amount of sense for this to be a thing with, but like... why would the guy using ASL forget that people need to be looking at him in order to understand what he's signing? ...and why do they know ASL when they're both British? (Answer: because the Narrator wanted that sweet, sweet American market approval, so he skewed certain things American to curry favour, like the attention-craver he is.)

And all that's weird, yes, but also could probably be explained away if asked. Like, Stanley's selectively mute, maybe heavy reliance on sign language is a newer situation for him, and he and the Narrator learned ASL because they were living in America at the time so it made sense to learn that version. And maybe the door thing is a stim? Apollo doesn't know, and he's not about to go poking into someone's physical and mental health history for no reason when they barely know each other. Stanley’s kind of weird, but no more so than any of the weirdos they meet in this job.

Now, the Narrator on the other hand? He rubs Apollo the wrong way, and he’s not even entirely sure why. It’s hard to get a read on him, Apollo’s getting way better at using his natural abilities to read people and detect lies, but it... doesn’t quite work with the Narrator? Or, at least, not properly/consistently - he gives off a lot of false positives and negatives. Apollo avoids talking to him unless he needs to as a result.

What Apollo doesn’t know/can’t properly understand is that the reason this is happening with the Narrator is partially because some of the outlandish, unbelievable things he says are genuinely true (like about creating the Parable and Stanley, and not being used to having a physical form), and part of it’s because the Narrator isn’t used to having a physical form. He (luckily) has all the inherent motor skills and spacial awarenesses he needs to function in it properly, but he still isn’t used to the blasted thing. Touch is such a strange sensation to him, and his tells are still developing because he hasn’t had a body long enough for them to develop into automatic muscle memory or anything of the like. Athena, in contrast, has a very easy time reading the Narrator, because his emotions come through loud and clear, but his body language is still developing, and that gives Apollo (and Trucy) pause from time to time, due to the dissonance of it.

Thanks for the ask!

[princelink]

6 for the ask game

yeah I read fics all the time!!!!! although I've really been in bleach / grimmichi hell lately so it's mainly focused on that LOL there's a few Zelda fics but I haven't been digging for them as much lately... Rip. There's a few obey me fics too. Don't look at me. I am a simple man.

Anyway

Literally ANYTHING by murderlight or sayhitoforever !!!! I really love how they write so much. Anything by possumhours, junichiblue, and shapooda 💖💖💖 aaaa sykamore too

There's a good amount of people I subscribe to but if I was to list them all... Oof. Like really I could go on and on lmao

There's a lot of good fics in general... I have a hefty amount of bookmarks on ao3 LMAO although I suppose it could be worse I've seen people with like over 300 and I dread the day I get there because I enjoy hoarding things like a dragon.

I know off the top of my head ...

You can pick my lock by backwardshirt is one of my favorites.

I'm biased towards smorecakes' Thursday fic for REASONS

Aaaaa roll 6 by stripy !!!!! what I'd give for an update. Man

Uh strawberry kitten by neuron. Although all their stuff is good

Fucking !!!! The hollow hole verse from quarter_life_crisis omg 💞😌

and the stars reigned down like embers from copperscript

I should probably shut up before this gets too long LMAO sorry

[hellowkatey]

I refuse to believe the droid that blew up under tech's ass didn't cause more damage

3.9k words ~ depictions of violence ~ ao3 ~ a little whump for your troubles

"They're using live rounds!" Hunter hisses, and Tech's blood runs cold. Live rounds? The Kaminoans have never resorted to training with live rounds within the simulation chamber. Even at a low power, live rounds have 62% chance of causing extensive damage to the room's durasteel construction, as opposed to the 21% chance with stuns. That does not even account for the monetary loss if a soldier were to lose their life or require medical attention. All in all, it's a horribly irresponsible training tactic. Something has changed. But why? Tech does not have an answer for that.

He looks at Hunter and Echo crouched behind the barrier next to him. "Get Wrecker," Hunter commands, the flurry of bright red blaster shots zooming overhead. "We'll cover you."

Tech offers a single nod in confirmation and eyes the distance to his fallen brother. With cover from both Hunter and Echo, and if he approaches from the opposite side of his barrier, he should have a relatively high chance of success. Assuming he can keep his head down, of course.

Tech makes his way to the barrier closer to Wrecker without issue.

"Wrecker, are you alright?" He asks, his anxiety quelling at the sight of his brother crawling toward him. The shot did not seem to fully penetrate his armor, which is good news. Tech runs out to meet him, grabbing Wrecker by the shoulder to help him get out of the line of fire.

Just in time it seems. One of the trigger-happy droids notices their movement and leaves a trail of carbon scoring in their wake.

Tech and Wrecker collapse against a barrier just as Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair fall back from their previous positions. He can see them approximately eight meters away. Too far to hear any orders without Hunter alerting the droids to their potential plan.

Suddenly their barrier is getting pounded by blasters. The training droids have discovered their hiding place and are firing without mercy. Smoke from the live rounds curl from the other side of the barrier, fogging up Tech's goggles and filling the air with the horrendous scent of burnt plastoid.

Or perhaps that is the smell of Wrecker's melted chest plate. Difficult to tell. Tech is quickly inching toward overstimulation from the deafening shots, heavy footsteps, and smell of smoke assaulting his senses..

He peers around the corner of their hiding space to get an idea of how close the droids are when a shot slams against the corner— far too close to comfort. He recoils just in time, but the heat of the shot still warms the skin between his helmet and blacks. There seems to be no clear break as the line of their attackers moves forward. He and Wrecker are stuck unless the others can help.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of battle. Tech and Wrecker look at their sergeant who waits for their attention before going through a serious of hand signals.

Split up. Cover. Draw fire. Distract and manual take down. Reprogram. Tech nods along, recognizing this particular sequence.

"Oh!" Wrecker exclaims, collapsing dramatically from his crouched position. "I hate hand signals."

"Perhaps if you memorized them," Tech offers, though he knows there is no chance in hell that will ever happen.

"Why don't you memorize them?"

"I have." Tech is more surprised that Wrecker assumed he hadn't. "What we did on Felucia."

Wrecker is on his feet in an instant. "Why didn't you just say that?" He throws a thumbs up to Hunter and the others— the only hand signal they can ever trust Wrecker to remember— and crouches his way to the outskirts of the chamber.

Tech watches as Hunter and Crosshair lay down cover fire, splitting up to spread the attention of the droids. And Echo assumes his ARC trooper role of running head-on into the action. As the droids shoot at his quick run, Wrecker runs up from behind, tackling one of the training droids to the ground with a satisfied laugh.

Also in typical ARC trooper fashion, Echo jumps onto the back of the other droid as though it's an angry rancor he's attempting to ride. And the droid bucks as any rancor would-- until Echo slams his scomp link into its neck, deactivating it all together.

Now it's reprogramming time. Tech runs to meet them, catching Wrecker's eager arm as it moves to punch the fallen droid again.

"Reprogramming this thing will be pointless if you crush it."

Wrecker seems disappointed, but he resists the urge to wreck. "You better be right about this."

Tech ignores the doubt and gets to work in the droid's circuit board. He works as quickly as possible, acutely aware that Hunter and Crosshair are undoubtedly being swarmed by this point.

"Hurry up," Wrecker warns. It is a statement more of worry for their brothers than a critique of Tech's programming speed. With a quick glance at his vambrace monitor, he slams the circuit board shut.

"Done. Let him go."

Wrecker and Echo back off just as the other droids launch a new attack at the site of their droid field surgery. They run for cover. Tech, on the other hand, situates himself on the shoulders of his new pet droid.

If Echo is the rancor rider, then he is the rancor tamer in this analogy.

The droid stands at its full height, nearly throwing Tech off on the way up, but he manages to press his thighs against its head to balance his weight. Shots from the other droids are whizzing past him in growing frequency. He is an easy target at this height and visibility. He needs to work quickly.

Taking control of the droid's weapons, he fires the live rounds back at the combatant droids. While their training blasters were useless against the thick durasteel plated training droids— as they were meant to be in a simulation— the live rounds actually do sufficient damage. He breezes past Echo and Wrecker's battle stations. Instructs his droid to punch the other droids that managed to get past his initial rain of fire. And as he weakens their defenses his brothers move in with vibroblades, perfectly placed stun shots, and raw strength.

A little bit of pride swells in his chest. The tides appear to be turning in their favor. If they can keep up this pace, their outcome will be favorable.

With his vantage point, Tech spots a droid sneaking up on Wrecker, who is otherwise occupied by beating another droid into submission.

"Wrecker, look alive," he warns. Wrecker lets out a sound of confusion before whirring around to find his next victim. It only takes an impressive suplex and Echo jabbing the droid in the neck for the danger to be adverted. But a new danger has begun to emerge.

Warning signs start flashing across Tech's vambrace screen. His rewriting job had to be hasty, which means he did not get the chance to secure every single circuit. His rush may prove to be their downfall as the connection flickers in and out. The droid sways beneath him and he fights to remain on its shoulders.

"I can't sustain the connection," he says through grit teeth. But with two more enemies stalking toward him he has no choice but to hope he can hold on through the end. His droid manages a weak strike against one of the attacking bots, and a few point blank shots in the face of the other. The connection suddenly re-establishes with full strength, and he grins with glee.

But his success is only temporary. His ride jolts backward as a droid from the upper tier manages to shoot right though its chest— right into the main circuitboard, Tech realizes with dismay. He can't do anything but watch as the droid gets hit a few more times and explodes beneath him. The surge of the blast sends Tech flying backward with much more force than would have been a problem had he simply fallen off the droid. His body hits the ground back-first, ripping the air from his lungs. And then he bounces. When he hits it again, the back of his head slams into the durasteel floor and his vision swims with black dots. Tech tries to blink through the cloudiness of his vision, barely aware of somebody yelling his name through the ringing in his ears.

Everything suddenly hurts. The back of his legs are hot and the smell of burnt plastoid is even more putrid than earlier. Considering how long the droid had been engaging in active battle, and the numerous shots straight to the power source... the heat of combustion had to have been fairly significant. Perhaps even sufficient enough to melt his armor, he realizes with a deep groan.

"Tech!" his name reaches him this time. A little clearer. Definitely Wrecker. He tries to lift his head but only succeeds in lobbing it to the side. But it's enough to see Wrecker crouched a few meters away. "Hold tight, buddy."

Tech can see the consistent shower of blaster shots still thick in the air. It is a full-on battlefield tucked within the confines of Kamino's training facility.

"I'm..." he starts to say, attempting to assure Wrecker that he's okay, but even the act of raising his arm and head is enough to send a jolt of pain down his back and limbs. His vision blurs again and he suddenly is whipped by exhaustion. His adrenaline has finally dropped off and it is pulling him down with it. Tech collapses back on to the ground, letting out a shaky sigh. "...not going anywhere."

He wants to help. But he runs the numbers in his head even as the aura of a migraine starts to dance before his eyes. With the number of droids and taking into account their individual firepower abilities paired with handicaps that come from limited programming and movement, Tech calculates that they have a 46% chance of success without his help.

They've won on lesser odds.

And when he takes into consideration the alternate scenario of him pushing through his current injuries and attempting to aid them in completing the simulation, their chance of success actually reduces to 41%. He knows his presence would distract the rest of his squad, or introduce a number of uncertain variables he is too tired to take into account at the moment.

Well, the math does not lie, he thinks, and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Wrecker watches Tech's body go limp and he seriously considers running at that last droid and tearing its head clean off with his bare hands. His youngest brother mutters something he can't really hear— whatever it is, his voice is pinched with pain. Not a good sign.

This needs to end now.

As though Crosshair was reading his mind, the sniper appears out of nowhere with his rifle at the ready. (Sometimes Wrecker wonders if he really can read minds. It wouldn't surprise him.)

"Wrecker, knife!" he yells. He has no idea what Cross is gonna do, but he unsheathes his knife and throws it in the air with a backspin. Crosshair shoots and strikes his knife mid-air, sending it blade first straight between the eyes of the last droid.

"Wow," he says in amazement.

There's a moment of quiet after the droid falls. Wrecker stands at his full height, still in awe that Cross managed to actually get that shot! He knows his brother's aim is impressive but wow— sometimes it's just next level.

Wrecker suddenly remembers Tech still lying next to the burnt leftovers of his pet droid. He and Echo rush to his side. Though Tech has pushed himself to a sitting position, Wrecker has enough experience with explosives and getting too close to them to notice how his brother refuses to let the back of his legs touch anything. On top of if, he saw the way his head bounced against the floor. Wrecker's no medic, but he knows a solid hit to the noggin when he sees one. Tech's usually sharp eyes are unfocused. The smears of carbon scoring across the lenses aren't helping, so he tries to wipe it away with his gloves. He only succeeds in making the smearing worse, but what worries him more is that his younger brother didn't react like he usually does when anyone tries to touch his goggles. Usually he jerks away, insists he can fix them himself. But now he's just... staring at nothing. It sends a spike of worry through Wrecker's large body.

As they attempt to pull him to his feet, he glances down at the state of Tech's armor. A shutter runs up his spine.

It's not good. He can't tell if the red that is dripping down Tech's boots and onto the floor is from his melted armor or blood... neither is a good sigh. And as soon as he and Echo get Tech to his feet, he immediately starts swaying to the side. Wrecker catches him under the arms, hearing a low hiss of pain and wondering if he should let him lie back again.

"Tech, are you okay?" Hunter asks as he and Crosshair make it to their position.

Tech's reply is very not-Tech like. A low groan. Not a single word. But he shifts his weight to his feet and gently pulls out of Wrecker's grasp to stand on his own.

"Techy you don't have to--"

"We're being watched," Crosshair interrupts. Wrecker looks up and realizes that Tarkin guy and Lama Su are still watching from the viewing gallery.

A part of him is glad they can't see the death stare on his face for shooting live rounds— live rounds!— at them.

Another part of him wants to give them a piece of his mind.

But as they disappear from sight, it becomes very obvious that Tech was only standing for their benefit. This time, his knees buckle and he falls forward. Hunter and Crosshair both lunge to catch him.

"He's out," Hunter says as they gently lower him to the ground. Now the overhead lights shine down on Tech's back and all of them freeze.

"Shit," Crosshair curses. The explosion melted his armor for sure. But what concerns them all is the mess of raw skin and melted blacks behind his knees and at his ankles. "Where the hell is medical?"

For some reason, when Tech awoke he expected to be staring at the ceiling of a med tent. It is a natural association to make in his newly conscious state. He suffered an injury due to an explosion, which is usually a scenario that is only possible in an active battlefield situation.

Hence, why seeing the sterile white ceiling of the Kamino ceiling sent him into a momentary panic. Did they cart me straight back to Kamino from the battlefield? Am I that injured? Does this mean I am being decommissioned?

He begins to try and sit up, but strong hands press down on his chest. It takes a few rounds of blinking to clear the tears that have welled up in his eyes. Echo and Crosshair stand on either side of his bed. Still in their armor. Both wide-eyed and looking quite exhausted as they attempt to calm him.

"Breathe, Tech," Echo says, demonstrating by drawing in his own large breath and slowly releasing it through his pursed lips. Tech imitates him until the tightness in his chest subsides. And he remembers.

A simulation. We were doing a training exercise. I was sitting atop the shoulders of a droid and... the droid combusted.

Right. Suddenly the numbness in his legs and the dull bite of a waning migraine make sense.

"Did we win at least?" Tech asks, looking between Crosshair and Echo.

"You don't remember?" The sniper asks carefully.

Tech remembers falling. A white hot pain. And then a lot of yelling and a lot of darkness.

"My current memory of the end of the exercise seems to be a bit... murky."

Echo and Crosshair exchange glances.

"We destroyed all the droids," Echo says finally.

"Wrecker was pleased about that part," the sniper mutters.

"So we won then. That's good." Both of them are silent for a long moment. Long enough that Tech replays their conversation up to that point wondering if he said something incorrect. From his point of view, there has been nothing that would offend either of them. So why they are acting so strange is beyond his understanding, unless they are withholding other context from while he was unconscious. "...isn't it?"

Finally Crosshair clears his throat. "None of us would consider you getting blown up a mission success, Tech."

"Well, technically, I didn't blow up, the droid—"

"Technically, nothing," Crosshair snaps at him. Echo glares at the sniper but doesn't exactly try to correct his outburst. "Either way, you got hurt."

Oh. So they are worried about his condition. For the first time since he's woken up, Tech cranes his head to look down at himself. He's in a thin, medical gown. No wonder he was feeling a bit of a draft. His bare legs are completely wrapped in thick bacta strips. That explains the numbness as well.

"How... bad?"

"Not as bad as it looks," Echo admits. "Mostly second-degree burns on your legs with a few small spots of third degree burns. No concussion and no grafts needed. Doc said after this round of bacta they'll rewrap and we can take you back to the barracks. It'll just feel like you have a bad sunburn for a few days."

That's good news at least. He does feel much better. Not in terrible pain like before, though Tech suspects the IV in his arm might have something to do with that.

"You passed out after the simulation," Crosshair says with a haunted stare.

"From the pain, I assume?"

"Also from the adrenaline dump." Echo shrugs. "We all came out of that with shaky legs."

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair mutters but Echo ignores him.

"None of us expected to fight for our lives today."

All of them can agree on that. Speaking of fighting for their lives, Tech realizes it's just the three of them. He looks to the beds at his left and right and find that they're empty. The memory of watching Wrecker's body crumble after getting shot flashes through Tech's mind and he tries to sit up again. This time Crosshair presses his hand against his back and helps him up.

"Where's Wrecker and Hunter? Are they alright?"

"Wrecker also had a burn on his chest, but they discharged him already. Hunter is with him," Echo smiles. "I think Wrecker said something about being hungry."

"Well, we didn't get much of a meal before this," Crosshair says bitterly.

Tech finally relaxes back into the pillow. His brothers are all safe, he's going to be discharged soon, and they completed their training exercise. It's a much better outcome than he expected from waking up in the med wing.

After his bacta is changed, Echo helps him into a fresh pair of blacks while Crosshair grabs his armor. The shirt is no problem, but the tight-fitting pants prove to be a more difficult feat.

"Maybe we can go get you a looser pair," Echo suggests as Tech has to literally bite down on his own lip to distract himself from the discomfort. Even with the barrier of bandages, the thick material feels scratchy against his sensitive skin. So bad that shivers run up his spine and he begins to feel a little nauseous.

"No," Tech pushes Echo's hand away. Honestly, the very thought of the pants having to peel back down his leg is worse than the idea of keeping them on. "I'll adjust." Echo seems hesitant but he doesn't fight him further. Tech gets his armor on-- sans the pieces that were melted in the explosion, of course. Those will require a trip to the armory to replace. (But he is not exactly jumping at the idea of restraining his swollen legs right now, anyway.)

"Ready?" Crosshair asks, though his facial expression looks as though he won't believe a word that comes out of Tech's mouth no matter what.

"Indeed."

They walk slowly back to the barracks, taking the long route to pick up Hunter and Wrecker from the caf. For the first few corridors, the scratchy feeling is agonizing. He has to walk with stiff legs to avoid bending his knees too much. It earns him his fair share of strange looks from the regs that pass, though they usually look at him like he was some sort of abomination, so it doesn't bother him. (Tech hypothesizes it has something to do with his goggles and how they stick out of his helmet. Makes him look quite different from even his own squad.)

But as they reach the caf, the stinging has begun to fade. His body is adjusting, as he predicted. The pain receptors in his legs are finally recognizing that it isn't a stimulus worth the trouble to continue griping about. He manages to bend his knees just enough that his stiffness isn't so obvious, more of a limp.

Wrecker's joyful tone rings out as soon as they grow near to the cafeteria. The largest of their brothers appears around the corner, his face brightening as he breaks into a run. "Tech!" Echo and Crosshair are quick to jump in and stop him from body slamming Tech.

"Easy, Wrecker, you know better than any of us how it feels to get blown up," Crosshair says before stepping aside for Wrecker to pull Tech into a bear hug. He sees Cross glance at Echo and then smirk. "Well, maybe that's not true. Echo here might have us all beat."

The former ARC trooper rolls his eyes. "Very funny."

Wrecker releases Tech. Somehow without aggravating his burns too badly. He is glad he opted to wear his helmet instead of carrying it. The mask hides his wince as pain shoots up his legs when Wrecker drops him back on the floor.  "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"As am I," he replies sheepishly. They start to make their way back toward their barracks. "Though I hardly blew up, it was merely a droid overheating."

"Did it have smoke and fire?" Wrecker asks.

"Minimal, but yes."

"Did it make a boom sound?"

"Well I'm not sure I would classify--"

"And did you get thrown really hard and burn your butt off?"

Tech sighs. "Perhaps."

Wrecker shrugs with a smug grin, looking around at the others. "You may be the expert on most things, Tech, but I know explosions. And that sounds a lot like an explosion to me."

Crosshair chuckles, his face in its usual sneer as he pats Tech's shoulder pauldron.

"It's alright," Echo whispers to him as Wrecker starts a loud tangent about getting shot at. "Means you get to be a part of the Got Blown Up Club. Meetings are bimonthly."

Not exactly a club Tech expected to be joining at a battle simulation. But then again, when do things ever go right for their squad in normal circumstances? He is curious to see what justification they had for such an irresponsible stunt. Tech has a sinking feeling Tarkin and Echo's claim that he hates clones has something to do with it.

[bytheangell]

Hey! Can I request something where Raphael is human again, attends the Shadowhunter Academy and then heads to the NY Institute and Izzy just adores seeing him around all the time and they grow even closer. And maybe Raphael asks Maryse for her blessing because that was just how he was raised. Love your works, they're always amazing!

The Life We Choose (Read on AO3)

It only takes a year after turning human for Raphael to admit how much he misses the Shadow World. He knows that the option to become a vampire again is there - both Simon and Lily offered to turn him previously, but he turned them both down with the promise that they’d be the first he comes to if he changes his mind. Even though he misses the Shadow World, he doesn’t want to be immortal again. That isn’t a fate he’ll be spared twice if he goes back to it, and he doesn’t want that for himself.

He has another idea, one that he thinks about long and hard before deciding he’s serious about it, which is when he finds himself in Isabelle’s office at the New York Institute.

“I’d like to apply for ascension,” Raphael says.

“What?” Isabelle asks, blinking rapidly in surprise.

“I’d like to apply for ascension,” Raphael repeats, clear and calm. He’s thought this through and is entirely confident in the request, even if Izzy doesn’t seem to share that certainty.

“You want to be a Shadowhunter?” Izzy questions.

“Yes,” Raphael says. “I’ve thought about this a lot, Isabelle. I want to be part of the Shadow World again, and this is the only way while keeping my mortality intact. I want this.”

Izzy bites down on her lower lip in thought. “It isn’t just like I can sign off on it. You need to study, and get approved, and drink from the-”

“The Mortal Cup, yes. And then take my first runes. I know the risks, I know it’s more dangerous the older you are, and I know I’m well beyond the usual age for this sort of thing. I also know,” he adds confidently. “That adults ascending isn’t unheard of, and that the Clave can, and has, approved them.”

“They’ll look at your history with Camille,” Isabelle points out. “But I’ll vouch for you. And I’m sure Alec and Magnus will, too. We should have enough pull to get it approved… are you sure this is what you want, though?”

Raphael nods. “Positive. And if you’d rather not get involved, I can take it to another Head in another city and work from there,” he adds. This is the first sign of hesitation he’s shown because he doesn’t want to go through strangers in other cities. He’d much rather do this with Isabelle by his side, though he understands if she doesn’t feel the same.

Izzy shakes her head. “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t trust this with anyone else. I’ll help however I can.”

---

Izzy is true to her word. She shows up to the Academy about once a week, claiming she’s only there to offer her assistance since they’re short on staff, but always managing to spend most of her time with Raphael. She checks in on what they’re studying, helps him with whatever he doesn’t already know about Shadowhunter-specific laws, and practices runes with him every chance she gets. When she’s too busy with her own responsibilities Jace manages to suddenly appear in her place, though Raphael can tell it’s mostly because his sister asks him to and less because he actually wants to be doing it.

Raphael’s always been a quick study and knows that as far as the book work is concerned he’s good to go. It helps that he’s older than everyone there, and more familiar with the Shadow World than many of those from Shadowhunter families, though they do have the upper hand on more Shadowhunter-specific knowledge. Fighting while re-adjusting his instincts to more refined tactics than he was used to as a vampire is, honestly, his biggest struggle.

It helps (as far as he’s concerned) that his abrasive personality and history as a vampire leaves him with plenty of time to study and train, as he isn’t exactly winning many of the young Shadowhunters over as friends.

Izzy seems concerned to find him alone all of the time, but Raphael only shrugs.

“I’m not here to make friends,” he points out. “I’m here to learn.”

“And when you all have to work together?” Izzy prompts.

“They don’t have to like me, they just have to trust me,” Raphael points out.

Izzy smiles at that answer. “You’re going to fit right in with the Nephilim,” she says.

He hopes she’s right.

---

The next time he sees Isabelle is the day before his Ascension ceremony. He almost doesn’t agree to meet with her, not sure he can deal with a teary ‘in case you don’t make it’ speech, and only relenting when she swears that isn’t why she’s there.

“I’m glad you came here,” Izzy says “You’re going to be a great Shadowhunter, I can already tell. You’ll be an asset to whatever Institute you end up at. And… and I wanted to make you an offer. You don’t have to take it, and I’ll totally understand if you’d rather take your new life in another direction, but…”

“What is it?” Raphael prompts.

“Look, I really like spending time with you, Raphael. Not just teaching you, but having you around again has been really, really nice. And once you’re ascended-” he notes with a small smile that, true to her word, she isn’t turning this into an ‘if you survive’ moment. “-if you wanted to be stationed in New York, we’d love to have you.”

He isn’t expecting that. “We?” he questions, following a hunch.

“Yeah. Jace and the others... and me,” she says, then folds under his steady gaze. “Alright, mostly me. I’d love to have you there, but only if you want to.”

Raphael smiles. “I do,” he agrees, and it’s nice to know that Izzy wasn’t just helping him because she felt any sense of obligation, but because she genuinely enjoys spending time with him. He’s thrilled that extends to his time as an actual Shadowhunter.

...now he just has to get through the Ascension.

---

He does. At his insistence, Izzy and the others don’t come to the ceremony, because he doesn’t want them there to witness if something does go wrong. Thankfully it does not, and he emerges a full, proper Shadowhunter.

Of course, in true Magnus Bane fashion, there’s a party at the Loft afterward, complete with banners that Magnus made out to say “It’s a Vampire Mundane Shadowhunter!”.

“You’re not funny,” Raphael says, deadpan, only to have Simon walk up immediately after, burst into a fit of laughter, and tell Magnus how hilarious the banners are. Raphael can only glare more pointedly in response.

Wasting no time, his first patrol is the very next day. Isabelle goes out with him herself, and it’s an easy one with no actual reported activity. This gives them a chance to talk a little more about how he’s doing and little things they can do so he adapts into this new role in the Shadow World as easily as possible, starting with a room at the Institute.

“Would you rather I threaten everyone into being nice to you or threaten everyone into avoiding you entirely?” Izzy jokes. At least, he’s relatively certain she’s joking.

“I’m hoping they warm up to me eventually,” Raphael admits. “This isn’t exactly a… what did Simon call it… a single-player game,” Raphael recalls. Shadowhunters have to work together on patrols and missions, they have to be a team. They have to trust each other. He can’t do that if he isolates himself the way he’s used to. “I can take care of myself, but I guess that’s the one thing the Academy managed to drill into me - it’ll rarely be just me out here.”

Izzy’s smile softens. “They will,” she reassures him. “Once they get to know you they’ll love you as much as I do.”

Raphael’s heart skips a beat at her words, and Isabelle suddenly looks very preoccupied with the ground in front of her as she quickens her pace to walk a few steps ahead.

---

It’s better than he ever hoped it would be. Raphael could admit to himself, at the very least, that the idea of becoming a Shadowhunter was more than a little idealistic. He’d accepted it as his only way back into the world he missed, accepted it as a compromise that allowed him back into the Shadow World at all, but the longer he’s here the more suited he finds himself to the lifestyle of the Nephilim.

He’s a good fighter, and he gets better once the others trust him enough to train and spar with him. He’s also a good teammate - he always was, even before he went to the Academy. The number of times he put the good of the Clan before his own wellbeing, the risks he took for them, leave him with the same instincts to use on missions, just for the sake of a different group of people.

Mostly it just feels good to help people. It’s what he always wanted to do, what he tried to do even as a vampire, but now he can make the sort of difference protecting people that he set out to do even as a child, as that teenage boy going after los vampiros to protect his family and friends. His family may be long gone but he has a new family now, new friends, and he can still protect them.

Once he settles and begins to drop his guard, he starts to notice, to really notice, Isabelle. At first, he thought she was just spending time with him to keep an eye on him during his transition, but she seems to genuinely enjoy his company. They find themselves spending their free time together, whether it’s going out and exploring new places to eat or staying in and losing hours to talking, or simply existing in each other’s space.

“Missed you at breakfast this morning,” Izzy says one day after Raphael oversleeps and misses the normally shared mealtime. It’s such a casual statement, but it catches him off-guard. He never imagines himself as a presence that would be missed, but Izzy misses him when he isn’t around.

He can’t help but remember another time, not so long ago when he thought there might be something between them. The timing had been off then, but now…

“What’s that look for?” Izzy asks, breaking his silent, drifting thoughts.

“I don’t have a ‘look’,” he deflects, quickly looking away.

Maybe there’s something there, but he isn’t going to risk ruining the friendship they have, not until he’s certain.

---

The thing about ‘routine’ missions is that there’s nothing routine about their job - anything can happen. It isn’t anyone’s fault when the demon he’s sent to find ends up finding him first, and his small group is descended on by more elapid demons than they expect.

Raphael gets caught not once, but twice, by the venom-laced fangs of the demons, but manages to keep fighting until they’re almost taken care of before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

He awakens in the Infirmary of the Institute, to the red eyes and tense features of a very worried Isabelle Lightwood.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she says, then promptly collapses against his chest in relief, her hand clutched over his own where it rests beside him on the bed.

“I thought… I was so worried…” Isabelle starts, then stops, then starts again, the words mumbled against the sheet draped over him. “Ugh, this is awful, how do Alec and Magnus make these dramatic declarations so flawlessly all the time?”

“I love you too, Isabelle,” Raphael says, and Izzy looks up at him with a smile he never wants to see leave her face again.

---

It takes a little while for word to spread that the two of them are a couple, mostly because of Raphael’s dislike of public displays of affection. Isabelle never pushes him, she never asks for more than he’s willing to give, never expects anything other than his returned feelings for her.

“I know you’re not interested in sex,” she says to him early on. “And I’m not sure what else you are, or aren’t into, but whatever it is, I’m fine with it.”

Raphael raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Izzy nods. “Really. I have you, right here, just as you are. That’s all I need.” It takes him a little while to believe her, but that trust comes the way everything else did with Isabelle - after she proves time and time again to be a woman of her word. She never moves to hold his hand, or wrap him in too-tight hugs, or kiss him on the cheek, or the corner of his mouth, or his lips, until he either does it first or tells her it’s fine.

They figure it out slowly, but they figure it out together. He finds a simple, easy happiness with her that he never expected to find in his life, not even when he had an eternity stretched out before him to seek it.

He knows how lucky he is to have found it here, now, with Isabelle.

Raphael plans to keep this love and joy, to make it as strong and permanent as possible, which is how he arrives on Maryse’s doorstep one night. It isn’t the first time he’s been here - Isabelle’s brought him over for the occasional family dinner or drinks - but it’s the first time he’s been here by himself.

“Come in,” Maryse says, with a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips at the sight of him. He imagines it must be obvious why he’s here, that he could probably skip the theatrics of the small speech he has planned, but if he’s going to do this then he’s going to do it right.

“Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?” Maryse offers, already making her way into the kitchen as Raphael closes the door behind him and toes off his shoes next to it.

“Coffee would be lovely, thank you Mrs. Lightwood,” Raphael calls after her.

“Please, Raphael, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Maryse,” she laughs, returning a minute later with two steaming cups of coffee, handing one over to him as they make their way to the table. They sit in companionable silence while they take their first sips until Raphael works up the nerve to speak.

“I’m head-over-heels in love with your daughter,” he begins.

“I know,” Maryse says. “I can tell every time I see the two of you together - and I can tell that she feels the same, too.”

“I certainly hope so,” Raphael admits with a small smile. “She’s been there for me through so much of my transition into a Shadowhunter, and as much as she’s supported me I want to be there to support her as well, through anything the future may have in store for her. She deserves nothing but happiness in life and I’d like the chance to be the one to bring that happiness to her, as much as I can.”

Raphael is aware that the practice of asking for permission to propose is a bit antiquated, that his speech is too formal, that if Isabelle wanted to marry him he’d do it no matter what her mother said. But that doesn’t change the fact that he wants to do this the right way - he wants to make sure she knows he’s serious about her, that he isn’t taking this lightly just because he already lived one lifetime over.

“I’d like to spend the rest of my life with Isabelle by my side. And it would mean a lot to me to have your blessing first.”

Maryse eyes him critically, and for the first time he feels a moment of fear that she might actually say no - it passes the moment a wide smile spreads across Maryse’s lips. “Of course, Raphael. The two of you are so good together. You’re so good for each other. You have my blessing a million times over.”

Raphael smiles back.

“Of course, we both know that it doesn’t matter what either of us says here tonight. No one makes up Isabelle’s mind besides Isabelle. When are you going to ask her?” Maryse asks. They spend the rest of Raphael’s visit discussing his plans for the following day and end it with a promise from Raphael to call Maryse first after it’s done.

Raphael can only hope it’ll be with good news.

---

The proposal is simple. Raphael asks her in the privacy of her room - a room they share more often than not these days - just after they wake up the next morning.

Raphael turns over and watches Isabelle’s eyes flutter open slowly, her expression still soft and hazy from sleep.

“If I could wake up to this sight for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy man,” Raphael says quietly, the words barely above a whisper.

Isabelle smiles. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promises.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Raphael says, reaching an arm behind him to open the drawer on the table next to his side of the bed, pulling out a small box. He shifts to sit up slightly, holding it out to her. “Marry me?”

Isabelle shifts up to half-sit beside him, propped up on her elbow and looking from the ring up to Raphael’s face in surprise. Raphael isn’t a fool - he knows there’s a chance she’ll say no. That dating and even love are one thing, but marriage, to a former Downworlder with nothing to his family name, is another entirely.

“Yes,” Isabelle says, dispelling any worries he has with a single word. He slides the ruby engagement ring onto her finger before bringing his lips down to meet hers.

Raphael doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at peace with his place in life than he does at this moment. Not as a child looking out for his friends and siblings on the rough streets of the city, or as a vampire looking out for his clan, or as a human reconciling the decades he spent in a world of magic and angels and demons. Every one of those things was accidental, a decision made for him, a world he was thrust into unwillingly, even if he did his best to accept his place in it as part of a higher purpose.

He still believes in a higher power and that he’s exactly where he needs to be - whether it be God’s will, or Raziel’s - and he likely always will. But he believes in something else now, too, in a way he hadn’t before all of this, before his ascension, before Isabelle: he believes in himself. He’s here because of himself, because of his own will and motivation and desire. He’s exactly where he needs to be, and for the first time, that’s also exactly where he wants and chooses to be.

“Not regretting asking me already, are you?” Izzy asks, her tone light to show she isn’t serious-serious, but curious at the way she notices him lost in his thoughts just then.

“Not at all,” Raphael replies, moving to lay down again and pulling Izzy beside him, wrapping an arm around her. “Quite the opposite - I don’t regret a single choice I’ve made since the day I first walked into your office.”

Izzy smiles at that, warm and comforting, a smile that feels like home.

“That makes two of us.”