#the circle only ends when you decide so. do another round with whatever new phrase you just got. go infinite

[thepandalion]

having hot syntax takes in the house today

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 5 : bach & vitamins (wc: 2k)

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a/n: there’s a scene of card playing so if you dont like anything to do with playing cards,,, its by the end. It’s bluff & i didn’t explain it in the fic bc its rlly simple but i’ll insert the mini note to explain a specific thing i wrote in the fic by the end as a bonus note! + def not my best playing but yea, bach prelude no.1 is played in the fic so..

It’s like any other school day coming to an end. The teacher’s voice getting lost in the sea of students’, as they discuss loudly what to do and where to go, ‘Oh and did you see that?’s here and ‘Have you heard this?’s there, hands and words scattered around as the notebooks and pens are tidied up, put away inside the bags until not a single sign of life is left in the classroom.

It’s almost like any other day, with everyone doing the mundane actions they do each day. And just like any day, you pack up on a whim, place each item in your bag carefully, never interrupting the order of your bag but unlike any other day you walk away from the door and stand over the brunette you’ve come to know more.

It doesn’t take a fake throat clearing on your side, for he notices your presence fast. Getting up and holding his bag on one arm, he gives a curious look your way. If you’ve taken the time to approach him out of nowhere, you must have something to say.

You blink a few times as you look at him. “I was wondering if you start practice right after school or if at least half an hour later.” Words don’t come out in a struggle unlike your expectations.

“Half an hour later. Why?”

“Just- Follow me.”

And so the two of you end up where you first met, properly. This time you’re aware of his presence and he is of yours. This time, it is all planned, not a ‘caught-up-in-the-moment thing. And this time, it’s shaky hands instead of cold, leaving bruises in the papers you’re holding, so you place them on the piano’s open lid quickly.

He sits down with you, to your right, much closer than before. If you make an effort to see him sideways, you can, so you try to brush off the idea itself. You have enough distractions at hand.

Keeping a rhythm with your right foot and tapping it eight times, you take one last deep breath and start hitting the keys. Eyes glued on the papers before you, your left hand starts and joins right after. The first hits are too quiet to your liking and a little out of sync, you hope it’s not noticeable. Eyes going back and forth, you take little moments to watch your hands once in a while, when you’re ahead of the notes, already knowing your next moves.

As your first favorite goes and the first volta is repeated, the tone starts going down, much deeper this time but as lively as the previous ones. You start hitting the keys with more force, trying to achieve the echoing sound you can do once in a while, only when luck is on your side.

Bemols start entering the scene and you start getting quiet at the beginning of each volta. As the melody rises again, so do you. Back straightening without noticing.

Similar repeats of different tones, same pattern made with new sounds, almost flooding around you, almost surrounding you. So close, too close yet never carrying the same satisfying taste.

Quiet once, an echo full of force afterwards, back and forth, the same playing routine.

Your hands keeping going down, to your left. As you go down and down, the melody never falters. Getting to A again and moving your right hand in small scales, you go up again. Up, up and alive, full of life.

This rise is flawed, it doesn’t come as smoothly, much to your dismay. Trying to brush off the pressure of failure, you keep playing. The familiar Cs and Es come once again and playing the same exact notes you did at the beginning, you do the nursery rhyme of an ending. Finishing off with an anxiety arpeggiated chord, more like another failed attempted of it and you pull your hands to your sides, head turned to Iwaizumi a bit too quickly.

He doesn’t seem impressed. He seems far from that actually, almost annoyed. Your frown matches his. You are 100% sure you’ll blame whatever conversation to happen between the two of you on Bach later today.

Tapping your foot again, much quicker and impatient this time, you admit defeat, head dropping back once with a sigh, you face him, again. “So?..”

“So what?” Fine, if you want it be that way.

“So, what do you think?”

“It was alright.”

“That’s it? ‘Alright’?” Irritation clear in your voice, it bothers even your ears. He seems either oblivious or unaffected by it.

“Unless the last time was a fluke, I think you could do better than this.” Your eyelids drop, brows furrowed. Why did you agree to do that again? What came over you to do this again?

Ignoring the look you give his way, Iwaizumi keeps speaking. “If you’ve trusted me enough to bring me here and listen, it couldn’t have been for some inconsiderate pampering. If it was honest opinion you were looking for, here it is. If it was just hitting the keys on correct timing, you got that covered, that’s for sure. But the way you played was soulless.”

Hearing your own thoughts come out of a stranger’s lips is never easy. Never pleasant or welcoming either. No matter how close or how far the person is, it always stings. Even when you know he only means well, doesn’t mean to hurt you with criticism. Because he is right, if you wanted to get compliments from someone who won’t even fully listen to your playing, you could’ve gone and called any of your friends. And still, knowing these doesn’t make the comments any warmer or nicer.

“What time is it? I’d hate for you to be late for practice because of me!” Getting up from the bench a bit too fast, ignoring to comment on his previous words, you can see another emotion spread across his features. You just can’t decide if it’s hurt or disappointment. You’d rather not know.

Picking up his bag and offering you yours, he trails after you and parts ways at the school gates.

Not a word is exchanged between the two of you until you say a hushed “Good bye.” accompanied by a wave.

Empty lunch boxes already cast aside, you find yourself focused too much on the cards. As your friends chat between one another, noises making no sense nor reaching your ears, you mindlessly shuffle the deck, the same words from yesterday echoing in your head.

It was alright.

Alright.

Alright.

Not an insult per se yet not what you wanted to hear. Not from a stranger, is he still a stranger? The way he seemed to decode you that well yesterday argues with your statement. You could brush it aside if that was said by someone in-and-out with music, someone who plays or at least studied it. As far as you know Iwaizumi Hajime was neither of those things, he must have figured it out himself, but how? Isn’t it too soon, too quick?

As you recall your tutor’s words again, referring to Bach as ‘vitamins’, you can’t help but smile. You really don’t like Bach.

Clasping your hands together, deck still between them, you raise your head to your friends. “Alright! Who’s ready for another round?” The glint in Matsukawa and Okemia’s eyes tell it all, Etsuko nods once and you start handing the cards, ready for another round.

Losing count on how many rounds, as Okemia pulls another mass-placing-down-cards move of hers, everyone comes to a halt, turning towards the figure coming their way, a little out of breath.

“Mattsun, there you are! The meeting’s about to start, are you coming?”

“Have the trash king and Godzilla arrived?”

“You know him. The ‘v’ of volleyball comes out of someone’s mouth and he’ll transport there.” As a knowing smile is exchanged between the two, you find your friends eyeing one another. So this must be the infamous Hanamaki Takahiro.

With a shrug, Mattsun turns back to you, eyes focused on his hand. “They must have started bickering with one another again, it’s safe to assume that ‘meeting’ is already dead. Three 7s.”

“Probably. Mind if I join you guys?” He sits as he finishes speaking. “Sure.”

“One 7.” You place downyour card and watch for the reactions. Hanamaki seems to realize what’s going on only now. “Are those… playing cards? Aren’t those forbidden at school?”

“Oh no! These? They’re not ours, we just found them in this spot.”

Okemia joins in to back you up. “We’re just making sure none of these cards are damaged or lost so we’re keeping an eye on them until the owner arrives.”

“By playing?” “Yes. Bluff. Wanna join after this round?” He returns your smile. As the round comes to an end, won by Koto this time, you start gathering the cards and the others explain the rules. He’ll probably fall for all the honestmoves the first time.

This round ends shortly, won by you, Hanamaki falling for all your honesty and ignoring your bluffs. Why would anyone think a single card placed down to be a bluff, you have no idea, but as long as people keep falling for it, you’ll keep doing it.

As the game goes on everyone in the circle seems to have won, except for Hanamaki. After a while it becomes apparent the problem lies within him, he is awfully bad at this game. Mattsun does the same tactic Okemia likes to use and each time, Hanamaki calls ‘bluff’, ends up with the cards, all fours, but he can never use them right. At one point you start feeling really bad for the guy and try changing the topic.

“So Mattsun, now that you’ve read that comic as well, what do you think?” “Weren’t we right?” Koto adds.

“Wait, which one? The one you read in between breaks?”

“Yes-“ “What? Were your hands sweaty?! Hanamaki! Were his hands sweaty?”

“Call me Makki, everyone does. And don’t worry, his hands were as clean as baby skin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?..”

“I think the phrase was ‘as soft as baby skin’. Remember that moisturizer I’ve used recently?”

“Yes Okemia but it makes no sense. That one was really soft though. Mattsun if my comic book smells of teenage boys, sweat and testosterone-“ “Do you think I’d actually do that?”

“Did Pietro Maximoff betray his family before?” He only laughs in response as the conversation divides into several, everyone talking between one another, joining in another conversation. Makki fits in this dynamic so well, not having any trouble adjusting. Maybe the volleyball team is like that too.

When the topic, one of the topics, focuses on desserts and a new place to try, he joins in on the plan as well, picking a day with the lot of you. Gathering your things after that, you start walking back to class. You walk with Mattsun and Makki to get your book first.

“Ah wait! It caught my eye but we were all walking so I didn’t want to be nosy but… What’s the deal with pants?”

“It’s a long story actually.”

“I’m sure I can make time, if you want to tell. So I take it, you guys are the first ones to do the whole breaking-dress-code-partially thing, right?”

“I-“ You rest your head to your head with a groan. “It’s not breaking the dress code if we wear the pants that are a partof the said code. But yes we were the first ones to do it. For comfort and safety reasons, if you really want to know.”

“Got it! There are rumors everywhere and I didn’t want to go snooping around. But I think it’s cool what you’re doing. So you guys really don’t mind if I tag along to this handsome more often at lunch?”

“It’s fine, a friend of Mattsun’s is a friend of ours too. Plus it’s fun to watch you struggle with all these cards.”

“You won’t be saying that next time!” “We will see.”

As your exchange with him comes to an end, the bell rings, as if on cue. Rushing to your class, you wave at Iwaizumi once, the same smile infected by Makki still on your face.

a/n 2 about Bluff:  When you have enough cards in hand (full sets of enough numbers, ie: four 7s, 5s, 8s,9s,Js, Qs etc) the Player starts placing down four at once. The people doubt at first do usually someone calls Bluff, if it isn’t Bluff, next time the player does this almost no one says a thing. These are the actual times the player bluffs, one bluff and one honest move... And before you know it, the player gets rid of their incomplete set of cards and the rest they hold are the sets of four so they finish quickly. I for one don’t like using this because it’s not the safest opinion but if you’ve done that once or twice, you start to get known for this too and this effects future rounds/plays.

[randomfandomfamily]

So this is a post about what I think might happen during the sequel to the Sonic Movie.

This started out as a few thoughts , turned into a lot of ideas, and eventually manifested into… whatever this is.

Look, I have exactly zero self-control, and hyperfixation is an absolute monster at this time of all the time. So like… oops, I guess? Enjoy? Maybe? I dunno. Just gonna yeet this out there and scoot.

Warning: This is a really long friggin’ post. How long? Nearly 3,000 words of pure hyperfocused writing long. I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’d believe me if I did.

I know everyone is freakin’ hyped that Sonic is going to have a pal for the sequel. If past incarnations tell us anything, it’s that Sonic and Tails are 100% going to click, no problem. And I don’t doubt that is exactly what’s gonna happen this round too.

But here’s the thing. The premise for pretty much all of Sonic and Tails’ meeting before now has been Tails looking up to Sonic and Sonic deciding he’s gonna look out for Tails. They see each other as total equals, of course, but a lot of it stems from Sonic’s confidence in his abilities. Tails admires him for it, and Sonic knows he can keep Tails safe because of it. It gives Tails more confidence in himself. And that gives Sonic more confidence in Tails. They give each other the confidence and reassurance that they need.

This Sonic? This Sonic is a child. And he’s pretty much always been a child, a teen of fifteen in most cases, but we rarely see any incarnation of Sonic acting like a child. He’s usually just saving the world, and when he’s not doing that, he’s saving the world again. But the Sonic in the movie genuinely loves being a kid. And confidence in his abilities? Not so much. He used them once on purpose, and only after he had nearly died.

He’s not the usual thrill-seeking, needs to constantly be on the move, adrenaline junkie that we’re used to. He lives in house. In a small town. With friendly people and no one to fight (anymore). And he likes it that way.

Because of this, the set-up for Tails and Sonic’s relationship is going to have to be different. It’s most likely going to rely a lot on Sonic just being excited to see someone from his home planet. He might not question how Tails knows him. He might not question how Tails found him. He might not question anything at all.

The first movie taught Sonic that he absolutely does not have to be alone in life. It is, in fact, the worst way to live your life. He learns that it’s okay to rely on people, and he didn’t have to do this alone. The first movie taught him trust.

Sonic relied on blind trust in the first movie and it worked out. He trusted Tom. And in true Donut Lord fashion, Tom not only helped, but he and Maddie had pretty much adopted Sonic by the end of the movie.

Tails comes along. A resident of Sonic’s old home. Tails is nice, crazy smart, seems super interested in his powers, and also doesn’t want to kill his parents. Great! Immediate trust for Tails, too.

Now like I mentioned it before in another post, but I’m willing to bet that Tails found out about Sonic through the Echidnas. Though I’m also willing to bet that it was one specific Echidna that told him.

Gonna intervene on the Sonic/Tails analysis to bring you some unscheduled Knuckles. In all of Knuckles’ lore, he is the last known Echidna. Now they might throw that specific part of his history out for this incarnation, but it’d be interesting if they kept it.

Super Sonic was nearly a part of the movie, but they decided the main focus of the movie should be Sonic the character, not Sonic the classic hero archetype. That doesn’t mean Super Sonic will never be introduced, it could still happen. The thing is, that requires Chaos Emeralds. And who was known for his connection to those? Exactly.

Y’all wanna see somethin’ neat?

We gotta map with eight planets on it and something that looks nearly identical to a Chaos Emerald in the corner. Rings are used by advanced civilizations, and Earth ain’t one of them. Ta-da. Seven planets. Seven Chaos Emeralds. And that that circle in the middle looks like a great place for a Master Emerald, doesn’t it?

‘Wait a minute’, I hear you protest, ‘the mushroom planet is uninhabited! Why would a Chaos Emerald be there?’

Sure it’s uninhabited. You know, unless it isn’t. What proof do we have that it is? Because Sonic said it was? Because he opened up a portal, looked through it, and saw nothing?

Look, Robotnik is a brilliant scientist, I’ll give him that, but no way in New Heckistan is he going to find a way to find a way home with mushrooms alone.

But say he stumbles across a poor soul who’s trying to protect one of the seven most powerful gems in existence. Say he steals that gem and uses it to find a way back (as a mad scientist do). Maybe he even stole the set of rings that the poor unfortunate soul had. After all, there were six more gems to find. Why settle for 1/7 of the power when you could have it all?

How long has Sonic been with Tom and Maddie now? Long enough for him to be enrolled in school? Long enough for them to fix the house and start repainting? Long enough, perhaps, for a mad scientist to start fixing the remnants of his busted ship and power it with an alien source? I mean, probably. He is pretty smart.

Actually, hang on. Maybe the planet is uninhabited as far as living creatures go, but isn’t Eggman (Robotnik’s nickname from Sonic) known for having two robot assitants? That’d be an interesting way to introduce them. And they’d know the other planets, and could open the portals.

So perhaps Robotnik finds a planet with another Chaos Emerald ripe for the picking. It’s protected by, oh let’s say… a tribe of Echidnas? All sworn to protect one thing. The thing he wants. They put up a fight, of course they do, but they don’t know who they’re up against.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s one left behind. Knuckles. Who had heard tales of a being that could harness the power of the Chaos Emeralds. His tribe had tried hunting him down years ago in fear that he might steal the power for evil. They had failed. Thankfully. Because it looked that being they tried to hunt down was going to be their only chance of stopping the psycho with the mustache.

So Knuckles confides in a local inventor that he knows. A clever little Fox named Miles Prower. He tells Miles that there is someone that could help them, but it was going to be difficult to find them.

If I’m right, and Tails did find out about Sonic through Knuckles, that explains his timing. If he was just tracking Sonic’s power, he could have found Sonic after the incident at the baseball field. But he needed a reason to find Sonic, and a scientist destroying a tribe of people for a gem seems like a good reason. Might also explain why he’s hoping he’s not too late. Who knows how long it would take Robotnik to find the other Chaos Emeralds? They had to get to them first.

Sonic meets Miles, nicknames him Tails, and they hit it off immediately. Sonic is more than willing to help Tails track down the rest of these things. No way in hell Tom and Maddie are letting him go alone, so they’re coming too.

Tails doesn’t think to mention that it was an Echidna that told him about Sonic. Tom and Maddie are kind of suspicious about it at first (I thought no one else knew about him? Who is this guy and how does he know?) but Tails seems like a good kid and Sonic trusts him.

They find the first Chaos Emerald (there are probably many shenanigans that ensue, but I don’t know what the other planets are like so I can’t predict them). No one really knows what they should do with it. Keep it with them? But what if they’re confronted by Robotnik and he takes it somehow?

So Tails tell them that a friend of his back on the island that could watch over it. Robotnik wouldn’t think to go back there because he already attacked it once. That seems like a solid plan, so they go back. Sonic is thrilled to be back. Everything looks the same as it did. Except for… that part. That part looks like a warzone.

Now, why is Knuckles not part of this mission too? Not sure. Maybe he’s injured after the fight. It’s very probable that he would be. So he’s injured, grieving, worried sick about the eight year old he just sent looking for the one person that can stop Robotnik.

He’s relieved when he sees Tails with a hedgehog, who he correctly assumes is the being who can control the Emeralds’ power. He’s even relieved to see the two humans. At least someone is looking out for the kid since he’s not able to.

You know who’s not thrilled? I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

The phrase ‘eyes glowing with rage’ is all too literal when it comes to Sonic. And he looks ready to explode on the spot. He immediately accuses Tails of betraying him, leading him to the people that killed the only person on the island that cared about him. He even throws in a spiteful ‘Miles’ because the name ‘Tails’ was only for friends.

Tails and Knuckles don’t have time to explain before Sonic takes off like a bullet. He’s out of sight in milliseconds, but you could hear the electric energy from a mile away.

Tom and Maddie decide to hear them out, because they obviously did need their help with Robotnik on the loose. Tails explains that Knuckles is the last of his kind and really isn’t much older than Sonic. He had nothing to do with what happened to Longclaw.

So Tom offers to go talk to Sonic (huzzah for fatherly life lessons), and Maddie offers to help fix up Knuckles as best as she can. Being a vet paid off in the weirdest ways sometimes.

While Tom explains what actually happened and that no one betrayed anyone, Knuckles and Tails have reluctantly opened up to Maddie.

Knuckles has been trying to keep up that rough and tumble attitude we know and love, but it’s kinda breaking down with this nice human  wrapping his arm with the bandages she brought (because of course she brought bandages, she’s a vet and a mother) and asking if he was okay. He was not okay.

And Tails… well, where was Tails’ family? Did they know where he was? Any friends he could think of that might be able to help them? That ends in a solemn silence. Tails is family-less too, and his inventions aren’t always well received on an island that is almost completely organic. There was a very kind Rabbit mother and daughter that checked on him from time to time, but other than that? He was on his own.

Maddie makes a mental note to tell Tom that they’re adopting two more alien children and no it’s not up for discussion, they’re doing it (not that Tom would have argued with her anyway).

Tom returns with Sonic, who apologizes for accusing them of betrayal and murder. That’s when he and Knuckles finally realize they’re about the same age. (I’m gonna guesstimate Knuckles’ age at around 15/16). It’s baffling to the both of them.

When Knuckles heard about the powerful being his people had hunted, he had expected… not a teenager. And worse, it happened a decade ago.His people had hunted down a toddler and, apparently, killed his parent. He was a little more understanding of Sonic’s anger.

As for Sonic, Echidnas were pretty much cold-blooded murderers to him. He had never stopped to consider that there were also, you know, kids. And this kid had just lost… everything. He instantly feels terrible about his outburst. This guy didn’t even know who Longclaw was, much less what had happened to her.

But, emotional breakthroughs aside, they still have a huge problem and his name is Eggman. Or Robotnik. It really depended on who you asked. Either way, they needed to figure out which planet Robotnik was going to be at next. They decide to just collect the Chaos Emeralds they could and worry about Robotnik later.

Sonic gives Knuckles his set of rings, just in case. They have Tails’ so they should be fine. Off to the next planet to find an Emerald. It becomes clear that they’re gonna need a more efficient way of doing this, so Tails modifies the tracker he made for Sonic to track the Emerald’s energy instead.

It works, obviously, because Tails is a precious little genius. But no one stopped to consider how the mad scientist was finding the Chaos Emeralds. It makes sense that he would find a way to track their energy by using the one he found on the mushroom planet, but nobody thinks about that until Tails finds a way to do it.

Then they remember they just left Knuckles alone with a Chaos Emerald. They open up a portal to get him, but Robotnik is already there with a monologue about how how stupid they all were for assuming he wouldn’t return to this planet, he was the smartest individual, not just on Earth, but in the entire universe, and blah blah blah, psycho scientist banter, he’s Jim Carey and his blood is made of cocaine, you get the picture.

Cue rescue sequence for the resident Echidna of the group. They manage to get Knuckles and the Emerald away from the crazy doc, maybe even steal the ones that Robotnik has, Perhaps we even get a heartfelt response from Sonic because ‘you idiot why didn’t use the rings to escape, I told you to use them, we are not losing anyone else to this fight’.

And not to bring us to an abrupt halt right there, but as I’ve said earlier, we’ve got no idea what the other planets are like, so I can’t make any solid predictions. Though I guess you can’t call anything about this solid. It’s literally all speculation.

But, you know, they get the seven Emeralds somehow because teamwork. There’s probably a bunch of cool aliens to meet, some Chao maybe? That’d be rad. And, of course, tons of fight scenes because that’s what the Eggman vs. Sonic thing is all about. Who wins: A ex-government hired genius fueled by spite and pure rage or one Spikey Child and his Fam?

I’m thinking the final fight would have to take place one that circle in the middle, which I’ve already speculated could be a possible location for the Master Emerald. And that fight would. be. dope. I mean, it’s Super Sonic, for cryin’ out sideways!

Since the good guys always win the fights, Sonic and crew win. They probably wouldn’t kill him. Why would they? They’re the good guys. Knuckles very seriously considers it though. Like, Tom kinda puts a hand on his shoulder just to make sure he doesn’t because homeboy looks like he wants to shank the local nutcase, not that anyone blames him.

(this also serves a purpose for something else that always bugs me about Knuckles’ character, which is that he is very gullible when it come to Eggman, we see it all over the place with him. a scenario like this? eradicates that odd quirk in his personality without erasing any of his other good qualities. harmless pranks? sure, gullible as all get out. Tails and Sonic could even prank him at the end of the movie, and that’d be just the sweetest thing. but when it comes to Eggman? hell nah. nah nah nah, get that outta here.)

So they beat Eggman, maybe yeet him back to mushroom planet again–this time without any kind of tech. No ship for you, Eggy-Boy.

Then it’s time to go home. Here’s where it could go two different ways. Tails is going with Sonic, that seems pretty obvious at this point, and Knuckles could go back to Earth with them too if he wanted.

I don’t think he would, though. Being Guardian of the Master Emerald is an integral part to Knuckles’ character. And while, yes I would love to see him hanging out with Sonic and Tails more, I think this is something that will have to stay part of his history.

But if you think they aren’t inviting him over for Movie Night you are mistaken, sir. Knuckles is always invited to Movie Night. He doesn’t always accept, and that’s okay. They visit him too, just to see how he’s doing.

Sonic taught Knuckles and Tails to floss and that is a vital part of the sequel, shut up, yes it is.

And viola! Sequel! Oh, but of course we need a post-credit scene, don’t we? See Sonic being around the age of thirteen does have its benefits.

Because you see, that means we can give him two years of peace with Tails and his parents before before he’s fifteen, the age most Sonic incarnations seem to stick with.

Fifteen is old enough for a rival, right? Teenagers, you know what I mean.

And I’m not saying that Robotnik had the technology to replicate DNA and modify it, but I am saying… that he probably has that kind of tech laying around somewhere.

The government seems to fund the science department pretty well. And there’s a certain individual who followed Dr Robotnik around for a while, learning all his tricks. Mmmmmmmmmm-hmmmm. Agent Stone.

And I’m not saying Agent Stone is evil….

I’m saying:

What if Agent Stone created Shadow?

*aaaaaaand fade to black*

Now, if you made it this far… wow. Thank you! Like, seriously, holy shit. This was so long. I appreciate you for sticking it out with me. It took… a while to write. I don’t wanna admit the actual amount of time it took. But really, thank you for giving this a read.

[maree-ff]

How Could You?

CAMILA

I carefully took a seat on the couch, sinking into the material, feeling my body expand against my clothes. Bringing my hands to his back, I used the song in my head to guide the motion of my hands to keep Jorden at ease. He’s working through his second nap of the day and I’m doing everything I can to keep as still as I can. I want Jorden to catch up on his sleep now that the house is quiet again. With the girls at school and Andre working in his office, this is the perfect time for him to sleep. Dre and I have both been waking up at random times throughout the night for the past two weeks. Jo has been waking the house up screaming his head off. Each night is worse than the last. 

Our first taste of this when Jorden was around six weeks old. Back then we found a quick method to soothe him while he was resting after the third night. Now, exactly two years later, we’re going through the same thing. Again. This phase of his bad dreams are on another level. His cries and screams are bloodcurdling. With me still adjusting to being at home mom as my full-time job, I’m at rock bottom. Not working and making my own money is a foreign aspect of life for me. I don’t like this change. I hate this. I love being with my son everyday, teaching him new things, being able to monitor what he’s eating, drinking, and involved in. Honestly, it’s all a blessing in the midst of the madness. 

My feet have been sore for a week now, I have knots in my muscles and joints, my migraines have kicked up a notch, and my hair is shedding. Andre has been paying very close attention to my behavior and he’s about to figure out that I’m hanging on by a thread. I’d say that I’ve done a pretty damn good job of keeping myself composed but I don’t know how much longer I can hang on. At a time like this I’d love nothing more than to hug and talk to my mother. The memories of finding about her accident and death have come back full circle, with a vengeance this time! 

Around the time I lost my mom I was almost full term with Jorden so I never got to grieve properly. I had to keep myself together as best I could so I didn’t go into early labor, have a nervous breakdown, etc that would’ve harmed my baby. 

A tear rolled down my cheek just getting too deep into thought. 

“Pull it together.”  I whispered aloud. 

I speedily reigned in my emotions, focusing on ensuring my baby is relaxed. He shifted within my hold, turning inward so I can see his face. Cuddling him closer to my chest I re-situated his blanket to keep his back warm. His forehead began to  pinch but I intervened at the perfect moment. Touching my lips to his hairline I closed my eyes, swaying gently from left to right. 

“I promise we’ll get through this bubba.” I spoke quietly to him. “I wish you could tell me what’s scaring you so badly. I wish you would talk to me.” I sniffled feverishly beginning to weep in silence. I’m losing myself in motherhood. Not knowing how to stop Jorden’s bad dreams and not knowing what causes them is taking a toll on me. Combined with the other changes in my life, I feel like I am about to crack. 

The floor shook slightly as Andre came closer to this room. It took two seconds for me to stop crying only to start up again. That first step he took into the room I shielded my face in Jo’s hair. This way my demise won’t seem so obvious. 

“Mmph..” Jo squirmed and fidgeted, raising his hand to tug at his hair. Easily I stopped him before I felt Andre looking in our direction. 

“How’s he doing?” He asked first. 

“Okay so far. He’s still squirming and pulling at his hair but no crying yet. You still have work to do?” 

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be done in a couple of hours.” 

That was the end of our conversation. For now at least. We usually keep conversation brief until Jorden is further into his naps. I continued to clear my head of all negativity and remained focused on my baby. With only my ears I picked up on Andre cleaning our room and folding the laundry I washed this morning. 

For a two year old who comprehends extremely fast, Jorden still has trouble talking. He always tries but his words come out jumbled together. I’m in shock that at this age, my son isn’t speaking in at least half sentences. Andre is a little more patient when it comes to teaching Jo new words and phrases which is why he volunteers for the task. I on the other hand get frustrated because I don’t understand what’s going on with our son on a chemical level. 

I have bombarded Denise with many rounds of twenty-one questions as to where I went wrong in my pregnancy. She’s told me at the end of every hospital visit that I did nothing wrong. None of Jo’s learning abilities make any sense to me. Why is he struggling? How can I help him? How long will this last? 

“Look at me..”��

Turning to meet the eyes of my best friend I averted my sights down to his lap. I can’t keep this up much longer but the last thing I want to do is fight with Andre over the same subject. 

“Why are you trying to hide from me? I know you Camila so why don’t you just talk to me?” He advised.

I shook my head as a sign of disagreement, rubbing Jorden’s bareback. “There’s nothing to talk about. I just wish we knew why he keeps waking up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of his lungs.” 

“You must think I’m stupid or that we just met yesterday.” 

“I’m not thinking either one.” Switching Jorden to my right side I watched him go back to cleaning. He left the room for around five minutes and returned with Jo’s laundry. We resumed our conversation and I decided to open up more about what’s going on within me. 

Together we discussed different scenarios that could be behind the reason Jo keeps having nightmares. A few explanations started making sense to me and ultimately we decided we have to monitor what Jorden hears and sees a little more. He can’t be around when we’re fighting, we have to work on our issues in private and do better at keeping the peace in front of our kids. 

“I’m just scared that he won’t make any progress within the next year. I’m scared he won’t want to talk.” Breathing out through my mouth I threw my head back in the couch. 

“He will. We have to be patient and let him talk when he’s ready, Camila. The more we force him the more he pulls back.” Andre fought. 

“I know that but he’s already two years old. You don’t wonder why he’s not progressing? You don’t wonder why he’s not at least showing more interest in using his words?” 

“Camila..” Andre huffed. Our eyes met and in this moment I can sense how agitated he’s becoming with me.  “How many times are we gonna go over this? Let him be. I don’t understand why you’re trying to put this pressure on him to do something he doesn’t seem to be ready for. Denise said that he will start speaking in his own time. The only thing we need to be doing is prepping and teaching him. The rest is up to him.” He argued boldly. 

Peering down at Jorden wiggling around in my lap I watched him turn his face up to me. His lips squished together, the tips of fingers resting against his cheek and tiny lines etched on his forehead. I kissed each individual crease to help soothe his mind from whatever he’s thinking. 

“Lo siento mucho, mi amor. I must have done something wrong to cause you all of this trouble.” I whispered against his cheek. “I should’ve read to you more, played better music and spent less time stressing so you wouldn’t be progressing so slowly.” Hugging him tightly I ran my fingers through his hair. 

“Excuse you?” 

Glancing up from what had my attention I looked at Andre seeing this strong look of disappointment in his eyes. 

“What?” I retorted. 

“What did you just say to him?” 

“I was apologizing to him for all of the things I didn’t do while I was preg-“ 

“Nah don’t do that. Don’t try to cover it up now.” 

Not understanding what Andre is upset about I went back to talking to Jo. 

“So you’re just gonna ignore me? I asked you a question Camila.” Coming to stand in front of me Andre used his feet to support the weight of his body. He crouched down before me, appearing defensive and ready to strike. 

“Can you stop staring at me? I didn’t say anything wrong.” I defended myself. 

“So now you think it’s okay to call our son “slow”? Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you say that?” He rambled off. His eyes bounced between Jorden and I, seeming to get more and more riled up. 

“First of all, you need to watch your mouth. Secondly, I did not call him slow. I said that he’s progressing slowly. Sl-ow-ly.” I broke down each syllable so he can hear exactly what I said. 

“And now you want to speak to me like I’m stupid. Alright.” Standing to his feet Andre moved in, taking Jorden from me. 

“Wow, this is what you’re resorting to? Why are you taking him from me?” Rising from the couch I followed him down the hall. “How old are we, Andre? Can you stop for a second and talk to me?”

“Enough!” He barked. He spun halfway around and to my surprise Jo did not wake up at the volume of his father’s voice. We had an intense stare off. After I came to my senses, I looked around our house trying to figure out who this man thinks he’s speaking to like that. 

“Put him down.” I said. Andre didn’t even flinch. He stands strong, holding our son, with hard eyes and an even harder face. “Put him down, right now.” I said again. 

Andre hesitated for a quick second and took Jo into the girl’s room to lay down. When he shut that door I charged toward him, closing all space between us and shoved him with all my night. He lost his footing for a quick second but his reflexes saved him from falling. 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are talking to me like that but you need to get your shit together!” Composing myself I pulled down my shirt and stood my ground. 

“Don’t put your hands on me like that.” He warned sternly. 

Huffing like an angry bull I shook my head. “And you will not talk to me like you’re god or that you own me like I am property. I am not your child so I do not have to listen to you.” 

“How dare you? How dare you talk down to my son like that! How could you have sat there and labeled him like he’s some sort of science experiment? How could you talk badly about him to his face?” Andre stormed past me and headed back to our room, pacing back and forth. 

I followed suit to continue this debate once the door was cracked. “He is my son too! He is ours together! I carried him, I nourished him, I gave him life and is still to this very day nursing him myself! Don’t you ever again in your life come for my role in our son’s life. Don’t you ever twist my words around to make me sound like the bad guy. I would never say such a thing about our little boy. Never! I am the only person to blame for why he’s not where he could be. You have NO  idea what it’s like to adjust to a new baby, take care of two children, fill your shoes and still take care of myself.” 

“That doesn’t give you the right to say that he’s progressing slowly. That’s fucked up and it’s even more so that you’re trying to cover it up! I’ve apologized for being absent for as long as I was. How long are you hang that over my head? Huh? You think I purposely set myself up? You think it was easy being a prisoner? That was hell for me, Camila! Absolute hell and after all that I’ve done to try and makeup for my mistakes, you still blame me!” 

“Because I needed you, dammit! I needed you like plants need sunlight and water.” Pausing momentarily I shielded my face and let it all out. My mom and Divya have both warned me about holding things in, especially for long periods of time. “Andre, I have never said or believed that what you went through was easy. I’m sure being in prison is extremely difficult but I had to take your place. I had no choice but to be everything and more to our kids to keep us going. No one is diminishing your pain and suffering but take a second to think about how hard it was for me to play both roles.” 

I sat down ready to explain myself more. “I love you and our kids with all of my heart but I’m miserable. Jorden isn’t talking, he’s not sleeping well, I’m not working to provide for myself, and I-I feel like I’m losing it. I blame myself for why he is this way and my mothers gone. I wasn’t allowed the chance to grieve how I needed to because I was keeping it together for Jorden. The anxiety that I felt going back to work immediately following my maternity leave was so challenging for me. You’re back to providing for us all and while I’m so very grateful and appreciate, I miss making my own money. That feeling of providing for our kids just as much as you is gone and I’m lost on how to get it back.” Sharply exhaling I curled up in child’s pose, staring blankly at this new bedspread. 

“Why are you bottling your feelings up until the last second? You never used to do that with me.” His caring tone matched the voice in my head that sounds like my mom. I can hear her speaking to me and it’s bringing forth a lot of mixed emotions right now.

“I don’t know. I never thought I’d be this exhausted, Andre.”

Sitting next to me Andre turned me on my back so that we’re face to face. “Do you need to getaway by yourself? I can make that happen if you feel that you truly need it.” 

“I don’t want or need that.” I simply declined.

“Then what do you need?” He countered, laying beside me.

“For you not to pick fights with me. We’ve got too much at stake to-”

He  motioned for me to stop talking which means that he knew where I was going with my statement. “I know. I don’t like fighting with you either and I’m sorry for getting you riled up. I took what you said out of context and I apologize. We’re in this estranged and unfamiliar place but that’s no excuse for us to go at each other. Our relationship has changed baby but I don’t love you any less.” Andre lifted my left hand and ran his thumb pad across the tan line that hasn’t faded from my where my ring used to be. He softly kissed my hand, released it and left the room.  

I sat up in bed, sniffling my heart away, drooling at him undress at a snail's pace. Quietly exiting to check on Jorden I felt my tears amplify. Reviewing our petty yet important debaucal I stood in the doorway watching our little boy sleep soundly. His soft snores give away that he’s going to get a great nap this afternoon. The rising volume from the bathroom caught my attention again. My feet picked up speed before my brain could tell them to move. I stumbled a bit as my heart raced from within watching my man in the shower, all alone. 

Even though we have called off our engagement, he’s still my lover. He’s my everything. He’s part of the reason I live and breathe. Going backwards to shut our door I retracted yet again, discarding my own clothes. Discreetly yet using some noise I joined him with tears still rolling down both cheeks. With ease I shut the door feeling the temperature inside my body rise.

I snaked both hands up his back, up and over his shoulders.getting lost in the muscle mass and definition. “Lo siento mucho..” I exhaled, going in to kiss his left shoulder blade. 

“You don’-” he began. 

I silenced him abruptly. “I do.” Carrying on with my antics earned me the secure feeling of knowing where I stand within his heart. We are apart but we are one. We always will be. He is my better half as I am his. 

[aernox]

Anamnesis (Rivamika) Chapter 10 - By Accident or Design?

Fic Summary:  Levi wakes up handcuffed to a woman that he does not recognise. Neither does he remember how he came to be in this strange room. Finding more people in the same predicament, they find themselves armed only with a card with a name and a phrase.

(This is a very slow burn Rivamika thriller.)

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“TARGET ACCOMPLISHED; CARD TWO”

Mikasa threw a bewildered look at Levi, confused at what she was hearing. Not only confused by just the sound of the strange chime and the announcement that followed, but now there were multiple voices shouting, that appeared to be coming from the middle of library. 

Instinct told her to run straight to where the voices were coming from, but instead Mikasa pulled on the chain connecting the handcuffs to Levi as he began to run.

“Wait, Levi! Before we go and find out what is happening, we need to agree on something...”“Yes?” Levi asked.“I don’t want anyone to know about my wounds or the dream – or memory whatever it was.” 

Levi nodded.

“I agree. I think it would be dangerous to tell them. We still don’t know who we can trust. But… you can trust me.” Levi said, trying to reassure her.

Mikasa pursed her lips, not sure of what to say to him.They both started running and rounded the corner of the bookcase that had kept them hidden from sight away from the others. Mikasa felt the hair of her arms prickle and stand up as the air around them now was cool and chilly.As they got closer Mikasa and Levi could see the others had all formed into one group and appeared to have formed a sort of half circle around the fireplace that Mikasa and Levi had sat beside earlier. 

“Jean, what did you do?” “Did you hear that noise – that chime? What does it mean?” “He’s done something wrong, and now the maze is going to punish us!” “This is entirely your fault, Jean!” Ymir shouted.

Jean seemed to be standing between the crowd and the fireplace, which now had a fire burning inside. But something about the fire did not look quite right to Mikasa. Jean turned to his partner that he was handcuffed to, Ymir, and pointed at her.

“You were the one that was complaining that you were cold!” Jean retorted.

“Don’t put the blame on me and pretend like you weren’t cold either?!” Ymir replied.

It does feel colder than it was before…

“Look at the fire.” Levi said to no one in particular.

 The others were still shouting at each other but Annie and Bertholdt were standing close by.

“Yes, was can see it. It is a fire.” Annie said curtly.

“Annie…” Bertholdt voice was more of a whimper that anything else

.Mikasa’s brows furrowed in annoyance, not only at Annie’s rudeness, but because she too could tell that something was not quite right with the way the light and shadows fell around the fire.

“Levi is right. Something is back there. Something is behind the fire.” Mikasa said above the shouting.

The shouting in the room grew quiet, and now the group’s attention was now concentrated on the fireplace. 

“Is it just me, or do the shadows look strange somehow?” Somebody whispered.

Reiner took a step forward before turning back to Armin.

“Let’s go and check it out.” Reiner encouraged.

Armin swallowed hard and finally stepped forward with his partner, the chains of the handcuff clinking faintly as they went. The pair slowly approached the fireplace before Reiner cautiously knelt directly in front of the fireplace.Without turning back Reiner said something that the others couldn’t hear.

“What was that Reiner? We didn’t hear you.” Sasha said.

“I said, that it looks like there is a room here. A room behind the fireplace…”

“You’ve got good eyes Levi.” Bertholdt said.

With a huff, Annie crossed her arms across her chest.

“Let’s go and check out the new room then!” Sasha said with a grin. 

No doubt the prospect of more finding more food is on her mind. 

Mikasa smiled to herself at that thought, but it was soon gone when Reiner spoke next.

“Guys, I think someone is in there.”

“There’s another person in the room?” Jean asked. “Yeah… but I can’t really see much else from this distance.” Reiner said, picking out the logs from the fireplace and throwing them to the side.

“What are you doing? Don’t put the fire out – it’s cold in here!” Sasha exclaimed.

Reiner turned around and threw her an incredulous look.

“Do you want to find out what’s going on in this place or not, Sasha?” Reiner’s tone of voice was that of no nonsense.

Sasha’s only reply was that of a pout of her lips, and Reiner continued to carefully pull out the logs until the fire had all but died, and all the remained was a few embers. Everyone gathered closer to get a better look.

“So…who volunteers to go first?” Armin asked.

Reiner gave Armin a confused look.

“Armin… c’mon. We should go first.”

“We should give someone else the chance to volunteer.” The shake of Armin’s voice was undeniable towards the end of the sentence.

Poor guy. Reiner seems so keen to go, but Armin is holding him back because he is scared…he looks like a little boy.

Mikasa realised that she felt pity for him, but then she noticed that most of the crowd were now looking at her and Levi.

Are they expecting us to volunteer to go first?

“How about it, Levi and Mikasa?” Armin called out.

Mikasa had no intention of volunteering to go somewhere that could be potentially dangerous.

I’ve got my own problems to deal with. I don’t need more shit on my plate.

“Yeah, Mikasa. Why don’t you go first?” Annie’s voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Mikasa could always count on Annie to wind her up. With her mind now made up, she turned to face Levi, but to her surprise he was already looking at her. He too had decided but was waiting for the go ahead from Mikasa.

“We’ll do it.” Mikasa voice carried with it great confidence, as if she had always meant to volunteer.

With the chains of their handcuffs rattling, Levi and Mikasa approached the fire place, and they crouched down beside Reiner as he pointed inside. The room inside was almost pitch-black, the only light source that entered the small room was from the library itself. But now Mikasa could see what Reiner was pointing at.

“See that?”

Mikasa could just about make up a huddled shape lying on the floor of what looked like a small room. The last of light prevented her from seeing anything else in the room.

It could be a person…

Levi nodded and just before he was about to climb through the fireplace, Erwin stepped forward.

“I’ll go with you.”

There was a murmur of whispers among the group, some had confused looks on their faces, but the look on Armin’s was one of delight.

“The more the merrier, right?” he said.

“Glad to have you with us.” Levi said, as they shook hands.

“Let’s get to it then.” Mikasa insisted, as she took the first step forward, but Levi stopped her.

“Wait, Mikasa, I’ll go first.” Levi said.

Without hesitating, Mikasa clambered through the fireplace before replying.“It’s okay, I got it.”

“That’s some partner you got there. Does she ever actually listen to you?” Erwin said in a low voice so only Levi could hear.

“Tch.”Levi and Erwin followed Mikasa’s lead, as she waited on the other side she tried to make out the other shapes in the room.

“Are these hammocks?” She asked though she already knew the answer.

The hammocks were pinned to the brick walls of the room, and a few pillows and linen blankets scattered across the room. 

“Can we get a light or torch or something in here? Erwin called out to the others in the library.

“Sure, we’ll find something for you to use.” Armin called back.

Cautiously, the three of them approached the huddled shape on the floor. 

“It does kind of look like a person.” Mikasa whispered.

“Hello there.” Levi called out.

There was no reply from the crumpled mass on the floor.

“Guys, we have some matches that Jean had to start the fire.” Armin said, as he threw them into the small room.

 Erwin handed Levi the box of matches, a short hiss followed at he struck a single match. With a short fizzle, a small ambient light emitted from the match. It did not prove to be much of a light source, but it was better than nothing. Slowly, Levi approached closer to the mass on the floor, when Erwin stopped him.

“I’ll go first.” Erwin said, “In case it’s not safe. If something happens to one of you… You are both handcuffed to each other and escape might be difficult. Whereas I have no partner.”

Levi nodded, passing the match over the Erwin. The tall blonde man deciding that it was safe enough, crouched down and prodded at the huddled mass on the floor. With no reaction to Erwin’s touch, he turned the shape over, revealing what appeared to be an unconscious man. He appeared to be middle aged with short dirty blonde hair, and a wispy moustache. The three of them tried and failed at waking up the man lying on the floor, but he wore the same green tired threadbare looking jumpsuits that they did. Mikasa suggested searching for a card, like the rest of them had found on their person. Agreeing, Erwin still crouched down at the unconscious man’s side, began to root around his pockets. Finally, Erwin produced a card with the man’s name, and held it out so the Levi and Mikasa could see.

 ~*~*~ Hannes “W/” ~*~*~

“So his name is Hannes… but what does the bit underneath mean?” Erwin asked. Levi shrugged his shoulders and offered that maybe the others on the other side of the fireplace might know. “What did you find?” Reiner called

“We found someone, we’re bringing him out.” Erwin called back.

“Before we do that,” Levi said in a quiet voice to Erwin, “we need to talk. Not now, as we don’t have time. Later on once we get this guy Hannes back, meet me and Mikasa behind the bookcases at the far end of the library.”

Erwin’s prominent eyebrows furrowed together before he nodded silently. Mikasa knew that Levi did not believe Erwin to hostile, so she considered the alternatives and thought she knew where Levi was going with this. With the agreement settled, the three of them began to haul the unconscious man out of the small room, through the fireplace entrance and back into the library. They were met with puzzled and concerned faces.

“What happened to him?”

“Is he dead?”

The group of spectators were silent as Hannes was laid down on one of the now empty couches.  “No. He is still breathing.” Mikasa said, as she propped a pillow behind the unconscious man’s head. 

She watched his chest rise and fall, albeit slowly.

“Can’t you wake him?” Eren said with a confused expression.

After a long-spirited conversation, including what the card they found on Hannes said, it was decided that Armin and Reiner would keep watch of the man for the rest of night. The others were to go to sleep, and it would be decided what to do tomorrow. The group dispersed into their own corners of the library, trying to get what little remained of their time to sleep. 

Levi and Mikasa said nothing to each other as they made their way back to their alcove. As they sat back down on the couch they had shared, Levi reassuring Mikasa that she should try and get some sleep. It didn’t take long for her to drop off into her quiet slumber. Levi pondered over his thoughts, trying to rationalise what he was thinking. He took his name card out of his jumpsuit pocket. Take me back to where I belong. Levi turned the phrase on his card around in his mind, bending it every which way that he could. Knowing that key to getting out of maze was right in front of him. Distracted, he could hear Mikasa’s breathing become more even, as her shoulder slumped onto his. Her head lolled perfectly so that it lay comfortably between the crook of his neck and his shoulder. Levi heard Erwin approaching them before he had even turned the corner of the alcove. Levi nodded his head in recognition as Erwin took a knee beside Levi. “I waited until everyone was asleep. We’ll keep this quick and quiet.” Erwin whispered, his voice susurrus as he motioned to Mikasa.

 “Yes. Let us get straight down to it shall we. We will make an agreement. As you can most likely tell, you are not too popular among the others…” 

We are going to need allies.

“Yes, I gathered that,” Erwin said, the crinkle near his eyes betrayed tiredness, but Levi also thought it was worry. “But every group needs an outcast, or villain in some cases.”

Levi nodded, showing that he empathised with Erwin’s unfair position in the group dynamics.“For whatever reason they have chosen to go against you. I doubt that they would do anything now…but if things happen to get ugly, you can be assured that you will have our aid.”

Erwin’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Mikasa, still sleeping softly against Levi.

“Does she feel the same way?”

Levi said nothing. 

Erwin gave a sad smile. “I appreciate the gesture. It will be nice to know that not everyone completely is completely against me. But that being said, I don’t know what the three of us could do, if the others go against us. They greatly outnumber us.”

“Let us hope that it does not come to that.” Levi said.

“In return, I offer you the same. If there is anything I can do to help either of you, just let me know.”

Levi felt that Erwin’s words were sincere. He wondered at how alone Erwin must feel. Even though he wasn’t the only person without a partner here, the other had all seemed to fall into little cliques, with Erwin being the exception. His first impressions obviously left a lot to be desired.

“One question though. Making this arrangement requires trust… What did I do that made you trust me?” 

Levi hesitated before answering and scratched at the small bleeding scab on his arm. 

“Let’s just call it gut instinct.”

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[lady-divine-writes]

The Deadly Doubts of Aziraphale - Chapter 1

After they survive the Holy Water and Hellfire, Aziraphale and Crowley find it hard to be away from one another, constantly plagued by the paranoia that they'll lose each other again. But now, at this new stage in their existence, mostly free, something has started to trouble Aziraphale, something that manages to unearth every single one of his fears, driving him down paths that make him question everything he believes about him and his relationship with his demon.

(AO3)

“Bed or sofa, angel?”

Aziraphale doesn’t catch the question the first time even though there’s only four words involved, and none of them that complicated. He hears Crowley speak and that causes him to look up, but that’s as far as his comprehension goes.

“Hmm? Wha---what was that?”

“Where would you like to sleep?” Crowley clarifies. “The bed? Or the sofa?”

“Oh. I … um … hmm …” It’s a simple question. Aziraphale recognizes that. But he’s so lost to the thoughts in his head that he can’t formulate a simple answer. It’s as if Crowley had posed the question in Babylonian, and Aziraphale misplaced the proper wheel to decipher it. His brain has taken this simple task and made it monumental for no reason whatsoever.

But that’s par for the course, because very little feels simple anymore.

They’d driven for quite a while in absolute silence after their lunch at the Ritz. Pleasant conversation distracted them throughout their meal, but during a pause while their waiter poured their third round of champagne, their minds meandered back to recent unpleasantness at roughly the same time – Aziraphale recalling the look on Crowley’s face when he said he’d go off to the stars and not even think about him; Crowley remembering what it felt like to drop to his knees in Aziraphale’s burning bookshop thinking his best friend was gone. Truly gone.  

They’d had yet to admit it out loud, but facing the possibility of their own total demises wasn’t their biggest fear.

Losing one another, being left alone on Earth, was.

After lunch, they’d climbed into Crowley’s Bentley, their destination clear. Crowley would take Aziraphale back to his bookshop. They’d talk and talk and talk about everything and nothing for a while longer, skirting the darker issues at hand. Then they’d either get drunk or Crowley would leave, go home to his plants, the stark loneliness of his flat, and whatever nightmares decided to creep into his head while he waited for morning to come.

Crowley couldn’t face that, nor did he want to. When it came down to it - his wants and needs compacted till they could fit on the head of a pin - he wanted to stay with Aziraphale.

It took him over an hour of weaving in and out of city traffic to invite Aziraphale over, as a favor to him he’d said, and since Aziraphale had nothing in the way of plans, he accepted.

Privately, he was grateful he didn’t have to spend the night alone.

“I don’t want to put you out of your bed,” Aziraphale insists.

“Nonsense. You’re doing me a favor, staying over and all,” Crowley says, voicing the shallow truth; the deeper truth, like a bezoar in the stomach, too painful to unearth. “And Satan knows I’ve put you out of your bed enough times. It’s the least I can do.”

“If I take the bed, where would you sleep?”

“To be honest, I don’t sleep that much anymore.” Crowley stares down at the floor beneath his feet, the immaculately polished surface evidence of how little time he spends there. Most of his time, as of late, has been spent in Aziraphale’s shop - which is, by far, more homey than his flat has ever been – drinking himself to oblivion. Or in his car, driving to nowhere and thinking about the future, which, for a while, seemed to be headed in the same direction. “Who knows? I probably won’t sleep at all tonight.” Crowley glances up, catching Aziraphale’s eyes looking back at him. They’re a clearer blue than he’s ever seen them - a shimmering pale blue like the summer sky after an unexpected storm. Their color endures even with this dim light forcing his pupils to shove it aside. But they’re sad, too; heavily laden with worry and exhaustion. “I could sleep in here with you, if you’d like. On the floor, or in a chair. If you don’t want to be alone, that is.”

“The last time I was here, we both got drunk and fell asleep on the sofa,” Aziraphale recalls with a soft chuckle.

“I remember.” Crowley raises a hand to rub his shoulder. “Or, more specifically, my shoulder remembers.”

Aziraphale thinks it over, that same conflicted expression from the bus stop on his face. And like that time, he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You should take the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“But the sofa’s crap!”

“Then you shouldn’t be sleeping on it.”

“Neither should you. Urgh!” Crowley grabs two handfuls of hair and pulls in frustration. “We’re going around in circles, angel!” He searches his room for a solution and finds it in the form of nine identical Burgundy bottles on his bedside table – the walking wounded from many a battle with long, sleepless nights. “How about this …” Crowley grabs a soldier, kicks off his shoes, and drops down on the mattress “… lets you and me sit here together and get to the end of this bottle. If we’re still conscious by then, we’ll start in on the next, and so on and so on. Whoever falls asleep wherever, that’s where they’ll stay. How’s that hit ya?”

Aziraphale shakes his weary head. From a grammatical standpoint, only part of that sentence made sense. “I think I can do that.”

“There we go!” Crowley relaxes into the pillows lumped behind his back, finding the comfortable spot on his side of the mattress with a serpentine wiggle of his long body. He miracles the cork out of the bottle, but instead of taking the first gulp, he gives that honor to Aziraphale. “That’s the Aziraphale I know! And don’t worry – there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“I’m not worried.” Aziraphale toes off his own shoes and stows them under the bed. Then he lowers himself gingerly to the mattress and accepts the bottle. If Crowley were human, Aziraphale would say he has a drinking problem. As supernatural entities, it’s more like an inconvenience. Alcohol and sleep – two of the main reasons why the 1800s remain mainly a blur in Crowley’s mind – not that he’d admit to caring. Because he doesn’t. “There always is.”

***

“Who do you think you are?”

“I’m … I’m sorry?” Aziraphale looks up from his book, his head throbbing from the after effects of too much alcohol and too little sleep. Or perceived need of sleep. Either way, the combination of the two is making the words on the page in front of him swim. What is he reading anyway? He flips the book over to examine the cover but it’s blank. Spine too. Offhand, he can’t recall the last book he touched but he knows it wasn’t red, which the cover of this one is.

So what book is this?

“I said you who in the Heaven do you think you are?” Gabriel, looming over him as if on high, glares with a cool white fire in his eyes, balled fists pressing into his hips with none of the Archangel’s usual care for his finely tailored suit.

There’s a sin if ever I saw one, Aziraphale thinks as he eyes the wrinkles that would otherwise ruin the jacket if Gabriel didn’t have the power to miracle them away.  

“I … I am the Principality Aziraphale,” Aziraphale answers, as unsure of this question as he had been about Crowley’s bed or sofa question hours before. No matter how hard he tries, his mind won’t let it make sense.

Aside from that, he can’t shake the feeling he’s in trouble, but he’s not sure why.

Correction - he knows he’s done things that would get him in trouble, but which one in particular is Gabriel scolding him over this time?

Aziraphale scans the park for Crowley, from the ice cream vendor to the east down to the bandstand in the west. He should have been here to meet him at this park bench over an hour ago. There is, as always, a certain greatness to his lateness, this time especially, but he never makes Aziraphale wait more than half-an-hour; forty-five minutes tops. Unless he hits traffic on the M25, but he only has himself to blame for that. Perhaps he is here, saw Gabriel approaching and decided to stand by, keep a close eye till he left. Or wait for an opportunity to make some mischief, a thought that turns Aziraphale’s insides to jelly. He doesn’t need that sort of interference. Not now. “I inspire humanity.”

“Inspire humanity?” Gabriel laughs. “That’s a joke! You couldn’t inspire anything except the opening of a new all-you-can-eat buffet!”

Aziraphale puts his book down, fussing with the edges of his coat in a subconscious attempt to pull them closed. He can’t, and that adds emphasis to Gabriel’s taunt. Aziraphale should let it slide. Gabriel is his superior after all.

But he can’t today.

Today he’s not having it.

Why today is different from any other day preceding it, Aziraphale doesn’t know, but it is, he’s decided. He straightens his shoulders, feeling more of his spine than normal, and says: “Is there something specific you’ve come to jeer at me about? Or is this simply a social call?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, you nitwit! We’re not equals!” Gabriel growls, hovering uncomfortably close. “You may think you’re hot stuff because you averted the Apocalypse with big talk about God’s ineffable plan! But guess what, sunshine? No one’s amused! Not God, and definitely not me!”

“So you’re saying your opinion on the matter is more important than God’s?” Aziraphale asks, genuinely eager for an answer. But Gabriel, as usual, doesn’t feel obliged to give him one.

“I’m on to you. You may have gotten away with facing judgement for now, but I’ll find out how you did it. I’ll find out how you survived the Hellfire, and then you and your demon will perish together.”

“Yes, well, good luck with that,” Aziraphale says, quoting a turn-of-phrase he’d heard on something Crowley introduced him to called YouTube. Aziraphale calmly goes back to reading his book - or attempting to. The words on the page have gone from liquid-y black marks to tiny darkling beetles marching their way across his page, sometimes stopping to form the most obscene words in the English language. He turns the page, hoping to be rid of them, silently dismissing the Archangel seething beside him, but Gabriel doesn’t back down.

“We may have gotten it wrong last time, Aziraphale, but next time, we’ll kill you. See, I’m convinced the two of you managed to switch bodies somehow …”

Aziraphale goes cold from the ends of his hair to the soles of his feet. In an unfortunate turn of events, his wings unfurl from beneath his coat regardless of who may see as fight or flight kicks in, flight winning since Aziraphale knows he can’t battle an Archangel and win. Gabriel is baiting him. Aziraphale knows that, too. Gabriel doesn’t know for sure what he and Crowley did. He’s testing out a theory, gauging Aziraphale’s reaction to see if he’s correct.

And Aziraphale, too scared to lie convincingly, is giving them away.

“So what I propose we do is …” Gabriel inches closer, his voice dropping below his breath so only the two of them can hear “… we tie the two of you together and light you with Hellfire. Then we’ll douse whatever’s left with Holy Water. This way, one of you gets to watch the other die before they get banished from the universe.” Aziraphale swallows hard, and Gabriel’s grin spreads monstrously. “I’m betting by the sickened look on your pathetic face that you’d go first in that scenario.” Gabriel tuts in Aziraphale’s ear, the sound like the dull thud of a bomb impacting the ground before it goes off. “Too bad, too. Originally, I wanted you to watch your demon die, but I think it would be so poetic for him to watch you die. You appreciate poeticism, right? That’s why you sell those stupid books in that stupid human shop of yours.”

Aziraphale closes the red book on its foul-bodied little insects and hugs it to his chest, holding hard as a talisman of strength so he can face down the Archangel. It doesn’t provide much in the way of comfort. Crowley would give him more if he were there (the bastard!). But Aziraphale looks at Gabriel nonetheless, meets him eye to eye, terribly pleased with himself in the face of Aziraphale’s obvious fear.

“It’s a gamble,” Gabriel continues, sliding the words off his tongue slowly, relishing this moment, “but we’ll just roll the dice and see who wins.”

“D-don’t you dare bring Crowley into this!” Aziraphale demands. “He did nothing wrong! I did nothing wrong! We saved the world! Isn’t that what angels are supposed to do?”

“Don’t you dare blaspheme the title Angel by lumping your demon in with us!”

“He’s angel stock!” Aziraphale declares defiantly, voice shaking with anger and disgust. “And since he did what he did for the greater good, the term applies!”

“He’s a servant of Evil! By definition, he’s done something wrong, even if it reads as good to a soft-brained half-wit such as yourself! And speaking of you …”

“I am an Angel of God! Guardian of the Eastern Gate, whether you like it or not!”

“Wrong! You’re soft! You’re weak! And seeing as Eden no longer exists, there is no Eastern Gate for you to guard! It’s an empty title for an empty angel! And Heaven no longer has any need of you!”

Aziraphale bolts up from the bench, intent on running. He knows it’s a stupid plan as Gabriel runs every day and Aziraphale only runs when chased. Even then it’s negotiable depending upon what’s chasing him. Whatever he can’t elude by wit, charm, boredom, or aggravation deserves to catch him, in Aziraphale’s opinion.

And if it does, he has a wily old serpent about to help him out of any real jam.

Speaking of …

Aziraphale’s eyes dart left and right, but he sees neither flaming red hair nor snakeskin shoe of Crowley.

There are more than likely other angels around, lying in wait, ready to pounce if he somehow does get away, but he has to try. God in Heaven! If Crowley is hiding out somewhere waiting to do something, he wishes he’d do something!

Unless other angels have found him and whisked him away already!

Aziraphale doesn’t get a step away before Gabriel grabs hold of his wing and pulls hard. It doesn’t hurt. Aziraphale doesn’t feel anything, only pressure at his shoulder. But the ripping sound that accompanies it makes Aziraphale’s stomach turn over seven times then sink to his ankles.

“No! Stop! You mustn’t!” he cries, gasping when Gabriel dislodges his right wing and tosses it to the ground.

“Oh, but I am!” Gabriel starts in on the left. Aziraphale turns to avoid him but stumbles, heavier on one side than the other. “As of right now, you are Fallen!”

“I’m … I’m a demon?”

“Worse. You’re human. Now you can ingest all the vile mortal food stuffs you desire.” Gabriel snickers. “You might as well. Isn’t that what humans do for comfort? And you’re going to need it. I don’t think your demon is going to want anything to do with you now.”

Aziraphale watches, eyes wide with horror, as what’s left of his last remaining wing falls to the ground, shedding feathers into the passing breeze, leaving behind nothing but white-washed bone.

“No …” he gasps, shaking his head, reaching an arm behind him to feel for himself because it can’t be true. This can’t be real. Gabriel didn’t remove his wings. He didn’t make him mortal! Aziraphale has never heard of it. It can’t be possible. Gabriel doesn’t have that kind of power! Except …

He’d said God wasn’t amused. What if this was part of Her plan? A test, but of him, not humanity?

Test to destruction. That’s what Crowley says.

And this would work.

Being cast out of Heaven would destroy him.

Gabriel’s laughter echoes in Aziraphale’s ears as he spins in place, wrenching his arm behind his back in search of any evidence of his wings. But he doesn’t feel a thing – not a single bone, not a single feather.

They’re gone. Tossed away like common trash.

Whatever Grace he had, his Divinity, has been ripped away.

Somewhere in the annals of human history overseen by the angels, where the stories of their lives are kept, a new book has been created, birthed from thin air and opened to a clean page.

And the story of his life, whatever time he has left, is being written.

“No …” he mutters, locked betwixt shock and desperation; the future he’d hoped for, the one he’d fought so hard to win back and not just for him – for everyone – gone in an instant.

“No …” What the heck just happened!?

“No …” And where the Heaven is Crowley!? Why isn’t he here!?

“No …” He always manages to bound in at the last minute and pull Aziraphale’s feet out of the fire. He’d been so good at it in the past, he’d done it during times when Aziraphale didn’t know he needed rescuing.

“No …” But not this time, when Aziraphale needed him most. Why? Why!?

“No!”

***

“No!”

Aziraphale wakes with a start, a scream stuck in his throat that, thankfully, doesn’t gain traction. It stops just short of his uvula and lingers, but ends up gathering with a collection of other screams, forming the rock-hard lump clogging his throat and amplifying the ache in his chest.

He looks around, up and down, feels for the world around him, all that he can reach – his legs, stomach, head, the comforter beneath him, a bottle beside him, and to his right, a body. Aziraphale’s eyes snap to it, and he sighs in relief.

He knows where he is.

He’s in Crowley’s bedroom, the demon himself asleep beside him, lying flat on his back in the clothes he wore last night minus his jacket, his hands clasped together on his stomach, two more empty bottles lying between them.

He raises his arms and reaches behind him, sides screaming as Aziraphale pushes them beyond their corporeal abilities, fingertips searching for any hint that he’s in possession of his wings. But he feels nothing. He drops his arms and sighs. The best way to check his wings is to, of course, bring them out, but if he unfurls them here, he’ll smack Crowley in the face.

Probably not the greatest way to wake up, second to the hangover Aziraphale predicts he’ll have.

Aziraphale starts scooting his way off the bed, his aim to head to the bathroom and examine himself in Crowley’s enormous wall mirror. He sticks his left leg out then over till his foot touches the floor, doing his best not to shift the bed. He lucks out in that department. Whatever pricey mattress Crowley chose for this bed he rarely sleeps in is so firm, it doesn’t budge beneath him. But his journey isn’t without obstacles. His knee hits another empty bottle. He holds his breath and watches it, not enough mental faculty left in him to think to reach out and grab it. It rolls to the side, stopping shy of the edge, but doesn’t go over. Aziraphale secures it, setting it gently on its bottom on the floor.

He stands up, shakes out his sleepy legs and frozen joints, and tiptoes to the bathroom. He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook inside the door. He stands in front of the mirror, scrutinizing his face, his eyes, his hair for any clue that he might no longer be an angel. He feels like an angel, although he can’t honestly say he knows what not an angel would feel like.

He’s been living amongst humans, but he’s never been human, so he has no reliable frame of reference.

He takes a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for what he may or may not see. He counts to three and thinks his wings into existence. They unfurl, stretching out full and white from side to side, as beautiful, if he does say so himself, as the last time he saw them.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispers, falling forward slightly, leaning against the counter with his palms pressed against the edge, the pain of it drilling into his head that he is indeed awake, and that his wings are not a dream.

Losing them was.

But it felt so real. Could it, on some level, have been a warning?

“There you are,” a rough voice says from the shadows. “I thought you might have left.” Crowley stammers in, a hand pushing his hair off his forehead, the lines on his face making him look like he may have woken in much the same way Aziraphale did. And then to find him gone?

Aziraphale feels awful about that.

“I’d never leave while you slept. That would be cruel.”

“Are you planning on taking a little morning fly around the block or …?” Crowley blinks his yellow eyes, peering at the angel’s face in the mirror. “Aziraphale, are you all right?”

“Yes. Fine. Perfectly. I just needed to check …”

“Is there something wrong with your wings?”

“No. No, I … nothing. I’m good. Wings are fine.”

“Well …” Crowley runs a hand down his tired face “… did you want to come back to bed? Get a few more hours’ shuteye? I could miracle you up some pajamas if that would help.”

“No. I think, maybe, I’ve slept enough.”

“All right.” Crowley rubs his hands down his face vigorously, determined to wake up though he looks like he could use a couple more hours himself. “I could whip us up a spot of breakfast.” Crowley’s fuzzy brain recounts the contents of his refrigerator at present – wine, more wine, but possibly some eggs. He’s not certain that they’re chicken eggs, or edible, but they’re ovoid in shape. He might have some cheese stuck in there, too … which is to say he had a container of milk he bought ages ago, so hypothetically it would have turned to cheese by now. “I mean, I could order us something. Have it delivered.”

“Yes, yes. That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale replies, barely listening, “but before you do, could you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Could you … give my wing a tug?”

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up to the fire-line of his hair. “You want me to what now?”

“Grab it by the top and pull on it. As hard as you can. I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid it’s difficult at this angle.”

“Could you tell me why?”

“I have my reasons. I’m checking something.”

Crowley softens. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That makes two of us. But there’s something I need to know.” Aziraphale turns, looking at Crowley straight on rather than through the reflection of the mirror. “Please?”

Crowley sighs, nodding before he can physically bring himself to say a word. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

Aziraphale makes a non-committal noise in response because it’s not what he wants. Not at all. But if he says that, if he even hints at it, Crowley might not help him.

Crowley puts his hands on Aziraphale’s right wing, carefully caressing the arch at the top with one hand while he grabs hold of the joint that attaches to his shoulder with the other. There’s a heat to Crowley’s hands that comes from his being a demon. But it’s comfortable, pleasant, reassuring ironically now that he’s preparing to pull Aziraphale’s wing off. Regardless, one thought enters Aziraphale’s mind and stays there, holding on with hooks and nails … and gentle fingers curling around edges and bends.

Having Crowley’s hands on his wing feels intimate.

“Uh … okay.” Crowley bites his lower lip. If there’s one thing in the world he’d wanted to do this morning, this isn’t it. Nowhere on the top ten list. Not even on the bottom fifty. “On the count of three then, all right?”

Aziraphale braces himself against the counter. “All right.”

“One … two … three.”

Crowley tugs with most of his might. He can’t bring himself to use all of it, his shoulder joint aching with the phantom of a similar pain when he does. He knows he has the capacity to break Aziraphale’s wing if he puts all his strength behind that pull.

He’d never forgive himself if he did.

Aziraphale yelps, a shaking hand flying to his mouth, pain fluttering his eyelids shut. Crowley has pulled the hardest he dares, but the wing doesn’t budge.

“There you are,” Crowley says, removing his hands quickly before Aziraphale asks him to do that again. “Stuck on tight. Not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale moves the wing in a circle, relieved when it stays fixed in place. “That’s … that answers that. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Crowley feels like a heel. Lower than a heel. He feels like a snake. But he’s a snake that would do anything to see his best friend smile again. “Might even say it’s tickety-boo.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale puts a hand to his sore shoulder and rubs. “Tickety-boo.”

“May I?” Crowley asks, replacing Aziraphale’s hand with his own when Aziraphale’s fingers fail to reach the right spot.

“Y-yes. Of course.”

Crowley massages Aziraphale’s shoulder, applying pressure in rhythmic circles, moving to where his wing meets the joint. He seems to know just where to touch, his hands warming again, and even though it crackles with demonic power, it’s still soothing.

“How does that feel, hmm? Better?”

“Yes. Much. Thank you.”

“Good.” Crowley turns Aziraphale away from the mirror, wraps his arms around him, and holds him, rocking him slightly in his embrace. He unfurls his own dark wings and wraps the angel up in them, blocking Aziraphale’s view of the mirror, grounding Aziraphale to one thing and one thing alone.

Crowley.

Aziraphale goes rigid, unsure what to do at this point. He knows about hugs, but he has no memory of anyone every holding him for the sole purpose of giving him comfort.

Or at all, really.

But the more Crowley holds him, the more natural it feels to melt against his body and allow himself to be held. But this instinct surmounts the physical. There’s a yin and yang to it. The angel in him can feel the demon in Crowley, Evil sizzling beneath his skin. But as a Servant of God, a Messenger, an Envoy of Love, Aziraphale feels the good in him, too. It may be latent good, or dormant good, but it’s there – a golden spark in the cold and dark, fighting for its right to exist where it shouldn’t, to re-pave a path long grown over with vines but still there, still functional, lying underneath.

“Is this all right?” Crowley asks.

“Yes. Quite.”

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“No. Not at all. Not a bit.”

“Good. Because we may need to do more of this … if that’s something you find agreeable.”

“I do.”

Hugging, Aziraphale decides, is nice.

And this one is better than nice.

It’s the first ever true and honest hug of Aziraphale’s existence.

[amethyst-noir]

and if you want another prompt, maybe just Stephen coming out to Tony? Like they were friends, ever since they all defeated Thanos they kept in touch and now they are best friends so Stephen thinks he should tell him the thing he only told Wong before? But he is very nervous and scared anyway.

This is cute, sweet and hopefully a little bit of fun. They end up together after pining away for each other,what did you expect? Happy end and all that. I’ve got a promise to keep.

Nothing to fear

“What am Isupposed to do?”

“First ofall? Stop running around like a squirrel. Second? Tell him.”

Wong, the originalunmovable object, just stood there, arms crossed, and looked at Stephen as ifhe were the greatest idiot of all times. To be fair, he kind of felt like thatat the moment. It shouldn’t be this hard. They lived in modern times, Tony wasa modern guy and Stephen should be able to just open his mouth and tell himthat he liked guys way more than girls.

That wasn’t theproblem. He could do that, he’d done it before. What he’d never done before wasgoing up to the object of his desire and tell them that he wasinterested. All his other affairs with men - which were not that many, to behonest, he’d always been more concerned with his career than sex - hadapproached him, not the other way round. Despite all his precautions they’dseen something in him, could tell his interest and acted on it. Sometimes ithad been great. Sometimes… not.

Fact was, StephenStrange did not know how to flirt when he was seriously interested. A fewharmless innuendos, not to be taken seriously, were no problem. He’d winked at TonyStark after knowing the guy for about thirty minutes, for heaven’s sake! Hecould do cute banter and sarcastic quips with the best of them. Which was Tony,once again.

“Stephen!”Wong broke through the endless circle of self-recrimination with a shout.“It’s easy. You like Stark, he obviously likes you or he wouldn’t keep youaround or come over all the time.” Despite the harsh words there was nocriticism in them; he liked Tony, after all, even though he tended to show itthrough sarcasm. A language both Tony and Stephen were fluent in. “It’s nosecret that he likes girls and boys, so I really don’t understand yourproblem.”

“But I don’tknow if he likes me.” It was a cliché, yes, but Stephen reallyhadn’t planned on speaking those words out aloud. He groaned, closed his eyesand finally sat down on the big library sofa. “Forget that I saidthat.” Even when he’d been a teenager he hadn’t felt like this. Thisis how you know that it’s the real thing. He shoved the thought away,again.

Wong laughed.“Never,” he said but he sounded kind about it. He sat down besidesStephen and even went so far as to put an arm around him. Physical touch wasunusual for them and Stephen leaned into it gratefully. “Believe me, helikes you. If you weren’t blind concerning him you’d have seen it months ago.He looks at you like you’re personally responsible for the sun rising in themorning.”

“That’s kindof his thing, isn’t it,” Stephen muttered. “Savior of the galaxy andall that.”

“Which hecouldn’t have done without you. Just tell him. He’s not going to run away andbanish you from his life forever.”

Stephen shuddered.Wong had put his fears into words. “He likes me as a friend, yes. But whyshould he…”

Wong stopped himright there and then with a gentle whack to the head. “Stop it. I don’twant to hear it. Swallow your pride and tell him or stop pining after him likethe lovesick fool you are. It’s getting tiresome.”

*

I don’t want toruin our friendship but I thought you should know…

By the heavens,this couldn’t get any worse. In his mind he’d tried pretty much every phraseand by now he had arrived at the stilted ones, straight out of some trashymovie. But at least they work, he thought and knew it that momentthat it was enough. Time to stop acting like a teenager and be himself.

The only problemwas that he just didn’t know how to be himself anymore. Instead he was anervous wreck; had been since the moment he finally realized that he’d managedto fall for earth’s greatest defender, also known as one of the suavestplayboys to ever grace the planet. In the same moment Stephen had lost everylast shred of his own composure and left behind was an insecure mess thatwanted but didn’t know how to ask for it. It was a new experience for him andhe hated it.

He’d cancelled thelast few meetings with Tony last minute and by now the man probably thoughtthat he’d made some faux-pas and that Stephen hated him. He’d seen Tonyspiral down into self-hate without much reason too often to not know that hewas not the only he person he was hurting with his behavior.

Time be himself;Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and forty-three years old. Hecould do this.

The Cloakfluttered behind him, as if to give him support.

*

His resolve hadalmost left him again by the time he’d opened the portal to the tower.

“Hello,Stephen!” At least FRIDAY sounded happy so see him and Stephen automaticallysmiled at the nearest camera and nodded a greeting. The Cloak waved. “Bossis in the living room. You’ve got the authorization to just go through. He’swaiting.” Stephen’s spirits lifted.

He nodded histhanks, took a deep breath and went in search of Tony.

“Hi!”Tony, obviously told of his arrival by FRIDAY, smiled at him and Stephen feltthose mythical butterflies in his stomach. Tony’s smile really could not onlylight up a room but power the whole world for a week if he really meant it.“You made it! Great!”

Stephen smiledback by reflex. “Hi. Yes. Sorry about that.” Words were hard but hehoped that his expression showed his sincere happiness at being here. The Cloakgave him a little push to propel him a little bit nearer to Tony and he shushedit with an impatient gesture.

Tony, laughed,again. “Trouble with your cape?” The Cloak, who was used to this kindof teasing, swatted at him, deliberately missing him. “I must say that Ilike the new look.” His eyes wandered up and down Stephen’s body, hisintention clear, and Stephen couldn’t help but blush. It wasembarrassing. He was in normal clothes, just some old jeans and an even oldershirt. They were from before the accident, before he’d gained muscle mass, andwere a little bit on the tight side, but still comfortable. The outfit showedoff two of his best attributes - his legs and his shoulders. At least that waswhat the Cloak had told him before it had decided to be his jacket for theevening.

A jacket that nowfloated away to commune with FRIDAY, or whatever it did whenever they came overhere for an evening, and left Stephen just standing there, feeling exposed.

He likes you, Wong had said. And you’re both idiots. Considering the way Tonywas looking at him right now Stephen had to conclude that yes, he was an idiot,blinded by his own insecurities. He finally shrugged, still not knowing what hewas supposed to do, let alone say.

Tony finally cameclose to him, reaching out with one hand. “If I may?” He didn’t evenwait for an answer but stepped right up to Stephen and looked up. The heightdifference wasn’t that big but enough that Tony had to stretch a little andStephen had to bend down a little.

Tony’s hand landedon his shoulder and stroked over the soft, worn material. “Very nice,”he almost purred. He didn’t mean the damn shirt and Stephen could feel theblush creep over his face and down his neck. “At first I didn’t know whatto make of your skittish behavior,” he continued. Stephen wanted toprotest against that description but was too busy just breathing in Tony’swonderful scent. Besides, it wasn’t untrue. “But then I began to think andresearch,” Stephen shivered, he’d seen Tony in one of thisthink-and-research phases before and it was hot as hell. All that concentration,focus and pure stubbornness focused on him? Tony thinking about him,caring enough about him to dedicate time and effort? “And ask questions.Not that you noticed, you were so fucking clueless I couldn’t believe it. For atime I even thought that you might not be interested. You’re a master at givingmixed signals, Stephen.”

“It’s a gift.You’re not bad at them either.”

“I was justcopying the master.” Tony’s hand slowly wandered from his shoulder to histhroat - as if he knew just how much of a turn on that was for Stephen -and up to his face.

The sensualcontact finally broke through the numbness. He was a little bit hesitant but hebrought up a trembling hand to hold on to Tony before pulling him close for akiss. Finally, he thought, before his brain went offline to concentrateon other, more basic things.

=/\=

[werezmastarbucks]

Soothsayer [4]

[1]

[2] 

[3]

Word Count: 2075

Warnings: Language, Drinking.

Genre / Pairing: Parent!Tony, drama, contemplating.

You took on drinking. Natasha entered the kitchen space, observed it with her eyes, and saw you at the counter, trying to come to terms with whiskey. Oh well, since they’re all dead, might as well start drinking. She thought you were sometimes being too dramatic – even given the circumstances. She didn’t sleep for the past two days, too agitated with all the work. The world needed some gluing back, and she was in the middle of it, surprisingly clear-headed. She was coping better if she didn’t have time to eat, or blink. She felt almost fixed. After people started disappearing all over the country, and beyond, the collateral damage level sky-rocketed at the bitching pace. Three hundred thousand additional deaths in gruesome accidents or through suicide, that, with exactly half of the Earth’s population gone. Imagine a train with no machinist, or a plane with no pilot. All the mothers dispersing suddenly right in the middle of the street, leaving their children startled and confused, circled by empty cars, performing their wild waltz. The buildings fell, the space objects operated by people crashed down killing small villages, and the television studios were being wiped clean, looking like haunted spaces after a zombie apocalypse. And yet, the world was so quiet, like everyone was afraid to breathe. The only sound was clinging of the glass in Y/N’s hand, and at the end of the day, Natasha decided, it wasn’t the worst decision.

She placed herself calmly next to you, turning the bottle to face her, although she knew what kind of whiskey it was. The compound, though not Stark’s place of living, was his barony. So, only the best things definitely. Never has Nat thought that she would go warm inside at the thought of Tony Stark. That she would thank the heavens for him being around, and alive. However, there was another side of being alive for him at the times like this.

Nat couldn’t help grinning when this thought stroke her mind. At the times like this.

You looked at her. She was very tired. You did nothing all day and looked even worse.

“Can I help?”

She bit her lip, staring through the counter.

“You’re not leaving the compound until you’re fully healed physically”.

“Thank you, ma’am”.

Two questions circulated at all places inhabited by humans now: how are you? and what do we do? You asked none. You drank together in silence.

 Tony Stark rubbed his face, which felt like sheepskin. When he opened his eyes, he saw the blurry picture of Y/N. She was holding on her side like it was causing pain.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m walking. What are you doing?”

“Tryina…” he scoffed. The pipe wouldn’t move. FRIDAY’s seen a leak yesterday, that let the heat escape the walls in the basement room where he kept the old suits. He’d entered the room, looking around at the dark-red gleaming silhouettes behind the glass. Only the chosen ones, the oldest versions, like the priceless pieces at the museum. He’d fought the impulse to blow this place up. Whatever happened here, a whistling sound told him that there was an actual hole in the wall, god knows why. He busied himself with it. He had four hours to go before catching the plane.

He punched the plastic pipe with his fist in sudden rage. He could feel his right eye twitch.

“Is Rogers here?”

“Yup, I think so”.

“When can you go out? I need you to come to Washington with me”.

“I could go today”.

“You sure?”

He examined you with a strict knowing eye. He shook his head to himself. You didn’t pass.

“Get this bitch moving, please, do me a favor”, he sighed and leaned back, sitting on one knee. He couldn’t waste all his energy on one fucking pipe. You were staring at the thick white worm, not believing there still could be such prosaic problems to deal with. You stretched out your hand and sent a hot impulse to the side of it, moving it slightly to the wall.

“NO! The other way, dammit!” he exclaimed sharply, waving his hands, and then his palms went up to his face again. You flinched at Tony’s outburst, pressing your arms to your chest like a rabbit.

“Sorry. I’m sorry”, his hand laid on your back, and you nodded, putting your hands on the pipe again.

“It’s okay”.

“Nothing’s okay”, Tony said in that tone of voice that you couldn’t describe any other way than dancing. When he was losing control so badly even his throat seemed to vibrate sporadically.

“This shit is torn off, Tony”.

“You don’t say. We need to take it out and change it”.

The rib sent killing waves to your nervous canals once you leaned forward, bending, and you ouched quietly. Tony pulled at your shoulder firmly. You were both sitting on the floor surrounded by his suits.

You swung your head looking at them, recalling how you’ve seen Mark II when you were a child. He seemed like a miracle. Iron Man was standing above all people, a gleaming golden and red titan of strong lines, with the sun behind his shoulder, the panels on his chest and his back shining like the sun itself. He was always the epitome of hope to you. You never voiced it, but… well… you didn’t even know how to phrase it to yourself correctly, so that it doesn’t sound cowardly, or cruel. You were glad Tony wasn’t one of the dead ones. You knew he wished he was. And yet you were glad to have your non biological father around. Now you already got familiar with that unpleasant idea that if he died, you’d probably weren’t much worse off; and yet. And yet. He was sitting on the floor next to you, his black coil-like eyes scanning all things, looking for something he knew he wouldn’t find. And then they land on you and get one thousandth calmer. And you can’t wish for more.

“Boss”, FRIDAY’s voice ascended on you before you could say anything. She sounded so polite and respectful. She was perfect. You felt migraine strike you right in the forehead.

“Thor has arrived”.

“Thor?” Stark lifted his face like she was on the ceiling, then looked at you. He stood up and offered you his hand, and you grabbed it, folding your fingers around his wrist. Why have you never appreciated this moment of contact? How could you think there was something more precious in this greasy, cold, noisy world, than the feeling of somebody’s palm gripping yours in support? Dry burning touched your eyes, and you took his hand with another, rising slowly, keeping his palm between yours in the solemn gesture. He didn’t pull away when you refused to let go.

Thor looked fresh and fit compared to all of you. He was standing there like a skyscraper, with his usual curious look on the bright face, despite all, and you citizens of the Anguish Town surrounded him like he was the messiah.

Rocket was sitting on a high chair at the counter, his small attentive eyes have located a dark bottle near the sink. Unfortunately, it was empty. The last Guardian’s thin legs were hanging funnily from the chair, and you took a second to appreciate the sight of it.

“Hello, friends”, Thor said. Benner was limping. He rubbed his left fist on his thigh and marched to the counter, passing you with a nod. He’d shut himself in the lab just like you, in your bedroom, and you two had barely seen each other in a week or so.

“Anything new? I thought you’d be far away, chasing the douche”, Tony requested politely. Steve watched from afar, his arms crossed on his chest. Thor gave away a small smile.

“Well, we haven’t found Thanos, not yet. But we have located somebody who could help us. She is, in fact, a Midgardian, and I was thinking to first council with you, in case you’re familiar with her”.

“What’s her name?” Bruce asked.

“Carol Danvers”, Thor offered readily, and did a pose. You raised your eyebrow. Rocket was already chewing on something.

“Doesn’t ring a bell”, Stark confessed, “Anyone?”

A round of slowly shaking heads. Tony gave a long look to Steve, and he shrugged.

“Why are you standing so far away?” Tony asked, hurt in his voice. “Why are you not paying attention to me”. Rogers sighed, giving up in advance, and headed to the rest of you heavily. He wasn’t holding a grudge though. You saw Stark’s hand going up and landing on his back briefly once he got close. You leaned on the counter not to give away how badly you wanted to knock yourself to sleep. The painkillers were killing you, not pain. They gave you headache and were putting you to sleep, making your slow brain work even more slowly.

“Well, she’s our good chance for help. Me and the rabbit, we shall reach out to her, and, I figured”, the Asgardian nodded towards Cap and Tony, “Stark would like to go with us”.

“No can do, not today”.

Thor frowned.

“Alright. Tomorrow. Is tomorrow good?”

“Who is she, that Carol Danvers?” Natasha wondered, slightly irritated. Ha! Romanoff doesn’t know someone?

“She’s our big hope”, Rocket noted knowingly. He grew even tougher yet than he used to be.

“Hope for what? How can a Midgardian help you locate Thanos? I thought you were the best at it”, you were puzzled.

“Oh”, Thor’s face alighted, “no. Not with Thanos. With your deceased ones”.

Silence fell on everyone for a second. You felt a small axe hit on your brain once, and then hot air left your nostrils. You swayed.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. Tony was standing in the defensive pose, clutching his elbows, at his shoulder.

“Well, to bring them back”, Thor smiled lightly, with the soft condescension that marked his every conversation with the mortals. The softness in his heart, piercing it through and making him smile warm, every time he had to explain something to them, was unmistakable. Thor would never get enough of their awe, the mouths agape, their powerlessness they expressed when faced with the wonders of the Universe. Their denial, and shock, and their convulsive attempts to take everything in at one bite. He could never get enough of the Earth.

“De… you can’t just…” Benner started and shut up.

“Or can you?” you finished slowly. Thor smiled at them. Oh, he forgot to tell them, didn’t he. Yes, back there, in Wakanda, when he lost Thanos because of his foolishness, when everyone started to disintegrate, he was so preoccupied and angry, he forgot to comfort them, and left. Bah! He was about to slap himself on the head. He gave out a laugh that startled his friends, and made their faces go as long as the tail of a comet.

“No-no-no, we just call them deceased, well, to mark their absence, but they’re not really… ah, you didn’t start mourning them, did you? I am so sorry that I haven’t mentioned it earlier. You must all feel like idiots”.

Tony’s mouth opened and closed, and then his eyes went completely black. He hissed something like a snake, and no one could translate.

“Wait. Are you saying they’re not dead?” you didn’t realize you were yelling.

“Oh, no”.

“Where are they?” Steve whispered. Rocket cracked his fang on something and swore under his breath. You jumped at the sudden noise.

“Well, they’re inside the Soul Stone currently. That’s how it works, you see, - it takes the souls and conserves them inside, it’s very greedy indeed. But it is possible to restore the lost lives. I mean, it happened to me once, about seven hundred years ago…”

You lost sight and touched your face to check whether you still held other senses. The bright green spot before your eyes was stealing the kitchen space, the raccoon, Thor, and the sunshine gathering behind his back. The tip of your nose was cold, and you pinched it. That was it, you’ve had enough, you told yourself. A huge bird with sharp golden feathers raised its head inside your chest. You turned your head to where you thought Steve was standing, gasped for breath. Someone grabbed your shoulder. Steve Rogers glanced at you, his hands falling down. The soothsayer was right again.

taglist: @shelbyyychristian

@csigeoblue

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[bb-roin]

The Howler

Paring: 

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood)

Summary:

Crossover with OotP where Hiccup took over Care of Magical Creatures when Hagrid was away. Then someone decided to embarrass his boyfriend in front of the whole school with a howler.

Notes:

Originally posted on Lofter in Chinese. Some details are different. No beta. Lots of confusing phrases and grammar errors are on their way.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Or keep reading it here : D

The Howler

"Blimey! Look up mate!"

It's the reflex of a seeker that saved Ron's pumpkin juice from spilling over the table. Harry had to take another moment to check nothing was ruined before he could raise his eyes.

Then he couldn't help but stare.

The thing looked like an eagle, though Harry was pretty sure no eagle was normally made of ice even in the magical world. Flapping its wings, it glided through the great hall gracefully under the astonished looks from people below, leaving a trace of snowflakes on its way. Its crystal feathers glistened beautifully in the morning light that cast through Hogwarts' bewitched ceiling.

But the appearance of the ice eagle was not the only thing that caught everyone's attention.

Clutched on one of its claws, was one of the worst things you could receive as a Hogwarts student during your breakfast: a bright red howler.

Harry turned to see who was at the end of the eagle's flight route, then, somehow not so surprised, found Professor Haddock sit there with a quickly paling face.

His shock died down a little bit. After all, it was not the first time a peculiar messenger showed up to deliver something to the said professor. Harry still clearly remembered the day when a Terrible Terror decided to bang into the hall without any warning, causing as much mayhem as a troll could have done until Haddock came in. He would have enjoyed the show much more if he hadn't had a complexed feeling for the professor at that time.

Haddock was the new professor who took Hagrid's teaching spot when the half-giant was who knew where. Harry knew it was irrational to hold a grudge against the young professor when the other probably didn't have anything to do with his friend's missing, but he just couldn't help but feel like he had stolen Hagrid's place. It certainly didn't help that the fact Haddock was a pretty good teacher had given some people (especially Slytherin) an excuse to openly suggest they dump Hagrid once and for all.

What's more frustrating was that Harry couldn't really find much to go against those similar opinions since himself enjoyed Haddock's class too. He missed Hagrid, really, but the same phrase could not use to some (most) of his creatures and class.

Back to the present, the ice eagle had already reached Haddock's seat at the front table. It dropped the howler right into his plate, circled for one more round before let out a cheerful chirp and busted into small flakes. The professor was instantly covered by the ice pieces from head to toe.

Patting the ice off his shoulder and head, Haddock looked grim and was glaring at the howler at high alert. He also seemed very uneasy under everyone's attention and was not sure whether he should open the howler right here and now.

That slight hesitation proved to be unnecessary since the letter decided to burst itself open. Haddock only managed to put himself backwards with a hard push before that happened, others didn't even have time to cover their ears.

"HI HICCUP DEAREST!"

After the initial boom, a male voice yelled and hurt everyone's eardrums with its loudness, but in a carefree tone no one expected to hear from a howler.

It was not polite to evade someone else's privacy, but it was impossible to ignore such a loud letter. Only a few were still pretending their focus was on the breakfast while most of them just gave up and leaned forward to have a better view.

Haddock facepalmed.

"DUDE, WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? YOU NEVER CALL, YOU NEVER WRITE… OKAY, I KNOW TECHNICALLY YOU CAN'T USE YOUR PHONE THERE, BUT THERE IS STILL NO EXCUSE FOR THE LACK OF LETTERS. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR DAY AND NIGHT AND WHAT HAVE I GOT? NOTHING! SERIOUSLY? THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME?"

Although it was strange to hear the word "phone" saying out loud inside Hogwarts, it was just downright weird to hear someone pouting through a howler. Ron made a disgusted face beside Harry.

"SO I AM THINKING: WELL SINCE SOMEONE IS SO SHY MAYBE I SHOULD BE THE ONE TAKE THE LEAD. BUT USING NORMAL OWLS IS JUST SO LAME. NO MINE HAS TO BE SOMETHING SPECIAL. I TAKE YOU HAVE MET MY BEAUTIFUL CREATION? ISN'T SHE A BEAUTY? IT TOOK ME HOURS TO MAKE THE CHARMS WORK. I HOPE I WILL GET SOME OVERDUE PRAISES HERE."

Professor Flitwick actually looked impressed. Harry guessed whatever it took to make an ice eagle was worth high recognition. The only one thought otherwise seemed to be Haddock. He was busy sending daggers at the screaming letter with a flushed face.

"OKAY BACK TO THE POINT. HICCUP I MISS YOU! IT WAS HARD TO SEE YOU BEFORE BUT NOW IT IS JUST UNACCEPTABLE. YOU SAID IT WOULD ONLY BE FEW DAYS, NOW IT'S ALREADY WEEKS! I REALLY HOPE IT WON'T BECOME MONTHS 'CAUSE FOR MANNY'S SACK I WON'T SURVIVE THAT. HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE THE LAST TIME WE SAW EACH OTHER? MY HEART IS BLEEDING, HIC."

Some girls giggled at the nickname. Even Harry quirked his month. It was oblivious that the two of them were close.

Haddock wasn't deaf or blind and he clearly saw the crowd's reaction, which might be why he looked like he was considering tearing the letter apart right now.

If he was really thinking about that, he probably should have taken action sooner, because then the howler shouted:

"I KNOW YOU WOULD GET MAD AFTER THIS, BUT COME ON, CAN'T I MISS MY BOYFRIEND???"

The great hall suddenly became very quiet despite the booming voice, which made the situation much more awkward than it already was. People either stared or dropped their jaw, or both, and Harry once again had to save Ron's pumpkin juice. Even Dumbledore, who had been polite enough to continue his breakfast like nothing happened, also raised his eyebrows.

And Haddock was doing a very good job imitating a tomato.

"I AM NOT HAPPY WITH YOU, YOUNG ONE, YOU MUST CONTACT ME RIGHT NOW." the seriousness in the tone dropped as soon as it came, "OR YOU MAY FIND HANDSOME ME RIDING THE WIND TO VISIT YOU AT MIDNIGHT IN THE NEAR FUTURE. OR YOU CAN JUST VISIT ME WITH TOOTHLESS. IT'S NOT THAT FAR FROM THE NORTH POLE. WITH THE INSANE SPEED OF YOUR NIGHTFURY, WE MIGHT EVEN HAVE SPARE TIME TO SEE YOUR DAD. PERHAPS THIS TIME HE WILL LET ME TAKE YOUR HAND."

Harry would have been more surprised if he hadn't been startled first by the squealing coming from several directions. Some girls had to cover their month to stop themselves. They were all red-faced like they were the one being proposed. Harry couldn't understand them sometimes.

"BUT I STILL VOTE FOR THE FIRST OPTION. WE HAVEN'T HAD ANY SECRET DATE AFTER WE GRADUATED. MAYBE IT'S TIME TO REFRESH SOME GOOD MEMORIES!"

Now Haddock was staring at the air with a desperate look. Harry almost pitied him.

"OH DAMN I SHOULDN'T HAVE RAMBLED SO MUCH. I GUESS I HAVE TO FINISH THIS RIGHT NOW. EXPECT ME TO SHOW UP AT ANYTIME! BYE HIC! FROM JACK WITH LOVE!"

The howler burnt itself as soon as it yelled out the last word. The hall fell back into deadly silence.

Haddock looked calm, alarming calm, consider how red he was just moments ago. And it was terrifying. Harry almost flinched when he glanced at those green eyes and found nothing but burning fury. Things would be very ugly for certain someone.

No wonder they said love was always bittersweet.

Haddock stood up slowly without saying anything or looking at anyone. He then left through the side door. The chatting and noise took few more seconds to be back.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, both wondering where to start.

"That's the weirdest howler I have ever seen." Ron said eventually, "And believe me, mate, I KNOW howlers."

Harry could only nod.

Fin.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Bioshock Rebirth Original Concepts

Be warned this was the first piece of concepts concerning this AU. Be warned of spoilers from the series. Especially if you haven’t played the games. A lot of this or so has changed. Mainly the ending. Including the first person I showed this to was @pikablob who I wanted to give me criticism. Posting these finally. Including I’m gonna put the keep reading thing before this. Instead of after I say I shouldn’t write a Bioshock game. Including some of Pikablob’s comments I put in here as I looked through this.

My Bioshock 3/Reimagining AU. The, “Rebirth” au.

Here’s what my two big things I thought that played into this.

1. I want a Bioshock game taking place in modern day. 2020 or so.

2. I miss Elizabeth/I want Elizabeth back.

Strangely was inspired in a way by Silent Hill Shattered Memories. But not like in a way, “Andrew Ryan is your therapist where he asks you to beat this mannequin with a golf cub to release your anger”. Which is honestly silly in a way. But also even Bendy And The Ink Machine. Which is ironic considering Bioshock inspired Bendy. Which is mainly the ending.

But also going with the concept of, “What if Jack wasn’t controlled and wasn’t actually a experiment or so? What if like before I found this stuff out. But what if Jack was a normal person? How would a normal human being respond to Rapture? How would they feel about everything that’s happening there? How would a pure hearted person respond to that situation? How would they try to help everyone as much as they can? As they confront characters like Andrew Ryan and Frank Fontaine/Atlas with their mindsets and whoever else?”

Yet also like I’ve said before. I seemed to went in this similar direction that Paul W.S. Anderson did with his Resident Evil films. Because I am disappointed with what I’ve read about Burial At Sea and whatever else.

But when making this and learning more about Infinite. I’ve realized the game having the title, “Bioshock Infinite” has that title for a reason and this AU seems to be basically, “Bioshock Infinite but it’s set in Rapture”.

Yet also it feels very Anti-Rapture and seems like something well....probably yeah I shouldn’t write a Bioshock game. 

1. It turned from a sequel into a reimagining that is a sequel in way. Somehow someone(Possibly someone with powers similar to Elizabeth or maybe the twins) took the main Bioshock universe and made a different universe. Yet strangely in a way destroying the timeline. This is basically a reborn version of the games universe. Where Rapture was constructed later down the line. Characters were born way later. 

But also this person even combined these events or so into one area.

2. The protagonist of this is a 21 year old US Marine private(Was wondering what to make him. A Marine seems to work) by the name of Archie Jackson. His ship or so gets destroyed or crashes near the lighthouse. Where he discovers Rapture.

I was wondering where to place it at. I’ve been thinking of placing it during the Rapture civil war. Where Archie(and some surviving marines that make it but die later on) feels compiled to try to help everyone as much as he can. But until he realizes as of now the most important thing right now is somehow getting Elizabeth out and possibly anyone else. 

Even though considering his character. It’s hinted that the best ending is the canon one. 

3. The story is again possibly during the Rapture Civil War. Where he meets Atlas through radio and believes his side of the story. Thinking Andrew Ryan has become a corrupted rich douchebag or so. Atlas tries to get Archie to save a young girl that he claims is Andrew’s daughter named Elizabeth in some place. That she is the key stopping this war and getting everyone out of here. Telling Archie they’ve been doing experiments on her in this statue.

*Originally I thought about Atlas lying about Elizabeth being his daughter. But it wouldn’t make sense as a lie*

Yet after rescuing Elizabeth and seeing things aren’t fully correct or so. Especially when Andrew slowly realizes Atlas is Frank. Where he tells Archie to call Atlas by his real name Frank. When Archie calls Atlas that or asks him if that’s his real name. Atlas is surprised but tries to shrug it off. But Atlas decides to brand Archie as a traitor and realizes Atlas is just Frank. 

Where he rescues Elizabeth from the resistance because Frank was gonna use her for his own selfish reasons. Now Archie against both sides. Andrew’s forces and Atlas’s forces. But also with maybe a new version of the Songbird chasing him and Elizabeth. He tries so hard to get Elizabeth out of there. But also the possibility of the little sisters when meeting Tenenbaum early on. Including not just to escape, but to tell the world of the existence of Rapture so it can be stopped or destroyed.

Yet during his journey. He comes across other characters. Including Andrew and Frank and calling bullshit on their mindsets. Yet they also question him as well. Archie wants to kill them. While I could make this a choice. But he doesn’t kill them because what’s the point anyway. Including them saying, “You think killing me is gonna solve any issues?”

4. While I haven’t fully thought about the ending. Yet it’s cheap and this is where it was inspired by Bendy. After some how Archie and Elizabeth get out. The events of the story restart. Where Archie before his ship crashes or so meets a friend(Most likely played by Matpat). His friend makes a comment about a circle of how it goes round and round. Whatever other talk they have. Archie is mainly confused about it. But it’s basically a hint at, “He just told Archie he’s gonna be in a cycle. He’s gonna go through these events over and over again”. 

With his friends last comment to him as a weird and sick callback to the phrase, “Would you kindly” as he asks Archie to maybe check on something. Which he does and he thinks his friend is asking nicely. It’s not mind control. But it’s a sick callback to the story of the first game. Where Archie ends at the start.

This reveals his friend or so is putting the events of Rapture through some loop for his own sick amusement or so. Thus it’s rebirth over and over again. Connecting to the theme of the first game of, “A man chooses. A slave obeys”. But it goes like this.

That you make all the choices you want. Even if all of those choices are the purest or the best decisions which are the most likely canon ones. Everyone gets to choose what they do.

But everyone, including Elizabeth, Andrew, Frank, Delta, Booker, everyone and especially Archie. They are all slaves in a cycle for someone’s possible sick amusement. Which is strangely tragic. Including with the next point making it worse.

5. Everyone except Archie has memories or so in a way of their main game universe counterparts. Andrew remembers getting beaten to death by Jack in Bioshock 1. Elizabeth remembers dying in Burial At Sea and going through multiple timelines with her father. Frank remembers tricking Jack and using all of the Adam to transform himself. Delta remembers the events of Bioshock 2. Everyone has memories in a way of their main game universe counterpart.

Even the Big Daddies remember a bit as well. Where they go to routes that their Little Sisters are confused of what they are going that route. Because they remember going to the route. Or even knowing when a Splicer pops up to attack. Even the Songbird remembers a little where Archie and Elizabeth will hide in a place.

But these are all vague memories. They feel like dreams and they sometimes feel the aftermath of some of the pain. But they don’t know if it’s real. So they question their own sanity. But what confuses them more they feel like they’ve been in this situation before. They feel like they were born earlier in history. This feels like Deja Vu but they don’t know what to believe.

Until they slowly realize Archie never existed in the main games universe. Even though their is the possibility of him remembering some stuff. He is prone to not remember most of it. But the idea is characters are thinking in a way, “Archie never existed. We are stuck in a possible cycle. But Archie is the one because of his newness to Rapture some what drives the cycle to keep going. Archie wasn't mean to exist”. Yet Archie doesn’t know this and so it’s not exactly his fault. He just wants to take Elizabeth to Paris and survive these events. Will admit the wasn’t meant to exist part sounds harsh.

6. The reason Elizabeth is here because while it’s not fully developed yet. Their is the possibility that someone(Possibly Andrew but maybe most likely Frank) murdered Comstock and took Elizabeth, took some of the designs for Columbia, and applied them to Rapture. With the possibility of using Elizabeth as a means for science. Or even use her to build or power Rapture. But I’m not sure about that.

But it paints Andrew as a hypocrite in a way that while Rapture was all, “No gods or kings. Only men”. But he has a girl that can open tears in a place that defies all logic that will make people question reality itself. 

7. Archie is in a way a self insert. But he’s meant to represent the audience in a way of how would normal human beings react to Rapture. Even though I can make the option a avatar. But I’m keeping it as a guy no offense.

Another thing in this universe. Archie is actually the birth son of Jack in this universe. Where(This doesn’t make sense) the first game in a way some what happened. But Jack was never controlled. He was put out in the real world had five adopted daughters, and his age speed slowed down actually. 

There are hints to this where Archie talks about having 5 sisters that are the reason how he acts today. Telling Elizabeth they were basically his role models along with his dad. Including saying his dad is in his 40′s or so. But he looks like in his 50′s. 

Alluding to the fact Jack in this universe is his dad. What’s the biggest giveaway is Archie’s last name means, “Son of Jack”. 

Now I’m thinking because Archie existed. There is the possibility Frank could of used Jack to rescue Elizabeth(Which would be strangely intense). But instead Archie was the one that went to Rapture. Basically changing the events because Archie never went to Rapture. Thus(But also started by his friend) starting the loop that everyone is trapped in. 

8. I was wondering what to do with Booker because he tells his wife of what he did.. Two ideas were 2 after his wife leaves him after he sells Elizabeth/Anna to Comstock, Booker kills himself because of guilt. 2 is where after that he tries to become a better person despite of what he did. Maybe working for Frank or so.

But after trying to come up with a main bodyguard/agent for Andrew. A Hunk like character. I thought about combing that with Booker. Booker in this universe is Andrew Ryan’s main bodyguard and one to lead Andrew’s other soldiers. 

Booker after his wife leaves him basically disregards life. Becoming a lacky to Andrew in a way. Not caring who he hurts and just goes with what Andrew says. He doesn’t know Elizabeth is his daughter until later in the game. 

In a way he becomes the thug Elizabeth calls him in Bioshock Infinite. With him trying to chase down Archie and Elizabeth.

9. There are characters possibly from all three games. Such as Andrew, Frank, Tenenbaum, Elizabeth, Subject Delta, Booker, Sinclair, Sander, and possibly some others. But I haven’t put much thought into some of the characters roles. Including the idea of what you told me about the twins. I haven’t put them in this yet. 

10. A follow up/sequel idea was the idea of maybe Subject Delta or Jack will be the ones to break the cycle. Thus ending what Archie’s friend has been doing. Yet I’ve been thinking(Mainly for humorous reasons) it should be this universe’s Jack. After he finds out his son is stuck in a cycle in Rapture. Including possibly remembers his true origin.

Jack basically becomes a force of nature you don’t wanna fuck with. As he goes to Rapture to save his son, Elizabeth, and maybe anyone trapped in Rapture that wants to get out. 

He becomes that buff dog meme I made of Jack where he’s like maybe to one of his daughter, “Sweetie....get me one of my finest sweaters please” and just becomes the Doomguy as he literally DECIMATES Rapture. Because he’s the OG of Rapture considering the game’s original story. But now he’s older and he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Especially towards Andrew and Frank because I’m gonna be funny, he just despises those two and just wants to save his son. 

Jack is all like, “I want my son back. I am not giving a fuck anymore. Because FUCK your city, FUCK your ideologies, FUCK everything about this place”. Been thinking he has facial hair face or something while wearing a nice sweater. But he is SO DONE. Because the phrase, “Would you kindly” most likely doesn’t work on him anymore.

Edit because of a response to this by my good friend. It’s very likely the cycle part will be recycled. This is also because there was no real ending planned and I wanted to make this story more deeper until he told me it’s basically cheap angst like Burial At Sea. But also this cycle being sequel bait.

“Okay so mostly I really like it! I think Archie is an interesting character and the idea of him being Jack's son is really neat! Considering all the dimensional shenanigans it's not bad that Bioshock 1 sort-of still happened but Frank and Andrew are alive - maybe they got pulled in from another universe (similar to what happened to Elizabeth?)”

“The only thing I really don't like is the cycle - partially cause that's the one thing I hate about Bendy's storyline and partially cause I hate stories without some kind of happy ending, but that's subjective (it's an opinion) - it doesn't mean the idea is bad it just means I really don't like it”

“My other problem is the idea that someone created this universe to mess with - there is sort-of precident to this with the Lutece Twins but they don't make universes they just mess with them - like I wouldn't mind if someone found a universe where rapture was still around in modern day, and transported Andrew, Frank, Elizabeth and the others to it, but this mysterious person making that universe from scratch feels off”

“But yeah overall I really like the idea!“ 

“The thing is I think the opposite - having a cycle of suffering is just cheap angst IMO And one key thing is that only Bioshock Infinite has a cycle *cycle And that cycle got broken in the game”

“Burial at Sea wasn’t part of a cycle it was just similarly full of cheap angst”

“Like if you want to do it as everything happens over and over again and it’s all depressing that’s not inherently bad But personally I hate it”

“Yeah Andrew isn’t evil at all - he’s definitely wrong and misguided but he’s doing what he thinks is right And I just really wanna see Archie Take Elizabeth to Paris (and also save the little sisters and stuff)”

“Yeah I mean the idea of rapture being known is an interesting AU Especially in the modern world” - Pikablob,

[angstgremlin]

Ask me for the Moon

Pairing(s): McHanzo

Rating: T

Summary: Jesse's been tracking this werewolf for a while, so he decides to ask for help from another hunter. Hopefully, the other hunter doesn't figure out Jesse himself is a werewolf.

Read on Ao3

Author’s Note: More Werewolves, okay? Okay. Title comes from a phrase which basically means asking an impossible request.

~Tip me with Tea~

Jesse’s lived in this town for about a year now. It’s a tiny little hamlet tucked deep inside a thick forest, perfect for a Hunter like him. Dense forests attracted all sorts of creatures, so there was never a shortage of work. Just last week there had been a Wendigo harassing a group of hikers. And Jesse wasn’t the only hunter to have the same idea. He met the other hunter briefly recently while stopping by the convenience store, an attractive Japanese man a little older then Jesse himself named Hanzo. It was nice to know that if Jesse needed backup, he’d have it.

Which leads to now. Jesse’s been tracking a werewolf in the area, and after a few months without any progress made, it was high time for a new perspective on the case. The only downside is that the other hunter might figure Jesse out and try to hunt him. The anxiety that rises at the thought makes Jesse itch idly at the seam of his prosthetic arm where it’s attached. There is no visible bite scar left on his body, the mark of the curse gone with his lost arm. Jesse still feels the teeth from time to time, a phantom pain he could do without.

His old hunting dog Molly sits next to him in his truck, and her greying face turns back towards him when he growls a little at the ghostly sensation. Jesse just reaches over and scratches her ears, and Molly turns from him again to watch the foliage of the forest pass by. Bringing Molly to meet with Hanzo is a precaution on Jesse’s side, normally a hunter’s dog is trained to detect werewolves. Her being present should clear Jesse’s slate, if Hanzo even suspects him of being a werewolf at the moment. Can’t hurt to be safe.

Soon enough his truck is pulling up to Hanzo’s place. A well kept two story cabin surrounded by thick foliage and trees. Jesse would have nearly missed it if Hanzo hadn’t told him of a carving Hanzo had made in a tree that marked the road to the cabin. Jesse puts his truck in park and clambers out, moving to Molly’s side to let her out before approaching the porch.

Jesse has to turn back to look for Molly when she isn’t immediately at his side, his companion standing tense and alert next to the wheel well of his truck. The reason for her nervousness is easily spotted; Hanzo himself owns two dogs it seems. Two dark furred Akitas lay chained to the porch railing, one of which stands at attention while the other is staring at the newcomers warily.

“It’s okay, Ms. Molly.” Jesse reassures his old gal, returning to her and scratching her ears, “They’re jus’ as shy as you.”

To prove his point Jesse goes up to the dogs, trying to tramp down his nervousness. They could easily point out his Lycan status to Hanzo. To his surprise though, the two Akitas slowly wag their tails, pressing their noses to his hand to ask for pets. Jesse happily complies, and that’s where Hanzo finds him moments later. The sound of a throat clearing is what notifies Jesse to Hanzo’s presence, and Jesse grins sheepishly up at the other hunter while he rubs one of the Akita’s bellies. At least Jesse didn’t blush.

“I see you’ve met Katsu and Masa.” the other hunter says by way of greeting before offering Jesse his hand to shake. “It’s good to see you again, Jesse.”

“Good ta see you too, Hanzo.” Jesse rights himself to take Hanzo’s hand and shake it.

More pleasantries are exchanged while they make their way inside Hanzo’s cabin. Molly and Hanzo’s Akita’s follow before settling down on a large doggie bed in the corner of the sitting room. Molly just flops between the other two dogs. It’s cute enough to make Jesse snort.

“Our pups get along well enough, that’s a good sign,” Jesse says as he settles in a chair across from Hanzo in the living room. “If they’ll work together, we should follow suit for sure.”

Hanzo hums in agreement, pulling a map of the forest trails and the nearby town out from a folder he’d retrieved from a locked cabinet. Clipped newspaper articles follow, and Jesse leans in to take a closer look as Hanzo spreads them out. A lot of it is witness sightings Jesse himself is aware of, but the map is new. Hanzo’s circled areas of the sightings, drawing an even larger circle around where all of them have taken place.

“The wolf we’re hunting likes to frequent this area.” Hanzo taps the circle when he sees Jesse staring, “It’s far enough from town that there’s no way any of the residents there is our werewolf, but it means there are a lot of cabins to check out.”

“We can cross both o’ ours off, at least.” Jesse jokes, before getting back down to business, “All the sightings happened at night, full moon, that whole shebang. At least we know we’re dealing with a Moon-shifter.”

Hanzo nods and hums, looking lost in thought. Jesse’s close enough to catch whiffs of Hanzo’s scent every time he moves. Hanzo smells a little bit like the woods after a good storm rolls through, and Jesse has to force himself to stop leaning towards Hanzo to get more of the scent. Jesse’s playing a dangerous game as it is with this hunter, no need to get his libido involved.

“At least we know the wolf will only shift on the full moon, so that brings down the chance of civilian casualties. The only issue is being able to locate the creature by the next full moon.”

Ah. Now, this is where things get harder for Jesse. He shifts in his seat next to Hanzo, trying to make his body language as controlled as possible to hide his unease.

“Can we find it before then somehow?”

Hanzo turns his gaze to Jesse, and he can feel he’s being studied carefully by the other man. Jesse sits taller in his chair under that gaze, trying not to think about how pretty Hanzo’s eyes are. Goddamn, they are though, and Jesse’s sure he can hear his heart hammering.

“It would be a lot safer to confront the wolf when it’s not a wolf, that’s all.” Jesse says, “Huntin’ a wolf in their human form isn’t impossible, jus’ a little harder.”

Hanzo’s turned his gaze from Jesse, staring intently down at the map. Jesse’s confident he’s stepped in it now before Hanzo looks up from the map.

“It would be possible, and admittedly more beneficial.” Hanzo starts. He turns his gaze from Jesse again, looking troubled and apologetic. “I am actually out of town the week the full moon rises, so I would not be able to aid you.”

Well, that makes it much easier. Jesse tries not to let his relief show so plainly.

“I’m sure we can find it before then. Two hunters should easily be able to track a werewolf in such a small area.”

A week later, said hunters have still not located the wolf. On the upside, Jesse got to know Hanzo better at least. Jesse’s hunting partner is a skilled bowman and has a humor drier then the deserts Jesse hails from. It’s only natural for Jesse to be smitten with his archer friend when that week ends.

Jesse even had to fight down the urge to give Hanzo a good bye kiss when he saw Hanzo off on his trip. Heck, Jesse had offered to take care of Katsu and Masa for him, but Hanzo had refused politely. Hanzo already has a dog sitter for them lined up. Part of Jesse almost hopes that the hunt doesn’t end that soon when Hanzo returns home. Any excuse to spend more time with Hanzo would be a blessing.

“I’m in deep, Molls.” Jesse laments to his dog, laying out on the grass in his backyard as he awaits the full moon.

Molly offers no condolences, only flops down next to her master, and yawns. She’ll no doubt be sleeping by the time the moon rises enough to trigger Jesse’s shift. In the meantime Jesse scratches her ears idly, thinking of dark eyes and hands callused from archery. It’s enough to calm him before the shift that when it hits it happens without much issue.

Jesse shakes himself as he raises onto all fours in his wolf form, before trotting off into the dark wood. With Hanzo out of the area, Jesse feels better knowing that he has free reign of the woods without worrying about the other hunter coming across him. Now he can hunt the other werewolf without Hanzo possibly discovering him.

Jesse’s just crossing a small stream when he hears the crash of foliage under a large body. The sounds could mean a million things, could be a lot of different animals, but whatever it is sounds large. A bear could be a likely culprit, but Jesse can’t risk not investigating and letting the other werewolf slip through his fingers again.

Jesse stalks through the foliage quiet as he can, following the noise. The noises double back the way Jesse came, heading back towards Jesse’s cabin. With that realization, Jesse treads more carefully.

Jesse almost gets right up to his backyard before he realizes the noises have stopped. He stays stock still, crouched in the bushes, listening. Not even Molly safe and sound in the cabin is making a sound, and Jesse is grateful for his hindsight in taking her back inside.

Jesse listens and waits for another minute before he rights himself, the trail is apparently cold, and he’s chased it to its end. It’s in the middle of him turning back that a huge form comes crashing into him. They both roll with the force of it before Jesse is flung clean through a small tree. The noise it makes is like a thunder crack, and Jesse shakes off the twigs and debris as he rounds on his assailant with a snarl.

It’s the other werewolf, and if it weren’t for Jesse’s heightened senses, he probably wouldn’t have even seen the other wolf aside from their glowing eyes. They’re smaller than Jesse, sleeker, with black fur that’s mottled grey around the muzzle.

They circle each other, waiting for the other to make their move. The other wolf makes a move first, lunging for Jesse once more. Jesse’s prepared for the attack this time, getting under the wolf and tossing them aside. Jesse takes the opportunity to pounce, pinning the other wolf to the forest floor.

Jesse’s about to go for the throat and fix this werewolf issue once and for all when he catches the scent of a summer storm rolling through the woods. Jesse keeps his teeth from the other wolf’s jugular to chase the smell, sniffing loudly between them both before he backs off of the wolf in shock.

“Hanzo?!”

Confusion then recognition flickers over the other wolf— Hanzo’s— face.

“…Jesse. You…”

“Yeah.” Jesse looks sheepish, sits back down on the forest floor. “You too, huh?”

“Yes.” Hanzo rights himself and plops down across from Jesse. “This complicates things.”

“Oh?”

“Do not misunderstand me.” Jesse must not have hidden his disappointment from Hanzo all that well. “I do not mean anything bad by that. It's just that the hunt we’re on cannot go on, now that we know who the other werewolf is.”

“Not quite what we expected, huh?” Even with a muzzle, Jesse’s crooked smile is there.

Hanzo laughs in reply, short rough chuffs. Jesse finds he likes all variants of Hanzo’s laugh. Jesse has to keep his tail from wagging.

“No, not at all.” Hanzo settles down more comfortably. “But I admit, I’m glad it turned out this way.”

“Me too.” Jesse drums his paw pads against the earth. “So. Would you like ta go out for coffee?”

“Are you asking me on a date, not moments after you found out I was a Lycan?” Hanzo tilts his head, amusement in his voice.

“To be fair, ya only figured out I was one moments ago too.” Jesse grins in response.

“This is very true.” Hanzo does that chuff laugh again. “I think I will take you up on your offer. Coffee after tonight would be great if that would work for you.”

“If your shift is anything like mine, we should make it a breakfast date.” Jesse finally lets his tail wag. “I know I’m practically a starved man when the sun rises.”

“It’s a date then.” Hanzo smiles, a big razor-sharp smile, but to Jesse it’s still beautiful.

“Wonderful.” Jesse grins a big pointy smile of his own. “Last one to your backyard buys?”

“That’s a little childish, don’t you think?” Hanzo raises an eyebrow before rising to his feet, looking down at Jesse and tilting his head once more.

“Aw, that’s not— Hey, where are ya going?!” Jesse barks when Hanzo turns away from him.

“I believe it’s called a head start,” Hanzo calls back with a laugh as he trots into the darkness.

Jesse scrambles up to his feet to give chase and the forest echoes with their shared laughter.

[elysiumrp]

Celina Irene Leonette Amari || Registered Vampire || Pro-Supernatural Portrayed by Emeraude Toubia

Biography /

Celina Amari is the vampire one would meet and automatically think that she defies all odds. Since before she was born, it was engraved in her code that the life she would have would be blessed with happiness, virtue, and prosperity. Whether some think of it like a little paper with a fortune on it or how it actually is, Celina will let you decide. She knew exactly how her course was, and how she did was simple – her parents. Being born in 1928 was a game changer for the world; they were introduced to Amelia Earhart, to Mickey Mouse, of antibiotics. It was to change everything just as her parents wealth brought the Amaris to the United States in the late 1800s. The following year, however, challenged that when the Great Depression started with the Wall Street Crash. Unlike the rest of the United States, Celina’s parents were the two of three people that remained employed and prospered thanks to keeping their savings away from backs and having earned their status. It was a proud feat that she learned, wanting to be just like them even when she was ten years old and the rest of the world seemed to crumble. Not the Amari family, they always made it out for some reason, yet no one ever questioned it. She always had a reason to remain joyous, how could she not if her family remained loyal to one another and had their bodies easily above water? The Great Depression ended and the family moved from Boston to Manhattan, it was the greatest time for Celina and her older sister - New York was the place to be if you lived on the East Coast, and just in time for their teen years. Even with the fear of World War II, Celina watched her sister go to be a nurse while she stayed behind because she wasn’t old enough. The only reason she remembers is because it was the first and only thing she wasn’t able to have. To the majority, it seemed selfish and as if she were spoiled. To Celina, it was the experience she wanted, not the fact that she wanted something. Which is what brought her to where she is now, as a vampire, and able to live her infinite life experiencing everything since she had been born on the perfect decade to do so. Announce the supernatural and give away their secret, she loves it because it’s just another thing to get through, and as an Amari, that’s what they do – Survive. And survive blissfully.

Important Points /

-- Celina lived her teenage years feeling as if things weren’t complete. As if there was a vital ingredient missing that took away the complete joyousness that her childhood had brought. It might have been the way she was conditioned, knowing that she had to live up to how her parents had been just by seeing them and not them telling her to. For them, they were happy however she turned out to be. To their luck, Celina wanted an education and wanted growth, and for her own sake, she wanted to attend Columbia University and lead her education to get a Master of International Affairs. After all, they were the first Ivy League to do so and five years later, she had a Bachelor’s degree in Business, and a Master of International Affairs to let her work and travel at the same time. It was the only way to satiate her necessity to have more since that was what she crave. Only, it was when she decided to vacation in California when she was back in the states did Celina find her true ticket into her future, and it wasn’t at Disneyland, nor Tomorrowland.

-- It was actually at Disneyland, the opening of the park, where Celina met the person she would soon call her maker – and no longer a person. He had the same heart she did, one that beat for life itself. The year was 1955, and to live a rock ‘n roll life was the thing to do. It took being at the park all day with her to know that, and when he asked her if she wanted to live forever to have days such as the one they were experiencing until the end of time, it was almost as quick as the flying elephants that were going in circles before them. What Celina laughs about today is that she was one of the creators of the “27 Club” seeing as she is forever twenty-seven, but not once has she regretted it. Sure, there were now cravings for blood alongside her lust for experiences, but she learned with time, she would learn to manage it. To her surprise, however, when she told her parents, they reacted in a way that wasn’t like her own. There wasn’t excitement, nor was there grief; in a way, there was only understanding. It was then they told her how they got through the Depression, and that was supplying. Not drugs, but certain things for people that had powers more than a regular human, a supernatural she came to learn. All of it made sense, and of course, all she could do was laugh at the irony that her life had come full circle. She born again with what had helped her live when she was born the first time around.

-- There is no secret that Celina is loud, solely because she doesn’t find a necessity to hide her existence. Why should anyone? Beings are made to be exuberant, not to cloak themselves in the shadows. It explains why when the supernatural were announced, she ran outside onto her balcony and sprayed her finest champagne down on the people below. A bit extravagant, yes, but it was finally time for the world to see how great of a species had always been about. What came as a surprise to Cellina was the immediate rejection the humans gave. Internationally, it wasn’t as bad as it had been in the city, and it wasn’t long before some connections she had from before were requesting a service that only she could give, seeing as she was a supernatural amongst the rest. Giving away any form of threat, be it in a group or as an individual, and she would receive a substantial amount that would never leave her hungry for anything else. Yes, her income is dwindling since people don’t want to be tied to a vampire anymore, but she couldn’t do that to her people. Luckily, the small job she has – one her parents had before her – has led her to a hive of supernaturals, some forming a little group to go against whatever the humans are trying. Celina loves the people she’s surrounded her with, and betraying them is the last thing she wants to do. But, what happens with the income runs out? What is life then?

Connections /

TRISTON FITZ ; The man that's easy on the eyes but hard on the tongue, to this day, Celina hasn't been able to make Triston Fitz smile or show any type of amusement her way. There was another employee, one she sees him with every so often that she has gotten to, but not Triston. It's her job to bring him out of the stoic, little shell he's in. Maybe even catch him outside of work if being professional is truly his thing.

MATHIEU LEON ; Celina doesn't like it when people don't like her, and when the owner of her favourite place to be at the moment is giving her that treatment, it only angers her. Mathieu Leon may run the best wine club – and more importantly, blood bank – that is in New York City, but that doesn't give him the right to ignore one of its greatest customers. If he weren't so quick to go into his office when she was there, maybe she can have a word with him. In the meantime, the rest of the staff is great. They have to be weak somewhere.

KONRAD SCHNEIDER ; The epitome of don't ask, don't tell, all Celina has for Konrad Schneider is appraisal. Just like how she prefers to have no one ask where her supplies are coming in from for Nature's Botanicals, the same thing obviously applies with the older vampire when he makes his rounds to Merlot. Maybe he's getting them from Hawaii and Russia as she does, but whatever the case may be, next time he's in Merlot at the same time as she is, she will extend her hand of gratitude, maybe even discuss a business proposition that can happened between the two.

SILVIA REYES ; The most recent friendship she has made, and one that she quite enjoys, Celina was happy to be waited on by Silvia Reyes when she went into Merlot the first time around. Like so many there, Silvia had sad eyes. There wasn't a timid nature, nor anything to give away what kind of life she had or her age, but it was immediate that Celina wanted to scoop her up and whisk her away into the great beyond to give her a life she obviously didn't have. Finding out that they're a little more than ten years apart is exciting because they experienced the same events together. What she doesn't know is why Silvia still keeps what happened to her during those years, and though she won't pressure, Celina has made it her goal to figure it out sooner rather than later.

LEWIS KAUFFMAN ; Just as she had noticed with Silvia, and something that was downright morbid especially coming from vampires, is that the staff at Merlot didn't smile. It was such a sad thing to see Lewis Kauffman behind the bar, serving such exceptional individuals and not have a smile on his face. To this day, the moment she made him laugh was a huge feat in recent times because she's met some vampires that don't have her views on things. To make Lewis laugh is like giving him the seed to be reborn as a new person, not just a vampire changing his ways. If she can do it again, which Celina knows she can, she will make him laugh. Even harder if her joke is said right.

CAMERON WESTFALL ; Her best friend of over five years, Celina would have never guessed that a werewolf would hold the title of someone she prefers to spend her days with. It's not like she descriminates against another because of their species or skin tone, far from it. Only that vampires and werewolves normally don't get along. They butt heads every so often, even acquiring attention that might not be so good if they said a certain phrase that triggered the humans, but it doesn't matter because Celina knows that Cameron is exactly as she is. Proud of what and who she is and the whole world should know. The only thing she wishes is that she would stop harping at her boyfriend about which pack he's in and just start one with him, ultimate power couple there.

JARRED TRUELL ; It's always such an odd occurence to work for someone nearly seventy years younger than you are, but Celina has to appreciate Jarred Truell and the way he runs the shop. At least to her, she prefers Jarred over the other manager, a name she always seems to forget, but whatever it is, Jarred is the one that pays her at the end of the day and doesn't ask questions. No complaints for a person who does their job right. It's what makes her torn because his establishment is a great one, and what he does for the supernatural is memorable. How could she tattle on that?

CELINA AMARI IS CURRENTLY OPEN

[nolimitsongrace]

August 26: Ministering Spirits

Ministering SpiritsAugust 26, 2020

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? — Hebrews 1:14

October 3, 1993. It was our wedding anniversary, and Denise and I were in Murmansk, Russia, located just north of the Arctic Circle. We had been ministering there in one of the largest churches in Russia at the time. After several days of wonderful meetings, we concluded the last evening service and returned to the apartment where we were staying. Our plan was to begin preparing for our trip home early the next morning. As we packed, we decided to turn on the television to see the late-night news.

We sat nearly frozen in disbelief as we learned that there had been a major coup in the city of Moscow! The image of the Russian Vice President appeared on the TV screen before us. Looking disheveled, this man morbidly glared into the TV camera and stated that a coup had begun in Moscow and that Russia’s newly gained democracy was about to be lost. We were stunned when we heard him “beckon” people to go into the streets to fight using whatever they could find from their homes as weapons to oppose the pro-Communist faction — especially in the area near Red Square — that was trying to seize control.

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

While we had been busy ministering in Murmansk, a major conflict had erupted in Moscow. There was a clash between then President Boris Yeltsin and a pro-Communist political faction that had violently seized control of the Russian White House and had barricaded themselves inside it, refusing to come out.

The Russian White House is situated in front of the massive Novoarbatsky Bridge along the banks of the Moscow River. I found it so interesting that the entire day while we had been busy with church activities in another city, Boris Yeltsin had been busy ordering army tanks to line up on that bridge, point their cannons directly at the Russian White House, and shoot to drive those occupants out of the building! By the end of the day, those tanks had blown the top half of the structure nearly completely off. Although democratic forces shelled the White House with one bomb after another, the rebels refused to surrender their position.

It was late at night, and Denise and I sat in front of the TV dumbfounded and perplexed about what we should do. The mayhem in Moscow was spreading to other locations, and we didn’t know what Moscow airports would be like the following morning. Moscow was our only connection to Riga, Latvia, where we lived at the time. We didn’t know if flights would be canceled — or even if there would be potential attacks at the airport. And God only knew what might develop in the nighttime as we slept!

We arose early the following morning, took a car to the airport, and went inside to see if we could make our flight to Moscow en route to Riga. When the time came for passengers to board the plane, Denise and I were the only two passengers they allowed to embark. Everyone else with tickets for that flight was denied access to the plane!

The airline attendants seated us in First Class on the very front row of the plane. Denise and I were somewhat amused and discussed quietly that it looked like we had the whole plane to ourselves. That’s exactly what we thought as that large Russian aircraft took off from that runway and began to ascend — that we were the only two passengers aboard the flight.

To this day, we still don’t know why we were the only two passengers allowed to board that flight, but that is exactly what happened. We speculated that perhaps the person in charge knew us from our nationwide television program — or that we had received special treatment because of our American passports. All we could do was guess. But for the duration of that flight from Murmansk to Moscow, Denise and I sat alone on what looked to be an empty aircraft, musing over our strange situation.

That entire, very large commercial airliner was completely empty — except for us and the flight crew! At least that’s what we thought until it was time to disembark. When we arose from our seats to leave, the flight attendant abruptly pulled back the curtain that concealed the whole back half of the airplane. To our utter amazement and shock, there stood in front of us 85 Black Berets, Russia’s highest-trained land-combat soldiers!

What a scene that was! It looked like 85 “Rambos” standing there, with machine guns hanging off their shoulders, handguns strapped to their waists, strips of hundreds of rounds of ammo draped around their necks, giant knives fastened to their boots — and their faces completely smeared with greasy black “war paint”!

Denise and I stood there, nearly paralyzed, for what seemed like minutes. As much speculating as we had entertained about why we were alone on that flight, the thought never crossed our minds that we were not alone — and that we had flown all that distance to Moscow with 85 trained killers!

Sitting in the car that transported us from the plane to our terminal, we watched spellbound as those soldiers quickly disembarked that plane in unison and boarded jumbo helicopters that we later learned were assigned to fly them to the Russian White House. By the time we entered the terminal and made our way through passport control, we saw on TV monitors those same 85 soldiers being lowered by ropes onto what was left of the roof of the White House!

We later discovered that those killer troops were ordered to retake the Russian White House, arresting rebels who surrendered and shooting those who didn’t. By the end of that standoff, 124 rebel soldiers had been killed and 348 had been wounded by those Black Beret soldiers — soldiers with whom Denise and I had unknowingly flown on a plane!

At times in life, we’ve likely all been oblivious to what’s happening around us. Had Denise and I known we were flying with 85 trained killers that day, we would have experienced some apprehension about getting on that flight. But we thought we were the only two people on board. We actually enjoyed the experience, laughing and talking during the entire flight to Moscow. We only realized 85 “Rambos” were riding with us when it was time to disembark. By that time, it was too late to worry because we had already arrived safely at the airport in Moscow!

As Denise and I watched the monitors from inside the airport terminal and saw those soldiers being lowered into the remains of the White House, we hardly spoke a word. We were stunned that we had been that close to those armed and trained killers and yet completely unaware of it. As we awaited our next flight, we each sat quietly, pondering the events that had just taken place. It wasn’t until we were securely on board our flight to Riga that we finally began to talk again. Excitedly, we began talking about the situations we all find ourselves in at times, that we don’t fully comprehend until later. And we particularly talked about the ministry of angels — that just as those Russian killer soldiers had been dispatched to restore order and peace, God sends His angels on “covert missions” to oversee and protect us in times of danger and uncertainty.

Hebrews 1:14 says, “Are they not all [angels] ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” You and I are the heirs of salvation, so this means that angels are sent forth to minister to you and me. But what exactly does the phrase “sent forth to minister for them” mean?

Notice the verse includes the word “minister” in some form twice. It says, “Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” In both cases, the words “ministering” and “minister” are a translation of the Greek word diakonos, which depicts high-level, top-notch service of various kinds. As we look at the ministry of angels in the New Testament, we find that angels provided especially high-level, top-notch service to the saints when they experienced various types of need.

The following is a condensed list of activities that angels perform. Please keep in mind that this Sparkling Gem is about God’s care over us when we are oblivious to things that are happening around us. In such moments, angels step in to provide certain kinds of high-level, top-notch service for us — including the list of angelic assignments that follow in this teaching. Of course, angels also have other roles, but for the purposes of this discussion, we will focus on the role of angels to minister to believers — heirs of salvation.

Angels Meet Physical Needs

Matthew 4:11 and Mark 1:13 tell us that when Jesus concluded His 40-day fast in the wilderness, angels appeared to Him and ministered to Him, thereby meeting Jesus’ physical needs after that 40 days of fasting and being tempted by the devil. In both of these verses, the word “ministered” is a translation of the Greek word diakonos. Wherever this word is used in the New Testament, it pictures a servant whose chief occupation is to meet some kind of physical or tangible need.

Angels Give Strength

The Bible provides many examples of angels strengthening the weary, but the best New Testament example is found in Luke 22:43, where an angel strengthened Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane during the most difficult time of His earthly life. It says, “And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.” This word comes from the Greek word enischuo, a compound of the words en and ischuos. The word en means in, and the word ischuos is the Greek word for might or strength. When these two words are compounded, the new word means to impart strength; to empower someone; to fill a person with physical vigor; or to give someone renewed vitality. In other words, a person may have been feeling exhausted and depleted, but suddenly he receives a robust blast of energy that instantly recharges him.

This means that when Jesus’ disciples and friends couldn’t be depended on in His hour of need, God provided an angel who empowered, recharged, and imparted strength to Jesus, thus renewing His vitality so He could victoriously face the most difficult hour of His life. Thus, Luke 22:43 provides a vivid New Testament example of how angels strengthen the weary.

Angels Can Give Supernatural Guidance

Examples of how angels provide supernatural guidance are abundant in the New Testament. Matthew 2:13 says an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him to quickly take Mary and the young Christ Child into Egypt because Herod would seek to kill Jesus. Later when Herod died, an angel appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, informing him that Herod was dead and that he and his family could return to Israel (Matthew 2:19-23). In both of those instances, the supernatural angelic guidance occurred in dreams.

In Act 10:3, we find an example of angelic guidance that also changed the course of history. An angel appeared in a vision to an Italian centurion named Cornelius who lived in Caesarea.

Although Cornelius was unsaved at that moment, God heard this man’s prayers and intervened on his behalf by providing angelic guidance. The angel who appeared to Cornelius instructed him to send his servants to Joppa to summon Peter and his companions to come to him. When Peter arrived at Cornelius’ residence, the apostle preached the Gospel to those who were present. All who heard Peter repented and were filled with the Holy Spirit. At that historic moment, the door to salvation was opened to the Gentiles, and the Gospel message began to go forth into the Gentile world.

Angels Provide Protection and Deliverance

The Old and New Testaments are filled with evidence that God assigns angels to guard and protect His people. For instance, Psalm 34:7 says that angels encamp around those who fear the Lord to deliver them. Psalm 91:11 promises that God will give His angels charge over His people to keep them in all their ways. We see a New Testament example of how angels guard and protect God’s people in Acts 5:17-20. In this account, the high priest rose up against the apostles and had them arrested and thrown into prison. Verses 19 and 20 say, “But the angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them forth, and said, Go, stand and speak in the temple to the people all the words of this life.”

A few chapters later in Acts 12, we find the story of Peter being arrested and thrown into prison. After Herod ordered the beheading of James (see Acts 12:1,2), he saw that many Jews approved of his action. Therefore, in order to garner more support and popularity with the angry mob of Christian-haters, Herod gave the order for the apostle Peter to be arrested next. The authorities may have recalled the previous time when a group of apostles miraculously escaped from prison because this time Peter was delivered to “four quaternions of soldiers” (Acts 12:4).

A “quaternion” refers to a group of four Roman soldiers. So four quaternions — or four different groups containing four soldiers each — successively took turns guarding Peter throughout the night. Verse 6 tells us that Peter was sleeping between two guards in that prison while two other guards stood watch at the prison door. Suddenly the angel of the Lord came into the prison cell and awoke Peter from his sleep, telling him to rise up quickly and leave the prison. Instantly, the chains that held Peter were loosened and fell to the ground.

Not only did the angel of the Lord set Peter free from the chains that held him, but it seems the angel also temporarily blinded the guards so they were unaware of what was happening. Peter followed the angel through the first and second ward until he came to an iron gate, which supernaturally opened in front of him without anyone touching it. An angel delivered the apostle from the horrible destiny that had awaited him at the hands of Herod.

Angels Perform Superhuman Feats

Perhaps the best New Testament example of angels performing superhuman feats is when the angels rolled away the massive stone that lay before Jesus’ garden tomb. Matthew 28:2 says, “…the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.” The word “stone” is the Greek word lithos, which simply means a stone. It is known, however, that the stones placed in front of such tombs were immense in their dimensions — impossible for a human being to move without the assistance of several people.

Another remarkable example of an angel’s superhuman strength is recorded in Revelation 20:1-3, where John writes: “And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, And set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season.”

At the appointed time, an unnamed angel will seize Satan, bind him with a great chain, shut him in the bottomless pit, and seal it so he can’t escape. No natural human being would ever be able to perform such a feat, but this passage of Scripture clearly states that a day is coming when an angel will single-handedly accomplish this task — scriptural proof of the great power heavenly angels possess.

And to think — such “ministering spirits” are dispatched to “minister” to those who will inherit salvation. That’s you and me! God has specifically sent angels forth to meet our physical needs, to give us strength, to supernaturally guide us at times, to provide us with protection and deliverance, and to perform superhuman feats on our behalf.

Flying from Murmansk to Moscow with 85 hidden trained killers — while Denise and I were completely oblivious to that fact — reminds me that wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, we have a group of “ministering spirits” that are assigned to watch over us and care for us. In fact, looking back on that incident, I realize that a “special-forces unit” of angels is always assigned to Denise and me! And these trained spiritual combatants pose a far more formidable threat to unseen devilish forces than the threat those 85 trained soldiers posed to rebels occupying the Russian White House that day!

If you look back over your own life, I’m sure it won’t be difficult to recall moments when you experienced angelic assistance to help you overcome in the midst of what you were enduring. You may not have seen those ministering spirits with your physical eyes or even felt their presence, but it is certain they were there, for that is God’s promise to you and to me in Hebrews 1:14!

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Father, I want to thank You for the many times You have given Your angels charge of me to protect, provide for, and guide me when I was confronted with difficulties or was completely unaware of the situations I had unknowingly wandered into or of the danger that surrounded me. I am reminded of how Your ministering spirits have met my needs; brought me help; strengthened me when I was exhausted both physically and emotionally; and kept me safe in the midst of circumstances that could have produced certain harm or even taken my life. Time after time, You’ve held me safe through the watchful care of Your ministering angels. Lord, I love You. You have shown me great mercy, and each day I find new reasons to praise and glorify You as a faithful Keeper of covenant in my life.

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I confess that time after time, in ways I seldom realize, God dispatches angels to assist me. These ministering spirits surround me and keep me safe, and they never fail to step in to deliver me even when I don’t know that I am in harm’s way. Whatever my situation, and regardless of the need, angels are assigned to protect, provide, strengthen, and guide me in all my ways of obedience to the Lord.

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Have you ever been in a situation in which you were oblivious to what was happening around you, but you later discovered that God had dispatched an angel or angels to protect you in some way?

Can you recall a specific experience of God’s miraculous, delivering power in your life? When was it, and what happened? How did you respond?

When you consider that experience, what does it reveal to you about the tenderness of God to watch over you and protect you? Have you ever told anyone about that moment of divine protection?

[nolimitsongrace]

August 26: Ministering Spirits

Ministering SpiritsAugust 26, 2019

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? — Hebrews 1:14

October 3, 1993. It was our wedding anniversary, and Denise and I were in Murmansk, Russia, located just north of the Arctic Circle. We had been ministering there in one of the largest churches in Russia at the time. After several days of wonderful meetings, we concluded the last evening service and returned to the apartment where we were staying. Our plan was to begin preparing for our trip home early the next morning. As we packed, we decided to turn on the television to see the late-night news.

We sat nearly frozen in disbelief as we learned that there had been a major coup in the city of Moscow! The image of the Russian Vice President appeared on the TV screen before us. Looking disheveled, this man morbidly glared into the TV camera and stated that a coup had begun in Moscow and that Russia’s newly gained democracy was about to be lost. We were stunned when we heard him “beckon” people to go into the streets to fight using whatever they could find from their homes as weapons to oppose the pro-Communist faction — especially in the area near Red Square — that was trying to seize control.

While we had been busy ministering in Murmansk, a major conflict had erupted in Moscow. There was a clash between then President Boris Yeltsin and a pro-Communist political faction that had violently seized control of the Russian White House and had barricaded themselves inside it, refusing to come out.

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

The Russian White House is situated in front of the massive Novoarbatsky Bridge along the banks of the Moscow River. I found it so interesting that the entire day while we had been busy with church activities in another city, Boris Yeltsin had been busy ordering army tanks to line up on that bridge, point their cannons directly at the Russian White House, and shoot to drive those occupants out of the building! By the end of the day, those tanks had blown the top half of the structure nearly completely off. Although democratic forces shelled the White House with one bomb after another, the rebels refused to surrender their position.

It was late at night, and Denise and I sat in front of the TV dumbfounded and perplexed about what we should do. The mayhem in Moscow was spreading to other locations, and we didn’t know what Moscow airports would be like the following morning. Moscow was our only connection to Riga, Latvia, where we lived at the time. We didn’t know if flights would be canceled — or even if there would be potential attacks at the airport. And God only knew what might develop in the nighttime as we slept!

We arose early the following morning, took a car to the airport, and went inside to see if we could make our flight to Moscow en route to Riga. When the time came for passengers to board the plane, Denise and I were the only two passengers they allowed to embark. Everyone else with tickets for that flight was denied access to the plane!

The airline attendants seated us in First Class on the very front row of the plane. Denise and I were somewhat amused and discussed quietly that it looked like we had the whole plane to ourselves. That’s exactly what we thought as that large Russian aircraft took off from that runway and began to ascend — that we were the only two passengers aboard the flight.

To this day, we still don’t know why we were the only two passengers allowed to board that flight, but that is exactly what happened. We speculated that perhaps the person in charge knew us from our nationwide television program — or that we had received special treatment because of our American passports. All we could do was guess. But for the duration of that flight from Murmansk to Moscow, Denise and I sat alone on what looked to be an empty aircraft, musing over our strange situation.

That entire, very large commercial airliner was completely empty — except for us and the flight crew! At least that’s what we thought until it was time to disembark. When we arose from our seats to leave, the flight attendant abruptly pulled back the curtain that concealed the whole back half of the airplane. To our utter amazement and shock, there stood in front of us 85 Black Berets, Russia’s highest-trained land-combat soldiers!

What a scene that was! It looked like 85 “Rambos” standing there, with machine guns hanging off their shoulders, handguns strapped to their waists, strips of hundreds of rounds of ammo draped around their necks, giant knives fastened to their boots — and their faces completely smeared with greasy black “war paint”!

Denise and I stood there, nearly paralyzed, for what seemed like minutes. As much speculating as we had entertained about why we were alone on that flight, the thought never crossed our minds that we were not alone — and that we had flown all that distance to Moscow with 85 trained killers!

Sitting in the car that transported us from the plane to our terminal, we watched spellbound as those soldiers quickly disembarked that plane in unison and boarded jumbo helicopters that we later learned were assigned to fly them to the Russian White House. By the time we entered the terminal and made our way through passport control, we saw on TV monitors those same 85 soldiers being lowered by ropes onto what was left of the roof of the White House!

We later discovered that those killer troops were ordered to retake the Russian White House, arresting rebels who surrendered and shooting those who didn’t. By the end of that standoff, 124 rebel soldiers had been killed and 348 had been wounded by those Black Beret soldiers — soldiers with whom Denise and I had unknowingly flown on a plane!

At times in life, we’ve likely all been oblivious to what’s happening around us. Had Denise and I known we were flying with 85 trained killers that day, we would have experienced some apprehension about getting on that flight. But we thought we were the only two people on board. We actually enjoyed the experience, laughing and talking during the entire flight to Moscow. We only realized 85 “Rambos” were riding with us when it was time to disembark. By that time, it was too late to worry because we had already arrived safely at the airport in Moscow!

As Denise and I watched the monitors from inside the airport terminal and saw those soldiers being lowered into the remains of the White House, we hardly spoke a word. We were stunned that we had been that close to those armed and trained killers and yet completely unaware of it. As we awaited our next flight, we each sat quietly, pondering the events that had just taken place. It wasn’t until we were securely on board our flight to Riga that we finally began to talk again. Excitedly, we began talking about the situations we all find ourselves in at times, that we don’t fully comprehend until later. And we particularly talked about the ministry of angels — that just as those Russian killer soldiers had been dispatched to restore order and peace, God sends His angels on “covert missions” to oversee and protect us in times of danger and uncertainty.

Hebrews 1:14 says, “Are they not all [angels] ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” You and I are the heirs of salvation, so this means that angels are sent forth to minister to you and me. But what exactly does the phrase “sent forth to minister for them” mean?

Notice the verse includes the word “minister” in some form twice. It says, “Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” In both cases, the words “ministering” and “minister” are a translation of the Greek word diakonos, which depicts high-level, top-notch service of various kinds. As we look at the ministry of angels in the New Testament, we find that angels provided especially high-level, top-notch service to the saints when they experienced various types of need.

The following is a condensed list of activities that angels perform. Please keep in mind that this Sparkling Gem is about God’s care over us when we are oblivious to things that are happening around us. In such moments, angels step in to provide certain kinds of high-level, top-notch service for us — including the list of angelic assignments that follow in this teaching. Of course, angels also have other roles, but for the purposes of this discussion, we will focus on the role of angels to minister to believers — heirs of salvation.

Angels Meet Physical Needs

Matthew 4:11 and Mark 1:13 tell us that when Jesus concluded His 40-day fast in the wilderness, angels appeared to Him and ministered to Him, thereby meeting Jesus’ physical needs after that 40 days of fasting and being tempted by the devil. In both of these verses, the word “ministered” is a translation of the Greek word diakonos. Wherever this word is used in the New Testament, it pictures a servant whose chief occupation is to meet some kind of physical or tangible need.

Angels Give Strength

The Bible provides many examples of angels strengthening the weary, but the best New Testament example is found in Luke 22:43, where an angel strengthened Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane during the most difficult time of His earthly life. It says, “And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.” This word comes from the Greek word enischuo, a compound of the words en and ischuos. The word en means in, and the word ischuos is the Greek word for might or strength. When these two words are compounded, the new word means to impart strength; to empower someone; to fill a person with physical vigor; or to give someone renewed vitality. In other words, a person may have been feeling exhausted and depleted, but suddenly he receives a robust blast of energy that instantly recharges him.

This means that when Jesus’ disciples and friends couldn’t be depended on in His hour of need, God provided an angel who empowered, recharged, and imparted strength to Jesus, thus renewing His vitality so He could victoriously face the most difficult hour of His life. Thus, Luke 22:43 provides a vivid New Testament example of how angels strengthen the weary.

Angels Can Give Supernatural Guidance

Examples of how angels provide supernatural guidance are abundant in the New Testament. Matthew 2:13 says an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him to quickly take Mary and the young Christ Child into Egypt because Herod would seek to kill Jesus. Later when Herod died, an angel appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, informing him that Herod was dead and that he and his family could return to Israel (Matthew 2:19-23). In both of those instances, the supernatural angelic guidance occurred in dreams.

In Act 10:3, we find an example of angelic guidance that also changed the course of history. An angel appeared in a vision to an Italian centurion named Cornelius who lived in Caesarea.

Although Cornelius was unsaved at that moment, God heard this man’s prayers and intervened on his behalf by providing angelic guidance. The angel who appeared to Cornelius instructed him to send his servants to Joppa to summon Peter and his companions to come to him. When Peter arrived at Cornelius’ residence, the apostle preached the Gospel to those who were present. All who heard Peter repented and were filled with the Holy Spirit. At that historic moment, the door to salvation was opened to the Gentiles, and the Gospel message began to go forth into the Gentile world.

Angels Provide Protection and Deliverance

The Old and New Testaments are filled with evidence that God assigns angels to guard and protect His people. For instance, Psalm 34:7 says that angels encamp around those who fear the Lord to deliver them. Psalm 91:11 promises that God will give His angels charge over His people to keep them in all their ways. We see a New Testament example of how angels guard and protect God’s people in Acts 5:17-20. In this account, the high priest rose up against the apostles and had them arrested and thrown into prison. Verses 19 and 20 say, “But the angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them forth, and said, Go, stand and speak in the temple to the people all the words of this life.”

A few chapters later in Acts 12, we find the story of Peter being arrested and thrown into prison. After Herod ordered the beheading of James (see Acts 12:1,2), he saw that many Jews approved of his action. Therefore, in order to garner more support and popularity with the angry mob of Christian-haters, Herod gave the order for the apostle Peter to be arrested next. The authorities may have recalled the previous time when a group of apostles miraculously escaped from prison because this time Peter was delivered to “four quaternions of soldiers” (Acts 12:4).

A “quaternion” refers to a group of four Roman soldiers. So four quaternions — or four different groups containing four soldiers each — successively took turns guarding Peter throughout the night. Verse 6 tells us that Peter was sleeping between two guards in that prison while two other guards stood watch at the prison door. Suddenly the angel of the Lord came into the prison cell and awoke Peter from his sleep, telling him to rise up quickly and leave the prison. Instantly, the chains that held Peter were loosened and fell to the ground.

Not only did the angel of the Lord set Peter free from the chains that held him, but it seems the angel also temporarily blinded the guards so they were unaware of what was happening. Peter followed the angel through the first and second ward until he came to an iron gate, which supernaturally opened in front of him without anyone touching it. An angel delivered the apostle from the horrible destiny that had awaited him at the hands of Herod.

Angels Perform Superhuman Feats

Perhaps the best New Testament example of angels performing superhuman feats is when the angels rolled away the massive stone that lay before Jesus’ garden tomb. Matthew 28:2 says, “…the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.” The word “stone” is the Greek word lithos, which simply means a stone. It is known, however, that the stones placed in front of such tombs were immense in their dimensions — impossible for a human being to move without the assistance of several people.

Another remarkable example of an angel’s superhuman strength is recorded in Revelation 20:1-3, where John writes: “And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, And set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season.”

At the appointed time, an unnamed angel will seize Satan, bind him with a great chain, shut him in the bottomless pit, and seal it so he can’t escape. No natural human being would ever be able to perform such a feat, but this passage of Scripture clearly states that a day is coming when an angel will single-handedly accomplish this task — scriptural proof of the great power heavenly angels possess.

And to think — such “ministering spirits” are dispatched to “minister” to those who will inherit salvation. That’s you and me! God has specifically sent angels forth to meet our physical needs, to give us strength, to supernaturally guide us at times, to provide us with protection and deliverance, and to perform superhuman feats on our behalf.

Flying from Murmansk to Moscow with 85 hidden trained killers — while Denise and I were completely oblivious to that fact — reminds me that wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, we have a group of “ministering spirits” that are assigned to watch over us and care for us. In fact, looking back on that incident, I realize that a “special-forces unit” of angels is always assigned to Denise and me! And these trained spiritual combatants pose a far more formidable threat to unseen devilish forces than the threat those 85 trained soldiers posed to rebels occupying the Russian White House that day!

If you look back over your own life, I’m sure it won’t be difficult to recall moments when you experienced angelic assistance to help you overcome in the midst of what you were enduring. You may not have seen those ministering spirits with your physical eyes or even felt their presence, but it is certain they were there, for that is God’s promise to you and to me in Hebrews 1:14!

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Father, I want to thank You for the many times You have given Your angels charge of me to protect, provide for, and guide me when I was confronted with difficulties or was completely unaware of the situations I had unknowingly wandered into or of the danger that surrounded me. I am reminded of how Your ministering spirits have met my needs; brought me help; strengthened me when I was exhausted both physically and emotionally; and kept me safe in the midst of circumstances that could have produced certain harm or even taken my life. Time after time, You’ve held me safe through the watchful care of Your ministering angels. Lord, I love You. You have shown me great mercy, and each day I find new reasons to praise and glorify You as a faithful Keeper of covenant in my life.

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I confess that time after time, in ways I seldom realize, God dispatches angels to assist me. These ministering spirits surround me and keep me safe, and they never fail to step in to deliver me even when I don’t know that I am in harm’s way. Whatever my situation, and regardless of the need, angels are assigned to protect, provide, strengthen, and guide me in all my ways of obedience to the Lord.

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Have you ever been in a situation in which you were oblivious to what was happening around you, but you later discovered that God had dispatched an angel or angels to protect you in some way?

Can you recall a specific experience of God’s miraculous, delivering power in your life? When was it, and what happened? How did you respond?

When you consider that experience, what does it reveal to you about the tenderness of God to watch over you and protect you? Have you ever told anyone about that moment of divine protection?