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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months ago

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Dumb Ways to Die Snippet

I've been working on this in my free time when no other Au or fic feels like functioning. It is goofy and will turn serious later. For now though, enjoy a tired Reaper Ratchet as he is forced to deal with one very clumsy Orion Pax.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Reaper.” The Primes sat upon their lofty thrones, their gazes chilly and without emotion. Ratchet knelt before them, his helm bowed respectfully. He abhorred having to lower himself, but there was no denying the superiority of the creatures that watched him with optics so alien that it was hard to believe they were once living beings at all.

“Primus’s chosen has been forged in the living realm. He cannot be allowed to perish until his duty is complete.” Ratchet sighed as the unspoken order registered. This was one of his duties, regardless of whether or not he liked it. As a Reaper, he was not only to collect the dead and guide them home, but he was also obliged to watch over specific sparks that had divine plans that involved them.

He hadn’t actually had to deal with such a thing before. A few other Reapers had been assigned to mecha of importance, but Ratchet was new. He had only joined the ranks of the Reapers shortly after the Quintessons were driven from Cybertron’s surface. A bitter part of his mind reminded him that the reason he was probably receiving this assignment was because of his ranking amongst the Reapers. The pricks higher up on the chain had most likely seen fit to throw the work on him so they didn’t have to bother watching out for a fragile mortal for millennia on end.

Those slaggers.

“You will watch over him and ensure his continued functioning until you are recalled.” One Prime spoke. Ratchet didn’t dare look up to see who. It was not his place.

“You are permitted to restore him regardless of his injuries so long as there is a rational reason that the order may use to make the repairs real.” Another’s voice rang out, powerful and commanding. If Ratchet were still living, he was sure his plating would be flaring in instinctual fear. At that moment, he was more than thankful for his lack of physical frame as he nodded in understanding.

“Watch over him, Reaper. He is a kind spark.” A firm but definitely feminine voice echoed. He knew her voice. She was the one who chose new Reapers to add to the order. She was the one who stood beside his dying frame and soothed him, promising him a chance to continue living in another form.

“I trust that you out of all our Reapers will tend to him faithfully.” He risked looking up so that he could see Solus Prime smile. Viewing the trust in her expression had all the anger in his spark dissipating like smoke. If it was her order that had him in his new station, then he could accept it. Surely the one she had chosen him to watch over couldn’t be too difficult to keep alive, right?

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“This is the third time this stellar cycle, mortal.” Ratchet wanted to bang his helm against a wall as he greeted his target yet again. Orion Pax was, once more, dying of a shattered spine after falling down the stairs in the Archives.

“I apologize, Reaper. I promise I did in fact watch where my pedes were going this time. But unfortunately-”

“You lost hold of your datapad and scrambled to grab it, leading to your tumble of doom.” Ratchet finished for him. Orion shuffled in the void, his expression the embodiment of embarrassment. This was not the first time they met, nor would it be the last at this rate.

Ratchet hadn’t been assigned to the Archivist for a full vorn yet, and Orion had somehow managed to die in over twenty ways in less than twelve deca-cycles. It was honestly quite spectacular. How he managed to last so long prior to Ratchet’s arrival was a complete and total mystery to him at this point.

“Forgive me. I shall do my best to improve and pay closer attention to my surroundings.” Orion bowed his helm slightly, his wispy form shifting as Ratchet rubbed the soft metal beneath his optics and prepared to do what he always did.

“I’ve heard that enough times already. Don’t bother making a promise you can’t keep.” Sighing, Ratchet stepped forward and grasped at Orion’s spark. His ghostly form disappeared in an instant, and Ratchet exercised what control he had to build himself an avatar. It was as easy as venting for him, in large part due to the frequency of which he was forced to revive his target, but also due to his relative youth amongst the Reapers. He remembered what it was like to live, and that made entering the living realm easier.

“Slag, you really messed yourself up.” Looking down, Ratchet almost wanted to gag. He had been a medic prior to his death. He’d seen more than enough corpses to be largely unphased. And yet somehow, Orion Pax always managed to kill himself in both the most ridiculous and unsettling ways possible.

“Let’s get this over with.” Wishing he could be anywhere else, Ratchet knelt before the shattered corpse of Orion Pax and slowly eased the Archivist’s spark back into his frame. Mangled limbs straightened with painful sounding cracks, shattered spinal struts clicked into place while popping like bubble wrap. Before long, the Archivist gasped and coughed as his systems came back online. He lived again.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #pre war cybertron #ratchet #orion pax #reaper au #alternate universe #the thirteen primes #ratchet is SO done in this au #Megatron is going to have a ton of fun yeeting Orion into dangerous situations just to see if he will walk it off

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aziraphales-library · 8 months ago

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Thank you so much for all that you do! I've found so many good fics from your recommendations ♥️

Do you know of any that involve Crowley being homeless or otherwise seriously struggling financially? Thank you!

I have read one with this theme, Divine Restorations and Repairs, so I'd love to rec that too! It's fantastic.

We have some fics in which Crowley is struggling financially here. And I've got a few more in which Crowley has problems with money/housing...

Copper and gold by Joseph_Amadeus (M)

Aziraphale doesn't pick up hitchhikers but he can't help himself when he sees Crowley getting steadily wetter in the rain one night.

Be Still My Soul: The Romance by MirjamOmens (E)

It’s the summer of 1917 in the Grand Duchy of Finland. The Great War rages over Europe, and the empire of Russia, of which Finland is still part, has suffered a revolution. For Azirafel Fjäll, a minor landowner and a shop runner, all these things are only mildly annoying inconveniences. His dear friend, Anton J. Crowley, is not as fortunate. The working-class people struggle to make a living in a world where there's a constant shortage of food, fuel and work. Despite their class differences, Azirafel and Anton have been friends since childhood--and both secretly yearn for more. Can their two hearts find each other as their country heads from one crisis to another? Or will the ever widening gap between their worlds keep them apart?

Sharp Objects by ElderlySardine (M)

Back in the mid-nineties, Aziraphale and Crowley had it all. They were friends, lovers, soulmates. Life was hard, but as long as they were together it didn't matter. Then in one catastrophic fight caused by Aziraphale's cruel, coercive brother Gabriel, the whole thing came crashing down. The boys parted company for good. Now it's 2021. Life has spun Crowley and Aziraphale in very different directions before throwing them back together at their lowest ebb. Can they manage to hide their history from their new friends? Can they forgive each other, and themselves? Could there possibly still be something there between them? And with Gabriel still lurking on the horizon, will they be strong enough to do anything about it?

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

Magpie by southdownsraph (E)

Ezra has just been hired as a bartender at an underground LGBT nightclub to help supplement his income while he studies for his master’s, and he can’t help but become infatuated with one of the performers, an exotic dancer who goes by the name AJ.

And the one you mentioned...

Divine Restorations & Repairs by skimmingthesurface, SylWritesStuff (E)

While it's unfortunate for one’s car to break down in the middle of the countryside, the pretty-as-a-postcard Tadfield could hardly be considered the worst place Anthony J. Crowley has ever been. Of course, it doesn’t help that it looks like it hasn’t yet seen the turn of the millennia, let alone this decade, but perhaps that’s just what he needs as he crawls his way out of the Hell he’s endured for the past fifteen years. Maybe the last thirty, if he's honest with himself. Though he could do without the rain. When Aziraphale Fell happens upon him and offers him shelter from the storm in his little family-run antique repair shop, neither are expecting it to change everything. The angel with his white umbrella and his tartan bowtie doesn’t expect this mysterious stranger to be able to fill the timely vacancy in his shop or the quiet of his life, but they’ve both had experience in restoring once-beloved items back to their full glory. Perhaps Crowley hasn’t fallen quite so far that he wouldn’t fit in with the rest of Aziraphale’s ragtag team of eccentric restoration experts. And perhaps they may be able to turn that talent on themselves and each other, and seal the cracks in their own hearts.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #adult omens #financial struggles #mod d

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dorliart · 8 months ago

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Crowley sat atop the stone, staring out where the horizon met the tops of trees, and where the chalk hills rolled beyond them. An unlit cigarette rolled between his fingers, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted it or not.

When he was close enough, Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Hello," he started, throat going tight at the sound of his own voice amidst the quiet fields and trees. "It's me."

"Hi, angel. He looked back at him, noting the plate, and hesitated a moment before he tapped the spot at his right. "Sit for a minute?"

Sometimes there's moments in stories that just stick in your brain because they're so good. This was one of these moments.

From the incredibly lovely Divine Restoration and Repairs ��

by @sylwritesstuff and skimmingthesurface

Also I thought this would lend itself well to being a picture they hung up at some point, writing notes under it and of course, bickering.

Also hi, if you see this skim, yes I referenced your sims build as closely as I possibly could and tried to get all the details I could find. It’s very lovely.

#das my art #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #art #good omens fanart #ineffable partners #fanart #ineffable spouses #also TUMBLR STOP NERFING THE QUALITY I EVEN GSVE YOU JPEGS WHAT DO YOI WANT #good omens art #digital art #good omens au #and also go read the fic it is so fucking good #the only fic this long that I’ve reread actually #and with DELIGHT

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serasfanfiction · 8 months ago

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The magnitude of the deal felt more earth shaking this time around. The beams holding up the tower shrieked in protest, shuddering as their bolts fought to keep from detaching from the side of the hotel. The hotel itself was marginally less effected, only the top two floors rumbling as the shockwave moved through them. By the time the wave of their magic reached the bottom floors and the ground itself, it was hardly noticeable, save the fact one would have to be blind not to have seen the magic itself.

The radio tower's occupants blinked at each other, both simultaneously realizing they probably should have sealed the deal somewhere other than a structure held up by a handful of beams.

Alastor drew his hand away, staring around at the mess they had made of his studio. Anything not bolted down or with a sturdy base had toppled over. The coat rack lay on its side, the blanket that had been thrown over it sprawled out beside it. The lamp and table had both been upended. One of the lamp's eyes was cracked, its light dimmed. The remaining eyes skittered around the room in alarm. Alastor's notes had been scattered across the floor, one of the halves on his staff amongst them. The icing on the cake was two of the windows were severely cracked, with a third having a handful of spider web fractures running through it.

Lucifer took it all in, wincing at the damage. He raised his cane, intent on restoring the room and repairing the integrity of the structure. Only to pause when Alastor placed a hand over his hands to stop him.

"None of that, your Majesty." He released the fallen angel in favor of retrieving the half of the microphone that had fallen to the floor and setting it with its other half. "I'm more than capable of taking care of my things if you would be so kind as to carry out my first favor."

Lucifer suspected Alastor simply didn't want anyone messing with his things any more than they'd already been messed with. He gave him a side eye in response to the possessiveness, shoo'ing the redhead back as he stepped up to the desk.

Alastor took a step back up, but only a single one. He wasn't hovering, per se, but it was apparent he was anxious to see his microphone repaired and returned to him.

Lucifer put him out of his mind, concentrating on the task in front of him. He reached out, fingers coming to lightly rest upon both halves of the staff. This would have been easier had it been an inanimate object, although it was likely Alastor wouldn't have needed to waste a favor if it had been. All angels had an innate ability to heal, some undoubtedly better than others. Lucifer's talents lay more with creation and rebuilding. Healing was similar, sure, but it involved forcing organic cells to divide and multiply far faster than they would have on their own until the wound had knit itself back together.

Then again, if it had been a wholly alive being, like Alastor himself, he would have just given it some of his blood and called it a day. With the new knowledge he'd gained, he was suspicious the deer demon had benefited in more ways than he'd known from those two previous feedings. The staff must have taken the brunt of the damage, if Alastor was still alive, let alone up and moving about. A direct hit would have killed him, for sure.

Lucifer closed his eyes, opening his senses to the very elements that made up the staff. The issue with damage caused by angelic weapons lay with the fact that they were blessed. God himself had created the steal that made up their spears, imbuing it with special powers so that his soldiers could carry out his will with little opposition. Weapons made from angelic grace weren't quite as powerful, as the angels made the weapons, rather than God, but they still weren't anything to sniff at. Weapon's made of angelic grace weren't a certain death threat to other angels, divine beings that they were, but it was certainly a very effective tool against sinners. To take divine will of any kind to something already damned was to ask for things to get very catastrophic very quickly.

Alastor really had no clue how lucky he was to be alive.

What gave them any chance of this working was that the staff knew how it was supposed to fit together. The two broken ends called to each other. Lucifer just had to bridge the gap so they could comb back together and they would be in business. Falling into autopilot as he allowed the process to guide him, he picked up each half. The break hadn't been easy or clean. The two edges no longer fit perfectly together. He had to pull from the blueprint within the staff's genetic makeup to coach the pole into being a smooth column again. From there, he had the equally hard job of convincing the two edges that they could reform again, but once they were certain it was possible, the two edges became magnetized, snapping and mending together until they were a single, solid structure again.

Lucifer snapped his eyes open. Sitting in his hands was the microphone of the infamous Radio Demon, whole and restored to its full glory with not a hint that it had ever been damaged.

Between one blink to the next, the staff vanished. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw it reappear in Alastor's hand. The sinner gave it a twirl, before tapping it to the ground to test its durability. Assured that it was indeed fully restored and could withstand some rough handling, Alastor brought the end to the ground with a hard, sharp crack.

Voodoo symbols lit the air around them with their sinister green glow. Shadows spilled out across the floor like ink, spreading up the walls until the entire room (and likely the entire structure) was engulfed in them. The only light remaining came from the soft glow of Alastor's eyes and teeth.

Lucifer, who needed no light to see, tracked the way Alastor's magic not just coaxed the various misplaced items back into their proper positions, but it also restored them back into their pre-damaged state. By the time the shadows dispersed like smoke and the symbols vanished out with a wink, everything was back to how it had been when they entered with not a single item or sheet of paper out of place. It was as if time itself had reversed itself before his eyes.

Grinning from ear to ear, Alastor tapped the microphone end of his staff. The sound echoed around them as it connected with the equipment, signifying that it was indeed functional again. Outside, the ON AIR sign flicked on for the first time since the extermination. Meeting Lucifer's gaze, expression predatory, Alastor greeted any listener with a radio nearby with: "Greetings and salutations, sinners. Did you miss me?"

He walked the scant distance between where he stood and his work station, deliberately walking around and behind Lucifer. As he passed, he ran a single finger along the fallen angel's back from shoulder to shoulder, merely because he could. "Of course you have," Alastor continued jovially. "Well, never fear, my wicked listeners, as your regularly scheduled broadcasts will begin again soon." Leaning over the controls, he pressed down on a more prominently visible button. What was visible of the ON AIR sign's light winked out as his short broadcast ended as fast as it began.

Seeing him in his element, Lucifer was certain this was the first time he'd ever seen Alastor sincerely happy to any degree. The very air around him seemed to have changed, becoming charged with possibility. It was a stark testament to how diminished he'd been up until that point. Alastor gave the staff a toss from hand to hand, as if refamiliarizing himself with its weight. Satisfied at last, he set it down in front of him, resting his hands upon it. Everything about his body language sang of his satisfaction. "Yes," he purred. "This will do quite nicely."

Lucifer opened his mouth, likely to come up with a witty retort, but never got the chance. It died on his lips as he was cut off by a sharp banging on the window to his left. As one, both turned to see what had made the noise.

Hovering outside, livid with her spear out was Vaggie. And she looked more than ready to break Alastor's windows all over again. She wouldn't have been able to, being on the other side of Lucifer's barrier, but she looked more than happy to try. They could just barely hear her as she shouted, "What the fuck did you do, Alastor?!"

Out of his peripheral view, Lucifer saw Alastor waggle his fingers at her in a wave, completely unconcerned as usual. If he didn't hope that the asshole really would get stabbed one day, Lucifer would have had a little chat about Alastor egging on people who could and would do just that.

Wincing, Lucifer imagined that if Vaggie was here, it was likely Charlie wasn't far behind. It was just as likely the only reason she wasn't outside the window herself was because she couldn't fly. With a wave of his hand, he dropped the barrier around Alastor's domain.

The moment it was dropped, Alastor darted forward. Lulled into a false sense of security by the redhead's previous helplessness, Lucifer didn't react in time to stop Alastor from wrapping a hand around his waist and pulling him in.

Prize acquired, Alastor pulled them both into his shadow.

Lucifer had not paid too much attention to Alastor's shadows, beyond acknowledging they existed and they could be lethal. He had noted how the redhead's personal shadow seemed to have a life of it's own, both working in tangent and separately of Alastor. Lucifer had only seen it twice, but he'd found it to be cheeky and only tolerable because it didn't speak. Unlike the demon who cast it.

Whatever Alastor had plunged them into - whether it be another realm or something else - felt wrong. It felt like being plunged into an ice cold bath, but on a metaphysical level. Darkness to a degree that the simple absence of light couldn't explain surrounded them on all sides. Out of the void came the feeling that they were being watched as they passed through.

Hands he couldn't feel, but still knew were there, curled into Alastor's coat until the fabric threatened to tear. The place screamed unholy. Every instinct in his body reared it's head, telling him that he - a child of God, disowned or not - shouldn't be there. He wanted to light a flame to chase away the darkness, if only he could figure out if he needed to use divine or demonic magic. Above all, he needed to get out. It was only because he wasn't entirely certain he couldn't escape on his own that he didn't actually just portal himself away.

Later, when he was able to think about that place without his mind shying away from it, he'd realize that something about the feeling of it was familiar.

But that would be then, and for now, the whole experience ranked as sheer nightmare fuel. How could Alastor stand it? Was it because he was human and/or a sinner? This place could drive a being insane.

When they reappeared in Alastor's hotel room, it felt like an eternity had passed as opposed to a mere minute or two. Lucifer took a shallow breathe, his whole body shaking like a bird trying to resettle it's feathers.

Oh, that was deeply unpleasant. He never wanted to do that again, ever.

Nonchalant, Alastor took hold of the hand clutching his jacket in a death grip. His smile oozed of false politeness. "Are you alright, your Majesty? You look a little pale."

As if he didn't know that place was messed up. Lucifer was distracted from wiping that smug grin off of the redhead's face by a loud bang against the other side of Alastor's door, the wood around the lock shattering as it finally gave up the ghost of keeping anyone out. The door slammed open, hitting the wall with such force that it ricocheted off of it.

Cherri stood with her foot still poised in the air, giving herself away as the person who had literally kicked the door open. Charlie hovered just behind her, hands in the air as if she had been trying to stop her. Angel stood to her other side, his main arms crossed, while his secondary hands were resting on his hips. "See," he was in the process of saying to Charlie, triumph both audible in his voice and visible on his face. "I told ya we could get the door open without the bombs."

"Yes, well, it would have been better if we didn't damage the door!" Charlie admonished, voice high pitched with stress. She turned her attention to the room itself, tensing as took in the scene in front of them. Lucifer watched her tense, fear twisting her features in a way he hadn't seen since her teenage years. "Dad! Are you alright?" She burst into the room making a beeline for her father.

Lucifer stepped away from Alastor to meet her, putting on an only marginally strained smile. "Of course, sweetie. Everything is fine."

Despite his reassurances, she checked him over for herself. When she was assured he was okay, she turned on Alastor. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to give him a similar inspection, but was holding back. "What did you do?" Her expression was a mixture of concern, anger, and guilt.

Alastor ran his hand down his coat, smoothing the creases out until it was as impeccable as ever. "How suspicious! What makes you think this is my doing?"

"Because it usually is." This was from Vaggie, who had appeared in the doorway while no one was looking. She pushed past Cherri and Angel, who were lingering for the promise of drama and maybe a little bit of curiosity over why the hotel was nearly knocked down for a second time in as many months. She marched straight up to Alastor, and then jabbed a finger into his chest when she was near enough to do so. "First Charlie and now Lucifer?! I knew we should have never let you stay here!"

Lucifer had been content to stand back and let Alastor take the heat. Maybe soil his own image a bit in Charlie's eyes. After all, Lucifer had been willing pay for his help. To make promises he was more than willing to keep, if it was within his power to keep. Alastor was the one who turned it into a binding deal, however predictable the move had been.

Then the implications of what Vaggie said sank in.

He could feel his control over his form slipping as he felt the anger rising. He reached out, almost not wanting to believe that it was true.

But there it was. The green chain of one of Alastor's deals hung from Charlie's wrist, damning evidence of the truth.

Lucifer saw red. His voice was cold despite the fire he could feel burning his tongue. "You made a deal with my daughter?!" The chain creaked as his fist tightened around it. He was going to shatter this little deal, take the remaining shards and shove them down Alastor throat. Then he was going to wrap his hand around his neck and--

"Dad, wait!"

The sight of Charlie suddenly filling his vision felt like being doused in cold water, enough to allow sanity to creep back in and take root again. "Charlie, I told you! You can't take shit from sinners like him." He glanced behind her, still able to see Alastor, posture tense and ears pinned back. His shadow was curled uneasily at his feet, ready to spirit him away at a moment's notice. Lucifer hissed. "They're nothing but parasites feeding off the rest of humanity."

For a brief moment, and only because Charlie had her back to him, Alastor bared his teeth, neither ashamed nor cowed.

Charlie raised her hands to calm him. She paused when one hand didn't raise as far as the other, catching on the chain around her wrist. Wincing at the fact that he was now physically restraining her, Lucifer released it. The chain vanished back into the ether. Freed of the restriction, Charlie lightly placed her hands on his arms, saying, "Dad, it's okay." She smiled to show she really believed it to be so. "He gave us information on how to protect the hotel. I'm happy to do something to help him in return."

Her smile, her trust, had the opposite effect, angering him further. "Charlie..." Lucifer wasn't certain who he was more angry with in that moment: himself for believing that Alastor might actually care about Charlie, in his own way, or Alastor for being none other than Alastor. All the signs were there: the redhead might like to play his games with Lucifer, but his interactions with the Charlie held a hint of genuine attachment to them.

Yet it would always be about power with him, wouldn't it? Could he even help himself anymore, when presented with an opportunity he seemingly couldn't pass up?

Lucifer's expression saddened as he focused on his daughter. His hands rose up to gently take hold of the wrist the chain was wrapped around, even if it were no longer visible. As a parent, he wanted to protect her from situations like these: where she was bound to get hurt. He knew he needed to give her space to learn from her mistakes, but how could he just leave his baby girl in the hands of a known sadist? "If he really had your best interests at heart, he wouldn't have needed to make a deal with you."

Charlie's eyes searched his, brows furrowed. "Dad, I can take of myself, remember?"

Because he never knew when to stop when he was ahead, Alastor interrupted them with, "There's no need for fighting, my dear. Your father is right." A red clawed hand appeared on her shoulder. Both of the Morningstars looked to see Alastor standing at Charlie's side. Alastor was giving her the same look he'd given her during his and Lucifer's swing dance show down over who was the better father figure for her. It made Lucifer's teeth itch with how false it was.

Charlie, on the other hand, merely watched him with confusion. "Alastor? What do you mean?"

As if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, Alastor said, "Only that bonds built on mistrust make for unstable foundations." With a flick of his free hand, a glowing document appeared out of thin air, unfurrowing to reveal Charlie's signature plain as day at the bottom.

It was Charlie's contract.

"I think we can both agree," he carried on, knowing he had everyone in the room hanging on his every word, "That you and I have built such a bond of trust that this silly little thing isn't necessary."

Before anyone could react to that clearly manipulative statement, Alastor took the document, one claw on each of the top corners and ripped it in half. Without missing a beat, he tossed the two halves to either side of himself, the supernatural paper catching fire and burning away as if fell. A wisp of ash touched the floor before disappearing. "Charlie, I release you from our deal."

Lucifer stared, his emotions a storm of confusion and doubt. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. There was no way. Alastor would never have just released anyone from their deal with him unless he was getting something out of it. Alastor didn't do things for the good of other people. This had to be a game somehow. But what did he gain from it? Unease began to creep in as Lucifer tried to make sense of what he'd just witnessed.

The answer came when Charlie inhaled sharply, all but literal stars in her eyes. "Alastor! I'm so proud of you!" She threw herself at the redhead, wrapping her arms around him in a bone crushing hug. "Of course you can trust me!"

Lucifer realized with dawning horror that this, this was what Alastor gained from that little display of pretending to show faith and trust. Charlie had bought it hook, line, and sinker. His whole body locked up, the instinct to protect his child at war with the fear of excommunicating her by killing Alastor for the sheer audacity.

Worse, Lucifer had been right there and he had still failed to protect her from this sinner.

Alastor's expression softened with fondness as he tolerantly patted her head, enduring the forced contact with grace. After letting her have her hug, he gently pried her hands off of him, to which Charlie winced, saying, "Sorry! Sorry, I know. Boundaries."

The redhead gave her a light bop on the nose, to show he forgave her her trespasses. "It's perfectly alright. No harm done." He sent his microphone away to clear his hands, freeing them to clap together, as if he didn't already have everyone's attention. "Now, if everyone would kindly vacate my room, I have a very long To Do List to accomplish and there are only so many hours in the day to do it."

Angel and Cherri didn't need to be told twice, ready to make themselves scarce now that the drama had passed. Charlie moved over to grip Vaggie's arm as they walked together out the door, the taller woman saying with excitement, "Vaggie, did you see! I told you!"

It was a relief to see that Vaggie still looked doubtful, for all that it did nothing to slow down how quickly Alastor was entrapping Charlie little by little.

When it was just the two of them, Alastor turned to Lucifer, his smile maliciously pleasant. "Come now, your Majesty, out you go. One of those tasks is one you appointed me yourself."

It took every ounce of Lucifer's no small amount of self control not to lose his shit all over again now that they were alone. "You may have Charlie fooled, but don't think for a second I don't see through you."

Alastor leaned forward, his hand wrapping itself around their mutual deal. The physical reminder of how entangled they already were casting a golden, green glow upon his face. Bold to his core and with the fearlessness born of someone who knew he held Lucifer's number one weakness in his claws, he said, sweetly, "And yet, I've already got exactly what I wanted."

Lucifer slapped the hand away, as if allowing the chain to disappear would somehow make what he said any less true. "Thin ice, Alastor. Don't forget it."

He pivoted on his heel, refusing to see what the response would have been. If he wanted any hope of being able to work with Alastor, Lucifer needed to leave now before any remaining good will was burned away.

He ignored the way that Alastor's gaze burned into his back, the sensation lingering long after he'd left.

tbc

Part 11

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #i swear to god these two #its one step forward #ten steps back #sorry this is looking like it's going to be a slow burn? 🙃#it'll start to turn around soon #ish?#we'll get there eventually #this chapter was supposed to include the meeting with rosie #but then the other members of the hotel happened #and i hit such a good ending spot #so next chapter it is

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ethereal-occultist · 2 months ago

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I need Divine Restorations and Repairs Crowley to be real because I need my singing bird clock fixed

#it’s only from 1997 but still that’s older than me #the sound is so quiet I can barely hear it #at least the clock part is working #it used to be at my grandparents house and I grew up hearing all the birds at the top of the hour #divine restorations and repairs #good omens fic #crowley #good omens #bird clock #singing bird clock

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sylwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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They're a friendly business 😃

From Ch 16 of Divine Restorations & Repairs

He didn’t really know what to expect, didn’t have any sort of sense for what kind of online presence they should have outside of their bright and busy WordPress-based website. Aziraphale had purchased a domain of course, per Madame Tracy’s advice, but that had been a decade ago and little about the website had changed since. It was really more of an avenue to show that they were, in fact, a business and displayed their contact information, which was actually more of a memo.

If you would like to inquire about our services for your antiques and heirlooms, we strongly recommend you call the telephone number listed above. The email address does work as well, but it is checked only on Tuesdays through Thursdays, though we do make exceptions for some Fridays if it isn’t too busy. If you do email on Thursday after two o’clock, however, it is very likely you won’t hear from us until the following Tuesday after lunch. If you don’t mind the wait, then feel free to use the email, though we do advise against it.

Have a good day.

There was also a smiley face, so customers would know they were a friendly business.

Return to ao3

#Anytime anyone likes this I smile #And then I worry about mine and everyone else's sanity #skimmingmilk #good omens #writing partners unite!#ineffable husbands #chapter 16 #Divine Restorations & Repairs #DRR #graphic design is my passion

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talonabraxas · 7 months ago

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The Dance of the Dualities: In the dawn of time, the gender twins were created as two aspects of the one soul. They were given polarity gifts and weaknesss to balance one another. This was the divine design.

This law of gender and its secret mysteries have been woven throughout the universe in every aspect of every living thing.

The living library of divine codes that is woven into the fabric of reality has been under heavy attack by extremely nepharious forces. Threatening the divine blueprint of all that is creation. This has all been orchestrated partially to separate the twin flames , as they are the key to the entire human experience.

Decoding the ancient cosmic mysteries requires the adepts to first merge in the highest realms so that they can unlock cosmic portals that take them into superhuman capacities.

You can see how this would threaten those who wish to enslave you? Can it be possible that in the garden of eden , something went very very wrong, causing these celestial partners to be ripped away from each other ? Is it possible that something sinister occured? Who was the reptile that accessed the divine feminine?

As the twin flames who have connected in the celestial realms, have come together in dimensional union , they are doing work on the many dimensions to correct the timeline rips and restore time through the galexies. They are repairing the dna damage and mutations that have been done to tear them apart.

This process is the work of the Gods. As it is a sacred work done through the heavens and then onto earth to assist the human collective to return to innocence.

Without duality between them, there would be no third energy. Which is what is created through the union. A perpetual push forward to cause ascending evolution from human into Superhuman.

The celestial lovers who have ascended beyond the time matrix are now, the galactic heroes of the multiverses. They have done what none have before. The ultimate separation from one another for millennia. The decent Into darkness for the sake of the whole of humanity. The return to the source again. And finally, the decent back to earth, to assist the human collective.

All glory to the most high,

Divine honor to all ascended masters who have achieved this magnificent state of evolution. We know what it means for humanity. As the galexies cheer for those who graduate the paradox.

Ellen Redd/Author Twin Flame Oracle

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the-whatcherof-89 · 26 days ago

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Sir CyberKnife Herald of order.

CR 22 LG Medium Humanoid (Orc, Humanoid)

XP 614,400 (if used as npc for encounter)Advanced Half orc Bard(Negotiator)12 Paladin(Scion of peace)8

Lawful Good Medium humanoid (half orc)

Init +7; Senses Perception +39

AC 36, touch 25, flat-footed 29, (+7Natural, +5Deflect, +6Armor, +5Shield, +7Dexterity, +1Intuition) Hp 225 (12d8+8D10+148)

Fort +33, Ref +33, Will +36

Speed 30 ft. Melee Diplomat3+28/23/18/13 1D6+4, Spells. Ranged Bow of Artaphernes+32/27/22/17 1D8+8, Spells.

Racial Speed 30ft, Darkvision 60ft, Human-raised, sacred tattoo, Orc blood.

Traits Noble Savage.

Class features Hard bargain, Bardic performance(Counter-argument, Fast talk, binding contract, Distraction, Fascinate, Inspire competence, Suggestion, Dirge of doom, Soothing performance), Master of rhetoric 2/day, Well-versed, Jack of all trades, Rogue talents(Finesse rogue, Charmer, Ranged disarm, Slippery mind), Scion’s faith, Egalitarian, Aura of good, Detect evil, Smite evil3/day, Bonded eagle, Lay on hands, Aura of courage, Divine health, Channel positive energy, Mercy(Deceived, Riled), Consensus.

Spellcasting CL12(Bard) Daily 8/8/7/6 CL5th(Paladin) Daily 4/4 DC22.

Known(Bard): 0-Read magic, Mage hand, Prestidigitation, Detect magic, Repair, Message. I-Charm person, Hideous laughter, Grease, Cure light wounds, Animate ropes, Alarm. II-Cure moderate wounds, Calm emotions, Mirror image, Enthrall, Hold person. III-Haste, Good hope, Dispel magic, Charm monster. IV-Hold monster, Summon monster IV-Freedom of movement, Illusory terrain.

Prepared(Paladin): I-Bless, Lesser restoration, Build trust, Detect undead. II-Resist energy, Bull’s strength, Shield other, Zone of truth.

Str 12, Dex 24, Con 24, Int 24, Wis 22, Cha 34

Base Atk +17/12/7/2; CMB +13; CMD +20

Feats Scribe scroll, Combat expertise, Precise shot, Improved disarm, Deadly aim, Adept champion, Outflank, Leadership, Point-blank shot, Spell focus(Enchantment), Greater spell focus(Enchantment).

Skills Acrobatics+30, Appraise+11, Bluff+22, Climb+9, Craft(Calligraphy)+30, Diplomacy+46, Disguise+16, Escape artist+30, Fly+11, Handle animal+16, Heal+12, Intimidate+22, Knowledge (Arcana+29, Dungeon+15, Engineering+15, Geography+15, History+15, Local+21, Nature+15, Nobility+15, The planes+15, Religion+15), Linguistics+4, Perception+29, Perform(Oratory)+35, Profession(Ambassador)+15, Ride+11, Sense motive+45, Sleight of hand+15, Spellcraft+28, Stealth+15, Survival+10, Swim+5, Use magic device+33.

Leadership score (40)Cohort lv17th Followers I-135 II-13 III-7 IV-4 V-2 VI-2 (Special modifications due to the Kingstone)

Languages Common, Orcish, Giant, Abyssal, Draconic, Ignan, Aquan, Necril, Alko, Sylvan, Tongues(via the Kingstone).

Combat gear Diplomat3(Disarming blade+Diplomat’s traveling stick+ Defending rapier+4), Bow of Artaphernes(Adaptive Cunning Allying dispelling Longbow+5), 50+3 Arrows, Clod iron longsword, Uniform of Apollonius(Heavy fortification Iadran dress uniform+3), Ring of protection+5, Ring of tactical precision(Outflank), Amulet of natural armor+5, Quick-block buckler, Staff of bolstering, Headband of mental superiority+6(Escape artist), Belt of physical might+6(Dex, Con), Cloak of Diogenes(Cloak of the diplomat+Cloak of resistance+3), Inquisitor’s monocle, Bracers of steadiness, Bag of holding(Type I), Tome of leadership and influence+3(Used), Ioun stones(Lavender and green ellipsoid, Dusty rose prism), Potions of gaseous form(4), Scrolls: Haste(1), Heroism(1), (Summon monster IV(3), Bard’s kit, 373GP, The Kingstone(Artifact).

The Kingstone(Artifact) Aura(Strong enchantment) CL18th Description:

This artifact looks like a finely-carved marble sphere with runes of gold inscribed in various languages reciting poems of kings and rulers which changes every day. The stone can be carried by anyone but only those who are worthy can use its powers. Those deemed unworthy will have the stone turned into a cursed artifact known as a Loadstone. However, should one work to find a suitable user, the stone will guide the holder toward the “Ideal King” via prophetic dreams and other means granting the power to use Divine Favor upon itself once per day. Once the stone finds the “Ideal King” it will bestow its powers upon him which includes the following: 1)The user is constantly under the effect of of the following spells: Divine Favor, Tongues and Heroism. 2)All effect of auras, inspiration and Charisma-based skills, abilities and spells double the area which they cover normally, their other effects remain unchanged. 3)Finally, if the user manages to become a ruling figure of a kingdom or to be accepted as a king, the stone allows to the user to project an illusory image of the kingdoms and it will automatically know if there are enemies in the land(such as an invading army). This effect functions as the spell Sand Table. 4)All the authority bonuses increases by +3, furthermore, the user can summon an extra Monstrous Cohort of the appropriate level that serves him once per day for 1 hour which can be divided in 1 minute increments at his request(In this case it’s a Young Silver Dragon). If the cohort is killed, it disappears and can be summoned again after 24h. The more the user becomes famous, the more it becomes closer to turn into the “Ideal King” the ruler of all nations and kingdoms whom will unite all the world under a single banner. It is unknown if this is true or just a myth, but if the holder of the stone wishes to pass the torch of rulership it must find a replacement before giving it away. Common people will come flocking under the holder of the Kingstone seeing him as the true king (Regardless, such situation must be discussed by the DM). Destruction: To destroy the Kingstone it must be buried in the ground of the material plane in a land where no kingdom/nation has been established for at least 100 years and it must stay there for 1000 years untouched. When said time has passed, the stone turns into dust. However, the gods will not stay idle and a new Kingstone is sure to reappear somewhere, somehow to find a new candidate “Ideal King”.

Challenge rating modifiers +1 advanced template, Improved stats, PC equipment.

Background: Very little is known about the one known as Cyberknife(if that is his real name). From what little snippets of knowledge some attained, he was born in the Nether as all Piglins(Orcs) does. However, as it happens very rarely, the pig inhabitants of the red wastes will give birth to a hybrid: a Hal-feh(half-orc). Even more rarely, these hybrids becomes just better than the more run-of-the-mill gold-obsessed creatures. Of course, the leaders of the various clans will see these as “impure” and/or a danger for their leadership and will most likely try to systematically eliminate the threat before it becomes a real one. Cyberknife was one such case, but as he was about to be sacrificed in a ritual for their god, he succeeded at escaping by causing a Hoglin stampede across the bastion and escaping from an obsidian portal. Although, he did heard that if one of their kin does escape the dimension is turned into a zombie, he knew he was born DIFFERENT. As he left, he felt something change but he was fine; He found a vibrant world completely different from the lava-scarred caves he used to live. He walked the land, and although he had a rocky start(not being accepted by the inhabitants of this land) eventually things took a turn when he was accepted in a traveling circus where he discovered his talent for the bardic arts. He then enrolled into a bardic academy where he was the only one of his kind, not a good thing but he did not care for he had bigger plans in mind: He wanted to change the view the world had on the Nether and reestablish a peaceful relationships with the two dimensions. This was not an easy task but he was DETERMINED. After more years, he left the academy to look for fortune as an adventurer; and one day after a long expedition in an ancient tomb he found that stone: the Kingstone. After that day, it took him little to enroll as an advisor in a battlefield and even less to rise in the ranks and become a commander. With the glory of victory he entered the kingdom a champion, then, with the money that he attained, he founded a political campaign to promote the betterment of the kingdom. The opposition attempted to destroy him, but he was always able to thwart their efforts and won in a landslide. Cyberknife became the ruler of a nation at the young age of 22 and had no intention of stopping. After 10 years of turmoil he succeeded to quell the conflict between 3 more kingdoms and unite them under his banner. Now, from his massive palace he plans for the future… but what future?

First image - made with Heroforge.

Second image - Art by the fantastic Goatfella: https://www.tumblr.com/goatfellaa/693602368642809856/cyberknife-design?source=share

#minecraft #roleplay game #pathfinder #technoblade #heroforge #cyberknife #dream smp #minecraft fanart

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merakiui · 2 years ago

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imagine being a god who scaramouche worships and respects and admires greatly (to the point of unhealthy obsession). he is so devoted to you because you’ve been with him throughout every stage of his life. he met you as kabukimono, and you were a guiding light amidst all of the gloom that soon befell him. you showed him beauty amidst death and despair. you smiled at him when others looked upon him with fear and horror. you extended your kind hands in forgiveness, washing away bloodshed and grime, informing him of the worth of a mortal’s life. a fleeting, precious span of time in which they exist as flesh and blood—moments that are easily snuffed. you tell him, wise and understanding as ever, that he is not truly bad. that is he simply grappling with difficult concepts he can’t yet comprehend. that his mourning does not make him monstrous.

though this doesn’t justify all the villainous deeds he has done as kabukimono, it does leave quite the impact on him. and for once he thinks the gods are not so bad. you aren’t so bad. but then, when he was kabukimono, he was always so willing to explore, to trust and learn, to see and taste. to live unapologetically.

when he’s scaramouche, he hunts you down and captures you for himself. time has not been kind to a god such as yourself. you’ve grown weaker and are hardly worth any devotion now, which makes it quite easy to confine a poor, defenseless god such as yourself. but like you, time has also not been well to scaramouche. he is cruel and cold, hardened by the passage of decades. he is shattered glass that has been repaired with the glue of fallen enemies. he has no true allies—only fatui allies by circumstance, but even then these allies are not to be trusted or relied on. he is all alone, a being without hope. a being who shrouds himself in hatred and darkness so that he will never look or feel weak or “human” again.

he constantly reminds you that you are nothing. that your era has long since faded and that there’s no one left (aside from himself) who will remember you. even when he’s scaramouche, you still treat him kindly. even when he cuts into you with harsh remarks and insults, you smile at him. even when he tells you he could end your pitiful existence right here and now, you hold your hands out and ask for his permission to sing a lullaby. if his mood happens to be good, he may allow it. the first time you sung him a lullaby was your last. you’ll never know why, but scaramouche does. it’s because your sweet voice and the stories you weaved into song were enough to bring forth buried emotions. it was enough to make him feel human. it was enough to bring him to tears.

as shouki no kami, he requests that you be present for when he finally becomes a true god. he will never admit to it, but one of his reasons for seeking godhood was so that he could be closer to you. or perhaps even above you as a being of divine power. maybe then he could restore some of your weakened powers so that he could ensure you would never wither away into nothing. shouki no kami does not seem to hate you as he did when he was scaramouche. rather, he seems confident in himself and his abilities. he will sculpt a new era with you at his side. when he’s a god, perhaps you will finally recognize him as someone worthy of disapproval and frowns, for you’ve only ever shown him sweetness and smiles, even when he was at his most dastardly. for once, he seeks not your love but your scrutiny.

when he emerges into the world as wanderer, he meets you once more. this time you greet him with a smile, but you can’t recognize him. you don’t recall the bloodstained history you’ve shared with him, for it no longer exists. yet you still smile. the one who subjected you to such cruelty stands before you and even though you don’t recall him you still smile. you take his hands in your warm ones as you had done in the past and you smile.

wanderer isn’t sure why this is enough to have tears forming at the corners of his eyes, but oddly enough he lowers to his knees, pulls your hands closer to where his vision rests against his chest, and he asks you to sing him a lullaby. you have always been a selfless, caring god, so you lower into the grass with him, embrace him firmly, and you sing a familiar melody.

lesser lord kusanali has told him that all beings are worthy of second chances. wanderer thinks this is both a second chance and a punishment, for the emotions that overwhelm him hurt. but it’s a pain that’s special. it’s a pain that reminds him of his sordid past.

it reminds him that even he, a wanderer without a name or a background or a home, is worthy of divine acceptance.

#meraki mumbles #yandere scaramouche

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