#Divine Restorations & Repairs

[ethereal-occultist]

[sylwritesstuff]

@brunheiffer very kindly used their time and talent and wonderfulness to bind a copy of Divine Restorations & Repairs by me and @skimmingmilk

Both volumes are BEAUTIFUL! I wish my photos could property depict the shine and just the all of it. I love the charms, the art, the paper choice, the font choices, the EFFORT. I'm so honored and crying at my desk. They're beautiful and I'm absolutely stunned. Thank you so much!

[theambitiouswoman]

Solfeggio Frequencies and their healing properties:

• 174 Hz – Relieving Pain and Stress

This frequency relieves pain, reduces stress, and enhances focus. It provides a sense of security to the organs and is especially helpful for pain in the lower back, feet and legs.

• 285 Hz – Healing Tissue and Organs

Known for supporting tissue healing, this frequency aids in cell repair and treats minor injuries, helping the body to restore itself.

• 396 Hz – Liberating Guilt and Fear

This frequency is used to release feelings of guilt and fear, encouraging a positive outlook and emotional freedom.

• 417 Hz – Undoing Situations and Facilitating Change

The 417 Hz frequency is believed to clear negativity, remove emotional blocks, and facilitate positive change, helping to reset the mind and body.

• 528 Hz – Transformation and Miracles

The “love frequency,” 528 Hz is known for enhancing imagination, healing, and intuition. It promotes spiritual growth and transformation.

• 639 Hz – Connecting Relationships

For building and mending relationships, 639 Hz fosters harmony and connection, supporting friendships, family, and community ties.

• 741 Hz – Awakening Intuition

This frequency promotes intuition, problem-solving, and clarity, and can aid in easing chronic pain, bringing a sharper mental focus.

• 852 Hz – Returning to Spiritual Order

A spiritual frequency that reconnects you to your higher self and aligns you with the universe, promoting inner peace and balance.

• 963 Hz – Divine Consciousness or Enlightenment

Known as the “frequency of the Gods,” 963 Hz opens pathways to unity, oneness, and spiritual awakening, encouraging a sense of enlightenment.

[reality-detective]

Frankincense (Boswellia Carteri) and DNA Repair🧬 💉🤯

Frankincense, or Boswellia carteri, has been revered for its therapeutic properties across various cultures and religious texts, including the Bible. Its usage dates back thousands of years, cited for its capacity to heal and purify. Interestingly, modern scientific research has begun to uncover that the resin of Frankincense may have properties that contribute to cellular health, including DNA repair.

Properties of Frankincense:

Anti-inflammatory: Boswellic acids, the active compounds in frankincense, are known for their powerful anti-inflammatory effects.

Antioxidant: Frankincense is rich in antioxidants, which help protect cells from damage caused by free radicals.

DNA Repair:

Recent studies suggest that frankincense may contribute to DNA repair mechanisms. The presence of compounds in frankincense can potentially support the body's natural ability to heal and regenerate by:

Reducing Oxidative Stress:

Antioxidants in frankincense mitigate oxidative stress, which can damage DNA. By reducing such stress, frankincense helps preserve the integrity of genetic material.

Anti-inflammatory Effects:

Chronic inflammation can lead to DNA damage and subsequently, various diseases. The anti-inflammatory properties of frankincense reduce such risk factors, indirectly supporting DNA repair.

In the biblical narrative, particularly in texts like Genesis and the Book of Enoch, it's mentioned that fallen angels (Nephilim) sought to corrupt mankind's DNA. If seen from this perspective, the concept that frankincense—a substance already revered in biblical times—can contribute to restoring and repairing DNA is compelling and symbolic.

Purification: Frankincense has traditionally been seen as purifying. In the spiritual sense, using frankincense to "repair" DNA could symbolize the restoration of divine order and purity, aligning humanity closer to what some might interpret as the original creation by God.

Spiritual Healing: This idea ties into the broader spiritual and healing properties traditionally ascribed to Frankincense. It represents not just physical, but also metaphysical restoration.

A Fascinating Intersection: The intersection of ancient spiritual beliefs and modern scientific findings presents a fascinating scenario. The idea that a substance mentioned in the Bible as sacred and healing could, in fact, have properties that support DNA repair underscores the timeless nature of traditional wisdom, harmonizing with contemporary science. 🤔

[sylwritesstuff]

Thank you 😭 I'm glad you enjoyed it!! Crowley's history was a delight to come up with and @skimmingmilk is a permanent treasure to work with 💘

Fanfic Review: Divine Restorations & Repairs

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.

Length: 315,275 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Long sitting or with breaks, mostly safe in public, slow burn, found family story, pick-me-up

Triggers: Murder Mention (not graphic), Minor violence

Read it here, fic by skimmingthesurface and SylWritesStuff

*Minor Spoilers* I spent an entire Sunday lazily reading this one, and I highly recommend trying that out! This is satisfyingly long, enough of a slow burn that you fall into the world easily. But it doesn’t tease and keep our couple apart more than absolutely necessary. Plus the setting is really enjoyable, it’s a Human AU that I liked living in. Aziraphale runs an antique repair shop, and when the Bentley breaks down nearby, Crowley finds more than just a temporary shelter from the rain. And of course, miraculously, Crowley has the technical skills Aziraphale was looking to hire for. Yeah, sure, there are a couple plot points that are bordering on too serendipitous. But isn’t that just like the Good Omens canon anyway? I’m willing to accept a bit of divine intervention or whatever it is that pushes them together.

A couple things I particularly loved: the shop itself and their projects, Crowley’s backstory and Jewish traditions, the Tadfield community/found family, the absolute romance of it all. And one particular scene where Crowley performs a magic trick on Aziraphale. It had me screaming, crying, throwing up it was so stupidly romantic.

Heaven, or rather Aziraphale's family, are absolutely terrible people. Which parallels the canon well, but in a human world a couple parts seemed a little much for the setting. Like Aziraphale, my love, how can you defend them? I get abusive families but he really is delusional about it. That's the intended point though, and what I love is that this story gives him a way to finally come to his senses by seeing how Anathema is treated by them. He just needed an outside look! Crowley has a past that I won’t spoil here, but it’s very engaging and easy to see how he fell down such a path. It’s a unique take at Crowley, and probably one of my favorites. There's still the hard edge to him we know, but a unique softness that extends to all his new found family. Not just Aziraphale. A little action movie at the very end, but stays on the side of enjoyable rather than cheesy. 

This is truly a story you should make time to read. It’s long yes, and I liked doing it in one sitting, but it lends itself well to breaks. You don’t need to scarf it down like I did. The smut is also later in the story and easily skippable if that's not your thing. So for the majority of this, it's definitely something you can enjoy in public comfortably.

Read it here, fic by skimmingthesurface and SylWritesStuff

[teal-magic91]

I have a head cannon about God Gale and my Hana (tav). It's popped into my head recently, and it's all I can think about. This image, in my humble opinion, captures the struggle that both Gale and Hana suffer through when reconnecting after being separated from one another for a year.

A year later, Gale came back for Hana having realized how much time he was wasting pretending to be a god. Somehow, he becomes human, he immediately begins his journey to find Hana. He learns she's been living in Reithwin and helping restore the shadow lands. (I've been thinking about her and Halsin having a thing, but id need to flesh it for it to make sense to me) Once Gale finds Hana there she wants nothing to do with him, obviously heartbroken that he chose divinity over their loving bond, he wants her to take him back knowing now what he had before with her and she's livid. Hana had been slowly moving on, but Gale had to drop back in; he cries, begs, pleads, and prays for Hana to please take him back.

He realized that she'd never agree to be his chosen. It was a shock to his system and it was enough to snap him out of his choice. Hana is obviously still deeply in love with Gale. He was her second greatest love, and she's weak against his pining words. She tells Gale that in order to earn back her love that he has to help her, Halsin, and the new residents rebuild Reithwin. Gale, at this point, will do anything for Hana. He is at her mercy.

Gale starts helping repair the town and as he does. He discovers later that by doing this, he learns to appreciate his life, and he slowly begins to clear his consciousness. No longer needing Moonrise towers to stand as a place of horror, they tear down the castle, bless the stone, and reuse the stones to build new homes. Gale, with Halsin's help, builds a cottage for Hana so that she has a home to herself. She allows herself to let him back in, it takes about several months of pining from both sides, for both of them to be close emotionally and Gale learns how to love himself and how to better love Hana.

Over time, they give each other everything. They learn to be friends this time and begin falling back in love with each other. She invites Gale to live with her once they're more established and ready to be together again. Before Gale would either stay with Halsin or at one of the camps when Halsin had company over. Everything between them feels new and familiar at the same time, they communicate what each one wants from the other.

Hana is secretly happy Gale came back and Gale is humbled to be with her again and this time he is not fucking around anymore. Where he found it "fascinating" that she would meditate and worship the majesty of nature, Hana being a druid and a monk,he takes a page from her book for once and meditates and worships right along side her. He finds himself feeling more elated and enlightened much to his surprise. He takes whatever wisdom she offers him greedily so that he might be worthy of her.

He goes back to his home in Waterdeep and moves to Reithwin, taking Tara with him and begins teaching the new mages that appear in the once cursed shadowlands. Anyone who is skilled in magic helps alongside Gale, Hana, and Halsin as they teach the young and old how to hone their arcane abilities. Which helps to fortify their new home with wards and such. Gale obviously journeys with Hana to visit his mother in his hometown when they can find the time.

There are times when they're on the road or in their ever growing home that he looks at Hana and wonders why he thought being a god would help solve the crisis of his ambition? When, his greatest ambition was always to love the woman who saved his life and be worthy of her love.

Gale and Hana also have a lot of make-up sex, so much.

[lets-try-some-writing]

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?

━━━━━━

“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.

[aziraphales-library]

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

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

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

[dorliart]

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.

[boymanmaletheshequel]

The symbolism of Mnemosyne

🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠🧸🧠

A titan deity of memory, the arbiter of nostalgia and remembering, speaker of many a language, and a mother of confusion, as well as artistic expression, Mnemosyne is the definition of a bittersweet goddess, she can bring great joy, but also painful suffering. Let’s take a look at her repertoire of symbolism, so that maybe if she speaks to us in the fog of our memory, we might recognize her better.

———————————————————————

• Colors 🌈

- Black, white, and purple: are colors that are all associated with memory, as many see the past in black and white, and knowledge is often associated with the color purple.

• Flowers and plants 🌸

- Periwinkle: a purple flower that is often associated with innocence lost by maturity, as well as the memory of the past, periwinkle is a great flower to represent lady Mnemosyne.

- Gingko: as for plants, ginkgos are associated with remembrance and wisdom, and are known for their ancient longevity, with some trees having been dated by their rings to living for over 1,000 years!

• Animals 🐴

- Parrots: known for their colorful feathers, long lasting and potent memories, and uncanny ability to mimic the human tongue and language, parrots encompass three major themes of Mnemosyne’s domain: memory, color, and speech.

- Elephants: perhaps the most obvious choice here, the elephant has long been a symbol of memory, knowledge, and sensitivity. They have the longest known memory cycle of any known animal on earth.

- Starlings: another bird with an uncanny ability to nearly perfectly adapt to and learn human speech, starlings are also known for their iridescent feathers, reminiscent of mnemosyne’s association with artistic colors.

• Food 🍗

- Drinking water. In Hellenic mythology, it is said that those that participated in the rituals at the oracle of trophonios drank spring water to help them to remember what they had seen while under the oracles influence.

- nuts. Nuts are one of the superfoods that are believed to improve cognitive function, especially in the area of our ability to strengthen and improve our memory.

- nostalgic foods. Not really a specific food, but eating a food item that is nostalgic to you, beckoning back to a past memory that you are fond of, is a good association for a food to Mnemosyne.

• Crystals and gems 💎

- Amethyst. A stone that is believed to restore one’s memory, and repair their cognitive function, amethyst was once believed to be able to cure inebriation by the ancient Greeks, and in fact, it’s name comes from the Greek word “amethustos” meaning “not drunken”

- Hematite. Some believe that hematite can help clear your congested psyche and guide you through your memory to help uncover and remember specific moments throughout your life!

- Kunzite. Kunzite is said to be a stone that is used for communication and language, both through divinity, and through everyday human communication.

• Planets 🪐

- Uranus. As a titan goddess, mother Mnemosyne is a daughter of Uranus, who is signified by the planet in our solar system. Uranus is often associated with memory and knowledge, so it’s the most sensible fit for a celestial association with Mnemosyne.

• Astrology ☄️

- Scorpio. A Scorpio forgets nothing it is said, for better or for worse, and although they aren’t necessarily the greatest communicators, just about everything else about Mnemosyne seems to fit the bill for a Scorpio!

• Other symbols 🧠

- the brain. The brain is the part of us that Mnemosyne exists entirely within, she really is our brain in a sense, so this is a symbol often associated with a goddess of memory and communication.

- Photographs. A snippet of a moment in time saved from our memory, and a great conversation piece in anyone’s home or camera role, photographs are a no brainer for something that directly channels mnemonic emotions, either that’s nostalgia, regret, or fulfillment.

———————————————————————

Well there you have it, now that you have become acquainted with some of lady Mnemosynes signs and symbols, perhaps you will find her hand on your shoulder the next time you grow emotional from nostalgia, pour over a memory forgotten, or learn a new word you can’t wait to speak with! 🧠

If you like my posts, and wish to learn more about the deities and stories of Hellen, consider giving my blog a follow! I post daily about hellenismos, and various other fascinating things. Blessed be your day 💙🏛️💙

[ethereal-occultist]

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

[sylwritesstuff]

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

[the-whatcherof-89]

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

[talonabraxas]

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

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XVII: Dilemma

1 hour before the end of the SCR's assault against the Argonaut...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We'll get you fixed, oh dear... we'll get you fixed as much as possible."

Doctor Faulkner was intensely working at restoring a dying Jimmy splayed across his operating table, kept unconscious from the anesthetics the doctor had placed in his IV. The continual bombardment of the Argonaut had rendered several of his Surgery Bay's capabilities damaged, including the Cloning Conduit that produced new limbs and organs.

It didn't take long to repair all of Jimmy's physical injuries; including the mutilation of his fingers and eye, he was only left with surgery on his brain, completely intent on fixing every illnesses plaguing this man.

Unlike Hawkes, Faulkner was similar to Annie, in that he had sworn the Hippocratic Oath and was only revitalized in his beliefs to help others by the Day of Erudition. If God had personally given them a mandate to live, then why would he, a mere doctor, defy this divine mandate?

He knew how much Hawkes wanted to paint the room with this man's blood, but Faulkner was heavily set on redemption, finding a path which even this walking garbage could achieve. There was no place for Jimmy on the Argonaut, but if his unconscious body was left for the SCR to pick up, there was a very good chance he would be pressed into their service and could do some good in his own way.

Pirates? The Separatists? No, Faulkner didn't tell anyone on board, but he'd interacted with them outside the Argonaut many times in his younger years—except they weren't called the SCR, instead known decades ago as the Hannou Armed Forces. Hailing from the planet of Hannou, their homeworld suffered a global civil war over supply shortages and mass hysteria during the era when the Terror and its innumerable spawn were wreaking havoc across humanity's many colonies.

It was the usual 'planet falls into disarray' type of story that afflicted several worlds across the galaxy. Supply cut-off from Terra created shortages in several industries reliant on intragalactic trade, which led to a scarcity of products, which then cascaded into internal strife and wealth concentration, then into civil war, populist warlords, the deaths of hundreds of millions, and eventually a weak reunification of law and order under a now-depleted homeworld. From what Faulkner last heard, Hannou was now a third-world, barely sustaining itself on subsistence agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, mining, and fishing; a level of living that predated even the ancient 1900s industrial era. 

And yet, for its gruesome and bloody history, the people of Hannou had never lost the traits inherent in the populace before its fall- compassionate, zealous, forthright and honorable. The only difference from those decades ago and now was...

The Hannou wanted to commit genocide against Canaris- primarily because Canaris was responsible for fueling the civil strife during that period of Hannou's lifespan, getting rich off the arms trade, espionage, and lending out mercenary groups to all sides of the conflict. That kind of interference was not forgotten, and it was the breaking point that led to the reunification of Hannou under a one-world government again- united in their murderous desire to seek revenge against Canaris for its historical atrocities.

Faulkner possessed this same hatred for the Canaris leadership responsible for that and several other exploitative practices, but his loyalty to his homeworld outpaced that loathing for the higher echelons of Canaris society. Additionally, with all the time served on the Argonaut and under Hawkes' oversight, he'd become acutely aware that Captain Hawkes had largely prevented and deterred more of that kind of exploitation as he got older and more ingrained into the elitist levels of Canaris.

A hero he was, to Faulkner. But a hero whose sense of morality Faulkner didn't agree with. Not after resurrection became possible, especially.

"Once you are patched up," Faulkner spoke to the unconscious body of Jimmy, as if airing out his thoughts. "I'll send you on your way, with little doubt you'll be taken by the Hannou. You will see their history, and know that they, too, are mired with terrible fortune and a sickening past."

He began the brain surgery, making use of medical devices and surgery tools to crack open the cranium as he continued his terse speech.

"A second chance. Doesn't that sound appealing? God gave you this chance, sir. You've done terrible, terrible things, and I expect this is your only and last chance to make up for it. Help the Hannou- help them recover, help them heal, no matter how small of a contribution you make. You will not be plagued by schizophrenia, nor narcissism, nor the other half-dozen issues in your mind since birth. Which means you will have no more excuses for your choices."

Several minutes passed as the surgery was ongoing, until Faulkner ran into a problem.

"Oh, dear... I'll have barely enough material left to remedy your last illnesses. Blast it!"

Not only that, but Faulkner was running out of time. It was looking like the only illness he would be unable to cure with time and material was Jimmy's reduced gray areas that resulted in narcissism. He sighed, looking down at the still-unconscious Jimmy, his face serenely peaceful despite the heavy bags under his eyes.

"You'll have to make do, sir. All you have left is your narcissism. Overcome it! "

Faulkner finished the brain surgery up, restoring skin, sinew, muscle, and bone before removing the IV from Jimmy's arm and hauling him onto his back, groaning as the weight of Jimmy bore down on him. Straining, he dragged Jimmy over to the medical door, opening it and keycarding the reinforced plating so it would slide into its interior hinges, allowing Faulkner to drag Jimmy out into the hallway and lay him down, looking around the hallways for any sign of the Hannou-

BSSSSSSSSSSSCH-KRRRRRRRRCH!

"LORD ALMIGHTY!" Faulkner screamed in terror as a breaching pod slammed through the hallway corridor a few meters south, sending a deafening roar through the hallways and a brief moment of depressurization. Not wanting to get kidnapped himself, Faulkner scrambled back into the office and closed the reinforced plating, looking through the one-way tinted window as SCR fighters cleared the hallways, arriving upon Jimmy's body and dragging him out of view, likely to be abducted and transferred back to the Armada. Faulkner slumped below the window, huffing in fatigue.

"May the Lord have mercy on your soul." He muttered. "And may you make the right choices this time around, Jimmy."

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Thirty minutes after defeat against the Argonaut...

The SCR Armada, or what was left of it, was forced to limp back home in humiliating defeat, having FTL jumped away from the Argonaut after the surviving boarding pods had returned to their capital ships. As the boarding pod reinitiated with the capital ship of Aurora, piloted by Captain Dino 'Don' Morettison, an eccentric and charismatic Italian who undoubtedly raging across the entire ship right now.

The pod opened its four-fold doors, allowing Pandan to limp out to a massive hangar bay filled with dying and injured SCR fighters being dragged to the Medical Wing, whilst other crewmates were scurrying about trying to repair the severe damages to the capital ship. Pandan groaned in pain and misery as he stumbled his way to a remote area, finding a janitorial closet and closing the door behind him before pulling up his shoulder radio to speak to the onboard ship's Communications Director.

"Quinn, redirect me to that useless fucking informant."

"On it."

Pandan waited a few seconds while the channel was redirected to an encrypted channel reserved for spies and informants.

"What is it?"

"Your 'spy' was fucking useless, you piece of shit. Said absolutely nothing about FOLDING WALL PANELS!"

"Our asset does not hide information from us. It is insanely likely they were not aware of this development on the Argonaut. Do not blame us for your shortcomings in strategy and tact, simply because you fail to act on your feet."

"FUCK. YOU!" Pandan cursed out the radio. "I'm speaking to the ship's Captain about this, BASTARD! I don't give a shit how long you've been 'reliable' to him, you FUCKED us completely!"

"You waste my time."

The radio clicked off, and Pandan tore the radio from his uniform and hurled it at the wall, watching in frustrated satisfaction as it burst into a hundred pieces scattering across the floor.

"FUCK YOU, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" He shouted in futile fury at the broken radio. "FUCK! FUUUUCK!"

Pandan groaned and shouted in utter frustration, infinitely in rage over how overwhelmingly they lost the battle. Utterly defeated, he fell against the back wall and slid down in complete misery, sobbing as he recounted the battle brothers and sisters that had boarded with him into that nightmare.

Why? He thought. Why did we ever think it was feasible to attack that tyrannical behemoth? What were these fucking idiots thinking? I was right to protest. We lost so many, no doubt resurrected and imprisoned on their way to Canaris to be executed.

His head was placed in his hands, shaking quietly in disgrace. Maybe the bastard was right. Maybe he was just a bad leader, a bad strategist- a bad improviser.

"We captured someone? Who??"

"Some fuck from Pony Express of all places! What the hell was an employee from that shithole doing on the Argonaut?"

Pandan raised his head from his palms, interest piqued as he listened in on the conversation outside the closet.

"Where are they taking him?"

"Holding, apparently, next to all the Canary trash. They're gonna vet him and see if he's Canarisian, or loyal to the Argonaut."

Pandan's eyes narrowed, then lowered in malevolent but calculated, silent, sadistic eagerness, getting up from the floor and throwing the closet door open, smacking the face of one of the unfortunate grunts standing outside.

"OW! You motherf- oh-! Sir!"

The grunt's irritation quickly changed to discipline and humility as Lieutenant Pandan's face emerged from the closet with a violent grimace, speaking coldly to the grunt with a sincere, long-term plan in mind.

"Bring me to him."

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(Music: "Hex - Krushfunk version", by kxttn

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In the Terrarium, both garrison officers and crewmates were arm in arm, dancing and celebrating at the second major victory in their campaign; saving the Tulpar crew, and now having fended off an entire Armada of pirates with no (permanent) casualties! 

VICTORY!

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

A string of Argonauts were in a horizontal line standing next to one another, arms around each other's shoulders, kicking their feet up like a loony version of the Can-Can as they shouted the bestial chant from the song's barely discernible lyrics. Onlookers cheered and engaged in their own unique dances- Sergeants breakdancing, Privates doing the giddy griddy, Lieutenants and heads of departments moving their hands, arms, legs, and hips in jubilant, victorious fashion.

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

The bar staff had abandoned their duties hours ago, leaving the liquor and beer to be pilfered by heavily drunken crewmates, who were absolutely gurgling the abrasive substance like it was Dragonbreath Mouthwash on a stranded freighter. Some of the crewmates, who had been merrymaking long before the rest of the crew gathered in the terrarium, occasionally ran off to the restrooms to vomit their guts out, before taking a medical injector filled with ascetic acid to reset their intoxication and doing the whole thing over again.

Danny, who was a teetotaler on alcohol and drugs, was absolutely floored by the deviant, junkie behavior of the crewmates using this method to keep the party going endlessly.

"Are you fucks trying to revive an eldritch pleasure god?!" He shouted in outrage at the giggling, fleeing, and sobrietized crewmates leaving the bathroom for further merrymaking. The joke he made was quite esoteric in nature, referencing a grimdark sci-fi franchise he had become a fan of after uncovering an archive of them on a captured transport vessel carrying relics, and he was quietly hoping someone else would have knowledge of this fascinating genre he'd uncovered.

Then he realized that no, in fact, no one would have knowledge of a fucking relic from ancient times and the contents inside it. Danny nodded to himself, determined to share the manuscripts he found from the collection with others on the ship who shared the same love for gritty sci-fi.

"BLURRRGGHHH!!!"

"The fuck?" Danny muttered, hearing the sound of someone vomiting in the stalls and groaning in pain. It was, in fact, Emile with a low tolerance for alcohol, emptying the contents of their stomach into the pristine inside of the toilet bowl, whilst Marcel held Emile's hair back to prevent contamination.

"Was fifteen shots necessary?"

"Y-Yes... BLURGGGHHH!!!!"

"I don't know if the Captain would have made that decision."

"S-Shut up... Grk!... he probably drinks... Grk... like a fish-! BLAAARGGHHH!!!"

Danny silently laughed at the unfortunate crewmate's predicament, whoever they were. Even if sobering medical injectors were prevalent today, a person's constitution did not change even if the intoxication was removed. Nausea from alcohol is caused because it irritates the lining of the stomach.

Somehow, knowing this little fact and being able to use it at a time like this only made the crewmate's misfortune even more hilarious to him, and he bellowed out raucous laughter as he exited the restroom with imperial swagger.

"Who the fuck was that??" Marcel muttered confusedly. "What a madman."

"Fukkin... asshole, that guy... BLUURGGG-"

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Meanwhile, the crew of the Numia were permitted to attend the terrarium party and took the opportunity to suck in alcohol like there was no tomorrow- after the stress they'd endured, how close their lives came to an abrupt end, a party was exactly what they were looking for. Only a few stayed behind to head to the Medical Bay, where Annie was assessing Argonauts for mental trauma. Alina, Cortia and Haxel had been escorted by Derek and Sal (carried exhaustively for the most part) to where Annie was assessing a shockingly short line of Argonauts. They came upon her in the Bay, tiredly asking a retinue of questions to each Argonaut, and as Derek listened in, it went from genuine, to half-hearted, to straight-up bullshit answers.

"So, Mr. Lanskey, have you felt a surge of strong emotions since your return?"

"Yes... it feels like I'm going to explode from the inside, but it's also... amazing. I mean, it is euphoric. Honestly, I think you should try it out and see-"

"Uh, no, I'm good. Next! Hello Ms. Sandy. Have you noticed any mental or physical symptoms or issues after your revival?"

"Mm... no, not really."

"...Uh, okay. You seem surprisingly calm for having just returned from the dead."

"I mean, everyone handles death differently, right?"

"...The quote goes "everyone handles grief differently", but sure, I guess you have a point. But... I mean, really? No symptoms at all?"

"Nope."

"....Okay. Has there been a noticeable change in your worldviews or-"

"No, I'm tellin' ya- look, can I just go to the Terrarium?? I lost a bet and now I have to do a keg stand!"

"Uh...okay. I guess if there's nothing wrong with you... sure. What bet did you lose?"

"Dying during the pirate skirmish."

As the Argonaut officer stood up from the chair and pumped her fists in the air as she headed out the door, Annie could only stare confusedly at the exiting Argonaut, wondering if this whole crew was deranged beyond sanity.

"...Okay, then. Mr... Ramshack. How have you-"

"You know, I'm kinda pissed, because I got shot in the head by a heavy caliber round, so I didn't really get to see my death coming, you know? And, I'm pissed because, well, I was kinda interested in seeing what it'd feel like, but instead I'm just fighting in the corridors, and suddenly I wind up on the altar."

Annie stared with wide eyes and an unmoving expression at the demented man in front of her.

"So, I just had like, one request if you'd oblige. Can you shoot me in the chest and let me bleed out before you revive me again? Cuz this time around, I wanna-"

"NEXT!"

The Argonaut was saddened and dragged his feet out of the room. Sal and Derek came up next in line, with Alina and Cortia's traumatized bodies in tow, whilst Haxel walked almost as if he were in a daze.

Oh thank God, normal people, Annie was about to say. That sentiment didn't hold when Sal approached her and dumped Alina's body on the ground in fatigue, much to Annie's shock and concern.

"The fuck-! DON'T JUST DUMP HER ON THE GROUND LIKE THAT!"

"Fuckin... what? What do you want from... me! She's fuckin... heavy!" Sal protested, heaving gasps of air from both lack of fitness and exhaustion from hauling a limp body for hundreds of feet in distance.

Derek slowly lowered Cortia to the ground, letting her body flop across the hard-tiled floor like a dead fish out of water. He was heartbroken at the state of his fiance, but at the same time there was something... morbidly humorous about seeing one's fiance splayed out over a white-tiled floor like a vegetable.

"Heh." Annie chuckled under her breath, though still heard by Derek, who was hypocritically outraged.

"You're laughing at my fiance!" He chided her, receiving a 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' shoulder shrug from Annie, who stared him down in subtle contempt and loathing.

"And you brought a pirate armada shitstorm to our doorstep."

Derek had literally nothing to counter that with. Annie sighed and turned to look at Cortia, Alina and Haxel.

"How am I going to assess catatonic patients?" She asked them, much to their confusion.

"I-I don't fuckin' know!" Derek exclaimed, increasingly distressed at the state of his loved one.

"That's what we brought them to you for, Doc!" Sal accused Annie, who raised her palms up in a peace-making gesture.

"Fine, fine. Let me take a look."

Whilst Annie was doing boring medical shit with inconsequential persons, Wataru and Elliot were in another part of the ship- scavenging for dropped trinkets and other items from the recent battle. Whilst the bodies had been cleaned up, the myriad of blood, gore, dents, and left-behind items remained, as the near-entirety of the crew almost immediately surged for the terrarium to celebrate their victory. Discipline was an on-off switch on this ship, and it depended entirely on the orders and mood of the Captain, which was absolutely batshit insane in retrospect, but seemed completely sane and reasonable to the crew of the Argonaut, who had practically and collectively relied on their Captain's instinct and leadership for thirty whole years (both literally and through folklore and social reinforcement).

Wataru, who was usually a more naive and innocent soul, was only roped into the scheme by Elliot because he convinced her there would be unique and reliquary keychains and artifacts on some of the SCR fighters' weaponry and in their pack bags, gaslighting her into believing that these third-world militiamen were just as stylish as the Matlo Brigade.

"This place looks like the aftermath of a horror movie," Wataru mumbled nervously, unsettled greatly by the blood and gore spread amongst the halls like a painting gone awry. Elliot was deep in search of advanced weaponry, as he was working on a blueprint for a potential Dark Matter rifle capable of piercing even Achilles Series armor. With that kind of weaponry only available to the Argonauts, every close-combat battle would be won before the boarding even began. 

He felt a moment of deep gratitude for the Captain of this ship, who authorized its creation when Elliot pitched it to him. This wasn't legal AT ALL by any standard of any nation in the entire galaxy; but Hawkes had only authorized it because he intended to show the ruling class in Canaris these inventions, to get a permit, law and patent to use them in future battles.

He recalled this very short conversation about the questions of legality that Elliot had for Hawkes...

"I won't get killed for building this, right?"

"You'll get killed if you don't build it, is that good enough incentive?"

Elliot knew the Captain was joking, but with his seven-foot demeanor, scar-scattered body, and constantly-searing eyes, it was very difficult to take a dark joke from Hawkes lightly.

"I simply can't believe you can create such a weapon." Hawkes said coldly. "It took fifty-five, once-in-a-century geniuses to create the blueprints for the first Dark Matter Reactor and Quantum Positioning Relay. You... expect me to believe you can follow that precedent and craft a portable weapon with that kind of power? If it gets broken, does it create a 100 million mile explosion radius?"

"No, I think I can take it down to just 20 million miles."

Hawkes stared him dead in the eyes, and Elliot cracked a grin.

"I'm joking. Yes, I can find a way to neutralize the possibility of collision entirely."

"Right. Well, when we get back to Canaris, you can get a trip to the Tylahar Research Station 200 million miles away and do your research there."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elliot looked back fondly on the memory, a big enjoyer of Hawkes' conversations more than most others on the ship.

"You said there'd be keychains, but I'm not seeing any." Wataru complained, much to Elliot's annoyance.

"Well, search harder, then!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Music: "BAILE DE LA VICTORIA", by IAMTRA$H)

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The crew of the Argonaut and Numia were still enjoying their time in the terrarium, which had gotten even more chaotic, trashed and filled with unconscious bodies lying around the longer the solar night went on. The dancing had become sloppy yet still remained full of passion, even more so in the revived.

Sammy, the Second Officer watching from an elevated floor above the terrarium, was utterly bewildered at how quickly the revived officers got over the trauma and returned to normalcy- completely different from how the Tulpar Crew's revival went. Perhaps it was because they were so used to violence and death that it didn't change their worldview much to return? Did they see any kind of afterlife when they died, or was it just immediate return to life from the point of death to the point of resurrection?

He was infinitely curious at the still-unveiling questions and answers about this phenomenon, but not as curious as he was about the conversation going on in the Captain's Suite- where Hawkes was desperately trying to keep the Tulpar Crew from going insane.

"Hhhh! Hhh! Hhhh!"

Anya was sat in a corner of the room, irises dilated and eyes widened in clear catatonic shock, breathing heavily as if reliving some horrid experiences continually in her head. Curly and Swansea had been restrained by their hands and feet, as they would not stop rabidly and ferociously trying to leave the Suite to track down and kill Jimmy- which they made plentifully clear by the raucuous shouting and screaming tearing out of their throats like verbalized murder.

Daisuke was left staring out the window of the terrarium blankly, his eyes seemingly staring past the hundreds of crewmates on the bottom floor partying.

Hawkes was absolutely miserable. But more than that, seeing how Jimmy had unraveled all of their mental growth in one fell swoop-

CRACK!

He growled gutturally as he felt the radio he was trying to thumb crush under his hand, and scattered the pieces across the floor as he stormed over to an extremely discomforted Caz. 

Please don't kill me, He thought in pure horror, seeing the look of broiling, silent RAGE lining every fiber of Captain Hawkes' body. He had never seen a silent, angry Hawkes in his entire tenure on this ship. Please don't kill me, Please don't kill me-

"RADIO." Hawkes spoke deafeningly at him, and Caz frantically unclipped the radio from his shoulder holster and offered it to the Captain with quivering hands.

"H-Here you g-go, sir-!"

The Captain snatched it out of his hands and thumbed the radio, trying not to crush yet another one with uncontrolled rage.

"LILY."

"Y-Yes, Captain!"

"WHERE. IS. HE."

"Our cameras captured him in the Medical Wing, he was last seen lying on the ground before getting abducted by the SCR-"

CRACK!

Another radio turned into dust, and an even angrier Hawkes was left with a blank mind that only yearned to slaughter millions of lives to sate this all-encompassing tidal wave of Apoplexy.

Looking back at the Tulpar Crew, seeing how broken they were in the moment, Hawkes suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion rush over him. After all the time he'd spent coaxing them to move past the trauma, it was back to square one.

"I...I... can't do this shit right now."

He was tired- even with his superhuman strength, intellect and endurance, he was still human. 

Turning to Caz with a bone-tired demeanor, he issued an order weakly.

"Get them... to the medical wing. Assessments, then to their rooms."

Caz nodded firmly, ordering the other garrison officers on standby to gently escort the four shattered souls to the Medical Wing. Captain Hawkes sighed deeply, dragging his feet to his quarters. On the way there, he was supplemented with another radio by a passing officer, who told him there was a message from Elise.

"Captain Hawkes."

"What is it, cheese-eating surrender monkey?"

"Where are you? I'm gonna beat your ass."

"What do you WANT!"

"The recorded logs for the Tulpar have finished. If you'd like to review them I've sent it to your holopad."

Hawkes sighed, thumbing the radio to respond.

"Thanks, Elise."

"Mhm, no problem Bigfoot."

Hawkes chuckled dryly, turning off the radio and heading to his quarters. He had practically figured out most of the history behind the Tulpar and what happened with the crew on it, but reviewing the logs would give him some more insight into how he could potentially bring the Tulpar Crew back from their mental degradation.

As he walked through the halls, he was considering whether or not to chase the SCR Armada and finish them off so he could kill Jimmy once and for all, and to prevent them from regrowing in strength again.

But... that didn't seem like the right path. Even if his BLACK RAGE was yearning for that choice, he knew the most optimal decision was to head back to Canaris with the Tulpar Crew and finish the mission they were on. And Hawkes had absolutely no desire to risk the lives of his family once again for petty revenge.

Before heading to his quarters, he made a quick detour to Curly's room, dreading to see what state he was in. As he opened the door-

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY."

"I-I can't, Curly-"

Curly was wrathfully confronting the garrison officer standing near the door inside the spacious room Curly was placed in. His face was stretched and contorted in unnatural and withering fury, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that blood was seen visibly running down his fingers and palms. It was a miracle he hadn't fought the officer yet.

Hawkes smoothly entered the room and greeted Curly to calm the tension.

"Hey, Curly."

Curly's face veered towards Hawkes, and seemed to dissipate from the rage for a moment.

"Wh- Hawkes. Hawkes, where is he? Let's kill him, I'll help you. Swansea will help you. Just put us in a room together for 10 minutes, please."

And here came an ultimatum. If he told Curly that Jimmy escaped, it was very likely Curly would hardly be able to recover from this wrath. The alternative...

Was to lie. Lie, for the first time, to his family. The thought of it sickened him to his stomach; he had no issue manipulating foes, rivals, and enemies for his own gain; lying to his family, the ones he loved, was something else entirely.

He couldn't deliberate long, as Curly was getting more and more restless the longer Hawkes stood there. Hawkes silently grit his teeth, despairing over the decision he was about to make.

"Jimmy was shot and killed by the pirates." Hawkes said. "Their boarding pod was exploded by one of our cannons, and his body was sucked out into the void. That's a permanent death."

Curly seemed shocked and highly unsatisfied by that answer, but his rage seemed to die down somewhat, his gaze beaming pure wrath at the ground.

"Lucky little fuck." Curly muttered furiously. "Lucky little... fucking cunt."

Curly suddenly seemed exhausted, crumpling into a sitting position and drawing several heavy breaths.

"...Fuck it. Bastard got what he deserved. No point wasting more thoughts on that scum."

Hawkes nodded emphatically, deeply hoping down that the pirates would torture and kill him so that there was no chance of any encounter with him again.

"I'll tell Swansea the same."

Curly nodded tiredly, and Hawkes left the room with a lump in his throat, waiting for the door to close before he silently cried to himself in the hallway. Lying to family felt terrible to him, as if he'd driven a knife into their back.

As some garrison officers were rounding the corner, he quickly wiped his eyes and saluted them before heading to Swansea's room to break the false news.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkes sat in his quarters, having done what he needed to do for the day and winding down for the solar night; the lights dimmed to reflect the night-time.

He scrolled through the footage inside the Tulpar, reviewing dozens of clips all at once and analyzing them within seconds. At the same time, he scrolled through news channels and media sources about Canaris to keep updated on any breaking news or developing events since he'd been gone. Luckily, it seemed rather tame for the last 10 months he'd been searching, aside from one article that caught his attention.

"'Crew of five disappear from voyager spacecraft after returning from the Hoila Nebula exploration, docks with space station and reveals no passengers onboard'. The fuck kind of horror story is this?"

Sighing, he swiped the article away on his massive, 2D projected interface, continuing to review the footage.

Two months before return to Canaris... he would be doing all in his effort to restore the Tulpar's crew mental states once more. It'd be harrowing, but nothing would stop him from saving them in their entirety.

Only two months.