#TRULY the darkest timeline HOWEVER.

[madefate]

hellaverse crossover for hooty, but it's just a nightmare realm where he stole lucifer's hat & now he's running hell

[diltonsstrangescience]

It gets META???

It’s so frustrating that so many people don’t know or realise that Jughead Jones is actually weird, he is a weirdo, and it’s not just because of that stupid hat - it’s because of the way he mines the real life tragedies of his friends and loved ones for his own personal gain, the fact that he’s died at least 4 times, that there is at minimum 3 of him and you could make an argument for there being 6, that only like 4 of the people he’s ever met have liked him and those 4 people do not include his parents, that he trapped his friends in a perpetual cycle of being 17 because he can’t move on or get over anything, that he was asked to film his high school’s production of Carrie and ended up filming a true crime documentary and that isn’t even half of the weird but true facts about my friend Jughead

[xvysarene]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Prompt: “No, you can't stay here.” Words: ~1.1k Genre: Angst, No Comfort Notice: Some spoiler of Xavier's Myth, Shooting Stars, although not entirely aligned

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

He staggered back, clearly surprised by how your muttered words reverberated loudly in the otherwise dimly lit room. Cerulean orbs searched for yours skilfully, eyes bright as they were when tracking Wanderers in the darkest of nights.

“What did you say?” A hint of disbelief was palpable in Xavier's voice.

You stepped away from the shadow, hands trembling as you struggled to steady them. Despite anticipating this moment, when confronted with reality, you found yourself questioning whether you could truly accept your sacrifice without harboring any regrets.

“I said, no, you can't stay here.”

Revelation dawned on him. Despite Xavier’s frequent drowsiness, he remained inherently sharp. It was one of the attributes that had made him a highly respected hunter.

“How long have you known?”

“Enough time to understand the over-complicated truth.”

Irritation briefly flickered in his eyes. He looked at the thinning veil behind him, clearly cursing the other party that stepped through it earlier. “Jeremiah told you.”

“I was the one who convinced Jeremiah to tell me everything. You shouldn’t kick his ass when you see him again.”

Xavier couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at that. Jeremiah, though physically not imposing, could defeat anyone on mind games. That’s why he brought him along on the mission as he needed a logical partner.

He couldn’t comprehend why Jeremiah had agreed to divulge the secrets they swore to keep between themselves—especially to the one person he had hoped would never uncover the truth.

“Besides, you’re not as secretive as you thought, Xav.” You gave him a small, sad smile. “I guess that's what makes us human, right? Despite not being a normal one, having an aether core-fused heart, or having lived for a hundred years, we still can’t stop ourselves from showing our deepest desires during moments of vulnerability. I used to believe that she was your unforgettable first love or perhaps an ex who taught you a crucial life lesson. However, that’s just me shying away from the undeniable.”

As much as you had steeled yourself for this moment, your vision began to blur, and Xavier was fast to engulf you in his hug. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his lithe but muscular figure, feeling his warmth and further breaking your heart.

He buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath to blanket himself in your scent like he always did.

“That’s not true,” his voice came out shakier than he intended.

“But it is, Xavier. You don’t know how many times you called out to her in your sleep. Or sometimes when you look at me, I can tell that you don't truly see me for who I am in this current existence. You can’t deny this, because in doing so, you’re also hurting her…me.”

You had to force your head up to fully face your light. Xavier wouldn’t let you step away from him.

Gently cupping his cheeks, you urged him to focus on your next words. “Face it, Xav. Your queen and I… our resemblances are solely physical. We’re two entirely different persons, made up of distinct personalities. If she was the reason why you were in this timeline in the first place, you cling to the hope of going back to her one day, don’t you? You wouldn’t abandon her eternity, right?”

His hug tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said after some time, head bowed in shame. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truly, deeply sorry for making you feel less than your worth.”

Despite his painful acknowledgment, you found yourself relaxing, accepting your fate. Xavier's thumbs gently wiped away the tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“But you’re going to be here all alone,” his voice cracked, almond eyes cloudy. “I can’t go back and live peacefully knowing that.”

“If what Jeremiah told me is the truth, I have left you more than once. It’s your time to experience having someone be there when you’re back. This is the time to redeem myself, even when the timeline has gone haywire.”

Xavier shook his head furiously. “We won’t know if the alternative aether core would work. If I go back and learn that I will lose you again and Philos, I would rather stay here with you in the past.”

“You know it will work, that’s why you were so insistent on sending Jeremiah back alone with it, and selfishly waiting at the other end just to make sure it disappears, an indicator that Philos has accepted the aether-core. You know how much Jeremiah wants to go back there, and for everything he has done for you, you believed it was your turn to help him. I can’t take you away from her; it’s not right. It’s not my time to have you.”

“What difference does it make when I’m also willingly leaving you here? You understand that once I step through that veil, we’ll never meet each other again in this timeline.”

As if aware of its existence, the veil dimmed. You eyed it wearily, realizing that the swirling vortex of electric blue and silver had turned almost transparent.

“Xavier,” you sighed when he cupped your hand, reveling at the contact, “we both know that my time in this realm will end, I can’t be immortal here. I would rather face the certainty of our eternal bond in another dimension than linger in the fleeting confines of this world.”

You placed your fingers against his lips, silencing his upcoming argument. “You do realize that if you abandoned me in the future, I would despise you, don't you?" you made a playful comment to lighten the mood, but he was miserable. Filled with guilt and disappointment that he couldn’t control the situation.

You guided his head down to meet your lips halfway. As both of your lips touched in a bittersweet embrace, a silent farewell woven into each tender touch. The palm pressed against his heart felt its rapid beats.

“Goodbye, my light. Be happy,” you whispered those words to his lips.

Xavier should have known that whenever you were around, his caution melted away. That was his greatest weakness. He registered the force that caught him entirely off guard a second too late.

Xavier reached out his hand, losing momentum. “Y/N! Wait—!” he called out, voice tinged with urgency.

As his body was hurled into the closing veil, it snapped shut, swallowing his unfinished words. Sobs wracked your body, each wave of emotion sent your body crashing to the wooden floor.

Moonlight peeking through the windows cast its glow upon the intricate gold of the gigantic frame before you.

Where the veil had shimmered moments before, there was now only emptiness, revealing a cold cement wall that stood as a cruel reminder of the end of a chapter you could never revisit.

While seemingly nearly empty every night, a profound silence enveloped Philo Flower Store differently. Vibrant blooms began to wilt, their once lively hues fading into desolation, while the lush vines that once cascaded down nearby buildings now curled and browned.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[metalmewtwo-kxb]

The Darkest Timeline (part 1)

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

The night was chilled with the air of an early winter, and the territory surrounding the facility was dark and silent. All except for the odd murkrow and noctowl it seemed. The murkrow especially squawked its protest as it sensed an intruder entering the forest and yet, when said intruder actually approached…

…the bird pokemon were silenced as well.

Small red lights floated around a bizarre angular creature like satellites, tracking both the murkrow and the noctowl as they backed away and fled. Others likewise joined the thing, as if to confirm the threat was gone before their master visibly melted into view from the dark shadows behind them.

Her movements made no sound as she stepped out into the moon’s half-light, lifting her head and observing the sky through the canopy. Her fur only faintly shined, as though it were a stark black void that swallowed any kind of glowing speck. It suited her well in evading the detection of the enemies she perceived, with or without her psychic powers.

Even the facility drones wouldn’t be able to spot her now.

With a twitch of her ears and a flick of her tails, she ordered the strange floating pokemon to stand down and put their satellites away without speaking a word. In spite of their insolent yapping, she decided the bird pokemon who flew away were no threat nor her enemies, seeing as they stood down first. But not all would be that way. Certainly not. Particularly not the ones that lived inside. And of them, there would be many to call her enemies.

As it was, merely four of her little companions were fully formed and currently idling about as they waited for her next order. The rest were scattered like specks of sand in the subtle wind, as cold and black as herself. Ominous in presence to others, yet comforting…but only to her. Among that sand there were now the equivalent of dozens, perhaps over one hundred of these strange beings floating and shuffling in wait as she went looking for the origin source of the energy she reclaimed to use for making their cores. Or, “hearts”, as she chose to call them. It didn’t make the things truly living, but it did make them thinking and obedient. Which was useful.

And the more source energy she could collect…the more they could multiply. That was exactly what she wanted.

Full control of a completed ally, to achieve total erasure.

Erasure of what exactly, only she seemed to know. But this facility was the next step. If her depths of research were still correct along with the keenness of her psychic insight, the next remnant of the source energy was here- at a hidden base lying within the dense and more isolated forests of Johto.

She doubted her “old friends” were here, in spite of their connection to the humans who called themselves Team Rocket. However…

She took no less pleasure in looking forward to their complete and utter downfall.

Standing straighter, the black-furred pokemon raised and held her arms out to either side of herself to focus, and her tails swished in unison. Her thoughts latched onto both the psychic images of the facility’s inner room and corridors, as well as the entirety of her companion group and their pieces. This way, no one could possibly stop them from entering.

‘Transfer.’

They all vanished in an instant.

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

(To be Continued)

Part 1 | Part 2 (tba)

[phoenixduelist]

There was something I couldn't really understand about Rozy, in the main timeline this blog builds towards.

She originally went back to the Habsburg Empire to DIE. To finally kill the man responsible for her suffering, for stealing her family, her past and future, to not bear the burden of traumas, and to finally not owe people/her family her life which was a nightmare. Instead when she killed the Emperor, they turned towards her again and asked her to lead given by her history, both law and blood making her the next rightful heir. Rozália simply doesn't have that kind cruelty in her, to turn people scared, weaker, in need of guidance, protection away. She knows she can be a source of comfort, a force to protect, the most valuable ally/asset and the greatest terror one can imagine as enemy. She has everything in her that makes her a an extraordinary leader from charisma, intellect, compassion to some degree, capability to make the difficult choices and live with them, knows how to appeal, play people without truly trying or lying. She's a natural in politics as much as she is in fencing.

Only: she wanted none of this. She has always been suicidal, but her pride prevented her from allowing anything less than glorious to finish her. So she waged the freedom fight. She didn't die during it. After the people were even more unshakeable about the crown resting on her head and Rozália simply couldn't point at an another person to say pick them instead, they will lead you as great as I would've. As there was none. Therefore she reigned for 30 years. 30 years of relative peace, prosperity in every aspect possible.

However, she never married. And for so long I couldn't exactly pinpoint WHY because she was more than capable of understanding where this road leads if she doesn't. She always saw three steps ahead of everyone, ahead history itself, there is no way she would've been blind to the consequences of this lack of action. Ruin. Foreigners invading again and reasserting their rule. Revenge for the descendants of those following her. The utmost tries to erase her from history, from memory. Revoking her every order, reverting all progress.

Why she still willingly chose this path then?

It circles back to her desire to die after arrival. She was denied rest, escape she yearned, she needed and instead thrust into being charge of now even more fates. And the sure way to solidify what she had done, what she had to do was by giving herself to man with influence she didn't love. To lay under him and bear a child, boy, preferably. And Rozália was not only incapable mentally, but part of her grew to despise, resent the nation that not only robbed her death but now tries to force her into a situation like that to secure their own survival over her suffering. She refused to be in that position again, to be used, to be an object, to be controlled, to be brushed aside, to be reduced to the second or none in authority when the independent kingdom existed solely because she chose to rise to the call. Rozália subconsciously knew her decision will cause unspeakable destruction and suffering of millions from the moment her heart stops. And she didn't care. Perhaps in her darkest even thought that's what they deserve for trying to push, guilt her into subjugation. Therefore when she died, so did the whole Kingdom of Hungary.

One day, she simply told Fate “No.” & when it threatened with the consequences she only laughed bitterly “Everyone I've ever loved and called family will be dead by then. Lives besides and after them are no concern of mine.”

[unohanabbygirl]

What would have happened to Osferth if Luke had died? Would the fates have brought him back to Luke’s family and given him a happy life? Or would a coin flipped and perhaps Aemond found him and that truly is the darkest timeline.

Honestly, even in this timeline of events Corlys finds his great-grandson before Aemond can due to being on that trail for years prior. Though Luke isn’t there to say “hey grandpa, this is my son.” It’s not that difficult to put two and two together for obvious reasons such as Aemond’s presence at Storms End the night of Luke’s supposed death. But also considering that Osferth is a brunette with eyes very similar to Luke’s own. Plus he’s grown to have a scent similar to Luke’s which is very reminiscent of the sea.

However, it takes way more time for these two to meet considering there are no sightings of fisherman Luke for Corlys to go off of. All he has is gossip that’s over a decade old and his own theories that send him all over the map as Rhaenyra rebuilds and earns herself a very…unhinged reputation. But soon enough he’d find teen Osferth out there on the fishing docks.

As soon as Osferth sees him he knows that’s his mother’s grandfather. I imagine that in this tl Luke dies a few days or weeks after birth due to complications, so he had time to write down everything he’d want his son to know about himself in a journal. His family, friends, dreams, hopes, and even little messages of advice and love. Osferth’s read it a hundred times over from front to back so when they meet he knows thats the sea snake.

Because Luke isn’t there to refuse, Corlys brings Osferth back to Driftmark. Lets him get a feel of the home his mother grew up in before things get complicated. The news of what really happened to Lucerys will blow up as soon as it’s out and Osferth won’t know a moments peace from then on. After all, he’s a bastard who’s grown up as your every day commoner. He doesn’t know a thing about nobility and even less about alphas considering he’s been surrounded by nothing but omega’s and a few beta’s his entire life. It’s a recipe for disaster despite having his new family by his side (who he really doesn’t like that much except for maybe Addam, Rhaena and Daeron)

In the end all he wants is to go back to Tyrosh.

However, if Aemond found him then I can imagine things going much worse. Like, really bad.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO EXO COSMIA, CHENG XIAOSHI. 🌑

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION

name / alias: Laur age: 29 pronouns: She/they ooc contact: mikagihazuki on Twitter other characters in xc: Vanitas, Aventurine

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION

name: Cheng Xiaoshi age: 21 pronouns: He/him series: Link Click canon point: Post - Season 1 (updating as I go) app triggers: Death, stabbing, suicide, parental abandonment

personality:

Cheng Xiaoshi speaks as though standing in constant sunshine. He acts on impulses and rides on his emotions like the wind, which is both an advantage and disadvantage. More often than not, Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t take things too seriously. His childish side flourishes. Cheng Xiaoshi likes to tease, and is described to be naive, which admittedly is a trait that tends to draw people to him. Cheng Xiaoshi is confident, a little boastful, and is always thinking of others. He possesses a natural social charm, but beneath all his sunshine lies a rain cloud, in which oftentimes Cheng Xiaoshi’s emotions can get the better of him.

It’s hard to shake Cheng Xiaoshi’s resolve over other people. He is someone who feels for others to the point of carrying the guilt for others, whether it’s truly his fault or not. Cheng Xiaoshi is deeply empathetic, and has an unbreakable determination to go out of his way to help other people, even if it means putting himself in danger.

Cheng Xiaoshi is sensitive. His past is troubled with parental abandonment, as well as being bullied for that. It is said that his parents are dead by some, but Cheng Xiaoshi also has a stubbornness to him, and he refuses to see their disappearance this way. Cheng Xiaoshi, despite mostly keeping a sunny disposition with people, can be deeply hurt by others as well. He pretty much wears his emotions on his sleeve, whether they are bad or good. It is Cheng Xiaoshi’s past that is attributed to how he treats people and views the world today.

something your muse struggles with: Abandonment, loneliness, letting others go, taking on everyone else’s guilt, his impulsivity, wanting to change what he can’t change.

your muse’s greatest strength: Determined, hard-working, an unshakeable resolve, being able to cheer others up, seeing the bright side in even the darkest of times.

history / background:

It was the disappearance of Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents that left a toll on him.

When running into Qiao Ling during this unfortunate turn of events, her family grew concerned for Cheng Xiaoshi’s situation. Despite how concerning it was, however, it was very much like Cheng Xiaoshi to exclaim that he didn’t want their sympathy. Out of all the people Cheng Xiaoshi had come to meet, it was only Qiao Ling that didn’t believe that his parents were gone forever. Because of her being different to everyone else, this sparked their bond, with Cheng Xiaoshi then moving to live in her photo studio named Hero Photo Studio. Despite his sunny front, Cheng Xiaoshi had a troublesome resolution in lashing at anyone who would speak of him and his situation with his parents.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s upbringing outside of Qiao Ling was very lonely. But, eventually, during high school, Cheng Xiaoshi met his second friend, Lu Guang. When then attending university together, it was around this time that both Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang worked side by side at Hero Photo Studio with Qiao Ling, with Cheng Xiaoshi having the ability to time jump into photographs in order to solve different mysteries for different clients. Alongside these different timelines, Cheng Xiaoshi had begun to notice the movement of a killer. There were times when, no matter what Cheng Xiaoshi wanted to do, he couldn’t save the outcome of some people. A single change in someone’s past can break timelines and affect the future.

During Cheng Xiaoshi jumping into these photos, he would connect his consciousness with Lu Guang, who would help stabilise Cheng Xiaoshi with his emotions, putting him in place and keeping him to the task at hand.

Yet, despite all their ups and downs with this line of work, this killer had gotten a hand at possessing someone Cheng Xiaoshi had been trying to save, who then jumped to take her life. This same killer also took possession of Qiao Ling, who then made the move to stab Lu Guang …

powers / abilities:

Photo Dive: When Cheng Xiaoshi claps hands with Lu Guang (or himself), he can jump into a photo. Here, Cheng Xiaoshi is able to put his consciousness into a person involved with the photo, and is able to control them at will. Cheng Xiaoshi’s physical abilities will also take over whomever he is taking over. Cheng Xiaoshi is able to perform this ability on his own if he also touches the photo given.

Shared Consciousness: Cheng Xiaoshi is able to link with Lu Guang and share consciousness and communicate with him. This enables Lu Guang to guide Cheng Xiaoshi through the past or whatever time he’s in.

inherent abilities:

Photography: Cheng Xiaoshi is really good at photography in general!

Basketball: Cheng Xiaoshi is also athletic and good at basketball.

items / weapons:

None…!

starting ability: Photo Dive! starting item: N/A

extra: Wooo time travel

discord id: timestudio

[szebastianonne]

Choosing Hyper-INTENTIONAL Fierceness

Life thus far has been a marathon, not a sprint.

Often a lonely road, filled with twists and turns constantly making me question my resilience.

Yet, here I am, not by chance or luck, instead because a Hyper-INTENTIONAL travel, despite all odds. even when I questioned my own abilities and conviction.

At the time, I did not know I was going to be able to identify my relentless strength as my Hyper-INTENTIONAL mindset.

However, even during the darkest days, I knew that something keeps helping me stand right back up on my feet even after the scariest and most painful of the falls I have been through.

This life has been a rollercoaster of dreams, sacrifices, and the relentless pursuit of finding my own space, on my own terms and timeline. I must say, it has not been an easy feat!

Waking up each day with a surge of energy, crystal-clear vision, and an unwavering determination is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. It is no secret that clinical depression, PTSD, and anxiety are always in the race to win the first spot every morning I wake up.

The fear is there, coexisting with gratitude and enthusiasm. It requires an inner reservoir of fortitude to defy the darkness and choose light, morning after morning.

I remind myself of the extraordinary privilege of being alive, having choices, and making decisions that shape my life. It is a luxury - one that in the (relatively) liveable parts of the world we claim to be the ‘free and civil’ world, we take for granted far too often.

Challenges and setbacks have taught me humility and importance of throwing my ego away to recognize and celebrate what truly matters. I am not perfect, far from it, I never will be and for that reason I am committed to becoming a better version of myself at every turn, and corner of life if get to experience and be part of this unique expedition called human-life.

I aim to lay bare my fears, embrace my flaws as I also fuel my fierceness to be more INTENTIONAL than the day before, if I get to wake up with an opportunity to do better once again. I will have lapses, will be overcome with fear, will doubt my choices, and will learn more unpleasant yet valuable lessons and I am as prepared as could be to do the best I can, and then some.

Here's to the journey of 21 Hyper-INTENTIONAL decisions that I will now begin to reveal one by one, in hope that it helps someone out there who feels the way I do and can do this a little easier than I got to.

With my fears, flaws, and fierceness.

XOYOX

-szebastian-

#21Decisions#CTCR#INTENTIONAL

#HyperINTENTIONAL#ScaredButReady

[cosmicangel888]

THE PARADIGM Shifting DF / DM energies of what has held all of humanity in submission are now being broken One aspect that conduits must take on, why one must be prepared, coded, and designed in the unique way we are, for we take on collective broader themes to dive within, and deconstruct and it is not anything any person in superficial ego of wants, needs, thinks they would nor could immerse themselves in and even begin to understand * we are given experiences, for a collective, meaning that I feel the energies which are more like 'storylines' of energetic bandwidths that move through me, for the transmuting ~ and it is not pretty, nor it is what any person could understand nor put into a constructive template for healing, dialogue and then bringing to new light

* to know how to heal, to know the path all walk in, to know compassion, to know the enveloping of all life on earth - you must truly KNOW IT - can you walk in the shoes of those that are in 'underground' and then show how to get out, transcend, heal 

Why conduits are faced with all energies - there is no cut off or no energy that is off limits - we have to be the inter-face for God, Source, Heavens, all life light potential and how the darkness, darkest can transcend into ultimate liberation, freedom for all 

* the very dense, very dense unhealed DM old 3D templates were the very depths of distortions each is embedded with to varying degrees based on the soul blueprint and arrangement to transcend,

* soul blueprints carry the dynamic to your own unique lineage, systems of stars you come from, and holding to the knowing all carry the divine god seed spark within that is our ever-alignment and will be the only thing that carries you through tower moments of moral, value, integris mis-alignment, deconstructions, however due to the earthly separative, dogmatic patterning, imprints, entraining, it is a true challenge for any to stay true to the path of self transcension and heavenly embodiment

- why masters and star seeds like myself are brought here for the break up of human collective bandwidths of darkness, matrix encoding of greed, envy, submission of the DF and suppression of the true inner child and creative expression on all timelines causing gross negligence, and de-evolution on a multi-dimensional scale.

The DM templates this week will break ~ eons of holding in controlling dominance over all social aspects of life on earth and we will begin to be reborn into a neutral balanced, homeostasis of all having to very rawly look within and face the corruptions of both DM / DF at a Godly perspective and then bring forth what you choose within you and daily practice to embody anew; 

* open conversations about the era of DM and how it has been felt, projected, known, experienced in our collective and all systems and what is in need of objectivity, compassion, upliftment, healing for the true Christed DM to arise

* open conversations about the era and distortions of the DF and what is felt in every child when the children do not have their mother, their only light source and guidance that is reliant upon intuitive way-showing and how can we uplift and bring balance in new 5D guidance systems of higher learning, exploration, and expression 

* doing quick, fast, cheating, copying, for the quick superficial rise to fame; is that power, is that pure sense of being, self, and does any of false actions to happiness, soulful peace, soulful fulfillment is this what superficiality is?

When you awaken, you cannot take the God out of who you are. None can take the God out of who you are.

None can copy the God in you, nor steal your essence nor take and / or switch destiny's

None of those that say, act, do such, work tirelessly to block, stop the divine in any will break, it will fall, it will be destined for destruction as many are now seeing now - dense karma, bad karma, and all paths will be blocked on any level of what any thinks will be successful - common self love and respect, honour for all life

- that is being divine, sacred, there is a true DM and we must see the false DM to know what the true DM is

~ All DM / All DF have the opportunity to alter course - but will the ego, wounding, and arrogance for greed, taking, controlling, dominating be the breaking of what can be a healing and new ground

~ False people that choose to only break you - will be moved - the DIVINE IS THE DIVINE and I will be this role model, I will be this energy and I will never stand down; this is my birthright and all must truly understand creational reality - what makes up a human body, mind, health, and all that is - energy does not lie, the people and masks will show you who is lying

* You cannot fool the awakened one - the past energy and past people - they are not true soul mates, not TF, or any other - they are simply corrupt and remain corrupt

- NONE CAN LOVE YOU IF THEY DO NOT LOVE THEMSELVES ~ domination is not love ~ control is not love ~ spell work, voodoo, and schemes to control someones life and how they are seen, known, is not love ~ #calgary

~ I am calling all out for their corruption and how they behave and create false stories, defamation, treatment of pure divine beings placed before you for higher learning and growth - but all chose to control, take, copy my business, and call it theirs, while creating underground systems to fool others, and bring nothing but darkness and ultimate danger, death ~ that which does such, is not in spirituality - are not leaders in spiritual knowing

~ All past voodoo, black magic, now causing mental imbalances, illness, diseases, and harm backfiring to the innocent - all of this was called out 2 years ago; all had infinite chances to offer change, kindness and reparation to bring truth and bring good will - these are not true community leaders

- I call all out and all will be known; for their corrupt community deeds. false lies for none have ever spoken to me; they are not aligned with spirit, not even aligned with their higher self - they have no clue and are not spiritual and do not read energy - they read their own corrupt dark disconnected energy

- all are called JUDGEMENT - you will not have take what is not yours ALIGNMENT is everything - darkness manifests darkness How you look is nothing to what is on the inside - soul, spirit is everything - paying people to say, do, falsify is thievery and corruption

- ALL ARE BEING CALLED OUT - #calgary corruption

- I call you out - all is known.

Your foolery, lies, deception, withholding, greed, scams, plans - you are thieves and now spirit, God is bringing karma specifically to each ~ spirituality leads you to peace, centring, honouring, uplifting, truth, honesty, non-competitive, unity, non-controlling, non-dominating God shows me what is needed to call out what has been done to the heavenly ones offering healing to a planet in need

~ All must break up the past patterns; control DM dominance must be broken - all will break, fall under new energy, and new codes, balance, fairness, and flowing for healing of eons of subjugation and suppression of universal law, karmic rules, and DF voice for all peace to all

The DM on this planet in general and in over-all is in need of taking a backseat for deep healing

The distortions and how much power we as a collective have simple given over to most of what is corrupt, even the most upright man, being blackmailed for swaying, for the levels of corruption feed through every portal of social services our planet - that is NOT OK

What is a true DM ready for ascension and ascension leadership, new earth look like, feel like embodies?

* aligned, sacred, understanding and living in sacredness of all life, compassion, devoted to the evolutionary growth, exploration, expression and experience of ones family and legacy of such heavenly alignment

* honouring of earth, stars, and all breath held therein, devoted to services to the human, services to the earth and stars - unity, oneness, and release of all ego, misogyny and dominance or controlling of anyone, or any thing,

* release of what power means - and begin utterly again - power is a soulful experience and is not 3d understanding of power - power is creating - not destroying

* truth of all timelines - who you are within all cycles of growth and escalating with positive enlightenment Historically, there has been the ignorance and non-existence of DF anywhere in our social leadership make-up and this is seen everywhere; the separation of spirit, alignment, intuitiveness, inner guidance, and nourishment of compassion is a hard find

THE TRUE DIVINE MASCULINE is a divine service & aligned not false, masked, and corrupt to the divine ~ All are seeking alignment of sacredness once again - it is never easy, we must see what we have manifested and desire anew - we are altering all 3D paradigms and requires we call judgment and call forth anew.

self worth

Self value

self honour of all life

- while the dominance and oligarchy, better than less than, and fear-based for control is everywhere top heavy and bottom saturated in poverty and never being heard, seen, nor justice in any way - on a whole, we are all in deep need of a planetary time of silence and truly go within

- for there will be grand global rumblings this week for all DM to face themselves in the mirror and seek what is means, feels, is experienced as whole, christed, soulfully awakened and then one-by-one, sort out the wounding - 

Blessings for human service,

Blessings for the balancing of our collective

Blessings for the sweet, kind, balanced ones,

A true DM would never ever try to suppress his mate

A true DM would never work from controlling, scams, schemes, spell work and reputation

These are 3D false patterns and wounding and needs to be broken - God cannot be fooled

- Words mean nothing - when what is within is what God sees'

God is, Light is Work with IT or be brought back in the wounding - one way or another - all return to GOD,

GOD LOVES ME

A sweet ride when you choose it,

Joanna

More on Creational Realities; Paradigms Shifting of Consciousness ~ Perfection of the Divine Plan for all life;

For private sessions, webinars, classes or consulting

~ Email me at

JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

DONATIONs; PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

[halfbakedspuds]

Spoilers for my book, btw.

In Adrian's darkest timeline, he never developped the survivor's guilt that drove him to flee Callisto out of fear that his very presence put what remained of his family in danger. In this timeline, he would've hardened his heart to what happened, and become a merciless player in the Callistoan game of clans, cutting down all the great leaders like Anat Növarr to solidify clan Castellan as a force to be reckoned with planetwide. Without meeting Lyanni to show him that cutting himself off from others is a mistake, he grows into a bitter man, estranged to even his own siblings despite constantly working with them. The bigger problem, though, is that he is very much a case of 'the right man in the right place' in the story, and without him on Kradoma, Lyanni Sverik dies a slave in a coal mine, the IUC will never fathom what they find under the city of Utraz (probably won't even have a reason to look there), and thus the Kradoma Garrison no longer have either of their problem solvers and the Shadow of Luna wreck is never found or it's cargo recovered. Humanity is never warned that a plot stirs in it's internals and thus when the council invades Earth we have exactly no ships in the inner sytemd to help stem the alien tide, and so Earth falls permanently and humanity is exterminated by the trillions, with Callisto being one of precious few worlds that survive. The GC will inevitably win the war instead of the Coalition. In conclusion: Adrian is somehow even more of a scheming bastard and humanity is gefok in this timeline.

Lyanni's darkest timeline is remarkably similar to the main one up until December 26th, 2621. In the main timeline, the capital is attacked, and a shell lands right in the middle of the Year-end ball. Adrian is standing right next to where the thing lands and notices that it's labelled as a Biohazard. He reacts immediately, yelling at everyone to either get out or put on a mask, and Lyanni (recognising that she is truly out of her depth for once in her life) flees the scene. Later on it's revealed that her species is immune to the virus the bombs released,and after a harrowing encounter that almost ended with Adrian shooting himself, they realise that he and a handful of humans are also immune. In her darkest timeline, however, she doesn't run, and instead sticks around to ask where she can help. While still basically next to the cannister, it opens up, and in a panic, Adrian tears off his mask and gives it to her, then submits himself to execution and cremation for fear of being infected and spreading the plague. Without Adrian to temper her decisions with empathy, a now devastated and grief stricken Lyanni takes over as an IUC Praetor and starts putting more and more lives at risk with ever-enboldening plays. Due to her ruthless nature and unhealed grief, she'll probably kill Wilhelm instead of being the one to give him the benefit of the doubt, and where the entire planet pledges themselves to her rule in the main timeline, now they'd probably want anything but being ruled by someone so merciless and ruthless, and thus a divided Kradoma will become slaves of the GC. That's if she even lives that long, there's a high chance of another Praetor killing her for her actions, let alone one of her own people.

Question for the writers out there: Who would your protag be if they went down their darkest timeline? (Assuming they aren't already in their darkest timeline, in which case, who would they be if things were better?)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

The Darkest Timeline, Part 3

When the time finally comes to release Lena from the healing tube, Kara waits anxiously as the fluid drains. When she'd emerged from a similar tube after fighting Reign, she'd woken immediately, and she hopes with bated breath that the same will be true for Lena.

It isn't.

"Life signs are holding steady," Brainy announces, reading the influx of data on his digital pad. The information serves as cold comfort as Lena's head lolls limply on her neck, no longer supported by the buoyancy of the water.

"She isn't waking up," Kara points out needlessly.

"Yes, that is to be expected," Brainy responds. "She will likely remain unresponsive for some time yet as her brain tissue continues to rebuild itself."

Swallowing thickly past the lump that rises in her throat, Kara carefully works her arms under Lena's body, lifting her reverently from the tube. She installs Lena on a nearby medical cot, covering her with blankets to ward off the chill. Kara brushes strands of wet hair from Lena's damp forehead with trembling features, searching for signs of wakefulness in spite of herself.

After a moment, Alex hands her a towel. "Here," her sister says. "Let's get her in some dry clothes."

Together, they get Lena dry and comfortable, all the while studiously ignoring the deep bruises beneath Lena's eyes, and the hollows in her cheeks. Lena's skin seems paper thin, her fingers bony when Kara finally sits and takes one hand in both of hers.

"She's strong," Alex says before she leaves, resting a hand on Kara's shoulder. "She's going to pull through."

Kara nods, but knows in her heart of hearts that she won't truly believe it until Lena sits up and tells her herself. She stays there the rest of the night, leaving only when her alarm signals the start of the work day. Before she leaves for CatCo, Kara bends low and presses a kiss to Lena's forehead.

"I'll be back later," she promises.

As the days pass, Kara follows the same routine. She goes to work, she returns to the Legion's ship. Somewhere in between people remind her to eat and shower, but thoughts never stray far from the friend lying comatose in the infirmary.

One day, the routine is broken not by Lena waking, but Andrea calling out Kara's name in the bullpen.

"Kara!"

Kara straightens, pasting on an expression of interest. "Miss Rojas."

"My office."

Kara follows Andrea inside, and swallows thickly when her boss closes the door behind her, sealing them in alone.

"Is anything the matter?" Kara asks, istantly on edge.

Andrea takes a deep breath. "Thus far," she begins, "I've been loathe to acknowledge our mutual friendship with Lena. Largely because I'm not entirely sure what she sees in you."

Kara ducks her head, fidgeting with her glasses.

"However," Andrea continues, "she hasn't returned any of my texts or calls in weeks, and I'm growing concerned. Have you heard from her?"

Glancing up in surprise, Kara hesitates. "I, uh--"

"I just got back from visiting LuthorCorp to try and catch her, but Lex has informed me that Lena's been on vacation for the past month."

"And... you don't believe him."

Andrea scoffs. "He said she disconnected. Lena does not disconnect. The woman doesn't know the definition of the word. And she wouldn't just go away without saying anything."

Exhaling, Kara racks her mind for anything she could say to discourage Andrea from digging further. Andrea looks at her expectantly.

"So?" Andrea prods. "Have you heard from Lena?"

"Uh... no," Kara says. "Not for a while. But she did mention she was going to be out of touch for a while. Something about a special project."

Andrea's lips purse skeptically. When Kara doesn't say anything more, she finally nods. "Right... well, if you do hear from her, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know."

"Of course." Kara nods quickly, glad to be out from under the magnifying glass.

With one last long look, Andrea steps behind her desk and settles in her chair.

"That'll be all."

Dismissed, Kara can't leave the office fast enough. That night, sitting next to Lena's bedside, the weight of Andrea's concern weighs on her.

"Please, Lena," she whispers. "Please wake up soon."

---

The alert comes when Kara's in a meeting eight days later. She glances at her phone when it buzzes and bolts from her chair when she sees the incoming message.

Lena's awake.

All she can do is shoot Andrea a wide-eyed look, receiving a solemn nod of understanding in return. She dashes from the room, barely making it to the alley outside before she launches into the air.

She lands on the Legion's ship moments later, her heart pounding as she runs through the corridors towards the infirmary. As she nears, she hears voices echoing along the bulkhead.

"Where am I?" Lena asks, audibly groggy.

"You're on board the Legion's ship," Alex answers. "Don't worry, Kara will be here any minute."

Kara turns the corner into the infirmary just as Lena's brow furrows in confusion.

"Who's Kara?"

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

If Bella was somehow bitten somehow and woke up alone during New Moon, but the Cullens didn't find her (I don't know if this is still 'Edward mercy kills Bella' territory but if it is then maybe her gift knows this and starts blocking Alice) and she became a nomad, would she still do the diet and if so for how long?

This is shockingly in the realm of possibility and not necessarily in the land of Edward mercy killing Bella.

Though there are some dangers Bella would have to avoid somehow for survival.

Bella is Bitten Alone in New Moon

We have one vampire who meets Bella during New Moon and another who with very little difference in the timeline would have run across her: Laurent and Victoria.

In the case of Laurent, he and Bella have a chat, he decides Bella smells delicious and he'll spare her the pain of being slowly murdered by Victoria, and just as he decides to go for it he gets run down and eaten by giant wolves.

Bella survives her vampire encounter.

In the case of Victoria, she never really gets close enough to do damage until the fight between Edward and Victoria and Riley and Seth in Eclipse.

So we have a few ways this could go:

Laurent's a few seconds ahead of Sam and company. He manages to get a good bite in and doesn't crush Bella on impact. He's run off by the wolves and Bella survives.

The problem here is that Bella has now been bitten and there's no coming back for her. It's a tragedy, and the wolves will feel a shared sense of failure and burden that they failed to save her, but she's dead anyway. They have to kill her before she fully turns.

Bella's gift, while powerful, doesn't appear to help in this kind of situation. Though, that said, in her dire need it could suddenly give her the ability to project illusions like we see in Renesmee. Doesn't seem to be how Bella's gift typically rolls, but hey, this is her darkest hour.

Otherwise, Jake could pull his alpha move much earlier in order to save Bella's life. He ignores Sam's order, flees with the turning Bella, and dumps her in the wilderness somewhere with a note from Jake that she must never return to Forks. She wakes up alone, only guessing though not knowing what Jake has done for her, and stares blankly at the wilderness.

If Victoria catches up to Bella, well, it's not looking good. All too likely, Bella dies painfully, and Victoria leaves a video tape of the entire ordeal in the Cullen house for when they eventually return (as they surely will).

Though, that said, the ease with which Victoria accomplishes this and the complete lack of Cullen intervention could catch her off guard. Perhaps... Edward doesn't actually give a rat's ass. That says terrible things about James' needless death, but Victoria's holding this girl hostage. She will die, in the most painful manner imaginable, and the Cullens aren't there.

Victoria might turn Bella out of pity or else turn her as she figures out, in part from Bella, that Bella becoming a vampire is Edward's worst case scenario. However, in that case, it's unlikely Victoria would abandon Bella, so Bella wouldn't be on her own.

Which, I think for this post, makes Jake's alpha sacrifice the most likely path. He dumps Bella's half-vampire body somewhere in nowhere Canada.

Bella After the Bite

Being dumped in the wilderness helps a lot. For one, Bella already has unbelievable control, for another this is Edward's penguin scenario. There is no one else out here for her to eat even if she wanted to.

So, following the diet is easy.

And it's something she'd very much wish to do. Bella sees the world of vampires divided into two types of vampire: the good Cullen vampires who don't eat people and the bad vampires who, well, eat people.

This left such a mark on Bella that she has very little idea of what a vampire even is.

Bella would be horrified at herself if she became a bad vampire. In wanting vampirism she wanted the vampirsim she sees in the Cullens. Bella might be miserable and alone, without a friend in the world, but she would be horrified to choose anything other than the Cullen way of life.

At least, at first.

The Return of the Cullens

There's a few paths for Bella after she's dumped in the middle of nowhere.

Alice sees that Bella's become a vampire, an abandoned newborn, and is wandering aimlessly around the wilderness somewhere. Even though Edward has forbidden contact, this is probably enough to motivate Alice who was genuinely worried.

She likely goes behind Edward's back and tries to find Bella with Jasper and possibly the rest of the Cullens.

Edward, of course, is still in Rio being a miserable saint for leaving precious human Bella.

Eventually, they manage to find her, and there's a lot of miscommunication, very hurt feelings, and heartfelt apologies even from Rosalie because look what happened to this poor girl. Though they each, either reluctantly or more enthusiastically, agreed to leave this was not what they had in mind.

Bella forgives them quite readily, as she did in canon, because she has the self-esteem of a thimble. The Cullens are awed and very grateful, Rosalie would never have forgiven them for this.

It probably takes them both a) a while to decide how best to tell Edward and break the news to him b) a while to get a hold of Edward because he's ignoring all their phone calls.

Eventually they do, it's a shit show, for the purpose of this post we'll say he does not mercy kill Bella. He might actually be feeling too guilty for that. Instead he grovels on the ground constantly, begging Bella's forgiveness, and refuses to enter a relationship with her because he's unworthy.

This undoubtedly upsets Bella, because she's also unworthy and Edward knows it and doesn't love her, but that's not the point of this meta.

In this world, the Cullens keep Cullening after picking Bella up, Bella's adopted into the fold and made Edward's twin sister due to looking the most like him (which, of course, makes them look actually incestuous in high school to add to the Cullen mystique).

With the support of the Cullens, living the Cullen lifestyle, and having the control that Bella has there's no question of ever leaving the diet.

Bella stays on the wagon.

Bella Seeks Out the Denali

Alice is successful and doesn't see Bella's future for whatever reason. Edward will be so proud. Bella is left alone in Canada to eat moose.

Eventually, Bella decides that however great being a vampire is, she's lonely and miserable. She wants companionship.

Well, obviously the Cullens hate her, so even if she could find them they probably never want to see her again. But what about the Denali?

Bella's already in Canada, she could head over to the Denali National Park in Alaska, and surely the least she could do is actually introduce herself.

Of course, the coven sounds blonde, hot, aggressively female, and very intimidating. Tanya's history of wanting to bang Edward has Bella feeling very small and worthless. More, the Cullens may have told the Denali all about how stupid and ugly Bella, Edward's current human girlfriend, is and they've all laughed at her.

However, Bella's so desperate for companionship, for some connection back to her old life, that she goes for it.

She makes it to Alaska, wanders around until she eventually finds the Denali coven, and introduces herself. The Denali are weird assholes, but Bella's so oblivious she actually doesn't notice.

That said, they've had their brush with the law, and Tanya doesn't want a newborn running around by herself. Eleazar also gives a truly pompous, awful, speech about compassion to their fellow man. It's unbearable, Bella finds it charming.

They take Bella in, she can be the dark-haired sister. Her control is so good the three single ladies quickly take her clubbing and encourage her to sleep away her troubles with human men.

Bella quickly finds that, when you're on the vampire end of the equation, the relationship with human thing is kind of gross. These people smell like food, are squishy and overly warm, and have the substance of tofu.

Bella feels even worse about her relationship with Edward.

She sleeps with human men anyway so that the Denali sisters won't judge her/will think she's cool.

They're so proud of her.

Regardless, Bella stays on the diet as the Denali follow the diet. She will likely have a few accidents with her human lovers, and will be inconsolable, but the coven will be there to offer comfort and help her get back on the wagon.

Bella stays on the wagon

Bella's Low Self-Esteem Wins and She Becomes a Hermit

Bella can't return to Forks and she's so ugly, stupid and boring that even though she's a vampire if she met anyone new they'd realize how ugly, stupid, and boring she is.

Better to just forsake society altogether and live with moose.

Bella's able to do this for quite a long time. Years even. And it's... fine. But her life has no purpose nor any direction to it.

She becomes tempted by society. How many years has it been? Has the world changed since she left? Has Forks changed? Is Charlie still alive? Is Renee? What about her classmates?

Bella starts travelling and visiting human cities and, thanks to her control, she does very well.

However, it's very likely that one day she'll slip, she takes her control far too much for granted and all it takes is one mistake.

And that's where Bella starts getting into trouble.

She's horrified at first, of course, and that likely doesn't break her. She gets back on the wagon, but the second time it happens...

There are no consequences to her breaking the diet. She has no companions, no one cares. Why is she living in constant agony, every single day, for people who will one day die anyway? Why is Bella choosing to suffer?

As time goes on, as humans start to mean less and less to her and all the humans that she knew when human herself are dead, Bella starts forgetting the reason that the diet seemed so vital to her existence.

At one point, it stops meaning anything at all, it's just Bella pointlessly choosing to live in agony.

Bella falls off the wagon.

TL;DR I think it'd take a while, at least ten years, but if she becomes a solitary nomad, it would inevitably happen.

[akillysheel]

INFECTED.  ( PROLOGUE )

Summary:  When Leylan goes up in flames, it gives Simon Krit the mental fortitude to cut ties with his abusive father, seemingly for good.  However, when they reunite some time later it goes about as well as you’d expect.

Warnings:  Emotional manipulation, mental abuse, some mentions of self-harm/suicide.

A/N:  Simon is the other side of the Kip/Basil coin that I’m keen to explore.  He’s my favourite of this little cluster of my cast and I felt inspired to write something proper for him first!

Simon slides his closet door closed before huddling in its darkest corner.  He’s a large man, six foot three and lined with a flattering layer of muscle, but he feels as small as a mouse as he hides amongst his coats and dress pants, a kitchen knife clutched tightly in one trembling hand.

He’s never been a particularly patient man.  Waiting for a radio broadcast to provide him with further guidance is as painful as waiting in traffic when he’s already running late.  Still, he isn’t about to take his chances in the chaos that’s unfolding in the streets.  In a twisted way, he’s lucky that this entire debacle started on a Saturday, when he and the children he teaches are at home.  Some of them may be little snot-nosed brats as far as he’s concerned, but he hopes that they’re all safe and sound;  that he’ll see them all on Monday when this unprecedented mayhem blows over.  He’ll even forgive Marcel for forgetting his homework for the thirteenth time.  This might be about the only valid excuse he’s ever had to skip an assignment.

Something crashes outside, cutting the thought clean in two.  It takes Simon a moment to realise that it’s the sound of a rowboat hitting the pavement, wood splintering upon impact.  He doesn’t want to think about the wet splat sound that accompanied it.  He refuses to believe that there was a person in there.

The radio on his bedside table crackles so suddenly that it prompts the grip on his weapon to tighten, black knuckles turning white with strain.  His pulse flits across his tongue like lightning, temples thrumming with the dull ache of adrenaline as he tunes in, desperate for advice.  Even through the door, the crackled demand is clear  -  and disappointing.

                     This is a public service announcement for the civilians of Leylan.                                                   Do not leave your homes. Barricade yourself in the most secure place available and await further instructions.

That’s it?  The thought starts small but it echoes.  It bounces off the walls of his skull and grows five times its size with every timed ricochet, until it’s the only thing he can hear.  It feels as if nettles are growing inside of his heart, chest prickling with anxiety.  He’s always known that he’s alone in the world, but this time it feels different  -  as if he’s truly its only occupant.  A helpless thing in a crumbling timeline;  a tiny ember of light in a world that’s quickly drowning.

From deep within his memory, he hears his old university counsellor speak.

                                  And what do you do when you feel helpless, Mr. Krit?                                                                                                   Drink a lot?                                                                                                                 No.                                                                   Make jokes until I feel better?                                                                                                    No, Simon.                                                                             …I guess I garden, doc.

Something tells him that gardening won’t be an option in the foreseeable future.  If they haven’t already been trampled by the beasts unleashing havoc outside, he can see his loyal plants’ health taking an impromptu nosedive.  A shame, too, for he’s been cultivating these same flowerbeds for decades now.

He’s jolted from his thoughts by a steady vibration.  It takes longer than it should for him to realise that it’s his phone.  The idea of someone calling now is ridiculous, borderline comical, and he raises the device with what can only be described as an annoyed smile.

The name on the display makes it fade.

                INCOMING  CALL  ➡  DAD.

Simon groans audibly.  He’s been dodging this man’s calls as often as he can ever since he made his way to university  -  and that was three-hundred-and-something years ago.  The decline button has never looked quite so big and blue before.  Pretty.

It wasn't as if avoiding him was a joyful endeavour, either.  Simon remembers the attempts to pull away from his father like most do their first brush with public speaking, or a really bad dentist appointment.  Despite the way the man had belittled him for his entire childhood, he still felt intense remorse for leaving the cantankerous bastard behind.  Guilt had followed him around like a greedy shadow.  In the end, it had chewed him up and spit him out directly into the university counsellor's office.  He still doesn’t dare to think what might have become of him had she not been there to help him work through his murky childhood.

His thumb hovers over the decline button, his lower lip drawn pensively beneath a sharp canine.  It’s astounding what a mind can tune out when faced with a greater threat.  He tries not to think about what it means to be more afraid of a phone call from his father than he is impending doom.

Just press it, his mind urges.  Just press it and be done with it.

But he can’t.  Even now, even when he’s been told by friends and doctors and past lovers that it’s okay to let go of the people that hurt him, he can’t help but sympathise with his old man.  He’s all alone.  It may very well be his own fault, but it doesn’t change it.

With a frustrated huff, Simon clicks ‘ACCEPT’ just before the tone dies.

“Dad?”

“Oh, thank Florence.”  He actually sounds a little relieved to hear his voice.  “I thought you might be–”

“I’m okay,”  he assures, uncertain why he feels such a responsibility to do so.  It isn't as if he's ever taken that much interest in him before.  "Are you?"

"Of course."

There's an awkward silence.  It's something that Simon is all too accustomed to, for his dad has never had much to say to him unless he's criticising his life choices.  Whatever he’d wanted to do, it was never enough to satisfy him.  The line crackles ominously.  There's a muffled scream on the other end that chills Simon to his core.

"Son."

Simon grits his teeth.  Here it comes.

"Please come home."

“Uh... huh?“

Well…  that was unexpected.  It shows in his prolonged silence, words evading him.  It’s all he wanted to hear, four hundred years ago.  Now, he’s torn between bittersweet relief and haughty chagrin.

A large hand strokes through his beard thoughtfully, the bristled texture providing some comfort.  It’s always been a way to ground himself in the moment.  There’s always time to think.  It doesn’t pay to be reckless or unwise.

“I don't think that’s a good idea,”  he admits belatedly.  “The radio said–”

“I’m alone out here, damn it.  You abandoned me.”  That all too familiar venom rears its ugly head and Simon can’t stop himself from flinching.  He abhors that such a reaction is still ingrained into him.  He’ll probably take it with him to the grave.  “Don’t you care about that?  At least act as if you do, you rotten child.”

Simon bites back a sharp retort, his tongue pressed flat against the roof of his mouth until he feels it’s safe to try again.  He’s over six-hundred years old and has long since outgrown the ‘child’ title, but his father enjoys spitting it at him all the same.  It never fails to get under his skin.

“It’s not that I don’t care, dad,”  he attempts, hating the way his voice quavers with a vengeance.  It makes him feel as if all the progress he’s made is for nothing--  as if the Universe is indifferent to the good habits he’s fostered.  He should be mad, should be scathing and harsh, but something stops him every time.  His temper is ugly;  the last thing he needs to do is to stoke that fire, even if it’s righteous.  “It’s that it’s not safe out there.  I don’t want to get myself killed trying to reach you.  It’s safer to wait.  I can come see you when all this settles down, okay?”

It’s a sensible response.  At least, that’s what he thinks  -  but Senior Krit thinks otherwise.  He hears that notorious tch, the one he pushes out between his teeth with enough force to spit, and knows then and there that attempting to reason with him further is out of the question.  He’s angry now, and he’s about to suffer the ramifications of his temper regardless of whether it’s deserved or not.

Why don’t you just hang up? I don’t know.  I guess I’m too weak.

“So what you’re saying is I’m not worth the hassle.”  He pauses to scoff bitterly.  Simon pinches the space between his eyes, the beginnings of a headache forming.  He already knows that refuting what he’d said would only make him angrier.  I should’ve hit decline.  Why didn’t I just hit decline?  “Damn it, Simon!  I hope I DIE in this mess!  Then you’ll realise you’ve squandered me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it, boy.  I mean it.  Maybe I’ll go outside right now!  Maybe I’ll–”

“Dad, don’t.”

He resents the knot his stomach has become.  His heart is back to pounding, fresh fear flooding his veins like oil in a bay.  It’s hard to breathe.  The closet walls seem closer than before.  All he can think about is this stupid, bitter old man trundling spitefully outside, waiting for death to barrel into him with the force of a train.  The more gruesome his demise, the better a lesson it serves.  He’s quite certain that even his tombstone will spit vitriol at him.  Here lies Cyrus Krit, the spoiled and the squandered.

Simon tunes in and out of his detestable tirade, a black void consuming his thoughts whole.  He’s heard it all before, but it still hurts;  it hurts even more to realise that, even after everything, he’d still held out hope that his father would change.  

    It’s a pointless affair, Mr. Krit.  Your father will never alter his ways.  He does not care to.                                           Never sounds a little harsh, eh doc?

“... ungrateful, that’s what you are…  a spoilt child…  abandoning your father…  useless, worthless idiot…  if your mother heard about this… ”

Simon’s jaw squares with visible frustration, his head hitting the back of the closet with a quiet thunk.  The phone is lowered from his ear.  Instead, he listens to the carnage outside.  Things are growing worse.  People are hysterical;  stalls are being torn up and knocked over;  neighbours are beating down one another’s doors in an attempt to gain entry to somewhere safe.  How perverse is it that such tragedy is favourable to listening to his father talk?

                    This is a public service announcement for the civilians of Leylan.                                                   Do not leave your homes. Barricade yourself in the most secure place available and await further instructions.

His head spins.  His mind reels.  Everything’s so loud, yet it’s fading out, as if he’s floating further and further from his body.  Nobody’s coming to help.  That thought replaces everything, casting panic and heartbreak out like house guests that have overstayed their welcome.  This is a fruitless fight, his mind states calmly.  Your frustration is purposeless.

Gently, Simon retrieves his phone and holds it close to his ear again.  In a cold, monotonous voice:  “I’m hanging up now.”

It’s satisfying to hear Cyrus’ insipid little rant suddenly stagger to a halt.  It’s as if his words trip over themselves.  The image of him babbling helplessly to himself would fill Simon with righteous pleasure, if he had the capacity to feel anything over the cloying numbness that’s overtaken his him body.  Maybe it’s better this way;  better to be made of unfeeling brick when the world around you is imploding.

“No, d-don’t–”

“Bye, Cyrus.”

Click.

For just a moment, the world is silent.  The bedlam outside fizzles out, and the sound of his phone being slid gently to the other end of the closet is the only noise that fills the space.  Then CRACK it goes as he suddenly lifts his foot and digs the heel of his boot into the screen.  It splinters immediately, tiny shards of glass leaping free.  They remind him very much of himself: shattered but still accounted for.

By the time he stops stamping on it, his phone is little more than dust;  slabs of plastic and mismatched wires scattered haphazardly across the floor, screen ground down to a fine powder.  With renewed focus, Simon pushes open the door and stands up, turning his radio off and laying it face down on the dresser.  The updates he’s been holding out for aren’t going to help him, and he’s surprisingly okay with that.  Just like everything he’s had to do in his adult life, he’ll have to face this mess alone.

With purpose, he draws his curtains closed before perching on the end of his bed.  Scrick scrick scrick goes his beard, fingers rubbing thoughtfully as he considers what to do next with a clarity he’s never experienced before.  It hits him like a train, that he’s never needed Cyrus to do anything for him.  He’s on his own, the same as he’s always been  -  and that is a liberty, not a curse.

I have enough food for about three weeks if I’m sensible.  Power’s not an issue, especially not with the lights being off.  I should go downstairs and collect all my knives from the kitchen.  That thin, fibreglass fishing rod from the cupboard, too.  I can snap it in half and sharpen its point.

Something thumps against the glass of his bedroom window, and Simon stiffens.  It persists for a few moments before it slides down its length, the sound squeaky and slow.  Whatever is out there squeals with displeasure and scuttles away on all fours, its clumsy footfalls harsh against the solar panels on his roof before they grow distant.  The man lets out a short exhale of relief, hands raising until he can dig the heels of them into his eyes.

The windows won’t be a problem so long as they’re closed.  The reinforcements have held firm for generations.  There’s no way they can suddenly be broken now.

He decides then and there that his first point of call is weaponry.  He doubts he can do much to an iju when push comes to shove.  All he knows of them, he knows from campfire tales and little comments Cyrus made in order to scare him into behaving when he was young, nothing concrete.  Still, he gets the impression that hurting--  or even slaying--  one is going to require something with a little more edge than his knuckles have.

He glances over them with a deep breath, eyes following the white tattooed letters on each knuckle loyally.  A N G E R, they spell.  ANGER, he’ll likely always feel.  There’s always been a lot for him to be angry about:  never knowing his mother;  his father’s abuse;  having to babysit some truly rotten kids throughout his teaching career;  his girlfriend of four years cheating on him;  the loneliness that inevitably came with age.  The end of the world is just the cherry on top of his already-smouldering cake.  Why not, right?  The thing’s already singed to hell!

“... fuck me,”  he mutters numbly, standing up and dragging himself to the kitchen.

[cloverpseudonym]

I think so!

In what little bits and pieces of backstory we have for the Wittebane brothers, it's very clear how much the two loved each other. Caleb basically raised Philip from a young age, and was possibly (again it's all speculation) was the one to teach Philip that witches were bad and that they needed to be hunted down and killed.

Then, Caleb disappears. What exactly happened before this nobody can say for sure, but it would have been utterly devastating for Philip to lose his only family, whether he knew Caleb left intentionally or not. And with all of the witch-hating already built into his system, he set out to find and 'rescue' his brother and kill the witch. This also likely further cemented his hatred of witches and crystallized it into a desire for revenge.

In a lot of other stories, Philip would have been the hero, and he thinks he is. Initially, his intentions are pure, to defeat the evil witch and rescue his kidnapped brother, but as soon as his built-in worldview is challenged, he snaps. He's so caught up in his hatred of witches that he can't rationalize why his brother would ever want to be with them.

It must have been quite the betrayal, a cruel hypocrisy of Caleb to raise him to hate witches then run off with one. Not only that, but Caleb's witch wife is pregnant, Caleb ran away with a witch and tried to start a family away from Philip.

Philip Wittebane is a selfish, hypocritical man, through and through. But it's not hard to see where he was coming from, initially, at least.

But this is where the hypocrisy really starts coming through. Witches are evil, magic is evil, but not when Philip does it. Philip is doing it for the greater good, he's doing it because he, and he alone, is justified in his actions because he is doing it to purge the world of evil. The ends justify the means.

And Philip is lost along the way, at least what could be recognized as Philip, anyway. And after a while, spending centuries consuming palismen in order to sustain himself, he loses his body, too. He's not Belos, Belos isn't the name given to the darkest parts of himself. No, that's Philip. Philip's human face becomes a mask in its own right, because that isn't even his face anymore, not when his true form is the beast, the physical manifestation of his corruption and what it has done to him.

His true goal never changes, but his morals change and twist and warp around it to suit whatever he wants to use magic to accomplish. He spends centuries committing atrocities and is able to very easily justify it to himself by saying it's all for the greater good.

And that's not even mentioning the Grimwalkers. Philip isn't even just a witch, he's a straight up necromancer. He takes the bones of his dead brother and uses them to create clones of him that he tries and tries to turn into the perfect brother. But he never succeeds, because that perfect brother never existed.

It's more than likely Philip's perception of his brother was looked at through the lens of nostalgia, he only remembered the best bits, and the worst bits he wanted to avoid. How exactly grimwalkers work isn't explained very well, but what if they never worked because Caleb wasn't ever truly like that to begin with? What if Caleb only put on a brave face for the sake of his brother?

But Philip doesn't care. He wants the brother that cared for him, that loved him, that will stay with him, not the brother that abandoned him to run off with an awful witch.

Caleb did betray Philip! This is practically canon, and although we don't have all the details we can extrapolate a decent timeline of events. And Philip WAS brainwashed by his environment growing up! However, Philip likely had many opportunities to stop what he was doing. He kept upping the ante, he kept pushing further even after his brother was already dead, he kept killing and destroying, even once he had every opportunity to stop.

Philip's true goal was to rid the world of evil, and in doing so he became the worst of the worst because he never allowed himself to open his eyes and see that his own worldview was wrong.

Because he must be right, because if he isn't right then he wasted his entire like for nothing.

I can't tell if by the end of the show he still truly believes in what he's doing, or if he's just sticking his head in the sand and clinging to his beliefs for dear life.

Philip is an example of a person poisoned by the teachings of others, however he is still responsible for his actions. He'll never accept he was wrong, he'll die believing he has a place in heaven waiting for him. And even if his deluded worldview ever cracked, he'd just double down like he always did.

He is horrible, completely and utterly irredeemable. But through it all you can still see that childlike desire to protect the world from evil, even if it is buried under several thousand layers of denial, hypocrisy, and selfishness.

You know all this belos talk made think.

¿Did we finally found a villain that is both tragic and irredeemable at the same time?

Maybe? I don't know.

What do you all think?

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A Loki TVA / Lokane fic. Rating: T.

Part I

Part II

Shine a Light, part III

There are no ominous storm clouds overhead, no wind howling, no black Svartalfheim soil under his boots.

No Thor.

The sun is still shining and, frustratingly although not entirely surprising (the rushed departure considered), he once again finds himself on what can only be Midgard.

Is the tempad damaged after all?

In that case, as miserable as it would be, he should probably count himself fortunate he wasn’t dispatched to an imminent apocalypse.

Gone is the faraway sound of the ocean as he steps into an empty cobblestone alley that might have passed for a medieval city, were it not for the sound of traffic close by and -

“Where did you go, handsome?”

He inhales sharply.

Even with his eyes wide open, trying to take in the surroundings, all he sees before him is her face.

So close to his, he can almost still feel her sweet breath on his lips.

He leans his back against one of the building walls and screws his lids tightly shut, willing the feel of the cool bricks to ground his thoughts.

It proves pathetically futile.

In 2016, somewhere on a different timeline, a variant of him got … together with Jane.

Happily, intimately together.

No matter how hard he tries, he cannot connect the dots from the TVA reel of his supposed fate to even begin to understand how a branch like that could have formed.

It doesn’t help one bit that he’s burning with such all-consuming jealousy, it nearly overshadows the pressing question of why his brother had allowed for such a union.

Dead.

Thor must have been dead.

At that sudden, dreadful realization, Loki is abruptly brought back to reality (whatever that means these days).

Had Thor passed whereupon the replica variant had swept in to comfort the grieving Jane?

The mere idea that a variant sharing his temporal aura exploited her vulnerable emotional state makes his stomach turn.

Granted, the variants in the Void had shared certain characteristics.

Nevertheless, the majority had appeared so entirely … different that, disturbingly, it doesn’t seem implausible for some of them to have been capable of unspeakable evils - living embodiments of his soul’s darkest, most shameful desires.

Even from their brief encounter, the air of the variant who had lost his hand in such absurd manner had sent chills through Loki’s bones.

Could the tyrant have been the one he just met who defended Jane so passionately?

Would he have gotten the wicked impulse to seduce her with a silver-tongue laced with acid honey?

The nauseating image makes him want to turn back and kill him in a most violent fashion right there in front of the white house.

On second thought, unless the variants of both Jane and the metal man were significantly more gullible than the ones of his own timeline, Loki cannot truly believe that they would be fooled to easily.

Thus, the variant was an entirely different Loki. Apparently a better man than he would ever have had a chance of becoming.

Another decidedly unpleasant fact.

However sour the reminder of his own shortcomings in courting affection, he must not let it distract him from his quest.

He has nothing else but the faint hope that his own finest hour on Svartelfheim will be enough to appeal to Thor’s (and in the best of worlds, her’s) unshakable faith in justice, and to convince him and the All-Father to aid in facing the monstrous spawns of He Who Must Remain.

Lest all realities be torn to shreds of unamendable chaos (he suspects).

That the multiverse has apparently caused the tempad to jump between alternate timelines at random is terrifying, but all the more reason for him to exercise greater patience in mastering it to the best of his abilities.

If a child could do it …

He has to gather his acclaimed wits (ha!). Regain a semblance of calm and control. Having let go of so much of his pride, he will not let something as petty as impatience be his downfall.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Her arms around his neck.

The taste of her as she explored his mouth.

Intoxicating sensations both startling new and impossibly familiar.

He tries to shake the hopeless longing and instead follows the noise of what he hopes is a street. A place of information where he can get his bearings.

//

Bicyclists and cars pass him as he walks down a tree-lined avenue towards what looks to be a large park.

He has finally changed his clothes into a clean outfit of tailored pants and a crisp blazer, entirely in black. His raven locks are slicked back to his preferred style, his gait more confident.

Despite everything, his polished reflection in the windows of store fronts makes him feel more centered.

Albeit a thankfully less haunted self than the one who attacked New York in the throes of blinding madness. Deep inside hoping the destruction would either kill him or free him of the nightmare of being reduced to a mere tool in the mad titans plans.

It feels a millennia ago.

At a newsstand, he picks up a paper in English. The langue of this country is not one he recognizes, never having thought to seek further education on Midgardian culture beyond that strictly necessary for his schemes.

Printed at the top of the paper is the year 2015.

So far so good.

Only two years ahead of the events on Svartalfheim. Perhaps it will make his travels easier? He has no idea.

In the park, he finds a secluded corner under the shade of tall oaks and sits himself on a bench.

It does not occur to him to teleport somewhere else on the planet.

It hardly matters.

And so he takes out the tempad, making sure to handle it delicately, and studies the options presented on the small display.

So lost is he in the mechanics, that he almost jumps to his feet, ready to draw his daggers from his pocket dimension, when a man suddenly settles next to him.

Unnervingly close.

To think there was a time when people sneaking up on him had been, well, unthinkable. Besides the cunning woman in black that is.

Turning to curtly ask for some privacy, if you please, all blood drains from his face so fast his vision blurs.

No.

No, no, no.

//

“I know lowering yourself to use our primitive mortal ways of communication offends your delicate alien sensibilities, but seriously Loki, would it kill you to pick up your phone?”

The man sighs, annoyed.

His hair is different than the last time Loki saw him, but other than that, he might as well have stepped right out of a fever dream.

A dream in which he tried to send an arrow through Loki’s eye.

The bow is just about visible in the backpack he sets on the ground between his knees.

Clint takes in the view of the park, posture relaxed but his ever sharp gaze keenly alert to passers-by.

Loki knows that look. Although back then, of course the man’s grey eyes had been an eerie shade of toxic blue and his boyish expression a blank slate.

“Nat has located Dreykov’s lab outside the city. Right now she's trying to talk sense into her sister so she’ll join us, but she’s still under the influence of that blasted drug. I don’t know how much luck we’ll have with her”.

The God of Mischief’s mind has temporarily left his body.

“Of course I personally sympathize a great deal with her … condition,” Clint grumbles under his breath and shoots an icy glance in Loki’s direction.

“If somebody had told me I’d be back in Budapest with you of all people in tow…”

Silence.

“I’m … sorry?”. Loki’s voice is hoarse. His feels like he may start laughing hysterically at any second.

“Yeah, well. We got this far. And I did promise Tony I wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ kill you so, you know … at least until we’ve completed the mission”.

The Avenger’s tone has eased towards a more jovial blend of sarcasm.

“All things considered, I’ll admit you’ve pulled your weight as promised. No offense, 'cause I know you hate his guts, but it's almost like having Strange on the team. And the thing with turning the sniper into a baby goat yesterday? One of the most satisfying things I've ever witnessed on a mission”.

Clint guffaws.

“That said, man, you gotta stop taking off on a whim, alright? Gets on my nerves - and Nat’s, which frankly ought to scare you more. We're going against our better judgement counting on you for the showdown at Dreykov's”.

Loki hears himself mumble his apologies, utterly detached from his own voice and too flabbergasted to even question the hero he tortured for days (did the others call him Eagle-eye?).

“Okay,” Clint is saying. “I’m gonna head back to the apartment. Stay here for a few hours if you need some space to, I don’t know, do your thing or whatever. But be back for prep at five, yeah? If not, I’ll have to tell on you to Fury. Oh, and maybe you can have a look at Yelena? Reverse mind powers or something? If Nat will let you near her.”

He gives Loki a half smile. It’s strained, yet Loki can tell he’s trying.

“This is not easy for me. You know that. I spent weeks before we left convincing Laura you won’t stab me in the back. Literally. But I figured there would be trouble in paradise for you too if things went sideways…”.

Another sigh.

Then Clint slings the backpack over his shoulder and walks away, leaving Loki on the bench to wonder if he’s actually, at long last, going certifiably insane.

A beep sounds from the tempad in his hand. He has been clutching it way too hard again.

He stares at the screen without seeing the numbers or letters that are now flashing in a neat row.

The door appears in front of him.

He stumbles through it as clumsily as if someone had pushed him.

Part 4

[bridgertonbabe]

Darkest timeline question... does Sophie ever share her thoughts with Benedict? (The very dark thoughts) and do they ever have a discussion on why Sophies feeling so low and how he can help? (Maybe leading to an argument or idk) I feel like somehow some truth on how Sophie feels will come out, maybe she wants Benedict to understand her more but like you say he realises it all too late.

No, Sophie never opens up to Benedict about the darkest thoughts.

Early on in her pregnancy when she's willing on a miscarriage but starting to realise she's running out of time, she contemplates on how she could terminate the pregnancy herself. She vaguely recalled talk in the Gunningworth household when she was younger in which some of the maids had discussed concoctions that could be made in order to bring a pregnancy to an end, though she struggled to remember what ingredients would be involved. Her only other solution is alcohol, knowing if she drank and drank and drank that eventually she could lose the baby, and that's what she sets about doing one day when Benedict is out. She gets into his liquor cabinet and starts drinking from the first bottle she gets her hands on - except poor Sophie has hardly ever touched alcohol before and certainly nothing as strong as what she's ingesting. She splutters, choking as the alcohol hits the back of her throat, but she persists, continuing to knock back the bottle with coughing fit intervals. Benedict's housekeeper would discover her before she had finished that bottle, however, and immediately scolds Sophie for helping herself to the master's cabinet. The relationship between Sophie and his housekeeper had been sour ever since Benedict brought her home as his mistress, with his housekeeper largely unimpressed that a maid sacrificed her integrity to become a kept woman, but when she takes a proper look at Sophie, she sees a broken woman desperate to get out of a hopeless situation. She puts Sophie to bed and once Benedict returns home she recommends him to keep his liquor locked up or at the very least stored out of the way. Benedict is confused by such a suggestion, with the housekeeper advising him that ingesting too much alcohol could cause a woman to miscarry. Benedict doesn't understand, saying Sophie would never accidentally drink so much for that to ever happen, but then he is met with a stony silence. Nothing is said between them, but Benedict begins to grow worried that such an accident might have almost occurred while he was out. The housekeeper merely repeats that he should keep his alcohol under lock and key before turning in for the night, leaving Benedict to dwell on the matter. He simply can't imagine Sophie ever doing something like that, could never picture her running the risk, or god forbid even inflicting intentional harm unto herself and their unborn child. He never brings it up to Sophie though he does follow his housekeeper's advice and locks his liquor cabinet.

Towards the end of the pregnancy, Sophie's thoughts circle around the mortality of both herself and her baby during the birth, and again these aren't thoughts she shares with Benedict, knowing it would only upset him. She keeps these dire hopes to herself but would get up in the night to kneel by the window and pray, praying to the stars and the heavens above for the unthinkable. On a few occasions Benedict had briefly awoken and caught sight of Sophie praying, assuming she was praying for health and safety for the impending birth, being none the wiser that the woman he loved was wishing for the exact opposite of that.

The reason why Sophie never opens up to Benedict is because when she had pleaded with him to make an honest woman of her, when she had bared her soul to him and begged him to prevent her greatest fear from being realised, he still refused to give her what she so desperately wanted. Knowing he would never truly understand her, never properly listen, never truly love her in the way she believed him capable of loving her, Sophie shut down pretty much altogether. If he couldn't truly see her in the way she needed to be seen, if he couldn't just relieve her of her pain in the way she knew he could, then what was there left to say to him? If he couldn't take on board her most comprehensible anxieties, how could he even begin to understand the darkest thoughts that plagued her soul?