#this is how you destabilizes your ex

[swervesfirstblaster]

"Traitor! Autobot scum!"

[ampblamp]

AU: Here's How Billford Can Still Win

(part 1: make that triangle miserable)

tl;dr: i want bill to have his ability to live in denial about what he did shattered by several important figures from his past BEFORE he can enact weirdmageddon. this way the yaoi can be messy and toxic (at first) but NOT doomed. it's self indulgent for sure but i'm doin my best to keep it IC as i can 🫡

this first post is just me figuring out how i think things would have to go down on bill's end for billford to have any chance of working out. take my hand. come away with me to my autism world

i'm still figuring out all the details of what would have to change to like. weaken bill's mental defenses enough because he HAS been able to shove his guilt down for so long. i do think everything with ford would be one of the key factors cause he had never connected so much with any of his prior human partners and obviously things souring fucked him up enough to have a turbo breakdown. (i know it's also because of the amount of times the plan has failed but i think he's also feeling rejected by so many humans not liking him lolll)

i think his breakdown after getting wasted at o'sadley's would happen like in canon, save for its repercussions. once bill starts thinking about his mom and everyone else from euclydia around when he's about to be arrested, maybe it would open the door for thoughts of them to keep slipping through his defenses. and suddenly thinking about weirdmageddon and hearing himself and other people talking about it could have a chance of triggering him.

i know personally that trauma can jump in and completely drag you back in time regardless of any logic, and i think him having that kind of episode sooner might be the key to getting him to face that he doesn't want to keep repeating what he did to euclydia because it's never going to be enough to convince the small, small voice in his head saying 'stop'.

because that's just the thing. bill has forced himself down a path of destruction to Prove to himself that its actually for the best to tear down "miserable reality" and replace it with his own vision. his drive and impatience to get weirdmageddon going is BECAUSE he wants to permanently cement that narrative in his mind with the ultimate "proof". because if the narrative fails, not only will he not be able to mentally cope (without help) he'll completely fail the henchmaniacs, who he promised a new home, and look vulnerable and weak, which he's TRAINED them to view as what should be destroyed.

i think the o'sadley breakdown and my proposed worsened repercussions of it would destabilize him, but it wouldn't be enough to stop him. what would push bill over the edge in this hypothetical would be several powerful entities from bill's past like the axolotl, the oracle, and time baby working together to somehow target his mental weak point. cause remember, time baby canonically KNOWS bill's weak point.

also like. To Me. the axolotl and the oracle are people bill was close to and has seen himself in at one point* but they matured and he didn't, and that's why he's SO hostile towards them.

*the oracle being an ex-henchmaniac is canon but i say this about the axolotl because of xolotl. look him up, it'll freak your bean.

alsooooo... ford not being as immature and vengeful as bill hoped he was is probably why bill broke down so hard - because it reminded him of the axolotl and the oracle. all the people who he actually connected with on a deeper level have left because of the same reason. but bill was always too terrified to confront everything he's done, which would be necessary to follow them.

so ends part 1... next, i think i'm gonna try to figure out how ford and bill would meet again (haha). ford is sucked into the portal right after (maybe even during?) the whole o'sadley's deal iirc sooo... fun point in the timeline to play with!

also hopin to draw stuff for this AU in the future :]c calling upon the power of my newly aquired ADHD meds lmao

[joaofelix70]

69 WITH JOÃO FÉLIX | a concept.

author's note: first of all, thank you for reading this and my first story that was boycotted by his ex's fans, lmao (i know joão's flopping here, actually) 💀

many people are not writing for him anymore and that's why i'm doing justice to him, so you're welcome, lol. please, tell me what you think about this work, polite feedbacks are VERY appreciated. i get inspired in the morning and wrote it kinda quickly. really random, but i need to say how obsessed i am with joão being religious, like this gif shows. the way he's crossing himself, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'M CRYING, SOBBING ON MY KNEES AND BEGGING HIM TO HAVE A RELIGIOUS FAMILY WITH ME. also, my requests are open. i'm waiting for you to talk to me there <3

warnings: self-explanatory sex position. +18 content. smut, nsfw without context. plus, he's also fingering you here (our dream 😭).

words: 461.

"holy shit, what a good pussy. i missed it, princesa (princess). i missed you!" his fingerprints wrap in your midst of the hot, overflowing fountain: causing an insatiable thirst, to which no other substance would be able to succumb.

"i always need you so badly, gatinho (handsome). i fucking belong to you!" your whimpers exude despair in the name of pleasure, making joão laugh and his ego to inflate.

"of course you do! all this shit, all this is only mine. fuck, i'm such a lucky guy." your walls tighten and compress his beautiful bones, sending sinful sensations to his area of hardness and dampness. then, you're empty. his tongue curls around his fingers, appetizing you.

"so fucking delicious!" wet kisses are deposited on your neck and boobs: delighting his face on each, vehemently sucking and biting them.

"use my body to show it, joão. i'm yours!" your hands involve around the structure of his cock, lips swallowing the resplendent pre-cum from the head and witnessing it run down your chin. stroking and tasting the testicles, you lift your mouth and enter every inch of it into your throat, scratching his toned tights. your hair is pulled by félix and your head guided to have him deeper, completely.

"yeah! just like that! be the good and grateful girl that you are. i'm so proud of you, princesa." joão's destabilized, moaning in portuguese, echoing your name with his beautiful accent, while eyes are closed. however, he doesn't stop. his saliva spread throughout the shape of your torso, hickeys pigmenting the place below where you're most begging to be touched. his mouth explores your intimacy, painting formats and drawings, like you're his work of art: his nose rubbing your clit and offering continual instigations, the tip of his tongue persistently granting the beg leave in the entrance. so he persists, controlling your greedy movements against his face: firm pressure on your waist.

"let me know when you're close, ok? wanna take care of you!" félix grabs your ass, flattening and reddening your skin. tears are shed over your flushed face, your voice weakened after so many verbal liberations. you hold his dilating dick and slap it on your cheek, teasing it through licks and your light, sensitive touch.

"tell me how much you love me, gatinho. i deserve this for being your good girl who is about to cum on your face." you testify his acts getting intensified: ecstasy, along with sexual spasms, protruding from joão. his head goes back and, at this point, he's worshiping you. you're his religion.

"i fucking love you, y/n. gonna cum in your precious mouth and throat!"

"that's my man who i fucking love! please, come for me and i'll do the same for you!"

[unknownunseenunheard]

Thinking about how so many problems in Star Wars legends were born from Luke being horny

That whole mess with Callista. No I won't go into it, its its own catastrophe

Luke: There's an Imperial Spy in my Jedi Academy

Leia: So, you got rid of them, right?

Luke:

Leia:

Leia: So you got rid of them, right?

Luke: Look, I really wanna stick my dick in Brakiss, so I'm gonna try and convert him

Leia: Luke!

Luke: So, it turns out my ex girlfriend was actually a Sith Assassin all along sent to destabilize my position in the Rebellion. Anyways, she survived me shooting her down on instinct and is back

Han: So, where is she now?

Luke: Oh, I'm pretty sure she's mommy domming your son to the dark side but also I really like holding hands with her and gazing into her beautiful eyes 🥺

Han:

Han: Okay, fucked up mess with my kid aside, *you're married*

Luke: Pwetty Cyborg Milf

The only one was Luke taking one look at a Sith Assassin (yes, another one) engineered to kill him and going 'Yeah, I want her to peg me' (Mara rights)

Bonus points to Abeloth for capitalizing on Luke's whore weakness by possessing his ex girlfriends to use against him

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi JWB! How are you doing? I am a big fan of all your analysis. I have a question for you. How did Arnav after breaking Khushi heart on Diwali and then multiple times when he was engaged to Lavanya decide to put things away and court her? He was flirting with her at every opportunity. Didn't he feel guilty? Also, didn't he feel Khushi might not make the same mistake again as there was no guarantee with his feelings. Thanks

Hello there!

I'm doing great and thank you for your love. It was not easy. Arnav and Khushi spent a significant time walking on eggshells around each other. Their comfort was to snap at each other or tease ease other - they could've even have a civil conversation.

And to be honest if NK didn't show up, Arnav and Khushi would not have courted each other for the longest time (they wouldn't court anyone else either).

With NK showing up it was a PERFECT push in writing that Arnav HAD to act on his feelings for Khushi because there ARE better men around him. Men who make Khushi genuinely happy.

If Khushi did not love Arnav - she and NK would have the cutest relationship ever.

Arnav was not comfortable making a move on Khushi. Khushi was not comfortable having Arnav do nice things for her. Both want each other but also at this point NEITHER even thinks it is possible.

Like it's a forgotten dream. They're somehow exes without being exes?

However sangeet changes everything. Khushi, a competitive woman who is in her dearest sister's wedding ritual, spends her whole day and major performance only around Khushi.

She flirts with him, winks at him, makes a song about him. It's Payal's wedding but she cannot stop thinking about Arnav. And for once, Arnav sees that.

He's not attributing it to what others are - that Khushi is a little crazy and she has a long habit of pulling Arnav's leg and snapping at him given their icy meetings.

Rather Arnav sees that Khushi's attention, in whatever way it is, is completely zeroed on him. And when he calls it out, the fact that Khushi has noticed the littlest things and complains that he does't have his heart open - he questions these very observations and Khushi's attention on him.

It destabilizes her intensely and Arnav steps back, bringing back their familiar challenge ground.

And her performance on Arnav plays a very very important role for their change in their relationship.

Cause what is the song? And why is it intelligently written as 'complains' - he doesn't know how to smile, he is a little mad, he frightens me with his what the, his desi etiquettes are missing, he keeps a lock around his heart (why is she interested in his heart?), please get him married to his laptop and make his office's son in law (so why are you interested in who/what he marries and what relationship he makes)?

This eases their relationship and then they start flirting with each other. If NK didn't come and if a comfortable dynamic of challenges hadn't been established - ArShi wouldn't have come together for a next few months. Arnav wouldn't have asked, Khushi wouldn't have talked.

Most likely they would speak to each other if Khushi's family were to look for a rishta (which ideally they shouldn't) or if the Raizadas came across a rishta for Khushi.

Hmm I'm thinking of a fic now, lol.

Best,

JWB

[hannahmanderr]

Core Collapse ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A star shines brightest right before it collapses and dies. Apparently, Kilaris operates by the same rules. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chaos… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Is it ready?”

Zunje looked up from her scroll and bit her lip. “Um… gonna be real here and say I’m not sure? I think it is.”

“You think?” Pele asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is this not your domain?”

“Well ex-cuse me if this is a little more complicated than your average spell!” Zunje snapped, scowling. “It’s not like anyone’s ever tried this before, you know?”

Kala folded two of his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on the crescent table. “We must be absolutely certain this will work if we are going to attempt it. To do so and fail would be… dire, to say the least.”

“Believe me, I know. Do you know how long I’ve spent going over every little detail here? You don’t have to remind me how important this all is.”

“I still do not know if this is the wisest idea,” Pandora said, frowning at the plain black crown sitting in front of her. “The consequences of attempting this…”

“We’ve already been through all of our options.” Frostbite tapped his claws against the table. “I do not think any of us are fond of this, but we have no other choice.”

“Are you quite sure about that?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despair… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kala frowned as he met Clockwork’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Are you quite sure this is your only choice?” Clockwork repeated. He floated forward and gestured at the simple crown and ring. “There is rarely ever only one option, after all. Time is full of a multitude of possibilities.”

“Yes, but those possibilities are not necessarily for the greater good.” The gray clouds draping off of Kala’s shoulders grew thick and heavy. “This is our only chance to maintain at least some form of control over the prince.”

“A force such as Kilaris cannot be controlled. I cannot emphasize this enough,” Pandora said, her voice equally thick and heavy. 

Babel hummed thoughtfully. “We ain’t trying to control Kilaris, we’re just… you know…”

“Trying to prevent the future the Timekeeper has seen, I know. But we are doing that through an attempt to control Kilaris. I simply cannot fathom how attempting to bind the lifeblood of the Realms to mere pieces of jewelry can end well.”

“We've been over this already. It is our best chance of protecting it,” Kala said. His voice remained even and quiet, but his cloak of clouds continued to betray his sobriety. “The prince…”

“I still say we continue to find candidates,” Pele grunted. “The Heart’s blessing on the prince is weak. I do not think it wise to entrust the throne to someone with such a feeble connection.”

“There aren’t any more!” Zunje pulled another scroll from her satchel and unrolled it. “We’ve sent dozens to try getting the blessing, and they’ve all come back with nothing! Half of them have failed the Trials completely! Pariah Dark is the only one who’s managed to get something at least. Even if it is weak. It’s almost as if…”

“You see?” Frostbite said to Clockwork. “We have no other option. None have presented themselves to us.”

“And we’re out of time, too. Things are already starting to destabilize across the Realms. I’ve been getting completely flooded with comment cards about it! We don’t have time to keep sending people on the Trials!”

For some odd reason, the corners of Clockwork’s mouth twitched upward. “Time is a fickle thing, is it not?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tyranny... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kala rubbed at his temple. “If you have only come to play games with us, then I kindly ask that you leave.”

“I never come to play games with you. The Observants, perhaps, but you tend to have more sense than them,” Clockwork said with a shrug. “I am only here to fulfill my duty to Time. And by that, I mean I am here to deliver a warning.”

The chamber fell silent. Even the metal of Babel’s door stopped fluttering in the unseen breeze momentarily. “A warning?” Pandora asked quietly, as if she was afraid to break the silence.

“About your plan here, yes.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Terror… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kala narrowed his eyes. “You cannot dissuade us from this path, Clockwork. The decision has already been made.”

“My warning is not meant to dissuade or persuade, merely inform,” Clockwork said amicably. “What you do with it is entirely your choice.”

“What is this warning, then?” 

Clockwork shifted the hand on his staff. “I must tell you that even I cannot foresee the outcomes of this decision. The branches created here are unclear and muddy, at best. Many are dependent on events and people that will not come about for many, many years. I cannot warn you about the exact consequences of binding Kilaris to these objects, but I can offer what little insight I do have. This binding will end successfully, should you choose to go through with it. I can see that clearly. However, the risks associated with it are grave.”

“You don't think we know that already?” Zunje asked. Her shoulders inched up towards her ears as she rested her elbows on the table and buried her fingers in her hair. “We went through them all when we went over our choices.”

Clockwork tilted his head. “Did you, though?”  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Annihilation…  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Consider this,” Clockwork said as he tapped the crown with the tip of his staff. The metal clink echoed hollowly throughout the chamber. “By locking Kilaris in a prison of iron and steel, you are subjecting it to the same properties of the metal. That is, you are taking what once had no true form and giving it physicality.”

“Is this a bad thing?” Pele asked.

Clockwork hummed. “Not inherently. But it would be worth considering what would happen to Kilaris if its vessel were to be damaged.”

“That’s impossible,” Kala said immediately. “This crown and ring were forged in the eternal fires of Volaris and purified with water from the River Styx. Master Zunje herself oversaw their formation to ensure they would be fit for Kilaris. They cannot be damaged arbitrarily.”

“Oh, I do not doubt you at all. The precautions you have taken are commendable. But I must remind you that there are factors outside of your control. Outside of anyone’s control.”

“Uh, what kind of factors we talking?” Babel asked. They tapped their fingers together repeatedly, and little flakes of glitter fell from where their fingers touched.

Clockwork’s eyes remained glued to the crown and ring. “I cannot say. As I said, the future is unclear even to me. I am afraid that is as much of a warning I am able to provide.”

Kala frowned. “So this is it? You’ve come to tell us of things we already know?”

“It is what Time has allowed me to tell you.”

“That’s never good, coming from you,” Zunje grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Does this mean there are things you are not telling us?” Kala asked. A low roll of thunder reverberated throughout the chamber. “I’ll have you know -”

“I can assure you, you are being told exactly what you need to know. You must remember that Time rarely works in straightforward methods. Often, there are ulterior motives to the information it allows to be revealed or the actions it allows to be taken.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Darkness… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “I do not think Time is the only one with ulterior motives.” Kala’s eyes narrowed further.

“Think what you want, dear Master. Just know that should you choose to go through with this plan, you must be certain that Kilaris is kept safe. If it is to be kept in a vessel, that vessel must remain unharmed.” Clockwork brushed a finger along the crown’s surface. “No matter what that vessel is, or how many there are.”

“Well that’s why we have two,” Zunje said. “I mean, the prince isn’t really supposed to know the Heart’s gonna be in his regalia. We’re giving them to him separately, so even if he finds out about one, he shouldn’t necessarily draw the connection to the other, you know? That way we should be able to have a chance to get the other half and break the connection. Problem solved… I think.”

“Then it seems like you have it well under control. I suppose it is possible my warning is for naught.”

A brief silence fell over the chamber. Kala and Clockwork locked eyes, almost seeming to have a silent conversation between them.

“We will move forward with the process, then,” Kala decided. “The risks of not following through outweigh the risks posed. But we will not tell the prince of these matters. We will not tell anyone of these matters. And if the prince should find out, then we will depose him immediately. We will retain full control over the situation.”

“I don’t know…” Pandora said. “I still worry that the prince is too volatile. He may react before we are able to. He has already given us doubts about his fitness for the throne…”

“I would not worry about it too much.” Clockwork’s lips curled into a grin. “When the time is right, I am sure our little Prince will make a marvelous King.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chaos.

Despair.

Tyranny.

Terror. Annihilation.

Darkness.

Each tumbled through Danny as he laid crumpled on the street. A shudder ripped through his broken body with each cry of fear or shout of desperation he heard. His empty core vibrated violently, right next to his pounding heart, and he couldn’t tell if it was still an aftereffect of Pariah’s assault or the destruction of the Crown and Ring or simply the end of the world happening around him.

And, judging by the way his body felt like it was pulling itself apart just like the Heart was pulling reality apart, happening in him, too.

He mustered what little strength he could and cracked open his eyes. Unable to turn his head (he couldn’t feel his neck, he could only hope it hadn’t been broken), he was only rewarded with a view of the debris-ridden street through a curtain of black bangs. The angle was different than it had been a moment ago; he could no longer see the intersection, and he was facing the post office, nearly a block away from where he and Pariah had been fighting.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, or what could've made him transform involuntarily, but he suspected it had to do with - 

( - another voice screaming in harmony with his and Ancients, of course it would be screaming, with the way Pariah -) 

The memory stung his core and stole his breath away. He wanted to curl in on himself, but he was too weak. Too broken. His core cried out, unable to keep up with the demands for healing his body was making. Even his cloak sputtered weakly. How it had managed to stay secured around his shoulders, he had no clue.

The fight had resumed behind him, but without any strength or ability to move, he couldn’t see what was happening. Only the sounds and the intermittent flashes of light illuminating the street gave him any hint about what was happening. Each grunt of pain, each terrified scream sent a shiver through his entire being.

Above him, on the horizon, the sky was glitching. It was really the only word for it. Different parts flickered between different skies. Sometimes the normal gray layer of clouds, sometimes the dark, green vacuum of the Ghost Zone, sometimes the endless, dark void that the rip had exposed, never remaining on any one scene for long. 

He choked back a feeble sob. 

Do not despair, little Prince. You did everything you could.

The voice was weak. Far away. Danny wasn’t even sure he was truly hearing it.

Something stabbed into his hand. With a heave of effort, he shifted it forward just far enough to see it and the fragment of the dead Crown that had embedded itself into his palm.

No. His fingers shook with effort as he closed them around the fragment. Clockwork’s words from the foreign memory replayed in his head. I failed. He destroyed you, and it’s because I couldn’t stop him.

Hush child. It was an insurmountable task from the start. You faced it with bravery and fought nobly. Most in your stead would turn and run the other way.

But why me? He hated feeling so selfish and petty in a moment like this, but breathing was becoming more and more laborious and he knew the warm puddle under his head wasn’t water. If he was about to die again, then the universe could deal with him being a little bit selfish in his last moments. Why did you think I could do it?

Do not think like that. You have not failed. Not yet.

Somehow, he found it in him to cough up a semblance of a laugh. You’re even more stubborn than I am.

Perhaps it is not just you that has been influenced by this bond.

Whatever you say. His eyelids felt heavy. He let them drift close. Can I go to sleep yet? I think I’m ready now.

“Not yet, Danny.”

His face twitched. Slowly, he forced his eyes back open, and when he saw the newcomer, he coughed up another laugh. Something coppery filled his mouth as he did.

“You’re late,” he whispered. His voice was scratchy and barely audible. Speaking took too much effort. 

Still though, seeing Clockwork’s stiff, sad smile made him feel a little bit better, at least. As good as one could feel while in the middle of dying. Again. “I’m never late,” Clockwork said. He shifted into his older form. “Everything happens at the right time. And for you, Danny, the time isn’t right. Not quite yet.”

“Mkay.” Breathing was definitely becoming more difficult. His core gave another painful yank as the sky dissolved into clouds, then back to dark nothingness. “Can you speed it up then? I’m sleepy.”

Clockwork didn’t respond right away. After a minute, he reached forward and carefully combed bits of rubble out of Danny’s hair. A strangely domestic, fatherly gesture for the Timekeeper. Danny didn’t mind.

“You can rest soon,” he promised. “But there’s something we must address first.”

Danny blinked slowly. His surroundings became fuzzier. “Can it wait? I’m kind of dying here.”

Distantly, he felt Clockwork withdraw his hand. “I cannot undo what has been done, nor can I prevent the inevitable. Not this time. But perhaps, I can, as they say, buy us a little time.”

Danny could only groan pitifully. He tediously unclenched his fingers and extended them toward Clockwork. Don’t make me wait, he silently begged the Timekeeper. Don’t make me suffer any longer.

Relax, little Prince. Trust him.

Clockwork took Danny’s hand. For some reason, Danny took notice of how small his hand felt in Clockwork’s. Like how his own hand felt compared to his father’s. “I need to show you something before you can make your decision,” he explained as he gently extracted the piece of the Crown stuck in Danny’s palm. “But for me to do so, we need time. Time which you currently do not have.”

Why did his eyelids feel so heavy? Why couldn’t Clockwork just leave him to die in relative peace? Why was he making him suffer through his core and Heart being torn to shreds and reality falling to pieces around him?

“I can grant us that little bit of extra time,” Clockwork continued saying, “but to do so, I need your help. Can you do that for me, Danny?”

Danny exhaled what little breath he had shakily. I don’t want to, he whined to himself. The selfishness was coming unbidden at this point. Haven’t I already done enough?

Trust him, little Prince.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and something wet trickled down his cheek to mingle with the growing puddle beneath him. He wanted to sob freely. He wanted his friends. He wanted his sister. He wanted his parents. He wanted the nightmare to end. He wanted to sleep and let go and not have to be in this pain anymore.

Trust him.

There was something drumming in his core, beneath the excruciating pain and the pieces falling away. Something pushing him, nudging him to listen. To listen to the stubborn voice. To listen to Clockwork. To listen to his own heart, which wanted the nightmare to end just as badly as he did, but on his terms.

Trust him.

He pressed his fingers into Clockwork’s hand.

“Good.” Clockwork’s glove wrapped tightly around his hand. “I need you to concentrate. Focus all of your energy. Picture yourself getting up. And when I give you the signal, I need you to push forward. Do you understand?”

Panic seized Danny all at once. No! he wanted to shout. What do you mean? I can barely lift a finger!

Focus. Listen to what he says. You can do it. A simple push.

The grip around his hand tightened, and somehow, his heart began to race faster. “Ready?” Clockwork asked. 

Again, Danny wanted to shout. How could he do this, when he had no idea what Clockwork was really asking of him?

Remember where your strength comes from. 

It seemed like an eternity ago that the Heart coached him through this the first time. When all this had first been dumped on him and overwhelmed him. When Pariah had been in his head, trying to get him to cave in on himself and give up.

Had it really only been a few hours ago?

The answer, his source of strength, he knew, was already speaking to him.

Now, that drumming in his core, all the voices coagulating inside his head, they pushed him. Pushed him to listen even closer. Pushed him to fight for himself.

Pushed him.

Desperately, Danny latched onto that faint drumming with what little energy he had remaining. He could try. He could at least try. 

And if he failed, then maybe he could finally rest.

Suddenly, Clockwork began pulling hard on his arm. “Time out!”

And Danny pushed.

And the world went dark. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ …

…

…

… voices.

There were…

… voices.

…

…

…

… faint.

But there.

…

…

“... Danny?”

A familiar voice.

…

… almost reachable.

…

“... coolest thing…”

…

“... do you think?”

What did you think?

…

…

When we first met?

…

“... could explore…”

When you arrived on my doorstep?

…

…

…

When you so kindly opened the way?

…

“... get a picture…”

…

“... right, Danny?”

What was going through your mind?

…

…

Did you have any idea of who you’d become?

…

…

…

“... trouble…”

…

Did you have any idea of the things you’d do?

…

…

“... opportunity like this…”

…

Of how you’d single-handedly change your worlds?

…

…

…

Oh, child…

…

…

… the voices…

…

“... can’t do it…”

…

…

You aren’t meeting your destiny today.

…

…

…

… fading…

…

“... only you…”

…

…

…

You already met me long ago.

…

…

…

… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “You can open your eyes.”

He did.

The scene before him was not the one he’d left. He stood in his parent’s lab, not a hum or a whirr to be heard. Only the fluorescent lights above buzzed languidly.

In front of him stood the Portal.

The deactivated Portal.

“... I don’t understand.” His own voice sounded distorted to him, as if he were listening to it underwater. Though the pain of his injuries had miraculously disappeared, something he couldn’t describe still pressed into his temple, giving him a headache. “Why are we here? How are we here?”

“Come now, Danny. You should know by now that the ‘how’ is unimportant.”

He spun to face Clockwork. Somewhere in the back of his head, he registered how fluidly his body moved, as if he hadn’t just been lying broken on the street however long ago. “‘How’ is kind of important to me!” he said, trying to keep his voice from climbing any higher than it already was. 

Clockwork remained stoic. He floated close enough to pick up the edge of Danny’s cloak. “Frostbite’s handiwork is exquisite,” he said with a gentle stroke of the fabric. “He spent a long time making this for you, you know. It’s a shame I had to tarnish it with a spell of my own.”

Danny looked down. Though Clockwork’s form remained solid as ever, Danny’s own body rippled in the light. He could see the floor through his tattered sneakers. He felt intangible and solid at the same time. The angry push against his brain, as if he was a foreign presence in his own body and something was fighting to push him out made him feel even less stable. 

It was trippy, to say the least.

“Your own spell?” he asked slowly. 

Clockwork hummed and continued to stroke the cloak. “Sadly, there is no time for lengthy explanations.”

“You’re literally the Master of Time. Isn’t like, pausing time and stuff your whole thing?”

It might have been his imagination, but Danny thought he saw the corners of Clockwork’s lips tick upward. “My powers are finite, Danny. Contrary to belief, Time is not at my mercy. It is I who is at Time’s mercy. It presses on, regardless of my wishes. As much as I would’ve liked to simply bring you here without needing to interfere, I’ve had to find… shortcuts.”

He shifted the cloak to fall over Danny’s shoulder. Danny could only stare helplessly. “I still don’t understand…”

“As is to be expected. It is unlikely you ever will.” Clockwork’s eyes flicked up to meet Danny’s briefly. Danny was taken aback by the sad smile that had crept onto the Timekeeper’s face. “Let’s just say a force as ordered as Time does not get along well with a force as wild as Kilaris. You’ve gotten yourself tangled in a mess of cosmic powers, I’m afraid. One that is not easily untangled. Thus, the need to find shortcuts.

“The spell is complicated. Too complicated to explain, quite frankly. Not when we’re on a deadline. Emphasis on ‘dead,’ as I believe one of your friends joked once.”

Danny couldn’t decide if it was amusing or creepy that Clockwork knew such tiny little details about his life. “Why are we on a deadline?”

Clockwork tapped the edge of Danny’s cloak with the tip of his staff. A single ripple of blue energy radiated from where his staff touched. “Without getting into too many of the hairy details, the spell I cast has allowed me to bring your spirit to this moment. By keeping your physical body in your present, Time is appeased. It is… a loophole, if you will.”

That at least helped explain why he felt kind of like a bowl of Jell-O in the Ghost Assault Vehicle while his dad was at the wheel. “I still don’t get why we’re in a rush though.”

“It is like I said. My powers are finite. I cannot stop the passage of Time in one moment and allow it to continue during a different moment. Though I may be able to preserve your physical body in time, for me to be able to bring you to this moment, I must allow Time to move forward. The events in your present… they still happen. Even as we speak.”

Danny’s breath caught in his throat. “So… Pariah…?”

“... is still a threat, yes,” Clockwork finished with a grave nod. “You must be returned to your present as quickly as possible to truly satisfy Time’s demands. But first, you must make a decision.”

His head swam. “A decision? I don’t… Clockwork, what’s going on?” Danny twisted and turned, trying to gather his swarming thoughts. It was only then that it occurred to him… “Why are we in the lab? When are we?”

Clockwork’s mouth ticked up into the faintest of smiles. “I thought you would recognize this day right away. After all -”

He was cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing ever so softly. Quiet footsteps padded down the stairs, slowly and carefully, as if trying not to be heard at all. 

Danny’s eyes widened as he saw himself come into view, descending the stairs. A younger him, yes, but still him.

A deactivated portal. A younger version of himself.

Oh God. 

“Clockwork, no, please,” he said, trying to catch his breath and swallow back the dizziness that had overcome him. “I can’t… don’t do this to me, not this…”

Without thinking, he stumbled backward, away from his younger self, who had begun to slowly approach the dormant Portal. His back slammed into the wall.

His breathing shallowed out as his younger self snapped his head up and stared right at him, blue eyes boring into blue eyes. It took several tense moments for the younger Danny to shake his head and go back to peering around the Portal’s console. Even then, the older Danny refused to let up his guard.

“Why here?” he whispered hoarsely, unable to rip his gaze away from the all-too-familiar memory playing out in front of him. “Why now?”

Clockwork only hummed noncommittally before floating over to the younger Danny. “Such a fascinating moment,” he said quietly. He too watched the memory fixedly. “What it must be like to stand on the precipice of change. To be moments away from altering the course of history. Not even knowing of the position you are in. Not knowing what lies ahead.”

“Clockwork, no. No, I can’t do this right now, I-I can’t…” He trailed off, unable to gather his thoughts enough to form a complete sentence. 

It was a memory, yes, but it was a memory burned into his head, burned into his arm. It was his own personal ghost, one that had haunted him in his nightmares for two years. One that he could still barely talk about to this day. 

The younger Danny had straightened up and now stared fixedly at the gaping portal. Present-day Danny knew exactly what was going through his head. The memory flashed before him - 

( - how am I supposed to do this? Mom and Dad couldn’t even - )

- and he wanted to scream. To grab this past version of himself, shake him by the shoulders, and beg him not to go into that portal. He opened his mouth to do just that, but he was cut off by Clockwork.

“He won’t hear you,” he said plainly. “You are too displaced from time right now for him to properly perceive you.” He gave Danny a wry smile. “You can think of it like… a video, perhaps. When there is a delay and what you hear becomes just out of sync with what you see. Enough to still be able to understand what is happening, but just enough to not be lined up. That is us right now.”

Clockwork’s explanation flew over Danny’s head. It probably would have anyway even if he hadn’t been capital-F Freaking Out. 

“I need you to focus, Danny. You must make the decision.”

“Decision, what decision?” Danny asked, his voice shrill.

Clockwork tilted his head. “Isn’t it obvious? You must choose your destiny.”

Static filled Danny’s head as he watched his younger self go to the closet in the back of the lab and pull out a familiar jumpsuit. Young Danny scowled at the sticker of his dad’s face plastered on the chest, and he tore it off and tossed it aside.

“Why do you keep going on about my destiny?” the present-day Danny demanded. “You’re just as bad as the Heart!”

“I’m not surprised. It has been watching you all this time, you know. Waiting for this moment.”

Danny wanted to throw up. His head spun from the dizziness of the panic and Clockwork’s confusing words. The feeling only worsened as his younger self began to pull on the jumpsuit. “Waiting?” he asked weakly.

Clockwork sighed, but there was no frustration behind it. Instead, his endless red eyes simply traced the younger Danny’s movements. “Tell me, what happened to you on this day?”

Danny barked a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Humor me.”

“Humor you. Right. Because my death is just so funny.”

He couldn’t help but feel irritated when Clockwork’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Fair enough. But what really happened to you that day? Do you know?”

Danny opened his mouth to say yes, of course he did, he had been there and gone through it, after all. Death wasn’t something easily forgotten. However, something in the way Clockwork arched his eyebrow and asked him made him hesitate.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

Clockwork hummed and floated over to the portal. “You died, yes. And you didn’t die. Despite dying, you survived.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.”

“You don’t know how you survived, do you?”

To hear Clockwork ask so plainly pierced Danny like a knife. It was a question he’d asked himself hundreds of times after the accident - how did I survive? At some point, he’d stopped thinking about it and just started accepting it. But now…

Clockwork smiled. “Think about it. You died because a portal used your body to open itself. No human can withstand a force like that and survive. But the opening of that portal exposed you to something else. You were exposed to the Infinite Realms.”

“I don’t understand,” Danny said, watching his younger self zip up the jumpsuit and look up at the deactivated Portal in trepidation. 

“Tell me, what makes up the Infinite Realms?”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Ectoplasm? And… the Heart, I guess…”

“Precisely.” Clockwork ran a hand down the metal exterior of the Portal. “You were exposed to Kilaris itself, like none have before. Not even Vlad Plasmius.”

“But then… how -?”

“All you need to know now is that his death, though similar in circumstance, was vastly different from yours,” Clockwork said. “What’s important now is that you recognize the significance of your own death. You see, a ghost’s core often forms around the energy present at their death. It’s what determines their power, their form, their essence… everything about them.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Danny said. His voice began to creep higher again as the younger Danny slowly stepped towards the Portal. “What about it?”

“When most ghosts are formed, there is usually only one energy present, determined by the circumstances of their death,” Clockwork explained patiently, still with a hand on the Portal. “For you, however, the energy present at your death was far beyond just one kind. You had the essence of the Realms in you. You had Kilaris.”

Danny’s heart fluttered. “What? I…”

“And so your core formed around that energy. The energy of Kilaris. One might say it formed around Kilaris and the Realms themselves. A core the likes of which have never been seen, in all the millenia Kilaris has lived.”

Danny’s hand instinctively flew up to his sternum. The familiar, cold energy of his core pulsed against his hand. It had been stuttering and on the verge of giving out back home, but here, outside of time and in the past, it carried on, as if it hadn’t been through its most traumatizing day since the day of the accident. 

“What are you saying?” he whispered.

Clockwork didn’t answer right away. Instead, he floated back over to Danny and covered Danny’s hand with his own. Finally, he asked, “Do you remember how Kilaris told you that you were born for this? That this was your destiny?”

Danny didn’t know how he knew that, but he nodded anyway.

His younger self stepped into the Portal.

“It wasn’t exaggerating. From the moment you turned that portal on, you were set apart from all the other ghosts. All the other ghosts that have borne the blessing of Kilaris and served as its king. It found the perfect balance between life and death within you - the perfect vessel for such a task as this. You, Danny, were quite literally made to have this connection to the Heart.”

Blood rushed in Danny’s ears. The memory playing in front of him seemed to slow to a crawl, and he became all too aware of his own breathing. 

“No,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “No, you’re wrong. It’s - I’m just me. I’m just a dumb kid who got killed doing something he shouldn’t have been and was lucky enough to survive. There’s no way I - my core, it…”

Clockwork smiled sadly. “It is a lot to process, I’m sure. There has never been a core like yours in existence. There has never been anyone like you in existence.” He turned to glance at the younger Danny, who was carefully examining a circuit board on the wall, near the mouth of the Portal. “At least… that is how it will be. If you so choose.”

“Choose? It’s already happened!” Danny’s voice began climbing in pitch and volume again. The fact that the memory was nearing the dreaded moment didn’t help matters. “Are - are you saying it could be different?”

“Yes. That is why we are here. This is the decision you must make.”

Danny’s head spun. On the one hand, he could barely focus on what Clockwork had just revealed, or on this supposed decision he had to make. Not with the memory of his own death playing out in front of him like this. 

On the other hand, all this talk about his core and his uniqueness and his freaking destiny was even more overwhelming. The idea that he had the opportunity to change all that left him feeling lightheaded. 

“I wouldn’t have to do… all this?” he asked shakily. “I wouldn’t have to die? Or - or become the king?”

“Of course. You would step out of this portal without activating it. You’d go about your normal human life, none the wiser.”

The thought appealed to him. It was more than appealing. It was the answer to so many sleepless nights and bad grades and awful injuries and disappointed looks. It was something he had longed for in the months after his accident but had long since given up on. 

“And… what happens if I do that?” he whispered. “If I choose to change things? What would happen to - to the Heart?”

His younger self began moving towards the back of the Portal.

Towards a panel with two distinct buttons.

“I do not know,” Clockwork said, equally quiet. “That future has been hidden even from me. My assumption? Kilaris would eventually grow frustrated with its prison, just as it did in the current timeline. Of course, you were an impetus to that, and so it might take longer, but it would happen, nonetheless. And if Kilaris does not find another it deems worthy?” Clockwork shrugged a shoulder. “Well… you saw the state of reality before we left the present.”

“But if I keep my powers or whatever, isn’t the world gonna end anyway? Pariah, he… he killed the Heart. What difference would it make?”

“More than you think. Your core has always had a connection to the Heart, even if it hasn’t fully matured until just recently. In some ways, your core is like an extension to the Heart itself. Not completely, of course, but it is enough.”

Danny chewed on his lip. His younger self was inching closer and closer towards those damning buttons, and Danny found himself drifting closer to his memory self. “Enough for what?”

“Enough to keep the Heart alive, through the connection it has already forged with you. It is the one part of Kilaris that Pariah Dark cannot reach. Yes, he may have destroyed the vast majority of the Heart’s lifeforce, but he has not destroyed it all.”

Danny’s fist clenched over his sternum. The Heart… alive in him?

“How is that even a fair choice?” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re asking me to choose the fate of the worlds.”

Clockwork twiddled with his staff. “That I am. But I assure you, the choice is entirely yours. It is possible that should you choose not to activate the portal that things will still end well. It is simply a matter of what you feel led to do.”

Danny could only stare helplessly at his younger self. He drifted even closer, entering the Portal to hover right behind his younger self, who had stooped down to examine a tangle of wires on the ground. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself go through that pain and suffering again. He couldn’t condemn his younger self to that emotional turmoil.

And yet… 

The Heart had saved him. Even in death, it kept him alive. Even if it had done it because of an ulterior motive, because he had something to offer, it had still chosen to do so.

You were saved not because of what you could offer, but because of who you are. 

His younger self shifted and moved to stand. Danny’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. He knew exactly what was about to happen.

Who better for the Heart of the Infinite Realms to forge such a bond with than the child who offered up his own heart for it?

“That wasn’t… that’s not what I meant…” Danny whispered aloud. 

His younger self stood, then squinted at something on the back panel. He slowly began to move towards it.

He didn’t notice the loose wire draped over his boot.

This is your choice, little Prince. Will you offer yourself up once more, for both of your worlds? Will you step up again to selflessly save the lives of those in your protection?

It was never going to be a fair decision. How could he refuse to repay the Heart, who had saved his life? How could he condemn it to suffering alone, never to be whole again? How could he choose to abandon the fate of the worlds in favor of his own life?

“I can’t do this,” he said, barely audible. “I can’t…”

His younger self tripped. His hand flew out to the side to catch his fall.

Will you embrace who you are meant to be?

Danny made his choice.

As his younger self’s hand brushed past the “on” button, Danny inhaled sharply, then darted his hand out.

And with the click of the button, the world exploded in a blinding flash of pure white. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The end of the world was upon them. Valerie could feel it in her bones, in the way reality seemed to push back and grate against every nerve in her body. Someone gripped her arm like a lifeline - whether it was a ghost, human, or something else entirely, she barely knew - and she couldn’t help but dig her fingers into their arm. Like whoever it was could somehow stop the awful sensation of her soul trying to rip itself from her body.

She and the others had fought back as long as they could against Pariah after that explosion that had thrown Danny aside, but before long, reality falling apart overwhelmed them all, even the Ancient ghosts. Now, with her eyes screwed tightly shut, she was only vaguely aware of the evil ghost king cackling away, drunk on the chaos and destruction. She had no idea what a ‘Kilaris’ was, but it had to be something important if he was claiming to have destroyed it to trigger everything.

It was a Sisyphian task to try and pry even just one of her eyes open, despite her visor shielding her face from the whipping wind. Still, Valerie Gray was not one to roll over and take it, no matter what ‘it’ was. Reality could be falling apart around her, but if she wanted to open her eye then damn it, she would open it.

Her gaze did not land on the king. It did not land on whoever was clutching her. It didn’t even land on the dozens of screaming civilians, who were clearly being affected by things in spite of the ghost shield. No, her gaze immediately flicked over to where Danny had been tossed aside like a rag doll. She could just barely make out his form amidst the rubble. The cloak he wore draped over his broken body like a blanket, and though she couldn’t see his face from where she stood, somehow she just… knew.

He wasn’t moving. At all.

Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. God, this was so unfair. The boy who had robbed her of everything, the boy who had once stolen her heart, the boy who had left dozens of sleepless nights and burning questions in his wake… 

She knew she should be mad. And truth be told, some part of her was angry with him. She resented him for everything he had put her through, for everything that had happened to their relationship. 

But… a much larger part of her wanted to grieve. Wanted to lash out at the universe for putting them at odds. That part of her wanted to find it in her to run to his side and slap him awake so that they could fix everything.

And whether she meant everything happening or everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure.

A sharp bolt of something adjacent to pain shot through her. Her spine went rigid, and she opened her mouth in a soundless gasp. She didn’t even really know if she had the breath to gasp still, let alone shout out or cry or do anything that would probably end up embarrassing her in the long run. The wind howled against her suit, and the sky above gave a great groan, as if it was ready to come collapsing down on top of them all. Part of her wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Someone to her left let out a bloodcurdling scream.

She didn’t know how much longer her body could take it. She didn’t know how much longer her will could hold out against whatever intense energy was worming its way into her body, making her feel as though she herself was ripping apart at the seams, just like the sky. It was unbearable. 

She could only hope it hadn’t been this bad for Danny.

And then, just when she was sure she wouldn’t be able to last any longer, just when she was sure she would have to succumb…

It stopped.

Everything just…

Stopped.

Valerie braced herself. This was it. It had to be it. The moment of stillness before destruction. She held her breath as she waited for… whatever it would be to descend upon her. Would it hurt? Would it be quick? Would she even know it happened?

(She just wished… Danny…)

A second passed. Then five. Then ten. Nothing happened. 

With her heart pounding in her chest, Valerie pried one eye open. The task was far easier than it had been just a minute ago. A gasp ripped from her throat and her other eye flew open too as her gaze landed on the rip in the sky. It had stopped dead in its tracks; though the void still yawned across the sky, it had stopped swelling and widening. The little sky that remained had frozen into a strange mix of Earthly blue-gray and ghostly dark green.

A glow caught the peripheries of her vision, and instinctively, she looked at it, only for another gasp to tear from her mouth. The glow shone in a brilliant, beautiful white, shimmering with the hints of reds and blues and purples and greens, like a prism. It was bright enough to illuminate the entire street and cast a warm, comforting glow on everything it touched.

And there, in the epicenter of that brilliant glow, stood Danny.

It wasn’t the same broken, battered Danny that had been so callously thrown aside by the tyrant king. No, this Danny was… different. Healed. Revitalized. Where there had been cuts and blood and bruises, Valerie couldn’t see a scratch. He looked like the picture of perfect health.

It wasn’t the only thing that had changed about his appearance. He had transformed back into Phantom; his suit had been repaired. A prism of light distorted the air at his side, channeled through his hand and sharpened to a sword point of pure white light. His cloak billowed behind him in an unseen wind, the fractal patterns on the inside catching the light of the glow and reflecting back a rainbow of light. A streak of pure black cut through his bangs before fading seamlessly back into his white hair. 

The most astounding change, though, was the crown nestled in his hair. It was an open circlet of sparkling silver, made of thin wires twisting in and out of one another. Frost coated the metal and became little, crystalline leaves and snowflakes, spiraling in little branches all along the crown. A handful of tiny diamonds of ice dotted themselves in between the leaves and snowflakes and wires. Much like his cloak, they too caught the light of the white glow around him, throwing the light back out and giving the illusion of a shimmering halo.

It was astonishing. He was astonishing. Radiating a power that even Valerie could feel prickling at her skin, underneath her suit, he looked every bit the part of a High King. 

The only part that unnerved her was his eyes. She expected to see that familiar Phantom green glowing back at her, but she was instead met with two pools of the same pure white that surrounded him, with his pupils still barely visible underneath the glow. If she squinted and concentrated, she could almost see flickers of the same colors that shimmered in the white glow around him. The look in his eyes screamed intensity and power, something she didn’t know if she’d ever seen in Danny.

As he slowly began to walk forward, thin wisps of ectoplasm coiled towards him, as if he was a magnet drawing them in. Maybe, with such a powerful display, he really was a magnet for it. Either way, it made for even more of a spectacle. Valerie couldn’t tear her eyes away. 

The entire street seemed to hold its breath as he approached. Finally, she managed to tear her eyes away from him long enough to follow his gaze and see Pariah Dark at the end of the road, his one eye widened to near-comical proportions. He remained frozen, mouth gaping, as if Danny’s eyes kept him glued in place. 

Beside her, one of the ghosts - the one that had been with Danny when she found him - whispered something fast and unintelligible before dropping into a kneeling position. It was strange, considering she didn’t have knees, but the effect was the same. The other ghosts too started to kneel, even the big burly one with the cloak of clouds. 

If Danny even noticed, he didn’t pay any attention to it. Without breaking his line of sight with Pariah, he thrusted a hand up into the air, pointing directly at the sky. Light bent around his hand, refracting into a multitude of colors. It wasn’t like any sort of ectoplasmic energy Valerie had ever seen before. 

Above him, the rip in the sky seemed to bend with white, shimmery light. The edges glowed brilliantly, and wisps of colorful ectoplasm seemed to emerge from the glow. They zipped back and forth across the rip in a flurry, like a multicolored shower of shooting stars. The sight was so entrancing, Valerie barely noticed that the pressure in her chest had begun to abate. 

Danny twisted his wrist, and the lights in the sky twisted in tandem. The whole block watched in anticipation as the rip stitched itself back together with the threads of ectoplasmic light, sealing away the dark void behind it. 

Valerie couldn’t help but gape. She didn’t know whether to be in awe or in fear of the fact that apparently Danny could stop the end of the world with little more than a thought and a flick of his hand.

Unlike her and the rest of the crowd, he didn’t stop to admire his handiwork. “Lord Pariah,” he said as he stepped forward once again, but the voice wasn’t his. It was there, yes, but only under layers upon layers of other, far more ethereal voices. They seemed to crackle in the air around him, like static electricity that raised the hairs on the back of Valerie’s neck and made her skin tingle. The white glow around Danny shifted and glinted with the hints of the colors in his eyes with each word he spoke.

Danny - or whatever had hijacked his body - drew the prismatic sword and leveled it at Pariah as he continued to walk closer and closer. “You have wrought nothing but terror upon the kingdom whose protection with which you were charged. You have desecrated the most sacred of bonds in all the Realms. You have sought to destroy that which has granted you the existence you have so shamefully disrespected. Today, you shall answer for these crimes and the other atrocities committed in your name.”

Pariah, to his credit, recovered from his initial shock quickly and scowled at Danny. “What is the meaning of this? You dare defy my power?”

It happened so fast, Valerie could barely process it. Danny disappeared in a flash of bright white light, reappearing in front of Pariah with the tip of the glowing sword pressed to the king’s sternum. The world seemed to hold its breath as the two stood, perfectly frozen. Pariah stared at Danny, for once with terror written in his eye.

“You dare defy my power?” Danny said. 

In spite of the terror, Pariah snarled and drew back a fist. Red energy exploded to life around it, but when he moved to fire, Danny flicked his free hand, and the energy fizzled out.

Valerie shivered. 

Pariah moved to attempt another attack, but Danny responded by pressing the tip of his sword further into the king’s chest. The prism flared with light, and droplets of glowing green ectoplasm appeared where the blade pierced him. Beside her, Valerie heard Sam’s breath hitch in a gasp. 

“Of course you still try and fight,” Danny said, shaking his head. His voice, the voices that filled the air around him and pierced Valerie’s ears, grew dangerously quiet. “After everything you’ve done to my Realms, you should be begging for mercy.”

“The Realms are not yours!” Pariah seethed in spite of the sword cutting into him. “They are mine! I will not stand for this trickery!”

Danny laughed hollowly. The light around him bent and twisted. “There is no trickery. The Realms are mine, just as I am theirs. Just as he is mine, and he is theirs.”

“Oh my God,” Tucker whispered. “Is that…?”

One of the ghosts immediately shushed him. Valerie didn’t understand why.

She didn’t fully understand Danny’s words, either, but for some reason, they left her unnerved.

Pariah bared his teeth. “You would have this child? A boy whose power barely measures up to your name?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Danny said. “Such things are beyond the understanding of someone as foolish as you. This child has done more for me than you, or any who have called themselves my champion. His very existence is a gift to the worlds he has vowed to protect. Through his death, he was born again as my true champion.”

Valerie’s head spun. To hear this… whatever talk about Danny like this… The same boy who still tripped over his own feet when he got nervous, the same boy who had a reputation for running and hiding at even the hint of a ghost attack, the same boy who shied away from any and all attention like it was the plague… She was having a hard time reconciling it, that was for certain.

“No!” Pariah snarled. “He is worthless! You are worthless!”

He reached up to try and grab the sword pressing into him. Danny, however, twisted his free wrist, and Pariah fell to the ground back first with an enormous thud. Before he could recover, Danny had already positioned the blade right above Pariah’s sternum.

“You will not speak ill of him,” Danny growled. The sound pulsed through the air with a flash of white light, and out of the corner of Valerie’s eye, she saw the civilians under the ghost shield flinch. More than one child began to cry. Quite frankly, she didn’t blame them. The sound of his layered voice was enough to cause even her to want to shrink back. “You will not harm him again. You will not harm our Realms again!”

“Then do it,” Pariah hissed back. “Prove yourself! Prove you are not such a coward that you will hide behind empty threats!”

Danny’s grip on the glowing blade tightened. “Do not test me!”

“Then do it!”

Danny raised the sword. Valerie’s breath caught in her throat. As he drove it down, she couldn’t tear her eyes away as she waited for him to deliver the final blow.

It never came.

The prismatic light that formed the sword’s blade hovered barely an inch from Pariah’s chest.

Danny clenched his eyes shut, and Pariah dared to shift enough to raise his head. “Are you a coward?” he said. “Do it!”

“... No.” 

Valerie blinked. Had that been the real Danny’s voice?

“I said do it!”

“It would seem,” Danny said through his teeth as his voice flickered back to the cacophony of layered voices, “that the Prince is far kinder than I.”

“Then he is weak! You are weak!”

Danny’s eyes flew open. To Valerie’s shock, the white glow faded, leaving behind the familiar Phantom green. The glow around him dulled just the slightest, and his prismatic sword seemed to waver.

“I’m not weak,” he said quietly, and this time Valerie was sure that it was her Danny speaking.

Pariah laughed, not even bothering to hide the maniacal edge to it. “You are if you let me live! This will never end unless you end it now!”

“I don’t care.” Danny shifted back the slightest bit. “I’ll find another way. But it won’t be like this.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m better than that. I’m better than you.” Before Pariah could respond, he regarded the toppled king with one last, somber look before turning and walking away.

“Fool!” Pariah bellowed after Danny’s retreating form. “Do you not understand? I will End you! You and your pathetic existence, and then I will destroy your precious Kilaris once and for all! You will never defeat me if you take the coward’s way out!”

Danny closed his eyes and inhaled. Stopping, but without turning around, he said, “You’re right. I won’t. Not in the way you and Kilaris think defeat looks like. But think what you want - you’ve still lost. You are the one who’s powerless. You never even had it to begin with.” The inside of his cloak twinkled, and the light around him pulsed as he resumed his retreat.

Interdimensional king or not, Valerie wanted to shake Danny for being so stupid as to turn his back on such a dangerous enemy without securing him first. As it was, she saw Pariah’s next move from a mile away.

He launched himself up with a roar, red sparking around his hands. With a reach, he lunged straight for Danny’s back.

Before Valerie or anyone could jump in or even shout a warning, though, the tip of an acidic green blade blossomed from the center of Pariah’s chest.

“The King may have his reservations about ending your sorry existence,” the Fright Knight growled from behind him. “I have no such qualms.”

Danny had turned at the sound of Pariah’s roar, and when his eyes landed on the sword, a pallid green hue dusted his cheeks. Somehow, Valerie knew it wasn’t ectoplasm.

Pariah tried to turn to face the Fright Knight, but with a sword embedded in him, the task was impossible. “You… traitor…”

“I serve a new liege now,” the Fright Knight corrected. “And Kilaris’ words ring true: it is time you answered for your crimes, and I will see to it.”

With a sickening squelch, he ripped the sword out from Pariah’s back. Pariah immediately fell to his knees, but the Fright Knight raised the sword and swung it in a wide arc. The blade cut clean into Pariah, and not a moment later, the tyrant king evaporated in a puff of red-tinted ectoplasmic mist.

Valerie’s heart panged with sympathy at the sickened look on Danny’s face, even as the crowd behind the ghost shield began to cheer and emerge to greet their hero. Sam and Tucker surged forward, towards Danny, but Valerie stayed glued in place, watching Danny as he stared at the Fright Knight in trepidation. “Did you just…?” he asked quietly. The white glow around him began to dim.

The Fright Knight dropped to one knee in front of him and held up his sword. “I swear upon my Existence that his soul will be the last this cursed blade will reap. It is only right that he should meet a fate brought about by his own doing.”

Danny still looked like he wanted to throw up. “It’s not - I didn’t…”

The glow suddenly disappeared, the prismatic sword in his hand shimmered once more and vanished, and Danny swooned. Tucker and Sam stopped in shock, but Valerie’s instincts kicked in. Her hoverboard whined to life, and she zipped over just in time to catch Danny as his legs crumpled underneath him. The magic that had repaired his suit died away; her shoulders sagged with relief when his body thankfully stayed healed.

A white ring appeared around his waist. Valerie watched with wide eyes as Phantom reverted back to Fenton in her lap. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was vaguely aware of the approaching crowd gasping in amazement, but for some reason, she found herself strangely focused on the streak in his hair, now a pure white fading seamlessly into black.

That, and the icy crown still nestled in his hair. It only seemed to stand out even more against his pitch black hair.

Blue eyes fluttered open. “Hey, Red,” he whispered with a tired, weak grin. “I think I know what you must have felt like when you fell from heaven. Or however that goes. Ow...”

Valerie had never been so grateful for her visor as she fought back the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. That was definitely something she’d be revisiting, but later. “Danny, what was that? What just happened?”

His brows knitted together in confusion as Sam and Tucker finally reached them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. and Mrs. Fenton quickly approaching too.

“I think the Ghost Zone just used me as a meat puppet?” he said.

And then he went limp in Valerie’s arms.

[good-to-drive]

So I was just chatting with someone about Paul and whether he could be on the narcissistic spectrum, and it made me want to organize my thoughts in one place.

The first thing I want to get out of the way is that being on the narcissistic spectrum doesn't mean you're a bad person. I know a lot of people disagree with that, so let's just rip the band-aid off: narcissism is a type of disordered thinking people develop as a response to childhood trauma, it is not associated with any one set of actions, it does not affect your moral compass, and treating it like a synonym for "asshole" is honestly pretty fucked up.

"But my [relative/ex partner/ex friend/etc] was a narcissist and they WERE an asshole!!"

That sucks!! I'm sorry you went through that. My best friend is on the narcissistic spectrum and they're the best person I've ever met. And if you met them you'd insist they're not a narcissist because they're not an asshole, but they're diagnosed and everything.

Saying people with narcissism are selfish, arrogant, self centered, etc is like saying people with an anxious attachment style are abusive. There's a positive correlation there (at least compared to secure and avoidant attachment styles) but they are by no means synonymous.

Narcissism is most strongly characterized by extreme feelings of self doubt and self recrimination that the sufferer tries to combat through external validation. Not by being an asshole.

Paul lost his only stable parent at a young age and was left to be the sensible one for a younger sibling and a father who was most likely a gambling addict. That level of destabilization likely prevented him from developing a strong sense of self or self worth.

Often when people with narcissism look inward they only see "emptiness," because they were prevented from developing self knowledge as a child. You HAVE a personality and a moral compass, but you don't know that you have it. Sort of like how if you'd never touched your face before you might have trouble finding your nose with your eyes closed.

This might explain why Paul tends to come across more self conscious than self aware -- which is to say, his knowledge of himself seems to only extend to the degree that he is insecure about certain aspects of himself. It might also explain why Paul had a tendency to adopt the characteristics of whoever he felt safest with, like adopting many of Linda's interests and traits once they were married.

This lack of internal self-knowledge also leads to a dependency on external validation. It's common for people on the npd spectrum to feel that what makes you a good person is to be perceived as a good person. When that perception is threatened the immense sense of emptiness and insufficiency comes roaring back and the individual tends to spiral and feel very vulnerable and hated.

To my eye, Paul was often very vulnerable to criticism, especially public criticism. He thrived under the public eye because the constant positive attention gave a strong sense of himself through others' eyes. Which is to say, he could see his himself reflected in the public eye and he generally liked what he saw, and that gave him an identity and internal consistency he might never have had before. When that image was threatened he didn't have the same level of internal self worth to fall back on that the rest of us have, so it was extraordinarily painful.

I'd also say the intensity of his relationship with John may have indicated some narcissistic tendencies. John probably had bpd (I think most of us in the fandom are on the same page about that) and had a tendency to intensely idealize his chosen person, which for someone like Paul who lacks an internal sense of self worth and identity would be extremely comforting. Being "chosen" by John would provide him with a very powerful feeling of worthiness that he might not have felt before, or at least not very often, and that might partially explain the sheer intensity of their relationship.

(I'm not saying they didn't also genuinely love each other, just that our history and past traumas inform how we relate to people in the present and John's coping mechanism of intense idealization may have dovetailed nicely with Paul's coping mechanism of external validation.)

Anyways, one thing I want to make really clear is that I'm not a psychiatrist and have never taken a psychology class in my entire life, this is exclusively based on personal research. And I mostly read about violence, addiction, and systems theory so I'm no kind of expert on narcissism. These are just some parallels I've noticed when I've run up on narcissism in other texts. Only a psychiatrist could diagnose Paul.

(That being said, Dr Honda from Psychology in Seattle IS a psychiatrist and professor and he makes a strong case for Paul being a narcissist. He discusses it briefly in his video on John's psychology, which is also totally worth watching just for its own sake because it's extremely interesting).

Edited to add:

I just wanna walk back a little on the idea that John likely had BPD, because I've been reading about BPD vs CPTSD and there's a lot I never knew. But also I get the feeling this is the kind of discussion only a clinician could have an informed opinion about, and as a layman I just want to be clear that I'm not trying to endorse BPD as a diagnosis OR deny it, I'm truly not educated or experienced enough to weigh in on whether BPD is a problematic diagnosis.

[elvesandlanterns]

Captain marvels strange little family

Chapter 3

Deep deep deeeeeeep breath. In and out. “Okay,” Billy finally managed to sigh out, “Let me get this straight.” In and out. In and out. “You’re an ex-villain who cloned a /teenage/ hero who is now king of another dimension.” Breath. “For whatever reason this clone YOURE goddaughter is destabilizing!

A-g-a-i-n And your first idea was to build an underground lair in our house to find a cure?” In and out. “I got that so far. Nod if i got that so far.” Breath. “And and and all three of you are /half/ dead. Making you a half ghost called a halfa is that all?”

Vlad stopped his nodding to glance off to the side, “Thats the majority of it yes but well…”

In and out Billy reminded himself to breathe, it cant possibly be that bad.

“Well technically theres four of us.”

Okay that not that bad-

“He’s my… son …from the future…..”

A series of banging sounds could be heard from upstairs as well as shattering glass from assumably their nice plates and the voice of a man spouting expletives. Breath in.

“And he’s coming to stay with us….” Vlad chuckled humorously, “Surprise???”

The breathing exercises are suddenly not enough.

- - -

Dan looks like them. This… stranger looks like them. Except Dans not the stranger here Billy is. And it would be enough to make Billy uneasy, to make him run off instead of being a burden. But despite Vlads loving placating demeanor, Dan sits on the couch body turned towards the window in distaste. A clear dismissive sign if he’s ever seen one in his years in foster homes, and how many years has it been? Three ? Twelve? Twenty? Wait. What?

Right, Dan clearly didn’t want to be here. Vlad by comparison looked as if they had gone back to the beginning of their arrangement. The beginning of their fights and beginning of their little awkward family. Of introducing him to Freddy and Darla. Of it just being the two of them. The inside of Billy’s mouth twisted, this was Vlad’s actual son and something told him those days were coming to a close. But if the way Dad turned to look for his approval as he set down a tray of pastries like he did every Saturday was any indication… then maybe Billy’s optimism wouldn’t be misplaced this time around.

Billy sipped his tea glancing at the halfas way as Dan outright growled at the plate of bread in front of him. Mocking Vlad’s baking skills, hurling taunts at the older mans head. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t take the bait.

Hook

Line

Sinker

Because of course Vlad had to say something back. Huhhhh in and out. Yeah Billy was probably not misplacing his trust this time around and eventually they might seven make a pretty good family. But…

Crash!

“That was a vintage piece!”

“Yeah and so are you old man!!”

A tart flew across the kids vision as the ghosties in the room began to float mid argument.

….But for now they still had a long way to go.

[welcome-to-oslov]

Aw I love you've been thinking about Bror/Tilrey trajectory too.

I wouldn't worry about it being too retcon'd! I feel like there's plenty of vibe between those two later on that's it easy to sense there was something between them underpinning the strong friendship & deep feelings if care between them.

For ex, in ASB Tilrey fighting so hard to fight off the shitty triggers after the Election Night show so he could be comforted by Bror, "They won't ruin him for me." Celinda remarking their past & ongoing closeness as if it's common knowledge. And of course Bror storming into Gersha's office, later keeping Tilrey's confidences from Gersha while still trying to mold Gersha into treating Tilrey right (confidences/trust which Bror clearly had more than anyone - as Tilrey thought about during the IntSec debacle, shocked thinking Bror had told things to Celinda that he'd only ever trusted to tell Bror). Later in the saga, when Bror was so close with him helping to seek a replacement so Tilrey could be freed.

And ofc plenty of opportunities now in Oslov Unraveled for Tilrey & Bror to reflect on who they'd been earlier in life 😏, as they live to see together Tilrey take on the role Bror would've never doubted he could do 🙌

As for breaking up... I guess I always figured that as Tilrey struggles at Linden's house, it tragically begins to feel too hard to switch gears & also be open/happy/relaxed in the way he wants/needs to be with Bror. They maybe could've overcome it, but you know how Tilrey is. And Bror's protectiveness. Maybe the love transformed back into protector/brother on both their parts even despite whatever either wanted or needed... Celinda in ASB seemed to think they were currently FWB but idk, we never did see that in ASB which opened right as he finally left Linden's house.

However your brilliant mind takes us on the journey through All Kinds of Broken, I am hopeful Tilrey gets the little interlude of love, sexual awakening, self-development he deserves at 20-21! As much as his world allows in that time in his life 😢🔥

I like the way you’re thinking! As Tilrey gets more vulnerable and traumatized, it makes sense that Bror would return to the protective role—offering help and comfort but not wanting to do anything that could destabilize Tilrey’s fragile mental state. And Tilrey might only want to be in a romantic relationship when he feels strong and capable. He has so much ambivalence about becoming vulnerable and letting down boundaries with anyone—which probably all goes back to the way Malsha screwed with his head.

And Bror is very hard for Tilrey to fool and manipulate—unlike Gersha, Bror pretty quickly sees exactly who he is. We know Tilrey’s not all that honest with Gersha until later in their relationship. The layer of inauthenticity makes him feel safer, I think—sad but true.

[venvellan]

i haven't seen much chatter abt it before, so i genuinely hate and roll my eyes at the painfully optimistic post-trespasser ending scene. the one with everyone looking over the mountainside after the exalted council.

the inquisitor spent All Fucking Day almost dying. the anchor getting progressively worse, being hounded by teagan and that slimy duke prosper's son, having to deal with an imminent qunari plan to conquer the south in the MIDST of two separate nations trying to tear the inquisition apart, and discovering such corruption within the inquisition that solas tells us that opposing spies were literally tripping over each other. in some cases, the inquisitor has to fucking kill the iron bull that day!!, and then keep trudging along while the anchor overloads and explodes every, like, minute? maybe? which absolutely could have been fatal any time it happened. and then, on death's door, suffering constant agony, they stumble through the last eluvian to learn that solas fully intends to destroy the world, and in his last act of kindness, he takes the anchor and saves their life. except now the inquisitor has no way to manipulate the veil like before, none of the power that got them to this position, and solas has the exact thing he needs to destroy the world. oh, and the extraction of the anchor leaves them suddenly disabled. better than every alternative, of course, but definitely not in the inquisitor job description.

by some incredible luck, or by just being unkillable, they get back to the exalted council, having saved all of thedas (again, for fucks sake), and use that to keep the inquisition together, or dramatically and immediately disband, which either leaves them the task of regaining control of a rapidly destabilizing organization, or jobless title-less and powerless, respectively

at this point, the pressing issue in my mind is that solas has revealed his plans to them, taken the very last thing he needed to put those plans into action, and left with "that should give you a few years of relative peace" and "live well, while time remains" as if the real message there isn't "oh yeah i'm def still gonna kill everyone in three-ish years give or take. lol, have fun while you can"

and, of course, how could i forget, sometimes that ancient unbelievably powerful mage that intends to destroy the world and kill everyone is your fucking ex boyfriend

the ending i think would be appropriate is something fearful and anxious. tense uneasiness in the advisors, uncertainty hanging thickly and painfully in the air, followed with a nice pick-me-up scene with their romance, or varric, if none apply (i'm sorry solavellaners, the heartbreak just does not end w yall). there's a chance for some real heart to heart!! give us extra dialogue, the chance to open up and really be vulnerable. THEN you can cut to the scene of the inquisitor and advisors planning where to hunt solas down, sinking the knife into the imperium on the map, fade out, roll credits

but tonal continuity doesn't mean much, i suppose, bc what we GET is the Whole Gang smiling happily into the sunset patting each other on the back for a job well done, when we've just gotten some of the worst news inquisition has EVER delivered to the player

it feels like if after leandra had died, instead of receiving concern and gentle well-wishes, we got a cutscene of hawke and friends playing beer pong and doing the cupid shuffle, with absolutely no down time. mom dead, dance party!!1! i wonder what we could possibly have to be upset about rn

i went on longer than i meant to, but.. seriously i hate that damn cutscene

[wathanism]

I've heard a lot of people in the ex muslim community say that islamophobia isn't real, and I wanted to throw in my 2 cents as someone who's lived both in swana and the west.

also some quick notes before I start:

1. I pretty exclusively refer to the middle east as swana (southwest asia and north africa) bc I find the term "middle east" to be too europe-centric.

2. I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts so feel free to reblog and add your commentary, but I don't really do debates so don't come expecting me to argue with you.

3. terfs are not welcome here and will be blocked on sight. anyone just looking to start shit will also be blocked.

first off western liberalism has never known how to talk about Islam with any level of complexity and tends to make an absolute mockery of the nuances of the lived experiences of swana people, so please don't assume I'm coming at this from the perspective of a white lady who's never stepped foot in the middle east just regurgitating whatever sounds politically correct. fr, hearing americans (both muslim and otherwise) talk about this subject gives me a headache too so let's just get it out of the way that the entire way the discussion is handled by liberals is unproductive at best and just straight dogshit at worst.

with that out of the way, I guess I'll address the first criticism of the concept of islamophobia which is that it's just racism/xenophobia. which, yeah, it absolutely is, but there's nothing wrong with having a word to explain this very specific brand of racism. our experiences as swana people are unique, and they can't be compared to the experiences of say african americans or aboriginal folk, and their experiences can't be compared to ours. I don't particularly like the term islamophobia, since it impacts all swana people regardless of religion, but it's what we got for now and until a more accurate term comes along, we gotta deal. also you can't really separate islam out of the development of this particular brand of racism.

if I understand correctly, I'd say the rejection of islamophobia in the ex muslim community comes from the simple fact that western liberals cry islamophobia as an excuse to shut down all criticism of islam, regardless of their validity. and frankly, agreed, there's truly nothing more infuriating than when someone pulls that shit, but I invite you bear with me for a second and to look at it from a different angle. because the fact of the matter is that there ARE very valid criticisms of islam and we're not going to make any progress towards human rights in swana countries until we address that.

but no amount of western liberals being really fucking annoying and misguided will change the fact that islamophobia is a real geopolitical entity used so western forces can invade and destabilize swana countries. the US has a long and documented history of backing muslim extremist groups and leaders, only to then turn around and convince their own populace that, "wow look at those evil savage barbaric muslims." this was only exacerbated by the 9/11 attack, and frankly talk to literally any human being alive in the US during that time. the shift was immediate and drastic and pretty damn disturbing. children in schools were forced to watch gruesome videos of terrorist attacks just to be told, "this is what they're like," and news outlets were very intentionally fearmongering for the sole purpose of recruiting soldiers. they weren't discussing any of the nuances or intricacies of the politics in swana; they wanted to convince people all people of this caricature of evil and they painted all swana people as being that. this is why you see even sikhs be victims of islamophobia—it was never about religion. they just needed an excuse to be xenophobic. these people do not care about the rights and freedoms of non-muslim people in swana countries. they won't fight for our women, our queer folk, our ethnic minorities. they are not our friends. if they recognize our existence at all, which they rarely do, it's just to bolster their own agenda and to ultimately justify hurting our own nations and countries even more.

it's important to recognize that this whole complicated shitshow looks very different for muslims in the west and for everyone living in swana. ALL people in swana countries feel the large scale effects of western imperialism which is justified by islamophobia. muslims in the west feel the small scale effects of islamophobia through things like hate crimes, bullying, discrimination, etc. regurgitated by non-muslims who fell for western propaganda. muslims in swana are the religious majority and they hold political power, so they don't experience the kind of 1:1 discrimination that you might see a muslim experience in the west. similarly, white christians are the majority and hold political power in the west, so muslims living there will experience that. both of these perspectives and experience deserve to be seen and represented.

this is where I think a huge part of the disconnect and miscommunication between ex-muslims and western liberals is. they don't know how to separate the nuances and the valid criticisms of islam as a political force in swana from the very aggressive warmongering rhetoric they're trying to unlearn from the propaganda that was shoved down their throats. and we as non-muslims who suffered at the hands of islamic forces barely have a say in the matter, because those of us who faced it first-hand have a target on our back if we ever try to speak out. this, combined with the fact that the experiences of western muslims are so incomparably different from those of swana people living under islamic regimes, makes it really difficult to have this conversation without stepping on any toes.

and honestly the most confusing and frustrating part of this is that, not only is islamophobia a geopolitical force used to enforce violence in swana, but islam itself is ALSO a major geopolitical force used to enforce violence in swana. and somehow, counterintuitively, they feed into each other! the west benefits from instability in swana countries, and islamic regimes benefit from western support. and at the end of the day, everyone gets fucked over (to varying degrees) except for non-muslim westerners and the violent dictators they support.

honestly, I don't know how progress can be made from here. we're kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place. the situation in Iran, tragic as it is, is a good jumping off point to maybe FINALLY talk about this matter with some nuance. I can only hope the sacrifices of the brave women of Iran will not go to waste. call me an optimist, but I want to believe for my own sanity that good will come from this and we can finally make some tangible steps towards meaningful progress in our nations.

EDIT: I also feel the need to super quickly clarify my intention with making this post: I'm not saying ex-muslims shouldn't criticize islam. it takes like 2 seconds on my blog to see that I'm all about calling out the negative impacts of islam on the lives of all swana people. my intention was just to point out that we're all screwed over by the same forces and to encourage a sense of solidarity wherever there may be space for it. it's probably a long shot, but it sure would be nice if we could facilitate a productive conversation with muslims and ex-muslims alike that goes beyond arguing in circles.

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 45: Where?

I smiled as I stared at myself in the mirror of mine and Albert's room. My belly was covered in many stretch marks. Today was the day my and Albert's vows would be renewed. I was fluttering in excitement.

"Nighthawk to Phoenix, do you read me boss lady?" Nighthawk's voice came through my com choker.

"What's wrong, hawk?" I said, accepting the link.

"Nothing. I was just letting you know everything is set up, and you should start getting ready. I'll be up there to escort you down in roughly thirty minutes time." He said as the coms disconnected.

"Always in a rush." I sigh, shaking my head.

Quickly, I start to change. I wasn't doing anything fancy with my hair and makeup. I didn't need much prepping for these events since being infected with the Angelis virus.

Slowly, I draped the lovely two part gown over my body. The lavender lace clinging to my baby bump, creating a globe of lotus petals. While the fabric was somewhat scratchy, I couldn't help but run my hand over the children. I felt so happy.

I never wanted to lose this moment. I wish I had a camera to save this thought forever. This was a field of mental bliss. Just me and my unborn children, I felt a small set of kicks as I smiled.

I heard the elevator open. Nighthawk must be here to esscort me to the library. I removed my com choker as a tinge of unease fell over me. Nighthawk was never this quiet.

"Wesk! Is that you love?" I shouted out, grabbing my samurai edge from the trunk at the foot of our bed.

Nothing but silence. I loaded my pistol  and stepped out of mine and Albert's room. The common area seemed darker than normal. I walked out facing the elevator, noticing nothing strange. I quickly faced the balcony and living room.

After a brief second, I felt a sharp stinging in my neck that dropped me to my knees. What the fuck! Pain surged through my body. I hadn't felt anything like this since Angelis bound itself to my genetic code. My vision was blurry. My body was burning as I could feel my muscles loosen and contract rapidly. In a searing wave of pain, I released my firearm, unable to keep a solid grip on it

"Well , well, well, just look at you now, dear sister in law." I heard a distorted voice say.

I saw white leather dress shoes step in front of me. My vision was slowly fading, but in my desperation, my body fought against whatever was assailing it. The voice wasn't clear in tone, but I knew for damn sure who did this.

"ALEX!" I instantly covered my mouth.

A jolt of shock and horror shook me. My voice sounded just like my mutated forms. What was happening to me. I grabbed my side and toppled over. My pain had tripled in agony in a matter of seconds.

"Poor poor darling Tabitha, look how you have fallen to me. Vladimir certainly was on the right track with this destabilizing agent. An antigen would have probably killed you by now, so this destabilizing toxin was perfect for you. Can't risk hurting Albert's children after all." She mused at my expense.

A feral growl escaped my throat. I reach for my neck only to remember I has previously removed my choker because I thought it would clash with the dress. I let my guard down for a day that should have been nothing but happy. I was furious, not only with myself but with the obstacle in my way. Should I just lash out or try and drag myself to get my comlink.

"Reduced to base instincts, aren't you? Fight or flight? The itch to kill what is threatening not only you but your unborn brood or the desire to cower away to your and Albert's room? Face it, my silly little sister in law you've always been nothing more than an animal for Umbrellas entertainment." Alex laughed as I heard the elevator open again, Nighthawk strode into my view.

"Lady Alex, have you secured your captive?" He said to my disbelief.

"Agent Nighthawk! Ex-explain your s-self!" I barely mustered out.

He turned to face me, and my heart sunk. His eyes once gleaming hawk like yellow eyes were glazed over and a sullen grey. His eyes were the same as mine when I was under the control of Sergei.

"I must say you train your people well deary. It took the highest setting to control him. Even now, I can see it in his face, his eyes in particular. He is fighting for control. To save you from what he knows is about to happen. But no one can save you now, my dear sweet Tabitha." Alex laughed as she snapped.

Nighthawk walked towards me and slid a syringe in my neck. He lifted me as my body went numb. I could feel his heart pounding against his chest.  Alex walked up to me and pulled out a scalpel from her sleeve.

"Sorry, deary, but I need this to be believable." Alex said, grabbing my head by my bangs.

Even in my drugged haze, I had enough energy to spit in her eye. That earned me a harsh slap across my face. She quickly cut good-sized gash on my forehead as she wiped her eye.

I felt the blood trickle down my face. It's sticky warmth, quickly drying, leaving an irritating path of flaky  ichor. As the drug slowly overpowered my weakened body, I felt soft but yet cold icy arms position me bridal style. 

"Now deary, it's time to rest. When you next awaken, you shall be in your new home." Alex said with her back turned wiping what little blood there was on her hands on the wall leading to the elevator.

I looked into Nighthawk's eyes, and I saw flecks of yellow starting to burst through the grey. He truly was fighting her. He looked down at me, and the concern in his eyes was palpable. He groaned as if to say he knew.

"Knock her out. We can't risk having her giving away our position." Alex barked as the elevator opened.

Nighthawk gripped my pressure point near my carotid artery. As everything went to black.

(Wesker's P.O.V.)

"Ten minutes," I murmured under my breath as I stared out over the library.

My lotus had worked wonders on the Gothic architecture, making it feel hospitable and inviting. The warm atmosphere matched a gentle spring day as what few guests we had invited  chatted amongst themselves.

Jill and Gale were sitting front and center next to the aisle. They were hand in hand. They had appeared to have grown close over these past few months. Even with Jill under my control for missions, she seemed to have stopped fighting against the no contact order. She hasn't attempted to reach out to Chris or the B.S.A.A.

"Ahh, Dr. Wesker, glad to see you." Arias said, walking up to me to my slightest annoyance.

"Welcome, Glen. I'm glad you were able to make it to this important celebration for me and Tabitha." I said, offering my hand in which he quickly took giving it a firm shake.

"Don't think about it. In all honesty, I'm grateful to your wife for extending the invitation. It's quite lovely. Where is Ms. Tabitha? I'd like to extend my gratitude to her as well."  Glen said, looking around the room.

"She is currently on her way from what I was told by my stepson." I said, looking towards the entrance of the library.

Arjuna was there, his blue streaks of hair slicked back, and the collar of his button-up looked disheveled. He seemed on edge. I know he had instructed Nighthawk to fetch my dear lotus so we could start the ceremony.  That was almost forty minutes ago.  He kept messing with him comlink. Something didn't set quite right with me.

"Excuse me, Glen. I'm going to go speak with Arjuna." I bluntly said dismissing Arias from my mind.

With a quickened pace, I walked up to  my step-son. As I got close, I could see in his posture that he was panicked. I pulled him aside.

"What is the situation, Archer?" I said, adjusting my sunglasses.

"The coms are down, I can't get ahold of mom or Nighthawk. Hell, it's not even connecting to Gale or the guards I have stationed around the base." He said, ripping the choker off in frustration.

"How long?" I said unease, setting in.

"Thirty-five minutes, just after my partner went to fetch T." He groaned, "The last contact was between my partner and her. At least, that was what White Queen told me when she finished diagnostics."

"I'm going to check on them. Hopefully, I will run into them on the way." I said about to open the door.

"Take Gale and Jill with you. I hate saying this, but something isn't sitting right with me." Archer said, grabbing my wrist.

He boldness stunned me for a brief moment. Normally, Arjuna was more reticent with his actions. The fact he so brazenly grabbed me stood out.

"If you insist, I shall accommodate your request. Actually, you and I both are thinking something isn't how it's supposed to be." I said, "keep the guests here. We will be back shortly."

I walked over to Chambers and Valentine. When they saw my face, they nodded and stood up. We quickly exited the library.

"You don't think Tabs got cold feet, do ya?" Gale asked Jill as we rushed through the hallways, searching for my lotus.

"Not a chance, Gale. I saw the dress as soon as it arrived. The glee on her face was  unmistakable. She was really looking forward to today." Jill said.

We quickly reached the elevator to mine and Tabitha's room. We hadn't run into my lotus or Nighthawk. However, as soon as I gazed upon the ground, I felt my eyes flare. There smeared on the dull concrete was a moderate blood trail, coming from the elevator. They noticed it, too.

"Gale! You check the room! Jill, follow me! Something happened!" I snarled, calling the elevator for Gale.

"On it! You go find Tabs." Gale said, getting on the elevator.

Jill and I quickly followed the trail. It slowly tappered off, but its direction was leading towards the secret exit that led into the nearby mountains that Markus had built in as an escape route. A primal need to protect was coursing through my blood. As if realizing it's master was in dire need, Angelis activated. My vision drastically became sharper, and my sense of smell was picking up faint traces of blood and sweet pea perfume.

The new information led me down a neglected section of hallways and tunnels. The lights were shattered out, and the tunnels were lit with dying emergency lighting embedded in the wall. There was a thick layer of dust on the floor. Stopping for a moment, I noticed something along the hall ahead leading to the door.

There were two sets of footprints, and neither were my sweet lotus's. The first was a set of boots. Clearly, someone came prepared. The next set of dust tracks was peculiar. They were of a set of dress shoe tracks. They were petite, and the heel was a thick wedge of some sort.

My field of vision turned red, and I bolted, leaving Jill behind. Tabitha was all I had on my mind. I had a task I needed to complete. Get my beloved wife back.

I ripped the door out of the wall with little effort. The rusted object was no match for me. I keep going forward only to stop and see nighthawk being shot out of a black helicopter that was hovering roughly thirty feet in the air.

As soon as nighthawk hit the ground, the helicopter started ascending and flew off. My emotions went cold. There wasn't any anti-aircraft weaponry long the mountains. I decided that when i started using this base, I wasn't going to fully retrofit it with weaponry along the mountains to keep it hidden from Satellites.

I noticed that nighthawk was trying to force himself up. I walked over towards him. My anger flared like a blazing wild fire. As I got to him, there was dust caked on his combat boots.

He opened his eyes that were almost flickering back and forth between his natural color and a hazy grey. His body spasmed as his hand covered the  gunshot wound in his left pectoral. He had landed on his back, and his once immaculate wings were unfurled splayed out on the ground.

"Wesker, sir. I failed." He coughed out as  blood poured from his lips. "Damn that woman!"

I heard three sets of people running up behind me as I lifted up nighthawk  by his collar. He looked like he was on deaths door, awaiting the sickle to swing down to end his suffering. The grey his eyes kept shifting to was the same color that my darling lotus's were when she was being controlled by Sergei.

"Wesker!" Gale shouted, running up behind me, grabbing my shoulder ,"It was Alex!"

Everything just stopped. I felt myself let go of the dying Phoenix Corps agent and turn to face Chambers. He had a look of pure hatred on his face.

Jill and Archer ran behind us and started treating Nighthawk's wounds. With a single motion, Gale opened his hand, revealing a note on worn Umbrella stationary.

I took it from his hands and unfolded it. In dark ink, there was a penned note from Alex.

"Brother, it is a shame thing have become like this. I believe we should talk. Fret not, I won't harm a hair on my nieces or nephews. Your weak, useless, and pitiful wife is in my care now. It would be a shame should anything happen to your favorite toy, right? I shall reach out through Nighthawk in a weeks time. It's time you remember where you belong, Brother. If you don't, I'll be sure your Lotus wilts away and the last thorn in father's side will be destroyed."

White...blank...where!? Where is she!? Where did that bitch take you my love?!?!

"ALEX!!!" I snarled out as the guards of Phoenix Corps. surrounded nighthawk, placing him in B.O.W. restraining  cuffs and escorting him into the base.

"Wesker!" Jill called out to me.

Slowly, I realized that I had to play this strategically. Alex was as intelligent as I was. She clearly had a plan in place, and I could play into her hands if I wasn't careful. 

I looked over the edge of the mountains, "I will not be away from you long, my dear lotus. Of that, I promise."

Hey everyone, Silfarianhawk here. We are on to the next ark. Oh, this will be fun... at least for me, that is. I hope ya'll have an amazing day. As always, my name is Silfarianhawk, and  I'm not so far away.

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

ik people said We are never ever getting back together is abt Jake but sometimes i feel something harry with that song. Do you think it's harry styles inspired?

I do not. I mean, she may have pulled some HS stuff into live performances over the years but the actual song, nope.

She wrote it with Max Martin and Shellback in spring 2012 (and put aside Message in a Bottle to work on it). Let’s go over what the ex-boyfriend in question does:

- needs space/changes mind

- declares love only when it advances his agenda

- picks fights to destabilize her

- is disdainful of her music (and her taste in general)

What does she say about Harry?

- hurts her early on because despite genuine feelings is flaky/seems to not commit or prioritize her (Then he does the HYGTG/James apology to overcome)

- terrible driver

- poor shared communication. They can never get the timing right, and maybe at under 21/as an insanely famous boybander he cannot offer her the relationship stability she wants.

Also - she often talked about how they were on-and-off and might always be (“might interrupt your wedding…the narrative is never truly over”). So no declarations of “we are done” directed at him!

[notenderlaith]

There's more to Portrait of a Blank Slate... [TW for dark subjects]

I have an interpretation of Portrait of a Blank Slate that makes way to much sense to me. So here's my lyrical analysis. [you might want to grab a drink this is basically a news article]

!!WARNING!!

This post talks about ab*se, personality disorders, neglect, and death. If these subject trigger you, please take care of yourself and do not read this post!

!!DISCLAIMER!! I am not a professional in anything and definitely not in psychology!!

!!The reason why I hold the views that I do is because of self education and personal experience. Know that things are complex and do not use this as a source of real life information for any reason. This is a post about art, not science and truth!!

The plot line

There are three characters: The narcissist(narc), the singer, and the victim. The victim and singer were once dating but then broke up. The victim then started dating the narcissist and is pulled into an abusive relationship. The singer still has feelings for the victim and seeing how their current relationship is unhealthy, tries to get back with them. But the victim says they are happy in their current relationship and says that they found their relationship with the singer to be boring.

What you need to know about Narcissism

Narcissism Definition (According to Mayo Clinic) : Personality qualities include thinking very highly of oneself, needing admiration, believing others are inferior, and lacking empathy for others.

The manipulation tactics of narcissists:

Bullet points:

They target codependents

They make you feel special

They use shock, awe, and guilt

They gaslight

They play hot and cold games

Making a person dependent on them. Narcissist ensure absolute control by making someone completely dependent on them. They do this by isolating the person. They tell them to not talk to other people, and control the communication methods. They say things like "I'm the only one you'll ever need." and eventually once the victim is trapped they say things like "No one will love you but me." and "You would be nothing with out me". They tear down their victim and rebuild them to serve the narcissist.

Ex: They try to make others feel special using compliments and flattery to obtain control over their victim. They then go on to play with difficult emotions like shock, awe, and guilt to maintain control over their victim. Narcissists also gaslight or practice master manipulation, weakening and destabilizing their victims; finally, they utilize positive and negative emotions or moments to trick others

They make you feel special: These self-centered individuals also go out of their way to make others feel special; not because they genuinely value something about the individual but to manipulate them. “In their personal relationships, narcissists most often gain control over others by playing to a person’s (very understandable) desire to feel special and highly valued,” says Clinical Psychologist Forrest Talley. “The narcissist may say, for example, ‘Although I only just met you, it’s clear to me that you are exceptionally bright and capable. I have a very select group of people, much like yourself, that I like to keep in contact with… I want you to be part of that group. Just give me your phone number and I’ll add it to my secret black book.’ (Sound ridiculous? It is, but nevertheless, this is what one narcissist told me years ago… no, not a patient).”

They use shock, awe, and guilt: Narcissists continue to gain control of the people in their lives by eliciting difficult emotions. “After going through a period of ‘grooming’ someone for a close relationship, the narcissist moves on to use shock, awe, and guilt to maintain control,” Talley explains. “The shock and awe come from the over-the-top, emotionally charged tantrums that erupt when the friend (spouse or lover) has done something that disappointed the narcissist. Most normal people find such dramatic reactions exhausting and strange, therefore, they begin to work hard to avoid a repeat performance.”

Hot and Cold games: “One week, they’ll flatter you to get you to do what they want, and the next week, they’ll use aggression. The negative moments are interspersed with positive ones so that you might not even realize that you’re being manipulated. The only way to defeat this is to be cautious of the flattery and positivity when it comes. Take every action with a grain of salt, and don’t let the love-bombing be a form of bribery towards you. Niceties shouldn’t be conditional.”

How a narcissist reacts to a loss of control: When a narcissist can’t control you, they’ll likely feel threatened, react with anger, and they might even start threatening you.

Source: https://thriveworks.com/blog/how-narcissists-control-you/ (the above is almost a direct copy of the article, other bits added via personal experience and already acquired knowledge.)

Information from personal experience, years of research, and therapists: Narcissists don't actually think they are the best. Deep inside of them they push away the realization of all their faults and their actions are an attempt to 'prove those faults wrong'/hide them from others. They use their codependents to validate themselves.

!!DISCLAIMER!! For the information about narcissistic personality disorder (NPD), It is an incredibly basic description of the condition. In fact it is just the bare minimum to get a basic understanding of my view point. Please, if you feel like it is relevant to you in anyway, do your own research and talk to professionals. Do not make any assumptions on this information.

Lyric analysis

Here I will list the lyrics that speak the loudest on this interpretation and provide support for my opinions.

"He told me that much and now he's dead, Told me to kill my indulgences, With a sharp blow to the temple, Pick up the phone call and do everything he says"

This is the first lines from the song and it describes blindly following someone (the victim) to do very drastic things. I can't exactly tell what is going on but I do know these things:

Someone said something to the victim and now they are dead (physically or mentally or socially)

The victim then makes/takes a phone call and does everything the other person (the narcissist) tells them to do.

While it is unclear if the person who is dead is a personification of "my indulgences" or if they are separate. Either way, both parties (victim and narc) are aware of an inhalation of someone in someway and it is beneficial to the narcissist.

"So I'll wait here for you Said, "Please, just let me stay" Oh, just let me stay, oh"

This is the singer speaking. The victim has told the singer that they are not going to be interacting with them anymore; likely because the narcissist is isolating the victim to gain further control. The singer, who still cares for the victim is begging "Please, just let me stay"

"I guess you know now what to expect He lives your own life in retrospect You know it bores me? These insecurities"

This is an indication that this relationship dynamic has been going on for a while now. Now the victim is fully engulfed and under the control of the narc and the singer has now learned the way of the narc via observation. Looking back on it, the singer can tell how the victim is no longer there own person and utterly lacks a sense of self as they are living as an extension of the narc. The singer tells the victim how "it bores me", they are over it and "these insecurities" as in the insecurities of the narc, the singer doesn't understand the appeal of having to provide an excessive amount of validation to the narc.

"Breaks you down just to act as the architect"

This is the singer commenting on how the victim is not the same person they where when they were dating the singer. The narc has taken the victims sense of self and rebuilt the victim around the narc. Which is very common for a narcissist to do to codependents.

"Oh, so happy, oh, oh, so happy If only you knew just how much better things could be"

This is an alteration of an earlier line, but this time it acknowledges that the victim has become completely unaware that they are victim. The narc now has total control over them. The singer knows that the victim has become ignorant and wonders how they might respond to seeing to truth.

"Another week of action Another hypoglycemic reaction"

This relationship has been going on for a while and as the weeks pass by all parties are pulling in different directions. The longer things go on the worse things get and the victim being completely dependent on the narc is now at their utter mercy. The singer keeps pushing the narc away from the victim and in response, the narc harms the victim. Hurting both the victim directly and the singer indirectly. Trying to incentivize others to stop interfering with their control. The hypoglycemic reaction is likely referencing how basic needs are at mercy of the situation. The narc might cut off food supply as a punishment to he victim and the singer might be so occupied trying to 'save' the victim that they start neglecting themselves.

"I'm sorry, it's all so predictable"

This line seems to re-enforce the idea that is generally thought about when I ask what the meaning of this song is, but I think it supports my ideas as well. The thing is, narcissists are very predictable, once you identify a narc you can essentially read the like a script, and tell what's next in the story. Also, the singer is predictable, it is easy to guess how they will respond to the narcissist. And the codependent is also predictable, as we know that they will remain in the narcs control. It's ALL predictable.

What does this say about Wilbur?

Wilbur is known to be pretty private about his personal life and so there isn't much to go off of when it comes to what traumatic experiences he may have been through. He has mentioned once in an interview that his parents went through a divorce when Will was finishing middle school and how that affected his mental health. But he didn't go into detail on why the divorce happened.

Still, there is no telling what personal experiences he's had and how they affected this songs lyrics. He says that he writes about his personal experiences and other people often find them to be relatable. So there really are no answers for this question.

As a bit of a disclaimer, I will say that there is a heavy chance that I'm projecting, but these lyrics describe a dynamic with virtually zero accurate representations in media, and does so with great precision. I feel like even if this wasn't the intended meaning of the lyrics, or maybe he was just unaware that this was an experience he's had, this interpretation has some swell standing.

Another disclaimer: !!DON'T TRY TO DIG INTO WILBURS (or anyone's) PERSONAL LIFE!! If he doesn't bring it up then you don't bring it up!

Let me know what you think and Thank you for reading! <3

[abrthephantomq]

TIME FOR ME TO POST THIS.

Listen, y'all. I know I have like 50 folks who'll even see this, but --

Being mentally ill and not entirely up to maintaining a job while also raising your kid is HARD. I've managed to go this long without reaching out to others and doing the crowdfunding thing -- but I can't go any further without doing so.

I'm gonna copy/paste the post I made on my fb about it, too -- for more detail in case folks care. And include some lovely screenshots of a text conversation between me and my ex-wife, who is... helping but not helping lol. If that makes sense. All of those will be under the Read More.

Figuring out the pattern to us making progress through various traumas and resolving various things we've shamed ourselves about for far, far too long when it was, in fact, incredibly human of us to feel that way is both helpful and also terrifying. We've confirmed 11 alters -- in the order they arrived, I suspect.

We started the process for working on #12's introduction. I'll probably learn their name and a bit about them and a bit of what trauma they hold (if any -- some don't!) within the next month or so. Which can be... pretty destabilizing. But it's how the System wants to approach this -- one at a time, in order, from early childhood 'til adulthood.

It's a process. It's also progress. Learning not to be ashamed of certain things -- of not being perfect. Of having to actually take care of ourselves first and foremost so that we can actually help others the way we need.

And now we're asking for help. I've set up a GoFundMe -- I'll be linking it below. I know I don't have enough to pay my electric bill this month, at present. I have enough food in the house that Bob and I are covered, in that regard. But my essential bills are about ~1100 a month (including food), probably closer to ~1200, and Evelyn sends me $750 in child support. It is sincerely appreciated that she did increase her child support payment, but obviously it's not enough.

If you have any leads on a remote, part-time position, that would also be great. I've been looking but the whole process gives me so much fucking anxiety to just look and find jobs that aren't scams, I've been struggling.

I am also attaching the conversation I had with my ex-wife about it, to show that she is helping in other ways. But also that she's a portion of the reason why I struggle with asking for help. This was a CIVIL conversation between the two of us.

When you grow up being the "easy" child and not asking for much / being low maintenance, it's incredibly difficult to ask for help and to rely on your community. I am trying. I really, really am. But I am allowed to need help. I am allowed to ask for it, and it does not make me any less than who I was prior.