philius

Prometheus deserved so much better than the Alien franchise and its fans…

It took me 5 years to realise that, but it’s true. Though Covenant ruined everything to me, the fact that its sequel gets canceled still breaks my heart. I cannot say I did not see that coming. Ridley Scott betrayed his own vision, all of this for what? Evil Fa$$bender making out with himself, and aliens. Covenant barely scored 50% of what Prometheus did, and Prometheus made over 40% of the entire franchise’s fortune. More of the same was a terrible idea - bold new concepts WERE the safe bet! We will never see Engineers again. My answers are lost, for the questions no longer matter. In my book, Covenant did not happen. Prometheus is a standalone film, now and forever. Shaw found her God, never to return. I am leaving you, as I log out for good (probably) with what I waited 5 years for… A 2 minutes video of Shaw and David’s legendary dynamic. The Crossing. 

I dedicate this blog, all the effort put into it, all the passion, to Dr Elizabeth Shaw, and the amazing human being who brought her to life - Noomi Rapace. Thank you, Noomi, for the greatest performance to have ever graced sci-fi genre. This is Philius, singing off…

Past Crimes | Xeno

May 5th, 1979 | Aversio Meeting

@xeno-philius


Pardon Orion Black?  Bagnold was out of her mind.  The message would be heard loud and clear in the wizarding world: it was okay to be a Death Eater if you knew the right people.  Lucinda had thought better of the woman she had voted for but what credibility she had given her was gone.  Whether or not the Minister knew of all the man’s past crimes didn’t matter; knowing he was a Death Eater should have been enough.  No one else would have received this kind of treatment from the government.  No one should have received it in the first place.  This wasn’t justice.

Lucinda took a deep breath and unclenched her fist to open the door.  The long walk she’d taken to get to the Aversio meeting had done nothing to diminish her anger.  What it had done, however, was get her to the stage where she felt ready to do something about it when she entered the room Aversio was meeting in tonight.

“Have you heard this blether about pardoning Orion Black,” Lucinda questioned as she caught sight of Xeno, the only other member who had arrived early.

@xeno-philius

he wakes up that morning and it feels like he’s suffocating.

he doesn’t like it. this feeling of a rock weighing down his rib cage, and it doesn’t go away when he washes his face, when he showers, and goes to work, flips through his charms books with an absent gaze and a mind wandering nowhere and anywhere at once.

he goes out for a walk. there’s a place he remembers that feels quite nice, and he wants that now. he doesn’t pause to think if there’s anyone home, if he was heading the right way, if he was imposing. he stops before an old and beaten caravan and his lips pull up slightly at the corners. a laugh slips past and he walks up the rickety wooden plank and into the van – he ducks beneath a curtain of flowery cloth and cast his gaze about the enlarged space.

xeno isn’t here. he takes a deep breath, and his lungs fill with air. he walks towards the bookshelves and makes himself at home. by the time the door to the van rattles open, dirk is already laying between worn cushions at the window seat, a chapter and a half into  Goblinproofing One’s Chicken Coop, forgetting by that time why he’d come here in the first place. “you’re out of groceries, you know that?” he calls back, a cheeky grin stretching his lips. he looks up. “i took the liberty of watering your vervains, by the way. they looked a bit welt-y.”

the dollhouse effect | Marlene & Xeno

Xenophilius Lovegood’s home
May 7, 1979
{ @xeno-philius }

The return home had been among one of the most difficult decisions Marlene had to make. It shouldn’t have been - for what it was worth, she generally adored London, even in the state of things, vicious war bleeding devastation into the streets at every possible moment - but it had been so nice to get away. Of course, the vast majority of her time in France had been spent forged to Dirk’s side, keeping him from getting into trouble (or more accurately, any trouble without her). But that wasn’t to say the grande escape from reality hadn’t been nice. So it had been primarily for Aversio, and any time not supporting Cresswell had been spent drinking and flirting with French men of both magical and Muggle persuasion – but nobody knew her. France was relatively disinterested in London’s war, so long as it didn’t stretch to their cities. There, Marlene could get away with being herself - the old version, the one that hadn’t been kidnapped, hadn’t been broken. Fuck, if she didn’t miss that.

In the recent days since returning home, Marlene had found herself desperately trying to detach. The ability to dissociate and live in a state of denial, a drug induced haze making it easier not to dwell, was something she had found herself being rather good at. It was far easier to ignore the pain she felt than drown within its weight - that much she had figured out long ago. It was why she had gone out of her way to find other ways of living; drinking, smoking, constantly staying busy. Eventually it was sure to come crashing down, but for now… now, she knew better than to question it. 

She had been home for only a handful of days from her trip out of the country, when word had come ‘round of a party. Never one to turn down an invitation for a good time, even if it was likely to be accompanied by pitiful glances as everyone realized she was that girl - the one who should have died, unlike Dorcas. A few drinks in - okay, maybe more than a few - and she’d be capable of blocking it out, just like always. That was the mindset Marlene kept in mind as she arrived, the trademark pop of Apparation announcing her arrival, clad in her leather jacket and worn combat boots, strawberry tinted hair tied atop her head in a lazy attempt at not having to wash it. So she didn’t know what party she was at, or really much of anyone save for faces— making the most of social situations was her specialty. It took a moment before the smell of smoke hit her nostrils, the telltale sign of a fire, a reminder this was not her usual sort of crowd but who was she to complain. “Got room for one more?”