the temporal

Not to reach but remember many moons ago when the show runners said something along the lines of Lance matures in a lot of ways and grows to realize it’s better to have that one person you like having around?

How does a person come to this realization unless said person temporally isn’t around?

Prediction: Lance comes to realize his feelings for Keith in his absence.

(Anyone have the direct quote? I am worrying I am remembering it wrong.)

devemos aprender enfrentar nossas tempestades, sabe? aprender a sobreviver ao temporal e saber como seguir em frente depois. fugir de nada adianta e arriscar às vezes nos surpreende e por mais que o medo nos invada sabemos que, em algum lugar no fundo de nossas almas, é necessário passar por tudo aquilo. causa estragos e cicatrizes, mas ouça, isso tudo faz parte de você agora e significa que você sobreviveu, que você é forte. a vida é turbulenta às vezes mas cabe à nós criarmos nosso próprio ponto de calmaria.

Ana Flávia Castro.
Fictober Day 22

I was thinking today that when I read fanfic, my favourite Mulder is a dark Mulder.  Cerebus at the Gates of Hell dark.  But when I write him, he’s usually snide and broken, but not particularly dark, possibly because I can identify well with sarcasm and emotional handicaps, but not very well with darkness.  I figured I’d try to tease out his dark side for a change.

Set during the execution scene in Pine Bluff Variant.  Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic


It was a fitting fucking end.

Dead at 37, an executioner’s bullet burrowing a meaty tunnel through his temporal lobe.  Scully could live out her patho-masturbatory dream of peeling back his brain pan to see what made him tick.  Skinner could act as diener.

He struggled forward over the frost-bound clods of earth, thousand-yard stare on the horizon.

His limbic system telegraphed a Morse code of neural messages that his body confused with arousal. Or perhaps his responses to fear and to love really were identical.  Either way, he was getting stiff long before rigor set in.

The torn roofing of the abandoned greenhouse draped like shrouds all around him, reminding him of a grimly decorated reception.  He was a solitary guest at the wedding of his mortality and the hereafter.

The fatal irony was he was going to die trying to protect the American populace from anti-government activity.  People like those in the theatre in Ohio who would jeer at his work on the X-Files; jock-scratching and cow-tipping their lives away until the skies cleaved open and they became alien cannon fodder.

Dying for a cause he believed in was near the top of his “ways to buy it” list, just below brain aneurism while getting head during the ninth inning of a Yankees’ World Series win.  But that was before either was within the realm of immediate possibility.  Now he had a Walther PPK pointed at his head, and Torres’ boys were hitting hot, after a shaky start to the season.  He was willing to hold out for the brass ring.

As it was, his last public act would be a bank robbery; a federal crime; a modern day John Dillinger in a cheap latex mask.  If he was in the mood to look for a silver lining, at least Scully knew he wasn’t a sell-out to common domestic terrorists.  His version of bringing down the government had a nobler, less cadaverous feel.

He cursed Skinner and Leamus for expecting him to sacrifice his life for a case that wasn’t even an X-File. Buried deep in his back closet of self-reproach was the fact that while Scully lay dying of cancer, he envied her.  Becoming a martyr for the cause was his prerogative, not hers, and he haunted her bedside, jealously guarding the gates to paradise. When she got well, he carried around twin millstones of guilt: that he had indirectly caused her illness, and that he had hated her for outpacing him in the race to crucifixion.  Trust a Catholic.

He knelt in the withering grass, wondering who would find his body, how long it would lie in this desolate place before discovery.  He hoped it wasn’t Scully.  He could wish that small mercy on her at least.

The snick of the trigger being cocked was all he could hear, and he began to pray: Adonai melech Adonai malach Adonai yimloch l’olam va’ed.

anonymous asked:

the Hero in EoS, after the events of Temporal Tower, wakes up in limbo and then gets summoned into starting the events of GtI by Hydreigon shortly after. Nothing about Gate's story is changed. after the Hero disappears in GtI, they reappear back on the beach at Treasure Town, just like EoS's ending. The Worldcore portal instead serves as a portal between the two continents.

anonymous asked:

you suck

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Random Scene #21 or Cat!Rip #4

(Another Cat!Rip story. This time from Rip’s POV)

Everything was peaceful on the Waverider as it drifted through the temporal zone. For once, the corridors of the ship were quiet. There was none of the usual chatter or ruckus. The ship’s crew were all fast asleep in their rooms. No one was suffering from insomnia. No one was troubled by nightmares. No one was up getting a midnight snack.

So no one was around to notice the other ship creeping up on them through the green swirling energies of the time stream.

No one but Gideon, that is, and she only had a few seconds to contemplate the odd readings coming from the sensors and wonder whether it was worth troubling the team about before a blast hit the ship and all her systems went down.

And then there truly was no one, no one to see as the other ship drew closer…

The tremor which shook the Waverider was so strong it knocked Rip right out of his bed.

As he fell, he instinctively twisted his body around in mid-air and managed to land safely on the ground on all four paws.

Paws.

Rip’s whiskers drooped.

So, he thought glumly, still a cat.

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De haber sabido que íbamos a ser temporales, le hubiese pedido al tiempo que se desaparezca, por un par de minutos, por un par de horas, por un par de años, por un par de eternidades.
—  El chico invisible.