#he's going on a journey to rediscover himself and his humanity

[doortotomorrow]

cooper howard » adopting cx404

[koolades-world]

the inspiration behind this idea came from one of my favorite vocaloid songs from back in the day. rediscovering the song gave me some great inspo. the songs is about gukapo, whose likely playing a character for the purpose of this song, the purple haired man in the thumbnail, who sees a girl he’s immediately enamored with after she runs into him at a party. after following her out of the venue, he sees her with another man and kidnapped her. her holds her captive and later kills her lover. at the end of sing, she rejects his advances and it’s implied he hurts or kills her. I love vocaloid :)) at one point in the songs he's like "i'll just cut off your legs so you can't run from me" and that screams barb. dark vocaloid is one of my fav genres

had a tough time picking between belphie or barb, but you guys decided for me!!

quick warning! the beginning of the song is a little loud and scared me the first time I listened. it’s just some rain and glass breaking but just know not to have it too loud if you do listen. also general warnings of yandere themes, kidnapping, bodily harm to both parties involved, and blood.

alright i've rambled enough now! If you couldn't tell i was very excited to write this. please enjoy!

Destiny

"You didn't notice? It has been written in the stars that we were to be together since the beginning of time. It's just a shame we faced so many 'bumps in the road,' on our journey where our paths converged to one, as he always put it."

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, and he knew it.

You’d noticed his gradual changes in behavior. At first, it was nothing to you. Finding excuses to see you throughout the day with small tokens of his affection, and brief moments spend hidden in closest together to avoid being seen by Lucifer or Diavolo that turned into more, despite the fact that he had no need to hide from them. You suspected he treasured these moments, just like you did, so who were you to object? He treated you like the crown jewels, and you weren't even certain he was this close to Diavolo.

His obsession gradually grew slowly, and you were none the wiser, like a frog set in a pot of water that had yet to be turned to boil. "It was just Barbatos being Barbatos" you thought as he began to show up in your room any night you weren't staying at a palace with treats made specially for you. "It's just because he cares" you thought as he started to fend off demons he deemed as untrustworthy in all parts of your life. "He's so sweet" you thought as he began blocking off portions of his day for time with you, and only you. "He must really care! I'm so lucky to have him in my life." These thoughts are exactly what he had intended to plant into your head all along.

Unbeknownst to you, despite his signature air of indifference, Barbatos had been taken with you from the start. He had hoped you'd come to live with him in the palace, but unfortunately, the Young Master has wanted you with the brothers instead. It wasn't a problem, however. He made sure to make an effort to make his way into your life even if it was somewhere he didn't belong. Despites his efforts though, you grew much too close to Solomon for his liking. He often opted to go out of his way to separate the two of you, so he could keep you all for himself.

But what did that damned sorcerer have that he didn't? His humanity. Although it was long gone, he knew what it was like to be human. The thought of this infuriated Barbatos. The fact that something as simple as human mortality was keeping him away from Mc absolutely would not do. Of course, it wasn't something he couldn't fix. His hatred for the

He could just swap to the timeline where he was the apple of their eye, without all the playful dancing around what he so desperately wished for, but where was the fun in that? Good things came to those who waited. He of all demons would know. Besides, it would bring him great joy to make Solomon suffer. He was nothing but trouble and Barbatos would revel in his absence.

The way Solomon swept you off your feet in a way he just couldn't almost made him drop his facade several times. The moments the two of you had shared in the broom closets now became you and Solomon vanishing when he came searching for you. You were at the House of Lamentation less frequently, and were always out with that human. When you two finally made it official, and began dating, he knew Solomon had tried his best to keep the news from reaching his ears. But nothing escaped Barbatos, not when it was about you. He always thought it was ironic his favorite and least favorite human had found their way together, but it was just a road bump, as he heard Solomon refer to his problems. Barbatos always thought it was annoying.

After lots of meticulous planning, he finally decided he was ready to have you all to himself. He was done sharing what was rightfully his with Solomon. He called you, saying it was urgent and that you needed to come over to the palace right away. After saying something about how it concerned your family and that you were to come alone, he set his D.D.D. down and waited. He knew you would have told Solomon, or whoever you happened to be with, which would give them the excuse he needed to get you away from the others.

When you showed up, he invited you into his room with little words. It was strange of him to be so silent. He also had his usual, sweet smile on his face, but it seemed more intense that usual. You just couldn't understand how he looked so calm when he'd had a sense of urgency in his voice not even ten minutes ago when you'd spoken to him on the phone. After you stepped into his room, he closed the door behind you, and shut the lights off. You'd never been more terrified of the demon you'd come to love.

Before you knew it, you were waking up in a human sized cage in the corner of Barbatos' room you hadn't noticed when you'd entered. Besties being locked inside, there was also an ornate choker around your neck you could only describe as a collar. After sitting up, you began to look around for Barbatos. As you searched, he emerged from dark spot in the room, the same intense grin on his face from earlier.

"Barb? What's the matter?" You placed both hands on the bars and squeezed.

"Nothing, my love." He took a seat on his bed, and just started at you, unblinking.

"Can you please let me out then? Don't we have to go see my family? If they need my help, I want to be there for them." You got to your feet, only to hit your head on the ceiling of the cage.

"You're best kept here, where you're safe and away from Solomon." His eye twitched slightly at the name of your lover.

"Open the door. Barbatos, this isn't funny." You tried to shake the bars, trying to find the Barbatos you'd loved. He just stared. It was beginning to get very creepy. "Please. I don't like this. What have I done?"

"Nothing, and that's precisely it, dear. You're too precious for this world, and I've decided it's best you stay here, with me. Where better for you to be?" He finally blinked, and the gentle smile you knew well returned. For a moment, you thought the joke had finally ended, and he was about to open to cage door to let you know it was all for a surprise. But, he didn't. Instead, he got up and walked towards his door. Before he left, he spun back around to speak to you a final time. "I'll be back later with dinner. Sit tight, and I'll answer more of your questions later." He opened the door just enough to leave, and slipped out.

You were alone. You knew better than anyone else that his room was soundproofed, and that screaming was pointless. You tried to escape for what felt like hours and cried for some portion of that too. Nothing you tried worked, even summoning any of the brothers with your pact. Did he always want to just keep you in the corner of his room, like some trinket, from the very beginning? You had millions of questions.

When he returned with a plate of food, like he'd promised, you didn't know how long it had been. Your back was to the door, tears caked on your face. "My darling, I brought dinner, like I promised." You didn't want or feel like moving to face him.

"Why?" Your voice was raw, and you weren't sure if you were more upset about the seeming betrayal, or the treatment you were receiving, as if nothing was wrong.

'Why? I thought I told you this. You know how much I hate redundance." The loving lilt in his voice dropped.

"You lied to me. To think I ever loved you." You whipped your head around to meet his gaze, letting the emotions seep their way into your words. He looked more dull and empty than you'd ever seen him. He didn't respond. He moved towards the cage, causing you to scoot back, suddenly afraid.

"I know you tried to escape. I don't appreciate that, love. That's what the point of your necklace is. I work quite hard on that." He opened the door and yanked you towards him by your ankles, causing you to fall flat on your face. In his other hand, he held a knife you'd never seen before.

"What the hell are you doing? Put that away." You kicked your legs, but he and his gaze remained unwavering. He rested the knife on your knee joint, and slid his gloved hand up your leg so his thumb rested next to the blade. It was a touch that was all too familiar. He seemed to feed of your fear, and a small smile grew on his face.

"If you apologize right now, I'll have no reason to cut your legs off." You could feel the blood draining from your face. He'd never been violent with you before, but you knew he could if he wanted to. "Well? I haven't got all day."

"I- I'm sorry, Barb. Please put the knife away." You're relieved at how his expression softens and how his hands slide back down to your ankles. However, much to your surprise, he slashes the bottoms of your feet with the knife before letting go of your legs suddenly. Your scream was equally one of pain and shock. Blood began to pour out of the cut. You cradled your legs closer to yourself, now facing him as he turned around to get the first aid kit he happened to have on hand.

"You won't be going anywhere now, will you?" He hummed as he pressed a cloth around your feet to stop the bleeding. You could only stare at him in horror as he tended to the wounds he'd created. "You can sleep with me in my bed tonight. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I can't have you leaving me." He smiled as he would at the Little D's but you would never see it the same again.

As the days went by, you began to wonder just how much of the outside life you were missing. What where they doing in RAD? How long did they expect you to be gone? Did Solomon miss you? Your only company was the soft pulsing of the portals that were somewhere nearby when Barbatos wasn't in the room. The only way to tell what time of day it was, or how much time had passed was the routine meals he brought to you like clockwork. He would consistently mention, especially nightly when he would drag you out of the cage to bed with him, about how this is how things were meant to be, and that how this was your mutual destiny. He'd never mentioned that before, but now it seemed like it was all he wanted to talk about. It was strange, but if he was happy, you could’ve cared less. Most of the time, you just remained silent, unless he directly inquired you. He was his charming self again, with the empty Barbatos returning rarely. He’d broken your trust, but didn’t seem to care. He treated you just like he had before you got with Solomon, like the days where the two of you acted like children with crushes on each other. He wanted to go back to the days of chaste kisses and long nights together, but you couldn’t get past what he’d done. You never tried to refute his claims, but deep down, it disgusted you.

He didn’t hurt you too badly, or too often, but that didn’t take away from the constantly fear. Seemingly, if he felt like it, he’d get the knife back out and threaten you with it in a very violet way, before only minorly hurting you compared to what he’s just threatened to do. Once, he said he was going to stab both of your eyes out if you didn’t stop crying so much, becuase he hated seeing you upset. Instead, after you promised to stop, he danced his blade on your face and left some minor injuries. The entire time, one of his hands was on your chin and he was looking directly into your eyes. At one point, he even threatened to carve his name into your neck so you’d never forget who he thought you belonged to. Sometimes, you thought he enjoyed seeing you suffering more than just physically, because he'd keep your D.D.D. charged and leave it in your sights while he was gone. You could see all the texts and incoming calls, but powerless to respond, just to let them know you were in their backyard. Solomon called the most, but your group chat with the brothers seemed to continue as normal.

After another afternoon of tears while Barbatos was gone, he returned earlier than expected, leaving you no time to clear up your tears. Without any words, he dropped something next to you. Through tears, you tried to make out what he'd dropped. When you looked up, you saw him expectantly smiling down at you. You looked back down to try and figure out what he'd left. You grabbed it through the bars, studying it.

"He's finally out of the way, dear. You don't need him. That wretched sorcerer only caused us problems. You were happy with me, so you can be happy with me again." With horror, you realized you were holding a fragment of Solomon's wand. The very same wand that been the source of many of your problems, but also love, together. You'd polished it many times. The piece you were holding was part of the tip where the cute star rested.

Barbatos knelt down beside you to open the door, but you didn't move. But you had finally had it with him. You almost didn't want to know what he did to your lover and refused to even think about the possibilities. Gripping the wand piece in one hand, you balled up the other and socked Barbatos as hard as you could in the face. You hit the center of his face, and he stumbled back a little. He touched his nose gently with his hand, and both of you saw the blood trickling down onto his white glove. You made eye contact, and you saw the sweet Barbatos leave you along with any ounce of courage you'd mustered up to do that, for Solomon.

Nobody ever did see you, or Solomon again.

i wrote this all in one sitting!! not in love with it since I don't think I'm great at writing action but i really like the beginning!! hope you liked this bc this was so fun to write

[amuseoffyre]

No one is around for me to yell at, so I'm yelling at you (sorry.)

Now that the initial shock of 208 has settled a bit, you know what I'm realising I'm genuinely excited about? That the clean break it represents will give us the opportunity for post-S2 AUs and canon divergences featuring Israel Hands: card carrying Little Shit. :D

Throughout S2, we got to see bits of what he can be like when his processing power isn't 95% tangled up in Issues, and that person was delightful.

I love that the entire premise of this season has been about the capacity for rebirth and change and renewal in whatever form that takes.

Stede 'died' in S1 so he could be reborn in this new life in S2. Ed literally died and rediscovered himself through that journey. Buttons choosing to cut his tethers with his human form to become a true being of the sea and air.

I'm so excited for what this means. Yes, there's a symbolic element in Izzy's death as the end of the old world of piracy he had clung to so desperately, but there's also the promise that "our spirit will outlast your entire fucking empire". He so certain and sure and he knows that now. He knows it's about more than the Blackbeard brand. He knows it's about the people who supported him and aaaaaaa. Him knowing he could save himself if he sided with Ricky but going Nah. Not you. Never you.

And yes on the AUs! :D I cannot deny I have loved Izzy's entire arc and was thoroughly validated in the way I wrote him in so many fics, but especially in Don't Tell Mama. My little bastard rat man was such a gleeful little troll :D

[regenderate-fic]

On Stars and Second Chances

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler Rating: Teen Word Count: 8,311 Other Tags: Fix-It, Journey's End, Reunions, Rose Stays, No Tentoo, Dimension Cannon Audios, Hurt/Comfort, Injury

Read on AO3

It was done. The Earth had been saved, everyone had been returned home, and now the Doctor could finally step away from the console and let his focus go to what had been pulling at it for the last six hours: Rose.

She was back. Not only was she back, but she was here, in his TARDIS, chewing anxiously at her bottom lip, bright eyes flitting from the console to his face and back to the console again. And when she noticed him looking, she looked back, searching him the same way he was searching her. She'd found a new eyeshadow, he noted. And her hair was just a little longer than it had been when he'd seen her last. And—

Did she know how beautiful she was? He'd often wondered. Almost gotten up the courage to ask her, once or twice. 

“Doctor?”

The Doctor blinked. He'd been staring, hadn't he? Probably without blinking—he was always doing things like that. He couldn't help it. He'd thought he was never going to see her again. And he'd so desperately wanted to see her again. 

“Rose,” he whispered. 

There was no telling who moved first. All the Doctor knew was that one second, he was standing there, staring, and the next, Rose was pressed against his chest, squeezing the life out of him, and he was surely doing the same to her. It was just that she felt so real, so warm, and he'd been so cold for so long now. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, and the admission simultaneously was too much and far, far too little. 

“Yeah?” Rose moved back a little, just enough so that she and the Doctor could look at each other. He swallowed, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

The beginnings of a smile appeared at the edges of Rose’s lips. “I missed you too.”

The Doctor felt his own smile growing. He had missed her, more than anything, and what was worse, he'd forgotten all her little expressions, the way she looked when she was confident or nervous or excited or dejected. But having forgotten meant he had so much to rediscover—like the way even the barest beginnings of a smile on her face made him feel warm all over. It was brilliant. He'd never need a puffy coat again, not if Rose was with him. Not when her mere smile would keep him warm. Was that a cheesy thought? Never mind that. He was rambling, even if only in his head, and it was distracting him from the important thing. Which was Rose. Here. With him.

He felt caught in her gaze—he couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop smiling, and none of this was new, not really, but now it was mingled with the relief of seeing her again and the jubilance of universes saved and the pervasive, flat sadness of having dropped off all the people he cared about so they could go about their human lives (and the guilt, on top of that, that he was taking Rose away from her human life, permanently this time, after saying goodbye to her mum on Bad Wolf Bay). He didn’t know how to break away, didn’t know how to move on from this moment—did he even want to move on from this moment? 

“You’re sure you still want to stay with me?” he asked. 

“You’re sure you still—” She faltered. “You’re sure you still want me?”

“Yes,” the Doctor breathed. “Always. Yes, I want you here.” He wasn’t going to think about the human lifespan, wasn’t going to imagine the patterns wrinkles would eventually etch onto Rose’s skin. The universe (universes) had already given him far, far more than he had ever dreamed of. 

“Well, then, you’re not getting rid of me. Not in a million years.” Rose’s smile grew, her tongue poking out from between her teeth. 

Back before he’d lost Rose, the Doctor had frequently found himself holding back. Holding back information, but also holding back affection, holding back touch. And, specifically, he must’ve spent a good eighty-five percent of his energy stopping himself from throwing caution to the wind and just kissing her—especially when he was sure she was doing the exact same thing. He had thought, at the time, that it would keep him from becoming too attached. He had thought, at the time, that it would make it easier if (when) he lost her. 

He had been horribly, woefully wrong. 

And now, as he stood with her once more in his arms (exactly where she belonged), it dawned on him that he’d been given an improbable, impossible second chance, and he would, in fact, be wasting it if he went back to his old ways. Determined, now, not to waste it, he pulled her just a little bit closer, leaned his head forward so their foreheads were pressed together. She gasped, and the Doctor hesitated: there was no point if she wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was. But then her hand made its way up from his hip to the back of his neck, and he felt her breath warm against his mouth, and when their lips finally met, it was impossible to tell which of them had taken that final leap and finally, finally closed the infinitesimal gap between them. 

He wished he’d let this happen years ago. 

It was, in a word, sublime. Rose’s lips were warm and soft, and her hand had inched up into his hair, and his hands were splayed across her back, and even through her jacket he could feel how warm and strong and alive she was. Now that he was kissing her, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to stop kissing her, which was probably bad news for all of time and space, but he was finding it hard to think about all that. Especially when Rose scraped her teeth against his bottom lip and he found himself, on instinct, letting his mouth open. She tasted sweet—how did she manage to taste sweet, after the day they’d had? Was she hiding breath mints or something in that jacket of hers? 

The Doctor would have pursued that train of thought a little further, but then the hand on his waist edged upwards, slipping under his suit jacket, and he had altogether more on his mind. He let his own hands slide down Rose’s back, fingers tangling in her belt loops, pulling her flush against him (as if she hadn’t been close enough already) (but, if you asked him, she hadn’t been). He moved from her hips up to her waist, intent on touching every bit of her while he had the chance, even though he was hoping to have many, many more chances. He let his hands brush along her sides, from her waist to her ribs—

Rose gasped. This was a sharp gasp, coupled with a break in the kiss, and so the Doctor was fairly sure this one was not a good sign. He stilled, and Rose drew away.

“All right?” he asked, trying not to sound too out of breath.

“Yeah.” Rose did sound out of breath. “Yeah, I’m—never better.” She did sound like she meant it, but the Doctor caught another wince as he moved his hands down, away from her ribs to her waist. He frowned. 

“Rose, are you hurt?”

“No, it’s—” Rose shook her head. “I sort of got slammed into a wall last week. Still healing.” 

“Rose, you should’ve said.” 

Rose raised her eyebrows. “What, when we were saving the world, or d’you mean when you were snogging me within an inch of my life?” 

The Doctor floundered. “Maybe… in between?”

“Oh, so when we were saying goodbye to all your friends? Or how about when I was crying on the beach about never seeing my mum again?” Rose shrugged. “Honestly, Doctor, I just didn’t think of it. So much has happened in the last week, I sort of forgot.”

“At least tell me you had someone look at it.”

“Sure, one of the Torchwood doctors.” 

The Doctor scoffed.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Doctor, I’m fine.”

“Can I—” The Doctor gestured at her torso. “Can I take a look at it?”

“What, are you trying to get my shirt off?” She was clearly trying to distract him, and worse, it was working, if only because he continued to be completely mesmerized by her smile.

“No—” And then he thought about it. “Well, technically, yes, but only to see how badly you’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Even if it isn’t!” the Doctor insisted. “Rose, this ship has the best medical technology humanity has to offer. From any time, any place. We’ve got herbs from ancient Rome and radiography from the 45th century. Whatever the Torchwood doctors did, I promise the TARDIS can do better.”

“Oh, all right.” Rose’s hand slipped into the Doctor’s. “Do your worst.”

A few minutes later, Rose was sitting at the edge of the bed in the medical bay. The Doctor gathered a few supplies—painkillers and bandages, mostly—and pulled a stool up next to her. 

“Right,” he said. “May I?” He gestured to Rose’s jacket. She flinched away from him, and he jerked his hands back.

“Sorry,” Rose muttered. “Old habits.” She nodded. “Go ahead.” 

Slowly, carefully, the Doctor moved his hands towards the zipper of Rose’s blue leather jacket. She sat still, stiff, as he unzipped it. 

“This is a nice jacket,” the Doctor noted. The leather was soft, yet sturdy, and of course he was partial to a nice blue.

“Got it before my first jump,” Rose said. “Needed something practical.”

“So you've been wearing it—”

“Two years?” Rose guessed. “Hard to tell. Time isn’t exactly consistent, when you’re jumping between universes.”

The Doctor hummed acknowledgment as he pulled the jacket off Rose’s shoulders and down her arms. Underneath, Rose was wearing a plain pink T-shirt. The Doctor noticed some unfamiliar scarring on her arm, but whatever had caused that had caused it a while ago: the wound had healed into a criss-cross of pale, thin lines.

Rose had caught him looking. “Got scratched up trying to get out of a crashed car. Wasn’t as bad as it looks.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” The Doctor nodded to her torso. “Can I take a look at your ribs?”

“It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a yes.”

“Fine.” Rose tapped at his calf with her foot. “Go ahead.”

“Right.” He touched the hem of her shirt on her left. “Where are you hurt? Here?”

Rose nodded.

The Doctor began to pull up her shirt, doing everything he could to ignore the feeling of his fingers grazing her soft skin. Yes, he’d thought for a long time, years even, how Rose’s skin might feel against the backs of his fingers, but his fantasies had been predicated on entirely different circumstances. Rose deserved better than to think he was getting anything out of this: she was hurt, and she deserved someone who would help her with no strings attached. 

He stopped at the first sign of injury, a bloom of red and blue surrounded by the yellowish tinge of a mostly-healed bruise. It covered her entire side, disappearing beneath the rest of her shirt, and a wave of horror hit the Doctor as he realized how extensive the injury must have been to still look like this a week later. 

He glanced up at Rose. She was watching him with a detached sort of curiosity.

“All right?” he asked. 

She nodded.

He kept going. The bruising deepened as he got further up her side, hitting its darkest red just below the band of her bra. He was sort of surprised she was managing to wear a bra, considering how much pain she was surely in, but then again, what did he know? 

“Rose,” he breathed. “You’ve been going around like this for a week?”

“It’s not that bad,” Rose insisted.

“That might work on your mum,” the Doctor said, “but it’s not going to work on me.”

Rose sighed. “Doesn’t really work on my mum, either.”

“Rose, this is some serious bruising.” His eyes widened in horror. “I hugged you! Rose, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I—” Rose looked away. “I don’t know. Didn’t want to ruin the moment, I suppose.” 

The Doctor scoffed. “Are you telling me excruciating rib pain didn’t ruin the moment?”

“I told you! It’s not that bad!” 

“I told you! I don’t believe you!”

Rose looked back at him, then down at her bruises. “I don’t know. Didn’t seem to matter, just then.” She raised her gaze until her eyes met his. “Was sort of distracted.”

He suppressed his smile. This was serious business, no matter how happy Rose’s voice made him. “Still,” he said. “As your doctor, I’m prescribing rest.” He peered at the bruises. “And maybe an X-ray.” 

“I already had an X-ray,” Rose said. “Nothing’s broken, promise.”

The Doctor sniffed. “I don’t trust those Torchwood doctors.”

“Fine, then. Suppose you’d better do what you like.” Rose raised her eyebrows. “Considering you’re my doctor.”

Heat filled the Doctor’s cheeks at that. He sort of hoped Rose wouldn’t notice, but then again, who was he kidding? Of course she would. Indeed, she already had, if the smirk on her face was anything to go by. Maybe he could cover it up with a babble. 

“X-ray!” he exclaimed, jumping up to pull a machine down from the ceiling. It descended on a hinged metal arm as he spoke. “D’you know, X-rays have been around since the 18th century?” He tilted his head. “Well, longer than that, if you count all the other species who discovered them first. But still.” He tapped the machine. “This is state-of-the-art. Takes a picture in a millisecond, loads of safeguards, gorgeous detail, doesn’t get better than this.” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit geeky?” Rose asked. 

“Nope,” the Doctor said. “You’d be the first.” He positioned the machine over Rose’s ribs. “All right, smile for the camera.”

“How’s that supposed to help?” 

The Doctor shrugged. “Morale boost?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “D’you need me to lie down or anything?”

“Nope, should be good.” The Doctor grinned from behind the machine. “Very advanced technology.” He hit a button, and the picture began to print. “Brilliant.”

“What, you don’t need to leave the room?”

“Nah. Time Lord. Biological superiority.” She scoffed, which he cheerfully ignored as he plucked the picture from the machine and waved it like it was a Polaroid—technically completely unnecessary, considering the image was already crisp and clear, but half the fun was in the showmanship. “All right, let’s take a look.” 

He hopped onto the bed next to Rose, picture in hand. She leaned in to look as he traced the image with his finger. 

“Oh, all right,” he said, with a dramatic sigh for good measure. “Those Torchwood doctors were good for something after all.”

“No breaks?” Rose asked. 

“No breaks. Which means—” the Doctor jumped up— “We’ve just got to get you something to accellerate healing, maybe some painkillers—” he grabbed a couple bottles— “And lots and lots of rest.” He whirled around to face Rose. “Sound good?”

“Yeah, all right.” Rose nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” 

“So now,” the Doctor said, “as your doctor, I have to ask—when’s the last time you slept?”

“Oh, God.” Rose buried her face in her hands. “Don’t even ask.”

“Understood.” The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “How about food? You hungry?”

“Oh, God, starving,” Rose breathed. 

“How about chips?” the Doctor asked. 

A slow smile emerged on Rose’s face. “I could go for chips.”

“Brilliant. Chips it is.” The Doctor held out his hand. Rose took it without a moment’s hesitation, and he pulled her to her feet. Her shoulder bumped against his arm, and something about that small gesture brought him a peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

They stepped out the TARDIS door together a few minutes later, just across the street from the chippy. They'd landed in the middle of London, a few days after everything; a few of the shops were still a bit banged up, but for the most part, people had gone back to business as usual. 

“Impressive resilience, the human race has,” the Doctor noted. 

“Amnesia, more like,” Rose said. She leaned her head against the Doctor’s shoulder. “Nice to see it all still here, though.”

He squeezed her hand. “We did it again.”

“We did, didn't we?” The smile in Rose’s voice was audible. “Sort of can't believe it.”

“Believe it or not, won't make it any less true.” They’d reached the chippy, and the Doctor pulled the door open for Rose. “After you.”

 “Still a gentleman, then,” she teased.

The shop was busy, but not so busy they couldn’t slide into a booth in the back. For half a second, it felt like nothing had changed: here were the Doctor and Rose, sitting across from each other, stealing chips from each other’s baskets just like always. But it was different—the Doctor was different, and Rose was different. She carried herself differently, and not just because of her injury. In fact, it seemed like she was carrying herself differently despite her injury: it was hard to quantify, but there was a new fluidity to her movements, a new confidence in her posture. There was something guarded about her, too, now they were out and about. She’d put the jacket back on and zipped it all the way up, and she looked up every time the door opened, even though it was invariably just another family or couple or group of raucous-but-harmless teenagers. 

The Doctor tapped his foot against her ankle under the table. She startled.

“All right?” he asked.

“Tired, is all.” Rose plucked a chip out of her basket. “And… it’s a bit weird, not having a universe-ending threat to worry about.”

“Lots of those, where you’ve been?”

Rose took a deep breath—although, the Doctor noticed, she stopped just short of filling her ribcage. “It took me two years to find you,” she said. “The dimension cannon, it didn’t exactly come ready-made with coordinates, or anything. At first, I was just jumping into random universes, looking for my—anything familiar—trying to figure out how close they were to yours.” She stared down at the chip in her hands. “The thing the Daleks did—the reality bomb—it was already hitting. Stars going out.” There was a pause. “So, yeah. Lots of universe-ending threats. We were lucky, today.”

The Doctor reached to cover Rose’s free hand with his own. “Rose, I'm so sorry.”

Rose shook her head. “I'm the one who couldn't stay put.”

“Do you think I didn't try?” the Doctor asked. “Rose, I burned up more than just the one sun looking for a gap. If I’d thought there was any chance—” He cut off. “I probably gave up just before it would've started working.”

“Might've taken longer,” Rose said. “From this side.” She shrugged. “My universe, we were just getting the fallout. This one was at the center. The theory at Torchwood was that all the universes I visited were just getting ripples from whatever was going on here.” She smiled. “‘Course, we were only assuming it was here. Would've been really unfortunate if I’d finally found you and the problem was somewhere else.”

“Nah, we would've figured it out.” The Doctor tapped his foot against hers. “Your dimension cannon with my TARDIS? Unstoppable.”

“The cannon’s hardly as good as a TARDIS. Can't even travel in time.” 

“Nah, I’d guess it's loads better for interdimensional travel. TARDIS isn't really made for that.” He winked. “Even if I make it look easy.”

Rose scoffed. “As if you make anything look easy in that contraption of yours.”

“Oi! I said earlier! It's meant to have six pilots!” The Doctor leaned back and crossed his arms. “You'll have to admit, I'm doing pretty well for trying to do a six-person job on my own.”

Rose grinned. “Oh, all right. Maybe you're not such a bad driver.”

“Thank you.” The Doctor plucked a chip from his basket and took an emphatic bite. He swallowed, then added, “I’d like to look at that cannon, by the way. For curiosity’s sake, and all that.”

“The main bit’s still in the other universe,” Rose said. “I just have the travel disc, and it won't do anything now the walls are up again. But you can look at it if you like.” She pulled the little silver-and-yellow button out of her pocket and held it up for a moment. Her eyes stayed on it as she held it out to the Doctor. The Doctor accepted it, his fingers brushing against hers for a second, then another, before he pulled away. 

“It's impressive work,” he said, turning it over in his hands. It was a simple device, a yellow disc set into a silver frame, but of course he knew how much work had to have gone into it. “I imagine Torchwood had the technology?”

Rose nodded. “We adjusted it a little. I mean, at first we were trying to make it work with the universes closed off—but we were also trying to make it punch a smaller hole. Didn't want to cause any problems or anything.” She paused. “The navigation system is all new, too. The original design was sort of hitching a ride from the Cybermen. Only went from that universe to this one. We spent months trying to figure out how to navigate between universes.”

“How'd you manage it?” the Doctor asked. 

“There’s always someone back at Torchwood controlling the thing.” Rose pulled something out of her pocket and dropped it on the table—it was her old phone, the Doctor realized, the one he'd done his “jiggery pokery” on way back when he and Rose had only just met. “Rigged this thing up to work as a communicator. So they can—could—keep in touch with me. The cannon records all the different patterns of whatever universe I’m in—timelines, geography, background radiation—and we compare it to all the other data from all the other universes. And then we can pick which patterns to look for in the next go round.” She tucked the phone back in her pocket. “It all gets pretty boring, after a while.”

The Doctor stared at her. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, just—” He shook his head. “Do you know how completely impossible this is? You not only managed to cross between universes—”

“That bit wasn’t me—”

“—you also figured out how to navigate between them, and how to find this specific universe—”

“Had loads of people working on that—”

“—and then you spent years traveling between universes until you found the one you were looking for.” 

“Had company for that too.”

“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor said, “don't you dare tell me you didn't do anything special. You were absolutely brilliant, and you won't convince me otherwise.”

Rose looked down at the table. A small smile was slowly emerging on her face, despite her teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She looked up through her eyelashes at the Doctor. “All right, then. Call me brilliant, if you like.”

The Doctor held her gaze. “You, Rose Tyler, are brilliant.”

Rose’s smile grew. 

The Doctor scanned the table. He'd only picked at his chips, but Rose had practically inhaled hers—he'd count that a success. 

“What do you say we get out of here?” He tapped Rose’s foot with his own again. “Get some sleep?”

On cue, Rose yawned. “Yeah. Sleep might be nice.”

The Doctor stood. He stacked both their baskets in one hand and held out his other to Rose. Her hand was in his immediately, and he pulled her to her feet. Together, they moved to return the baskets, then stepped back out onto the street. The cool evening air brushed against the Doctor’s face, and he found himself smiling down at Rose, who was, in turn, smiling up at him. He almost got lost in it again, but then he remembered they did, technically, need to get back to the TARDIS, and if they were looking at each other no one was going to be making sure they were going in the right direction and not about to trip on anything. So he forced himself to look away so they could have at least some hope of crossing the street safely. 

Really, though, it was probably the least danger they'd been in all day. 

And thankfully, that held true: in the thirty seconds it took them to cross the street, they weren’t hit by any cars, no wayward bicyclists; not even a stray alien crisis crossed their paths. The Doctor pushed open the TARDIS door and held it there, saying, “After you,” with a dramatic flourish of his free hand. 

Rose rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling, and—at the risk of sounding cheesy—he sort of felt like anything was worth it if he got to see her smile. 

There was something special, about that step across the threshold, from a public street to the privacy of the console room. Everything felt quiet now, maybe even too quiet, despite the thrum of the TARDIS all around them. The Doctor looked at Rose, and Rose looked back, neither one speaking. 

Finally, Rose broke the silence.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice soft. “I—” She broke off. 

The Doctor tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Rose shook her head. “I don't even know. Think I just need a nap.”

“I’d wager you need a lot more than just a nap,” the Doctor said. “I won't hold it against you if the actual event could be better described as a hibernation.”

“Well, that's a relief.” Rose giggled. “Imagine, I come all this way only for you to drop me the first chance you get ‘cause I said I was going for a nap and didn’t get up for hours!”

“Nah,” the Doctor said. “I wouldn't drop you. Might get out the foghorn, mind, but—”

“Don't you dare.” 

“Oh, all right.” The Doctor smiled. “No foghorn.” He hesitated. “Actually, speaking of, your bedroom should still be there. Just how you left it.” 

Rose wrinkled her nose. “I shudder to think.”

“Oh, I mean—” The Doctor looked past her, his eyes focusing on one of the coral pillars holding up the ceiling. “I might've… cleaned up a bit. Just in case. But the room is still there. Still yours.”

“Thanks.” Rose stepped away as if she was going to go, but then she stopped, teetering for a long moment. “I—” She swallowed. “I don't know if I want to be alone.”

The Doctor found himself stammering. Not that he didn't want to help—but he didn't want to overstep, didn't want to overwhelm. “Oh, I mean—I could—you—” He forced himself to stop and take a breath. “I could come with you. If you like.”

“Is that—all right?”

The Doctor almost laughed. “Rose. After everything—I count myself lucky if you don't want to leave my sight.”

“Oh.” She took the step back towards him. Timidly, she held out her hand, and he took it. He expected her to lead him to the corridor, but instead she stood there for another moment, searching his face. He was about to open his mouth to say something—he wasn't sure what—but then she raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his. 

This kiss was different from the one they'd shared earlier: slower, more deliberate. It took the Doctor a moment to process, and by the time he remembered to kiss back, Rose was already pulling away, and he wound up chasing after her for a moment. It was strange, suddenly living in a world where Rose Tyler was not only there with him but also kissing him—but it was the best sort of strange. Like the apple grass on New Earth: a lovely meadow, and then an unexpected apple-flavored snack. 

“Right,” Rose said. She was still holding the Doctor’s hand, and now she swung it, back and forth between them. “Sleep.”

The Doctor gestured with his free hand. “Lead the way.” 

Rose’s room wasn't too deep into the TARDIS—down a corridor and to the right. She’d always liked being right by the kitchen, convenient for a midnight snack or quick breakfast, and she never would've put up with a longer walk to the console room. When she'd been gone, the TARDIS had tucked her room deeper in its recesses, but the Doctor had no doubt it would be back in its place now. 

And he was right: Rose found the room easily. The door slid open for her, and she stepped across the threshold, the Doctor in tow. 

She stopped short just inside. The Doctor watched as she took in the room: it was exactly the same as the one she'd left, with the pink bedspread, vanity covered in makeup, pictures of her mum and her friends and the Doctor plastered everywhere. Something about it was incongruous with Rose now—the Rose who stood next to him was older, a little neater, more guarded.

There were tears running down Rose’s face. Without a second thought, the Doctor tugged at her hand until she collapsed into his arms, her quiet tears escalating into full-blown sobs as he held her. If he hadn't had such a strong time sense, he might've said he didn't know how long he held her, how long she cried, but in actuality he was well aware that it had been six minutes and forty-three seconds when Rose pulled back, tear tracks etched onto her cheeks, and said, “It's only just started to feel real.”

“Which part?” the Doctor asked. 

“I don't know. All of it?” Rose rested her head against his chest. “I wanted to be back here for so long. I think I sort of got so used to looking, I didn't really think I’d ever be able to stop.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But I did it, didn't I? I can stop now.”

“Oh, Rose.” The Doctor traced gentle circles on her back, careful to steer extremely clear of her injured ribs. “You've been so brilliant.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “And it's time you had a rest.”

Rose sighed as she stepped away. “Might go for a shower first. I feel a bit greasy.” 

“Bathroom’s all set,” the Doctor said. 

“You'll still be here when I'm out?” Rose checked. 

“Might go wash up myself, actually,” the Doctor said. “But I'll come right back here after, promise.”

“You'd better.” Rose stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist one more time. When she stepped away again, it was in the direction of her vanity. “The real question is, where did I used to keep my makeup wipes?” 

“Now, that I can’t help you with.”

“They’ll be around here somewhere. Probably long past expired—”

The Doctor shook his head. “Not on the TARDIS. The rooms you’re not using tend to get a bit frozen, timewise.”

Rose smiled. “Never mind, then.” She reached up to take off one earring, then the other, hanging both on her old jewelry holder, the one she’d brought from her flat after losing one too many earrings to the recesses of her makeup drawer. The Doctor had watched her take off her earrings in that same mirror countless times, usually waiting impatiently for her to be done so they could go play a game or watch a show together. She still shook her head in the exact same way to get her hair to settle back over her ears—still pressed her lips together while she searched for something in the drawers—still flashed him a grin as she held up her prize. 

“Found ‘em. See you in a few.” 

The Doctor grinned back. Rose disappeared into the bathroom, and he stepped back out into the corridor. His own room—with the associated washing-up facilities—tended to move around, but he had a hunch he wouldn’t have to look too hard to find it. Indeed, it was only a couple doors past Rose’s. 

He didn’t take long. Just long enough to scrub himself, and a few extra minutes to be sure he’d gotten all the dust out of his hair—fighting Daleks was dirty work, it turned out. He pulled on a random pair of flannel pajama bottoms (which regeneration had bought them? He didn’t remember. They weren’t quite his style) and a navy blue T-shirt and stepped back into the corridor.

Rose’s room was still empty when he returned, although he could hear the shower running through the bathroom door. He sat down on the bed to wait. He had to keep reminding himself that it was really her, that Rose was on the other side of that door. He’d spent more time than he liked to admit in this room on his own, organizing her clothes and her magazines and her souvenirs as if that would do anything to bring her back. But she had come back on her own, a reminder of his complete failure, but also a reminder that she was so incredibly determined, so persistent, so completely herself. She had never needed him; he was just lucky she kept coming back anyway. 

The water turned off, and the Doctor shifted towards the bathroom door. It was a couple more minutes before the door opened and a slightly damp Rose stepped out. Her makeup was gone, and her hair had gone a little wavy from the water. She was wearing a plain white vest top over lavender shorts—her ordinary sleepwear. A shy smile appeared on her face when she saw him. 

“Those are new,” she said, nodding to his trousers. 

He glanced down at his flannel-clad legs. “Old, more like. Don't even remember which regeneration they were for. I'm lucky they fit.”

“So you're telling me those trousers could be hundreds of years old?”

“Suppose they could, yeah.” He tapped the empty space next to him on the bed. “C'mon, sit.”

Rose lowered herself onto the bed next to him. Hastily, he stacked a couple pillows behind her so she could lean back against the headboard without hurting herself—she wavered, looking speculatively at him, until he tugged at her arm in a bid for her to come closer. She moved to sit against the pillows, and when he extended his arm to wrap around her shoulders, she practically fell into his side. Deep in his soul, something small seemed to click into place, something he hadn't even quite realized was out of place. There was just such a comfort in having Rose’s body nestled next to his. Her hair was putting a damp spot in his shirt, and he didn't even mind. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile.

“How’s your side?” he asked.

“Still fine.” Her eye roll was audible, but then, so was her smile. 

“Oi, it's not unreasonable to be worried,” the Doctor said. “A bruised rib can be serious!”

“But mine isn't,” Rose insisted. She looked up at him. “You checked it out, didn't you? And now I'm resting, just like you said.”

“Oh, all right.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “But I think I'm allowed to be worried, considering you seem to have spent the last two years being battered by cars and walls from across the multiverse.”

“Oi, you can talk. Blow up any buildings lately?” 

“Depends. Would you say a Dalek spaceship counts as a building?”

Rose gave him a look. He sighed.

“Fine, point taken.” 

Her responding smile was all but irresistible. And, the Doctor remembered, there was no real reason to resist. He lifted his free hand to trace her cheekbone with his thumb, pushing a bit of hair back and off her face. Her smile softened, and he ducked his head so he could kiss her. She kissed him back, gentler then he'd ever dared hope for. 

When she pulled away, it was with a furrowed brow. “How comes you're doing this now?”

The Doctor matched her frown. “Doing what?” 

“You know.” Rose waved a hand. “The kissing, and all that.”

“Oh.” The Doctor swallowed, mostly in an attempt to buy himself the time to formulate an answer. Finally, he took a stab at honesty, staring out at the pictures on Rose’s wall as he spoke. “I was so scared of losing you, before. I thought it might hurt less, if we were… less involved.” He looked down at Rose. “But when I did lose you, every single day I regretted not making the most of what we had while we had it. It was cowardly, and I'm sorry.”

“So—” Rose pushed herself further upright, angling herself to look him right in the eyes. “You want to be with me?”

“Rose Tyler.” The Doctor’s mouth was dry. Once he said the next bit, he couldn't ever go back. Although—who was he kidding? He'd hit the point of return a long time ago, with Rose. “Of course I want to be with you. I—” His voice broke. 

“What?”

He steeled himself. “I love you.”

Rose held his gaze. “Really?”

The Doctor nodded. “Extremely. Definitively. Very—”

And then she was kissing him. He was startled, at first, by the force of it, by her hand in his hair and her tongue running across his lower lip, but then she'd been waiting years for this, and so had he, and it was long past time they did something about it. It was a bit of an awkward angle—she was still sort of sitting next to him, and he had to twist his torso if he wanted to kiss her properly, and with her injuries she couldn’t quite do the same—but there was nothing that could ruin this moment for him. He kept having to remind himself that it was real, Rose was real, not a hologram this time, she was tangible and here and he could tell because he was kissing her. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Rose pulled away. She was breathing heavily, and fear spiked through the Doctor—had he hurt her?

“All right?” he checked.

“Yeah, fine.” She flushed. “Better than fine. Just processing, is all.” Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth. “Haven't exactly done this in a while.”

“What, dimension travel isn't full of people throwing themselves at you?”

“Not exactly.” Rose grimaced. “And the one time I flirted with somebody, he turned out to be a parallel version of me.”

The Doctor guffawed. “What, really?”

“And he was gay!” She swatted at the still-laughing Doctor. “Oi, it's not funny!”

“You're telling me that, of all the men in all the universes, the one you flirted with was your gay clone?” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “He's not a clone.”

“Fine. Your gay doppelgänger?”

“Well, when you put it that way—”

“See? Funny!”

“You know what? You can have this one.” Rose let her cheek rest on the Doctor’s shoulder. “My point is, I haven’t been doing a lot of kissing, these last few years. Got to readjust.”

“Well, I’m happy to help any way I can.”

Rose swatted at him again. He grinned.

“Say, how many different versions of yourself did you meet, anyway? Lots of Rose Tylers running around out there?”

“Not unless you count the cats and dogs,” Rose said. “Only two humans. Rob and Rosie.” She glanced up at the Doctor. “Rob and me snuck into Downing Street together. Rosie ran a cafe, and my mum walked in and Rosie tried to kick her out. And I wound up babysitting.” 

“What, like, she had a baby?” 

Rose nodded. “And his name was Jimmy. After Jimmy Stone!”

“Jimmy Stone, your ex?” the Doctor asked. Rose had never explained all the details of the whole Jimmy Stone saga to him, but the Doctor got the impression he hadn’t been all that great of a boyfriend.

“That’s the one.” Rose wrinkled her nose. “She seemed all right, though. Was doing well with the cafe. Jimmy, Senior was dead, but she had good friends, nice neighbors. ‘Course, I don’t know how many of them survived.”

“Survived?”

Rose glanced at the Doctor. “Stars going out, remember? In all these universes.” She picked at a loose thread on her shorts. “With Rosie’s, there was this planet, must’ve been flung from a dead solar system, and it was heading right for Earth. Was going to stop it rotating. Barely any warning or anything. And the dimension cannon was malfunctioning, too. I almost didn’t get out in time. And then it didn’t bring me back to Torchwood, it launched me into another universe with a whole other crisis.” She glanced at the Doctor. “Had a parallel half-sibling in that one. Danni. We traveled together for a while.” 

A dim sense of horror had settled over the Doctor. Rose had said the stars were going out, but he hadn’t really thought about it, hadn’t considered the physics of it. Stars—the Earth’s sun was a star, and so were all the other suns, and there were loads of stars that didn’t have planets but still pulled on the stars around it in all sorts of ways… he always said he was from the constellation Kasterborous, a constellation of seventeen suns, but he’d somehow never thought about the impact of even one of those suns disappearing. No star lasted forever, of course. And neither did any planet, nor any other piece of space. He and Rose had watched the sun expand swallow the Earth. But stars going out unexpectedly, all at once—that could be disastrous. Was disastrous, from the sound of it.

And Rose had been there. From universe to universe, she had seen the effects. The Doctor had seen all sorts of things, watched plenty of worlds end, seen entire species wiped out—he’d seen timelines unraveled, people’s births and deaths undone; indeed, he’d been the cause of plenty of it himself. But that had all been within this universe. He’d never seen universe after universe on the brink of collapse, never tried to save the same planet more than once. The stars going out… Rose loved the stars. The Doctor reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers, the same way he had earlier in the Dalek ship, the same way he had back in that shop elevator. Even all the way back in that shop, when Rose had been a stranger, when he’d been cold and angry and hurt, their hands had fit together. 

“Rose,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry.” 

Rose frowned. “What for?”

“You’ve gone through so much,” the Doctor said. “All those universes… all those stars. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“It’s not like I could’ve done anything else.” Rose’s thumb rubbed absently at the back of his hand. “Even if I hadn’t been trying to get back to you. All those lives… someone had to help them. I knew if I could find you, you would.” She paused. “Anyway, it wasn’t all bad. In one of the universes I got to help the people on Earth make contact with an alien species. These aliens were taking all the salt out of the oceans, and no one on Earth could figure out what was going on. But it turned out they were just trying to survive, same as we were.”

The Doctor grinned. He was sure it was an extremely silly grin, but he couldn’t help it. “Have I told you how brilliant you are?”

“Might’ve said something to that effect, yeah.” Rose bumped her shoulder against his. “Anyway, you still haven’t said what you were up to. Made lots of new friends, did you?”

“Not so many,” the Doctor said. “Just the two, really. Martha and Donna. Donna showed up in the console room just after we said goodbye.”

“She—what?”

“She was being dosed with huon particles, turns out,” the Doctor explained. “The TARDIS, it runs on these particles—the details aren’t important. But it’s sort of like a magnet. She had the particles in her, and the TARDIS has the particles, and there she was in the TARDIS.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t exactly good company at the time. Asked if she wanted to come with me, she said no, invited me to dinner, I said yes, I went off and didn’t come back.”

“But you found her again?” 

The Doctor nodded. “Much later. She’d been looking for me. Well, you met her, you know some of the story.”

“Not so much,” Rose said. “She didn’t know most of it, in that other universe.”

“Nice job not telling her your name, by the way,” the Doctor added. “Added loads of suspense to that whole conversation.”

“Well, it’s no fun if the answer comes easy, is it?” Rose smirked. “Anyway, you clearly got there in the end.” She nudged him again. “What about Martha?” 

“Oh, Martha, she’s brilliant too. Met her in hospital, she was a med student, I was investigating—”

“So, what, you checked in as a patient just to see how people would react to your extra heart?”

Now the Doctor was smirking. “We all need a bit of a thrill now and then, don’t we?”

“Oh, shut up.” 

“We had a good few adventures together,” the Doctor said. “She left on her own, in the end. Went through a pretty awful year—and, well.” He wrinkled his nose. “She fancied me.”

Rose laughed. “Oh, and I bet you were awful to her.”

“I wasn’t awful!” 

“If you say so.”

“I wasn’t!” 

Rose shook her head. “I know better than anyone what it’s like when you show up in that box of yours and ask someone on an adventure.”

“It was completely platonic!” the Doctor protested. “She knew that! I told her that!”

“Loads of people say things are platonic when they’re flirting,” Rose pointed out. “I used to say all the time that we weren’t together. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t head over heels.”

“That was because your mum kept thinking I was some sort of predator,” the Doctor reminded her.

“All right, but still.” Rose gave him a look. “How soon was this after you lost me?”

“Not—not too long.”

“Oh, so you were moping the whole time?” 

The Doctor scoffed. “I didn’t mope. I’ve never moped.”

“You do,” Rose said. “Remember when I ate the last one of those little pastries you got from that little bakery in Oktoflan? You moped for a week. Even after we went and got more.”

“They weren’t as good the second time round.”

“You just think that because you’d gotten tired of them.”

“What does any of this have to do with Martha?”

“Oh, come on, Doctor,” Rose said. “You were moping. You met Martha. You asked her to come with you. You give her those sad puppy eyes—I’ve seen ‘em! You show her all of time and space—of course she fancied you! Who wouldn’t?”

The Doctor sputtered. “Donna didn’t!” 

Rose placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “You’re completely oblivious, you are.”

“Oi, I figured out you fancied me, didn’t I?”

“And how long did that take you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the Doctor said. “I was worried it was wishful thinking, at first.” He frowned. “Hang on. How long did you fancy me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rose parroted. “There was something about you grabbing my hand and telling me you could feel the earth turning?”

“What, that long? Never mind, then, I suppose I must be oblivious.”

Rose grinned. “It’s good to be back,” she said. “Been a while since I had anyone to make a mockery of, too. Unless you count Danni, I suppose, but that was different.”

“Suppose that’s all I’m good for, then. A bit of humor at my expense.”

“Yep, that’s it.” But the way Rose was curling into his side said otherwise. “You’re just here to be funny.” 

“You know what? I’ll take it.” The Doctor looked down at her. There was something vulnerable about her, now she was out of her dimension-hopping clothes, now she was no longer trying to project confidence into her every action and word. She was brilliant at it, brilliant at all that talking and running and world-saving, and he loved her all the more for it. But now she’d let her guard down, and there was something gorgeous about it, her tired eyes and soft smile as she peered up at him. Carefully, he kissed her forehead. “Say, weren’t you going to get some sleep now?”

“Oh, who needs sleep?” But even as she said it, Rose yawned massively.

The Doctor laughed. “Come on. .D’you want the light off?”

Rose shook her head. “That’s all right. Not a big fan of darkness, right about now.”

Another mark of her time away, then. “All right, then.” The Doctor lifted the covers over both their legs. He laid on his back, and Rose settled on her good side with her head on his chest, one arm around his waist. 

“You’ll still be here?” she asked. “When I wake up?”

“Only if you are,” the Doctor replied.

“Good enough for me.” Rose shifted to lie more securely in his arms. “Night, Doctor.” 

“Good night, Rose Tyler.” He let his hand run through her hair, drawing slow patterns on her scalp. It wasn’t long before her breaths evened out, and it wasn’t long after that that he, too, drifted off, perfectly content. 

[kiss-my-freckle]

It's 2024 and people still say Damon was mad at Elena in 2x01 and that he snapped Jeremy's neck because Elena wouldn't kiss him. They also say Stefan killed Andie to protect Elena which is full of crap.

Damon's season 5 spiral is written opposite 2x1. In season 5, Elena has that control over Damon. In 2x1, Katherine has that control over Damon. That's why, in 2x1, he's with Katherine first and Elena second. Why, in season 5, he's with Elena first and Katherine second. He was lying when he said he didn't need Katherine to push him over the edge. It's what happens when Damon lies about his humanity.

Elena repeats Katherine's words because she's meant to sell the same concept as season 5. She took over Katherine's body in 2x1. That's why all three characters speak to this fact.

Elena said it

Elena: That's not the problem, Katherine is. She's already messing with both of your heads and Damon is not stable when it comes to her. The last thing we need is to make things worse.

Stefan said it

Stefan: It's Katherine. She got under his skin. She undid everything that was good about him.

Damon said it

Damon: Katherine really pissed me off and I snapped and...

The key part of Elena's statement... "The last thing WE need is to make things WORSE." She's referring to her and Stefan. She made it worse when she repeated Katherine's words. That's why they pulled what they did in 1x13. Elena is able to lie to Damon just as she's able to make him lash out BECAUSE she's Katherine's doppelganger. The same words came from the same mouth and the same voice. They're exact replicas. He might as well have been standing in front of Katherine when he snapped Jeremy's neck.

"Stake HER, rip HER head off, something poetic. We'll see."

Killing Jeremy was something poetic. It's what made Damon want to better himself. It sparks the beginning of his resurrection journey. Consider him in Elena's season 6 shoes, rediscovering himself in Katherine's absence because she's the one who defined him.

Stefan killing Andie had everything to do with the opposite of Stefan's very want. First warning, "What you're supposed to do is let me go." Second warning, "I don't need any saving. I just want you to let me go." Andie's death, "I said let me go!"

What's the opposite of let go, but hold on. Stefan killed Andie, all-knowing that she was Damon's distraction from Elena. In removing that distraction, he believed Damon would hold onto Elena for the sake of letting him go.

First warning, Delena's 3x10 kiss. Second warning, Delena's 3x19 kiss. Elena's death, then to Damon because she was letting Stefan go all along. The very point of their 3x10 soundtrack and why their kiss in Denver mattered.

Any fan that believes otherwise is an idiot.

[locustheologicus]

Franciscan Theology and Spirituality

With the feast of St. Francis approaching I want to explore and share both the core theological premise and spirituality of a Catholic charism that I love. Fr. Casey, OFM, tells about the incarnational worldview that is at the center of Franciscan Theology. The incarnation being the self-revelation of God within the context of creation.

Of course the incarnation extends far beyond just the person of Jesus for Franciscans as we can see all the way back in St. Francis himself an incarnational worldview towards all creation. God's image and creative goodness can be known through all that is made. I can hardly think of a spirituality with a more positive outlook on creation than the Franciscans. More than just nature enthusiast or tree huggers there is acute sense in our theology that the immaterial, eternal God can and has become present in the finite world. The trees and the earth, water and air, every atom and molecule in existence is infused with the goodnes of God's creative power and holds the potential of God's presence.

This is why Franciscans theology tends towards a form of process theology and panentheism. I theological perspective that I agree with. They have no problem in seeing the Divine incarnationally expressed throughout creation. St. Francis' famous Canticle of the Sun testifies to the incarnational worldview. This leads to two other theological principles. It theologically embraces divinzation which Fr. Case names in the video. The idea that God's own goodness and will resides within each of us. Recognizing the divine spark that exist within all creation allows for a theology that also embraces participationist soteriology, where we particpate with the divine for our own salvation and the redemption of the world.

As for the spirituality, we can look to the Franciscan lifestyle of living out their poverty and detachment from material goods as the center of their spiritual charism. Last year, during an important anniversary for the Franciscan family, Pope Francis offered the following exhortation.

And so I say to you: do not hesitate to go out into the world in “fraternity” and in “minority”, sharing the blessedness of poverty, becoming an eloquent evangelical sign and showing our times, sadly marked by wars and conflicts, selfishness of all kinds and logic of exploitation of the environment and the poor, that the Gospel is truly good news for man, so that he may rediscover the best direction for building a new humanity, together with the courage to set out on the journey towards Jesus, who “though he was rich, for our sakes he became poor, so that we might become rich by his poverty” (cf. 2 Cor 8:9).

As we approach the feast day of one of our greatest saints, St. Francis of Assisi, let us reflect on the new humanity that he helped promote by modeling the life of Christ in the time and place that St. Francis lived. His way is the path of a participationist soteriology, where he freely participates with God's grace to transform lives and society by examples of mercy, charity, and justice. Prayer and preaching have their place, but St. Francis and the Franciscans teach us to be models and witnesses of God's grace to others.

As part of my own spiritual devotion I wear the Tao cross necklace with the three knots representing the evangelical counsels. This reminds me to be a lived witness to the Gospel message. It reminds me to strive for:

Poverty - a call to live a simple lifestyle that receives gifts graciously and for the purpose of serving a wider community,

Obedience - reflecting all that i do as serving the greater glory of God (Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam)

Chastity - relational fidelity to those entrusted to me, both in my family and to the wider community that I serve.

[astrailblazing]

Ehren Krantz

BASICS

Name; Ehren Krantz Species; Gamilan Age; 48 Gender; Male, he/him Sexuality; Aromantic demisexual Callsign/Alias; "Stray" Rank; General, formerly Ship; The Yamato

-

APPEARANCE

Physical Basics; Pale blue skin, dark burgundy eyes, very dark brown hair worn in a short undercut and typically neatly combed, though he used to wear it longer. He's tall and lean, which makes him look thinner than he is, just enough to make him seem slightly unnatural. Tattoos/Scars; No tattoos. His only significant scar is from the same incident that cost him his memories, a series of shrapnel scars that go from just above his right eye socket up into his hair. His hair won't grow where the scar is, which is why he wears it short now. Posture; Military-perfect, almost always, though it's based solely on muscle memory. Even when he's somewhat relaxed, he's still rather stiff.

ATTITUDE

Personality; Considering he has amnesia, he's still sort of figuring out who he is. At times, he can be very sharp and ruthless, while at others, he's very gentle and almost sweet. He's trying to decide which of these sides is the 'real' him, even though both are. As he remembers nothing about his past, he also has a not-inconsiderable amount of anxiety over what he might have forgotten. Likes; He likes to watch the stars go by, and he's discovered a sweet tooth since trying Terran food, and that he enjoys strategy games. Other than that, he's still learning. Dislikes; Emotional vulnerability. He's not having a fun time rediscovering himself on Yamato. Strengths; He's discovered he has a good head for strategy, and his aim is impeccable, but he hasn't learned much in-depth yet. Weaknesses; The amnesia, in his opinion. Also, he sometimes spaces out completely, just disconnecting mentally, and there's no pattern or predictability to when it happens. Motivations; He wants to know who he is. Once he's learned that, he wants to know who he was. After that, he intends to find a way to reconcile those two things, and then... well, he'll go from there. For now, he's just tagging along with Yamato because they saved his life, and though he knows they're supposed to be his enemies they don't seem so bad, really.

KIT

Dress; He's not really comfortable wearing a Yamato uniform, but his only uniform was pretty badly damaged, so he doesn't have many other options, as he's equally uncomfortable in casual clothes. He makes do with uniform pants and a long-sleeved undershirt and his old uniform jacket made into a vest. Weapons/Tools; He's not trusted with a gun, which he knows is a smart decision but still is mildly hurt by, but he does carry a stun baton to defend himself with. Skills; Though he's still learning what skills he knows from 'before', he's found that he's very skilled at maintaining weapons and hand-to-hand combat, but he can't cook to save his life. He's good at making do with what he has, and can jury-rig a lot of things when needed.

BACKSTORY

As an amnesiac, he doesn't remember much of his past. What he knows is this; he was a General (from the rank tags on his uniform), he is a Gamilan (from the shade of his skin), and he is currently in enemy territory (though he's less and less sure of that one).

What happened, as far as he can piece together, is that he was on one of the many ships that challenged Yamato on her journey, and was summarily obliterated. Somehow, he'd gotten into an escape pod, and survived the otherwise complete destruction of the ship with only a head wound.

(What actually happened is that he was one half of a set of twins, and his twin knocked him out and shoved him in an escape pod so that at least one of them would survive. The amnesia was not part of the plan.)

Anyway, his escape pod got picked up by Yamato, and since he was injured, they patched him up... and that's when things get complicated. They wouldn't just throw him back out, of course, as humans are frustratingly compassionate, but they couldn't exactly just leave him to his own devices, either. And the amnesia both simplified and complicated things.

Eventually, after some uneasy walking on eggshells, a sort of mutual respect started to form, and gradually he went from an unconventional prisoner to a guest that's under a closer watch than most. Sometimes he consults on strategy- nothing vital, but side projects or hypotheticals.

Who knows what will happen when Yamato reaches Iscandar, though... something will have to give.

IMAGES

Sorry for the shitty photo quality...

[doeroneforall]

 From Challenges to Conquests, Major Vivek Jacob Empowering Disabilities Through Adventure

Unlocking Potential: Major Vivek Jacob's Journey to Empower People with Disabilities Through Adventure Sports 

In the world of adventure sports, where the human spirit is tested against nature's challenges, Major Vivek Jacob is a beacon of inspiration. His extraordinary journey is not just about conquering mountains or navigating treacherous terrain; it's about empowering people with disabilities to discover their inner strength and limitless potential. 

From Soldier to Visionary 

Major Vivek Jacob's story begins with his distinguished service in the armed forces. After years of dedicated military service, he embarked on a new mission—one that would change countless lives. Fueled by a passion for adventure and a deep sense of empathy, he founded an organization dedicated to making adventure sports accessible to people with disabilities. 

Adventure Without Limits 

Major Vivek's organization is breaking barriers and shattering stereotypes. It provides individuals with disabilities the opportunity to experience the thrill of adventure sports like trekking, rock climbing, and river rafting. Through specialized equipment and expert guidance, they defy limitations and embrace the freedom of the outdoors. 

Empowering Lives 

The impact of Major Vivek's work extends far beyond the thrill of adventure. It's about empowerment, confidence, and self-discovery. Participants not only conquer physical challenges but also gain the confidence to overcome obstacles in their daily lives. Major Vivek's programs are transformative, instilling a sense of belief that anything is possible. 

Inclusive Excellence 

Major Vivek is not only a pioneer in adaptive adventure sports but also an advocate for inclusivity. His efforts go beyond organizing adventures; he's on a mission to change societal perceptions about disability. Through workshops, awareness campaigns, and partnerships, he's fostering a more inclusive and compassionate society. 

Triumph Over Adversity 

Major Vivek himself embodies the spirit of triumph over adversity. He has overcome personal challenges, including injuries sustained during his military service, with unwavering determination. His resilience serves as a guiding light for all who participate in his programs. 

Changing Lives, One Adventure at a Time 

Each adventure organized by Major Vivek is a testament to the human spirit's indomitable nature. Whether it's a visually impaired trekker conquering a mountain or a person with limited mobility experiencing the thrill of white-water rafting, every achievement is a victory against preconceived notions. 

A Global Impact 

Major Vivek's work has gained international recognition. His organization has partnered with global entities to expand the reach of adaptive adventure sports. People from diverse backgrounds and abilities are coming together to celebrate the beauty of diversity through shared adventures. 

Join the Journey Major Vivek Jacob's journey is an invitation to rediscover the boundless potential that resides within each of us. It's a reminder that disabilities do not define limits, and adversity is merely a stepping stone to greatness. 

Empowerment Through Adventure 

Through Major Vivek's vision, adventure becomes a tool for empowerment, proving that the human spirit can soar to unimaginable heights. His story is a testament to the transformative power of adventure, unity, and the belief that, with the right support and mindset, every individual can overcome challenges and reach for the stars. 

Embark on the adventure of a lifetime with Major Vivek Jacob and his team. Discover your inner strength and unlock your true potential.

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[annewithankyou]

Triumph Over Self: An Exploration of Freedom and Happiness in 'Into the Wild'

“There were days when despair swept over me, I chose to forgive. Since people lived so dreadfully, vanity is getting illusory, I have nothing to glorify but desperation and forgiveness. It’s better to see the end of the despair to realize how things truly are. It does not mean advocating ascetic life but be conquered and be conquering at the same time.” (Trinh Cong Sơn, 1972)

In 1845, Henry David Thoreau embraced a solitary life in a tiny cabin by a river, chronicling his experience in "Walden." Over a century later, Christopher McCandless followed a similar path, immersing himself in the Alaskan wilderness, as depicted in Jon Krakauer's "Into the Wild." Both men sought to conquer themselves, free from societal norms and material possessions, to find a deeper connection with nature and discover true happiness.

McCandless, driven by a desire to escape the burdens of money and social prejudice, left his past life behind and ventured into the wild. His journey, documented through incomplete diaries, showed no overt emotions but reflected a fierce inner call for self-discovery. Krakauer analyzed McCandless's character to understand his motivations, shedding light on the impact of family traumas on one's later behavior.

The common thread between McCandless and Thoreau was their pursuit of personal triumph and self-realization. They rejected societal norms, valuing individuality and self-awareness. While such a lifestyle requires letting go of burdens, many find it challenging to abandon the familiar and embrace the unknown.

In the eyes of those who encountered McCandless, his happiness was evident in the simple and natural moments. Lovers rediscovered lost warmth, a mother found her son's spirit in the adventurous young man, and others experienced fleeting but intense connections. McCandless, too, found his version of "absolute freedom" without material possessions, contrary to his family's desires.

In the end, the elusive happiness McCandless sought was not found in isolation but in the shared experiences with others. His final diary entry revealed the realization that happiness is best enjoyed when shared. Throughout his journey, he encountered love, companionship, and warmth, finding that true happiness lies not in the wilderness but in the connections we form with others.

The stories of McCandless and Thoreau remind us of the significance of personal triumph over self, embracing self-awareness, and valuing individuality. Their journeys into nature served as a canvas for self-discovery and finding happiness in simplicity. While seeking solace in solitude has its allure, the ultimate happiness, as McCandless discovered, lies in sharing moments with others and forming meaningful connections. Both men's journeys leave a lasting legacy, inspiring us to examine our own lives, conquer our fears, and appreciate the beauty of human connections.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! You guys do amazing work. Thank you so much for your efforts! I've had a lot of fun going through your amnesia and memory loss tags, but I want more! Specifically, can you recommend any stories where Crowley loses his memory and Aziraphale has to put in a bunch of effort to woo him without being able to just say they were together. Maybe a human au?

Hey, thanks! We do have a lot of fics on our #memory loss and #amnesia tags, but as the demand is for more, and it is one of my favourite tropes, here are some where Crowley suffers memory loss and Aziraphale has to help him through it...

Remember This by Mizmak (G)

Crowley loses his memory after bumping his head—and Aziraphale has trouble explaining not just who they are, but what they mean to each other.

Have We Met Before? by mikripetra (T)

“Aziraphale!” grinned the archangel Gabriel, violet eyes glowing with malice and glee. “Well you’re looking…demonic.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. “Rather.”

“Just thought we’d stop by and say hello,” Gabriel said with a grin. “We wanted to greet the only other agent on Earth, even if you are on the other side. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. You were never particularly threatening.”

“Gabriel!” reprimanded a familiar voice, filled with affection.

Crowley’s face appeared in the doorway, long red hair draped across his shoulders, golden eyes and round pupils looking at Aziraphale with nothing more than politeness. “He doesn’t mean that. I’m sure you’re very threatening. Really. I’m shaking in my boots.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Personal Demons by CrossingTheBoard (T)

Crowley has been severely messed with by hell. Aziraphale is trying to help him out even though Crowley has no idea who Aziraphale is, and no idea who or what he himself is.

Lost And Found by GayDemonicDisaster (M)

When Crowley goes missing, his angel goes to pieces. Thus begins a journey of rediscovery. Unable to destroy the demon with holy water, Hell had tried a different tack. They kidnapped Crowley again and stole his memories, then dumped him to fend for himself. Aziraphale attempts to help him rediscover who he is. Prepare for much angst with a happy ending.

hearts and thoughts fade away (I swear I recognize your breath) by Melime (M)

Due to a clerical error, Crowley is cursed by Hell, losing his memories of the past six thousand years. Now, Aziraphale has to regain his trust and find a way to cure him, but the only way to do this is by confronting his own prejudices regarding demons' capacity to love.

A Matter of Life and Death by HolRose (T)

It is the day after the world didn't end and our heroes have failed, yet again, to tell each other how they feel. Before they get a chance to do so, the agents of Heaven and Hell come to take their revenge working on the principle that what they can't kill, they can still punish. Aziraphale finds himself destined to rejoin his Regiment and then finds himself on trial, where he is forced to tell the whole of Heaven how he feels about a certain demon. Meanwhile, Crowley is back on Earth, with no memory of his companion of 6000 years. Will our favourite supernatural duo manage to get back together? With the help of some very determined cherubs, and a fan club cast of thousands, there are beings up there who want to help them try.

- Mod D

[life-rewritten]

NOT ME: DUALITY OF BLACK AND WHITE

Not Me. A show that is all about duality. All about the two sides of life, the two sides of society, the two sides of humanity. Duality, the fight for balance to ensure that things are in order and make sense. The fight for equality. And we see this immediately when we are introduced to our main characters White and Black. Twins with a powerful intense connection, making them feel the same, but twins with a similar love and fierce protectiveness over each other, yet a dual vision like their names on how they do life and survive the world. These twins are split, and the show revolves around  a fight for them to reunite both in a physical sense, in the same external environment, but also with their internal and spiritual environments too. Uniting with one goal to see each other and understand each other. This is why Not Me plays around with the concept of duality.

White after being separated from his brother is taken to the other side of society, he’s raised well, protected, and shielded from the harshness of reality, he’s given wealth, and security in who he is, and he’s given a chance to make something for himself, a chance for power and  authority. And he’s given the freedom to explore and learn (even his course international relations) shows how easy his life is to visit and see the beauties and knowledge of the world, and also make a change from that. But White lacks his own voice, it’s hidden by his father’s prominence, rules and ideals put on him, his future is set and although he’s uncomfortable and questioning towards the hints and clues pointing to the nepotism and corruption that surrounds his environment, he stays quiet because it’s what he knows. It’s also what he’s used to, keeping things down, letting people walk all over him, staying still in the silence whilst his brother protected and fought for him, took the fall for him, the scars for him all the time. That’s White.

And then you have Black. Oh Black. After being separated from his brother he’s shoved into the other side, he’s racked with a hunger for survival, a fierce need for his voice to be heard among all the other screams around him. He’s suffocating, letting  it out only in fights, blood, and screams, fighting and pushing everyone away from him, being hardened and impenetrable to the core. Black learnt how to survive, he wasn’t shielded from reality, he wasn’t given a space to feel free, he wasn’t given security over his head, he had to fight for that. And even in his struggles he fights to protect himself; his goal, his only aim, to protect him and his twin. To not let anyone ever control or walk all over him, to  not let people make him lose his voice. That’s Black. With scars hidden that show up as spikes to anyone who tries to get close, that’s Black but to his gang it’s needed, that leadership, that direction, someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty since they were left in the dirt from the start, someone who has nothing to lose. Except when we see him, he’s broken and shattered and painfully, his fight has been paused. All of his fight now seems for nothing when he’s left alone cold and lifeless in the hospital struggling to breath and be free. But out of the blue brings an opportunity for him to reunite with the person he loves the most, the one precious thing taken away from him amongst others, his companion and only true family, a mirror to himself, his twin.

Not Me introduces the idea of duality to use and make us realise how incredibly dimensional our characters are going to be, this development they are about to have and this journey they’re about to get to rediscover themselves and the secret to attaining freedom of themselves and their hearts in this current world where it seems difficult and impossible to so. They are both flawed as a result of the circumstances that they were given but it’s a flaw that they both can help each other with, with their strengths. Whilst White is naïve and stupid and ignorant about the world, whilst his voice is hidden and is fighting to get out, he sees his brother who will teach him to not hide and cower anymore but to be brave and fight and become strong. To find that part of himself that was always begging to be let out. Whilst Black is hardened, and filled with spikes that hurt anyone who tries to approach him, White shows up to show him and identifies that in the darkness there is love and warmth, there is comfort and safety, from both him and the Gang of friends Black leads. White shows up to heal those scars and make Black’s rough edges smooth, and be refined for better purpose, whilst Black helps White become sharper, fiercer and filled with a fire to make things right. Both Diamonds destined to shine and become something.

The mixture of the study of Law (Black) and International Relations (White), both focusing on society to try and make a change and be better in their own way, to help people, to make a difference. But together they’re the solution, the answer, and the catalyst to start. And that’s what Not Me is about at the end of the day, (though even their love stories play with duality too as they’re given people who make them want to let go and trust and see hope), it’s about the journey of these two reuniting, balancing, and making order again with the life that was taken from them. To help mend the scars, and blisters left by the world on them, but also to fall in love, find family all over again, and also find the best version of themselves, and do what they were meant to do, together.

That’s what Not Me revolves around, that’s why White is dumb and a fish out of water, from his perspective we the audience join the journey to getting to know Black and save him from himself, (his  invulnerability and harshness) but also we join and watch White save himself too and find and uncover the rest of his potential. For both of them to be free. That’s what Not me is about. Duality.

[ships-bynoa]

more thoughts:

i know some find yorick annoying (fair) because he makes stupid choices, but he is so precious to me because he feels real, no? it's the end of the world. he is the only man with a y chrom left alive as far as we know, of course he is going to struggle to adapt. he should. he didn't even get a choice and he's scared he won't be able to live up to what's expected. what i love about him is that he's so vulnerable and open in juxtaposition with his traveling companion, 355. they're going to balance each other out, hit a stride and then they'll find beth or something.

when yorick said, "i got you," to 355 in ep6 as he led her back to bed he really meant it. he thinks they're in this together and that's why he defends her to allison when she suggests leaving her behind. imagine the hurt and disappointment when 355 rejects him being her partner - because that's what he's proposing when he asks for a real job. in the loft he was there to protect her for once and cause he sees a glimpse of vulnerability, a peek into more of her, he reaches for her before she is ready.

he's asking to do more to lessen the burden on her (and he should be doing that anyway), but needs more from her too, an incline they're a team. remember in "Karen and Benji," when he apologizes to 355 and then confesses, all the changes are a lot? it really is a lot, and how else are they supposed to cope with them all without each other, not just physically going on this journey together, but emotionally. i feel like in some ways he's stronger than 355 emotionally. he doesn't hide the fact that he can't cope, and while that may mean he makes dumb choices because he's a desperate human being in desperate times, they're kind of understandable.

when he predictably goes with allison's plan after 355 blows up on him, it's typical yorick, responding emotionally, "fuck her" is personal. it's heavy. he feels rejected. he's tried to help, he wants to be more involved with protecting them and he thinks they're friends. (They are) what isn't typical is 355's emotional response, though it's expected because he hit a nerve.

if he's offering her help then it means she is failing at her job, the one thing she is good at and that defines her. yes, she's putting herself between yorick and danger, but it's more about her than him. she's lost and alone and afraid. she isn't used to navigating relationships that aren't a means to an end. her life before yorick was simple; disciplined, clinical and routine and now she has no one telling her what to do next.

the hundredth thing i love about the dynamic between 355 and yorick is, he has a better sense of who he is than she does, he can't help but be himself. whereas she has to constantly keep who she really is or was, or is rediscovering in check. she doesn't like being vulerable, so for him to confront her about her sleepwalking makes her feel exposed. naked. that's why she attacks him where it hurts - his need for connection and companionship - reminding him she's not his sister or girlfriend is her basically telling him she's off limits. when he asks for a little credit, i don't think it's as much as about what he said to allison earlier in her defense as much as it is about how he's come to actually care about her. he didn't bring up her sleepwalking to expose her but to open the floor to the possibility of sharing the burden of their survival.

with a little time alone 355 realizes shutting yorick out isn't sustainable, especially for the longevity of their trip which requires them to have a functioning relationship. for once and maybe for the first time she owes yorick an apology, and you can even see her practicing what she's going to say (she's so precious) as she comes down the stairs to find an empty basement. that's a blow no matter how she rationalizes it; whether she thinks it's ungrateful, selfish or dangerous which it is, or she feels abandoned and rejected (the way she rejected him earlier) it's a blow. and if it's all of the above, if she feels even a fraction of any of it then he's already in. we can see it when they're in the woods, the devastation on her face when she gives him a real job. (thank god. let him take part in assuring his own safety and yours)

that long look between them, the silence so pregnant even allison gulps, says so much. he's regretful, he acted rash and he hurt her and he can see it, so he tries to make amends but she shuts it down. yet she uses her anger to cover the hurt that is so clear in her voice when she scolds allison.

in truth, yorick did give up too easily, but i don't think, or at least i hope he won't do that again in a hurry.

i don't know if their unspoken burgeoning friendship is back to square one, i hope not. i think it's growing pains of figuring each other out while dealing with an apocalypse and the danger he is in. boundaries, trust and vulnerability is a must and that's what they're navigating. i'd like to think this hurtful moment is the beginning of growth for both of them.

[cryoftheplanet]

The Unifying Theme of FFVII

So I recently got an ask that was very interesting and which I think I did a piss poor job answering. Republished here:

what is the biggest theme of FF7 that ties every character together to you? life? pro environmentalism? identity? connections?

My answer was, in a nutshell, "existentialism." It's broadly true, and was certainly an influence on the game (see: Martin Heidegger, Existentialist philosopher and known bastard) but it's a reductive and Western take overall.

So, here's the long version, and a disclaimer up-front that I'm a simple Western weeb doing internet research to the best of my ability; apologies to those who know more than me.

Square has always stated that the theme of the game is "life". This is wholly accurate, but comes off as a little twee to a Western ear. This is because "life" is a translation of the Japanese word "inochi" (命). It is a broader, more holistic concept than the English "life," with different nuances and connotations.

For a longer and much more informed read on inochi specifically, see The Concept of Life in Contemporary Japan by Masahiro Morioka. Otherwise, keep reading after the cut!

In addition to meaning life or lifespan, "inochi" also encompasses the idea of a "spirit" or vital force. It extends beyond referring to life in the general sense. Much like any one person's mind, spirit, and lived existence isn't interchangeable with anyone else's, one's "inochi" is unique and individualistic.

This concept extends beyond just human life. Animals, mountains, rivers, and trees all have "inochi" too. An illuminating quote From Aspects of Shinto in Japanese Communication by Kazuya Hara (and his primary source):

From the viewpoint of Shinto, nature itself is seen to have a spirit and life. For example, Japanese people have looked upon even a tree, a rock, or a river in nature as a figure of life. Kamata (2000) argues that the Japanese word inochi connotes the dynamic motion, flow, and circulation of all the universe.

That circulation also includes the idea that "inochi" does not refer to only a single individual life, but a chain of all the lives that have gone before. It encompasses the fleeting and finite life of the individual as well as the ecosystem in which they lived, and the influence and impact which will survive them and create the next link in the chain.

You'll recognize many of these concepts as being expressed through the Lifestream, and extant in the environmentalist elements of the game. Navigating the apparent paradox of a finite and infinite "inochi" also pulls our cast in, all of whom are characters struggling with their individual existence in the context of a greater, deeply interconnected crisis.

"Inochi" is also connected to FFVII's strong themes of navigating identity and uncovering the fundamental self. The word can also be used to refer to the core or fundamental part of something, its "most essential quality." This echoes Cloud's journey to rediscover himself, and it's noteworthy that he find again within the Lifestream, the manifestation of "inochi" itself.

"Inochi" is definitely a very accurate unifying theme. We've touched on how that connects to Shinto themes, but Buddhist philosophies of life and existence are just as culturally prevalent in Japan and influential on the themes of VII in turn. So, let's talk about Buddhism, with another disclaimer that I'm not expert by any means whatsoever.

A foundational concept in Buddhism is the Three Marks of Existence: Impermanence, the non-self, and suffering. We'll mainly focus on the first two.

The first, impermanence, is as it says on the tin. According to Buddhist thought, impermanence is inherent to the natural world, and failing to recognize this will bring suffering. The bad passes along with the good, the big as well as the small. The strain of Buddhist thought through the game is part of why FFVII's original ending is so appropriate, and Aeris' death so integral to the rest of its themes.

The second is the non-self. Related to the concept of impermanence, the idea here is that there is no permanent incarnation of the self, and there is no way to separate the self as an individual from its myriad pieces and its context. From What Are The Three Marks of Existence by Dana Nourie:

When you start to see how you aren’t a solid, unchanging self, but a impermanent, dynamic person, you also loosen your clinging to thoughts, ideas, emotions, and the idea of a “real you”.

The connection to Cloud's personal journey throughout the game is obvious - an abundance of attachment to an artificial self causes him to suffer until he is able to reconcile it and let it go. Sephiroth, meanwhile, faces a similar challenge to his own identity and slips sideways into Nihilism, unable to overcome (or even admit) his own suffering.

There's a connection between Buddhist and Existentialist/Existential Nihilist thought. While Buddhism incorporates the concept of suffering as an inherent and endless facet of life until nirvana can be reached, Existentialists struggle with a post-modern feeling of dread or anxiety fundamental to living in a meaningless and chaotic world. There's also been plenty of cultural exchange between eastern and western concepts here - Heidegger is one notable participant.

Another is Keiji Nishitani from the influential Kyoto University of Philosophy. Engaging with western Existentialist thinkers, he wrote Religion and Nothingness on the connection between the concept of the non-self and the western philosophy of Nihilism. He compared the similarities between the two, while ultimately refuting Nietzche's perspective. This quote (helpfully, from his Wikipedia page) seems particularly instructive, especially in returning back to some of the initial concepts expressed by "inochi":

"All things that are in the world are linked together, one way or the other. Not a single thing comes into being without some relationship to every other thing."

My original answer to this question was Existentialism because there simply isn't a word or a tidy concept in my vocabulary that can convey all of this disparate information. Existentialism seemed to me like the most familiar and broad concept to encompass these themes, always in the form of questions: How do we live? How do we separate subjectivity from objective truth? How do we preserve the sense that our lives are meaningful?

You must decide for yourself; you must remember your connections to other lives; you must let go.

[love-sapphirerose]

Inuyasha and Kikyo Is the Feudal Romance We Deserved

Inuyasha and Kikyo are well known for their doomed romance in Rumiko Takahashi's iconic Inuyasha series. But what if Kikyo had lived instead?

BY DIANE DARCY

PUBLISHED MAY 16, 2021 With the 2020 debut of Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon, fans of the original Inuyasha series got an opportunity to revisit familiar faces as well as meet the children of their favorite pairings who front the new series. But what if one of these pairings had turned out differently? What if, instead of dying and reincarnating as Kagome Higurashi, Kikyo had actually lived to spend the rest of her life with Inuyasha?

While Kikyo living would’ve resulted in a very different story from the one Inuyasha creator Rumiko Takahashi developed, it also could’ve resulted in a more epic romance story. What is it about Inuyasha and Kikyo as a couple from 50 years ago that makes them so compelling? The characters could have developed very differently, with some fascinating aspects of Japanese history enriching their story even further.

In both the manga and anime, one of the unifying themes of Inuyasha and Kikyo's relationship is the two characters feeling out of touch with their humanity. In Inuyasha's case, he is a hanyou (a being who is half human and half youkai) born to a human mother and a great dog youkai, both of whom had high status in their respective communities. Despite this, however, Inuyasha was rejected by both humans and youkai alike for not being of pure blood. As such, he was forced to fend for himself at a very young age, resulting in feelings of self-loathing and a profound distrust in others.

Kikyo was born into a human village that she later protected as a miko (shrine maiden) after reaching adolescence. Little is known about her childhood apart from the fact she was born with strong spiritual potential (as narrated by her younger sister Kaede), though much of it can also be pieced together based on the history of miko in Japan. As stated by Tsubaki -- a rival of Kikyo -- in Episode 147 of the Inuyasha anime, a miko's spiritual power thrives when she abandons all human feelings. She also warns that as a woman, Kikyo could naturally fall in love, which would cause her powers to weaken.

Though Tsubaki's explanation of a miko's spiritual power is treated as a curse by Kikyo in the anime, it is actually consistent with how young girls trained to become miko in Japan's earlier history, most notably during the Sengoku period (when Inuyasha takes place) and especially in centuries prior. As practitioners of Shinto, young girls who trained to become miko underwent various purification rituals as a way of strengthening their spiritual power. Since purity is central to the Shinto belief system, miko were not permitted to marry as it was believed that compromising their sexual purity would also compromise the strength of their spiritual power. This last part is relevant to Kikyo's storyline.

Inuyasha and Kikyo's storylines converged when the latter was given custody of the Shikon no Tama, a powerful jewel with a reputation to grant any wish to its possessor. Inuyasha desired the jewel as a means of erasing his humanity in exchange for becoming a full youkai, though he had to get through Kikyo to get it. While Kikyo had the skills and power to keep the jewel safe, she also found her new occupation even more isolating than being a miko alone. After meeting Inuyasha, Kikyo became aware of her human desires and emotions, which factored into her decision to rid herself of the jewel and pursue life as an ordinary woman.

The premise of Inuyasha desiring to erase his humanity with Kikyo desiring to reclaim her humanity created strong story potential that deserved further fleshing out. This was done to an extent in the anime story The Tragic Love Song of Destiny (Episodes 147-148) that depicts the budding romance between Inuyasha and Kikyo, leading up to the moment where she proposed Inuyasha use the Shikon no Tama to become human. At the time, Kikyo theorized that if the jewel was used to make Inuyasha fully human, it would be purified and would cease to exist. The original Inuyasha manga and subsequent anime adaptation, of course, established towards the finale that this would not have been the right wish. But realizing this could've been an important part of Kikyo's journey.

Another major development that could've still happened in a universe where Kikyo lived is the shattering of the Shikon no Tama -- this time by a weakened Kikyo, which would've been a huge wakeup call for her. Recalling what Tsubaki said earlier about how falling in love would cause her powers to weaken, being responsible for shattering the very jewel she was entrusted to purify would've shaken Kikyo to the point of rethinking her priorities. This would've placed Kikyo in a position of needing to learn new skills to supplement her miko training, which in turn could've created opportunities for character growth.

A meaningful change that could've come out of this journey was Kikyo realizing that the key to strengthening her spiritual power was embracing all aspects of her identity. Maybe she needed to realize that rejecting any part of herself -- whether it be her human self or miko self -- was why she wasn't being an effective guardian of the jewel. Allowing herself to experience human emotion may have allowed her to channel her powers in a smarter, more effective way.

Related to the plot of shattering the Shikon no Tama, the wounded thief Onigumo (whom Kikyo was nursing in a cave) could've still become the evil hanyou Naraku with the same motivation as before: wanting Kikyo for himself and desiring the Shikon no Tama as a means of getting her love. He still could've sent various youkai after Kikyo to exhaust her as he did in Tragic Love Song, only things didn't go his way. Instead of mortally wounding Kikyo, one of these attempts to exhaust her could've resulted in the aforementioned jewel's shattering, allowing the story to play out as it did originally -- but with some key differences.

Keeping Naraku as a villain would've still been important for Inuyasha's character development as he embodied a much darker version of Inuyasha's own goals. This could've forced Inuyasha to reconsider his own motivations for becoming a full youkai and whether or not he should take up Kikyo's offer to become fully human. Naraku's obsession with Kikyo could've similarly made Inuyasha re-evaluate his own feelings for Kikyo, whether he's similar to Naraku in lusting for her or if he actually loves her as a person. There's also the factor of Kikyo being exposed to Inuyasha's human side during moonless nights and the vulnerabilities that come with such moments. This too could've forced her to re-evaluate her own motivations for wanting Inuyasha to erase half of what he is as a means of purifying the jewel.

By getting to know Inuyasha in both of his forms, Kikyo could've ultimately decided against erasing what makes him unique, effectively changing her plans for purifying the jewel. Her thoughts on this could've been further solidified after experiencing what Naraku was capable of with only shards of the jewel as opposed to the complete jewel. Naraku's dark motivations could've similarly provided Inuyasha and Kikyo with the perspective to realize none of their problems would be resolved by casting a selfish wish on the jewel, regardless of their intent. Instead, they both could've reached the same conclusion that the only way to relieve themselves of the jewel and its destructive power was by wishing it out of existence, effectively allowing the jewel to destroy itself just like it originally did.

While keeping Kikyo alive would've changed significant aspects of the Inuyasha story, it also could've resulted in a more focused romance with more profound character development. Since both Inuyasha and Kikyo have a unifying theme of not feeling in touch with their humanity at the start of their respective narratives, their journey could've focused on them rediscovering their humanity together while not rejecting what makes them unique. By reconciling all aspects of themselves into more mature identities, their relationship would've been stronger for it.

[nhkamira]

MY SPRING 2021 ANIME WATCHLIST🌼🌈✨

Spring is officially starting and what a marvelous season we have ahead. Full of great anime continuations and some news that I’m really looking forward to. Since I post practically every review (only Horimiya left) here I present you my Spring 2021 watchlist:

1. Boku no Hero Academia 5th Season (27/03). Can y’all hear me screaming?😭 Finally, our heroes are back and I couldn’t be more excited. Many friends told me this season would be really amazing and I can’t wait! Bones studio is still in charge of the series so we will continue having a great animation. Genres: Action, Comedy, Super Power, School, Shounen.

2. Koi to Yobu ni wa Kimochi Warui (29/03). A strange encounter spurs the meeting of Amakusa Ryou, a high spec businessman, and his high school sister's best friend, Arima Ichika. From there, he falls madly in love and tries to approach her, while she responds simply disgusted, insulting him without hesitation. Can this be a nice shoujo anime? We’ll see. Studio Nomad is doing the work, I haven’t seen their previous work but the trailer animation looks nice. Genres: Comedy, Romance.

3. Jouran: The Princess of Snow and Blood (31/03). An original and first series by Bakken Records. Set in alternate history Japan in 1931 the anime will follow the activities of "Nue," an organization of shogunate executioners who enforce the government. The dissident organization Kuchinawa strives to overthrow the administration, while the Nue of the Tokugawa regime, which was entrusted with its extermination, is in conflict. Sawa Yukimura, whose family was killed when she was young, continues to search for Janome, the executioner of the Nue. I don’t usually enjoy historical anime but hopefully, this would be good. Genres: Action, Historical, Supernatural.

4. Shaman King - 2021 (1/04). Can believe this actually got a remake, which I’m really really excited for. In a brief, Shamans are extraordinary individuals with the ability to communicate with ghosts, spirits, and gods. To life circumstances You befriends Manta due to his ability to see spirits, they set out to accomplish You's goal of becoming the next Shaman King. Studio Bridge is in charge, the ones behind my all-time favorite “Fairy Tail” ^^. Genres: Action, Adventure, Supernatural, Comedy, Shounen.

5. Mashiro no Oto (3/04). Lowkey I’m expecting this to be as good as “Kono Oto Tomare. Shin-Ei Animation is the studio behind this and they’ve worked in the Doraemon and Shin-chan movies. The story follows Sawamura Setsu, since their grandfather's death, he dropped out of high school, moved to Tokyo, and has been drifting, not knowing what to do besides playing his Shamisen. That's when his successful and rich mother, Umeko, storms into his life and tries to shape Setsu up. She enrolls him back into high school, but little does Setsu know that he is about to rediscover his passion for Shamisen. Genres: Music, Drama, School.

6. Hige wo Soru. Soshite Joshikousei wo Hirou (5/04). Project no.9 the studio of Jaku-chara is bringing a more dramatic story this season. Office worker Yoshida has been crushing on his coworker, Airi Gotou, for five years. Despite finally scoring a date with her, his confession is promptly rejected. Drunk and disappointed, he stumbles home, only to find a high school girl sitting on the side of the road. The girl, needing a place to stay the night, attempts to seduce Yoshida. Despite rejecting her advances, he nevertheless invites her into his apartment. Genres: Drama, Romance

7. Fruits Basket: The Final (6/04). If I started talking about this anime and how excited I am I will never stop talking. I’m ready to cry, get flustered, angry, and be happy. I’m sad but at the same time happy that the story is ending I’m dying to see the zodiac members at least feeling peaceful. Genres: Slice of Life, Drama, Romance, Shoujo, Comedy, Supernatural.

8. Shadows House (11/04). CloverWorks is doing this one and it would probably be beautifully animated. The story is about faceless shadow nobles living in a vast mansion, attended by living dolls who spend much of their time cleaning up the soot endlessly emitted by their mysterious masters. It's not horror but I like the creepy vibe. Hope is good. Genres: Slice of Life, Supernatural, Seinen.

9. Edens Zero (11/04). My Fairy Tail heart is singing of joy. J.C.Staff is animating the series so we know it would be good. Ever since the manga came out I started immediately. It’s really good so I hope people enjoy it without being too critical about the resembles of Fairy Tail. Here is a brief: At Granbell Kingdom, an abandoned amusement park, Shiki has lived his entire life among machines. But one day, Rebecca and her cat companion Happy appear at the park's front gates. Little do these newcomers know that this is the first human contact Granbell has had in a hundred years! As Shiki stumbles his way into making new friends, his former neighbors stir at an opportunity for a robo-rebellion… And when his old homeland becomes too dangerous, Shiki must join Rebecca and Happy on their spaceship and escape into the boundless cosmos. Genres: Action, Sci-Fi, Adventure, Shounen

10. Tokyo Revengers (11/04). I really don’t know what to expect from this since LIDENFILMS has done some pretty awful or uninteresting works, but the trailer looked very cool. Our mc is Takemichi Hanagaki, his life is at an all-time low. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he finds out that Hinata Tachibana, his ex-girlfriend, was murdered by the Tokyo Manji Gang: a group of vicious criminals that has been disturbing society's peace for quite some time. Wondering where it all went wrong, Takemichi suddenly finds himself traveling through time, ending up 12 years in the past—when he was still in a relationship with Hinata. Realizing he has a chance to save her, Takemichi resolves to infiltrate the Tokyo Manji Gang and climb the ranks in order to rewrite the future and save Hinata from her tragic fate. Genres: Action, Drama, School, Shounen.

11. Fumetsu no Anata e (12/04). I think this is the most expected new anime for this season, and one of the most visually beautiful this season. Follows the story of It, a mysterious immortal being, is sent to the Earth with no emotions nor identity. However, It is able to take the shape of those around that have a strong impetus. Acquiring the form of a boy, It sets off on a never-ending journey, in search of new experiences, places, and people. Genres: Adventure, Supernatural, Drama, Shounen.

12. Marimashita! Iruka-kun 2nd Season (17/04). Yes yes yess. So we finally are going to find out what happened to Iruma-chi at the end of the first season. I’m really excited to see everyone again ^^ if you haven’t seen season 1 I invite you to do it and you can also read my review under this anime hashtag ^^ Genres: Comedy, Demons, Supernatural, School, Fantasy.

This season looks very promising!

[literary-spirit]

Bonnie Bennett believed she'd finally discovered her good enough ending. Yet, like most things in her life good enough goes left and leaves her with another ending. Or, perhaps a fire beginning...Journey with everyone's favorite Bennett Witch to the Viking Era for much needed lessons in devotion, courtesy the Lothbrok brothers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

AN: Alright Bennett Fandom this one here is a bit different from what you're used to. Okay this one here is a bit different than I'm used to. Francesca has recently rediscovered Vikings and with it the sons of Ragnar. And don't you know she wouldn't rest until she brought our favorite Bennett Witch into their mess! As if our girl didn't already have her own problems. SMFH! So thanks to my lovely muse, here we are with a whole lot of trifling savagery that I'm just not so sure about. But as always I'll let you be the judge if this WIP lives to see another update. Flame it or acclaim it in comments.

“You know as much as I’ve savored the joy of tormenting you over the years-,” Klaus began.

“No,” Bonnie shook her head. She’d tried to go along with his final request. Really she did, but how could she? When in the end all he’d be was gone. “I’m sorry, bae. We’re not doing this.”

Rebekah’s eyes rolled. She released a drawn out exhale that hadn’t been necessary for her since wood ash and pointed stick tattoos were a thing. “Bonnie, don’t ruin this for him! Permit him whatever comfort he demands. He shoulders a burden you’d never be able to fathom. Can you not allow him to experience but one moment of grace? A moment Hope will undoubtedly cling to after he’s gone.”

“No, Rebekah! I’m not about to listen as the man I love gives us all a corny goodbye and pretend to be okay with it. And why the hell should Hope have a moment to cling to when she could have her father?” She gave her head another firm shake. “No, this is not okay with me,” her voice rose as she drilled visual holes through each of them. Klaus tried to shut her down with an arm around the shoulders but she curved him with a shrug, all while committing ocular homicide on him in the process. “So why the hell is it okay with you, Hybrid?” Her scorn riddled gaze darted from him back to his so called family. “Or any of you?”

“You must’ve been down on Bourbon sipping on that Absinthe again if you believe any of this shit is okay with us,” Marcel waved her off barely sparing her a glance. “We all just know Klaus is gonna do whatever Klaus wants no matter how any of us feels about it. The most dangerous place you can be when his mind’s made up is in his way. So I suggest you step out of it.”

Her neck snapped back as if she’d taken a two piece to the chin. “You think I’m afraid of the big bad wolf? I wasn’t at seventeen and if I thought for a second it would save him, I’d put his ass back in the dirt again. I take care of my own, Marcel. No matter the dangers or consequences,” she jabbed a thumb at her hybrid, “And make no mistake, that Original pain in the ass over there is mine.”

“Cute.” Marcel laughed as he rubbed at the corners of his mouth. “Bonnie, we’re his family. Each of us have known, feared, hated, respected, and loved him long before even your parents’ parents became an idea. Hell, even after everything he’s dragged me through, there’s not a drop of blood I wouldn’t bleed for him.”

“Then stand behind those words and do something, Marcel,” she pleaded, because at this point she wasn’t above begging for the only bright spot remaining in the dim bleakness that had become her life seven years before.

“What would you have us do, Bonnie?” Elijah questioned in a barely engaged tone.

Bonnie turned to consider him. A perpetual moroseness now cloaked the one she’d once believed to be noble. His arrogance hadn’t been quite the same since the restoration of his memories. More and more he’d begun to remind her of Finn. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Since discovering what Klaus planned to do, she’d toyed with an idea she’d vowed never to indulge. Yet, under the weight of impossible desperation such vows could not stand.

“The eternal witch spell should be evoked,” she said.

“By whom?” Kol questioned. His chocolate browns moved from Freya to Hope. When both appeared to know less than him his disbelieving gawk returned to her. “You?!” Laughter burst from his mouth. “Oh Darling, I’ve witnessed that spell make a supernatural mess of the most talented witches to ever recite a chant. There’s only one destined to master the eternal witch incantation and her sorcery is said to be unmatched.” His knowing gaze drifted to Hope, and then back to her. “There’s no way you’re powerful enough to undertake the task. You’re not even the strongest witch on this block.”

Bonnie flinched. Damn it, if Kol hadn’t DOA’ed her pride. When the hell did he jump on the Bennett hate train? To hear how far his opinion of her plummeted sort of burned.

She nodded. “Okay, if not me why not Davina. You tend to enjoy blowing her horn. If she’s all you claim her to be, get her here. I’ll happily bow down if her being greater than me will save him.” She jerked her head in Klaus’ direction.

“No!” Marcel barked.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Kol zipped across the distance separating them to tower over her. His original face no longer concealed by his human deception.

Klaus rocketed forward to place himself between she and Kol. “Step away from my fiancé, baby brother. For if you harm her then you’ll be joining me in the afterlife. To hell with your bloody dagger and box.”

Ignoring Kol’s and Klaus’ dagger and the box bit, her distressed stare collided with Freya’s. “What about you? Will you help me save your brother?”

“Bonnie, that spell is much too dangerous. Even for me.” The blondes eyes offered her a thousand apologies but not one solution. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it…not now.”

Her desperation bottomed out to despair as her gaze took a hail Mary launch to the supposedly most powerful witch in the room. “Hope?”

The room erupted. You’d think she’d offered the girl a crack pipe. When she was Hope’s age she was taking down well…her dad.

“Bonnie!” Elijah yelled.

“This is madness,” Rebekah growled, taking a step in their direction. “Nik tell her!”

“We’ve already talked about this, Bekah.” Marcel shook his head and tugged Rebekah back to his side. “That doesn’t concern us.” Bonnie heard Marcel mutter.

Klaus spun away from Kol to regard her. He grabbed her face and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Everything’s going to be alright, Love.” He whispered, before brushing his lips against hers. Liquid pain disturbed the stillness of his crystal blue stare and contradicted the hell out of his reassurance.

“How?” She tugged herself free of his grasp. “How’s everything going to be alright? You’ll be dead and then what? Life goes on? Fuck that! I’m not about to stand here and mourn a defeat I haven’t loss yet!” She whirled away and marched from the gathering. Her decision made.

Once out of sight, she hurried towards their bedroom. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. The barrier wouldn’t hold her hybrid, but the fraction of time it would provide may be all she needed to complete the spell. She fell to her knees next to the mattress. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from underneath the bed. The already prepared altar and ingredients slid out. She stared down at the athamae and exhaled. Second thoughts plagued her mental, but she shook them away. She’d come this far already. The time to bitch up and forget about it had come and gone. Now was the time to do and die, literally.

She picked up the dagger and called forth every ounce of mystical energy which bled through her veins. A swell of Bennett sorcery overwhelmed the room. Pictures rattled on the walls. The balcony doors blew open and the glass shattered. Furniture not nailed down whipped about the room like she’d caught a ride in a tornado. Steeling her nerves, she continued. She called forth her psychic energy, her huntress energy. Any and everything supernatural about her she offered to the Goddess of all in exchange for an eternity of knowledge and the fated eternal mate destined to help her defeat the Hollow.

After relinquishing her all to the Creator she sliced open her palm. Blood gushed from the wound and saturated the ingredients. A searing light illuminated the room. The bargain was struck and accepted. Now the sacrifice. She swallowed and raised the blade. Aiming it at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, no!” Klaus’ voice penetrated the white noise blaring throughout the room. “Love, don’t do this. You won’t survive.”

She opened her eyes. He stood just beyond the enchantment circle, attempting to force his way into the barrier. “Neither will you if I don’t. Besides, if it doesn’t work I’d rather be in the ground anyway than breathe without you, Klaus.”

“Bonnie, please,” he pled as he dropped to his knees. He slammed his fist against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. You have my word, Love!”

A sad smile flirted with her lips. “You’re lying, Klaus. If there was another way then it would already be the plan.” She plunged the blade into the cradle of her breasts. A piercing burn penetrated her chest.

“No!” Klaus’ bellow seared layers from her punctured heart. The storm of mystical energy whipping about ceased.

Her knees buckled. Klaus caught her before the ground could and cuddled her close. She attempted to talk, but a wheeze whistled pass her lips instead.

“No, Love, don’t speak.” He bit into his wrist and placed the bleeding extremity to her mouth. His blood might as well had been battery acid because she’d bet dollars to air it burned the same. Hacking coughs damn near shook her frame apart by the joints. “Why the sodding hell isn’t this working?”

“I-It’s the s-spell,” she managed to utter. “M-my death is the p-price of a-admission.”

Tears trickled from his eyes onto her face. “Why did I have to go and love you, Little Witch?” He demanded, looking beyond confused.

“B-Because its what we b-both needed at the time and no m-matter how this turns out I’ll always be indebted to you for giving me a reason. L-Love you, Hybrid…always and f-forever.” His face faded until nothing but darkness surrounded her.

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

The abyss gave way to blinding lights. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. A cacophony of sounds battered her auditory senses. The eardrum rupturing racket nearly distracted her from the violent rocking motion. A violent rocking motion which would no doubt wrought absolute fuckery on her cyclic vomiting syndrome. Right along with the tang of salt-water, unwashed bodies, and rotten fish. The potpourri of funk came close to singeing the lining of her nostrils.

A familiar acrid burn tickled the back of her throat. On cue her belly spun a series of gold medal winning somersaults. Oh this was going to happen. Her lack of sight heightened her senses and made her that much more sensitive to all the upchuck factors swirling about her. Unable to continue to live in the darkest part of her denial and remain vomit free, she opened her eyes. The brightest day she'd ever had to tolerate greeted her light discriminating gaze. She closed her eyes once more. What in the extreme fuck? Was this some kind of hell dimension? Is that why she was only a five minute drive away from the damn sun? Oh Goddess no!

"Cade?!" She growled.

The acrid burn that flirted with the back of her throat developed a sour chunky consistency. Once again she forced her eyes open...and blinked. She was on a vessel that appeared to have hailed straight out of Vikings. Damning the unnecessary brightness and her afterlife in general, she turned and tossed up the entire contents of her stomach over the boats edge. The seafood gumbo from Rousseau's she loved nearly as much as Klaus shot from her mouth and floated one way while the wind and Hades' cruiser sailed her in another.

As gravity took her down exhaustion fucked her over. She rested her cheek on the boat's wooden ledge. Drops of putrid salt water splashed her face. Yet, her fucks to give was at a negative zero low. Not only was she dead, but more than likely so was Klaus. She'd failed him...she'd failed them. Not even eternity would be long enough to make that shit okay.

Bonnie's vision blurred. Her chest throbbed. She clawed at the pounding ache between her breasts. Goddess, it's a wonder her chest didn't have a gaping hole in it after everything her heart had lost. Shaking her latest failure from her thoughts, she turned to slouch back to the boat's floor. She then lifted her gaze to assess her surroundings. Various shades of irises gawked back at her. She froze. Oh damn! Just her luck the water was sacred. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but snapped it closed. Wait...why the hell did everyone look like extras from the Last Kingdom?

Slowly, her gaze dropped from the filthy hairy men towering over her to what she wore. The burlap sack dress she donned stopped her ever ticking clock. And based on the breeze cooling her cakes, her La Perla's had opted to skip the journey to the other side. Her back teeth clenched. In what kind of after life had she been dropped? Was this some kind of Viking hell? Had she somehow been granted eternity with Klaus in his hereafter?

The shifting of bodies snaked her attention from Kanye's spring wear to the now parting beefy men. A sight which had her questioning her sanity emerged. Bjorn Lothbrok or at any rate the actor who portrayed him in Vikings. Was he dead and stuck on the Otherside also? Wait, was Alexander Ludwig even supernatural?

"You're not one of the slaves who was captured during the raid. One of your hue, I would've remembered." The head Viking in charge edge that resonated in Bjorn's or Alexander's voice snatched her from her contemplations. "How've you come to be upon this ship?" When she opened her mouth to speak the cold sharpened point of a sword pierced the hollow of her throat. "Speak to me of canards or sagas and I shall open your gullet."

She hesitated for a moment. What could she say? The truth would definitely get her neck split wide. "I-I'm not sure. Before...when I closed my eyes, I was somewhere else and now that I've opened them, I'm..." she glanced from the horror frozen faces of the crewmen to the beyond frightened slaves. The poor shackled souls huddled away from her in the ship crevices and corners on either side of her. She swallowed and allowed her gaze to return to Bjorn. "I'm here."

"Oh my god," she heard one of the slaves mutter in a tone that, to her surprise, sounded annoyed?

His scoff sliced the disbelief inspired silence in half. He withdrew the biting tip of his sword from her throat and sheathed it in the scabbard at his side. "Bind her hands to her feet and toss her over."

The ship erupted in a flurry of movement. Two overfed red-haired and even redder faced Viking men moved to grab her. She nearly projectile vomited her heart from her mouth.

"I know what I'm saying sounds apeshit, but I swear on everything I love, Alexander," she said slowly uttering the name and searching his face for a flare of recognition. When nothing sparked in his expression she stammered on, "I-I'm telling the truth. Please, you have to believe me, Bjorn!" A flicker of curiosity narrowed his glare. Bingo! "You can't let them kill me! Please, I don't wanna die again!"

"Halt!" He bellowed, raising a hand to stop the men from advancing, "How've you come to know of my name?"

Shit! She pressed her lips together as her mind flipped through a too short list of plausible explanations that wouldn't get her burned at a stake for witchcraft. "I-I've dreamt of you a-and of this moment." There, that didn't sound too bad. One thing she'd learned from Klaus, watching Vikings, and Google, is ancient Northman actually revered oracles and seers.

"You've dreamt of me?" He knelt before her, arresting her stare with a penetratingly incandescent blue gaze. At a deliberate methodical pace, his eyes crept over her face. Her lungs threatened to collapse under the thorough scrutiny. "Of this moment?" Unable to look anywhere other than in the irises that burned brighter than the now blazing sun, her head bobbed. A smile enticed the corners of his mouth. "Then why fear what you know will follow? Have you not prepared well to meet your fate?"

"Not if my fate resides at the bottom of the ocean," she said with a firm shake of the head, "That's an introduction I'd like to cur—avoid indefinitely."

His head tilted just so as he continued to regard her. "Name yourself."

"Bonnie Bennett," she answered.

A golden brow lifted. "Bonnie Bennett of where?"

"New-M-Mystic Falls...Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

"I have never heard of a land with such a name," he huddled a bit closer to her, "in which direction does your homeland lie?"

Before she could answer, thick gun metal gray clouds rolled across the azure sky and swallowed the glaring sun. A sonic boom exploded somewhere in the distance, while blue streaks of lightening zigzagged its way through the stodgy swirls of gloom. And if the situation wasn't already atom splitting serious, fat drops of rain and hail the size of golf balls began to pelt them.

"This storm is unnatural!" A seaman yelled.

"What in the name of Odin will become of us? None of us shall discover the gates of Valhalla at the bottom of the sea!" A ruddy face old man with a scraggly beard roared at anyone who appeared to be listening.

Another much younger seaman, maybe a little older than herself, turned an anxious stare on Bjorn. "Do you believe the All Father has forsaken us, Ironside?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a blonde slave girl who pointed a finger in her direction, "It's her! Her very presence displeases the gods. You should heave her over and pray the sacrifice appeases them."

"You sound dumb as hell! It's no wonder you're in chains," Bonnie snapped, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Stupidity had nothing to do with forced captivity. Yet, that bitch had some damn nerve.

"No one will be heaving anyone over," Bjorn said, while standing from his crouch, "Raise the sails and provide the slaves with pails so they may began dumping water from the ship's floor."

A surge of magic thickened the air. The foreign sorcery incited something within her. Something unfamiliar. A bucket was pushed in her face. She took the wooden pail without looking away from the sea. The very stench of alien witchery agitated her own strange mystical energy. The fiery heat of her somehow altered super charged power practically scorched the inner lining of her veins as it raced through her vessels. Who would dare interrupt the supernatural and natural balance on this scale without justification? It was like using a heat seeking missile to take out a mosquito. Un-fucking-called for!

Instead of allowing the now aggressive powers within her the retribution it sought, she settled just to keep the occupants on the ship safe. So, while she dumped water from the boat's floor, she chanted under her breath. Soon, a protective shield formed around them in an elusive form of the previous sunny day. The Vikings and slaves alike erupted in praises to Odin.

"Yep," Bonnie forced a smile. "Praise Odin!"

"Come, Mystical One," Bjorn stood over her, his shadow casting her much needed shade.

Distrust and her impromptu guest starring role on a show which highlighted the fact that Vikings had no problems raping captives, raised her guards. Though realms out of her element, she was far from ignorant.

Her gaze moved over him in an attempt to size him up. "Where?"

"To the prow," He gestured towards the front of the ship before snatching the pail from her hands, and then tossing it aside. "I wish to learn more about you and this numinous land named Mystic Falls." When she took too long to follow he locked his hands behind his back and considered her. "If I wanted to lie with you then all I need do is have you. Do you believe anyone here would be minded to protect you?"

She lifted her chin as she glanced about the ship to see not one person watching them for concern purposes. Every eye she caught on them looked to be pre-historic Shade Room and TMZ reporters. If they had tea kettles back then they'd no doubt be ready to spill the damn things. No, Bjorn spoke the truth. No one on that confoundingly long boat would lift a calloused palm to help her.

"Alright." Exhaling, she stood and leveled him with a glare even a PMS'ing demon would be incapable of exacting. "But fair warning, no one on this ship can protect me better than me. And make no mistake, I'm not above defending my own honor."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "That is a certainty about you of which I'll never be mistaken, Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."