#hes why rose became a companion so hes the most important man in the universe

[felicitywilds]

the enigma of pete tyler... not a character that haunts the narrative, but a character haunted by the narrative. its rose's (ie. the bad wolf's, ie. the narrative's) attachment to him and who he could've been but never got to be that makes him so important, but only barely. hes not part of the story-- he dies before she grows up, or he doesnt have kids in this world-- but hes rose's dad so hes dragged into it every time. he seems to know it every time too, because he always opens up to rose and doesnt know why, like he knows hes becoming part of a story he isnt supposed to be in yet. hes so normal and so essential and so tangential-- theres so much thats different about the alternate universe, but they call it petes world because he's whats the most important about it. to her.

#doctor who #dw #nuwho #pete tyler #rose tyler #fathers day #rise of the cybermen #other episode im referencing for sure but u haven't gotten there yet #doomsday #probably #by me #im. hes so NORMAL #hes a DAD #but hes HER dad #hes why rose became a companion so hes the most important man in the universe #dont skip nine

[coreastories]

The Conversation

Companion to CoreaNews: The Protocol of Touch 

Follows the story thread of CoreaNews: Meet the Lady Seo-gyeong

Precedes The Request (coming soon)  

A conversation between a queen and a prime minister-- the glimmer of the start of a beautiful friendship, after they address something important.  

Note: I wanted a convo that would pass the Bechdel test. So no discussing a man. Haha. And I wanted PM Koo fleshed out rather than being this creepy pushy woman she was shown to be when she wasn't killing it as PM 😁

Follows the CoreaNews/CoreaFiction world where Lee Lim was defeated and the result is PM Koo's bossbitch tendencies are still there, following canon (i.e., what happened still happened) but isn’t corrupted by Lee Lim’s evil. She’s still PM, not all orange is the new black. 

Koo Seo-ryeong grew up in the shadow of men. Well no, that was wrong. She grew up outwitting and outplaying people with power. Most of them happened to be men. 

Her father was a wealthy idiot barely considered an adult when he impregnated her mother. The family wanted Seo-ryeong raised among them, but Seo-ryeong’s father barely looked at her, let alone acknowledged her existence. Seo-ryeong’s mother displayed backbone in the most important time of her life and kept Seo-ryeong in her own house, never mind that it was above a fish shop. 

When Seo-ryeong turned sixteen, she wrote to her father, and asked for support for university.  

She got no response. 

Next, she demanded her school expenses for Seoul National University with a veiled threat, and got what she wanted. 

She learned a lesson on how to sway people in power that day.  

When she was twenty, her uncle didn’t want his brother’s bastard daughter anywhere near him, but Seo-ryeong needed the powerful bullet in her CV, so she turned herself into a drudge in that law firm until she knew all the clients' putrid secrets and the firm couldn’t function without her, and then she left for the prestigious fellowship in Cambridge and never looked back.  

When she came back home, she used her father, uncle and all the connections she could squeeze from the firm’s clients to get a position in her MP’s constituency office. “Fish shop girl” was bandied around but soon stopped. 

She ruled that office-- and the weakling, incompetent MP. She ruled them all the same way she’d maneuvered her father and uncle like puppets. 

She soon replaced that MP. His constituency office became hers. And every row she went past to get closer and closer to the dais in the Royal Audience Hall meant she crushed men left and right, crushed them, because these men belittled her for being a woman, for being a fish shop owner’s daughter, for being a bastard. The name Koo might hold position but still held no clout. 

Until the king made one comment. A single, off-handed comment. “The MP Koo might turn out better than the rest of you.” 

She was. She knew she was. She’d been demonstrating she was. But no one saw it until the king said it, in that non-partisan, impassive way, as if he hadn’t seen it either.   

She seethed but she grabbed her chance to get into the fray of the petty wars of the parliamentary parties. 

She got the backing of the Jinsun Party and they were too happy to use her to spite their opposition in the Gom Party. Jinsun was a bunch of old elitists and royalists who despised her fish shop background but one comment from the king was enough. 

She won the election. They hadn't expected that. Hadn’t expected her to squirm from their grasp using the power they think they bestowed on her. 

She stood face to face with the king and drew measure of this man, the first she might not be able to crush. Nor have any need to. She quite despised herself for forcing a flirtatious laugh in his presence, and then simultaneously respected and hated him for not responding. 

Thus was the pattern of their acquaintance: she did all she could to push past his walls, but those walls remained unassailable while she became more and more… pathetically desperate. 

In her third year as Prime Minister, she married a man not unlike her father, her uncle, that first MP, and the members of the Jinsun Party. She would need his money for re-election after all. He was just another rung in the ladder she climbed. 

She continued to meet the king every week and he continued to be impassive, never letting down his guard around her, bantering, but never flirting. And always standing so tall, never sinking to the level of the power players around. 

Sometimes she wondered if she tested him because she wanted him to so she could lump him with the men she knew. 

She divorced her husband within the year. She revealed his corruption and sent him to jail to spite his family and his cronies in the party. 

She had nothing but contempt for the man. 

She was now in a position of power. So she was surrounded by other people in power, ones who either feared or despised her. She even began to look forward to her clashes with Lady Noh--which were real clashes rather than ego baiting. 

She was beginning to tire of it. Ten years of her life fighting these men, crushing them. Repeat. 

She wanted to keep doing what she was doing. She liked being able to steer the country in the direction she wanted. To do that, she needed power. The kind of power that didn’t come with this constant battle with dunces, and instead came with prestige and permanence. 

Only an idiot wouldn’t try to pursue the king. She was in position. She knew her assets. She knew men.  

Or so she thought. In her blind and frantic thirst for power, she forgot the kind of men she knew. Which was far from the kind of man the king was. 

So she lost him. And here was the woman who now held the power she wanted. A woman with barely styled hair and a face barely touched with makeup. 

Seo-ryeong didn’t know what to make of that face. She knew that face. Grew up with that face since she was sixteen. Learned to tolerate and then love that face since she was eighteen, when “Luna” legally became Koo Seo-gyeong, became her sister, the bright little urchin who only laughed when Seo-ryeong bullied her, not backing down and not retaliating. 

Seo-gyeong was what Seo-ryeong wanted to be, but by the time Seo-gyeong pushed her way into her heart, Seo-ryeong’s heart had already been too occupied, too closed, too obsessed with her goal to spite her father, her uncle, all the men who never saw her as anything but a drudge. 

And now Seo-gyeong’s face was the face of the queen. 

Seo-ryeong had taken that in stride, didn’t show the least bit of shock when she first saw the queen at the wedding. This wasn’t her sister. This was a different person altogether. 

And strangers were always interesting. 

They both ignored the lowered buzz of hubbub around them. This was the NanoStem Institute, and you’d think they’d invite only people with brains, but even the best people lost their wit when confronted with royalty. Witness her own pathetic actions with the king. She wished she could forget it. When would she forget it? 

Seo-ryeong rose from her chair when it was clear the queen was approaching her. What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to be at that table. 

“Hello, Prime Minister.” 

“Your Majesty.” She put on her practiced smile. “How are you, ma’am?”

“I’m good. May I join you?”

“Of course.” 

They both pretended to care about their other companions for a few minutes. Seo-ryeong watched her. The queen had this annoying habit of tucking her chin in a small bow as if everyone at the table were her betters instead of the opposite. 

It irritated her. It brought her back to her own days when everyone around her were her betters. 

Watching as she did, she soon sensed the queen’s impatience and discomfort with people fawning over her. The signals were tiny, but Seo-ryeong recognized them. 

Save her, unnie. You know you want to. 

Cursing Seo-gyeong in her head, Seo-ryeong cleared her throat loudly. As the most senior person at the table, next only to the queen, the idiots quieted at her subtle stare and busied themselves with something else. 

“Thank you,” the queen said softly. “That was becoming brutal. And this table is full of the worst.” 

Seo-ryeong had a mad desire to laugh. The queen was right. 

“Except you, of course.” 

That addition made Seo-ryeong snort delicately behind her serviette. 

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for awhile now,” the queen continued. “I never got the chance.”

“I’m always at your service, Your Majesty. I’m only a phone call away.” It was true. If the palace called, she’d come running. Well, flying. That was why she wanted to be in the palace herself. Her days of being summoned and being the gopher person were over and she was in the position to summon, too. If only no one else could summon her. 

“Oh no, I can’t do that. You’re the Prime Minister. I really am a fan.”

“I’m honored to have such a young and beautiful fan.” 

The queen had just spooned a bit of yakgwa into her mouth, and she paused for two seconds with the spoon still in her mouth. Then she turned to Seo-ryeong and smiled. 

“Has it been better since you’re no longer with your party?” She lowered her voice further. “The king told me your party was the worst, too."

“Well, parliamentary parties are unavoidable. But yes, it’s been better.” 

The queen seemed to be genuinely happy about that. “Tell me about yourself, please. Have you always wanted to be Prime Minister?”

No, I wanted to be queen and you know that. “Why do you ask, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a cop. So I became one.” 

A cop. Who was she? Why was she a cop like Seo-gyeong, and yet had no records like Seo-gyeong? And she was no longer a cop. She was a queen, for heaven’s sake. 

Seo-ryeong found herself saying, “At first, I wanted to leave the country and serve in the International Criminal Court, but then I realized I might as well be Prime Minister here first and be someone by the time I joined the ICC. I didn’t want to be invisible again.” 

The queen was nodding, her lips forming a silent ahh. 

 “Did you like being a cop? Were you treated well?” It was something she would have asked Seo-gyeong. 

“Yes, yes. I suppose I was lucky. I even had a newbie to boss around before I left.” 

There was something in her tone that prompted Seo-ryeong to ask, “Are you happy you left?” 

“In some ways, yes. In all the ways that count.” 

The serene confidence in that answer stunned Seo-ryeong. She had never felt that same serene confidence before. 

“But you must know how it is.” “I do?” 

“Yes. Running for re-election takes guts and sacrifice-- you could have gone to the ICC-- I’m sure they would have been happy to have you-- but you went after re-election instead because it matters for you in all the ways that count.” 

Seo-ryeong sat there and felt like the queen had slapped her. 

In all honesty she ran for re-election just to prove she could, and to prove she could win. 

When would she stop needing to prove things? 

Why was this woman, an eerie copy of her sister, assuming benevolence from her? 

Her position required everything but benevolence. Her position required the grit and ruthlessness that would work to the country’s advantage but also ensure she remained in power. 

And in one of those flashes of wisdom, Seo-ryeong realized it was the one thing she lacked. The one thing Seo-gyeong had and which she’d crushed in herself through the years of outplaying and outsmarting and crushing men. She’d had no benevolence left. Even her most altruistic campaigns and projects were rooted in currying the favor of the people of Corea. 

The king had said something about benevolence to her, something about needing more than benevolence to make history, something about being the country's history. 

Like she wasn’t? Her term would end but wasn’t she also contributing to the country’s history? 

She remembered that night too well, too darkly, because she had seethed at his rejection, at his cavalier disregard of her, and it had only fanned the flames of her desire to crush him next. 

Now he was out of reach, and her fury for him had turned to almost-dead embers. Now here was his queen so casually laying Koo Seo-ryeong bare. It hadn’t even been half an hour since she’d sat down.  

It had taken one comment from the king to start her rise to power. 

It had taken one comment from the queen now to shake her footing on that power. 

“Do you like Lady Noh?” 

Seo-Ryeong blinked, took a drink of water, and pretended as if she hadn’t just had the scare of her life. It was terrifying, wasn't it, to suddenly realize your motivations had been anything but, only a mad desire for...for spite and… 

Calm down, unnie.  

She composed herself. Perhaps Seo-gyeong and all her doubles--however many there turned out to be--were always meant to rub Seo-ryeong raw like this. And this time she couldn’t just get away like she'd left Seo-gyeong at home to stay at the university. 

“I don’t know her well enough to like her, Your Majesty. She did school me when I first came to the palace.” 

“Oh she did that to me, too. She’s always hiding talismans in my clothes.” The queen brought one out and showed it to her just at the edge of the table, out of sight of the others. “She says they’re talismans for success. I don’t need it that much, do I, not for the Institute’s opening?”

No, you don’t, do you? And if those were talismans for success, then I’m Princess Diana. 

“Do you want it? You might need it more than I do.” 

Seo-ryeong laughed outright. “No, ma’am. I don’t need that talisman.”

“Right. I suppose you don’t. You’re already successful.”

“That talisman is for the conception of children.” 

The queen didn’t seem too surprised with that and only made an expressionless face. An expression Seo-ryeong knew only too well. 

She’d always seen it in the king’s face. 

“I suppose I could have endured worse than this.” The queen put the talisman back in her jacket pocket. Then she looked at the Prime Minister with a hard glint in her eye. “I saw you push her.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“In the security footage. Around October. You wanted to get to the king’s study and Lady Noh blocked your way and you pushed her.”

Seo-ryeong could only blink at her. Why was the queen looking at security footage from months ago? Did she have nothing to do in the palace? 

Then she almost clapped a hand to her mouth because she had said that aloud. 

She clenched her hand on her skirt. If this woman wasn’t the queen, Seo-ryeong would have said worse. 

The queen was amused. She knew it was a breach of protocol, and she knew Seo-ryeong was embarrassed about it. “I don’t know. I was just curious about those dates. Don’t do it again.” 

Seo-ryeong blinked at her some more. 

“I want to stay here. I want to work here. There are things you and I can do. I think you’ll do it so well and you can teach me so much. So I might need to invite you to the palace. And you can certainly invite yourself over. But don’t ever push Lady Noh again. If she says the king or I or both of us aren’t home, believe her.”

Seo-ryeong was stunned. If she were queen, she’d guard the palace against all women. She grasped at something she could parry. “Why wouldn’t you stay here? Where else would you go?”

The queen just smiled at her, a smile that reached those eyes, making them shine. People had said the queen had speaking eyes. Seo-ryeong had scoffed. But she was seeing those eyes now. “Exactly. Where else should I be?” 

The emotion and conviction in that answer reached Seo-ryeong in some deep part of her heart that also twinged when she spent too much time with Seo-gyeong. 

She should call Seo-gyeong. 

The program started and she and the queen paid attention. There were speeches both dull and interesting, a slideshow presentation that was more like a well-cut film, and then the ribbon cutting. And then it was done and the pathetic members of the media stood milling around the dais pretending they weren’t waiting for the queen to stand and give them photos. 

The queen turned to her. “Shall we?” 

At this point, Seo-ryeong was curious enough to take on whatever this strange person threw in her court. She knew the inner workings of the palace enough to know she wouldn’t be curious for long. They’d tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know. 

She stood with the queen and walked to the dais, letting the queen walk two steps ahead. She’d avoided appearances with the queen for this reason. But to her surprise, following precedence for this strange woman didn’t grate on her as she’d thought it would.  

As they stood there and the woman did that annoying chin tuck again, she said, “Thank you for the compliment of the invitation to the palace, Your Majesty.” 

They smiled at the cameras. Flash exploded in multiple bursts and she soon couldn’t see much. 

But she felt small hands come around her. 

“I think you’d do perfectly at the ICC. But don’t leave just yet. You’re awesome and you’re needed here.” 

Seo-ryeong found her arm going around the smaller woman’s shoulders--protocol be damned-- and she smiled. Really smiled. 

__________________________________________

A/N: You know I’ve always loved that Tae-eul saw Seo-ryeong for her awesomeness. I really loved that. 

No melodrama jealousy, only that fun-cute jealousy for Gon’s phantom dates at that riverside picnic spot. Lol. But for a real flesh-and-bone woman Corea actually shipped with Gon, Tae-eul only saw her achievements. 

And as for Koo Seo-ryeong, there’s something really sad about her being pretty high up in the land but still needing, wanting to be queen. I always saw it as more than greed. She saw it as the pinnacle of accomplishment, since no one seems to see what she already accomplished. 

She had fans, sure. I think Corea also loved her enough to elect her. But to her peers, she was actually being called out that her party had placed her in power in a meeting that was about the country, not the party. FFS. 

It’s like they don’t see her. Years and years of that probably made inroads into her pride and self-esteem. 

And during that meeting after the neck kiss, I really hated how misogynistic the lot of them were. There was not a single rational person in that party-- this is after they’ve seen PM Koo during the Japan skirmish, too. 

No acknowledgment. To them, the PM just became this one-dimensional social climber/fish shop daughter who wanted to be queen and was currently sulking because someone else was going to be queen. KES just used the whole lot of them to try to underline that we should hate PM Koo, too. Badly done. 

Anyway, Lee Lim being out of the picture means PM Koo doesn’t get corrupted by Lee Lim. So I don’t see why she became a corrupt assemblywoman, and that was also with a sweet adopted sister like Seo-gyeong to keep her grounded too! It didn’t make sense. I thought having a sister meant PM Koo wouldn’t be so full of herself lol, since her mother wouldn’t be spoiling her? But then next we saw her she was in prison! Wat asdjhfalkdjfhlajh

So in my head, PM Koo stays in Corea, still being a bossbitch PM and chewing incompetent asses, and then she meets this new queen who has the face of her sister. 

And this queen saw her push an old lady-- which is admittedly evil-- but ALSO saw her for what she was-- someone awesome, someone who could teach the queen, someone they needed. 

She was. 

#CoreaFiction #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #jeong tae eul #koo seo ryeong #lee gon #TKEM #TKEM fan fic

[littlemisssquiggles]

Ruby could get kidnapped in V8 but with everything going on V9 will need to be something less stressful. Still I would be down for Oscar and Ruby reuniting and THEN talking about the trauma together. V8 though I do want self-reflection since Oscar is basically back in V4 status(all alone with Ozpin). Along with Ruby wondering what more she has to sacrifice whether it be Oscar or her life like her mom.

On the contrary Ghost; with the way things are going now with the events of the Atlas Trilogy, I feel like the showrunners are just going to keep upping the stakes. So perhaps Ruby being kidnapped for the next volume wouldn't be too bad of an occurrence.

I mean I've been an advocate for Ruby becoming a prisoner of Salem along with Oscar since V5. Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby since V4 and it wouldn't surprise me if she'll have her eyes set on capturing Oscar too; especially since she knows that Oz has been reincarnated.

As I was telling @crystalandbrass, what if…in V8, as a reverse parallel to V4, Tyrian Callows is once again sent to retrieve Ruby. In my interpretation of this hunch, I imagined Tyrian leading his own faction of Winged Beringels to ambush and overpower an unsuspecting Ruby who just happened to be out alone in Mantle with only Qrow as her company.

In the Wizard of Oz story, it was said that the Scarecrow was almost destroyed by the flying monkeys when they came to capture Dorothy Gale. So what if…we got a RWBY equivalent to that moment in which Qrow is overpowered by Winged Beringels and forced to look on helplessly as Tyrian relinquishes an unconscious Ruby Rose over to a Winged Beringel which takes her away to Salem.

Meanwhile, Tyrian stays behind to finish off Qrow only for the Branwen man to be saved in the nick of time by Jaune, Nora and Ren arriving to aid him; much like how he had come to their aid back in Anima in V4.

I quite like the concept of Ruby becoming Salem’s prisoner by the conclusion of V8. Perhaps this could lead into what some of Rosegardening Pineheads and Rosegardeners have been itching to see---a scene in which Oscar comes to Ruby’s rescue to parallel all the times she has protected and looked out for him over the past few seasons. I think it could be a neat moment for Oscar if he ended up challenging Salem to save Ruby.

Perhaps…we could even see my ole Oscar the Golden Cap Pinehead headcanon coming to fruition too with Oscar becoming so great and powerful in his magical abilities that he’s able to use his power to take control of Salem’s Winged Beringels (see my Oscar’s Luxx Pinehead headcanon right here)

In the Wizard of Oz story, the Wicked Witch was only able to control the flying monkeys through the power of the Golden Cap---a cursed magical artifact that allowed its wielder to control the flying monkeys at least three times.

Although Salem is the creator of the Winged Beringels on the RWBY universe, she did so via the power of the Grimm Pools and her own magic.

Therefore, this squiggle meister thinks it would be a really neatorrific magic trick to see Oscar use the power he inherited from Ozma that he has come to make his own during his time with Ozpin to take control of the Winged Beringels; making him the RWBY version of the Golden Cap.

Gold is in his name after all and much like the Golden Cap from Oz, Oscar is a vessel of magic. Just saying.

I mean, I doubt we’d actually see anything like that for V8 but it would’ve been something cool. As a Rosegardening Pinehead, I really love the thought of Oscar immediately daring to challenge Salem on his own upon learning that she has Ruby.

I can definitely see this being a possibility, particularly in the event that part of Oscar’s story and development for V8 would be the young huntsman coming to terms with the importance of Ruby to him; mimicking how his fairy tale counterpart---the little prince---came to revere his beloved true rose.

Perhaps it’s even a case where Salem uses Ruby to lure out Oscar. Imagine if… Salem ends up capturing Oscar by forcing him to surrender himself over to her as a means of protecting Ruby.

Or…as an alternative to that, imagine if…Oscar sacrifices himself for Ruby’s sake. Like it’s a case in which Oscar gives Salem an ultimatum in which he trades his life and freedom to become Salem’s willing prisoner in exchange for Ruby’s salvation. Basically picture a moment in which Oscar boldly proposes for Salem to imprison him and do whatever she desires to him--- torture him for the rest of his days, even kill him---in that moment, the little prince was willing to lay his life at the mercy of the wicked witch so long as no harm came to his rose as part of their deal or exchange.

Equivalent exchange, am I right?

Kind of like how Azlan surrendered himself to be “killed” by the Ice Queen in place of Edmund Pevensie in the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,

Bruh, imagine if…we got a scenario where Ruby is left unconscious for most of the finale after being poisoned by Tyrian and by the time the Silver Eyed Rose regains consciousness, she awakens to her allies begrudgingly informing her of Oscar’s sacrifice for her. Imagine a scenario in which for the majority of V8, Ruby and Oscar never truly reunite. Even though we spent more of the story with Oscar fighting to get back to his friends and Ruby; in the end it’s a case where they still don’t get to see each other or rather; Ruby never gets to see Oscar again since he gave himself to Salem for her sake. Thus, Ruby has to live with Oscar making that sacrifice for her and her mistakes this time.

Y’know what I realized---much like Ozpin (and by extension Ozma and all the Wizards in his cycle), Oscar has become the proverbial martyr to constantly pay the price for others actions even when he attempts to rectify them.

Between V5-V7, Oscar was mainly chastised because of Ozpin’s actions and past mistakes. He became an immediate foe to Hazel Rainart who he was forced to combat due to his beef with Ozpin concerning his sister. He was punched by Qrow (technically while Oz was in control but Oscar still felt the aftermath of that) out of the bird man’s anger and frustration towards Oz for the lies he told him and others. And just last season, Oscar literally got shot and sent to his presumed death by Ironwood for trying to correct mistakes made by both his predecessor and his allies.

And what’s worse about that is that Oscar had no say in any of that. He more or less just has to accept punishment for the actions of others whether he liked it or not. 

So imagine if…for another time---presumably the last time--- Oscar makes himself a martyr; paying the price for Ruby---only this time, it’s his choice to give himself up for the girl he loves. 

Doesn’t that sound like an interesting plot point to see? Perhaps this could be another way for Ruby to see the weight of her own actions and mistakes in a way.

In the Lost Princess of Oz story, I recall Princess Ozma being captured with her best friend (and closest confidant) Dorothy Gale being the one to lead a rescue party to save her. This is why I’ve been more inclined towards Oscar becoming Salem’s prisoner with Ruby the one to ultimately save him as his closest companion and potential love interest. I still like this possibility very much. 

Then again, this could also easily go the the opposite direction in which both Ruby and Oscar become unwilling prisoners of Salem. While in captivity, Salem makes sure to keep both smaller, more honest souls apart in order to play off of their bond and devotion to one another and sort of maliciously manipulate and torment them into submitting to her will. That’s another possibility that I like.

The way how I see it, V9 could potentially be a standalone Dark Domain season where either Oscar is captured by Salem after sacrificing himself for Ruby leading to her leading their allies into the Land of Darkness in order to rescue the imprisoned little prince or….it could be about Ruby and Oscar dealing with being prisoners of Salem.

For me, my money will always more be on Oscar becoming Salem’s prisoner especially if he does it in Ruby’s place because I still love my headcanon of Oscar becoming the Boy in the Lonely Tower with Salem imprisoning him in a castle of solitude like how she was first locked away before Ozma found her. I still love that theory.

But who knows. Neither of this ideas could become a thing, as far as I know. Even if the CRWBY Writers mentioned something along the lines of reading fan’s comments for certain things to happen for certain characters, I highly doubt any of em would lend to any of this squiggly Pinehead’s million and one headcanons. As always, these are only my theories, thoughts and ideas for things for RWBY.

Either way, I will say that I do think that something big could potentially go down for both Ruby and Oscar respectively next volume.

I do think we could get that self-reflection on Oscar’s part like you want Ghost---I’m just unsure how it will work given the whole 1-2 days’ timeline. Given the fact that Oz has been gone for probably a month or some weeks since the heroes got to Atlas, it would’ve been better to see more time pass in the story in order to make Oscar and Oz’s bond growing within that time more believable, y’know what I mean? At least for me. This is just my opinion here.

I mean I guess I can look at it from the perspective for their bond being forced to grow faster due to the emergency of Salem’s arrival OR….perhaps V8 could only be the start of Oscar and Oz finally learning to coexist with one another and in the event that Oscar does indeed become Salem’s prisoner---if he’s captured, that will prove the PLOT more time to have Oscar bond with Oz since for a second time, the young boy will be all alone with only Oz as his companion. That could be something. 

But who knows, y;know? I guess we’ll only know once more news of the next season drops, I suppose. In the meantime, I hope I was able to answer you, Ghost. Let me know if I did, please. 

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)  

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #rwby theories #rwby volume 8 theories #ghostpegasus #squiggles answers

[fangirlinglikeabus]

i read some non vna dw books a while ago but because i am a Clown i’ve only just finished typing up notes on them...i think my next dw book i’ll make notes as i go rather than just marking the pages and Hoping I Remember. anyway! here’s my thoughts on thirteen doctors 13 stories. i have more opinions on some than others. 

A BIG HAND FOR THE DOCTOR

"...Susan, who was possibly the only person in the universe who could make the Doctor smile at the mere thought of her."

awwwwww

didn't really like this one that much - i wasn't too impressed with eoin colfer's characterisation of the first doctor (esp since pre-ian and barbara i don’t think he’d willingly attempt to stop some villains until susan was in danger)

THE NAMELESS CITY

Polly...once described him as looking like an unmade bed.

lmao

...he didn't know exactly what he was, though when he was growing up, he had heard tales of the legendary fairy creatures of the Unseelie Court who haunted Scotland's deepest valleys. He suspected the Doctor might be one of the dark Sith.

HEAVILY vibe with this concept the world is saved by bagpipes.......peak dw THE SPEAR OF DESTINY

"You know what I love about London?" he said, turning to her briefly. She sighed. "I'm sure I can't guess." "It's the only city in the universe where you can drive around in a car that's seventy years old and get away with it." "Who says you're getting away with it?" Jo muttered. 

nkdfsjksn

"Fire away!"

"Oh, Doctor, please. Not after that business at the museum."

no doctor is immune to the temptation of a good pun. no matter how inappropriate. actually i really like how jo and three are written in this generally. there's so many good scenes. also, when the doctor asks her why she doesn't know anything about the vikings: "Doctor, we did the Romans. Every year." rip jo

From a distance the Doctor watched as a group of about twenty men loaded the TARDIS on to the back of a large low wagon pulled by four sturdy oxen.

jo: the doctor told me about the perception filter on the tardis so it'll be fine! they won't even spot it. literally the next scene, immediately:

She longed to stand and give this old goat a piece of her mind, but she knew she'd most likely fall over if she tried, which wasn't the effect she was after.

aw jo :(

"Do you know they wash once a week?" "Could have fooled me," muttered Jo.

*desperately resists the urge to write down every jo line in this story*

"I have the ship. And I have the spear. What need have I of you any more?"

the master is betrayed. to the surprise of no-one but himself.

The Doctor held her by the shoulders. "My dear girl," he said. "That is very noble of you. You were right. Your aspirations /are/ the very noblest. But you're wrong about something. Nothing is more important than you."

me, sobbing:

ROOTS OF EVIL

realised as i was reading this that i don't own any books featuring leela.....a crime

"Surprise!" the Doctor said. "You know you were complaining that you missed trees?"

this is actually the cutest thing no-one look at me

She could never understand why the Doctor was so careless of danger. It was a good thing he had her to look after him, she thought, as he opened the TARDIS door and they stepped out together into dim, green light and the earthy, warm-compost smell inside the great tree.

phillip reeve gets the four+leela dynamic. like. he Gets it. 

"It will not hurt you," she promised. "It is called a 'scarf'. It is like a cloak, only pointless."

ousdofnsoksfd

"Did it look a bit like a gravel pit? You'd be amazed how many alien worlds look just like gravel pits..."

what is doctor who. without quarry jokes.

"I mean, he's wearing a bow tie!" the Doctor explained patiently. "Ridiculous objects! I wouldn't be seen dead in a bow tie!"

1) says the guy who wears an obnoxiously long scarf everywhere 2) honey, you've got a big storm coming

TIP OF THE TONGUE

there's a scene in this where nyssa and the doctor chill at a diner and they drink chocolate milkshakes together. this is all i care about.

Good Lord, was that celery he was wearing on his lapel?

Yeah We Know

"Are you British?" Nettie said, as if this was the most surprising part of the whole thing.

i mean, fair

He paused. "I don't suppose either of you would be interested in travelling?"

the fifth doctor: hey one of my friends died recently and i abandoned the other one but i really miss having a large crew so i was wondering if you two literal children would like to risk your life travelling with me :)

SOMETHING BORROWED

you'd think given this one is from peri's pov she'd be slightly more central to the plot. ah well.

"That's two storeys up!" I exclaimed. "And I'm in heels." "Well then, you should have worn more sensible shoes, shouldn't you?"

maybe she lives in hope that she won't have to do any running/scale buildings every time she steps out of the tardis. i get that. 

"Well, you are the expert when it comes to gaudy," I said, giving a meaningful look to his red-and-yellow plaid coat and green tie.

every six story is legally obligated to drag his coat

The Doctor shook the man's hand vigorously. "Yes, yes. A little different round the edges since our last meeting on Kiri 4, but all the charm and intellect are still here."

i love this bastard.......

"Love? That contrived, chemically driven state of idiocy?"

mood

A clatter of metal was the sole warning I had before a hole in the ceiling suddenly opened, and the Doctor came tumbling down to the floor, landing in an ungraceful heap of rainbow plaid. Nonetheless, he rose to his feet with all the dignity of an Olympic gymnast who'd just landed a perfect somersault.

not to sound like a broken record but i would Die for this idiot

withholding myself from using more quotes to illustrate my unbridled love for the sixth doctor whom..........

"You might regret not helping me with this one day," she  [the Rani] called over to us. "Your next regeneration may be sooner than you think."

Huh. I Wonder What That's Referring To

RIPPLE EFFECT

From the look on his face, Ace reckoned that a visit to the Time Lords was something similar to her having to visit the dentist back on Earth.

i mean to be fair.....the time lords are a whole lot worse although in this case the doctor's reasons for not wanting to visit are: (i) they're 'old, boring and judgemental' (ii) they have stupid clothes and a stupid non-intervention policy (iii) they treat him 'like a naughty schoolboy' (can't have that in front of your companion!)

i apparently didn't have many comments to make on this one. um...it was good. i liked the idea of an alternate universe with nice daleks. MOVING ON

SPORE

"They're all dead....everyone's dead, flesh turned to liquid. It moves...There are things! Moving things! They're alive..." Major Platt looked up at the Doctor. "The caller became incoherent after that and disconnected shortly after." The Doctor drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the top of the aluminium folding-table between them. "Hmm...That really doesn't sound very good."

YEAH YA THINK?

"I was at the opera," the Doctor explained, "when my phone went off."

this is his excuse for That outfit. really just copying everything from grace here huh

THE BEAST OF BABYLON

She also didn't yet know that he wasn't a man at all.

yeah cos he's non-binary duh

"So now we're landing on Earth," he shouted, "two thousand years before the birth of Christ..." "Who?" "He was a bit like Sherlock Holmes. Knew the answers to everything. Very good at solving mysteries. Some humans use him to measure time."

obsessed with the implications of this dialogue...

THE MYSTERY OF THE HAUNTED COTTAGE

absolutely love the concept of this one...a world created from martha's memories of reading a famous five expy as a child

"What?" Martha said defensively, keeping her voice down. "That's how he was described in the books. Don't blame me. This was 1951. Everything back then was blinkered, sexist, and ever-so-slightly racist. It was a backward time." "Ah, yes," said the Doctor, "because 2007 has none of those things."

vibe with this convo

"Am I lonely?" Martha asked. "You're a particle of dust," the Doctor said. "Of course you're not lonely." "I sound lonely." "Well you're not; you're having a great time."

this conversation where the doctor tells martha to imagine herself as a particle of dust has exactly the same kind of energy as discussions you have at 3am at a sleepover

NOTHING O'CLOCK

Amy looked irritated. She wasn't irritated, but she liked to give him the impression she was, just to show him who was boss.

yeah...

ok the villains in this one are actually really fucked up like. it's been a While since i read it now because i procrastinated on making these notes but they were Good creepy. thank you mr gaiman. 

LIGHTS OUT

now THIS is one where the pov heavily contributes to the story...

He turns to look at me with piercing, hollow-set grey eyes, then furrows his impressive silvery brows. "I'm buying a coffee," he says. "For a girl."

so THAT'S why twelve took so long to find coffee for clara......he wasn't buying it on earth. good vibes

TIME LAPSE

i absolutely LOVE the concept for this one, which is that the year 2004 completely disappears from records

A typed envelope reading The Doctor, The TARDIS, Ex-Gallifrey followed by a long string of numbers, letters, and things that probably were letters but looked like they came from about eight different languages.

obsessed with the fact that (i) you can apparently send letters to the tardis, like it has an actual address (mel throwing a message in a bottle into space doesn't seem so unreasonable now huh...) (ii) part of this address is 'ex-gallifrey'

this dude gets rejected. and is so badly embarrassed that he erases 2004 from existence. i promise i'm not making this up.

#laura reads dw books #long post #oof i promise the other one i've got notes for isn't this long.....i just had a lot of Thoughts #aside from eoin colfer's i actually really enjoyed all the stories! would highly recommend this collection

[timeagainreviews]

A Case for Older Companions

Back in 2013, before Doctor Who aired its 50th Anniversary special, there was a lot of speculation as to which Doctors would return. Would Christopher Eccleston make an appearance? Would any of the classic era Doctors return? Aside from a suitably strange appearance by Tom Baker as "The Curator," the answer would be "None… sort of." While Peter Davison’s age was explained away in "Time Crash," it would appear this explanation could not withstand the feature length of the episode. We most likely would not see the likes of the Fifth, Sixth, or Seventh Doctors. Enter John Hurt, the War Doctor and cypher for the classic era of Doctor Who. An old man to balance out the young faces of Matt Smith and David Tennant.

Perhaps it harkens back to the First Doctor, but it seems an important aspect of the War Doctor was to be a bit of an old curmudgeon. In many ways, the blueprint of Doctor Who has always lent itself to having a mature presence in the TARDIS. Usually, this role was reserved for the Doctor himself. Up until the Fifth Doctor, the Doctor had been portrayed by men in their 40’s and 50’s. However, it’s not always the Doctor who is the mature figure onboard. Sometimes, it’s the companions themselves.

While not old by any means, both Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright are perfect examples of older companions. Compare their ages to someone like Vicky, Zoey, or even Rose Tyler, and the difference is clear. These adults bring a different sort of energy to the role of companion than say a young woman working in a shop. I’ve touched on this before with Graham O’Brien. The ways in which an older companion can be a more realised person, have a capacity to change the dynamic of the Doctor/companion relationship. And with this, we get a different perspective on this relationship.

One of the things I hear constantly is how Edward Cullen-esqe it is for the Doctors to fall in love with their companions. People call it creepy that a 2000-year-old Time Lord would date such a young person. While I think this argument is often an excuse not to want to see romance in the TARDIS, it does bring up an interesting point about impressionability. Rory Williams said it himself- "It's not that you make people take risks, it's that you make them want to impress you... You have no idea how dangerous you make people to themselves when you're around." If you're going to make the point of a companion being too young to kiss the Doctor, you could also make the same argument about travelling with the Doctor.

This is where older companions have the upper hand. While many young companions join the Doctor in a whirlwind of confused emotions and self-discovery, an older companion such as Graham, or Evelyn Smythe bring a sort of self-realisation. The concept of choice is less muddled, as their lives are not threatened by peaking in their early twenties. They've seen the world, had their hearts broken, and become stronger people because of it.

Mind you, this is not always entirely the case. Donna Noble entered the TARDIS in a whirlwind of her own unhappiness, but even her problems were grown-ass woman problems. Stuck in a dead-end job, looking to do something of importance, and to see more of the universe, her bags were packed. Her choices were not made due to an infatuation with an older, dashing man. This isn't "An Education," this is a friendship. This is a choice. Compare this to Amy Pond, whose bags were also packed, by no choice at all. The Eleventh Doctor comments on the imprint young Amelia left on him as the first face his face had met. But in truth it was the other way around. The raggedy man left such an indelible mark on her, that it almost ruined her life.

Please don't construe this as me condemning the show. I think in many ways, Doctor Who is a bit of light entertainment that doesn't need to answer such heavy issues. And as with Amy Pond, it has explored this concept in depth. What I'm mostly getting at is that an older companion's maturity can bring a more active quality to the story. There's a sort of forward progression inherent in a character knowing why they choose to travel with the Doctor. And in many ways, this strength of choice bolsters their relationship to something more reasonable. Something responsible.

It's not just the rationality of the companion that is bolstered either. Older companions have a way of balancing the Doctor as well. After being followed around by two young women like puppy dogs, the Tenth Doctor's arrogance was put in check by Donna Noble's "take no shit from anyone," attitude. The result was her having a balancing effect on his more reckless tendencies. The same could be said about the relationship between the Sixth Doctor and Evelyn Smythe. With Peri, he was often over-bearing, selfish, and difficult. But with Evelyn, he seemed to be on better behaviour. His tantrums afforded him less capital with her patience. He strived to impress her with his scientific knowledge, over say, his own bravado. Because of this, she's my favourite companion of the Sixth Doctor era.

While maybe not full-on companions, both Jackie Tyler and Brian Williams had similar effects on the Doctor. In many ways, I like Jackie Tyler even more than Rose. As parents to companions, both characters act as a sort of reminder to the Doctor that his friends aren't just fodder. Their presence demands a responsibility on the Doctor's part that can be both sobering and grounding for the Doctor. They understand the importance of the Doctor's work, so much that they even join the fight on occasion. But they do so with little room for the Doctor's ego.

Thankfully, babysitting a petulant Time Lord isn't the only quality an older companion can bring to the table. Their perspectives often have a way of helping the Doctors understand themselves, or even the situation at hand. Wilfred Mott and the Tenth Doctor spoke like two old soldiers, allowing the Tenth Doctor a rare moment of nostalgia. It's easy not to look back when you have a young person with you. Everything is in the future (even when they're in the past). An old man like Wilfred gave us a surprising glimpse into the Doctor's sensitivity and vulnerability. Their adventure together in "The End of Time," remains one of my favourite Doctor/companion dynamics to this day.

Not only can an older companion bring perspective to the Doctor, they also possess the capacity to shed new light on the role of companion. Not only can their maturity aid their approach, but it can also add new levels of tension. A man like Graham, or even ersatz companions such as Jago & Litefoot, don't possess the same vitality of companions like Leela or Jamie McCrimmon. Instead, they have to rely on solutions that require less physical exertion and more planning. Think of women's roller derby or even the WNBA, where fundamentals of the game are given focus over the more aggressive approach of their male counterparts. These are companions with practicality by necessity. The wrong decisions could be even more disastrous when the outcome could mean relying on weak knees and stunted mobility.

It's easy to see why a young companion is an obvious choice for the show. They're often gorgeous people through which the audience can experience the Doctor. We watch them grow over time, to varying degrees of success on the writers' behalves. Martha Jones becomes a stronger, more independent person by choosing to leave the Doctor. Ace confronts some of her deepest fears. It's rare that an older companion brings the same vigour to the role. Bar maybe River Song or the Brigadier, few of them are action heroes. But almost without fail, these seasoned heroes exude charm and character that only age can bring. Even one-time companions (such as Amelia Rumford from "Stones of Blood,") remain popular within the fandom, due to their unique personalities. So much, that one may make the argument for their status as honorary companions.

Series eleven has been polarising on many different levels, but one of the most common bits of praise I hear was the choice to bring Graham onboard the TARDIS. In classic Doctor Who, we got companions out of time, companions from other planets, and even some robots. But in modern Doctor Who, not so much. Even futuristic Oswin became modern day Clara Oswald, for better or worse. The show was suffering from a line of predictable companions, from relatively similar backgrounds. You'll understand then, the pure excitement I had at the prospect of a granddad running around the TARDIS. It's sometimes easy to forget that the Doctor started out as "Grandfather." It's an important energy that was present at the genesis of the show.

Having companions always portrayed as young and attractive is about as believable as every superhero being a beautiful person. The truth of the matter is that you'd get the occasional old codger or school matron. This isn't American television where everyone has perfect teeth and washboard abs. It’s important to remember the value of the aged and elderly. Having aged companions is true to life. It is, essentially, rather British.

#doctor who #companions #Graham O'Brien #donna noble #river song #amelia rumford #brigadier lethbridge stewart #brian williams #jackie tyler #wilfred mott #evelyn smythe #sixth doctor #tenth doctor #Ian Chesterton #Barbara Wright #war doctor #eleventh doctor #amy pond #rory williams

[padfootagain]

Guardians Of Middle-Earth (IV)

Chapter 4 : Advices and Visions

Here I am again with a new chapter for this story! I hope you like it :)

Warning for violence, death and dark themes so be careful if you are not comfortable with these things.

As there are two different timelines, the paragraphs of the same timeline are separated with these ****** and of two different timelines with these —–.

I really hope you like this chapter. Please, please, please, tell me what you think about it, it’s very important to me to know what you think so I can keep on improving the storyline.

Word Count : 5383

@marvelcapsicle made the beautiful aesthetic!

"Slaves?"

There was a hushed whisper shaking the whole crowd gathered in the great hall of stone. Eldarion's story was already shaking their knowledge of Middle-Earth and the lands beyond their borders.

Eldarion nodded at Faramir's shocked question.

"What did you do then?" Eomer asked, leaning on his chair towards the man before him.

"We took the children to the house we walked to, and their child came home safely."

"What about the others?"

"All except for Clea had a family living nearby. We left them in the house, the child's parents would take them to their own home the next day."

"And Clea?"

"Her farm had been attacked, it was further in the lands, closer to Rohan. So, we took some time to go there and look for her family."

"What did you find?"

Eldarion heaved a tired sigh, and for a moment, his shoulders seemed to bend under a heavy weight he had to carry and usually hid away from strangers' eyes. But it looked like this time, the burden was too heavy for Eldarion to cheat his audience, and the mask cracked slightly as his eyes became sadder than before.

"There was not much to be found," he answered elusively.

"What did you find?" Aldir asked more loudly, repeating Eomer's words, but with an acid tone.

Eldarion stared right into the eyes of this man who accused him, of this man who made him lose so much time, when he had none to spare.

But as his chocolate eyes travelled through the room, Eldarion could read the truth in the Lords' gazes.

They would not stop asking this question.

He had no choice but to speak.

And so, he spoke…

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

 Five years earlier

 Ana's soft gaze fell on the form of this child, asleep and cowered near the fire. For the seventh night in a row, Clea couldn't sleep, except if Eldarion held her, her fears too strong for her to close her eyes and find any rest.

The Witch looked at Eldarion's fingers soothingly stroking this child's hair as he slowly swayed back and forth to lull her to sleep. Ana could see Clea's eyes moving at the rhythm of her dreams under her closed eyelids. She had found rest, eventually…

When Ana looked up again, Eldarion was staring at her, a worried expression covering his graceful features. So, she stood up, crossing the shadows that separated them, and came to sit next to Eldarion.

"Why are you worried? Do you have nightmares again?" Ana asked the Prince softly, her voice a mere whisper to avoid waking up the girl in Eldarion's arms.

But the man shook his head, his eyes drifting towards the rest of the guardians, all deeply asleep.

Above their heads, the trees had left the skies, the small hills now covered with nothing but a yellowish grass and scattered rocks, instead of the many bushes that Ithilien offered. They were walking closer to Rohan, and should reach Clea's house the next morning. But for now, shadows coloured the inky sky, and it seemed that they had conquered Eldarion's soul as well.

"What are we going to do with her?" he asked in a breath.

"We are going to take her to her parents, and all will be fine," Ana reassured him.

But he shook his head.

"Have you ever felt… like something terrible was about to happen?"

She stared at him with a stern glance, but nodded.

"I feel… I don't think that we will find anything good there."

"It is just a thought, El."

"It's more than that. Call it intuition, if you will… but I know that we shall find no shelter for her in her old home. And then… what are we going to do with her? We cannot take her with us further. We still have a mission to complete, a mission that seems more and more important as we find new clues towards this 'G'."

But instead of replying to his question, Ana looked up at the sky.

"Gandalf taught me the name of all the stars above," she told him instead of answering him. "He said that they were the only living things we could rely on. They rose and set without faltering, just like the sun and the moon. And always took the same path, to make sure that we could use them to guide our own steps through the world."

He looked at her again this time, listening in silence, wondering what she meant to say.

"Some say that our fates are written in the stars. Some go as far as to say that one who would be wise enough could read the future in the heavens. But I don't think that it is possible. I think that we must find our path on our own. No one will pave the road in our stead, and we will just stumble and fall if we don't rise and try harder and harder, as more obstacles are set on our course."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the whole universe shrank to watch this scene. It felt like this to Eldarion, at least.

"Do not underestimate the power of chaos," Ana went on. "Coincidences… they are what truly govern our lives. Meeting a person rather than another is just a long line of decisions, leading both you and this person at this precise place, for this precise moment. And the stars have nothing to do with it all. It's just you, El. You and your choices will shape your future, and the futures of so many people you are yet to meet or miss. I do believe that we can sense danger. But none of us can see the future. Not really. The ones who claim to have the gift of foresight merely see a possibility. As long as events didn't happen, they are not carved in the stone, and they can still be changed. Be careful with your instinct. It might not always be right."

"So… do you think that we will find her parents tomorrow?"

"I don't know, El. That's the point. I do not know, and there is no way for me to guess. We shall see. I hope we will, but I suppose that if there is no one left there, we will have to take care of this child for a little longer."

"I really do hope that my intuition is failing me this time."

Ana gave him a sad smile, but didn't answer anything as her eyes drifted back to the child Eldarion still cradled in his arms.

And she hoped he was wrong too.

 *************************************************************

 Eldarion was carrying Clea again. A fragile little form wrapped in his strong arms. The long walk carrying his pack and the child was becoming tiring, his muscles aching and sweat glistening upon his brow as his breaths grew shallower. But instead of complaining, he kept on walking in silence. Eoden offered to carry the girl for a while, but the child shook her head, and Eldarion couldn't bring himself to put her down. She still seemed afraid, too afraid for Eldarion to refuse to carry her. When they finally reached a path known to Clea, Eldarion could see her face brighten with hope.

And he focused all his strength and all his will to hope that her house could still be here. That she would be welcomed by her family and that all would be well.

She had suffered enough for a lifetime. And if he was to be honest with himself, Eldarion was growing fond of this little child. And yet… yet he still had this dreadful feeling tightening his heart.

And the more he walked, the stronger this feeling became.

Ana and Adhalan decided to walk further on, taking a look at what was to come on the road, as Eldarion was starting to lose his casual pace.

But as Ana caught the first signs, her heart froze in her chest. And judging by the way her friend slowed down by her side, the elf had the same reaction.

First, many footsteps on the path. Grass stamped and branches broken and earth turned into mud. The prints of hooves were added in the midst of the traces left by men.

Then, the first signs of fire. Ashes caught in the leaves of the rare bushes around them and in the mud under their feet.

And when they finally reached the house, it was to discover ruins blackened by fire.

Ana heaved a painful sigh, her heart aching. But there was nothing she could do…

They were too late.

"Go back to the others, there's no need for the child to see this," she ordered Adhalan. "I'll look for her family."

The elf silently turned around, sorrow painted on her features, but not a word passed her lips. There was no need to speak, after all.

Ana walked further on, closer to the devastated house. She recognized what should have been crops on her right. Upon her left, the distant mountains pierced the sky, their white tops contrasting with the pale blue of the sky. Before her, the house was completely destroyed. The roof was gone, along with most of the walls. A few pillars remained standing, darkened by flames that were already dead. Judging by the absence of any scent, Ana guessed that the house had been destroyed several days before. Perhaps when the child had been taken.

She walked through the ruins, but there was no trace of a body inside. And for a moment, the hope that the child's parents could have survived made her heart quicken.

She walked around the house, catching the sound of some of her companions approaching. But she didn't wait for them, and walked behind the house alone.

She didn't need to go very far to find was she was so afraid to discover.

The two bodies had been burnt just like their home. She easily recognized the skeletons of a grown man and woman. She found the tip of an arrow between two ribs of one of them, and a large mark across the skull of the other, leaving the causes of their deaths obvious. With a gesture of her hand, she covered the bodies with earth and grass, and made niphredil grow on the two tombs.

She recognized the light steps of Eldarion as the man walked to her. She heard his steps slowing down as he advanced towards her, until his movements sounded reluctant. Because he knew the answer to the question he asked next.

"Did you find her parents?"

Ana nodded slowly.

"They're here. I took care of them. Their tomb will not be disturbed."

She saw him clenching his jaw, his fists closing into fists, and in his eyes, there was a burning rage mingled with pain that she found dangerous. But when he spoke again, his voice was cleared of any trace of anger, and was merely lower and deeper than usual.

"What are we going to do with Clea?"

"We can't take her with us."

"We can't abandon her. She is merely a child."

"We need to find an orphanage."

Ana turned to him, fully facing him, and rested her hand on his shoulder. But his eyes remained fixed on the pale flowers covering the tombs before him.

"There is nothing more that we can do for her. Nothing, El. We cannot take her with us further on our journey. She will be safe in an orphanage."

He slowly nodded, knowing that the witch was right. But he could not help the feeling that tightened his heart that he was failing this child that trusted him so blindly. He wished he could save her parents, he wished he could do something… anything… but his mind was blank, and indeed, he knew there was no way for him to help her furthermore.

"Let's go. There is nothing to be saved here," Ana added, already walking towards her companions.

And Eldarion soon followed her steps, unless he walked to the house before joining the rest of the Guard. He walked towards the ruins of what had been a home. He painted upon the broken table the sight of a child and her parents eating and laughing happily. Upon the bed he drew the form of Clea under white sheets, listening to her mother telling her stories to bring her a night of sleep filled with dreams…

Upon the house devastated by fire, he painted this life Clea had lost and that her home had sheltered, until now.

He wondered how he could tell her that her parents were gone…

He felt that he was walking on something, and he looked down, searching for the object he had set a foot upon. And this time, he felt tears stinging his eyes, tears that he barely managed to hold back.

He bent down to pick up a burnt doll. The straws used to make the toy crumbled under his touch, turning into a white dust that slowly fell onto the floor. A blue piece of fabric had been used to make a dress, but there was nothing to be saved of the toy. Softly, gently, he put it down upon the child's bed.

He turned around and walked out of the ruins with his head high, but his heart broken.

 *******************************************************

 Ana had her eyes closed. The last thought that she could remember was the image of Eldarion as he told Clea about her family. The pain and denial in the child's gaze, desperately searching through Eldarion's eyes if he was lying, or if the nightmare was true. The memory made her jump upright, opening her eyes as quickly as she could.

But instead of finding the fire she and her companions had made, and the sleepless forms of her friends lying in the dry grass, she opened her eyes only to blink to a vivid white light of the full moon.

She knew right away that she was lost in a dream. A dream that always changed and yet was always the same. She was always sitting on the little bench set right outside Bag End, the peaceful landscapes of the Shire splayed before her, the great trees covering a starry sky. The tall Mallorn that had replaced the party tree destroyed by Saroumane and his servants many years before was in full bloom, its golden flowers shining under the moonlight. And next to her was the tall figure of Gandalf.

And in her dreams, he was still cloaked in grey, final proof that the whole scenery was made only by her doubting mind. Still, the vision was so vivid, she wondered sometimes if he could be able to reach out to her from the White Shores.

He smiled at her with mischief, before setting his gaze on the peaceful fields and smials once more.

"It is good to see you again, Ana."

"You are only in my head."

"Am I? And if so, is it important? My voice rings in your ears as if I was still before you in flesh and blood. So, does it really change anything to the power of my words?"

She shook her head. She couldn't help it, the way she always listened to him and always longed to see him when she needed advices.

"Why are you summoning me this time, Ana?" Gandalf asked, as the Witch was heaving a sigh.

"I worry about the child we have found," she admitted.

"Clea? Oh, yes… It sounds like you indeed, to worry about children most of all."

"She has lost everything. I do not want to leave her behind, but I cannot see any other way to help her."

Gandalf slowly nodded but remained silent, taking a long pipe from under his cloak, and filling it with what Ana recognized as the best pipe-weed of the Shire. As he ignited the plant, she imitated him, taking her own pipe and her little bag filled with Longbottom Leaf.

Gandalf let out a long blow of blue smoke, that he shaped like a dragon flying towards the night.

"I know that you have always longed to help. It has led you into many dangers already, this will of yours to do good," Gandalf finally broke the silence between them. "And I must admit… that I feel proud that you have never lost this desire to do good, despite all the darkness and evil we have faced together."

"I don't know what to do, Gandalf…"

"Doubt was always your enemy, and yet it is also your most loyal companion. Do not doubt your value. Many decisions that you have taken and will take will bring more questions than answers. But what we long to accomplish is rarely what we can do. And wisdom is a cruel ally we must rely on."

He turned to her, finally meeting her gaze.

"You have taken the right decision. It is the only one you can take."

"I don't want to leave her in an orphanage."

"Then she will most surely die on the road following you and your companions. Is that better than bidding her farewell?"

Ana shook her head, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"What is right is rarely what is easy," Gandalf gave her a sad and compassionate smile.

"I wish you were here, Gandalf," Ana let out in a shaky breath. "I wish… I wish you could help me again…"

"Everything has a time to live, and a time to die. I have walked across Middle-Earth for many lives of men. It was my time to leave. And I am grateful, for I had a lot of time here, and a lot of time with many people I loved dearly. You included."

Ana smiled up at him, even if there were tears in her eyes.

"I wonder how Eldarion will react when he and Clea will have to part," the witch changed the subject.

"He seems fond of children. Just like you. He will need your help, and you will need his."

"What do you mean? That I will need him with Clea?"

But Gandalf merely smiled, before letting out another dragon made of smoke…

… and the next second, she was sitting up in a hurry, her breathing laboured and brow covered with sweat. Eldarion was kneeling by her side, a worried expression upon his features.

"Is everything alright, Ana?" the Prince softly asked. "You had a nightmare, I had to wake you up."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, El. You did right to wake me up."

"You… you kept on calling for Gandalf… would you like to tell me what happened in your dream?"

She gave him a grateful smile.

"I am just fine now. Thank you. Maybe one day, I will tell you about my dreams, but not for now."

Eldarion merely accepted her decision with a nod, before lying down on the ground again and covering himself with a warm blanket.

And Ana did just the same, closing her eyes once more in an attempt to find a few more hours of rest before the sun would rise.

But again and again, the last words of Gandalf kept on repeating themselves in her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what they meant.

What task was so important for her to achieve and for which Eldarion's help would be essential?

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

 Minas Tirith

 The afternoon was already dying. Dark clouds stretched across the sky and darkened as the sun sank beyond the mountains. Eldarion's tales took a long while to be told, and all the Lords gathered in the great halls of Minas Tirith could feel tiredness weighing onto their shoulders. It was time to call for a good night of rest. The second Faramir declared the end of the trial for the day, the guards stepped next to Eldarion to close the chains around his wrists again. The prince didn't try to resist, he merely gave a sad smile to his guards as they guided him outside.

Through the corridor that had seen him grow into a man, he walked now in chains and with armed soldiers surrounding him. But all along, he walked with his head high, not throwing a single glance to these people who kept on staring at him as he passed before them. He had learned to keep his stature proud despite chains.

They led him to his room once more and only unchained his hands once he was inside. His untouched meal had been cleaned away and a brand-new plate filled with a piece of bread, cheese and ham again was set on the table. Once more, a glass of wine was set by its side on the wooden surface.

Again, once the door was closed, Eldarion didn't hear the soldiers walk away. They were remaining on sentries for the night, he guessed. He walked directly to the window, ignoring the meal that had been brought for him.

He wasn't hungry. He was too worried for that. The dark clouds mingled with the shadows of the night hid the line between the Ephel Duath and the sky. The horizon was just a wall made of darkness. He wondered, for a moment, if that was what his future would look like.

A shadow that covered everything and blurred the lines between Heaven and Hell…

A small smile graced his lips. He knew what awaited after this world. He had seen the white shores before, just a glimpse, but enough to know that a place there was saved for him. And the thought of having a chance to be with her, at least in this world that would come after Middle-Earth, warmed his heart enough to turn his sad smile into a bright one that reached his eyes.

He hadn't talked to his father about her yet. He hadn't talked about what had happened in the Eastern Lands, he hadn't talked about what they had discovered there, he hadn't talked about what was coming…

He needed to see his father, and he needed to do it fast. Fast enough to get ready, fast enough to be prepared. Fast enough to save them all…

His eyes fell upon the white stones that formed this city he called home.

Was it still home though? Did his home had to be just there, carved in the stones of this mountain he knew like the back of his hand? Couldn't it be here, but there, so far away, as well? How could he just choose one?

He started as someone knocked on his door. And as he focused, summoning all his senses, he finally realized that not two or three, but only one man was breathing in the corridor now.

Someone could have knocked out the two guards?

Perhaps, but Eldarion was not afraid. He had faced so many dangers… he was not afraid to die anymore.

He walked slowly to the door, but waited for it to be opened. He didn't have the key. After all, he was still a prisoner, even if he was in his bedroom.

When the door opened, he noticed right away that the two guards had disappeared. And when his eyes fell on the tall silhouette before him, no matter if the man was wrapped in a dark cloak, Eldarion recognized his father immediately.

It was silently that the Prince let the King enter his room. He was at a loss for words all of a sudden, him who had longed to see his father for so long, who needed to talk with this tall man about so many subjects… now that Aragorn was here, Eldarion couldn't bring himself to let a single sound pass his lips.

Aragorn closed the door behind him, before advancing through the room. He didn't look at Eldarion as he walked to the window, throwing back the hood that hid his face. Clearly, the King didn't want anyone to know that he had visited his son, but Eldarion could hardly blame him, even if the gesture broke his heart.

They remained motionless for a while, Aragorn staring at the landscape splayed before him even if his eyes could see nothing of the mingled shadows and golden lights outside, and his son staring at his father's back, too scared to speak for now. Silence was the only sound in the room. One could have thought that time itself had stopped in the old Prince's chamber.

But eventually, silence was too loud for Eldarion to take, and when he broke the heavy walls between himself and Elessar, it was with a shushed voice, trembling with apprehension.

"Ada?"

The word brought tears to Aragorn's eyes. How many times he had heard this word spoken by his only son in his dreams during these past five years… he had lost count. And yet… yet now that the voice was true,  all he could hear in his son's tone was fear and sadness, these two emotions he wished he could ban from his Realm for eternity.

Slowly, he turned towards Eldarion, his jaw clenched to hold back the tears that threatened to escape, and a stern expression on his kingly features. They stared at each other for a moment, brown eyes diving into grey ones.

"You asked to see me," Aragorn spoke in a neutral tone.

He could read in his son's eyes that this coldness in his voice was hurting him. But Eldarion merely nodded in response.

"We are not safe anymore. We need to get ready," the Prince spoke with a detached voice that matched his father's. "They are coming for us."

"They?"

"Everything we feared to be true happened. Everything we longed to see disappear lasted. We have little time left before war would strike our home."

"What proof do you have?"

Eldarion frowned.

"Do you have so little trust and faith in me now, that you do not believe me at all?"

Aragorn straightened his back a bit more, crossing his arms before his chest.

"You are on trial for murder," he merely replied, and Eldarion heaved a sigh.

"Father…"

"I heard many stories these past five years," Aragorn interrupted his son. "I have pushed them away, for most of them described your actions poorly. But now, this trial puts things back in perspective, and I wonder if I have been right all these years to ignore rumours. After all, now, it sounds like all these whispers were true."

Eldarion clenched his jaw, taking a few steps towards his father. And when he spoke, there was such a fire alit in his dark brown eyes, Aragorn knew it had been forged in the highest dangers and greatest pains.

"It was our wish to remain silent and hidden for five years," Eldarion let out in a shaking breath, that turned angrier and angrier as the words passed his lips. "You sent us to spy, after all. Eren told me about a few rumours. I'm not a drunk. I haven't drunk a single drop of liquor in years. I have fought for five years and lost so many people that I loved and seen so much blood and pain and despair… I have never been perfect, but idleness is not one of my flaws. And now, I am tired. I am tired of wasting time we do not have…"

"You are accused of murder!"

"I have killed so many people that I have lost count by now."

Aragorn didn't answer, his jaw clenching, but not out of anger, out of pain this time.

"It doesn't matter," Eldarion shook his head, his voice calmer, soft now. "What happens to me, what happened during these five years, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that we are in danger. All of us. And we need to get ready to fight."

"No one will believe you."

"Do you?"

Eldarion's breath caught in his throat as his father remained silently staring at him.

"They have an army," the Prince went on. "We need to get ours ready. We've tried to buy you all time, but we can't deal with it all on our own anymore. That's why I came back. To warn you all, to make sure that you would be ready for the war that is to come."

"Sauron was destroyed…"

"Evil can never really be defeated. It lives in all of us, after all. How could we win forever with swords a battle we cannot end in our own hearts?"

Eldarion shook his head again.

"Many have turned in the East. Many are fighting for the light as well. Evil took many forms, but his strongest figure has yet to show itself in our lands. Ada, there is little time left, but we can still stop this. We can still avoid an open war."

"How?"

"If we find their chief and kill him first…"

"Are you talking about murder?"

"I am talking about avoiding a war."

"There will be no murderer in our midst."

Eldarion narrowed his eyes.

"Both our hands are covered in blood, Ada. The blood on mine is just fresher than it is upon yours. We killed the same way, for the same purpose."

"Eldarion…"

"You have no idea what could happen if we don't find this enemy on time. You have no idea, but I do. And if I have to kill a man in cold blood murder to avoid this much pain to destroy our Realm, then I will do it. Without hesitation."

Aragorn's eyes turned sad, suddenly, his expression softening as he rested a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed it, as if he wanted to make sure that his son was really standing there, and that the world around him was not a mere dream.

"What happened to you?" Elessar asked in a breath.

"Ada, you must trust me."

"You've changed so much…"

Eldarion gave him a smile, but the gesture was not happy, and didn't reach his brown eyes.

"Was it not the point of sending me away? To make me change? To make me grow?"

"Before you left, you would have never seen murder as a possibility…"

"I am too afraid to think about what is right or wrong," Eldarion interrupted his father. "I am too afraid to take the risk of this enemy escaping again. I did it the right way once. Thought that I could arrest him and get out of it all with my hands clean from his blood. And I failed. And now, here we are, with war on our doorstep and an enemy ready to destroy everything and everyone we care about. I made this mistake of showing mercy to a being who has none, I will not repeat that mistake. I have given up on my soul a long time ago anyway, and I am not afraid to die…"

"Do not speak words like these…"

"I am not afraid to die, Ada," Eldarion repeated anyway. "I am afraid to live when all those I care about are dead. I am afraid to be too late. I was too late once, and I lost my best friend. I will not let that happen with our kingdom."

"Eldarion…"

"There is no other way. We need to find our enemy and kill him while we have the chance."

"I will not help you murder a man."

It was Eldarion's turn to rest a hand on his father's shoulder.

"If we can deal with our foe in another way, then so be it. But you were ready to destroy Sauron a long time ago, without mercy."

"It was different."

"It is just the same choice. One life we know is too evil to repent, against our people's lives, innocent lives. I have made my choice, and it is the same that you took long ago."

"You cannot compare Sauron to any other foe we might have to face."

"Oh, believe me, father, I can."

*******************

Tag List : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynight-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss

#eldarion #eldarion imagine #eldarion fanfic #lotr #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #tolkien imagine #tolkien fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn imagine #aragorn #imagine #fanfic #writing

[sharingshane-blog]

BPD in Doctor Who

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Suicide, Abuse, Self-Harm, Mentions of Physical Assault and Rape

When I was 17, almost a senior in high school, I watched my first episode of Doctor Who.  I started with Christopher Eccleston and worked my way through.  It took me only a couple of episodes before I was hooked. I became obsessed with the series, and many of the characters, particularly the ones from the Russel T. Davies era, because I felt like I could emotionally connect with them.  I understood them.  Rose Tyler really grew on me.  She was supposed to be around my age at the time, and we both lived at our parents’ home feeling overall empty and worthless.  

At that age, my anxiety and depression were particularly bad. Someone who was mentor and major influence in my life had committed suicide.  Not long after, my grandfather whom I would see all the time passed away. I was already wallowing in major levels of grief and loss.  I had also just gotten permission to skip eleventh grade and graduate a year early from high school.  With that, I had to work last minute to get myself together, so I could apply to colleges and universities.  My parents had a history of neglecting my needs frequently and one of the ways they did was helping me prepare for college.  They refused to help me research or check out schools.  They would not take me on visits because it was too much of a “financial burden” on them.  They also refused to teach me how to drive or help me much at all for the next step ahead.  I felt extremely lonely and I felt very abandoned.  My parents have a history of physical and emotional abuse towards me, but I did not come to terms with that until I was in college, eventually developing PTSD.  

Feelings of abandonment and isolation became chronic and debilitating for me.  There were many emotions I would bottle up until I could not take it anymore.  I felt like a geyser.  As the emotions bubbled and heated more, the pressure in the chamber underground increased until there was a burst of boiling hot water—a crisis or outburst of anger.  I had trouble maintaining consistent relationships with people which only added to the loneliness.  People came and went, and I never expected them to stay.  I felt too worthless to think they would care about me.  I had recurrent suicidal ideation.  For a long time, the way I would keep myself alive would to just tell myself every night that I will just kill myself the next day. I refused to go to therapy until well into college.  This had to do in part that I did not know how to express my emotions, and it also had to do in pat because of trauma.  My mom forced me against my will (on my 16th birthday) to see her therapist and basically admit how horrible of a child I have been.  After my grandfather’s death, I did attempt to see a counselor, but it was a religious counselor who told me that I did not need counseling and that I just needed to focus on my faith in God.  It was not until I was 19, well after beginning college, where I decided to actually pursue therapy.  I had many unstable friendships at college.  I was with my abusive ex-boyfriend.  My already unhealthy relationship with my parents became worse.  The tipping point was when I was in the car with my dad one day, and he tried to hit me. I jumped out of the car before he could do anything to me.  He drove off leaving me on the side of the rode in tears.  It was not long after that experience that I filled out the paperwork to start counseling.  I eventually got a therapist outside of the college campus.  After almost attempting suicide, I was hospitalized for a week at a psychiatric facility.  It was there where the psychiatrist inquired me about a condition called borderline personality disorder.

Here are the symptoms or signs of the disorder:

-Efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, such as rapidly initiating intimate (physical or emotional) relationships or cutting off communication with someone in anticipation of being abandoned

-A pattern of intense and unstable relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, often swinging from extreme closeness and love (idealization) to extreme dislike or anger (devaluation)

-Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self

-Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors, such as spending sprees, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating

-Self-harming behavior, such as cutting or burning

-Recurring thoughts of suicidal behaviors or threats

-Intense and highly changeable moods, with each episode lasting from a few hours to a few days

-Chronic feelings of emptiness

-Intense anger or problems controlling anger

-Difficulty trusting and possessing a fear of other people’s intentions

-Feelings of dissociation, such as feeling cut off from oneself or seeing oneself from outside one’s body

Not everyone with the disorder experiences all these symptoms. The symptoms also come in varying degrees.  No two people with the disorder is completely alike, although they tend to understand each other.  After I received the diagnosis, I felt that my life made a little more sense.  I began to understand myself better.  I have been in treatment for a long time and have made many improvements.  During this whole journey though, I learned something else, one of the reasons why I became so obsessed with Doctor Who.  I mean who doesn’t want to fly away from their boring lives to explore all throughout time and space with a mad man (or woman) with a box?  I have not seen the episodes with Jodie Whittaker so no spoilers! You may cause a paradox and destroy all of reality if you tell me anything.  It’s my future.  It was more than a form of escapism or a way of leaving my miserable life.  I realized that the Doctor’s character really resonates with me on a more personal level.  Now I am specifically referring to the New Who episodes.  I haven’t watched enough of Old Who to make adequate judgments of the character during those episodes.  The Doctor in New Who exemplifies many of the characteristics associated with borderline personality disorder.  I am no psychologist or psychiatrist, but for me, I feel like that this was one of the main reasons I fell in love with the Doctor.  He (or she) is the star of the show, the hero, the person everyone loves aside from say the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Slitheen, the Weeping Angels, the Zygons, the Silurians, and well, okay not everyone.  But in other shows, people with the disorder or exhibits multiple aspects of the disorder are usually portrayed as antagonists and creeps.  

The Doctor continuously goes out of his (or her) way to try and avoid losing people.  It causes him a lot of pain when he loses his closest friends.  Sometimes he will push his closest friends away, even for years at a time, because he’s afraid he’d never see them again. Sometimes he’d isolate himself from making new friends for fear of them falling apart.  We see this with the tenth Doctor at the end of his tenure.  He refused to take on new companions.  He was also reluctant to take on Martha as an official companion after losing Rose. But as you know, things did get “escalated.”  The eleventh Doctor set up Amy and Rory with a house on earth so he could come back to them whenever for hundreds of years because he knew that humans could not live near as long as him and he couldn’t bear to see his closest friends die.  He uploaded River Song as a computer program in the biggest library in the universe so he could always come back to her.  After losing Amy and Rory, he isolated himself from most of others except from a select few refusing to make other friends for fear of the inevitable loss.  Like Martha, he was reluctant at first to take on Clara as a companion.   On the whole though, the Doctor is fairly quick in choosing is companions, almost like Jesus choosing his disciples.  The Doctor becomes close pretty quickly and has people by his side while traveling in the TARDIS (time and relative dimension in space).  However, he is also quick to cut communication in order to “save” his friends or most often himself from impending grief.  He tricked Rose and Clara to have the TARDIS take them home while he faced a life or death scenario.  When Clara came back to the Doctor 300 years later in his future, he admitted that the reason he sent her away was because he would have buried her a long time ago.  It seemed to be more for his sake than hers.  She didn’t want to be sent home, and she was willing to face every danger he faced.  For those who struggle with BPD, the fear of loss and abandonment is quite prominent. Similarly, to the Doctor, I would frequently be quick to make very close friends.  I often idealized them and think they are basically perfect. “And she is perfect,” the Doctor says about Clara Oswald.  “You are the most important woman in the whole universe,” he says to Donna.  At the same time, I was also just as quick to push people away.  I’ve sometimes seemed to ghost people, hide things from them, push them away from my problems, refuse help when I desperately needed it.  I was too afraid I’d hurt them or overwhelm them to the point that I’d lose them.  I become a roller coaster ride to be friends with.  I constantly felt the need to protect people from myself and try to save myself from impending grief which hurts so bad that it makes me sick.  

Like the Doctor, I also felt persistent emptiness and loneliness. I felt like no one really understood me.  Even though I usually had close friends nearby, they also seemed temporary. Give another year and it will be a whole new group of friends.  I am very blessed that I’ve been able to maintain a strong relationship with my best friend for almost five years.  I’ve not had a romantic relationship last even a year.  Alongside the loneliness came emptiness.  For the most part, I felt like my life was pretty meaningless and boring.  I felt like I constantly had to be doing something in order to fill the gap.  The Doctor gets like this too.  When he stuck around in Amy and Rory’s home for a couple of days, he got anxious.  He rarely sticks around for tea after saving the day.  He has to constantly be doing something, or he just feels bored or pointless. This causes anxiety or depression. The tenth doctor, after trapping himself in the 18th century with Madame de Pompedour to save her from impending doom, looked sorrowfully into the night sky because of losing access to his TARDIS.  Like him, I usually can’t handle monotony.  I get anxiety and depression really fast.  

Impulsivity is another common trait between me and the Doctor. This can look different for each person who struggles with BPD.  Many do struggle with alcohol or drug addictions but not all.  I do not, but my impulsivity comes out in other ways.  It actually is similar to how the doctor is impulsive.  I am very quick to putting myself in compromising or dangerous situations. Personally, I cannot actually go into much detail on this issue for my safety and the safety of others around me. As a result of impulsive decisions I’ve made, I have gotten assaulted or raped.  Now these crimes are ultimately not my fault, and do not advocate victim blaming.  People should just have the common decency to know that those things are wrong. Unfortunately, that’s not the world we live in.  I was almost physically assaulted after outing myself as transgender.  I learned quickly the dangers of being trans in society. I’ve stretched myself thin for the sake of others without taking the time to analyze how much I can handle.  The Doctor is very similar in this regard.  Over and over, he’ll walk passed “keep out” signs.  For him, they are like “dry clean only.”  He’s one of those people who usually takes action before thinking.  Although sometimes we find out that he has actually put more thought into something than we, the audience, assumed he had.  Still, a lot of times the plan is to run towards the danger, see what happens, then come up with another plan.  When he hears a scream, he runs towards it.  When a sketchy guy is offering jobs at Hooverville in 1930, he was the first to volunteer.  Despite his intelligence and cleverness to get out of dangerous situations, he usually just as quick into them.  The results have even blown up the entire universe.  

Both the Doctor and I also seem to have struggled with a personal sense of identity.  This also can result in intense mood swings.  Sometimes I have feelings of euphoria, a heightened feeling of myself.  I can be the life of the party or on top of the world. I can become hypomanic (BPD and bipolar disorder often mimic each other).  Other times I am the complete opposite.  I think I’m the most awful, pitiful thing that creation gave birth to. I will self-harm or have suicide ideations.  I’m afraid that I am an abuser just like my parents, that I just hurt people, or that I constantly let other people down.  This sometimes spawns feelings of isolation.  Sometimes my emotions swing between extremes within a day.  The Doctor seems similarly to reflect these traits. For most of New Who, he is haunted about destroying Gallifrey in order to end the Time War.  Was he a genocidal maniac or a hero who ended a war that would have destroyed all of reality?  Is he any better than a Dalek who belongs to a race of ethnic cleansers.  Even after the 50th anniversary episode, the twelfth Doctor feels the need to ask Clara whether he is a good man. People with BPD tend to have a difficult time knowing themselves outside of how others perceive them.  They constantly rely on others to tell them how they are more than trying to take the time to analyze personal actions and intentions. We usually think our intentions are just excuses for the horrible things we’ve done.  The Doctor kept telling himself that he was trying to end the most deadly war in all of history when making the decision to eradicate his own species, but he wondered afterwards whether it was just an excuse to be the monster he truly was.  It wasn’t like he had a super friendly relationship with the Time Lords (although he was also half human first suggested in the 1996 movie and confirmed with the twelfth Doctor).  He constantly wrestled with the prospect that maybe he took on companions in order to use them rather than actually befriend them.  Davros visibly gets under the Doctor’s skin when he suggests that the Doctor takes “ordinary people and fashions them into weapons.”  We have the episode with the Dream Lord, a suggested personification of the negative aspects of his character.  There is a very dark portion of the Doctor which makes him such a complex character to fully understand.  Still, generally, we most often see him as a hero.  We are more gracious towards his decision to destroy Gallifrey to end the Time War than he is to himself.  I struggle to understand myself.  I generally have persistent feelings of shame that if the dark side of me comes out, then people will leave me.  It’s something I try to control.

Building off the last point, the Doctor is prone to anger quickly coming to that emotion.  “The fury of the Time Lord” is explored throughout the series.  It’s related to the question as to whether he is a good person or not.  This is one area I have seen significant improvements in.  It is okay to angry, but sometimes my anger was ineffective in achieving my goals.  I am not as quick to anger as I used to be.  I think a part of it is that I don’t live with my parents anymore.  I still have much room for improvements.

The Doctor’s fears of abandonment and loneliness has given away to trust issues.  Too many people have betrayed him.  We never learn his actual name throughout the series.  He doesn’t trust anyone with it.  He keeps a lot of himself a secret.  He will refrain from being vulnerable around others including his companions.  He’ll always say that he’s fine, that he is always fine.  This is the classic thing that someone battling mental illness says to cover up their emotions from others.  It is something that I have said in times of distress many times because I am afraid that people will judge me or betray me or leave me.  River Song tells him to trust her.  She whispers his real name in his ear to prove to him that she is worthy of trust.  Even then, he has his reservations.  When learning River was a prisoner for killing man and she doesn’t reveal who, he questions her and why future self would trust her.  There is always constant questioning of other people’s motives and intentions.  When Rose saves her dad’s life altering a fixed point in time, the Doctor is quick to accuse her of selfishness, that she only wanted onto the TARDIS to save her dad, that she was only using the Doctor.  Though Rose’s decision was impulsive and unwise to say the least, the audience isn’t as quick to accuse her of that.  We get the sense that she had a genuine care for the Doctor and actually wanted to travel in the TARDIS for the purpose of exploration.   As we millennials like to say, I feels.

Thoughts of suicide and self-harm or disassociation are not attributes that we can necessarily observe or be able to observe in the Doctor.  We do know that he does tend to view his life as less important as others.  He’s hinted that death may be a gift for someone who lives so long.  He is quick to sacrifice himself.  He gets angry at River when she tries to save him and tell him that the universe doesn’t want him to die.  He’s willing to neglect his life for the sake of others.  When he tried to destroy Gallifrey, he didn’t expect or want to live.  The ninth Doctor explained it wasn’t his choice.  The Doctor seems to be depressed that he didn’t die after ending the Time War, that his guilt is unbearable at times.  I don’t think I can delve much further on this particular aspect of his character to be honest.  

I have thought about this for a long time as you probably can tell.  I am still in love with the Doctor and it is one the view shows that I garner pleasure from when I am severely depressed.  It can distract me from my sometimes very intense and unbearable emotions. I believe this in large part due to how much I relate to the Doctor, that maybe I may not be an absolute monster.  Maybe, I’m not that bad of a person.  Maybe I’m someone that can be loved just like the Doctor. Maybe I am just as interesting and unique.  Maybe at times I can be the hero and not the villain that I always view myself to be. I continue to love the series and I can not wait to see Jodie Whittaker’s depiction of the character when I am able to get access to the episodes.  I am sad to say goodbye to Capaldi, but the story always continues. 

#bpd #doctor who #mental health #depression #anxiety #abandonment #love #tardis

[fanarchoslashivist]

Prompt! Post a peice of a WIP you started but never finished and probably never will.

Long ago Jackrabbit week, fusion day. Fusion was with Tin Man. Unlike other ideas this one will probably never leave the idea folder, and this is the only actual writing I've done for it. It became a monster during the planning stage and I was intimidated.

*

“He hoped you could fix him.”

The deep unfamiliar voice was the first thing Bunnymund heard as he entered the unusually quiet globe room, followed closely by the indignant protestations of the young woman in his immediate line of sight.

The workshop, normally loud and chaotic even through what passed for night in the arctic autumn, was disturbingly silent but for the conversation and the creak of metal from the ever spinning globe.

“Glitch doesn't need to be fixed!” the girl squawked in a voice that cracked between pitches like a preteen boy’s.

“No offense princess,” her companion, a dark figure in a hat with his back to Bunny, drawled, “but it's not your brain in a jar.”

“Bunny!” North rose from his seat at the sight of his friend. “Great timing my friend, we have unexpected guests it seems.”

Bunnymund adjusted the container of chocolates and sized up the two humans who turned to him. The girl, squat curly haired mess in a biker jacket, openly gawked but the man in the hat simply studied him with the same measuring eyes Bunny imagined were on his own face.

“That.. is one big rabbit.” The girl said bluntly and her companion rolled his eyes heavenward. 

“Pooka.” Bunny and the man in the hat said simultaneously. That earned the human another look, but North was there and blocking his view before he could ask.

“You have new chocolates. Good, good. We shall try them with refreshments yeti left. Come, you save me time to call you.” In a span of seconds North had herded Bunny towards the formal meeting table and fair shoved him into the booth. “Sit.”

Bunnymund glared at him, but wisely kept his mouth shut. If they were using the booth, and the workshop was cleared, it was something important. Either one of these two were someone, or from somewhere, that had North on the political defense. Santa didn’t hide his mystical toy making process for just anyone, show off that he was.

“Sooo.” the girl scooted down the booth until she was directly opposite him, with her companion perched on the edge. She folded her hands, fingers laced, in front of her and regarded him with wide eyes. “If he’s Santa, does that make you the Easter Bunny?” 

She said it with a little lift to the corner of her mouth, as if making some joke, Bunny had heard the remark before from non believers they’d had to drag in on the occasion. 

“At your service.” he said blandly, and watched her pale complexion flush and her altogether too large eyes dart away. 

“Oh.” She hummed, “that makes sense then.” She chewed on her lip as North brought mugs of cocoa piled high with whipped cream and plates of his new chocolates. “So, are there any other children stories I’m going to walk through or is this it, because honestly? I’m not really up to the whole extended universe thing. I was fine with just the one adventure.”

“Kid.” Her companion took his hat off and smooshed it onto her head, almost smashing her face into the cream along with it. “Shut up.”

She sat up, white cream on her pert button nose, and glared at him. “You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m a princess now remember? It's like a rule.”

“Like the rule against running away from home and riding storms across the desert to strange worlds. Sure thing your majesty, you’re all about those rules.”

“It's not strange to me. I grew UP here, remember?”

Bunny leaned back, amused. “Yer from the Outer Zone.”

The girl, princess, pursed her lips and tucked her head into her shoulders. “Maybe.”

“Sheila, ain't nobody outside the O.Z. ride storms.” He crossed his arms and side eyed North, who was humming as he sipped his chocolate. The O.Z. had been locked down for years, since the Witch had been freed. Sandy made sure of it. “What brings you to the Pole?” 

“Our friend Gl- Ah, Ambrose is missing.” The princess said, “He was on his way here when… he got lost.”

Ambrose, Bunny knew the man. Lanky pale man with a barely contained head of curls and a mind like a cosmic storm. He’d enjoyed many conversations with the brilliant advisor to the queen while visiting the Outer Zone. If he had gone missing then the situation on Oz must have taken a turn for the worst. Still.

“Sorry your grace,” Bunny’s voice was sympathetic, but firm, “Oz has laws against our interference, we’re not allowed in except on our holidays, and since the Witch was loosed we’ve been forced to shut it down. I’m sure ye noticed the Dream Sand.”

“How could you say that?” the princess demanded, “how can you just… LEAVE people to suffer like that.”

“Was not our decision.” North spoke up, and they exchanged frustrated looks. “We obey their laws or we aren’t welcome. Your mother,” North indicated the girl, “I assume the Queen, was firm on that law ten years ago when we offered.”

“So you just.. Just close us up in a wall of deadly sand?”

“Not deadly, just.. They just sleep. It wasn’t our first choice,” Bunny explained. “But we couldn’t let the Witch escape. There are forces, very old and very dangerous, that could do far greater damage than the Witch if they joined her.” The last of the fearlings had been sealed away all over the world, the Witch was only one of them. If she had loosed them all… Pitch would be more than just a bad dream. “If we couldn’t fix the problem, we had to contain it.”

“The Witch is dead.” Cain spoke up, face serious. “So the conversation is pointless. We’re not here for that.”

“Cain!” the princess objected, softer but just as fierce. “All the damage, everything. Cain, your family.”

“I know the laws D.G.” he turned to her, just as severe, “I didn’t agree with them, but I knew them. Your mom told them to go, they went. Not their fault.”

It was hard, Bunny knew, for the young to feel the weight of their parent’s mistakes. It had taken a great effort for Bunnymund to swallow his pride hundreds of years ago and let the Guardians share in his authority. There was a fear of loss of control, of usurpation, of being annexed into a greater power structure and finding everything you cared about, the lines you drew, the morals you held to only a small voice in a conversation. 

It was a hard thing, separating your own pride from leadership. The Queen had chosen pride, and belief in her own power. 

He had hoped she hadn’t chosen wrong.

“I’m glad to hear the Witch is no more.” North broke the tension, refilling their drinks though little of it was touched. D.G. took her cup and drank deeply, getting cream on her lip and nose. She wiped it off with the back of her sleeve, and by her sniff probably a few tears as well.

“So, what is the problem then? Why would Ambrose go missing?” Bunny asked once she’d settled.

“He was on his way here, to the Laughing Valley, to let you know we’d defeated the Sorceress. And…” She looked at Cain, who seemed intent on letting her speak. “He wanted help with… and injury.”

Bunny tensed. An injury from the Witch that needed the Guardians could only be one thing.

Infection.

“She took his brain.” D.G. burst out, eyes burning with tears. “She tortured him and when he didn’t help her she just, she took it, and she put it in a machine, and she used it to do terrible things.” 

“Hey, hey there sheila.” Bunny reached across for her hand and Cain had her other in an instant.

Children weren’t meant for wartime, Bunny thought, yet they were always the first victims. That same impotent fury he had felt when he had stood in her mother’s castle and been told to leave surged forward. This was the cost of isolationism, this was Oz’s most common affliction.

He met Cain’s eyes, stress lined and full of misery and pain, the man hadn’t wanted this, but it had been necessary. “He was headed to here,” Cain spoke up now, “because there was no one else could put him back together. He kept saying he had to catch the train. ‘Catch the train at Hohaho.’ We didn’t understand him at first..."

#you're all stupid this is stupid stop being stupid #i don't even have my notes anymore #i dropped the wip because OZ books had like serious lore #that was getting to be too much stress at the time #Jack was king of Overland after conquering upperland and lowerland though #the guardians left OZ after the queen ordered it but Jack stayed behind #jack and bunny post breakup fic basically #feels and pinning #also cain/glitch like whoa #parallels drawn and D.G. is like #my fic

[amidalogicdive]

The Misadventures of a Prince and His Glaive

Rating: Not Rated Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationship: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Nyx Ulric Additional Tags: Microfic, Prompt Fic, NyxNoct Monthly Challenge, Stupidity, HurtHurt/Comfort, Lovers, Established Relationship, Misadventures, Bad Luck, Betrayal, Halloween, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hung Over, Drinking, Hangover, Road Trips, Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Devotion, Acceptance

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11766387/chapters/30865659

Chapter 8: Nightmares

Summary: Noctis has always suffered in silence when it came to his nightmares, Nyx is determined to make that end.

-

He woke suddenly, and all at once. Eyes like obsidian catching the play of lights across the ceiling of his apartment from the city below. Noctis could hear his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the noises from outside his window. His breath coming in quick, quiet gasps as he laid paralyzed on his bed. It had only been a dream, no, a nightmare that had wrenched him from his sleep. Something that he’d become used to at this point, that had plagued him for over ten years and had stolen many nights of rest from him.

Everything had started with the Marilith attack, a snake daemon that had stolen many lives and had left him wheelchair-bound for close to a year. The attempt on the Lucis Caelum line by the Empire a few months later had only added to the trauma. One that he hadn’t been able to put behind him, no matter how hard he’d tried. It remained there, ever present, in the shadows of the night.

The warmth of another’s body pulled Noctis from his thoughts. Arms tightening around his waist as his lover pulled him closer, compelling the prince to look over at the glaive in his bed. It was rare he suffered such troubling dreams when Nyx laid beside him and was thankful that his restlessness hadn’t woken the man. Yet, despite the warmth, Noctis could feel the effects of the nightmare in the way his body remained on edge. When he found he couldn’t fall back asleep; the prince placed a tender kiss on his boyfriend’s lips and worked his way out of the man’s hold. Blindly, he grabbed a shirt off the floor and pulled it over his naked form with a shiver. Then, grabbing a small figurine from his bedside table, he walked out into the living room and closed the door.

This was common enough, the night terrors that drove him from his bed and the sleep he needed. Noctis still remembered the day Carbuncle had come to him, chasing off the daemons that crept into his dreams. Fighting them and guiding him to the light of dawn and the safety of a new day. Still, all these years later, they still lurked in the recesses of his memories. Even now the God of Dreams would come, sheltering him from the worst… but at times it wasn’t enough. Nyx wasn’t enough.

He despised sleeping alone because of the dreams, the stress… a kingdom, a crown, and a ring. It was suffocating, and the reality of it was far too real. But that was how he’d spent most of his twenty years, alone. The only thing that changed over the years was his surroundings; from a vast, empty bedroom to a vast, empty apartment. He would often wake up, cries of fear escaping his lips and as much as he’d wanted to run to his father, he hadn’t. At times he’d wished they could have been a father and son, but Noctis knew he was a busy man. To wake a King, when he knew that his father got far less sleep than he did, it seemed such a selfish thing to do. He’d had Ignis as well, but again, he hadn’t wished to look weak in the eyes of others.

So Noctis chose to keep his fears to himself. Become his own comfort and learn to calm himself - because he couldn’t depend on someone else to do it.

That was until Nyx had come into his life, wild and free. Yet, he’d become a calming presence; like the steady flow of a river, the glaive had worn down his jagged edges. The heat of Nyx body, soothing him and reminding him that he wasn’t alone, not anymore. Showing the prince that he could depend on someone else without facing ridicule. Still, when the dreams came Noctis continued to suffer in silence. Nyx needed his rest more than Noctis needed coddling.

After all, he was the one inconveniencing the glaive, spending so much time with him. Pulling him from his duties, interrupting his days off by insisting he come over. Invading the man’s modest apartment down in the refugee districts… the last thing Noctis wished to be, was a distraction. Someone who became a hindrance to those around him, who forced those he loved to suffer for his own sake.

What good could he do for his people as King? How could he have a care for others, if he couldn’t care for himself?

-

Nyx awoke to a cold and empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He couldn’t count the times he’d found his lover curled up in a chair, or sitting alone on his couch. Per normal, Nyx sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, gathering his thoughts as he let out a deep breath. Then, pushing back the blankets, he rose from the bed. Finding the boxer briefs he’d taken off hours before, Nyx tugged them back on and ran a hand through his hair while heading out into the living room. Glancing around, Nyx noted that his young lover wasn’t there, but knew that Noctis hadn’t fled the apartment.

He made his way across the living room and pulled the balcony door open, pale eyes observing movement farther down within the shadows. Stepping out, Nyx noted the chill in the air, yet stood there silently and observed the prince for a moment. Noctis sat curled up on a chair, his exposed legs pulled to his chest. In his hand he held a carved figure of Carbuncle, Nyx remembered that the prince’s father had given it to him when he was young. According to Noctis, the small God had come visiting him many times. A constant companion, sheltering him from the terrors of his mind. Now, his lover sat there, pale fingers running over the curves and edges of the tiny wooden idol. Dark eyes were distant, locked on the lights of the Citadel that lay a few blocks from his residence.

Nyx was content to watch Noctis for the moment. Admiring how the moonlight made his pale skin glow in the darkness. Watching the stars and the magic of his blood that seemed to reflect in his dark eyes. They swirled like the dark ocean waters, ever changing with the tide. Noctis was beautiful, and the glaive still didn’t comprehend how he’d been so lucky to end up with him. Seeing the man shiver, Nyx forged his way down the balcony to stand beside him. “Don’t you think you’re a bit underdressed for this weather?”

“Mm,” Noctis sighed, pulled from his thoughts as his eyes darting to the side for an instant. “I’m sorry Nyx. I never meant waking you. I just,”

“You just couldn’t sleep?” It was common enough that Noctis didn’t have to explain his actions. “I know.” Occupying the seat next to him, Nyx patted his lap. The prince seemed to consider the offer for a moment, rolling his eyes as he moved to sit on the glaives leg. Resting his chin on his lover's shoulder, Nyx nuzzled the pale column as he wrapped his arms around Noct's waist. “Your skin is like ice.”

“I didn’t notice.” And he hadn’t having been lost in his own thoughts.

“You shouldn’t have come out here in just a shirt. Better yet, you should have woken me up if you were having issues sleeping, little prince.” There was a pause in his words, feeling Noctis relax against him.

“I know, you’ve said that before.” His words were whispered, eyes falling on the small figurine once again. “You always say that, Nyx.”

“I always mean it. You’re a clever man so I would have thought you’d have gotten the point by now.”

Noctis nodded, but he couldn’t stop the frown that pulled at his lips. “I appreciate what you’re urging me to do, Nyx. I… I just wish you didn’t ask it of me. I’m no more important than you are, and my issues, they shouldn’t affect your duties.” His fingers tightened around the little idol, looking back up at Nyx. “I will be King, and you can’t expect me to come running every time I can’t sleep.”

Nyx ran a hand through dark locks, seeing how easily the other fell into his touch. He knew that Noctis couldn’t help it. Despite his words, the two had become quite codependent. “Not every time, just most of the time.”

That made the prince laugh, his forehead bumping lightly against the glaives own. “Why do you do this to me?” He asked, “Why do you make me need you so fucking much?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” Rubbing the tip of his nose against his partners, Nyx smiled. “I like having you around, love. If you need me, it’s only because I need you just as much.”

“I’m a distraction.”

“Yes, in many ways. Got a nice ass too.”

“Nyx, I’m being serious!”

“So was I.” He replied with a smirk.

Ignoring the comment, Noctis looked back down at the Carbuncle figure. “The nightmares I endure, they aren’t… it’s almost like they are real. I know I panic and don't sleep well, so the last thing I want is constantly having to wake you up at night.” He bit his lip, worrying the bottom one for a moment. “Maybe I’m more trouble than I’m worth…”

“I think you’re worth the trouble.” Tightening his hold on the smaller man, he rose and lifted Noctis into his arms. A startled whimper left Noctis, instantly wrapping his arms around the glaives neck as he carried him back into the living room. “I want you to trouble me; I’m your boyfriend for a reason, little prince. So wake me up if you need too, talk to me. Let me help you chase away the bad dreams. I have so little to give you outside of myself, so I want to be there for you.”

“Are you sure? Won’t it, I mean won’t I…”

“Noctis, stop.” The prince blinked, meeting Nyx eyes. “Listen to me. I love you, everything about you. If some bad dreams are part of that, then I accept it. Stop trying to wage every battle on your own, let me help you. I want to support you, understand?” He nodded. “You are not and never will be a bother.”

Tears filled his eyes as Noctis looked down. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good, now you left me alone and I’m cold.” He smirked, carrying the prince into the bedroom where he deposited him onto the bed. “I expect you to make it up to me. So, how about you and I find a way to warm back up again?”

Setting the small figurine on the bedside table, Noctis tugged his lover down to lay on top of him. Having finally found what he’d been missing all his life, Noctis refused to let it go. Nyx was his, and he belonged to the glaive. Forever.

“I think I can manage that.”

#nyxnoct #nyx ulric #Noctis Lucis Caelum #logicdive rambles #ffxv fic #ffxv fanfic #ffxv fanfiction #carbuncle #ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fic #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfic #The Misadventures of a Prince and his Glaive

[hollowphobia-casual]

MY AMAZING FRIENDS Part Seven. the revenge of the Prequel to the sequel

So anyone new to this, hi, this is a massive list where I tell everyone about how great my friends are, why I love them and just how much they mean to me! It’s shrunk and grown over the years as friends have gone away or I’ve gained new ones, but it doesn’t change the most important things, these are the people I want in my life more than anything. SO, normally I’d post this list around December Christmas, cause, it’s meant to be a treat, a Christmas treat, as I can never get out presents to everyone and I felt it meant something important, well Christmas has come early, why? Cause life is hard right now, people are scared, things are getting tougher and it’s just so frustrating seeing all the people I care about disheartened and worried, I want to do something important for them, so I’ve decided to post the list early, for the people, who need it the most.

@mistercrowbar

BEHOLD probably one of the most important people in my life right and I don’t mean that lightly, Crowbar has been everything to me, a friend, a teacher, a companion, a voice of reason and even a critic, she’s taught me so much about art, myself and even the universe we currently inhabit, seriously this woman is a wealth of knowledge you would not believe. But more importantly, she is my friend and I care so much about this girl, I want nothing more than her absolute happiness, if I could give up everything just to see her smile, I would, she’s been in such dark places and battles them everyday, I’d do anything to stop that from ever happening to her again. she has done so much for me, hell she became a friend to me when I was a nobody and I still am, she encourages me to do better, to push and challenge myself every day, I owe her so much, I care for her so much. Please do yourself a favor, check out her amazing artwork and get to know this beautiful person.

@nightmargin

MY GUUUUUUURL, Holy fluffy apples infested with Caterpillar demons, when I first met this girl, she was awesome, as we talked, she was more awesome, her ideas, her imagination, if she didn’t go somewhere, I’d imagine the world would implode for making a mistake, AND NOW MY GURL MADE A GAME AND IS ACTUALLY BEING PLAYED AND ENJOYED LIKE IT’S THE NEXT UNDERTALE! For better or for worse. I always believed in her, I can’t ever recall a time where her art style a beautiful mixture of darkness and whimsy has ever disappointing me, I’m so proud of her right now, i wish her nothing but the best going forward and if you’ve not bought her game Oneshot, WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

@articbleu

Oh hey is this one of the greatest people ever, why yes it is! Artic’s determination and drive is, MIND BLOWING, I always feel like I’m trying to catch up to her, but in a good way, I’ve also never met someone who agrees with me so much, from video games, story structure and politics, it’s actually a tiny bit creepy. BUT IT A GOOD WAY. When I first met this amazing blazing comet of a woman, she was drawing rose themed anime girls for Original character tournaments, now she has her own store, plans on making a comic and has been in several zines, like, WHAT and, and the best part, SHE AIN’T SLOWIN DOWN. She is such a kind and thoughtful person, fueling with the fires of determination and passion, there is something inside Artic that could fuel the planet. Go check out her art blog, Go check out her store, IMPROVE YOUR LIFE.

@tuz-ohtopia

Have you ever met someone who you graverly underestimated and regretted, I SURE HAVE, I’ll openly admit when I first met Tuz back in the days of Deviant art, I didn’t think much of him, CAUSE I WAS A FOOL. His story chops, his character designs and his overall whit and personality is probably some of the best things you’ll ever run into, if you ever get the chance ask him about his amazing DnD campaign that he runs with some of my other fave nerds, the plans he has are stellar, I just wish I’d gotten to know him better. This guy is pure gold.

@knifetotheback

the moment when you’ve refereed to someone by their nickname so much that just becomes their name, meet Smudge, I met smudge somewhere most people regret to meet their friends, IN A ROLEPLAY GROUP, and at the time I didn’t really know smudge that much, we’d chatted by not a lot, not until I have the pleasure of having them as a player in my DnD game, and while they did grind on others nervous, I am surprised to find someone who put so much effort and emotion into something they cared about. Smudge is a person who is open to criticism and willing to sit down and talk about problems, a rarity in many things, but also very enthusiastic and supportive of peoples decisions, I’ve not had the pleasure of talking to smudge much due to their work. But I do miss them, very much so.

@sunshinedrago

have you ever met someone who screamed excitement, I don’t mean figuratively, I think my ears have actually ruptured thanks to this wonderful human, I’M SENDING YOU THE BILL. This beautiful person, whose actual name I can’t ever type correctly..., is so full of energy and wonder, she is a delight to have in my DnD games just because of the drive she brings, even if it does get the better of her at times. They are also some who actually gets some of my strange interests, such as slice of life anime and cute shit with no shame, it’s beautiful. But more importantly they are a person, a real down to earth person who actually understands people, it’s a rare thing to see and must be treasured, like the dragon she wishes she could be.

@GrittySugar

LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL MOTHAR FUKAR, when I first met this wonderful person she was a funny silly girl who did fun silly, DARK, comics, it was amazing, (Hellen X Ralph OTP), but NONE of us, were prepared with all the stuff she has done recently, the animations, the videos it’s also just so! I am so happy and proud for her, this is a person whom I competed against at one time and got to talk about silly things with and now look at her, look how far she has come and she’s still going. If you haven’t go to her youtube channel, check out her shit, DO YOURSELF A SOLID.

@roseillustrates

Speaking of beautiful people, here is someone I’ve sadly neglected, she is a beautiful friend whom will also be Bubby to me, her art is dark, twisted and fucking amazing! And she herself is also amazing. Some whom I miss dearly and wish I held onto so much tighter, cause I barely get to see them much, their head is swimming with such, amazing potential and stories, like, my god, please, I beg you, do your self a service and check them out!

@ssksscrapboard

BROOOOOOOOOO, I have missed you! but it’s nice to see you’ve been keeping busy, like seriously people if you are looking for fun expressive art that captures personality and humor check this guy out, he has a really addictive style that is fun to look at, with well designed characters, all detailed and simplistic, it’s so fun, he himself is a great guy, probably one of the friendliest guys I know, easy to talk to and always encourages. Please check him out, look at his art, enjoy his humor, all that fun stuff.

@spesiria

Well, well, well, if it isn’t the person whom adore the most, or at least one of them, god I miss you, your activity is either lost in the sea of 639 people I follow on tumblr, or simply you’ve just disappeared. I really wish I had the chance to talk to you more often as you are such a lovely and interesting person, you are the best, I miss you.

@thelovelyghosty

I met this lovely loveable through a friend of mine and I’ve not regretted it, she might have, but not me. She’s fantastic and very smart, probably WAY too hard on herself and probably puts more effort into her writing than I have ever done, I love the time I spend with her, she always make me smile. I hope to spend more time over the following years getting to know her and hopefully making her smile.

@hunnylou0

When I first started out on Devinatart Lou was one of the first ‘big’ artists whom I had the privilege to get to know, it was so weird at the time and to think that I’ve manged to continue following someone whose been such a big influence to me all this time really means something, I know I’ve sadly not been the best of friends, but I have been trying to keep in contact and I hope nothing for the best for this person, she’s such an interesting and fun individual, I hope I get the chance to meet them in person and thank them, please check out her stuff, commission her if you can.

@nickala

Sometimes you need someone who knows what your thinking to make life a little easier, this is my person! Nicky is an amazing girl, she has a great sense of humor, a level head and has a job at cutting up guts and gore, best, person EVAH. Also! Also! She has some dope ass art that will just blow you away with it’s creativity and design work, her colour it’s all just, FWAH! Not to mention with the top included, she’s a person whose helped me realise I’m not.., a freak, to be quite honest, for the longest time I knew there were others out there like me, but I never, connected with them, I felt that I was always on a different wave length that life was just, impossible to understand, then I sat and talk with Nicki and she has helped me so much with stupid brain things and I could never thank her enough, for listening to my insane ramblings and just being a great friend.

@valbey

MAN WHAT AN ASSHOLE, okay, okay not ‘completely’ true, this dude has been with me since my days in college and even went on to be my roommate, for better or worse and despite how we can sometimes get on each other nerves, he still tries to understand and respects my opinion, sometimes, dick, But he is probably one of the most level headed and thoughtful people you’ll ever know, who is also doing commissions, please check him out and call him a dick from me.

@doodlediddydaisy

Do you know many people whom you could say ‘If it wasn’t for them, I don’t know if I’d still be here today?’ Well meet the godsend here, in the literal sense, she saved me during a very dark moment in my life, where I was depressed, unmotivated and scared about the future so much, I was an emotional wreck and she manged to help me, I owe my life to her! And now she’s happily married and I don’t get to speak to her much -cries-, but I’m not gonna be down, why? CAUSE SHE’S HAPPILY MARRIED’, that doesn’t happen a lot to people, so I’m so glad it’s happening to her, and I know she has been through a rough patch this year, but I’m sure she can pull through, she is a strong person.

@funktrash

MY GIRL HAS HER OWN FUCKING COMIC YOU SHOULD GO CHECK IT THE FUCK OUT, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR! Okay so I knew Hyper all the way back in my early days of creating mary sues and weeb art on DA, back then I wasn’t the best of guys, but I was amazed that someone could find my art.., inspiring, it was so..., INSPIRING! And I hope I leave or left some impact, even if I don’t deserve it, I’ve come to admit my faults and I don’t want to forget them, so I’m gonna do something good for this person who deserves nothing but the best. CHECK OUT HER FUCKING COMIC! No seriously, do it, it started out as an idea, that became a DA group and now it’s own work, if you followed her on DA do it, it’s so amazing to see these characters that you saw from her early days and see how far they’ve come! so, I’m just gonna grab the link and you better be clicking on it! [Link to Comic]

@clauseart

HOLY FLYING CRAB APPLES, MY GURL HAS HER OWN COMIC AND IT’S JUST SO, MMM, MMMMMMNG GOOD. When I first met her she did comics about a crazy girl with an over side pinwheel and I loved her for it, found out she was English and loved her even more, Now she’s writing a modern fantasy story where the real world and the magic community co-exist together, while a buff ginger haired lady punches the undead and has to baby sit a brat, CHECK IT OOOOUT, I want her to succeed so much, she is worth it, here is a link, if you haven’t checked it out, I’ll know. [Comic Link]

@velkro-bitch

I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR LETTING ME MISGENDERING YOU!, wait is it misgendering if they don’t apply to one gender or the other? Either wait, I love this person, they were the voice of reason in my DND group and continue to be a person who’ll always make me laugh and miss so much, they’ve gone off to live a successful and hardworking life and I could not be more proud of them, but it doesn’t hurt that I still them so much!

@a-trashcan-in-a-corner

You and your fucking sibling, I love this girl so much, funny, kind, compassionate and a no shit taker, they are a great source of joy and sadness, cause very much like their sibling, life took over and they had to leave my DND, I try to keep in contact, but as anyone who knows me, knows I’m terrible at that, but if you ever just want to talk to some this is someone whom is the best at doing that and is very good at playing sexy buff shy dudes.

@flunafloon

I WUB MY HEAD, and I’m a terrible friend again this year, I’ve not been as active and as friendly as I would like to be, MAYBE IF SOMEONE WAS ACTIVE ONLINE MORE AND DIDN’T HIDE, HMMM! but I seriously do miss you, I hope you are doing well and everything is going well for you, please take care of yourself.

@mercuziades

I love gothic art, I love this girl and I love her art! Sadly I’ve not seen much of her work of late, as sadly much with many friends I’ve come to know life has gotten in the way, but I’m always hopeful to speak to her more, when my life isn’t getting in the way, but to any and all out there, check out her work, if you love the Gothic esthetic and do mean romantic Gothic, the true Gothic, got do it. NOW!

@riyamilea

So, I’ve followed this person for sometime and I’ve only gotten to know them recently, which is strange, cause I’ve been following them since the rise OCT, and for anyone who still remembers the rise OCT, don’t you feel old now, HUH! But seriously, she has such an amazing body of art work, her designs are outstanding, her skill with anatomy and detail is breath taking and she’s so fun to talk to! She’s level headed, smart and never argues her opinion, she acknowledges other peoples points either adding to them or deconstructing them, talking to this person is a breath of fresh air. And I really hope I get to know them more.

@seriousmealtime

HERE’S SOMEONE WHO MAKES ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE, in a good way, I only met Sam briefly last year and thanks to some close friends we’ve been talking a lot more and what I love/hate about this person is they are always lavishing me in praise. IDON’TTAKECOMPLIMENTSWELL,LETMEFEELUSELESS! Sam is great and I love them to bits, their crude enough to get my stupid sense of humor, but kind enough to sympathies with, sadly Sam is dweeb and doesn’t upload any of their amazing art so I can sell it to you, but it’s amazing and if they ever do decided to get off their butt and actually show it, I’d highly recommended them.

@ioanaartblog

I remember meeting this girl after attempting to join a deviantart Roleplay group that went, nowhere and after talking for a bit and introducing them to Critical Role, we started a DnD group, that has lasted for about two years now. It is my first and longest DnD session that has taken up so much of time and energy as a creator and it all started with her, if it was for Ioana I wouldn’t have such wonderful memories as well as a burning desire to improve on what I have done, I’m so exictied each session to challenge my players and watch their reactions with what I have planned. It has meant to so much to be and it of never been possible if it wasn’t for Ioana, likewise, Ioana has gotten herself noticed in many ways, after watching Critical role she became inspired and now she has some of her artwork up for sale in the their official store, not joking, here is the link, [Shop Link] And now she is currently at university studying art and improve her skills, despite anyone else who’d of called it quits and ridden he coat tales of their first success, I’m proud to see her chase her ambitions.

@phantomdotexe

Sometimes it really helps to have someone to talk with, cause not everyone wants to hear EVERYTHING about yourself and we are flawed deep down, it’s what makes life so interesting, no one is the messiah. So I’m really happy I met her, she’s smart, funny and more importantly she allows me to be more open than I have ever been with some other people and she is very supportive, if not a bit nagging ‘why aren’t you in bed’ SORRY YOU GET ON SO LATE!, hehe but if you ever into anything, risque, I suggest taking out her library of work, she’s a writer you see and while her taste lends to the mature, it doesn’t stop it from being an engaging series of work, please check it out if you are into rope and gags, also send her a hi and let her know how amazing she is.

@dansome0203

Mother fucker, let me love you! This guy, besides me being envious of this skill to draw such beautifully curvaceous women, he is just such a nice guy, like, stupidly nice, He’s probably an alien, hmm. I’ve sadly not had the time to talk to him much STILL! God I feel like those assholes who refuse to talk their fav artist then whine about it on their art blog!...wait. But this guy, he just continues to surprise me, found out he’s not just a nice guy and an amazing artist, but he also runs a very good DND session! The stuff I have seen pour out of it has made me so excited if this guy ever plans to do some writing in his own free time.

@totalobelisk

A friend of mine for the longest time, who I’ve sadly not stayed in contact much with, cause I am a terrible human being. That said he’s incredibly bright and funny as well as creative, I’ve never met a guy who just doesn’t give up, he’s driven and determined, willing to do what he enjoys more than anything! I wish I had some of that drive, his work might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but hey, in the end, it matters if it makes him happy and he being happy makes me happy.

#Friends #The yearly list #2017 #Those who are important to me

[chasingthecosmos]

By Any Other Name

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Eleventh Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 1/26 Read on AO3 here.

"Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that's what was happening ..." A Season 7 AU where Rose returns to her home universe only to find that 100 years have passed and nothing is quite the way that she remembers it. She wakes up with a new body, a new life, and a new Doctor. What has the Bad Wolf gotten her into this time? Rating may go up as the story continues

Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that's what was happening. She had never actually died before, but she still had a lingering suspicion that it wasn't supposed to be quite like this.

It had all started with dreams - dreams of her old life, back in the original universe that she had been born in. She had only had dreams like these twice before in her long life - once when she had originally been trapped here in a universe where giant floating zeppelins constantly littered the skies over London, and once again when the stars began going out and Torchwood had called her in for a special project.

Both times, he had been there, haunting her sleeping hours like a ghost. He was always calling for her, but he always seemed to be just out of her reach. She thought that the dreams would be gone for good when she was dropped off in Norway (again) with his half-human double and had consigned herself to a life of following the slow path.

After that, Rose had gone on for nearly seven decades without another single strange dream haunting her in the night. In fact, she had had a long, happy, normal life - well, as normal as a life with him could ever be. It was a life that she never could have imagined herself having, but it was a life that she cherished nonetheless.

She was used to dreaming about him, though - so when the strange dreams finally began to return, Rose tried very hard to convince herself that it was simply grief that was fueling her nightly visions. She had only just lost him earlier that year, after all. And oh, she absolutely hated that phrase - "lost him", as though she had simply let him slip through her fingers and he could still be out there, somewhere, wandering around, if only she could find him again - but she still couldn't quite bring herself to say the "d" word, so "lost" would have to do.

It was his heart that took him in the end - and the mundanity of it all still made her sick to this day. She supposed that he wouldn't have minded, though - he had always been quite fascinated by his single, human heart. Even when he had known that it was his simply humanity that was going to kill him, he hadn't been upset or afraid - he had gone in peace.

So when the dreams started up again soon after that, Rose told herself that it was all just a part of the mourning process. That was normal, right? But she had lost so many during her long, long life - her father (twice), her mother, and more friends than she could count - but none of that had ever brought on such strange dreams.

They started just the way that she remembered from last time - a voice calling her, beckoning her forward and leading her towards ... something. This time, though, the voice wasn't his - for, at least, it wasn't just him. It was a strange, singing voice that seemed to contain everything in all of time and space with it. There was also a bright, golden light accompanying it - that was new.

After a few nights of her trying to shake the voice off and ignore it, it only became more insistent. In fact, it began to form a face and a shape that was familiar and strange, comforting and terrifying all at once.

"Rose, it's time."

But Rose always vehemently denied it - always pulling back and trying to fight against the current of the voice, the light, the song.

"Come home."

After another week of this, the face that spoke to her became more solid - forming the outline of a young girl with blonde hair and golden eyes. She had a gaze that seemed to look right through Rose's skin and peer into her soul.

"Are you afraid of the big Bad Wolf?" The strange woman had a smile that was like a snarl.

Rose hadn't heard those words in years, and in the dream she always scrambled to try and remember what they meant. The only thing that she knew for certain was that the words were somehow a solid tether to the Doctor - a link that she could follow through all of time and space that would always lead her back to him. For the first time since the dreams had started, Rose finally stopped trying to fight them off so hard. She surmised that if these few spoken words were somehow connected to the one man in the entire universe who she most wanted to see, then maybe this strange woman and her glowing aura were simply another beacon, ushering her back to him once more.

After that, the woman's face began to change. Her long golden hair darkened, as did her sparkling yellow eyes.

"Are you ready to go, now?" she asked one night, reaching her hand towards Rose in a calm, beckoning gesture.

Rose's heart beat once, very hard, as everything in her cried out for answers and urged her forward. Still, she hesitated as she brought her hand up and prepared to touch the strange, otherworldly woman.

In her dreams, Rose's hands weren't aged and wrinkled as they were in real life, but as she stepped closer to the glowing creature, the light shining off of her seemed to seep into Rose's own sin, infusing her with a youthful, ephemeral glow.

"He's waiting," the woman reminded her patiently.

And that's all that she really needed to hear - because if the Doctor was somewhere out there looking for her, then Rose Tyler had no choice but to answer his call. She locked her jaw and forced herself to stare directly into the woman's haunting, golden gaze as she stepped forward and finally felt her fingers connect with the shining light.

"Just remember ... you can't make souffles without eggs."

Before Rose could ask what that odd bit of advice could possibly mean, the eerie melody echoing in Rose's ears took on a strange, familiar rhythm, and she woke up to the sounds of "Habanera" from Carmen ringing in her ears.

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

After that, Rose's dream took on a strange sense of realism - it was so real, in fact, that she began to question what the lady in gold had actually done to her.

In the dream, she was a different person entirely - though she didn't quite know how she knew that (there weren't exactly mirrors lying around in the underground bunker she suddenly found herself in). Dream logic seemed to fill in the gaps, though, and when she was asked, she succinctly informed her companion that she was Oswin Oswald, junior entertainment manager for Starship Alaska.

The man who had done the asking called himself the Doctor. The name rang in her head like a memory - or, perhaps it was more like an alarm - but Rose couldn't quite place where she had heard it before. She certainly didn't recognize his face - she was positive that she wouldn't ever be able to forget a chin like that.

There was a young couple with him, too - a tall, skinny Scottish girl called Amy and a man with quite the remarkable nose who they called Rory.

The whole adventure reminded Rose of her old days of traveling around in the TARDIS, but in the dream she couldn't seem to remember her past with any sort of specificity. It was simply as though she felt a strange, reminiscent ache for days gone by as she - as Oswin - helped the Doctor and his friends navigate through a dalek asylum.

The odd dream turned into a nightmare when it turned out that she wasn't a junior entertainment manager at all - but rather a living mind trapped inside the shell of one of the most feared and hated creatures in all of existence.

It all went quite mad after that, but Rose made sure that the Doctor and his companions made it out alive, even if she didn't. She couldn't quite explain why the urge to save them was so overwhelmingly important, but it didn't really matter. She only knew that the daleks needed to be defeated, and the Doctor needed to live to fight them another day.

The dream ended in a burst of fire and heat, which then dissipated back into that now-familiar glowing, gold light. When she opened her eyes again, Rose was staring into the face of the woman who she now somehow knew was the Oswin girl, though her normally brown eyes were golden as she smiled up at Rose.

"Did you enjoy seeing him again?" she asked, her voice somehow patient and teasing all at the same time.

"Why are you doing this?" Rose demanded angrily. "Why can't you just leave me alone, to die in peace?"

"Because you're not dying," the woman replied evenly. "Think of it simply as ... the next step in your journey."

"What are you talking about?" Rose asked wearily.

"Don't you remember?" the Oswin-looking girl asked, tilting her head at Rose as though she were a wild animal trying to get a better look at its prey.

At her prompting, a memory flashed in Rose's head - a memory that she had tucked away and forgotten long ago. She blinked and suddenly she was back on Satellite Five with the entirety of the time vortex running through her mind. "I can see all that is, all that was, all that ever could be ..." her past self muttered, her eyes glowing bright with the same golden haze that was standing before her now.

"The Bad Wolf," Rose muttered as understanding finally crashed over her in waves. "You're the Bad Wolf."

The creature before her smiled ferally once more, her eyes flashing somehow impossibly brighter. "You know me," the woman replied slowly. "I have been with you throughout all of time and space, Rose Tyler, and I have come again to usher you into the next chapter of your journey."

"But what does that mean?" Rose asked desperately. "What's going to happen to me?"

"Your old body will die," the Bad Wolf explained in an emotionless monotone, "but the mind will move on to a new one."

"A ... new body?" Rose asked, confused.

"In time," the Bad Wolf agreed simply. "It will take a lot of energy to get you back to that world, but it will happen. It has already happened. It will always happen. This has been designed from the moment that you looked into the heart of the TARDIS."

"So all of that ... that dream with the daleks ..." Rose's words trailed off as the memories of the dream suddenly came flooding back to her. That man with the chin ... could it really be?

"It was a weak connection," the Bad Wolf explained slowly. "In time, you will be tied to that world world more concretely. For now, you experience these things as dreams."

"And ... the Doctor?" Rose asked hesitantly, barely daring to hope.

"He's alive and well. And waiting for you."

"But ... the name ... I called myself 'Oswin' ..." Rose continued, still trying to wrap her head around this great, impossible situation.

"Oswin, Rose, Clara, Bad Wolf, what's in a name?" the creature asked, flashing her odd, inhuman smile once more.

"Okay, but ... in the dream I couldn't remember who I was. Not properly, at least," Rose insisted. "How am I supposed to find the Doctor again if I don't even know who I am?"

"The connections will build in time," the Bad Wolf assured her. "All will happen as it was designed to happen. You'll see it all very soon, when I come again at Christmas."

"Christmas?" Rose repeated dubiously.

"Until then, Rose Tyler ..."

And then her eyelids snapped open and Rose came awake with a startled gasp. Her eyesight was no longer as good as it had once been, but in the pitch-black darkness of her room, she could easily see that there was a strange, yellow glow coming off of her skin. She breathed out a heavy, confused sigh and a swirl of bright golden energy drifted from between her lips like smoke and danced before her eyes.

It was all so completely, ridiculously, impossibly mad, but when she got up the next morning, Rose still made sure to mark her calendar and count the days until Christmas. She had to admit that she was interested to see what the Bad Wolf would show her next.

#doctor who #dw #fanfiction #fanfic #dw fanfic #dw fanfiction #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #rose tyler #the doctor #eleventh doctor #eleven/rose #elevenxrose

[rcrantz]

Reviewing Doctor Who: What Have We Learned, Class?

Now that I’ve watched every Doctor Who there is to watch, you may be surprised to learn that I have some opinions! So, since you’re all here, I suppose I may as well share.

The Classic Era. You know that old cliche about the one constant characteristic of Doctor Who being change? It’s absolutely correct. It started its life as a low-budget show about a grumpy old man with a very inaccurate time machine and became . . . a lot of different things over the years. But it started to feel like Doctor Who pretty early on in its run--much like the character of the Doctor, the themes and faces change, but there is a core idea that never quite goes away.

As such, it’s hard to give the classic era one defining trait--each Doctor is very different from most of the others--but I think it’s safe to say that characters are handled differently. In the classic era, character arcs are less of a thing. We seldom meet the friends and family of our companions, and there are very few character-driven stories. That’s not to say there aren’t excellent characters and excellent character dynamics, but the focus is generally elsewhere. (There are, of course, exceptions.)

The interesting thing is how casual this makes some of the companions’ departures. Modern Who won’t let a companion leave without giving them a whole climactic episode (and Moffat won’t let a companion leave without having them pretend to leave six times, then have them seem to leave forever only to come back and travel through space and time with some random interstellar badass); in contrast, many of the companion departures in classic Who are fairly abrupt. The Doctor ditches Susan so she can get married to the dude she was hanging out with; he leaves Sarah Jane Smith in the wrong city because humans aren’t allowed on Gallifrey and he’s been summoned; Nyssa decides that she’d rather stay and help plague victims than keep traveling; and so on. Sometimes they decide to leave, sometimes the Doctor leaves them behind, but the show seldom dwells.

On the one hand, if you don’t like a companion this is fantastic. Classic Who relies much less on continuity (due, I think, largely to the format): if a character is gone, chances are we won’t hear about them again. But it does mean that some interesting character dynamics aren’t fully explored.

All told, I had a lot of fun with the classic era, and I think a lot of it is worth revisiting. Due to the episodic nature it’s pretty easy to just drop in wherever; you’ll probably figure out what’s going on without too much trouble. (I think Romana is the only companion who benefits from a bit of explanation, and even then all you need to say is “Romana is also a Time Lord.”)

The Davies Era. When I started watching, of course, Davies was all there was. I think I picked it up right after the End of Time had aired, before Moffat’s era started. Davies loves his character drama (see also my “rose is sad” tag), and lingers a lot on the effect the Doctor has on the lives he touches--and on the lives of their family and friends. Though this sometimes goes spectacularly badly (see: Father’s Day), for the most part I appreciate it. The companions feel more real, and it adds a layer of complexity to the Doctor’s character and his relationship with his companions.

He also likes big explosive finales where the fate of the world/universe is in balance, and meta-arcs which aren’t so much story arcs as they are a series of references that make you go “ah-ha” when you finally hit the finale. I actually like that, for the most part: if the finale is bad, you don’t feel that the whole arc is ruined; if it’s good, it adds a little bit of extra satisfaction to the resolution.

Early on in Davies’ run, the Doctor was usually an unknown character. He later starts running into people he’s encountered before, and of course the Daleks have a personal vendetta, but only once (during a Moffat-penned episode) during the Davies era does the Doctor save the day by just saying “I’m the Doctor, look me up.”

The Davies era is still firmly in the classic style: the Doctor and his companions live on the TARDIS. In the modern era they now visit their homes with some regularity, but they’re still primarily travelers. On some level, even if they’re expecting to be able to go home again, they give up their lives to travel with the Doctor.

The Moffat Era. I was actually pretty stoked to hear Moffat was the new showrunner when time rolled around, because his episodes thus far had all been top-notch. And while doing this rewatch I did not dislike it nearly as much as I’d remembered. So why was it frustrating my first time through?

I think most of it is that Moffat likes to set up interesting mysteries without having a good resolution in mind. Sometimes he simply fails to resolve them, sometimes the resolution is a cheap cop-out, and sometimes it’s just unsatisfying. And the seasons are now woven into the meta-plot to some degree or other, making it harder to extricate.

Moffat’s meta-plots are more involved than Davies’ were, which also means they’re less subtle. They will regularly feature brief segments, usually at the end of an episode, where the ongoing mystery happens: In Series 5, it would be a shot of a Crack in Time; in Series 8, we had Missy; etc., etc. I didn’t like most of these meta-plots, as you can probably see from the fact that I gave most of their conclusions relatively poor grades.

Moffat is also much more focused on the Doctor as a character, and especially early on it’s focused on the Doctor as the Most Important Being In The Universe. This leads to some really goofy situations (the Pandorica Opens), and there’s a lot more reliance on “I’m the Doctor, look me up” as a resolution to plot devices. (There’s also a lot more reliance on “time travel!!!” as a resolution, which Doctor Who actually usually tries to avoid, I think because it’s usually not as clever as Moffat thinks it is.) He tries to back away from this later on, but there are still some lingering traces. (He literally makes the Doctor the President of Earth. This is wrong on so many levels.)

It also seems Moffat does not particularly like two-part episodes. So, so many of these stories I’ve had the thought on initially watching them that “if this had a second part, it would have been great.” The pacing feels rushed. Worse, often when we do have two-parters, they frequently follow the “part one is a completely different story from part two” formula. This is fine occasionally, but often it makes it feel like, rather than resolving the cliffhanger from the previous episode, we’re just assuming that was resolved off camera and we’ve got a new, related story going on. 45-ish minutes is not a very long time to tell a good story; it’s doable, but many of the stories want us to care about characters we’ve hardly had time to get to know.

For some reason partway through Amy and Rory’s time on the TARDIS, Moffat decided that his companions now lived primarily at home, and the Doctor only stops by occasionally for Adventure Purposes. I don’t think this decision made anything better.

Still, though I have many critiques of the Moffat era, it’s still Doctor Who. It produced some fantastic episodes, and Twelve is probably my second favorite modern Doctor (despite a seriously rocky start).

Stray Thoughts. Doctor Who experiments. I think that’s at the heart of the show. Sometimes those experiments fall flat, and sometimes they accomplish great things, but despite being a show with a strong formula, it’s never afraid to innovate. It’s true we’d probably have missed out on some of the less enjoyable stories if the show had been more conservative, but we also wouldn’t have stories like Midnight. (Hell, we probably wouldn’t even be here. I don’t know if I would have made the decision to have the Doctor transform from a grumpy old man into a bumbling clown way back in the day, and I think that change, more than anything else, helped bring us to the modern era.) It’s a show with the spirit of an explorer, and even when it falls flat it doesn’t diminish the effort.

By the time this gets published, it’ll only be a few months til the Christmas special airs, which will be the end of the Moffat era and the end of Twelve, and very probably will be our first “official” glimpse at Jodie Whittaker as the Thirteenth Doctor. The show’s about to change--that’s what it does. That’s why it’s still here, fifty-odd years later. I, for one, am looking forward to it.

#doctor who

[yama-els]

So season 10...

Just warning ya'll im kinda tearing apart the latest season here, not that i didn't enjoy it because i defiantly did it just didn't feel like doctor who usually did. You've been warned 👌 Okay so here we go, there are multiple reasons why doctor who didn't have the same feeling in season 10 as past one have in my opinion. Now both Pearl and Peter are brilliant actors who i love very very much however i find that the story writing for this season is what let me down, again i truly love this show otherwise i wouldn't have been looking things up and thinking and writing about all this for like the past couple of hours now. This season brought in a lot of new aliens and i mean a lot... 9/12 eps were around new species. The other three were as following: one for the ice warriors and 2 for the cyber man. And to be honest the ice warriors are'nt even really a very memorable foe. Now im all for new aliens but when you leave the Darleks out of a season... y'know the doctors sworn enemy... im gonna be a lil bit bummed out ( ´_ゝ`) y'know at least one would've been nice... Another important thing in doctor who i feel are each doctors memorable catchphrases. Eccleston's "Fantastic" David's "Allon-sy". Matt Smith honestly had quite a few like Geronimo, come along pond and (insert blank) are cool. Our twelfth doctor however did not have a distinct catchphrase, i even read that Moffat decided this and said that he was'nt particularly a fan of catchphrases... even though its been a fundamental thing in doctor who since the begining. Now onto the companions, throughout the modern series of doctor who each companion has either been given a certain title or become this title as the story progress's. Rose Tyler: Bad Wolf Girl Martha Jones: The Doctor's Doctor Donna Nobel: The Most Important Woman in The Universe Amy Pond: The Girl Who Waited Clara Oswald: The Impossible Girl River Song: The Doctor's Wife Even the a couple of the boys had certain titles Rory the Roman and Captain Jack ultimately was The Face of Bo. However did Bill ever really get one of these titles? Her relationship with the Doctor seemed less purposeful, at least to me. Rose fell in love with the doctor and so did Martha both wanting to stay by his side and doing their hardest to help him out. Donna became so dear so important and a brilliant friend to the doctor helping him to smile again after losing rose and saved the doctor on so many occasions, we see in the episode "Turn Left" how important it is that she meet the doctor to help save the world. Amy pond met the doctor as a little girl and grew up to once again meet him and then birth who became his wife! Now river, river was tied back to the doctor even before we, the audience, really knew how important she was, all the way to the episode "Silence in the Library". Clara was the girl who kept popping up in the doctors timeline through impossible situations earning the title.,The impossible girl. Bill however just kinda slipped into the doctors life relatively easily and proceeded to follow him. Other than becoming the doctors friend, Bill seemed to have no further connection with the doctor. Nothing really stringing her to his timeline other to ultimately go on cool space adventures. So all in all i may have enjoyed this season as a sci-fi genre show but not really as doctor who that I've religiously watched since i was in primary school. I don't have a problem with the actors at all i think they are marvelous but i think because certain aspects that doctor who is know for, that were taken out, really put a dampener on my enthusiasm for this season. Feel free to like tell me how you feel if you want to object any of my statements, if you agree? I'd honestly really love to know because i love this show so so much and i just really wanna see it bloom 💖

#doctorwho #doctor who #peter capaldi #matt smith #christopher eccleston #david tennant #dooweedoo #whoviand #twelfth doctor #season 10 doctor who

[pamphletstoinspire]

Our Universal Mother - Part 55

Our Lady of The Holy Rosary Appears at Fatima 1917

Many people think that Our Lady of the Holy Rosary is called Our Lady of Fatima. But when Our Lady appeared on May 13th 1917, she told Lucia that she was Our Lady of the Holy Rosary. It was because of the town Fatima in Portugal, where the apparitions took place, Mary became known as Our Lady of Fatima.

If you go to the original church in the town of Fatima where Lucia, Francisco and Jacinta would attend the Holy Latin Mass, you will see a statue of Mary with the words written on it: “Our Lady of the Holy Rosary”.

This is important because there is a connection between Our Lady of Victory, from the Battle of Lepanto, to Our Lady of the Holy Rosary of Fatima. We see that the feast day of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary is October 7th. the day when the victory was won at Lepanto against the Muslims.

The reason this is mentioned is to show that the only reason why the angel of Peace and Our Lady appeared to Lucia de Jesus dos Santos and Francisco and Jacinta Marto was to plead for the praying of the Holy Rosary.

In October of 1910 there was a revolution in Portugal when the Catholic King Manuel II was deposed. The liberal First Republic of Portugal was established by the masons. As in the French Revolution, these government officials hated the Catholic Church. The people of the Enlightenment and the masons believe in Deism. This means that the “great architect in the sky” wound up the universe and left it to exist with no divine intervention. To them there can be no miracles since their god does not interfere with our reality. So they do not believe in miracles that proved that God exists and who is present to us when we ask His help.

In the Spring of 1916 in a meadow, the three children were watching the sheep, playing and praying the Holy Rosary poorly. But they were still praying the Holy Rosary when a young man appeared who said: I am the angel of Peace. Pray with me!” The angel then knelt down and bowed over very low, as did the children, as he taught them the prayer:

“My God, I believe, I adore, I hope, and I love You. I ask pardon for those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope, and do not love You.”

After repeating this prayer three times the angel rose and said:

“Pray in this way. The hearts of Jesus and Mary are ready to listen to you.”

Again in the autumn of 1916 the angel, when the children were in Lucia’s back yard, appeared. This time he told them he was the Guardian angel of Portugal.

On his third apparition he suspended a Chalice and Holy Host (which was dripping blood into the Chalice) in the air and along with them, prostrated himself in the presence of the Eucharist and prayed:

“Most Holy Trinity-Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -I adore thee profoundly. I offer thee the most precious Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ, present in all the tabernacles in the world, in reparation for all the outrages, sacrileges and indifferences whereby he is offended. And through the infinite merits of His Most Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I beg of Thee the conversion of poor sinners.”

He gave the host to Lucia and the Precious Blood to Francisco and Jacinta saying: ”Take the Body and the Blood of Jesus Christ horribly outraged by thankless men. Recover their sins and comfort your God.”

Again, in this, we see the importance of prostrating and kneeling when receiving Jesus (God) in Holy Communion. And these apparitions of the holy angel were meant to prepare for Mary’s coming to ask them to pray the Holy Rosary.

From the first time Our Lady appeared at the Cova da Iria (May 13, 1917) to the last time she appeared (Oct. 13, 1917), Mary always told the children to recite the Holy Rosary every day (the 15 mysteries). On that first day, she also told them why they were to pray the Holy Rosary every day: “to obtain peace for the world and the end of the (First World) war“.

On July 13 she asked them to pray the “Fatima prayer” after each decade: “Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy”.

On August 13, the children we abducted by the masonic government officials and put in jail. They tried every way possible to get them to tell the 3 secrets Our Lady had entrusted to them. Even after being threatened to be boiled alive in hot oil, they still went away to (what they thought was their death) with out divulging the secrets. They were totally surprised to find their companions alive in another room of the jail. This also proves the reality of these apparitions, because a 7, 9 and 10 year old would not have been willing to die for a lie they had just made up. Our Lady did appear on August 19 and told Lucia: “Many souls go to hell because there is no one to pray for them.”

The great miracle of the Sun spinning in the sky, stopping and drying off all the wet pilgrims took place on October 13, 1917. This great day of miracles, including Jesus and St. Joseph appearing, took place on the masons favorite day. They consider Friday, October 13 to be very special for them because that is the day all the Knights Templars were ordered to be arrested (including Jacques de Molay the grand knight) by King Philip IV of France in 1307. So when these great miracles happened in Fatima on October 13, the masonic government of Portugal knew very well what God and Mary were doing to prove to them that the Catholic Church (which they were persecuting in Portugal at this time) was truly from God and that God intervenes in history through Mary and miracles.

The message that day from the Queen of Heaven was: “I am the Lady of the Rosary, build a chapel in my honor where the Rosary will be recited every day“.

Here again we have God showing us the importance of praying the Holy Rosary every day. May we receive the great protection and miracles, that God wants to give us through Our Lady, as we devoutly pray the 15 traditional mysteries of the Holy Rosary every day.

The luminous mysteries were introduced by Pope John Paul II. They are meditating on the “active life of Jesus between His childhood and His passion”. As important as these events are for us Catholics, the Joyful, Sorrowful and Glorious mysteries are based on emotional participation in Jesus’ Joy, Sorrow and Glory along with Mary. There are so many other events surrounding the annunciation, birth, life, passion, resurrection, apparitions, ascension of Jesus, that could also be used to make up 5 or 10 more mysteries. But Our Lady gave us the 15 mysteries that have been prayed for at least 800 years. Again, why do we need to improve on the Mysteries of the Holy Rosary that Our Lady taught us? Trust her and just pray the 15 traditional mysteries every day.

Mary pray for us! 

#our universal mother

[abutterflyobsession]

Doctor Who AU: Part 16

prelude/one/two/three/four/five/six/seven/eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/ao3

“What about this one?” Roland stepped over the twisted wreckage of the smashed painting and indicated another canvas that had been concealed behind the picture of the Doctor, “ring any bells? Rustle any leaves?”

“That's . . . Dawn?”

Bog figured that keeping Roland talking helped delay the creation of an evil plant army and, more importantly, any more personal suffering on Bog's part. Bog was just too tired to consider the abstract thought of a plant army attacking the world for no discernible reason except for Roland's twisted amusement.

The painting did look just like Dawn. Fluffy yellow hair and energetically cheerful face.

“Wrong!” Roland waved a rebuking finger at Bog, “This lovely young lady, full of sunshine and love, is obviously my buttercup.”

“That is obviously Dawn.”

“I'm telling you it isn't. My buttercup and her sister are identical twins, you buffoon.”

“I have met them, you know. Noticed that they aren't. Aren't identical. Not in the least.”

“You've met them as they are now. This girl of bright-eyed wonder was the lady who ended up in the Time War. Breaks your heart, doesn't it? Thinking of that poor little thing caught in all that messy fighting. Then she died.”

Roland knocked the painting off the wall and it landed face-down on the floor. He walked along the wall to the next painting, treading on the fallen canvas as he did.

“And so innocence is lost to the cruelty of the universe and the shattered remains of a once radiant youth are packed up and sent home with accolades and medals for valor. Like a purple heart with a new face thrown in as a bonus.”

The woman in the painting was nothing like Dawn—or the Doctor's supposed first face, that is. She looked to be at least in her mid-thirties, as compared to Dawn's early twenties.

Also, this woman was Indian.

“Look,” Bog said tiredly, “I've kind of lost a lot of blood so I'm not very quick on the uptake right now, but . . . what?”

“Why must I be plagued with the tiny, ignorant brains of lesser beings?” Roland implored the ceiling before turning his gaze back to Bog with a look of deliberate condescension, “When a Time Lord dies they regenerate. If you're off wandering around on a battlefield there's no way to stabilize things when your genetics get put through a blender and things can get a little off model. So, new face. New brain. Old memories. Very simple.”

“Of course it is.”

“This broken little soul comes home to the loving embrace of her family. The family who had wanted to tuck her safely away with her sister, but instead she ran off to play soldier and got herself killed. There were reconciliations, hugs, all manner of touching emotional slop. Even her darling, dearest husband had come home. And like she was a changed woman, he was a changed man.”

“I'm hoping I pass out soon, honestly.”

“The war was ended, the lovely lady goes spinning off into the universe with reckless abandon, burning through face,” Roland knocked down the painting, “after face,” he knocked down the next one, “after face.”

He made his way around the room, knocking the paintings off the wall one by one until they were all laying on the floor.

“Trying to make a fresh start. To shake off the past, the fickle lady that she is. Me, I prefer to maintain a standard,” Roland gestured to his face, “the highest of standards. Everything she ever wanted me to be and yet she still discards me. For you, of all primitive creatures!”

“I'd say you lost me but I wasn't really following to start with. I met the woman like five minutes ago and I'm not exactly enamored of the consequences so far.”

“Fixed point in time,” Roland went on, punctuating his narrative with dramatic hand gestures, “Boy meets girl. Girl tells boy about his roots and he ends up doing glorious things for his plant peers. Boy and girl fall in love, get married, have 2.5 kids. Well, maybe not the last part, but you get the point. It's a tale as old as time and it's a disgusting cliché.”

“To be honest, I'm not exactly keen on the Doctor. So let me go and you can get back to your obsessive stalking without having to worry about me.”

“Please,” Roland pressed his hand to his chest, “I've worked myself to the bone to prevent you two meeting. It's tied into her sister's release somehow so I arranged for plenty of danger to come my sweetheart's way. A few daleks here, a cyberman army or two there. I knew she's get herself out just fine, clever little thing, but it convinced her it just wasn't safe to wake up her dear baby sister. But she ended up doing it anyway and—ugh! You make your entrance.”

“I really don't want to be hearing about your relationship problems. Have you ever considered that the lady just isn't interested in you anymore?”

Roland stared at Bog with total incomprehension.

“No,” Roland laughed away the idea, “No, before you came along it used to be her and me, rocketing around the universe, playing our game. She might have amused herself with you little mayflies, playing at friendship and humanity, but all of them passed. I was still the most important one in her life, her one, real companion throughout all of the universe and all of history. But then this glorified potted plant comes along and for some reason her head is completely turned.”

“Look, I haven't even known her a whole day and I would hardly imagine her head as capable of being turned by anything less than than blunt force trauma.”

“Yes, because you haven't gotten to that part yet!”

“Right.”

“It happened, but then I made sure it didn't happen! I made sure that your happy, fluffy little meeting never happened. Then time went all to pieces and kept trying to shove you two together some other way. She knows, my buttercup knows that something isn't right and she's been trying to get to the bottom of it, but I've kept her distracted. Yet somehow you end up meeting. But I'll fix it. I'll change it.”

“I'm totally up for going home and losing her phone number.”

Something pinged softly.

“Hm, results are in.”

A console rose up in the center of the room. It was a sleek thing, a far cry from the patchwork console in the Doctor's TARDIS. This one was white with reflective silver trimming. Bog wondered if that was so Roland could catch glimpses of his own face while he worked.

“How frustrating,” Roland said after a brief study of a screen's readout, “I'm still having trouble cracking the code.”

“You tried your best. Guess it's time to call it a day.”

“It would seem that there is not only a genetic lock on it. It's recognized you as admin and has decided that only your genetic code and your mental profile can unlock it. Hm, dear, dear, I was so hoping I could kill you now.”

“Too bad.”

“I'm sure I can make it work.”

“Lovely.

The Doctor frowned at the readout from the vortex manipulator.

“Why were you skipping around 1960s America for a week?”

“I thought we were working on a plan to save Bog,” Dawn sighed, “not prying into my activities.”

“I was checking the charge.”

“It was an accidental excursion. We got back as soon as we could.”

“What were you doing all that time?” the Doctor asked suspiciously.

“Oh, this and that. Caught some concerts. Partied with some celebrities. Tried to process that my sister is eight hundred years older than I thought.”

The Doctor dropped the vortex manipulator and crossed the room to rummage in a dented tool box. This conveniently placed her so that she was facing away from Dawn.

“I'm not mad. Well, I'm not boiling in a red-hot fury of indignant rage anymore. I'm still not happy with you, but I've calmed down enough to listen to whatever you have to say. And to hear the story of . . . what happened to mom and dad.”

Oh, little rising star, Dawn's sister had said, I tried. You have to believe I tried. But I couldn't save them.

Then the cloister bells had tolled and the discussion was shelved.

Dawn had run out of the TARDIS, shoving the words out of her head, refusing to accept them. She had fixed a smile on her face and ran like mad toward the next adventure. And she had kept running, headlong into the 1960s, right until the third day of their involuntary stay there when it all became too much to hold inside and she spilled the whole story out to Sunny.

He had been teaching her to climb trees at a park. Not an important park that showed up in the history books. Just a park somewhere with ducks swimming in a pond. A few of the ducks were actually an alien species, but Dawn figured they were close enough not to make much of a difference.

“I figured out pretty quick that I was better at climbing and acrobatic stuff because I was small,” Sunny was telling her, “I've got a good center of gravity. The advantage of being short is that my legs aren't so long that I get tangled up in my own feet. I was in all these gymnastic classes when I was a kid and my mom was always talking about how I'd end up going to the Olympics but that was just her bragging it up to her friends. I've always thought of it more as a survival skill than anything else.”

Sunny had climbed up the tree so fast and so easily that Dawn couldn't see how he had done it, so she made him come down and do it twice more. Then she tried to copy his moves and slammed her head into a branch.

“Usually it's my sister who ends up needing medical attention,” Dawn grumbled once they were finally in the tree, sheltered among the thick growth of spring leaves.

“Heh, every family has one of those. My mom likes to say that my brother Josh broke three arms.”

“I'm assuming he didn't actually have three arms?”

“Nope. He broke his left, his right, then his left again. One time by falling like three feet into soft sand.”

“When we were ten my sister broke her leg when she tripped in the middle of an empty room with a perfectly level floor. Even she wasn't sure how she did it, but she insisted for years that it had been invisible aliens and we both researched every kind of race and species with invisibility and camouflage abilities and got so interested that when we went to the academy we coauthored a paper on the subject. I wanted to call it something like “Exposing the Hidden Enemies” but my sister said no one would get the joke since most of the races we discussed in the paper were rather shy and not at all violent.”

“But they did break her leg. That's pretty vicious.”

“That was my exact argument! It nearly swayed her, too.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Just the two of us. You have six brothers, right? That sounds . . . crowded.”

“Totally. The family joke is that there was no space for me to grow, all my older brothers had filled it already. They're all taller than I am. I got used to being randomly picked up by my brothers just because they thought it was cool that they could.”

“What about your parents?”

“Both taller than I am. I'll forever be their 'little boy,'” Sunny wiggled his fingers to make air quotes, “Mom's a welder and dad runs a little Cajun catering business. Mom used to be a backup dancer for a whole lot of different bands, but after she had my oldest brother she decided welding was steadier work. I get all my moves from her. We all do. You should see us at family reunions, we have a whole hip hop routine.”

“That sounds . . . amazing . . .”

That was when Dawn had started crying and told Sunny that her parents were gone, that they had been dead and dust for centuries and she hadn't even known until that day. Just a little while before she had been looking forward to seeing them again and telling them all about her adventures rattling around in an obsolete TARDIS.

For a little while she cried and hated her sister for lying.

Now, back in the TARDIS, watching the stiff set of her sister's shoulders, Dawn was ready to hear the story.

“After we save Bog, like the foliage in distress that he is, you have to tell me what you've been doing. Eight hundred years, that's a lot of adventures. Or misadventures. No wonder this TARDIS is such a wreck. Have you even been doing maintenance on it or do you just wait until something explodes and sets the room on fire?”

“You'll want to leave,” the Doctor said without turning around, “Once you know everything you'll want to leave.”

“You don't--”

“You think I'm still the same inside. Still your happy, kind sister. But there's nothing left of her but some old photographs.”

“Well, we'll see.”

“I am super uncomfortable listening to this,” Sunny called from the other side of the console room.

“Why did you bring your date back here?” the Doctor grumbled, “didn't you do enough kissing on your little excursion? What are you keeping him around for?”

“I might want to kiss him again,” Dawn grinned.

“Doesn't that get tedious?”

“Nah, Sunny is a good kisser.”

“I am going to die,” Sunny groaned, “I hope that I die.”

Bog had fallen into a haze of exhaustion, too uncomfortable to sleep, but too tired to stay awake. He watched in a detached way as some sort of electronic device was assembled, cables snaking between it and him. Roland's voice rose and fell in smug tones but Bog couldn't wake himself up enough to listen.

A hitch in Roland's smooth voice sparked a tiny bit of interest in Bog, but not enough for him to try and force his eyes full open.

“You really need to moisturize more often. Winter is murder on the skin,” a familiar voice said close to Bog's ear, the breath of their words touching his face. A bottle was put to his lips and water poured into his dry mouth. He almost choked before he remembered how to swallow.

“Took you long enough,” He said when the bottle was empty and his eyes focused enough to let him see the Doctor's face floating in front of him like a dream, “I can feel myself getting uglier by the second.”

“You're looking good, marsh man. The calvary is here.”

“Finally!” Roland's voice rang out, “I thought you were never going to show up, sugar! Now, before you go fiddling with any of those cables please be aware they're jacked into his nervous system and if you pull them out he'll flat line immediately.”

“What is this? What have you done?”

Bog felt the Doctor's fingers touching where the cables had been attached to his arm, driven in through the hardening bark of his skin. The sonic screwdriver whistled and glowed, but she needn't have bothered, Roland was eager to share the details of his project.

“I've turned him into an interface for his precious primrose. He's hooked up to my computers and I've got full access. The AI program is functioning, he template for the army has been complete and growth is beginning outside. Within the hour I'll have an army big enough to take this city. Within a day . . .? Probably enough to take the country.”

“Turn it off!”

“Sure thing, darlin'. Here's the switch.”

A small white box with a red button on it was tossed into the Doctor's hand.

“Just, before you press that you should probably know something: I've worked it out so that if you turn off my program you turn off your chia pet.”

“Explain.” the doctor grated out the order, button clutched in her hand.

“It's simply, dearest, really. If you want to stop my army then you have to turn off the program. But if you stop the program you hit the kill switch on the plant as well. You can either stop my army or save him. You can't do both. Now, think it over, but don't take too long. But I'm sure you'll decide quickly. We both know how good you are at making hard decisions.”

The smile he gave was vicious.

#strange magic #spread the lofe #butterfly bog #potionless #strange magic doctor who au #doctor who au #my writing fanfic #I'm too tired to do a better job I'm sorry

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Conan Companion, Star Trek, Necromancers, Stanley Mullen

New Release (Amazon): By Crom! At long last the definitive history of Conan the Barbarian paperbacks that fans have clamoured for. 107 pages with detailed chapters devoted to each of the mighty Cimmerian’s publishers. Heavily illustrated with many rare images. Plus complete cover galleries of every US and UK Conan title ever issued. In full colour. An indispensable aid to Conan collectors and completists everywhere. Featuring a specially written foreword by Conan comics legend Roy Thomas!

    Star Trek (Huffington Post): The LA Times recently ran a story about the Child Exploitation Section of the Toronto Sex Crimes Unit, which contained a mind-boggling statistic: of the more than 100 offenders the unit has arrested over the last four years, “all but one” has been “a hard-core Trekkie.” Blogger Ernest Miller thought this claim was improbable. “I could go to a science fiction convention,” he explained “and be less likely to find that 99+ percent of the attendees were hard-core Trekkies.” While there may be quibbling about the exact numbers, the Toronto detectives claim that the connection is undeniable.

    Review (Brain Leakage): That said, if you are looking for a great post-apocalyptic read, I want to draw your attention to the work of Jon Mollison. I read his A Moon Full of Stars recently, with the intent of dedicating a full-length ‘Pocky-clypse Now review to it soon. I do still plan on doing that. But I’m probably going to wait until after our daily news cycle looks a little less like the opening credits to the 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake.

Awards (Kairos): … And enjoy a hearty laugh at the incestuous wasteland the once-prestigious Hugo Awards have become.

Predictions that the Hugo field would degenerate into a circle jerk of olpdub purse puppies beloved by editors in New York–and pretty much no one else–have been realized ahead of schedule.

Here’s a partial list of this year’s finalists.

D&D (DMR Books): The Complete Book of Necromancers by Steve Kurtz was released in the spring of 1995, and came and went fairly quickly. Luckily a friend of mine snagged one shortly after it came out. Ostensibly the book was intended for the eyes of Dungeon Masters only, but of course we were hungry to add the new spells and powers to our player characters’ repertoires. Clark Ashton Smith is mentioned by name in the majority of the chapters of Necromancers. While Smith’s absence from Appendix N is conspicuous, Kurtz more than made up for the oversight.

Fiction (Digital Bibliophilia): Any book that opens Page One with a man being skewered by the broken mast of a sailing ship in the middle of a storm has to be good right? Well, I’m happy to say Oath of Blood by Arthur Frazier lives up to its gory opening scene and delivers a fantastic little novel about the clash of the Saxons, Normans and Vikings during the 11th century (1066 to be precise). Arthur Frazier was one of many pen names used by the prolific Kenneth Bulmer.

Gaming (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): Charisma. It’s not just a dump stat, they say. But look, if you don’t have a lot of it, you’re going to be stuck in a career as an assassin. Which is kind of funny, actually. Of course if you were going to actually use that stat in an AD&D game, you’re going to have to flip to the middle of the combat section to find the reaction table. Why is it there right in the middle of sections detailing initiative and missile discharge? Evidently this something pretty important to consider when the players have initiative in a random encounter, right?

Fiction (Dark Worlds Quarterly): Another writer who has left a huge legacy with little recognition is Gardner Francis Cooper Fox (1911-1986). Fox began his career writing for Batman as early as 1939. (It was Fox who gave Bruce Wayne his “utility belt”.) During his decades long career with DC, he would work on such characters as The Flash, Hawkman and The Justice Society of America. He was there when Julius Schwartz revamped DC comics to meet the new “Comics Code”. He was there when DC invented its Multiverse.  Outside of DC, he would pen the first Sword & Sorcery comic called “Crom the Barbarian”.

Fiction (DMR Books): The book being advertised was Kinsmen of the Dragon by Stanley Mullen. I was completely unfamiliar with both the title and the author. A bit of research revealed that this book had never been reprinted since its publication in 1951, which explains why it’s so little-known today. In spite of (or perhaps because of) its obscurity, good condition copies are pricey, usually going for over $50, and signed copies are much more.

Fiction/Gaming Tie-in (Karavansara): Two nights in Arkham: Lovecraft purists often frown at Lovecraft-inspired fiction. The main charge raised by these people is, other writers are either too much like Lovecraft or not at all like him, often at the same time. The second most common accusation is that certain stories are too action-centered and adventure-oriented, filled with guns blazing and chanting cultists. They usually blame Lovecraft’s popularity with the gaming crowd as the main reason for these degenerate pastiches, in which Indiana Jones or Doc Savage seem to exert an influence stronger than Nyarlathotep’s.

Fiction (Mostly Old Books): he Fargo series tell the tales of early 20th Century adventurer and solider of fortune Neal Fargo. They aren’t Westerns as the covers suggest. In this installment Fargo is hired by a rich old blowhard to rescue some Mayan treasures and the excavation team, which includes his son, from the jungles of Central America.

Cinema (The Silver Key): 1917 had been in my “to watch” queue for a long time (aka, floating around in the back of my mind), and last night I watched it with my older daughter, a self-described “film buff” who wanted to see what the hype was all about. Two word review: Excellent film. It’s an intensely personal/soldier’s journey type of story, and also manages to convey the larger tragedy of the Great War.

Fiction (Sacnoth’s Scriptorium): The Inklings and the Mythos (Dale Nelson). So, I’ve now recovered the missing issue of MALLORN* containing Dale Nelson’s wide-ranging inquiry into possible connections between the Inklings and Lovecraft’s circle, “The Lovecraft Circle and the Inklings: The ‘Mythopoeic Gift’ of H. P. Lovecraft” (MALLORN 59, Winter 2018, pages 18-32). It’s a substantial piece, and in it Nelson raises such topics as the following: Did the two groups read or were they influenced by each other?

Fiction (Scott Oden): In the past few weeks, my sophomore novel, MEMNON (Medallion Press, 2006; Crossroad Press, 2018), has received a raft of four-and-five star ratings on Goodreads and a pair of excellent reviews — which, for a fourteen-year old novel is no mean feat.  Author Matt Larkin, in his review at Amazon, writes: “Evocative prose paints a living picture of the Classical world while the sudden, brutal violence serves to remind us never to look at history through rose-colored glasses.” While Scott Marlowe of Out of this World Reviews praises many things, including the battles: “I can only describe [them] as spectacular and right up there with some of the best battles I’ve had the pleasure to read in historical fiction (think Bernard Cornwell, surely one of the best of them all). Memnon gives Alexander such grief I imagine Alexander remembered their contests right up until his dying days.”

Fiction (Tentaculii): Lovecraft’s famous survey of supernatural literature was published in The Recluse in August 1927. Later in the same year Eino Railo published the history of the literary gothic in The Haunted Castle: A Study of the Elements of English Romanticism. A December 1927 review in the New York Evening Post suggests Railo’s book was published in time for the Christmas market and the January book-token crowd, and thus it appeared several months after Lovecraft’s circle had finished digesting his Supernatural Literature. Lovecraft refers to The Haunted Castle, a translation from the Finnish, in admiring terms in a later letter to Barlow and terms it a study of “the weird”.

History (Men of the West): Suddenly the war became fun. It became exciting, carnivalesque, tremendous. It became victorious and even safe. We awoke on the morning of Sunday, the 30th of July, with the feeling that the war was won — in spirit, if not in fact. Patton and the Third Army were away. At the 8th Corps, which held the western sector of the Normandy front, the G2 colonel said: “We’ve lost contact with the enemy.”

Fiction (Tentaculii): The second half of a forthcoming book, No Ghosts Need Apply: Gothic influences in criminal science, the detective and Doyle’s Holmesian Canon (October 2020), attempts to make the case that there are gothic traces in what are often assumed to be the ‘rationalist’ Sherlock Holmes stories. Sifting the extensive blurb for the book, one can eventually determine that the author suggests the following specific points… * intrigue and secret societies. . .

Fiction (M Porcius Blog): Let’s check out four stories by Mickey Spillane’s all-time favorite author, Fredric Brown, that first appeared in beautiful pulp magazines in 1942 and 1943, magazines that you can read at the universally beloved internet archive for free. “Etaoin Shrdlu” made its debut in Unknown Worlds in 1942.  The cover of Unknown may be boring, but the interior illustrations are quite fine, those by Frank Kramer for L. Sprague de Camp’s “The Undesired Princess” in particular.

Sensor Sweep: Conan Companion, Star Trek, Necromancers, Stanley Mullen published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/