Like a moth I’m drawn in to your flame,
Say my name, but it’s not the same.
You look in my eyes, I’m stripped of my pride.
And my soul surrenders,
And you bring my heart to it’s knees.
“You know me. Or at least, your soul knows me.”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life-“
“Yes you have. You just never had a reason to look for me. I’ve always been there, in the corner of your eye, in the shadows, watching and protecting you. I have followed your soul since it was cast from Heaven to inhabit this world. You have seen me before, just not with those eyes.”
In which Q is Qaphsiel, an archangel with little need to interfere in the universe, until he sees a soul so bright cast down to the realm of mortals that he cannot help himself and must see it for himself. He follows that soul through centuries, befriending and falling in love with each incarnation, each body it inhabits. He keeps them safe, keeps them on the beaten path they must tread, until it comes to inhabit one James Bond, a secret agent with no regard for his own life. It is the very last incarnation of the soul he fell in love with.
He must do all he can to keep him alive, even if it means revealing himself and going against the will of his Father to keep that soul, and James, from dying.
THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS SITE
ME TOO JOSH. ME TOO
Supernaturalists: ”Nobody died, but somehow this hurts more.”
Whovians: *confused rage*
Sherlockians: “So when’s season 3 again?”
Fannibals: “[Cannibalism joke]”
(so many cannibalism jokes)
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning."
David Tennant listens to slash fanfiction.