Warnings: implied smut, Dean’s lips, Dean’s moans, Dean (yes, they are all warnings)
Summary: Dean and that damn mouth of his. You just can’t get enough of it.
Author’s Note: Sorry I’ve been neglecting the requested fics you guys asked for. I just have a lot on my plate right now with writing. Tomorrow I have work and I will be writing all night long. If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!
Feedback is always appreciated
Tags at the bottom
“I’ll bet you taste better than pie.” Dean said from the
table besides yours. You groaned and rolled your eyes, setting the book you
were reading, down.
“Dean, you just won’t give up, will you?” You asked, looking
at him. He’s been hitting on you ever since you moved in with him and Sam. At
first, you wanted to see how long you could hold out until he got bored and
moved onto another girl but he never did.
Oh, I am so glad you asked for this one, my dear. TOS McSpirk is the ship that is nearest and dearest to my heart. I have so many feels, and so many headcanons, but I’ve always been a little intimidated of voicing them, because these three are just so damn important. Bear with me as I try my very best to do the triumvirate justice. @gracieminabox, I’m tagging you, too, solely because we’ve talked about some of this (or you’ve listened to me ramble at length, you wonderful person, you) and I am just drowning in my feels - throw me a life preserver, will ya?
Who said “I love you” first
None of them use the words.
It’s not something that needs to be spoken.
Carrying another’s soul changes a man. Everything, everything Spock’s ever seen and known and done, Len’s right in the thick of it all.
It’s as horrifying as it is mind-boggling. Len’s a deeply private person, and having someone else in his head, a rival, a friend, giving him a front row seat to all of his flaws and doubts and failings, well, that’s almost more than Len can bear.
Turns out, their minds are remarkably compatible. The man Len had sparred with, served with, depended on, fought against, and trusted with his very life becomes so deeply intertwined in Len’s consciousness that he can hardly separate where Leonard H. McCoy ends and S’chn T’gai Spock begins. They are one and the same, a duality housed in a single vessel, twin souls sharing a fragile human body.
Len’s shocked to find that Spock… still is, for lack of a better term. The living soul of another - katra, Spock corrects him pointedly - is just that, living. Spock is in the present; he reacts, and he thinks - boy, does he think, Len realizes - and Len very quickly has a hard time distinguishing between the thoughts that arise from his own mind, and those that are of Spock.
There’s no way to block it, either.
Len learns a very many things, seeing the world through Spock’s eyes.
He learns that Jim is Spock’s t’hy’la (he’s not surprised at this, not a bit, he just hadn’t realized that “bromance” was an official Vulcan relationship with an official Vulcan name).
He learns that Vulcans feel emotions. Vulcans feel emotions very strongly, in fact.
He learns about Spock’s past. About his childhood, about his home.
And he learns about himself.
It’s harder with Jim. Len catches the shadow of Jim’s essence through the fragile t’hy’la bond, like echoes in an empty room, but it’s dimmed, somehow, and Len can never be quite sure if the snatches of emotion and bleeding of thoughts that seem to emanate from Jim come from Jim-of-the-moment or memories of past-Jim supplied by the Spock who now lives only in Len’s head. Time seems to shift and bend, swirls of before looping over glints of today, Spock’s unfettered desire for Jim Kirk mingling and compounding with Len’s own until Len can hardly hold himself back (but he must, he must). The whole situation is enough to give him a pounding migraine that lasts for months.
Later, when Len wakes up on a stone slab with a throbbing head and a clawing emptiness in his soul, he realizes that he can still feel Spock.
Or rather, he can feel where Spock’s not.
There’s a gaping hole in Len’s mind, where there should be the swirling thoughts of another. It’s a devastating,godawful feeling. Len’s known heartbreak before, countless times in countless ways, but this is different, starker, more absolute. There’s a piece of him missing, a whole other side of him gone, and Len feels as if he’s slowly breaking apart, as if everything that’s ever made him the man he is is slowly crumbling around him.
He hardly even recognizes himself.
Spock seems to be shutting him out.
Spock, for his part, doesn’t know what to make of it. There is t’hy’la, his face so well-known and well-loved, the face that colors so many of his memories - “Your name is Jim,” - but there is the other, too. He has a bond with the other, the other whose face is so familiar and so beloved, the other who evokes such strange and bewildering emotions from his vulnerable heart. Their bond is wide open and blazing, like fire, like the sun, blinding in its brilliance. Spock’s memories are muddled and unexpected, colored by a lens that is not his, and he has a deeper understanding of the world and all that is in it than he’s ever remembered knowing before, a new, strange, human perspective. His knows a grief that is not his own, failures and triumphs and fierce pride and love, love, love, and a heartbreak, a loneliness that keens and blends with his own loneliness, thoughts that pulse and thrum and churn and break against his own thoughts.
Spock snaps his barriers up with a force that very nearly sends him reeling.
It takes him time to sort it out, to tease apart the trappings of his own mind and to separate his own experiences from those of Leonard McCoy.
“I’m gonna tell you something that I never thought I’d ever hear myself say. But it seems I’ve missed you. And I don’t know if I could stand to lose you again.”
It is only later, treading water in the tiny whale-tank on a centuries-old Earth, that Spock comes back to himself.
“I am Spock,” he tells her.
And he knows, then, that he is Spock, and that Jim is Jim, and that Leonard is Leonard, and that together, they are something new.
He waits for the opportune moment.
It is a surprisinglydifficult discipline, the waiting.
He manages it until the council hearing, and then, suddenly, he can resist no longer, moving to stand next to Jim and dropping his barriers just for an instant, hardly even glancing up to meet Leonard’s gaze.
He doesn’t have to - Leonard’s answering thrill of wonder and anticipation is like the rising of the sun, and its all there, magnified exponentially between them, joy, joy, joy, and love, love, love.
He finds them together that night, waiting for him in his own cabin.
Who would have the others’ picture as their phone background
There aren’t many photographs of just the three of them.
The background of Jim’s PADD is a picture of David.
The background of Len’s PADD is solid black. Spock and Len are remarkably similar in that regard (and in many others). Len, in any universe, prefers not to let anything distract him from his work, and it never occurs to Spock to personalize an object that is so clearly intended for his professional use.
Spock, though, is the one who collects objects of sentimental value.
It is only logical to do so. Jim and Leonard are human; he will likely outlive them both by at least a century. A broken marriage bond can easily drive an otherwise healthy Vulcan into insanity, and once failed, the Kohlinar is no longer an option - Spock knows, deep in his most secret thoughts, that he would not make another attempt at purging his emotions, even if he could.
It is far, far too late for that.
So he stores away small things, a photo of the bridge crew, a scrap of napkin that Jim has scrawled on, a snapshot of Len smiling under the Georgia sun, mementos, moments, little glimpses of a life well-lived. He keeps them all carefully hidden in a tiny box - “This is my logic,” - saving them for the day when memories are all he will have left of Leonard and Jim, these two extraordinary human men who have captured his heart so completely.
It is but a small price to pay, or so Spock tells himself.
Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror
Len scrawls their names in the traditional vanu-tanaf-kitaunin, fingers tracing the elaborate loops and curves with a muscle memory that is not his own, the mirror squeaking softly as he writes.
Spock stands at his shoulder as if to correct him, never speaking, only watching.
At length, Len pulls back. “Well, what do you think, Spock?” he asks, and Jim can see by the glint in his eye that he’s pleased with himself. “Not too bad, for a first try.”
Spock leans over him without a word, trailing one long finger at the edge of Len’s handiwork. “A satisfactory attempt,” he murmurs, flicking deftly to adjust the curve of serif that Len had neglected. “For a human.”
“Very pretty, Bones,” Jim reaches around them both, making his own mark on the glass.
JTK was here.
Len lifts his eyes heavenward and sighs.
Who buys the others cheesy gifts
Jim Kirk buys the cheesy gifts.
An “I <3 NY” shirt for Spock.
Red suede cowboy boots for Len (who wears them proudly).
“World’s Best Husband” mugs for all three of them.
Who initiated the first kiss
Len and Jim have kissed several times before the initiation of their relationship.
Len and Jim have been each others’ best friend, drinking buddy, and wing man for years. They’ve participated in more than a few wild nights - most notably that one exceptional shore leave on Argelius - and neither of them are adverse to a little inebriated physical affection.
After all, what’s a kiss between friends?
Spock and Jim, at the time of Spock’s death, were only beginning to explore their physical relationship. Spock had initiated a few superficial melds, but Jim, for the most part, remained aware of the t’hy’la bond only in passing, and Spock had only briefly introduced him to the Vulcan ozh’esta.
Never a full, proper, human, lips on lips kiss.
Later, after the fal-tor-pan and the awful excursion to the 20th century - whales, really? - and the revelation of Jim’s council meeting - “Mr. President, I stand with my shipmates,” - Len knows it’s time.
He doesn’t need to approach Spock. For one glorious moment, Spock had dropped the barriers between them, and the bond had flared to life, singing in Len’s mind, an all-consuming joy so sudden and fierce that it had very nearly brought Len to his knees.
He manages to keep himself upright, but only just, basking in the glow of Spock’s presence against his, so long-missed, so absolutely vital. They share the moment, both an instant and an eternity, and when Spock pulls back, Len has the sensation of falling into himself. He’s left with a new understanding and a contentment like he’s never known, save for the dull ache of desire in his deep in his chest.
He finds Jim, and he lays it all on the table.
Jim’s intake of breath, after Len finally runs out of words, is sharp, harsh, and Len is afraid, for one terrible moment, that he’s misjudged things horribly.
“Oh, Bones,” Jim breathes, and then he’s kissing Len for all he’s worth, taking Len by the upper arms and pulling him onto his toes.
Jim’s lips are warm and soft and familiar and right on his, and Len realizes, suddenly, that this is only the beginning.
It’s the most joyful thing he’s ever known.
Who kisses the others awake in the morning
Otherwise, it depends on who wakes first.
Typically, this is Spock. Vulcans require less sleep than humans, so its typically Spock tracing the curve of Jim’s jaw or the edge of Leonard brow, with his lips, with his fingers, with his tongue.
Sometimes, though, it’s Len. Len is a nuzzler. Len likes to bury his face in the crook of Spock’s neck and to curl his body protectively around Jim’s. Len kisses the hollow of Jim’s throat, the soft patch of skin behind Spock’s ears, running his fingers down their chests and shoulders, paying special attention to the sensitive spots on the inside of Spock’s elbows.
Jim’s a little more passive. On the rare occasion that he’s up first, he likes to lay beside his husbands and watch them. Len, early bird though he is, is a total bear when woken unexpectedly, and it is so rare to catch Spock unawares that Jim feels as if he’s obligated to savor the moment. Spock’s face is relaxed, the tension and sharp lines fallen away, and Bones, though he’ll deny it to his dying day, snores softly and smacks his lips in his sleep.
Jim wouldn’t wake them for the world.
Who starts tickle fights
Jim is typically the instigator of the tickle fight.
Len’s got a tiny spot just at his inner thigh that sets him giggling until he can hardly breathe, red-faced and panting, tears running down his cheeks.
Jim lives for these moments.
Len’s retribution, when he can finally manage it, is swift and brutal. Jim may be bigger and stronger, but Len is fast. He sprawls on top of Jim, long fingers extracting their revenge with all the precision and finesse of a highly skilled surgeon.
Jim Kirk begs for mercy.
Spock watches it all impassively from the corner of the bed, the gentle thrum of satisfaction that filters through their bond the only evidence of his amusement.
Until Len exploits his superior knowledge of Vulcan physiology, that is.
Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower
Surprisingly, this is Spock.
Jim doesn’t ask if he can join Len, not that Len expects it. He pushes his way through the sliding glass door, and automatically Len shifts to accommodate him, without a word.
Jim, though, is remarkably efficient with their shared time in the shower. He hops in, does his business, and hops out, dripping little puddles all over the bathroom floor and humming softly under his breath.
Len takes his sweet time. There’s something wonderful about the thrum of real water on his bare skin, and despite the environmental control systems on board the Enterprise, the vastness of space leaves him feeling cold and hollow. A hot shower is a comfort, and he savors it.
Spock is strangely drawn to Leonard during these moments. It’s as if something in the water melts whatever subtle barriers remain between them, and Spock finds himself dumbstruck by Leonard, Leonard with his eyes closed and his face upturned, lips parted just slightly, Leonard who’s completely oblivious of Spock’s presence, just standing utterly still and letting the water fall over him like rain.
The words, May I join you, are hardly out of Spock’s mouth before Len’s breathing a harsh, “Yeah,” and Spock is shedding his cloak and climbing deftly into the shower with his bondmate.
Jim finds them a long time later. “Well, thanks for the invitation,” he manages just before Spock yanks him into the downpour, shirt and all.
Who surprises the others at work with lunch
They all eat lunch together, when they can.
It’s actually an old habit. During the five year mission, Jim would often have his lunch with Bones in the sickbay, or with Spock, when they could both leave the bridge. Occasionally, when their schedules allowed it, they’d all take their lunch breaks together in the mess hall, Bones sassing at Spock, Spock snarking at Bones, Jim indulgently running interference between them (and often subtly egging them on).
Now, years later, the pattern remains. Bones still sasses Spock, Spock still snarks Bones, Jim still looks on in besotted amusement.
Some things never change.
Who was nervous and shy on the first date
There’s not a first date, necessarily.
After the kiss - it’s a particularly long kiss - Jim can hardly find words.
“Bones,” he breathes, eyes wide and a little bit desperate. “Are you sure? He’s -”
“Jim,” Len takes Jim’s hand in his own. “I’m sure.”
They wait for Spock together.
Len’s certain, this time. The look Spock had given him across the council chamber had said enough.
The bond had said everything.
The door opens, and there’s a beat of silence.
It all hangs in the balance. The past, the future, literal lifetimes shared between them.
“Spock,” Jim bursts. He takes half a step forward, then stops suddenly, as if reminding himself, “Be gentle, don’t press.”
“Jim. Leonard.” Spock nods toward them, utterly serene, his dark eyes giving nothing away.
Len feels as if his heart’s about to burst.
“Oh, god, c’mere,” he chokes, throwing his arms open wide and shoving all of his love, his wonder, all of himself toward the Spock-shaped hole in his heart.
Spock moves, the barriers fall, and the bond sings.
Who kills/takes out the spiders
Spock is the best at catching the spiders.
Len’s too busy harassing Jim. “Haven’t seen you jump so high in years,” he laughs.
“Could be poisonous,” Jim informs him primly, stepping lithely down from the dresser only after Spock has relocated the offending critter outside. “Better safe than sorry, you know, Bones.”
“I’ll remember you said that,” Len tells him pointedly, “the next time you decide to scale a goddamn cliff face with no safety gear!”
Jim does not honor this with a response.
Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk
Len is the tactile one of the three, and this is only exaggerated when he’s drunk. He worships his lovers with his hands and with his body, litany of murmured praises falling like honey from his lips.
Spock is seldom inebriated. In fact, he’s far more likely to act as a keeper to Len and Jim, silly humans with their silly love of recreational cognitive impairment. He keeps a watchful eye on the two of them, carefully concealing his indulgent amusement at their drunken antics.
Rarely, though, Spock will have a piece of Jim’s chocolate pie, or accept Len’s offer of a drink (Len never fails to offer).
Then, Spock becomes a wild thing, a Vulcan of the days of old, a physical being in the most inherent sense. Making love is an art and a science, and Spock, particularly when he loses his inhibitions, excels at it. The somatosensory cortex of a Vulcan brain is exquisitely complex, and that, coupled with the ingenuity and innate intensity of the human experience, renders Spock completely powerless to his own desires. He throws himself into his task, flooding the bond wide open and laying waste to his mates’ bodies with a fervor and ferocity that borders on primal, delighting in the heat of their skin under his.
Len, for his part, can never quite contain his thrill of anticipation when Spock’s fingers subtly brush his as he passes Spock the bottle of Saurian brandy.
Jim is the romantic.
Jim, when he’s drunk, serenades his husbands with classical literature, and sometimes, with old-earth love songs.
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help
Falling in love with you
Len joins him occasionally, when he’s had enough that the long forgotten lyrics come easily and he forgets the warble in his voice.
Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
They join hands, swaying a little with the rhythm of the music and the alcohol. Jim reaches toward Spock, drawing him in, holding him close, and Spock allows it, allows his free fingers to slip into Leonard’s, allows the glow of the moment to wash over him, allows himself the simple joy of just being here, with them, together, these two humans who he loves more than life itself.
My answer to your question depends on which way you mean ‘fetishize’.
Fetish (the root word) is defined three different ways.
an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.
any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades.
Psychology. any object or non-genital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.
Regarding the first definition… I’m pretty sure two people in a relationship aren’t ‘objects’ in a literal sense. And, personally, I don’t believe in magic in the real world, so you can’t mean the first one.
Regarding the second definition… I can’t really argue with that one. Mostly because my ships are ideas derived from a group of people. And, I do have respect and enough devotion toward them that I spend some time on this website sharing ideas and art with those who also feel this way. So, I guess, in a sense, it is defined as fetishization. So, on why I do this? I don’t know. It just makes me happy to talk and write about two idiots in love.
However, I don’t think you meant your ‘question’ this way either based on the very necessary use of ICK.
Onto the final definition then.
Now, in society, the word ‘fetish’ is widely and most commonly used as a way of categorizing odd things that turn people on. For some people, gay relationships are only seen as two people of the same gender getting it on and that’s it. That kind of thinking is what makes the third definition of fetish.
But, for me, when I look at my ships, I see two people who are in love and support each other as well. Sex is just a natural part of that love; it makes the love between two people stronger and more stable. No happy and lasting relationship can be made on just sex alone.
All these years of living in the light and reviling the dark; It’s the beginning of a chance or maybe a change and he didn’t ask for it but it’s with him at 3am on his pillow and he thinks that maybe just maybe he likes it.
Tarquin is the High Lord of Summer and yet here he is falling in love with a man born of shadows.
Tags: dumb stupid writing style i’m such a pretentious hick but the reality is my brain needs to sleep it’s 1am so suck it up kids, fluff, opposites attract, enemies to comrades to lover, tarq and az wanna save the world, canon compliant(ish)
Chapter One: Easy
The calling comes all too fast and all without Tarquin’s noticing.
It starts at the time when it most should not, in the wake of a battle that devastated the kingdom he has slaved for years to rebuild. It starts when he is faced with those who betrayed his trust and worse, proved to him that he really is as naive and incompetent as the whispers say. It starts at the break of day.
He sees him across the fields of injured, a quiet statue amongst the busy and the dying. They’re leaving now and he doesn’t even catch his name, only his image. The sight of him remains just long enough to spy the darkness that webs across his skin, the shadows that are at beck and call to him as war-hounds are to their masters.
He sees him just long enough to know the rumours of the Night Court are true; They really do birth monsters.
A name does not next follow.
Instead, fear is the next installment. It is taught to him with true mastery of the art, as he listens from behind a door as secrets are carved out a man’s soul. His court learns the names of traitors that helped Hybern in that night, but he learns that monsters do not have to say a word to ruin a man completely. There had been no sounds of violence or coercion, but a simple three act play: Silence to screaming to confession.
Yet, though the torturer’s efficiency is impressive, it’s not what chills the High Lord’s spine. That comes later, when he spies him on a balcony gripping onto stone and staring at his hands. There is something in his face, the way night wreaths around his throat, that leaves Tarquin hearing screaming, even when the only noise is that of the waves upon the rocks.
It scares him, to wonder what it must be like inside the mind of someone like that; A man who can undo someone in a breath’s moment wielding thought alone. On whom did he sharpen the weapons of his trade, and on which poor souls did he practice?
Looking at his moonlit face, Tarquin wishes the answer were less obvious. It’s easier to hate them when the monsters are not monsters to themselves.
The name comes at the High Lords’ congregation, though that is not what Tarquin remembers of him when he goes unto his chambers and and finds sleep is only catchable by dawn. What sticks around is just one moment, on where the facade breaks and it’s revealed the monster cares.
And as Tarquin sat there, watching the shadow boy destroy Eris for the sakes of one woman and one specific woman alone, he felt the growing tug inside his stomach. Mor does not look happy as she is fought for, a nauseous repulsion on her face, and yet he’s left envious.
He has lived a life of playing fair and smiling masks even in the face of the depravity their world inflicts upon those who deserve so much better. It is hard not to think that maybe becoming monsters is not such a vile response to monstrocity. It is hard not to want a little piece of that fury worn plain upon his face.
All these years of living in the light and reviling the dark; It’s the beginning of a chance or maybe a change and he didn’t ask for it but it’s with him at 3am on his pillow and he thinks that maybe just maybe he likes it.
His name is Azriel, and it sits on Tarquin’s tongue far too often these days. He mentions him in passing and in council meets and no matter how much disinterest he feigns when asking after him Varian still notices and looks at him. He doesn’t say anything but two months later, now the war is over, when Amren comes to visit she brings a man of shadow in tow and this time, when he says ‘Azriel’, the man looks back and he realises.
“Varian said you wanted my input on the new legislation,” is all the shadowsinger says, ignorant to the squirming it sets of in Tarquin’s stomach. He’s as cold and distant as ever until a soft smile breaks through and the realisation condenses. “I look forward to working with you.”
Long nights spent arguing and bickering and debating over semantics and rules and implications turn into long months, and Cresseida says it perfectly when she informs her High Lord, “I haven’t seen you look this happy in years.”
Happy is reductive of reality, but she’s not wrong. The passion for justice and good Tarquin grew up nursing in childhood did not fare so well in an adulthood of war and famine, yet with peace comes possibility. And there every step of the way is Azriel, a soundboard for ideas and innovation.
No one else has ever shared his drive for improvement like the Illyrian, although you’d never guess it from watching them. Where Tarquin enthuses and rambles and gesticulates more and more with every passing hour, Azriel is nearly silent throughout the evening. His delivery is calm and practical, if a little marred in dry condescension when Tarquin gets particularly over-enthusiastic. Yet each night he insists on staying up longer and longer to straighten out some new idea, to the point where one day they look up from their desk and reference books to realise dawn has split across the horizon.
“For the first time in my life,” Tarquin says as he watches the day meet night outside, “I think we might really stand a chance of altering things for the better.” A shadow drifts across the glass, and he looks up just in time to spot Azriel as he kisses him.
I really hope I’m not overstepping here, but the Ghostbusters ship disagreements made me realize something tonight.
We can all argue over which ship is the best and which is the most canon, but when it comes right down to it, this movie was just so gay that we all saw different ships. And all these ships have enough evidence that honestly if a sequel were to happen any of these ships could become canon and it wouldn’t feel forced or out of the blue. And I think it’s just so cool that we got a movie with such strong leading ladies and where you can ship any of them and it just works.
Ship who you want (personally I think they’re all valid and even though I ship one more than others I also wish that we could just accept all of them without argument), but let’s also appreciate just how blatantly gay this movie was.
(This is just my opinion. If you disagree, and it’s totally fine with me if you do cause I get that this is a heated topic, be kind about it?)
connor murphy x reader in marching band together? (i'm on the color guard)
Here you are, my friend! I don’t know much about marching band so I just used what little knowledge I have from my friends when writing this. Let me know if something isn’t accurate! I’ll be sure to change it!
okay i am shocked at how many people still think Levi and Mikasa are closely related. just seen some fool say “it was confirmed that Levi is Mikasa’s brother”. saw another person reason “ well, Levi’s in his 30s, he’s probably mikasa’s father”
wathefuh?? Bitch wher?? Isayama is a steel trap nothing like that has been confirmed!! we do know for a fact however that Levi and Mikasa are nowhere close to siblings or even father-daughter, but that they are of the same clan. the notion that rivamika is incest has long been debunked. But ill tell you right now, even if Isayama comes forward tomorrow and says “ya they’re closely related” im still gonna be shipping them!! tbh it would 100% not stop me!
we survived a 4 year damn hiatus and Mikasa was 15 all that time, you think now that she’s of age we’re gonna slow down?? teh fuk? you cant prevent anyone from shipping with your terrible ‘anti-’ logic!! I’m in too damn deep to stop here, get out the rivamika tag w ya hateful bullshit
I feel no person actually living in Europe can ever claim that there is somehow magically less racism here than anywhere else and not be blatantly lying?
What is “oh so different” in some places is literally just the language surrounding it, the coding of words and the general way some things are talked about - but the actual violence of racism is literally the same.
Okay, I was really sure I had already posted this snippet a million years ago (it’s from an older chunk that I had put in and taken out an dput in and taken out but which is currently in), but I can’t find it anywhere on my tumblr. If I have posted it before, apologies and let me know (and maybe throw me a link so I can tag the damn thing properly if I did, in fact, post it).
I have achieved almost 2000 words of progress on RR, not counting all the shit I wrote and deleted today, which was a lot, I will have you know. Who cares. Progress, right?
Sometimes I catch myself thinking maybe it’s not just me. Maybe everyone’s life is like this, and I’m just being a whiner. Everyone thinks they’re special, everyone thinks the universe reacts to them as individuals, everyone thinks their experience is the only experience like that in the whole wide world. Right?
So I developed this test for myself. I describe my situation in the most bland, unimaginative way possible – the way Zelda’s advisors brief her on the state of her nation. Then I can usually tell if this is one of those things that’s addressed to everyone or just to me.
The Hero of Time is currently situated at a makeshift camp belonging to the Guides, a group of supposed priests, previously believed to be a “Death Cult” (1), in the employ of the Angel of Death. Said Guides rescued the Hero and his companions from a bandit ambush and are harboring them until one group decides what to do about the other. Among their number, though external to their organization, are the Wanderers, which is to say the spirits of those dead who have not yet moved on (i.e., ghosts) and were called into service by the Guides. It should be noted that there are vastly more Wanderers than Guides. Among the Wanderers are the ghosts of Jinni of the White (who died and appears to have un-died as Jinni of the Red) and Ketari of the Sheikah. Unlike the other ghosts (2) encountered by the Hero, the Wanderers appear to have a limited degree of independence and cognitive awareness.
(1) Death, in this case, refers to the proper noun Death, meaning the Angel of Death, also known as the Makani Valdyx. The Guides are not dead (TBC), and while they work with the dead, they do not worship or raise them themselves. It should be noted that the Hero is in this region in order to kill the Angel of Death, a complication which remains unresolved to date. (2) Including Aeria of the Sheikah, the Hero’s deceased aunt who thought he was his father because they never actually met while she was alive.
To L, reads the label on this one, love N, F, & D.
clothes-sharing headcanons for some of my favorite shepard ships
tali wears shepard’s N7 hoodie over her suit and cowl sometimes. between ME2 and ME3, she steals one to wear while shepard’s under house arrest; it helps her miss them a little less
whenever they talk on the bridge, shepard steals joker’s hat and starts wearing it around the ship. sometimes he’s so focused on flying he doesn’t notice for hours afterward
one early morning shepard grabs a shirt from the floor and tries to put it on; they don’t realize until they are thoroughly stuck with their arms over their head that the shirt was not made for humans. garrus has to help them out of it–as soon as he stops laughing
sometimes when she’s cold, jack will take shepard’s clothes from their cabin and wear it over her usual getup. if anyone comments, she will throw something at them
after one-too-many shots on omega, aria finally gives in to shepard’s requests and wears some damn body armor. to make her feel better, shepard wears aria’s usual outfit around omega for a day. it works out fine until shepard flexes and the seams burst
Jonsa will never Happen! I mean there's nothing there! No lingering/longing looks or damn-it-why-do-i-love-her-sighs from Jon, no arm/hand grab and oh those parallels? They're just a coincidence!! Jonerys is the song of ice and firaaaah! Just ignore the fact that Jon is ice and fire all by himself. I mean there are so many PARALLELs! Also ignore the fact that most of them are anti-parallels But yeah. Jonsa is totally not gonna happen. Right? RIGHT?! 😂😂😂
This is meant as no offense for J*nerys- I’m sure this will end up on your tag and I apologize, I just got a new computer and am still trying to figure out how to reply without using Tumblr’s system! For now, please skip over this, while it isn’t anti it definitely poses questions/thoughts/opinions that might upset you.
While I agree with your sentiment with Jonsa, I’m going to have to disagree with that of J*nerys. Anti-parallels do a lot of good for those two characters, and while that doesn’t equal a negative towards a romantic relationship, that’s like saying Jon and Sansa’s anti-parallels mean nothing either.
Personally, I don’t think we’ll get Jonsa this season, hopefully next season. There is a reason they act like this, not for the minuscule moments, but in general. And I think it’s safe to say we might actually get an endgame, certainly not a happy one, but one nonetheless.
I’m fairly certain Dany will die very soon at the Wall, however that is only an assumption made on my behalf having read the books. Do I think she and Jon will hook up? Yes, I do. But I personally don’t think it will be because they love one another. Emilia has voiced that Dany is shedding her humanity this season, breaking free from what has made her empathetic and sympathetic. (Not exactly Jon’s type, despite being brought back from the dead with some harsher values) Kit said himself Jon’s rash actions will get him in trouble this season, that he will act and think differently, and we’ve already seen this. It’s not so hard to believe he’d sleep with a woman just because she’s attractive and they’ve bonded over her dead dragon- it’s entirely plausible two attractive people will fuck in the heat of the moment due to mourning or loss, it’s a well used tactic in many series- and none end in love.
This isn’t the same Jon back at the Wall that denied Mel because he still loved Ygritte.
And really It’s not hard to believe that upon meeting a beautiful woman he’d want to ‘hit that’. Almost everyone who has met Dany has, but that does not equate love. And honestly, not going to lie, having three men (Jorah, Tyrion, Jon) in love with her all at once is overboard. Classic white femme fatal turned mary sue.
Either way, it’s happening, but that also doesn’t mean Jonsa isn’t happening either. With all that’s happening show-verse and as we assume, book-verse, there’s no denying there is a sexual tension brewing between them, as there is a strong, well fed bond. I’m just hoping they aren’t playing with are feelings and intentionally leading us to think Jonsa will happen, only to tear it away. (And for those who would like to claim those who see Jonsa are delusional, I’d like to add that it isn’t just shippers that saw all this- hell, it’s the reason there are shippers. There is something fundamentally wrong in how they portray brother and sister on screen, by different directors, and all of it comes across as romantic. It says a lot on it’s own that so many have joined ship, or have declared their discomfort when watching the two interact. It’s because it is intentional, otherwise the fan-base wouldn’t feel such a reaction).
One of these days when I have time for productive things, I’m going to have to compile some kind of masterpost or other something for all of these headcanons because there are getting to be so many and right now they’re all just… floating in the void… who knows if I will ever see them all again…
(Of course that would require me to come up with some kind of organization system that’s not also a total mess and I’m not sure that’s even possible.)
Just poking because it’s always nice to discuss and I’m trying to get out of my political bubble
I’m looking at the terf tag just because I was curious and like why are you all so damn angry? What are they doing that makes you act like this?
I won’t identify the OPs but here are just a few posts I came across
“Trans people look fantastic! Have you seen them??? But truscum and TERFs on the other hand… Well they should probably just crawl right back into whatever nasty ass hole they came from. Those burn-lookin rats. “
“Drop the terfs down a flight of stairs”
“you can be a woman, happy in your womanhood, proud of being a girl, and love other girls without being a transphobic piece of human trash for FREE! wow!”
“ Keep terfs away from lgbt children. Keep our trans kids safe from hatred and bigotry, keep our cis lesbian kids safe from being taught transphobic ideologies, keep our children away from bad people “
“ This user is ready to beat the shit out of terfs “
“Instead of saying “I’m gender critical” you can just say “I’m transphobic” and save yourself a whole 3 letters!Or even better! You can say “I’m fucking gross” and save 2 letters!“
“ I hated “terfs” way before I knew what they were, way before I had any idea of what they say and think, and way before I had interacted any with them at all. A lot of people are exactly the same. It’s pretty embarrassing. “
“ terfs are actually thousands of cockroaches in a trench coat”
“My gender is valid and real and also Fuck truscum and TERFs and transmedicalists”
“ terfs are vile excuses for human beings and I hope they all choke! if you’re a terf don’t follow me, don’t interact, just fucking block me! terfs are awful and I HATE every single one of them! “
“ if i accidentally reblog a post from a terf/a post created by a terf, please let me know! This happened a few times in the past couple days, and thank you to the people who brought it to my attention. this is 100% an anti-terf blog, and if you’re a TERF, please get the hell out. trans women are women, case closed. “
“ hey can someone tell all TERFs that they deserve to be roasted on a spit and fed to lions thanx”
“ Casual reminder that if you’re a terf or tucute then you aren’t welcome here and you can go fuck yourself :) “
“ let’s kill all radfems and TERFs :))) “
What gives you the right to be the bullies? How does that make anyone want to help you? Why do you think this in any way helps your cause?
.. yes .. you´re damn right it is .. I just wasn´t prepared at all to see that ..
but what fabric/material is it? Black crocodile or snake leather ? It certainly looks like it would repel liquids .. has Victor Zsasz gotten tired of all the blood splatter on his clothing? You don´t really see them that well on black but they are there, with that waistcoat he can just wipe some off?
also the shiny surfaces goes so well with those couches in the Iceberg Lounge, the pattern is just different enough that he doesn´t look like he is wearing the couches. Has Oswald Cobblepot bought him that thing? Were they on a shopping trip? Shopping instead of killing spree just that things don´t get boring ..
Also .. if this is a thing can Oswald pls dress someone with the fabric of those gorgeous curtains .. ?
@praesideo OKay so lemme tell you about this cutie patootie!!! We honestly only started to roleplay not too long ago, but damn her muses has grown on me so much and I love them all to bits!!! The mun is a cutie and I just love talking to her; and her muses brings me so much joy tbh, they’re so adorable and well-written tbh uwu I just, it’s so great tbh <3
@fearbehindasmile HmmmMMmmm good shit right there, let me tell you! uwu This blog is just A+++, honestly uwu The mun is an absolute sweetheart and I’m impressed with the way they are able to handle sooooOOooo many muses, like seriously ;o; I think I have a lot of muses, but then she comes along with all of her OC and Canon muses and I’m blow away each time~ I’ve currently only rped with her OC muses, but from what I’ve read on my lovely dash then she’s pretty damn good at the Canon ones too~ So ye, I definitely loooove the munnie and her blog~
@unknxwnhxcker Another wonderful mun and blog I didn’t get to rp with before not that long ago, tbh uwu The mun is an absolute sweetheart (once more, what’s up with all you lovely people) fjlkewrgl and just, Mitsu is just such a good muse tbh, I love him a lot (despite how horrible he is, it just makes it better) <3 I’m so happy we got to talk and rp together, I feel really honored, especially because i kinda (stalked) looked up to them for a while ahahha~
@viclated Gonna talk about this cutie now~ Once again, I only started talking/roleplaying with them recently, but they are definitely both a joy talking with and seeing on my dash tbh fjweklgjeg They are so sweet and just, talking with them is so nice, I cry fklwjerlgk Just A++++ mun and muses tbh flkejg <3<3<3
@wearegodsandmonsters Another babe I only started talking with just recently and BOY am I glad I did~ The mun is a bae and her muses are just so GoooOood, though I’m totally baised towards Daisuke (WELP) <3 I really love our threads and I’m so happy and grateful that you approached me because I am only just a shy potato and I usually need a push in the right direction before I get a grip and interact with people fkljerwlkgjwegr <3