#i love men who think to much

[strxnged]

ALHAITHAM: # magic.

My secret santa gift for the illustrious Miss Ying @mlkbwunnies (AKA Mrs. Alhaitham)! Thank you for tolerating my poetic inclinations—I can't be normal about anything including your selfship. I am so glad to have met you in the last year or so. You are truly a light in the (many) communities you contribute to! I love being in your server and getting to chat with you and seeing your life updates on my dash. I hope this coming year is full of blessings and light!

Word count. 0.9k. Genre. cozy; established relationship w. a touch of magic.

Alhaitham was roused by the sound of music.

Nascent light of a sun hinting to rise cast a gentle glow on the bed he shared with you. His gaze fell on your bare shoulder. He felt a dreamy rise of strings, a melody of chimes, and his own heartbeat swell as he leaned over you and placed a warm kiss on your cheek. Though he meant for it to only be one kiss, he saw your beautiful lashes and flushed cheeks and he couldn’t resist planting a few more. “Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered. This woke you enough that you half-hummed, half-sighed with a dozy smile—maybe at him, maybe at your dreams. Smiling, he tightened his arm around your waist and gave you one final embrace before he slipped out of bed and donned a housecoat. The music was fading.

It was only as he shut the door to the bedroom that he paused, listening. The music had suddenly stopped, leaving him in somewhat confused silence. It was only a minor hypnopompic hallucination, a common and harmless occurance of post-slumber muddlement. Alhaitham was skeptical of anything deeper than this; he knew that the space between the land of dreams and reality was only a mental trick. Even on a magical day such as today, his mind was only playing tricks on him, he was sure.

Yet he was acutely aware of a sense of wonder. Would it… come back if he opened the door again?

Alhaitham set his hand on the cold doorknob, considering. He was the only one aware of this idea. Kaveh wasn’t around to seed doubt, and you would only think that he was gazing at you one last time. This was something that, at the thought of it, eroded any other concerns. After all this time, he couldn’t get enough of gazing at you. He turned the knob. 

You were still adorably bunched up under the blankets, fast asleep as he’d left you. But the music came flooding back.

Anxiety crept through his body. Perhaps it was a confirmation bias? An expectancy effect? If he closed the door now, the plucked harp floating through his mind would stop, but only because he thought it would. So he thought, determined, that of course it would continue, because that was how hallucinations worked.

The door shut. The music stopped.

It was all Alhaitham could do to step lightly as he sped across the house to one of the bookshelves—yours, which was filled with charming fairy tales, poetry, and anthologies of holy and magical phenomena. Neither of you were very superstitious, but sometimes coincidences occurred in this world that could not be explained by the comforts of science.

He set the book on the table by the window, turning immediately to the index. Slipping his reading glasses onto his nose, he dragged his finger down the list until he saw “Christmas.” He flipped to entries which denoted werewolf children, burning shoes, baths, pudding, elves—but nothing, to his comfort, about music playing in the mind. He was about to close the book, make a coffee, and pretend that it hadn’t happened.

Music, he thought.

Guided by the index, he journeyed through several more entries until he saw one that made his heart skip a beat.

Musical Fantasy: A misunderstood phenomenon characterized by hearing beautiful music in one’s mind. Despite popular conceptions, it only occurs when the one you love is dreaming of you in the early morning. These melodies can sometimes be heard by and channeled through spiritual mediums, and thus transcribed into playable notes. It is said that hearing Musical Fantasies indicates mutual, undying desire.

Alhaitham closed the book and returned it to its position on the shelf. As he brewed his coffee his brows were furrowed in consternation. There had always been a part of him that fancied mysteries, a part that was drawn to the magic of the world. It was against his best judgement and beyond his control. To step into the murky waters of the supernatural would mean to let go of his need to understand—to let go of his impulse to feel in control. He didn’t hate it—he feared it—he was captivated by it. Despite everything, he was intrigued. 

It was not too different from that shine in your eyes that had gripped him all those years ago.

He heard your quiet footsteps like a cat’s down the hall, and he stood, his chest fluttering. Music or no music, he needed to see you, and needed to feel your gaze returned.

As you stepped into the room you seemed to hit a warm, gentle wall. Alhaitham’s hands pressed the small of your back and your hair, drawing you into a tender but tight embrace. The music rang in his head, and yet it seemed to fade into the background when he felt your skin against his. Electrifying. Profound.

His breath tickled your ear as he said in that low, alluring voice of his, “I love you.”

Alhaitham felt you melt into him. And in that unique, familiar way, magic and logic coincided to explain exactly how he knew you were his.

Author's note. I must add that I'm pretty rusty at writing romance these days, so I hope you don't mind that I added in some contemplation with the magic component. Merry Christmas, Ying! And pass it on to your husband, too. (。・ω・。)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[knifearo]

this year my challenge for everyone is to unlearn the association between love and morality. love is not something that is inherently morally good, and the absence of love is not something that is inherently bad. sex without love isn't morally bankrupt, it's just an action. people without love aren't less kind or less good, they're just people. when we can get past this false (and often unnoticed) dichotomy of good love/evil lovelessness then i think we are going to be able to take leaps and bounds in sex positivity, aro advocacy, certain discussions of mental health...

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[thaern]

One of the many reasons to why George is my favourite musician and artist is the fact that even when he was raised in a small town with many closed thoughts he didn't let that or even the fame construct a image of him as utterly masculine and stereotypical, with his friends (different from Paul) for him showing love to everyone being physically close to them or hugging them no matter the gender, was something normal, a simple act of love.

Just like Olivia once said, George had romantic relationships with all of his friends because he was so full of it that it didn't scared him to show it, being making presents or just giving a hug, he did not let the fragile masculinity and conservative speech stop him from being himself.

And that, for a man raised in the late 50s is something to admire

[manichewitz]

actually abt to cry thinking abt the impact and popularity that yuri on ice had when it came out, how it won every fucking animation award it could possibly get, and it was so good that OLYMPIC FIGURE SKATERS used the yuri on ice theme AT THE LITERAL OLYMPICS and yet we’re not getting a season two or a movie. is this homophobia or am i crazy

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Surprise bitch! I was interview anon this entire time!

-----------

HELP MEEEE ok i see why i kept gettin asked if id seen this yet vjaLVJA THANK YOU SO MUCH

[jubilost]

i need to get him pregnant

[runespoor7]

Do think it's very crunchy that WWX only defends his new flavor of the month in the ancestral hall. Not himself. Not WN, to whom JC did arguably have a life debt and for whom WWX did dump JC. Not any of these old things; just the shiny new hot powerful protective dude that he doesn't have any meaningful preexisting bond with and that he's been falling for since returning and running away from his previous life.

Just the perfect, serene blank slate of novelty (and the guilty undercurrent of once again feeling something that isn't socially acceptable and won't be welcome).

[red-moon-at-night]

The Heart wants what it wants.

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I don’t understand it when people say that Carrie was also the problem bc she was anxiously attached bc like …. maybe she had a moment or two but for the most part it was absolutely Big being such a selfish prick and then justifying it w “ohhh I have commitment issues bc my last marriage fell through” umm ur a 45 year old BABY actually

[trensu]

ETA: now on ao3 as Hawkins Halfway House for Homeless Horrors

ETA2: now with an additional snippet

okay, how's this for an AU

We know that Steve wants to be a dad. Like, his literal life dream is to have a minimum of six children. SIX. who wants that?? crazy people, that's who. but we forgive him his insanity because he's sweet and will actually probably be a really good dad and there's not enough of those in the world.

the downer is that it's the late 90s, he's a (still) single guy in his thirties, and every adoption agency on the planet would rather give their children to a heteronormative couple who don't even want kids than to a single dude who would dedicate his heart and soul to giving his kids a happy healthy home.

He's bemoaning his fate to Robin at a bar they recently discovered. It's a weird little joint, kinda tucked away on the outskirts where Steve could've sworn didn't exist just last week. The patrons were kinda weird too but neither he or Robin could put their finger on why or how. If Steve had been a little less miserable, and Robin a little less caught up in comforting him, they might've noticed how everyone else in the bar kept sneaking curious glances at them or how they somehow always kept most of their features hidden.

They didn't though. Even when they were interrupted by a handsome black gentleman who called himself Jeff. Jeff said that he couldn't help but overhear their dilemma and that he's actually part of an agency that is more open minded about potential foster or adoptive parents. Steve's a little deeper in his cups than he intended, and doesn't question that some random guy in a bar is offering him a chance of having children. Robin is not as far in her cups and finds it a bit suspicious.

She was going to say something about it but Jeff looked her in the eye and said, "Everything is fine. There's no reason to worry. I'm only trying to help."

"You're only trying to help," Robin murmured back blearily. "Everything is fine. Yeah. Yeah, 'm not worried."

Jeff gives Steve his card and tells him he can stop by the very next day if he'd like, since his schedule is open.

The next day, Steve is regretting having gotten so drunk. Not really because of the hangover (though holy shit, he is NOT twenty anymore he needs to stop drinking like one). No. It's because Jeff had just finished giving him a tour of the facility full of rambunctious children in need of a home.

Actually, that had been pretty okay even if the other adults in the facility startled at the sight of him and the children kept ducking into other rooms to hide from him.

No. It's because Jeff had just introduced him to a child named Dustin who sneezed unexpectedly and somehow turned into a kitten.

"Um," Steve said. Jeff sighed.

"Dustin hasn't gotten back control over his shapeshifting since his mother's passing, but I assure you he's been improving."

"...shapeshifting," Steve said, numbly.

"Yes. Dustin tends to go for cat shapes, like his mother did." Jeff bends down to pick up the loudly mewing tabby kitten. "We've managed to get him to shift mostly into a domestic shorthair, rather than a cougar cub."

"That's great," Steve squeaked as he tried to tamp down the growing hysteria in him. "Really, really great. Y'know what, Jeff, this whole thing's been great but I think I'm still kind of drunk so I'm just gonna go--"

"No, wait," Jeff says, quickly placing the Dustin kitten on his shoulder before reaching out to grab Steve by the elbow. "Please. Look, you seem like a good guy. I did a quick scan of you and everything, and I really think if you'd take a moment to sit down and--"

"JEFFORD BILLANY JONES."

Jeff's shoulders hunched, nearly dislodging Dustin from his shoulder. He sighed again and turned to face the man storming towards him and Steve.

"Eddy, you know none of that is my name."

"I'll call you whatever I want since for some unfathomable reason, you've brought a human into my sanctuary. Why is there a human in my home, Jeffamy."

"Eddy, let me explain."

"It's Eddie in front of the human," Eddie said.

Steve's brain was experiencing some sort of malfunction because Jeff had been calling this man Eddie, except if he concentrated, the way Jeff said Eddie and the way Eddie had said Eddie sounded very very different except it hadn't because they both sounded like Eddie except for how Jeff's Eddie sounded different from, the same as, different, just like--

A pair of ringed fingers snapped aggressively in front of his face, startling Steve from an impending aneurysm.

"You. Who are you, who sent you, what do you want."

Steve stuttered something incoherent. He's pretty sure he's had a mental break from reality. There was some sort of sentient black sludge creeping across the tiled floor, wrapping a tendril around Jeff's leg.

"What is that?" Steve squawked. Jeff beamed at him.

"Oh, this is El! She's a Monster Under the Bed. She hasn't decided on a form yet, but that's okay, we love her just as she is."

"Jeff," Eddie snapped. Jeff looked at Eddie stubbornly.

"You told me we needed all hands on deck."

"How dare you, I'd never stoop to using boat metaphors."

"Don't distract me with blatant lies. Eddy, you said we needed help. You said you'd take anyone at this point."

Steve has not been able to stop staring at the sludge creature (El?). He's beginning to realize that he can't quite remember what Jeff looked like, or any of the adults they had seen. He's noticing that some of the children that have been scampering about had looked off. Like the boy with the bowl-cut they had passed by earlier who had looked...frosty around the edges. Or the girl he thought had had red feathers in her hair but is now suspecting the feathers were something more than decorative.

Ringed fingers snap in front of his face again. Steve finally focused on the man named Eddie who was actually named Eddie which was different from Eddie somehow. Now that he's able to shove away the confusion that is this man's name, he's struck by the fact that Eddie was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Steve's ever seen. He had wide, dark eyes that made Steve think of seabeds in the deepest of waters. His hair was a riot of dark brown curls that for some reason brought to mind swirling schools of fish.

"Answer my questions," Eddie demanded. Steve blinked and, with some difficulty, remembered the previous interrogation.

"Uh, I'm Steve. Jeff invited me because I want to be a dad."

Eddie barked out a laugh.

"Oh, is that right? In that case, welcome to Hawkins' Halfway House for Homeless Horrors! I'm sure Jeff would love to finish introducing you to the rest of our children. Have you met Mike? He's a ghoul! Or Lucas! He's a werewolf and his dream is to become a basketball star. They both have very sharp teeth so watch out for their tantrums."

Jeff scowls at Eddie before turning back to Steve. Steve was starting to feel faint and he was no longer sure if he regretted drinking the night before or regretted not drinking more.

"Steve, it's okay. Eddy is making it sound scarier than it actually is. You said you wanted to be a dad, and we need foster parents that can help these kids learn how to blend in with humans. That's what the halfway house is for, but there's only so much they can learn while living in sanctuary. We need a way to have them experience the human world more directly while still keeping them safe, and I think you're the solution we've been looking for. What do you think?"

"I think I need to sit down," Steve said thinly. Eddie snorted derisively. Steve was slightly offended but honestly everything was a bit too much right now and he really would like to sit down for a moment just to process. Because monsters are real, apparently, and some of them need parents. Which was terrifying to think about but also not so much? Because all kids were little monsters some of the time right? If Steve could have a moment to get his bearings...

"This was a terrible idea, Jeffathan."

"I think it was a great idea, actually. I really think this could work."

"No. I forbid it. Don't do this again."

Then there was a sweet and beautiful humming. It made the edges of Steve's mind go fuzzy and soft. He blinked slowly and looked for the source of the sound. Eddie stared at him intently and when he spoke, his voice was like music.

"Steve," Eddie said. "Steve, do you want to make me happy?"

Steve nodded dumbly. He wanted that more than anything in the whole world. He wanted to make Eddie smile. He wanted Eddie to never stop singing.

"It would make me very happy if you went home and forgot everything you saw here today," Eddie continued.

Steve made a sad sound. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget beautiful, gorgeous Eddie and this place that could make his dream come true.

"Please, Steve," Eddie's lyrical voice took on an aching mournful tone. "If you don't, you'll break my heart. I'll never be happy again."

The sadness in the song made Steve feel like the world was ending. Eddie couldn't be sad! Steve would rather die than make Eddie sad!

"I forget," Steve mumbled through the fog in his mind. "And you'll be happy?"

"So happy. I'd be the happiest man alive if you do that one little thing for me, my sweet Steve."

Steve nods again. "Okay."

"Good boy," Eddie croons. Steve felt like he swallowed the sun at those words. He followed Eddie as Eddie guided him through the halfway house. Eddie hummed his lovely song the entire way.

"Go home and forget," Eddie sang one last time as he helped Steve get behind the wheel of his car.

"Yeah," Steve replied dreamily and drove away.

--

The telephone rang shrilly through his apartment. Steve stumbled out of bed and picked up, only fumbling it a little bit.

"H'llo?"

"Steve, what the hell, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day! Where have you been?" Robin's voice rang out, making Steve flinch. He scrubbed his free hand over his face tiredly.

"Home? I just woke up," Steve said. It was weird that he was fully dressed, he thought dazedly, but it wouldn't be the first time he's passed out drunk in his street clothes. Was he wearing this shirt yesterday? He could've sworn he'd worn the navy one.

"What? Just now? It's like five in the evening!"

"Huh. That'd explain the weird dream," Steve mumbled.

"Was it the one where you get seduced by a giant squid? Because I don't need to know more about your weird tentacle fetish."

"I don't have a tentacle fetish! I had the dream ONE time, and I wasn't being seduced, I was getting drowned and it was terrifying!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Whatever, this one was weirder anyway."

"I find that hard to believe but now I'm morbidly curious. Hit me with it."

"...I don't remember."

"There goes my entertainment for the evening."

"Was there a reason you called, Robin?"

"Yes! I met this girl named Chrissy and I swear Steve, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..."

Beautiful. Steve had the faint impression of dark eyes and silver rings, but it was quickly washed away like a child's sandcastle in the tide under the onslaught of Robin's ramblings. As he listened to his best friend, he couldn't help but feel there was something he'd forgotten. There was something he'd been planning on doing today, wasn't there...?

...oh, well. If it was really important, he'd remember eventually.

[gingermintpepper]

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about lineage curses.

The line of Ouranos is infested with curses - generational malice that's sunk its claws in deep and cannot be cleansed. I think of it as a curse of love - an affliction that is something like a paternal equivalent to postpartum depression - the men of the line of Ouranos were, for a time, unable to bond with their children. Ouranos himself adored his wife but despised his children from the moment they were born. It was disgust perhaps. Or maybe plain fear. Or maybe there was no reason but a deep wrongfulness that he could only attribute to the birth of his new children. But he hated them and his hatred bred hatred. His hatred bred Kronos.

Kronos oddly, is the spitting image of his father. Why he would so exactly resemble the father he despised, who knows, but he married a goddess of the earth - the mirror image of his mother - he loved his wife and his people - the mirror image of his father - and, like that father, all his kindness and good sense died the moment he became a father. What was it about Ouranos' blood that made Kronos mimic even the method of torment? To lock his children away in the dark, cold emptiness of his stomach. To feed them the same doubts and fears that his brothers were fed as babes? What anguish paranoia must be to turn the Golden King into a shaking, spitting beast.

That, then, is the fate written deep in the blood of Zeus. Great king, destined to be overthrown by his children. Great king, doomed to live in fear of the son that would rend him limb from limb and scatter his sex to the ravens. Ah, but what is Zeus if not an enigma. That strange child fed on goat's manna and raised by his mother - is that the difference? That Zeus alone was showered in the hopes and dreams of his mother - that his father was nothing but a target to kill, an opponent for him to conquer. Is that why his curse of love mutated not to encompass his children but his lovers? What other name is there for he who eats his wife to gain her wisdom? What other name but cursed is he who pursues the stars until she becomes dead ground? And when he has a child who is his spitting image, dark eyed and blood-heeled, what can he do but hate?

(Zeus, at least, battles the demons in his blood on his own. Maybe that is the mother in him. Maybe that is why he swallowed Metis while she was still rich with their child. Maybe swallowing a mother restored that missing paternal hole all his father's line had simply been made without. Maybe that's what he tells himself when he looks upon his children and knows he's made things different for them, no matter how much he dreams of keeping them locked in a cool, dark place, pretty in display cases just for him. Maybe that's just his father in him.)

[lostyesterday]

I’m generally a Star Trek femslash person, especially when it comes to rarepairs, however, I do have a few het rarepairs that I like and think more people should give a second thought to:

Guinan/Picard: They have an intense and unique dynamic in canon and most of their interactions have such an enjoyable tension to them. Their mysterious history and the refusal of canon to ever entirely define what their relationship means to them is also very appealing to me. Also, have you seen their interactions in Time’s Arrow?

Deanna/Worf: I do like Deanna/Will (and especially Deanna/Worf/Riker), but I think Deanna and Worf together have such an underrated dynamic and canon really fucked them over by primarily ignoring their established dynamic when they actually got together. I find the idea of their relationship beginning in connection with Alexander interesting, but even aside from that, they have such fun interactions and genuine respect for each other and the actors have great chemistry in my opinion.

Jadzia/Quark: This is number one on my list of ships I liked until canon ruined them. Quark being obsessively in unrequited love with Jadzia all along was a bad writing choice. Clearly they were friends with benefits. To me, neither of them was ever in love, they’re literally just weird friends who have sex sometimes.

Janeway/Tuvok: It’s about the loyalty and devotion regardless of the circumstances. It’s about the intensity of their love for each other, the softness in Janeway’s eyes when she looks at him. I admit I like to consider their dynamic more with Chakotay in the mix (JCT forever), but Janeway/Tuvok alone is very underrated.

Harry/B’Elanna: I shipped them from the time B’Elanna first called Harry Starfleet (affectionate). I love a ship with characters who both contrast and parallel each other – they have seemingly opposite relationships with Starfleet and extremely different life circumstances, but they both work really well together and connect deeply anyway. Also best friends to lovers <3.