#need to think of a shipping name for them

[simp-ly-writes]

The Titanic

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.4)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord (not including yourself in the mirror), and you were ready to made that twenty-three days while voyaging on the Titanic... if only the Doctor didn't have similar plans...

─ · · TAGS: jealous!Doctor 👀, female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, emotional angst, ✨ tension ✨, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,169 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: I. am. so. invested in these two I swear-

─────── · · 

One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord, not including yourself of course while preparing your century-conscious appearance in the mirror this morning. It was the early 20th century- just ahead of world war one and part way through the second industrial revolution. 

City streets were covered in a layer of smog, cars were humming loudly past you and various city dwellers could be heard shouting in the early morning streets. Even with the ability to time travel you still found yourself late, pushing yourself through the mass of people at the port all there to catch a glimpse of the “Wonder Ship.” 

You listen as the horns blare, cheer erupt from the crowd you apologize and step around before finally making your way in life to board. Psychic paper in one hand, your TARDIS luggage in the other. And to think some don’t think to carry their’s with them, you smile to yourself, flashing the blank paper at one of the staff members. 

“Welcome aboard the RMS Titanic, Miss. (last/name). We hope you have a pleasant trip,” the young man greets you with a slight bow, “may we take your luggage to your room for you?” He offers, extending his hand to yours yet you pull back just in time. 

“I should be fine with this old thing, I think the gentlelady behind me might need some help though,” you tilt your head back signalling to the refined woman behind you and the array of suitcases her various staff carry behind her. 

“I will do just that, Miss. Smith,” he smiles at you and you mirror the same before making your way up the step onboard. You pause just in front of the staircase, luggage being supported by both your hands as you spin around in a circle to watch as the stained glass dome above reflects against the mosaic tiles and marble staircase. The carved wood beams and panelled walls are nothing short of stunning not to mention all the crystal fixtures. Humans… never cease to amaze me with their pure determination…

Looking down at your watch, the undocking ceremony would be happening in just under an hour and with that in mind, you made your way towards your room. Yet just before you could turn down the last hall a male voice called out to you, “Madame! Mademoiselle! Miss! Ah- Lady? Duchess?... Princess? Excuse me!” footsteps rushed in your direction before pausing just in front of you. 

“At some point I have been all of the above but its Miss (last/name) now,” you clarify while observing the man before you; watching as their shirt expanded and flexed with every breath, the man smiles apologetically at you, cheeks slightly flushed from running as a white-gloved hand presents a key hanging from a silk bow to you, “well then, Miss. All of the above, you dropped this in the lobby,” he explains. 

“Oh… thank you,” you take the key gently from his possession and tuck it into your pocket before continuing down the hall- pausing after a few steps hearing as he does not turn back, “Is everything alright?” you question. 

“Yes, quite. I was just wondering… do you drink?” You hum to yourself in contemplation. 

“Depends on what's being served,” you counter, playing with the stitching on your gown. 

“We’re on the Titanic, they’ve got it all,” he does his best to entice you with a dazzling wink. 

“If that's the case then… How could I refuse, Mister…?” you linger your words for an answer. It feels good being wanted, you think to yourself standing up that bit taller feeling as his gaze lingers on your warming cheeks. 

“Mr. Hartley, Wallace Hartley-” he begins to answer before your own excitement cuts him off, “the musician!- violinist and band lead if I am correct?”

“Most certainly so, It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bends down, pressing a kiss to the back of your gloved hand, touch lingering as he stares up at you before letting go. You feel one of your hearts skip a beat as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “...Can I expect to see you at the Lounge at seven?” he asks. 

“Till then, Mr. Hartley,” you give him one last look over before entering your room and falling against the closed door. Maybe I allow myself this one night to forget who I am… just the one…

─────── · ·

“Doctor! I have nothing to wear, we’re going on the bloody titanic of all things and I can’t waltz up on the deck wearing M&S!” Donna yells from her room, various articles of clothing thrown out into the hall as the Doctor emerges from the wardrobe in a full black tailored suit with a silk bow-tie to match. “Well don’t you clean up nicely, making me feel real good here spaceman,” Donna grumbles before throwing a shoe by his foot that he kicks aside. 

“You do know that the TARDIS has a full costume room… right?” the Doctor dips his head, whispering the information in an effort to lower his companions tone. 

“And you didn’t think to, oh- I don’t know, tell me that sooner before I emptied my whole closet?!” Donna stands with a frustrated sigh before walking past the Doctor and across the hall to open the suddenly-appeared door. She lets out a long low whistle at the multi-leveled room, each article organized and tagged by planet and era. “Why do you have so many feminine articles?” She picks out a Rococo gown, mesmerized by every pearl detail that glimmers underneath the warm lighting, “I mean this is just… it really takes your breath away, just look! Someone made this!”

The Doctor pauses, a frown noticeably forming on his face as Donna picks up one of your old dresses. He remembers ordering that very gown for you whilst visiting the Queen of France for the first time. He watched you spin and twirl underneath the candlelight, held you in his arms as you smiled brightly up at him. He could still feel your painted lips underneath his shirt before you buttoned it up with a teasing smirk that made him feel hot and bothered all night long- “Doctor?”

The Time Lords blinks repeatedly, “Sorry, what?” He clears his throat, standing up straight- refusing to look Donna in the eyes. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks, placing the gown back on the rack, concerned for her best-friend. 

“It's nothing,” the Doctor shrugs it off, starting to humm to himself while making his way ‘further in time’ towards the earlier twentieth century in search of something for his companion to wear. “I think we have a few options over here and shoes are just underneath. I’ll grab you a coat for the deck.” 

Donna silently watches as the Doctor flinches while touching certain articles of clothing as if they burned him, his eyes blinking away the smoke and ash before casting her a bright smile, coat and shoes in arms. “I think this is everything, I’ll be in the console room when you’re ready-”

“Doctor?” Donna calls out once more, heart pained seeing as the Doctor forcibly tries to stifle a pain burning from within. 

“Yes?” the Doctor pauses at the door, turning back around while staring down at his shoes. Donna pauses, eyes casting over the lanky man’s frame with a saddened sigh, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did-” he quips.

“Oi! Don’t you get all smart on me now,” Donna hisses like a disappointed mother watches as the Doctor's shoulders only deflate more. “Who wore these clothes?”

The Doctor stills, breathing and hearts stopped as the oxygen in the room becomes heavy in his lungs causing him to cough up an excuse. Donna instantly regrets asking the question having never seen the Doctor appear so… weak and small. “You don’t have to answer that!” She quickly rushes out yet the Doctor concedes. 

“They were- they are everything to me, the stars, the void, and time itself…” The Doctor opens his mouth, hesitating before killing the thought as it sparks, “we really must get going now or else I’m afraid we’ll miss the band playing,” the Doctor proceeds to storm out of the wardrobe, hand clenched into a fist that he forces himself to ease. 

─────── · ·

The Lounge is packed by the time you arrive. The undocking ceremony was… uneventful and took quite some time to move such a ship from the port that you left part ways. Wallace was already performing on stage, casting you a wink as you moved towards the front of the stage to take a seat at one of the lower tables. A crystal glass sat in your hands, a small plate of finger-food on the table for you to pick at as you watched the ice melt whilst tapping your foot to the beat, head swinging side to side- following the rhythm. 

You can hear the small conversations happening around you, the clinking of glasses and polite laughs but amongst all the noise a small gasp has you turning around in your seat, attention peaked to find a tall, slender, and very handsome man with brown eyes already staring back at you and your bond snaps back into place. Your hearts stop, you feel yourself sink more into your chair, rooted in place as the song begins to pick up with the shakes in your hand as if you're conducting it. 

With parted lips you whisper a name you promised yourself to forget yet never seemed able to, hands squeezing and threatening to shatter the crystal in your hand. Doctor… and the man responds to the title with darkened eyes and long strides over to you before being stopped by the ginger woman on his arm. You shake your head at the scene, of course! You laugh at yourself before forcing your eyes back towards the stage seeing as Wallce is already looking concerned at you. Want to leave? He mouths, eyes pointed towards the backstage door. 

You raise a brow, Leave, now? But you’re performing… you mouth back, setting your glass on the table and readjusting your gloves. 

Wallace only shrugs before whispering something into the pianist's ear and the song slowly dies out. You stand quickly, clapping with the rest of the crowd as Wallace hands his violin off to one of his band members and jumps down from the stage, sauntering over to you and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

You jolt at the touch, your skin coming alive with a thousand sparks trying to reach the surface and taking on the appearance of goosebumps hidden beneath your gloves and sleeves. Wallace places a hand against your back that slowly dips down seeing as the Doctor nears and for a moment you doubt your ability to see properly as the moment feels too surreal. 

Whatever rush you originally felt was met with an overwhelming sense of calm, as if you were simply resting underwater and being hugged by all angles, protected under his gaze. “Hello sweetheart,” he speaks softly, hand raising slowly to hover just below your chin yet refusing to touch. 

He watches you, waiting for you to reply, to pull him in or push him back like the tide. You press more weight into Wallace’s side as the Doctor studies you, Wallace’s head drops in order to whisper in your ear- asking if you’re alright. The Doctor’s hand twitches at the sight, the millisecond of a touch has you taking in a shaky breath and you suddenly feel too hot, cheeks flushed and throat dry as your body wants nothing more than to be near the Doctor, to try and reform your bond. 

You catch the fiery-haired woman's gaze as she looks between you and the Doctor in nothing short of purse shock and maybe a bit of terror. The Doctor’s hand lingers, slowly cupping your cheek, pulling your face gently closer, “you’re… so you,” his words broken and strained by on-coming tears, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful,” he whispers too quietly for human ears.  

Your throat is dry as you lick your lips, unsure of how to respond- you pull away from his touch, instantly regretting your actions by the wince in his eyes and the sharp pain you feel in your hearts. You force your gaze away and towards Wallace, “Mr. Hartley, meet my ex-husband, John Smith. Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Heartley.”

The Doctor reaches out and grabs the other man's hand in a firm handshake with dead eyes and to your shock, Wallace levels the Doctor's look, looping his arm around your waist with a stiff smile, “A pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

“Wish I could say the same, Mr. Heartley and now darling, ex-husband? Can we at least discuss something’s-” the Doctor begins to ramble, taking a step closer before Donna grips the back of his suit, “Mr. Smith! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

Yet you both don’t pay attention to the human, your reminiscent gaze now hardened by the Doctor's apparent nonchalance, “You would still be my husband if you didn’t try and kill me, darling, or did you forget already? Seems that's an easy thing for you to do,” you spit out the pet name with enough venom to have the fellow Time Lord stumbling back in shock and hurt before becoming overwhelmed in rage. 

“Forget?” the Doctor wiggles Donna's grasp off himself as he storms back up to you, pointing a finger between your two hearts, “I forgot nothing. Not their screams, the death and murders. Not our wedding and our travels and especially not the way you make me feel. How could I ever forget about the best thing in my life?”

You laugh, cackle even as you stand straight and walk out of Wallace’s hold, the Doctor's finger now pressed against your heaving chest as you shake with anger. “If this is how you treat the best thing in your life, I really must not know who you are anymore, John-”

“I’m not John to you, not now, not ever,” the Doctor’s tone is low as he glares down at you causing you to suddenly notice just how tall this regeneration is as he looms over you, enveloping you in his shadow. 

“You lost any titles the moment you kissed another, you lost me once you began dreaming of her, and you lost any chance to be together again when you broke me so irreversibly that the Master had to come and help me out of all creatures! You. are. a. monster,” you grip the lapels of his suit jacket firmly between your fingers knowing that you’ll leave more than just creases by the time you were done with him and everything he did to you.

“And what? The Master is some saint?! He killed millions without cause and you call me the monster?” The Doctor's jaw is slack, disbelief echoing in the shakes of his head. You can feel his hearts racing and watch as a few strands of hair fall against his forehead. We’re awfully close holding each other like this, you think to yourself feeling as his warm breath fans your cheek and the gentle yet firm way he holds your hips. 

You swallow deeply, the Doctor's gaze immediately locking on to your throat, lingering on a section he remembers kissing the sweetest sounds out of. A thumb now circles your side causing you to bite your lip before responding, “You’ve killed millions too and most certainly more,” you grumble, feeling yourself slowly starting to lose your anger by every circle he traces. I hate the effect you have on me.

The Doctor hums, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again with a wink, “and I would burn down the whole galaxy again if you simply asked me to.” 

Again? You question yet are too caught up on winning the argument to care. “I hate you,” you mumble, adjusting his crooked tie. 

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor whispers into your ear while casting Wallace a smirk as he presses you against his chest, “You’ll always love me and I’ll always love you, for better or for worse.” 

“What makes you so sure of that?” words becoming slightly muffled as you press your face into his chest, soaking up the pure bliss and protection you feel in the Doctor's arms- like all the pain and suffering I’ve faced just fades away, you swallow deeply knowing this just to be your bond speaking to you but a small part within begs it all to be real, but it can’t, not after everything he’s done, I just wouldn't be right or fair to all the suffering I’ve faced. 

The Doctor closes his eyes, grip tightening around you as he places his chin atop your head, “Because we both fear the same thing… the darkness being all that's left and waiting for us at the end.” You let his words linger in the air just like his touch you try and absorb before peeling yourself away, every step like a shot to your chest. 

Don’t go, the Doctor's eyes speak, his touch featherlight whilst holding your hand, gaze utterly pained seeing your broken smile that wavers on a frown and you let go, apologizing to Wallace on your way out before making your way to your room without looking back. You could feel the Doctor’s gaze lingering on you until you were out of sight and even then the ghost of his touch still haunted you all the way back to your TARDIS. 

─────── · ·

Donna was struggling to keep up to the Doctor's long and determined strides as he blindsighted the various ornate details of the ship on a mission towards the lounge. “Doctor! Doctor,” Donna panted, stumbling into his back in her heels as the Time Lord stopped suddenly. “What’s got you in such a rush? This thing is sinking anyways so I don’t think any of your enemies would be aboard-”

“I just feel something, can’t place my finger on just what it is,” the Doctor cuts his companion off, taking a moment to allow Donna to catch her breath before she loops her arm around his in an effort to pace his strides. 

“Well whatever it is it better not be a heart attack since I don’t know the first thing on resuscitating two hearts,” Donna quips while staring at the frosted glass doors before the Doctor bows, inviting her into the room with a teasing smile. 

“I’ll show you how to after…” his sentence dies on his lips after losing the fight to a sharp in-take of air when he hears a rather irregular but all too familiar heartbeat in the crowd. A well dressed woman somehow hears his shock from across the room and turns in their seat to meet his gaze. It was like two stars colliding, an explosion of feeling that expands his chest when he hears his title addressed by your very lips and a chill runs down his spine. 

He wished he had a way to record this moment, to remember it as vividly as he was feeling it, but that would just be a waste of tape, he thinks to himself seeing as you turn back around without a second glance in his direction. Your rejection stings, acting as if he was just another face in the crowd and to make matters worse jealousy fires through his veins in watching some musician eye you up from the stage. And with a burning passion to have you look at him again, his shoes take action, body twisting and turning through the crowd with polite apologies that too die on his lips seeing as the musician's arm works its way around your waist, a position he remembered fondly taking. 

The Doctor almost smirks as your body reacts before your head, turning subconsciously to focus on him and he drinks in your flushed cheeks and wide eyes greedily. “Hello sweetheart,” his hearts sing with utter joy as you are just within reach, his hand lifting to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass. 

Another jolt of pain seeing as you lean into the musician has him drawing in want, lean into me, my love, he internally begs and uses a soft tone to try and hide some of his desperation from painting himself to be a pathetic picture in your eyes. “You’re… so you,” he fails to hide his emotions as tears force themselves forwards, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful….” and you pull yourself away again and again from him, each time more painful than the last. 

And with every word that takes the form of a sharpened stick staked into his chest, he can only stand still and wounded as you walk away and return to being just another memory that he would hold on tightly to until he forgot how it felt originally. 

Feeling as if he is standing alone in a room filled with people, the Time Lords' only stream of conscious thought is on you, how you thought yourself to be forgettable and just how wrong you were. He scouted various dimensions and galaxies, practically ripping time itself apart in an effort to find you after he was done fighting off the remaining Daleks. 

A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of standing in his TARDIS empty handed and alone as it too remained silent, the pure agony he felt before the rage that followed when not even the screams of his most wicked enemies could calm his soul. He was vengeful for so long, 700 years of healing to only form a scab as he searched for parts of you in others. The Doctor shakes his head at these thoughts, too painful to bear in the company of others. 

“You know Donna… I’ve always had the worst luck in a black suit,” the Doctor tries to joke and distract himself yet receives no reply as Donna’s mind is sent reeling with all the new information she just bore witness to, the dresses, the stars, everything, she thinks to herself whilst peering up at the Doctor. Who are you? Who are you, truly, to have such an impact on such a man… the Lord of Time himself… Yet just before she can ask any further questions, a sliver of the vengeful doctor slips out. 

Wallace shuffles on his feet awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation as the over six-foot alien glares down at him, “I’ve killed more people then there are current stars in your galaxy and even if you did manage to get to her… you wouldn’t stand a chance for very long… you wouldn’t even feel it happen.” 

“DOCTOR!” Donna breaks their disguise, pure unabashed shock and horror evident in her reaction to the Time Lords threat. 

“It's true,” the Doctor adjusts his suit with a shrug, drinking in the horrified human's face with satisfaction before swiftly turning on his feet and returning back to the TARDIS with Donna in tow. 

“I can’t believe you would say such a terrible thing to that poor man, Doctor. That really was not right,” Donna tisks disapprovingly while starting to take off her jewelry and gloves into a pile. 

The Time Lord rips off his suit jacket as if it burned him, tie following suit as he unbuttons the top of his shirt with a sigh of relief. “You know what’s not right, Donna?” the Doctor rhetorically asks, hands starting to float across the console like he had done a thousand times before. 

“Is that without her, I would gladly watch this universe and every other universe burn and take myself away with it but… I don’t… So call me greedy, a bad man, pathetic, a villain, what have you, I simply don’t care anymore!- and that should scare everyone,” the Doctor smiles yet it does not quite reach his hollow eyes, that childlike enthusiasm seemingly lost. Donna knows that look all too well, she’s seen it across her own face and in the faces of others but on the Doctors… it just didn’t look quite right. 

Donna turns, grabbing her pile of belongings and heads to her room without another word. The Doctor cracks his neck before leaning down and tinkering underneath the console in order to distract his mind. Donna takes note of the small tremors in his hand before closing her door to the hall and leans against the door. I’ll find you, whoever you are, Donna commands the space in front of her with determined eyes as if she could will you to be in front of her, I’ll find you… and then shove you both in a closet together, she laughs to herself at the thought… Now just how do I find a Time Lord?

─────── · · 

─ · · A/N: God its gonna be so hot when they kiss... wait.. who said that?

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02

[mychlapci]

hey chat have we considered accidental forcefemming. this could honestly go for any of the rescue bots but I’m chasebrained rn so here we go. Charlie is looking for chase one day and is checking the bots little secret bunker when he accidentally stumbles on Chase in the wash rack (I’m assuming they have one somewhere down there, at least on their ship) and somehow only sees chase’s valve.

Charlie feels awful, forcing human gender norms onto his partner. he never even asked any of the bots if they were actually male (or at least the bot equivalent)!! he knows how Chase is, as much as the bot is a rule-follower, he (she!) is also a massive people pleaser. She probably just went along with the humans assumptions so she wouldn’t cause a fuss, poor thing. so, Charlie makes a plan: he’ll slowly get Chase used to humans using her pronouns (Chase gets so overwhelmed by change, he really needs to ease her in) and then he’ll tell everyone else!

…unfortunately, he quickly realizes he doesn’t actually use gendered pronouns that often when talking directly to Chase. because that’s how conversations work. so he plans again.

he often called Chase “partner”; so, when they’re on patrol and Chase points out a power line that looks unstable, Charlie says, “nice job, doll” (Charlie is def a guy who calls women doll and I love him for it). Chase’s engine spikes, but he doesn’t say anything. Charlie congratulates himself on his first step towards a happy partner. Chase wonders why his partner is calling him an inanimate object.

Chase does a little research later, and discovers the name is also considered a “pet name” (but it’s not a name used for human animal companions- earth is very strange indeed)…. usually associated with human females. Chase decides to brush it off as a slip of the tongue on Charlie’s part, probably caused by a long patrol.

But it keeps happening.

“Doll” appears a lot; “honey” a few times; “sweetheart”, twice, and both after Chase put himself in danger. Chase wants to pretend it’s not affecting him, but hearing his Chief’s voice sound so worried as he asks “you alright sweetheart?” definitely does something to his spark. and his modesty paneling.

Chase begins to covet his alone time with chief. Charlie is always softer when it’s just the two of them, always asking if he’s feeling alright, asking his opinion, complimenting his polish. Not that he wasn’t doing that before, but somehow, ever since that first pet name, it’s been….. different. Chase feels almost dainty with chief sometimes. He feels… sweeter. He likes when Chief pets his steering wheel when he’s talking about police codes, and when Chief pets his hood when he’s stuck in vehicle mode in front of civilians.

And as these things do, they escalate.

Chief is walking through the bunker when he spots Chase, rubbing his face with a cloth trying to get a spot off his faceplate. Charlie pauses, thinking about where his other kids are. He figures they’ll be gone long enough, and walks over to his partner.

“Here, let me get that hon,” he says, and he chuckles quietly at the little blue flush that appears. Chase obediently gets on his knees and leans down so Charlie can reach him, and as Chief gently rubs his car’s face down, he coos when he hears the little purr Chase’s engine is making.

“Aww, what a sweet girl”, he says, and Chase, a pile of goo, just gently nods along.

He’s still a little confused, but he also just shakes it off and lets himself relax under Charlie’s ministrations. If his Chief decides he’s a girl, then he guesses he’s just a girl :)))

[this is way less sexual than I intended but if we all imagine hard enough it will be. good night and god bless and also ignore all typos im painting my nails while typing this]

omg... chief burns calling chase "doll" is literally so hot actually. chase might feel a little offended at first, sure they’re pretending to be machines but the chief doesn’t have to compare him to a malleable inanimate toy. but after all his research and the tons of detective noir movies and books he watches and reads, he’ll quickly get the hang of human pet names. he gets it now, chief is being nice to him, he’s being affectionate. he thinks of chase as his girl, his doll, his sweetheart. so yeah, she’ll be the chief’s girl. his baby and honey.

[sainteclectic]

+ since it's aro awareness week, I'll finally unleash that rant on why the state of shipping discourse in this fandom bothers me

disclaimer that i am not saying you can't be uncomfortable with jashshipping!! I don't really like romantic shipping in this fandom either. this is just a commentary on the culture surrounding this discourse and fandom shipping in general. OK LET'S GO.

I've noticed this weird distinction people make between platonic and romantic art in regards to what gets the "jashshipping" tag added. it's also incredibly arbitrary what kinds of posts are considered "jashshipping" - is a qpr jashshipping? why not? they're in a relationship. why does it matter if it's romantic or not? why is romance the only kind of shipping seen as valid, either positively or negatively?

on a personal level, I feel this pressure to always clarify that I'm not talking about romantic pairings. qprs, close friendships and relationship anarchy in general aren't seen as jashshipping, and it feels like I need to preemptively devalue my queerplatonic ships by saying they "don't really count." I need to be careful about my work not being "too romantic" or people assume I'm "jashshipping." i just find it demeaning as a partnering aromantic person.

and this culture is why people who enjoy non-romantic pairings don't want them to be tagged as ship - because there's this implication that a ship HAS to mean romance. it shouldn't, but it still does. it would be great if we lived in a world where shipping meant any kind of relationship between two characters instead of just referring to romance, but we don't.

this is why I tag ship names without tagging it as jashshipping. because the nature of "shipping" in this fandom is always implied to be romantic in nature, which is what makes it the most taboo to discuss. so I don't tag it as jashship because that's only used for romance {or for what the fandom perceives as inherently romantic actions, which is another can of worms entirely}. but elevating a romantic ship to a higher negative standard is still placing romance above any other form of relationship. there's still a hierarchy in place.

I don't think ships as a whole {hah} need to be defined by romantic attraction. it's short for relationship, after all. to designate ships as ONLY romantic implies that romance is the only valid type of relationship. and to designate romantic ships as uniquely bad still implies romance is a unique type of bond.

{I also have an issue with the implication that dating what is essentially your headmate is selfcest by default, but that's another discussion}

TL;DR - I think the culture around what designates something as "jashshipping" should be viewed with more scrutiny. it's very amatonormative to assume pairings with any level of closeness is "jashshipping," and it implies a hierarchy of relationships even if that hierarchy is negative. jashship works as a content tag for anyone uncomfortable with romantic pairings, but to imply it's an objective judgment on what's considered romance is reductive.

[vesseloflukola]

Ha ha even GQ magazine confirmed that Luke and Antonia are together! Have you seen their Photo together? They look so in love, really cool couple. That are smiling and look Hot together! And after that great party, he spoiler her with pasta and other delicious food, some tv and lovely evening. You can't deny it! Just accept the reality that your ship is dead. Delulu level 1000000 Ship them because they deserve that!

Yes, anon…GQ Magazine confirmed that Luke and Antonia were together for the .2 seconds it took to snap the picture. They even put both of their names above the picture to confirm that they have names. GQ posted many pictures with more than one person in them. Are you saying by posting those pictures, GQ Magazine is confirming that everyone in each picture is together? How odd!

They do NOT look at all in love. Anon…do you even know what Luke smiling looks like? If you need a good reference, you might want to check out any WT video or nearly any pic that Luke has taken with Nicola. She, of course, is the woman who can always get Luke to smile (laugh, swoon, etc). I have never seen him smile with Antonia.

Anon…come on…do you really expect me to believe that Antonia would eat any of the food on that bed? She’s a dancer. She needs to keep that “girlish” figure. She SHOULD try out for “Love Island” though. I think she is exactly the kind of girl who would enjoy being on that show.

My ship is sailing at full speed, as always. Why don’t you worry about your own ship, anon?

One thing I find SO odd, is going to a blog for a ship you don’t support and spewing garbage at them. I would never think to do that. I guess that is because I prefer to use my brain power for critical thinking, anon. You might want to try it.

I am going to turn off my anonymous asks, because only the trolls seem to use it.

Anon, I dare you to come at me using your real name.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"I WANT TO HEAR YOU"

Another fic with Sergei (cause I need him so bad)

I hope you like it!

tags : @myesc8petw0rld

You just wanted to be left alone.

You knew it was dangerous to make a deal with them, but after spending months putting you on the ropes, you thought that was your best option.

You organized an emergency meeting at the city docks, a place away from the hustle and bustle with multiple exits in case things went wrong and you had to get the hell out of there.

You closed the door of your black Volkswagen and waited patiently for them to arrive.

You looked at your cell phone watch impatiently: 18:47, the agreed time was seven o'clock and they hadn't arrived yet.

As if you had summoned them with just a thought, you saw a couple of cars approaching where you were.

The one they called "the chimpanzee" got out of the first vehicle.

The nickname suited him like a glove.

His broad shoulders and face partially covered in tattoos, all accompanied by his serious face and aggressive expression, made him look quite similar to the animal that gave him his name.

You tried not to look nervous, but a certain man outside that meeting that you believed was secret, knew that the only thing you wanted at that moment was to run away.

Sergei could smell your fear, he saw how several drops of sweat slid from your temple and ran down your neck to get lost behind the fabric of the short-sleeved shirt you were wearing.

He had found out about that meeting after Calypso confessed to him that she was worried about you.

You were friends since childhood, and she had transmitted to the hunter her concern about your company.

She knew that at any moment those people would end up turning against you, so she decided to send Sergei to watch them, and in the process protect you as much as possible.

Of course, the hunter accepted willingly. He didn't know who you were, but if it meant taking out a couple of criminals along the way, so be it.

Since Calypso told him their names, he wrote them down on his list. And everyone knew that if your name was on his list, there was only one way out.

Sergei focused his gaze on you. His eyes lit up with their natural amber color, making his gaze widen exponentially.

-I don't know what you think you're doing, but this wasn't the deal – you were saying when you saw three other men get out of the second vehicle, standing next to the broad-shouldered man-

-The deal is no longer valid – said the one with the tattoos on his face – you lied to us – he growled – you said you had it and you don't, so now you have to pay for it

-I can still get it – you stammered, putting your hands together – please, just… a week… give me a week…

-We've already waited more weeks than I can count – he spat, taking a gun out of the back of his pants – it's over, I'll get my money, whatever the cost

Sergei saw in slow motion the exact moment when he pulled the trigger.

He quickly ripped the mast off a ship that looked like it hadn't been used for a while, and after climbing on top of a pile of containers, he jumped and threw it like a spear in their direction.

The man was impaled against the ground, and Sergei nimbly stepped in front of you to block the bullet before it hit you.

A grunt of pain escaped his lips as the shrapnel lodged dangerously close to his heart, but he paid no attention to it. All that mattered at that moment was that you were safe.

The other men stared at him with their own weapons raised, unsure of what to do. The hunter looked up at them, before brushing his hair from his face with a nod that reminded you of a lion.

-I have hunted your leader -he said softly but firmly at the same time-

-I will give you a five-minute head start, starting -he paused for a moment- now

They ran with all their might, but he was faster, stronger, more… more everything.

The fact that the bullet didn’t kill him gave you the proof you needed to know that he wasn’t a normal human being, but something else.

After giving them the advantage he had told them about, he quickly ran up to them and after taking out a pair of daggers from the belt he wore around his waist, he knocked them all down as quickly as he had come to your aid.

He put the weapons away on either side of his thighs with a flick of his wrist, before returning to where you were. His eyes scanned you up and down, before looking at you intensely as he asked:

-Are you okay?

-It could be worse –you nodded- I'm fine, but you –you noticed the blood that was beginning to flow from his chest- are hurt

-It's nothing –he assured you shaking his head- it will pass

-I'll heal you –you insisted as his blue eyes pierced you-

-You don't have to do it

-You didn't have to save my life either and you have –you retorted- I would say that we are even

-Actually –he began- she sent me, Calypso –he confessed, you opened your eyes wide- she was worried about you and the people you hung out with –he pointed at the corpses- now she has one less worry

-I can't believe it –you whispered more to yourself than to him- it's not possible that he did this –you continued saying, not believing what you had just heard- I don't need a babysitter, I know how to take care of myself

-IF I hadn't been here today, the bullet I caught by the hair could be right now in the center of your chest –he said seriously, resting her gaze on yours- you would be dead –he declared- and this conversation wouldn't be taking place –he murmured-

-You're right –you backed away- I have no reason to be angry with you, you were just doing your job –you said- this is between her and me –you paused, looking up at him- thanks for saving my life I… –you shook your head- I'm sorry for acting like an asshole, it's I'm not used to someone else risking their neck to save me-

-I understand -he whispered, holding your gaze-

-So you understand that the least I can do to thank you is to take a look at that wound, right?

-Yes

-Then let's go -you ordered after forcing the door of one of the vehicles-

Without asking questions, he took the passenger seat while you drove.

From time to time you felt his gaze on you, and every time he did, you felt the air become thicker and thicker.

The car was big, but its powerful presence and fibrous body made it seem small.

-Where are we going? -he asked when he saw you slow down in front of a multi-story building-

-To my apartment -you said- You wouldn't really believe that I would heal you in the middle of the street, would you?

-Of course not - he laughed as he followed you to the entrance-

You opened the door and closed it behind him when he entered.

He looked around the place, from the decoration to the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink.

-We'll do it better in the bathroom - you said, and as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how that had sounded and tried to correct it. -I mean… heal you, so we don't stain everything with blood.

-We'll do it how and where you want, dorogoy - he answered, playing along. -This is your house

You nodded, trying to quickly turn your head to hide your blush, but Sergei saw it despite your efforts.

Without saying anything, he followed you to the bathroom, and after asking him to sit on the chair you had there, you took out the first aid kit.

You prepared a needle, thread, and several gauze pads to cover the wound once it was stitched.

You turned to him again, his blue eyes locked with yours with such intensity that it made the ground shake beneath your feet.

-Can you…? -you asked, pointing at the brown vest-like thing that clung to his body like a second skin-

-Sure -he said, undoing the straps holding it up-

His chest was exposed to you, and you did your best not to squeal like you were fifteen.

His broad shoulders were outlined against the skin delicately. His muscular arms were on either side of his body as you watched him.

Sergei smiled at your scrutiny, while you shook your head and hurried to get some gauze to clean the wound first.

You wet it with fresh water and passed it over it, removing the blood that had begun to accumulate on it.

He didn’t make a sound as you worked on him.

When you finished cleaning him, you grabbed a needle and thread and rested your hand on his shoulder, so you could hold on better.

-Try not to move- you whispered, focusing on the wound-

He nodded and you gently slipped the needle under his skin. A low growl came from between his lips as he felt the coldness of the needle against his warm skin. You met his gaze for a moment.

-I'm sorry- you whispered, he shook his head-

-It's okay- he assured you with a nod-

A few minutes later you finished stitching him up and placed the gauze so he wouldn't get infected.

You washed your hands and leaned against the sink, running the palm of your hand over your forehead.

-I think it turned out pretty good - you commented - if it bothers you I can undo it…

-It's perfect - he said tilting his head to look at himself in the mirror, before focusing on you again - thank you

-You for saving me - you murmured, your eyes collided intensely again, you cleared your throat trying to dissipate the tension that was in the environment - so since when do you work for Calypso?

-I don't work for her, I work WITH her - he clarified - we are partners

-Oh yeah? - you asked surprised - And how do you organize yourselves, she looks for the criminals and you kill them?

-Yes - he answered simply - I don't know if you've noticed, but your friend is not one of those who likes to get their hands dirty - he said - they prefer to do everything the legal way, behind a desk, carry out the paperwork and other things

-And you don't like to go for the legal way, of course - you observed - you go straight to the point, directly to the point

-It's my job –he answered- I hunt people like the ones who tried to kill you today

-So it's true –you murmured- you are the famous hunter

-Yes, but that's the name that appears in the newspapers –he whispered- I prefer Kraven

-Kraven? –you questioned- it sounds good, very musical

He laughed, the sound reverberated through the room making goosebumps all over your skin.

-The idea is that it sounds threatening - he confessed looking at you, while sketching an amused smile-

-Oh, it sounds very threatening, don't get me wrong - you countered - if I didn't know you I would be scared shitless

-You should still be even if it is like that - he whispered, his voice had dropped two octaves - sometimes I can be a little… unstable, very territorial with what's mine

The way he said it made a shiver run down your spine until it reached the back of your head.

-What do you mean by what's yours? -you asked-

His eyes shone amber as he said:

-You –he answered quickly, making your face heat up- I've seen the sparkle in your eyes every time you look at me –he whispered slowly getting up, taking a couple of steps towards you- I've felt your gaze on me when you thought I wasn't looking –he took another step, your back hitting the sink cabinet-

You sighed at his closeness. He was so big, tall and strong…

-I know how much you want this –he whispered placing both hands on the sides of your body- I can see how the pulse in your neck beats fast, and how your pupils have dilated when I've gotten closer, so tell me –he murmured outlining a half-smile- Is this what you want?

-Please…. –you begged wetting your lips nervously- stop torturing me

That was all the answer he needed to finally cover his mouth with yours.

The kiss was messy and needy, your tongues tangling desperately as you pulled at the strands of his hair between your fingers, and he held you by the waist with one hand to place you on the furniture.

His hands went to your hips to take off your pants while still kissing you. You also got rid of your clothes quickly.

You dug your nails into his back as he entered you. The way he stretched you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

-You’re so wet, dorogoy, taking my cock so well… -he growled as he began to thrust against you- I knew it would be like this, so desperate… -you gasped as he brushed your clit with the tip- That’s it, scream for me prekrasnyy, I want to hear you

You did.

You both finished at the same time, accompanied by gasps and several moans from both of you.

Afterwards you snuggled up on the couch and fell asleep listening to the sound of the rain hitting the windows of your apartment.

[starrycrim]

winddown doodle before sleep, been thinking about this ship more often lately <3

[upon-the-snow]

early mornings after nightmares

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

What can I even say here to redeem myself

[verecunda]

Well, yeah, it was a bit galling to go from what seemed to be a good-natured exchange to suddenly seeing that in the tags, especially since it seemed to suggest I was saying things that I really wasn't.

And like, I get it. We're all guilty of being a bit intense about all this fictional stuff on Tumblr dot com. And I'm not blameless: I think my response to your initial reblog came off rather snippy, so I can understand if that put you on the defensive. That wasn't my intention, so I'm sorry for that. I was genuinely curious - baffled, but curious. (Also sarcasm is kind of my default setting, and that can be hard to modulate online sometimes. :\) Maybe I should have left well enough alone, but it just happened that I'd been thinking/posting about Eönwë and Sauron, then I saw your post, and it made me go "???".

I think there's a disconnect here between how different people enjoy Sauron as a character. You're fascinated by the sympathetic traits he exhibits, whereas others - myself included - enjoy him precisely because he's a bastard. (I was posting about this the other day, actually - literally reading about one of his worst acts made him my favourite character!) And it can be frustrating to see people trying to gloss over these aspects of him, because it's removing what, to me, is one of the most fundamentally appealing things about the character.

But that doesn't mean that we don't see or acknowledge his good qualities, it's just that - speaking personally, anyway - they're vastly outweighed by the bad things he does. And to me, that gives him a fairly tragic dimension, the fact that he has all these admirable qualities and this capacity to do so much good, yet he ends up squandering it all in doing evil. And that juxtaposition between his good qualites and his evil deeds makes him even more compelling.

And from just a general show-watching standpoint, it can be quite frustrating to see these takes about how ROP should give him a redemption arc or whatever. Because that's not what the show is about. It's a prequel to an existing story: we already know the end, we know that Sauron is going to end up getting worse and become the Dark Lord in Barad-dûr, we're just following his journey to becoming that. If people are resistant to the idea of Sauron being redeemed, it's probably not because they believe that he's 100% no-nuance evil, but more because they know that that's simply not the story the writers have set out to tell. And yeah, it can get annoying to see people demanding that the showrunners throw out the actual LOTR story (which is what we're here for in the first place) just to cater to a small minority of fans.

But that doesn't mean you can't have fun in fandom playing with the idea. That's why we have AUs! Fandom is the space for going, "Okay, but what if he was redeemed?" I have ideas for stories about un-evil Mairon and Melkor in Almaren, or Mairon recovering in Valinor after accepting Eönwë's offer. It's a fun idea, and good to explore, but that's for fandom. It's emphatically not what the show itself is setting out to do, and getting the two mixed up is a recipe for disappointment.

So... yeah, that's my position. I hope it makes sense.

Also, Angbang is a wonderful ship, and I totally get the urge to yell about it at length. :) And I don't think you need to have a single unified view of it - again, that's the great thing about fandom, you can explore different options! I know, in general, I tend to write them having a more or less positive relationship - even monsters can love! - but Sauron's unhinged monologue in the show about their "contest of wills" had me giggling and kicking my feet. Both are good.

(PS. my name's not actually Vere, but it serves for online nonsense. :P)

I don't like that weird perspective some of the fans...The POV where literally EVERYBODY in Tolkien's Legendarium, including orcs and even Morgoth, are"so poor, miserable, tormented and good&sweet inside...EXCEPT SAURON!!!! HE IS THE ONLY EVIL IN THIS WORLD. HE HAS NO HEART, NO LOVE INSIDE, NO SOUL, NO EMOTIONS [EXCEPT HATE]."

Like everyone else is worthy of love and life, and redemption...But NOT HIM. NOT FUCKING SAURON!!! JUST DIEEE YOU FUCKING IREEDEEMABLE MONSTER!!!".😶‍🌫️

I don't like that point of view. At all.😒😒 😬😬😬 IT'S REALLY AWFUL! Take all the sins/evil of the whole world to the account of one person...Especially when I personally see MANY acts of goodness from ROP!Sauron...🙄

[v4guelyv4mpiric]

Time embraces Death

close ups and lineart under the cut !! this took over five hours...

[vampirehollie]

The truth is, I don't know what I'm ready for, but I am ready for something. And-and I think maybe that something could be with you.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz makes a deal with Desiree after finding her brother in their parent’s basement. And it’s not a pretty sight.

Her deal: Desiree gets a slightly longer leash (in a matter of speaking) as long as Danny and Jazz are safe. (Or something like that. Point is, she made a deal)

I wish this never happened and that Danny and I were safe somewhere else!

There’s a snap of fingers, a bright flash, then she’s outside in an unfamiliar city with sirens blaring and people wailing as a scarecrow runs by with some sort of gas, chased by someone dressed like Vlad adjacent except all black with a weird looking bat symbol on his chest.

Not normal, but also not the weirdest thing she’s seen.

But there’s no sign of Danny.

Desiree looks at Jazz and smiles bitterly, “I never said you’d be safe together.” And disappears.

Meanwhile, Danny wakes up screaming in an alley until he realizes he is not in pain and somehow has no wounds from their parents. His screams attract the attention of a man walking by, who comes to investigate, Danny decides to go invisible right in front of him which was dumb but he was injured just a couple seconds ago so cut him some slack. It really should have freaked the guy out, but he just has an astonished look on his face before also turning invisible.

Or: Jazz is sent to Gotham and Danny is sent to Coast City. Jazz becomes an unwilling part of scarecrow’s scheme (could be any villain) and is saved by a bat (any bat, although I prefer Red Hood or Robin) and Danny accidentally showed Martian Manhunter his powers.

Could work with Superman too in Metropolis. He could pick up a dumpster and throw it at Clark and Clark would calmly catch it while Danny is babbling/apologizing for getting scared and throwing something that could have killed the man, then slowly everything clicks and he disappears, leaving Clark Kent to investigate.

(Also background: Danny has just been told he will be the future Ghost King in this and Jazz was told by Clockwork that she would have a difficult decision and a difficult future in store but that it will be good for them and for the realms. Jazz doesn’t believe in fortune tellers, especially vague ones and says so to Clockwork’s face which cracks a smile. I’d personally write it as a Hardcover ship, but honestly if anyone wants to yoink this and do something else with it, I’d be okay with that too!)

[icantgobacktoprison-blog]

Oh no! you've activated the lore dump 🤣.

First, I'm not an artist, so unfortunately, I have no proper visual representation of my OC. I can describe how I see her in my mind, though; She's pretty but plain, not drop-dead gorgeous. She had a round face and small but pouty lips; her eyes were large and dark green, and dark, tired bags had formed underneath from lack of sleep as she often found it hard to sleep in the facility, frequently haunted by nightmares. She has dark brown wavy hair, which she tends to keep in a loose braid over one shoulder, never entirely having developed the skills to do much else with it. Aside from the occasional touch of Rouge on her cheeks and lips, she doesn't wear makeup to try to brighten up her face, which has grown rather pale from the lack of sunlight and sleep. She's also almost always depicted in her pink and white candy striper dress uniform.

Her name is Loretta or Lottie to her friends and she's an Coylexoc ship. The dynamic is not healthy at all, he's got an obsession with her and she's just scared and utterly confused by her attraction to him. She plays the role of a candy striper in the facility at first just doing deliveries and helping doctors, she's told to be a beacon of hope and symbol of normalcy, expected to smile and be kind and polite. At first her only interaction with the Prime assets were deliveries, but allegedly pleased and impressed with how she handles the prime assets Easterman tells her that he thinks she should attempt to befriend them to represent a friendly face that it would be beneficial to their therapy to have a friend who wasn't strictly a guard or medical staff.

Coyle was instantly fascinated by her, mostly because she was one of the rare pretty faces he could find in the place; plus, he liked how he could make her squirm nervously. It was fun for him. It wasn't until he spoke to one of the guards and dug a little deeper that his obsession began. Lottie had arrived at the facility after the death of her husband; he had died in a car accident during a thunderstorm; lightning had hit a tree on the side of the road and sent it crashing into the car. Lottie had been in the passenger seat. Coyle interpreted that as the lightning being the righteous justice of God, reaching down from the heavens and smiting her husband; indeed, he must have been some kind of no-good commie criminal and deserved it logically, which meant that Justice itself had brought Lottie to him and they were meant to be together. This idea was only further cemented in his mind when a group of disgruntled reagents managed to drag Lottie into a trial, to make her face what they had to face, Coyle had found her there in the dark and mistaken her for on of the reagents trying to mess with his evidence he had her on the ground sending electric currents into her chest before he realized his mistake. Now not only had Lottie faced the electric god and lived to tell about it, but she sported a large scar in the middle of her chest like a brand that marked her as his. Everytime he sees her he's always trying to touch her, keeping some form of physical contact it's both affection and an assertion of dominance.

Lottie is genuinely doing her best to survive; her feelings for Coyle are a mixture of total disgust and a curious attraction. She likes how he looks at her like she's the only thing in the world and he needs her; she likes feeling needed and wanted, yet she's ashamed and frightened of her attraction to him and doesn't want anyone to know about it.

Of course, ulterior motives exist for her presence in the facility, though she has yet to discover that fact. She's actually the product of a long-running experiment; she believes her mother died in childbirth when, in reality, her mother was a severely mentally disturbed and institutionalized woman who was inseminated to have a child for the sole purpose of studying the hereditary development of mental conditions should that child be raised in a separate environment. Lottie, without knowing it has technically belonged to murkoff her whole life, even her late husband whom she loved and she believed loved her, was an employee who was meant to monitor her. Eastermans true purpose to having her interact with the prime assets is simply another part of the study, he is also well aware of what is happening with her and Coyle and feels no need to put an end to it, seeing it as merely a fascinating development in her case.

Eventually Lottie is going to learn the truth but even if not sure how that's going to go yet.

Tapping on my microphone again hello Trials Nation. I'm kicking my legs and laying on my stomach while I ask yall to tell me about yalls oc x canon ships!

I love oc x canon to death and wanna interact with more of the side of the fandom that indulges in that silliness. So please, blab at me! Show me your ocs and tell me about who they're kissing and their dynamic!

[starrysharks]

yeah boy and doll face

[basket-of-loquats]

homecoming

[qiu-yan]

as a jc stan it's now time for my shot at the obligatory shipping poll