‘Ship List (Why are we fascinated by romance and sex?)

Wrote this on Tumblr:

Because I have the uncanny ability to transform myself back into a 16 year old girl, here’s a list of ‘ships:

Old ‘Ships

Cid Highwind/Tifa Lockheart – I can’t for the life of me remember why. I think it was this epic, amazing fanfic I read years ago.

Reeve Tuesti/Yuffie Kisaragi – Because they’re total opposites but they used to hang out when he was Cait Sith and he’s a hot dude in real life and eventually she turns 18 and he needs to lighten the fuck up and she’s the head of his core of spies anyway.

Auron/Rikku – Gross gross gross, but I read this amazing fanfic about it. I am gross.

Auron/Braska/Jecht – Because they are the slashiest.

Cloud/Zack – Practically canon. (Cloud/Sephiroth was so overdone it made my eyes roll to the back of my head.)

Discord/Ares/Strife/Deimos – Why? Because they’re incestuous as fuck and it’s just a fact.

Andrew/Warren – Why? Because it was practically canon. (Ok, so Andrew’s abiding fucked up love was canon. Warren’s was not.)

Buffy/Spike – Because it was toyed with so long and then happened in Season 6 and I and everyone cheered at yet another fucked up but amazing ‘ship.

Angel/Spike/Drusilla/Darla –  (But Angel and Spike have never been intimate! Apart from that one time…)

Xena/Ares – Because even Xena and Gabrielle’s love can’t erase the oodles of UST that was, in fact, canon. Ares’ abiding fucked up love for Xena was canon. Xena’s occasional make-outs with him were, too. Come on, people. You can hate him all you want, but they are smoking hot together. (RIP Kevin Smith)

Frodo/Sam – Because they have been slashy since 1954.

Merry/Pippin – Because incest is best.

Ford/Arthur – He rescues Arthur from the Vogons and then endures his bullshit for years. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. (Platonic love, but Ford’s pansexual in my head!canon, anyway.)

Moderately Old ‘Ships

Starbuck/Leoben – Because it is impossible for me to like any pairing that’s remotely healthy.

Baltar/Every Six ever, but mostly Caprica – Because it is impossible for…etc etc, see above. And it was canon anyway.

Luigi/Amber – Obscure movie. More incest. So wrong. Very likely. (Not if you used to read “Luigi’s” old Twitter feed, however, where he pretty much explicitly stated Pavi was just kidding.)

Doctor/Romana – Because it happened, dammit! Even if it’s not canon, we know it was. But that’s probably because he acted ‘shippy with Lala Ward ‘cuz they were married. (Fun Fact: Lala Ward and Baker divorced. Later she married Richard Dawkins. Yes, big time atheist guy. I sort of met him one time.)

Doctor/Sarah Jane – Didn’t happen, but now we know she was in love with him her whole life. Sarah!! /hugs

Doctor/Rose – Because it’s canon and they’re darling. But now I want to punch them in the face. Yes, we know, we know. Your true loves are, basically, your late wife (I assume), Rose and your new wife. (And River will pretty much out-do the other two because she’s stuck in an epic time loop with you.)

Doctor/Donna – Because it squicks everyone in Doctor Who fandom ever.

Doctor/Amy – Because we were all in denial and that’s why fanfiction exists anyway.

Doctor/Master – Because it’s obvious.

Xev/Stan – Because someone has to squick out everyone else in the world, and that person is me. This would even squick out Xev and Stan, and Stan spent the entire series trying to get her to fuck him. I think the shock of her actually doing so would do him in.

Fairly Recent ‘Ships

Jeff/Annie – Because it’s canon and it needs to happen for real and I suspect the show will end with it happening but it’ll really end with Jeff/Britta happening and I will cry.

Regina/Jefferson – Because it happened, dammit! And if not, it still happened in my fanfiction.

Brodie/Carrie – Because I can’t ever like a functional couple ever.

Annie/Mitchell – Because they were a lovely, tragic couple and now they’re both dead and make me cry.

Hal/Cutler – Totally banged once. It was rough and there was biting but Cutler loved it. Yup. I should write that fanfic.

Eric/Sookie – I am unapologetically Team Eric, which is pointless now since Bill is a demon and it’s obviously Team Eric from here on out, so…

Jaina/Thrall – Come on. Totally tragic.

Rincewind/anyone – Because that guy deserves to get laid.

EDIT!

Nick/Jess, from New Girl!

EDIT2!

Nancy/Andy, from Weeds – Because of their bond…which was sooo dysfunctional

Bernard/Fran, from Black Books – Because it’s criminal

Roy/Jen, from The IT Crowd – Because it would never work but I wrote fanfiction anyway

Tim/Daisy, from Spaced – Because it’s quirky love

Vince/Howard, from The Mighty Boosh – Because they’re slashy

Jess/Jason, from True Blood – Because they…they…They care about each other and are drop dead gorgeous! (Also, apparently, Jess got over her hymen issue with him. Um…Retcon, maybe.)

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Rincewind’s sex life and I’m an awful person

I wrote before that there wasn’t much more mention of Rincewind’s love life than his potato fixation and past orgasms sometimes happening “with company.” (But no orgasm ever approximated that of magic actually coursing through him.)

I rediscovered the subplot in Sourcery where he falls in love with Conina but she’s oblivious and ditches him for Nijel.

During that book, Rincewind pretty much looks back like, “You used to bang chicks. What happened?” And is also head over heels for the girl.

But when she experiences love at first sight with Nijel, the narrator makes this comment that Rincewind felt he’d long ago passed this sort of thing by.

I think he used to bang chicks before Unseen University but never fell in love.

I am writing ‘fic about it.

I am awful, because instead of writing funny adventures through Ankh Morpork of him getting chased off by various things like fathers, brothers and husbands…(Golems? Vampires? I dunno. He spent his whole life running, it’s said.)

I wrote something about his mother and his childhood, and perhaps it will be about women, and that’s the entire theme as well as vignettes.

Trying to think of the theme of “running,” I had this idea that one lady would con him and steal all his money, one’s husband would try and get with *him*, and another lovely girl he finally falls in love with seems to be cursed and horrible things keep befalling him until she moves away.

I’ve already written a chapter where a girl uses teenage him just to lose her virginity, a “seamstress” gives him some unusual lessons, and finally he gets caught with a girl with an oral fixation resulting in her father and brothers chasing him over the rooftops. Unfortunately I’ve only figured out how to write the sex scenes.

And for some reason I went over and over them with a fine-toothed comb, trying to make them realistic and seem like real people. It’s weird, though, because I haven’t had sex in ages, and striking a balance between being disrespectful to, well, the books, and being porny, but not too porny, but just porny enough, is something I’ve been obsessing over this week and really shouldn’t be.

La la la…

Would you date a barbarian warlord, or a hair dresser? And what does Luggage get up to?

From Sourcery, by Terry Pratchett, page 115

[Conina and Rincewind have been captured and entered the Seriph’s garden. They talk about paradise and he explains men dream it’s got sherbet and women.]

A sword prodded [Conina] in the small of the back, and the two of them set out along the ornate path toward a small domed pavilion surrounded by olive trees. She scowled.

“Anyway, I don’t like sherbet.”

Rincewind didn’t comment. He was busily examining the state of his own mind, and wasn’t happy at the sight of it. He had a horrible feeling that he was falling in love.

He was sure he had all the symptoms. There were the sweaty palms, the hot sensation in the stomach, the general feeling that the skin of his chest was made of tight elastic. There was the feeling every time Conina spoke, that someone was running hot steel into his spine.

He glanced down at the Luggage, tramping stoically alongside him, and recognized the symptoms.

“Not you, too?” he said.

Possibly it was only the play of the sunlight on the Luggage’s battered lid, but it was just possible that for an instant it looked redder than usual.

Of course, sapient pearwood has this sort of weird mental link with its owner…Rincewind shook his head. Still, it’d explain why the thing wasn’t its normal malignant self.

“It’d never work,” he said. “I mean, she’s a female and you’re a, well, you’re a – ” He paused. “Well, whatever you are, you’re of the wooden persuasion. It’d never work. People would talk.”

More Eris Guilt and Disc Quotes

Unfortunate topic continued from “Rincewind’s sex life or lack thereof” and “Better Than Sex”

I’m just trying to piece together Rincewind’s past, k?

(If I post any of my OWN writing, it’s going on LiveJournal.)

(Oh my God, I’m going to do it, aren’t I? Just out of an old compulsion.)

So anyway, I discovered that many people wrote a lot of weird ‘fic about Sam Vimes.

Let me say something about Sam Vimes:

I was never quite sure about how I felt about Sam Vimes. He is my FAVORITE Discworld character. He is at the top; I love him to pieces.

I’m not sure if I want him to be my lover, or my father. Sometimes when I’m reading one of the Watch books, I swing both ways. He makes me very proud of the police, as a profession, and I then became very ashamed that my own grandfather’s life as a policeman didn’t fill me with the same pride!

Granted, I only started to get to know my grandfather once he’d retired from the force. But then again, he also had this thing very different from Vimes: It was a long time ago, but he said that for a while he turned a blind eye to police brutality. One thing I really appreciate about Sam Vimes is his strong moral/ethical compass. He can’t bear to see a position of power abused. It’s why he and Vetinari have so much friction. (Then again, Vimes recognizes Vetinari as being a fair man himself, in a way, because he is nothing like Snapcase. Vetinari also ensures the peace is kept – it’s why he enforces such strict rules on all the city guilds – partly by allowing Vimes to go so out of his way to seek justice. Or by using reverse psychology to nudge Vimes into seeking it.)

I think the only time Vimes ever committed some kind of act of violence he would normally abhor was when he was in berserker mode down underneath Koom Valley, and he was shouting out “Where’s my Cow?” and striking down those dwarves. But then again, it was a kill or be killed situation. Vimes is of the attitude that the only way to have a just (a just) police force is to follow the rules: you strike back when you have to, and if you can help it, you don’t use deadly force. For example, he won’t abide torture. One scene I can call to mind is when they trick this guy they’ve arrested into thinking someone’s being tortured in the next room. I think they only used bottles of beer? I forget.

I’ve been re-reading the books one by one again, as I do every so often since that fateful day the girl who lived next door to me my sophomore year of college handed me her copy of The Color of Magic. She let me borrow all the Discworld books she had (and Good Omens, too), and then I started buying my own. Rincewind became my favorite at first, and then he was surpassed by Granny Weatherwax, and then they were both evicted by Sam Vimes.

People wrote a lot of porny fanfiction about Sam Vimes. I read one, about his canon relationship with his wife Sybil. I read another one that was, like, PG, but paired him up with Angua, which is okay, because it was an AU, but still kinda weird.

There is a TON of Vetinari/Vimes slash out there, which considering their complicated relationship, you gotta expect. But I haven’t read any of it (yet).

So it’s not totally weird. Inappropriately porny Discworld fanfiction exists – respect, copyright or quality be damned. It just does.

I’m not sure why the plot bunnies even hopped into my garden. What was I even doing, to remember that quote from The Light Fantastic? I don’t really remember now, and it was only a few days ago. (!!)

I started reading Sourcery because I just read all the Witch books again and wanted some Rincewind (not that way!) but wasn’t feeling Color of Magic.

And then I came to another clue about his past, which is dumb, because it stands to reason that every man can look back on his youth and remember, “Oh yeah, I boned chicks. How could that have been so long ago?”

I am almost positive he was never in love, though. As annoyed by Conina and Nijel anyone would be, the narrator makes one very telling comment…

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Better Than Sex

He raised his hands in the classic pose he’d learned years before, and rasped, “Stand back! Or I’ll fill you full of magic!”

“The magic has faded,” said the man. “The star has taken it away. All the false wizards said their funny words and then nothing happened and they looked at their hands in horror and very few of them, in fact, had the sense to run away.”

“I mean it!” said Rincewind.

He’s going to kill me, he thought. That’s it. I can’t even bluff any more. No good at magic, no good at bluffing, I’m just a –

The Spell stirred in his mind. He felt it trickle into his brain like iced water and brace itself. A cold tingle coursed down his arm.

His arm raised of its own volition, and he felt his own mouth opening and shutting and his own tongue moving as a voice that wasn’t his, a voice that sounded old and dry, said syllables that puffed into the air like steam clouds.

Octarine fire flashed from under his fingernails. It wrapped itself around the horrified man until he was lost in a cold, spitting cloud that rose above the street, hung there for a moment, and then exploded into nothingness.

There wasn’t even a wisp of greasy smoke.

Rincewind stared at his hand in horror.

Twoflower and Bethan each grabbed him by an arm and hustled him through the shocked crowd until they reached the open street. There was  a painful moment as they each chose to run down a different alley, but they hurried on with Rincewind’s feet barely touching the cobbles.

“Magic,” he mumbled excitedly, drunk with power. “I did magic…”

“That’s right,” said Twoflower soothingly.

“Would you like me to do a spell?” said Rincewind. He pointed a finger at a passing dog and said “Wheeee!” It gave him a hurt look.

“Making your feet run a lot faster’d be favorite,” said Bethan grimly.

“Sure!” slurred Rincewind. “Feet! Run faster! Hey, look, they’re doing it!”

“They’ve got more sense than you,” said Bethan. “Which way now?”

Twoflower peered at the maze of alleyways around them. There was a lot of shouting going on, some way off.

Rincewind lurched out of their grasp and tottered uncertainly down the nearest alley.

“I can do it!” he shouted wildly. “Just you all watch out – ”

“He’s in shock,” said Twoflower.

“Why?”

“He’s never done a spell before.”

After threatening to turn them into rosebushes, getting dragged by his friends into the magic shop and passing out:

Rincewind opened his eyes and lay for a moment looking up at the stuffed reptile. It was not the best thing to see when awakening from troubled dreams…

Magic! So that’s what it felt like! No wonder wizards didn’t have much truck with sex!

Rincewind knew what orgasms were, of course, he’d had a few in his time, sometimes even in company, but nothing in his experience even approximated to that tight, hot moment when every nerve in his body streamed with blue-white fire and raw magic had blazed forth from his fingers. It filled you and lifted you and you surfed down the rising, curling wave of elemental force. No wonder wizards fought for power…

The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett, pages 165-167, 182-183

Rincewind’s sex life and lack thereof

I once again have strange fanfic ideas that have never been done and are inappropriate. And this time they’re about Rincewind from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.

{Past follies of mine include the erotic adventures of Xev and Stan from Lexx neglecting to include Kai, Buffy’s Andrew and Warren (except those two really were fucking in canon), Xena’s Discord and Strife (except I’m convinced those two really were fucking Ares in canon or probably were), and one time, the cat and the fox (anthropomorphic!) from the shitty direct-to-video sequel to Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ version of Pinocchio. Then again, the cat WAS played by “Susan” from Coupling. Come to think of it, didn’t “Jeff” play Moist von Lipwig?}

{Almost forgot about Jen and Roy in The IT Crowd and the Largo siblings fromRepo! The Genetic Opera. And one time, Beetlejuice and Lydia, and a one-shot about Ben from Lost just to provoke a reaction. I’m an awful person.}

As for Rincewind’s sex life, I’m not talking about during his adventures. Lord knows he only had feelings for potatoes.

Also, no one wants to see (or picture) Rincewind naked everrrrr, but I for some reason pictured him looking under his clothes like a boy I had sex with sophomore year of college. (The boy at college was lanky, awkward, pitchy voice, kind of scrubby beard. Smooth pale skin but never comfortable in it.) I mean, in his early twenties before his time at Unseen University. In The Color of Magic, he’s about 30. In the subsequent books he’s in his 40s, 50s, and about 60. (In the movie version of The Color of Magic, he’s in his 60s, but David Jason is awesome and that’s all that matters.)

Rincewind isn’t so much an asexual figure as he’s just that fucking nerdy. The focus of his attention in life is also on getting out of these horrible situations he’s in. He finally settles down as a librarian’s assistant, and then a professor, in a life of boring solitude (having to occasionally deal with the awful Unseen University faculty). What probably sucks for him is one of the last times you see him (I never did read The Last Hero) is in Unseen Academicals and he’s once again been pulled into some kind of unusual and unpleasant situation by being drafted on the soccer team. By then he’s an old man, but then again, so are the others. I dunno how he felt about playing soccer. They ended up liking it when the boys from the other team weren’t trying to kill them. But you see my point. Quiet, solitude, potatoes. Especially after being stranded in awful places like the Dungeon Dimensions and deserted islands.

{I have a feeling that he only ended up with anybody as a young man when he was probably drunk or she was. Sorry Rincewind.}

{Who gave him therapy with a woman, potatoes, and a baseball bat is a mystery.}

She’d always been more than a little obsessed with fucking…

‘It wasn’t just sex, or it was but it wasn’t. It was about sex when they weren’t doing it, because no matter where he was, or what he was doing, Andrew’s mind was always in bed, with Warren. He’d always been more than a little obsessed with fucking, but he suspected that the way it obsessed him was different than how it did other boys. For other boys, boys like Warren, it was the desire to conquer that was the driving force, for Andrew, though, it was touch.’

-From the fanfic ‘Diamond,’ by Polly Burns

“I have a dysfunctional relationship with sex,” I told my therapist, back at film school.

“You have a dysfunctional relationship with yourself.”

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What do you do with your life? (Or rather, where?)

Overheard one of my coworkers telling another intern that he didn’t want to be an AC…

(really random part to walk in on; the AC is the Assistant Camera, who usually acts like a Focus Puller, and generally handles putting together and taking apart a camera. If it’s the other AC, it’s the person in charge of the media; formerly the film, now the harddisks).

…Not as a career, anyway, he said. He preferred his work easy, he said, going through the items in our back room. And being an AC is hard.

I didn’t know the context, because I only caught the tail end of the conversation. But I asked him about living in Boston, and he told me about Somerville, and I said I had been looking for a new town to live, and he asked me if I’d been there much, and other than my friend who is a dentist living and working there, (a female oral surgeon, which yeah, I know, women can be oral surgeons, but it’s still badass), and me seeing the Memorial Day parade, I wisely left out the part about…CB.

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“Which of the me’s is me?”

“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one’s marrow. But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends’ faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against – you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.

It goes on and on, and finally there are only others’ recollections of your behavior – your bizarre, frenetic, aimless behaviors – for mania has at least some grace in partially obliterating memories. What then, after the medications, psychiatrist, despair, depression, and overdose? All those incredible feelings to sort through. Who is being too polite to say what? Who knows what? What did I do? Why? And most hauntingly, when will it happen again? Then, too, are the bitter reminders – medicine to take, resent, forget, take, resent, and forget, but always to take. Credit cards revoked, bounced checks to cover, explanations due at work, apologies to make, intermittent memories (what did I do?), friendships gone or drained, a ruined marriage. And always, when will it happen again? Which of my feelings are real? Which of the me’s is me? The wild, impulsive, chaotic, energetic, and crazy one? Or the shy, withdrawn, desperate, suicidal, doomed, and tired one? Probably a bit of both, hopefully much that is neither. Virginia Woolf, in her dives and climbs said it all: ‘How far do our feelings take their colour from the dive underground? I mean, what is the reality of any feeling?'”

-From “An Unquiet Mind” by Kay Redfield Jamison.