#rarejack

So we all have that one queer ship that doesn’t just make you mildly unwell, but sends you into a full-body spiritual exorcism, right? The kind that has you clawing at the walls, shrieking into the void, collapsing like a Victorian widow, and ascending directly into space? The kind that makes you consider throwing yourself off a cliff purely for cinematic accuracy? The ship that REWIRES your brain chemistry, ruins your sleep schedule, and possesses you like a feral gay demon every time the characters so much as breathe in the same direction?