Reblog To Give The Person You Reblogged From A Comfy Sweater

anyway here are all my “how did molly figure out he has blood hunter abilities” ideas

the obvious: he’s a sword juggler he had to have cut himself on accident at some point and then accidentally did a blood maledict on a nearby yasha or something

he got into a fight and muscle memory/instincts leftover from lucien took over

at some point he was like “whoever had this body before me had to have gotten all these scars for some reason” and activated his swords out of sheer curiosity

the best option: he was getting one of his tattoos and the artist drew blood and was also going over a painful spot and he freaked out and put Blood Curse of the Eyeless™ on them

Link crying: w-wh-what’s a car?!?!

I could not stop laughing while reading this. Poor Bones.

tbh though if i were mccoy i’d be pretty fucking fed up with spock too. imagine you’re a doctor, you dedicate your life to learning how care for hundreds of different life forms and species across the galaxy, and then your wife divorces you, which leads you to enlisting as a doctor for starfleet. this is WAY outside of your comfort zone, you hate adventure and you’d rather be sittin on a porch in the sun with some sweet tea in hand and your daughter on your knee, but you ain’t got nowhere else to go, and who are you if you aren’t a doctor? you’ve dedicated your whole life and so much more to healing. so you enlist, you get assigned to a starship. not your dream job, but if there’s one thing leonard mccoy knows how to do it’s treat patients. and then THIS MEDICAL MARVEL MOTHERFUCKER comes in with his fucked up gene spliced half human half vulcan biology and the rarest most obscure blood type even among vulcans with ZERO precedent for his existence or medical baseline and also happens to be THE WORST PATIENT IN HISTORY. REFUSES to sit still and follow instructions. always making smart ass comments about your silly human emotionalism. you’ll get insane fucking readings and be like “spock i think you’re dying” and the bastard will answer with a straight face “yes. that’s just pon farr.” “can you tell me how to treat it?” “no.” and then just walks out of the fucking sickbay. you’re constantly busting your ass trying to figure out how to keep this human-alien catboy mix’n’match medical nightmare from hell alive and healthy and all you get in return is backhanded compliments from an emotionally stunted fruit. and you can’t even complain about it to your best friend because he’s too busy doodling this obstinate motherfucker’s name all over his notebook while eye-fucking him on the middle of the bridge. hell i’d be an alcoholic too.

It's VERY important Tokoyami, he swears!!

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

They made a small olive and named it Smoliv. A little piggy named Lechonk. Gen 9 is truly blessed.

A quick littol pride lonk