#just because Kirk looks so tiny

[blast-it-jim]

Some triumvirate doodles I digitalized/updated while going through my old sketch book

I have so many of different shows

And I’m doing all of them

#I think my favorite is why mr spock <3 #just because Kirk looks so tiny #I just wanna hug him #Star Trek fanart #Star Trek #star trek aos #star trek tos #spirk #mcspirk #jim kirk #Spock #bones mccoy #aos #tos

[sp0o0kylights]

Give meee: an Eddie who went into a small little bookshop on an Indie trip and stumbled across an in person fandom meeting. 

It's mostly Star Trek, and also mostly women, but the stories they have are nothing like Eddie's ever read. 

He's barely a teenager, and already protective of himself and his real identity--but everything he's ever wanted is written down, right here, on a little zine with Kirk and Spock doodled on the cover. 

They’re not--it’s not obvious, that they’re what he is, but the story itself is blatant and Eddie ends up being so obviously close to tears, he accidentally outs himself without ever saying a word. 

(He also ends up on the mailing list, then being sent home with several hand printed copies of all kinds of zines.) 

Eddie would remain on this list well past his third senior year in high school. 

Past bats, and Vecna and Steve fucking Harrington. 

Flash forward to his first apartment.The tiny one he shares with Steve when they followed Nancy and Robin to college. 

Steve knows Eddie’s gay. 

Or rather, Steve has been told, but Eddie's still pretty clammed up about it. He's not yet where Robin is, ready to bemoan her loveless existence while draped over their crappy, thrifted couch.

He makes jokes and he flirts and he absolutely says things he shouldn't, but none of it is real. 

It's flash. Showmanship. 

It's the persona that yes, is him, but Eddie consciously built it. There’s nothing soft or gooey there, nothing anyone can use to hurt him. 

So when he comes home and sees that plain, padded envelope with the neatly printed label on the counter, torn wide open and flat without its contents?

 Eddie panics. 

His heart thunders in his chest, vision tunneling as adrenaline kicks through him. 

He wants to bolt-- should bolt--except ever since he almost died his brain no longer obeys him. 

Not when it comes to running, anyway. 

Instead it fights him to a standstill, freezing his feet right to the living room floor. 

The urge is still there. 

To run, and save face the cowards way. 

Vanish before Steve could get at a part of him that had once kept Eddie out of Wayne’s trailer for two days, until the old man had hunted him down and made him come home, huffing about how he’d love Eddie no matter what but he better never disappear like that again. 

(Which Eddie did anyway, and of everything that happened with Vecna, it’s that he regrets the most. The stories he heard of Wayne putting up posters. Squaring off with angry, too-righteous townies, and--)

A sniffle jerks him out of his thoughts. 

Eddie gasps, entirely unsure of when he stopped breathing. Stumbles back and turns, right in time for Steve to come out of his room and amble down their hallway. 

One hand rubs at his eyes, and the other is--the other has…

Eddie identifies the cheaply printed, stapled zine immediately. It's one he's wanted to read for a while now, solely because it features a story about Kirk and Spock being stuck in a cave together on a planet that has  bat-like, vicious animals on it. 

Kirk gets bitten after something goes wrong with the transporter and, look, it’s carthiatic okay!? Sue a guy for wanting to read a romance about a situation he identifies with! 

Steve looks up from the zine and startles. 

For a second his eyes go dark and flat, the same way Eddies and Robins and Nancy's and everyone's does when caught off guard. 

It's gone in a flash though, Steve visibly relaxing when he clocks that it's just Eddie. 

He keeps the zine pressed to his sweater clad chest,  and huffs out a laugh that's half forced and half pure relief.

“Fuck Eds, you scared me! I didn’t know you could be quiet.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie manages, voice sounding totally and absolutely normal and not at all ten octaves higher than it usually is. 

They stare at each other for a second. Long enough that Steve's eyebrows crinkle in the middle, which is the first hint that he’s beginning to worry, and Eddie really cannot handle Steve being worried right now.  

“What's--” Eddie’s voice cracks and he coughs to recover. “what's that?” 

Steve frowns at him for a moment, until Eddie gestures at the zine in his hands. 

“Oh!”

Steve holds it up, as if to show it off. 

“It's a little book Robin got in the mail. It has a bunch of stories in it. They're normally boring as fuck but this one's from Star Trek.” 

Hearing the words ‘Star Trek’ out of Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be weird, not anymore, when Eddie and Dustin have been on a two man mission to nerdify Harrington as much as possible, but it still kicks like a mule to hear him say such things without any prompting. 

“You know what Star Trek is?”

“Eddie,” Steve tuts, tongue clicking in his mouth. “everyone knows what Star Trek is. It’s nerd shit, but like, old nerd shit. My grandparents used to watch it when I stayed over. This?” 

 He shakes the zine, so hard Eddie wants to snatch it away from him.

 “This isn't nerd shit. This is excellent.”

Steve gives the zine an appreciative glance and hell, maybe Eddie accidentally walked into another dimension. 

He’s been trying to get Steve to read more, rediscover the joys of books the public school system does its best to destroy, but until now Steve hasn’t really taken to it. 

Enjoys when Eddie reads aloud sometimes, and has started to bug Robin to do it for him too, but otherwise?

Eddie’s nerve seen him with anything that had the written word on it that wasn’t a cooking or car related magazine. 

“Honestly,” Steve’s saying, “I think Robs fucked up, this isn't her style at all. She’s gonna be pissed.” 

He eyes the thing appreciatively, like the gift it is. 

“I'm stealing it the second she figures that out.” He adds decisively. 

“You like it?” Eddie asks. 

“Mmm.” 

“Even though it's--it's got…Kirk…” 

Steve's frowning at him again. “What?” 

“It's queer man. It's really queer.” 

Steve peers at him, the crinkle back in his eyebrows. 

“I know. Wait, how do you--” 

And well. It’s now or never. 

“It's mine.” Eddie says in a rush.

“No it's not.” Steve scoffs, and okay, maybe this is a dream. Eddie pinched himself twice already, but perhaps a third time would wake him up?

(It does not.)

“it was even addressed to Robin. Well,” Steve has one hand on a hip now, his default position when arguing, “Robbie, but she goes by that sometimes.” 

Which Robin does, but not in the fucking mail.

Without a word, Eddie turns and goes for the envelope the zine came in. 

Steve follows, invading Eddie’s space to peer over his shoulder (and that’s Eddie’s fault too, that closeness, but he didn’t think it would be turned on him in a moment like this--) 

There's a sticker on the envelope’s label.

 It’s barely hanging on, half of it curled into the air.  Round and yellow, with little black lines, it becomes immediately obvious that one of Robin's smiley face stickers has migrated again. 

They're all over the apartment. Remnants of a phase she went through after she stole a roll of them from her and Steve’s job at a local toy store.

This one had clearly jumped ship from its original spot (likely on the ceiling somewhere), and was now firmly over the E in Eddie's name. 

‘Ddie’ still isn't exactly ‘Obbie’  but--

Steve leans around, snatching the envelope up and bringing it close to his face. 

Far too close, like he can't read it, eyes squinting as he examines the label--and suddenly Eddie knows exactly what happened. 

He laughs, an explosion of noise that's half hysterical and half disbelief. 

Steve looks at him. 

“What?” 

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, one finger jabbing in the air in the vague direction of Steve’s nose. “I told you you needed glasses!” 

“I do not!” Steve protests immediately, but his eyes are darting around the envelope. 

He’s scrambling to figure out what Eddie’s seeing, trying desperately to find a hole that can prove himself right. 

Eddie decides to help him, by plucking the smiley sticker off the envelope. 

“See?” He jeers, and shit okay, maybe his life isn’t over just yet. “It says Eddie, not Robbie!” 

“You guys have got to start using your government names for this shit.” Steve bitches, but it’s weak.

Eddie feels a grin coming on, and lets it overtake his face. 

“So...Kirk and Spock huh?” 

“They’re cute.” Steve defends instantly, before sighing his defeat and tossing the envelope on the table. 

The zine he keeps in his hands. 

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against their rickety table. “Even though they’re both guys?” 

“I thought we were past this!” Steve whines. “I went to a gay bar with Robin last weekend!” 

Which is news to Eddie. 

“You didn’t invite me?” He gasps, feigning hurt by putting a hand over his heart. 

Truthfully he still hasn’t fully recovered--is play acting himself, almost, but is rapidly coming around to the idea of Steve appreciating queer fanfiction. 

“We did!” Steve rolls his eyes so dramatically his whole head moves. “We absolutely did, You said,” 

Here Steve’s voice pitches into a mockery of Eddie’s  that he will not give him points for, even if it is a little hilarious, “Me? At some loser bar? Fuck no, I’ve got a campaign to write. Starbuck, don’t you have homework?” 

“I didn’t know that was a gay bar!” 

“You did! Robin told you!” 

“Okay well, I wasn’t listening!”  

“Clearly. I keep telling you we need a fucking--system or, I don’t know, a code word or something!”  

“Yeah well, when you wanna make us a safe word for conversations, big boy, you let me know.” 

They’re both laughing a little now, this argument veering into familiar territory, with Eddie not really listening and Steve mocking him for it later. (As well as vice versa, with startling regularity.) 

“You really like it though?”  Eddie says after the laughter winds down, gesturing to the zine still clutched in Steve’s hand. 

“Yeah.” Steve confirms, easy as he’s said anything else. Like this isn’t embarrassing, or almost worse than the time Wayne found Eddie’s porno mags and alphabetized them as a joke. 

“It's part of a mail tree. I’m supposed to send it on to the next person when I’m done with it. I make copies though,” Eddie rushes to add, because Steve is now clutching the little booklet to his chest in horror, as if Eddie was about to rip it out of his hands. “If you like I’ll show you my other ones?” 

Steve eases his grip, giving Eddie the little smile he makes that makes his stomach flip. 

“That’d be cool.” 

(Later, Steve pokes at Eddie’s thigh from where they’re both sprawled on Eddie’s bed, Steve having switched the new zine out for one of Eddie’s copies. “Are you going to laugh at me if I ask you to read some of these aloud?” 

“Only if you don’t laugh when I ask you to take me to that gay bar.” 

“Deal, but on the grounds you’re barred from making fun of my flirting attempts. Robin doing it was bad enough.” 

“Well you deserve it if you’re hitting on women at a gay bar, Stevie.” 

“I wasn't hitting on women you asshole.” Steve says and oh.

Oh.

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him for the second time that day. 

At least this time it’s not fear that thunders through him, but possibility.) 

#steddie #pre steddie #eddie reads star trek slash fiction #kirk/spock #mentioned anyway lol #Steve Harringtons Terrible Fucking Eyesight #(me too buddy me too) #steve harrington #eddie munson #zines #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

[ediewentmissing]

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Eddie leans in further towards you from the opposite side of the table, pressing his rings against the wooden surface, “Everyone has a crush on at least someone.”

He’d asked you whether you liked anyone or not many times before, and each time you instantly denied his query. But he was right, it was bullshit. And he could tell. Usually he didn’t push, just changed the subject to something innocent, but today he was impatient, but he’d wondered what you type was for too long, and today, he planned to find out.

Although the chances were that you were into the mainstream, stereotypical, hot guys, Eddie had a tiny ray of hope that maybe he was your type.

“‘Kay, uh…” He thinks for a moment from across the table, then smiles, “How ‘bout a celebrity? Or fictional character?”

You sigh huffily, ignoring him and turning your gaze to the pile of homework you were supposed to be helping him with. He gets up and sits abruptly down next to you.

Eddie grabs your chin and turns your head to his face, and your eyes peel hesitantly away from the incomplete work to his. He’s got his puppy-eyes in action. His melted caramel puppy-eyes.

“Fine,” You give in, and he straightens up, excited, “I’ll compromise; I tell you a celebrity crush of mine, and you have to study,” You press a finger firmly into the pages laid on the table, “otherwise you can say bye-bye to graduation.”

His nods his head eagerly, awaiting your confession. You take a deep breath in, preparing yourself for the inevitable teasing that will come out of this.

“Kirk.”

“I require a last name.”

“Ham-“

He leaps out of his seat and jogs around the bench in a frenzy. “HAMMET? KIRK HAMMET?”

You nod, suppressing a laugh, because he looks as if he just shit himself. Maybe he did.

“HOLY SHIT!” He runs his hands through his hair in bewilderment, “THIS… THIS IS A GROUNDBREAKING DISCOVERY! I- I MEAN… CHECK MY PULSE!”

He grabbed you wrist, placing your palm on this chest. His heart rate was soaring, thumping underneath your hand.

“Christ, Eds! Calm down!” You pull your palm away from his faded Whitesnake shirt, secretly not wanting to, and he plops himself back down next to you. You begin to flick through the pages of the unfinished homework.

“So why Kirk?”

“Huh?” You glance at him, then back down.

“Why Kirk of all people? Most girls are into… What? Like, Tom Cruise? Brad Pitt, Ralph Macchio, Rob Lowe-“

“Hey, stop right there.” You hold up your hand, “Rob is a heartthrob, for sure, but doesn’t matter because Kirk is top-fucking-tier and beats, like, ninety percent of the competition.”

Your answer felt so close to home. Eddie was beaming. Kirk was a certified metalhead, so was Eddie. They had the same style, liked the same music. And they both had rocking personalities. You we’re practically confessing your love to him, and all of a sudden, Eddie felt like he actually had a shot with you. Maybe he bet ninety percent of the competition. It could be why you stuck around, because nobody else did.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Today on popping the corn and feeding the children, what do you folks think of this discussion? :)

I'm always curious to hear what other Trek fans, especially queer Trek fans, think about our place in Trek history and how we fare as the queer participants within our fandom. What have your experiences been like?

Overwhelmingly I've found a great reception and a welcoming attitude, but I admit that has increased considerably since the 90s. However, there are still some Trek fans who seem to be vehemently in denial about queer history in Star Trek, or the fact that anyone who has worked on Trek has pro-LGBT attitudes. This always surprises me considering some of the blatant queer content we have already seen in Star Trek such as the Jadzia Dax and Lenara Kahn kiss.

Anyway, I enjoyed the discussion that followed and seeing the overwhelming outpouring of support coming from Star Trek fans in response to this thread.

Here was my two cents contribution:

"No, what they said was factual.

Have you forgotten Nichelle Nichols was indeed an African American woman in the core seven bridge crew back in 1966?

Or the fact that Gene Roddenberry went out of his way to write The Motion Picture Novel, creating the term "T'hy'la: friend, brother, lover" so that fans could choose which interpretations of Kirk and Spock they saw fit? He also embraced K/S fans and hired a number of them to write the earliest Star Trek novels, including the very first official one (The New Voyages Vol. 1 & 2) which included slash fiction as well as Gene's approval/forward in the books.

In case anyone has forgotten, here's a little bit of background on Gene Roddenberry and his perspectives on queerness in Star Trek.

He admitted that in his early life he was very affected by how society and culture treated the LGBT community, and that he too found himself subjugating and judging others for that lifestyle because it was what people did at that time. As he got older and had more life experience, he began working with a number of queer artists in Hollywood -- and through TOS, a number of queer individuals began asking questions about Kirk and Spock.

Instead of vehemently shutting down this perspective, Roddenberry was intrigued, and saw potential to tap into a large audience (LGBT) that most others didn't want to go near or acknowledge publicity-wise. He saw it as an opportunity to expand the fanbase while also pushing yet another envelope.

But with the heat already on the show for what they'd already pushed, he found he was often stuck between what he'd like to do and what production would let him get away with. There are a number of Kirk and Spock scenes in scripts that got cut out for leaning a little too obviously romantic. Tiny trickles of that content still made it in were infamous moments like the backrub scene in Shore Leave. Even the 2009 movie had a K/S moment while Spock Prime and Kelvin Spock talked that was written and filmed that was cut out of the final product.

Queer subtext and coding has always been relentlessly weeded away at with an excuse ready to go for why they always try to cut us out, but we all know it's because they are scared of the homophobic backlash and ratings hits. Look how violently homophobes went after the gay romance episode of The Last of Us **just this year**. This has always been our reality, so for someone like Roddenberry to make efforts in the 70s? That was massive.

But Gene as well as the queer/slash Trek community managed to accomplish some things in the 70s which I'm surprised more folks don't talk about or give much credit.

In the same TMP novel which features "T'hy'la" and the famous footnote, Gene cleverly wrote Kirk with a bisexual/pansexual lens: Kirk describes himself as *preferring* women but being open to "physical love in **any** of its many Earthly, alien, and mixed forms." (Direct quote from Genes book). Basically, Captain Kirk was DTF with whoever if there was a connection, which was a very progressive take for a character in a novel written in 1979, but made sense for the future which would have a lot less hang ups about sex and love compared to our current rather puritan/conservative society.

I also prefer women, but I married a man. Shout out to Gene Roddenberry for giving us a seat at the table back in the 70's when folks *still* try to insist there is no place for K/S or queer concepts in Trek, because he made efforts -- however small -- to employ queer people and show queer perspectives. According to David Gerrold, LGBT+ representation was a big thing that Gene personally pushed for in TNG and wanted various depictions of love/couples in the Risa scenes, to name one example.

In the 70s, fanzines led to meetings and swapped fanmade magazines, which got so big that they needed hotel centers, then convention centers, then one day the TOS cast came to one and what we know as modern fan conventions were born -- inspiring even George Lucas who attended Trek conventions in the 70s and saw how popular Trek was in syndication; it was a great climate to launch his Space Opera. Star Wars then became so huge that we got TMP.

But none of that would have happened without the level of organization, passion, and creativity that those fans poured into Star Trek and their characters after it got cancelled and went into syndication.

Without queer folks we wouldn't have George Takei, Theodore Sturgeon who gave us Tribbles, Bill Theiss and his amazing TOS costumes, Mike Minor's art direction, Merritt Butrick, David Gerrold (writer for TOS, TAS, TNG) to name a few of many queer contributors to Trek that Roddenberry respected and tried to go to bat for wherever he could in a climate that was absolutely impossible to gain an inch in.

At a time during the 70s and 80s when so many people resented and feared the queer community and wanted us to disappear, especially in the 80s during the AIDS epidemic which many homophobes claimed was "God's punishment to the gay community" or "Gods's answer" to our "hedonism", thinking we'd gotten our just desserts and should just disappear . . .

During that time, Gene Roddenberry gave us queer folks a place to say: "You know what? Sure. Write your stories. TV says you guys shouldn't exist, they pull books with queer people off the shelves and burn them. Laws exist specifically to forbid you guys from loving each other, and call you mentally ill. You can't even hold hands in public. But I'm going to validate you guys and invite you to write novels or work for me, try to see what we can get by production, and allow you to see yourselves in my characters if you want to. There's a place for you in our fandom."

He gave us bi/pan Kirk, he gave us K/S is open to interpretation. In Phase 2 Kirk's surviving nephew Peter, son of his brother Sam from Operation: Annihilate!, was going to be written as gay and living on the Enterprise with his partner -- that also got chopped and reworked into a script that wouldn't get used until decades later. That was huge at a time that being queer was officially listed as a mental illness, and villainized due to the AIDS crisis.

So before you try to dismiss or tell K/S + queer Trek fans whether or not they deserve a seat at the table, remember that Gene Roddenberry was among the **first** to pull that seat out for us in a climate that was ruthlessly against LGBT+ folks." -- 1Shirt2ShirtRedShirtDeadShirt

P.S: Have some cute bisexual/pansexual K/S pride gifs. :) Pride month is a hop, skip and a jump away.

LLAP!🖖💚

#1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt #long ass post #lgbt #lgbt+ #star trek #queer trek #star trek tos #gene roddenberry #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+ #bisexuality #pansexuality #pride month #spirk #tos #spock #kirk/spock #kirkxspock #kirk x spock #queer history #queer art #queer representation #jim kirk #kirk #mr. spock #star trek conventions #trekkies #octrek #octrekmeta #ocspirk

[love-and-hisses]

These little monkeys are 7 weeks old! The boys are now over 2 pounds/.91 kg. You can see their updated weight chart here:

Also about that spreadsheet is that if you look at the tabs at the bottom of the page, there's a "comparative weights" spreadsheet so you can see how they compare to previous litters at the same age.

Someone was asking about the kittens' personalities this week, so here's a very quick description of each kitten (you can take it as a given that each kitten is the most wonderful kitten ever, of course.) There are NO bonded pairs among this litter, everyone is good buddies with everyone else.

Kirk is Mr. Chill Dude - he's super nosy, wants to be in the middle of what you're doing, but you can do anything to him and he's just like "Okay, man." I've had to give him two baths in the past few weeks as he perfected his litterbox skills (which he has done), and both times he was perfectly fine, not a complaint out of him.

Spock is initially timid, but gets over it quickly; his Daddy must have been a Jumping Bean, because he will race and jump and skitter in every random direction. He is NUTS (in the best way.) In his own way he's as calm as Kirk is - I can pick him up, flip him over and he just shrugs and goes with it.

Janeway always greets me at the door and is so happy to see me. She has a super reactive tail that floofs at the slightest surprise or startle (JUST her tail). She is a silly little goofball, sweet, and loves to be kissed. She loves to jump on her siblings (and her mama) and wrestle (well, they all like to do that.)

Kes marches to the beat of her own drum and does things in her own time and her own way. She's everyone's best friend and will snuggle with whichever kitten is around. She tends to go off and snooze by herself, but is someone wants to join her, she is A-OK with that.

Troi is a sweet little chill girl with a very feisty side; I can pick her up and kiss her 1,000 times and she tolerates it with good cheer. She has no idea she's tiny - she will jump on her siblings, wipe the floor with them, and then stroll away smiling.

(Pic & description of mama Uhura will be up later.)

[triptuckers]

scars - jim kirk

Request: yes! "Hi I just discovered your blog and binge read everything. I’m watching Star Trek strange new worlds and it made me want to do a one word blurb request for Jim kirk with the word scars. Idk if I’m supposed to give an idea for it. If so maybe him and reader bonding over telling stories about what caused the scars. If we’re not supposed to do ideas I’m sure you’ll come up with singing brilliant. Either way continue the amazing writing !🫶🏻" Pairing:  jim kirk x reader Summary:  you and jim tell each other about your scars Warnings:  mentions of scars, mentions of blood, like one swear wordWord count:  780 A/N: thank you so much for this request!! <3 I've yet to watch last weeks snw episode bc I was on holiday and me and my dad have a tradition to watch it on Friday but I miss my silly little space people so I'm gonna ask if we can watch it sooner 💅🏻 enjoy reading!

'that was the most intense day ever.' you say as you roll your shoulders and then take off your boots.

behind you, jim chuckles as he enters his quarters as well.

'you stayed in you lab all day, how intense could it have been?' he says.

you give him a look over your shoulder. 'why don't you spend an entire day in a lab with spock telling you what to do and then see if you're still your happy energetic self.'

jim laughs and pulls you in for a hug. 'alright I'll give you that.' he says, kissing the top of your head. 'why don't you take a shower and then we go to bed early?'

'sounds like a great plan.' you say.

jim was right, a warm shower helps. you close your eyes as you soak up the feeling of peace. after a while, you leave the shower, walking toward jim's closet to get a shirt to sleep in.

you get out the first one you see and pull it on before walking toward the bed.

'you know I don't mind, right?' says jim as you lay down next to him.

you frown. 'don't mind what?'

'your scars. there's no need to hide them from me.'

'oh... I just don't like them, that's all.' you say quietly. 'they remind me of times when I wasn't strong enough. like that time during an away mission when half of us didn't make it back to the ship.'

now it's jim's turn to frown. 'not strong enough?' he says.

you shrug. 'if I was stronger I wouldn't have scars.'

'baby, you've got scars because you fought. you're still here. that doesn't make you weak.'

'thanks.' you say softly.

jim reaches out as if to pull you closer, but instead holds his arm in the air.

'what?' you say.

instead of saying something, he points to a thin line on the inside of his upper arm.

you reach out and trace one of your fingers along the thin scar.

'didn't know you had that.' you say softly.

'well that's because you hardly notice my inner arm when I'm not wearing a shirt.' says jim, earning a chuckle from you.

'when did you get it?' you ask.

'three years ago. I thought it would be cool to be able to fight with knives. you know, old school.'

'and?'

'and I lasted precisely one training sessions. sliced open my own arm. lost quite a lot of blood even though it was a shallow cut. never tried fighting with knives again. I'll stick to a phaser or my fists.'

you laugh at his story, tracing the scar once more.

'I don't just have bad ones, you know.' you say. 'I've got one on my nose as well.'

'no you don't.'

'yes I do.'

you lean in closer to jim's face and watch his eyes as he studies your nose.

'it's very faint.' you say.

jim narrows his eyes as he looks closer. you can see the moment in his eyes when he sees it, a twinkle appearing in his eyes.

'it's tiny.' he says, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose where the scar is.

you smile at him.

'I swear I've never seen it before, though.' he says. 'how did you-' 'walked into a broken door.'

jim laughs out loud. you smile and shake your head, thinking back to the memory.

next to you jim is still laughing as you tell the story. about how you were working a double shift and were totally focused on the padd in your hands. how you didn't see or hear someone warning you the sensor of the automatic door needed fixing. and how it resulted into you walking face first into the door.

jim wipes away a tear that escaped his eye, still chuckling at the story.

'christine was in a state when I entered medbay that day.' you say. 'there was blood all over my face. I had a swollen nose and a black eye for two weeks.'

jim pulls you in closer and kisses your nose again.

'still think scars make me strong?' you say.

'oh, yeah, definitely.' says jim. 'next time watch out for broken doors, though.'

you playfully shove him. 'oh fuck off, you.' you say, but there's a smile on your lips. 'thank you.'

'for what?'

'just... thanks. night jim.'

'goodnight baby, don't dream of broken doors.'

jim inhales sharply as you firmly press your cold feet against his legs underneath the covers.

'mean.' he says.

'deserved.' you say.

jim laughs softly as he pulls you closer. you lay your head on your chest and fall asleep listening to his heartbeat.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

#star trek #Star Trek strange new worlds #snw #Star Trek snw #Jim kirk #James t kirk #captain kirk #star trek fic #star trek fanfics #star trek fanfic #Star Trek blurb #snw fanfic #snw fanfics #snw fanfiction #snw blurb #snw blurbs #Jim Kirk x reader #Jim Kirk x you #jim kirk fanfiction #jim kirk fanfic #jim kirk fic #Jim Kirk blurb #Jim Kirk blurbs #Jim Kirk imagine

[elephant-in-the-pride-parade]

Essay: Post-Holidays, I see my Uncle's "Strange New Girls" Hate Watch in a Whole New Light.

No that is not a typo, that is actually what he calls SNW. And my macho-loving Kirk-fanboi of an uncle has been hate watching it religiously. The last time he hated a Star Trek show (DIS) he just didn't watch it. So this opposite response to SNW fascinates me. He talks big talk about there being too many women on the Bridge and hates on La'an with a particular vehemence, both because she's permitted in Starfleet despite a direct relation to the augments' leader and because she's a tiny lady running security. (I can't separate the more reasonable perspective from the sexist one, the man is both.) At first I took his persistent critiques of the SNW crew as a very straightforward anti-women enmity, until Christmas when he came out with the following bomb-shell.

"We just watched Voyager, you know Janeway: Janeway is alright. She's a good captain."

(Color me shocked we had rage-inducing debates about this in my teens and early twenties)

On the one hand, perhaps my uncle has gotten slightly less sexist towards a female captain over the last 30 years? Doubtful considering the way he layers personal criticisms on the female SNW characters. But on the other, him now enjoying Janeway's show does make me understand his hate and fascination with SNW. It's not about the women on the Bridge at all.

It's about Pike.

I'm sure there are other factors. Janeway's main Bridge crew was almost entirely male. And Voyager was written to try not to offend the sensibilities of men like my uncle (an effort that hasn't worked on him until now). But I also think it's got a lot to do with the two captains' presence on the Bridge, and how each captain is portrayed in their own show. Janeway makes many more aggressive command choices than Pike, by virtue of personality and situation. Sometimes she makes those choices even against the reservations of male subordinates. She stares down the barrel of death on numerous occasions, unblinking. She's often the protagonist in her own show. She changes the timeline to influence her past self and encourages her to make a daring and selfish choice that is applauded and shown to pay off in a big way.

And notably, while she's the first woman to have center stage in the captain's seat, her femininity and portrayal of gender is what I think is best described as micro-managed (One need only look at the dizzying array of styles the show experiments with for her hairdo). She dresses in a very feminine way off duty, but often displays more "masculine" behaviors, especially on duty. She very rarely cries. Outside of expressing anger, flirtation, and curiosity, she is not often overtly emotional. A special note for flirtation: she gets wide license to be flirtatious with everyone from enemy combatants to her senior staff to even her ship when she's trying to sweet talk it. She avoids talking about her feelings at all costs. She can't cook and that's a running joke. In all the ways that matter, she acts like one would expect a traditionally male captain to act, with just enough feminine concessions sprinkled in to keep her from coming off as "too masculine."

Pike is very diplomatic and much more rule-conscious. He's Starfleet's boy scout. He takes a back seat in many episodes as other characters get to shine. When he is center stage the conflicts he combats are very personal. He stares down the barrel of "death" (as he's referred to his future disability) and flinches. His trip to change time is done to tell his past self to step aside, act selflessly and take a back seat to a fate that terrifies him. He often listens to and makes decisions that align with his (largely female) Bridge crew's recommendations. And while he dresses in a traditionally masculine way on and off duty, emotionally, he's shown to be much more traditionally feminine. He cries over a dead horse (My uncle was particularly aghast at that). He cooks and is shown to take pleasure in it, even using it as a tool of diplomacy. He is a sympathetic counseling ear for many of his crew.

He does not get to flirt with his Bridge crew. When he is shown expressing sexual interest in someone it leads to emotional hurt and command weakness (in Lift Us Up Where Suffering Cannot Reach, he becomes aware of his love-interest's abhorrent ethics only after watching her participate in something horrific, which he is helpless to stop. And when Batel gets into trouble with the Gorn in Hegemony, his fixation on her well-being comes off as somewhat short-sighted, and contributes to command paralysis in the final scene). His very close friendship with Una may border on romantic attachment, but there's nothing sexual about their on screen interactions. And his quest to have her accepted by the Federation is one of the only major emotional decisions he undertakes that is shown to have a majorly positive outcome.

In sum I think Pike is shown to be vulnerable, gentle, and craving of connections in a way that is very human, but one that men are not traditionally supposed to be. The themes of his arc center on standing aside for the benefit of others, accepting future loss of ability and death, making peace with a future that doesn't center around you - all messages about moving from selfishness to selflessness. His lack of sexual incentives and behaviors stands out distinctly from how male protagonists typically get portrayed. He's basically anathema to the masculine ideal my uncle's spent his life trying to embody.

I still don't know what reason drives my uncle to keep watching "Strange New Girls" as religiously as he has. But I do now see his fixation on finding fault with all the women on the Bridge differently. By critiquing them, he is deflecting attention from his discomfort with the man in the center seat.

#personal #pike and masculinity #i continue to be fascinated by uncle's hate watch #i will generously leave his hate for the musical episode out of this analysis. #I suspect he might like Batel more than Pike as a captain if I asked him #It should come as no surprise that he also persists in willful blindness to the presence of K/S in TOS fandom

[historia-vitae-magistras]

You’re my favorite blog <3 luv u

Oh god okay I love just like... ordinary domestic history. I love it so much. The history of childhood is so my wheelhouse. In 1629 the Kirk brothers raided and captured the tiny little shit pile colony that was Quebec. Acadia had already been raided by English Virginians in 1613. So Matt's a wee tiny little sad baby who got snatched up by Arthur and Alasdair. Scared shitless because they either filched him off a boat or kicked him from a burning settlement. He's sleeping in a drawer and tbh not doing great.

Alfred's about four or five, and he's a rambunctious four or five. Baby boy is busting up wooden shields and swords pretending to be a knight. He's chasing after Cadwaladr and coming home lightly singed when he does manage to get a good yank on the poor buggers tale. Does he know why the 'cat' is breathing fire? No. Does he love harassing it anyways? Yes. He loves the cattle and the horses and he's finally old enough the creatures have stopped harassing him so much. There are bright spangled sailboat tapestries in his room that catch the light because this home is the first Arthur ever installed big beautiful windows in. This kid has three chins and a Shetland pony, okay? baby boy is living his best life.

No one is quite sure what he'll do with a baby around. Matt's maybe walking, maybe toddling about but he's very quiet. He likes listening to stories and other people's words but he's not got a lick of English. And honestly I can't see Arthur being thrilled if Alasdair committed grand theft tadpole but Alfred got wind of the baby and he's absolutely going bonkers. Bouncing on his toes trying to see, trying to look up into Arthur or Rhys or Alasdair's arms to get a glimpse babbling about it. And they're a bit hesitant. Alfred's not exactly known for being gentle or careful.

But as soon as Matt's in his arms it's the calmest, sweetest, most cautious hold. For the first time in his life, Alfred has a peer, a friend, a sibling who cannot die. Who will not leave him. He didn't know he could miss someone before they existed. It's hard to quantify with how much intensity Alfred just automatically and instantly adored Matt. He's got so many goddamn emotions. Alfred's still little himself, and he's feeling so many things he's crying a bit and someone asks him what's wrong and he's just like "😭I don't know I just love him so much!"

#the ask box || probis pateo #hws america #hws canada #matthew || my country is winter #fairybait || baby alfred being chunky and cursed #alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies #alfred and matt || lonely boys with the longest borders

[bubbledtee]

surprising early-mid!90s!james with you and your baby while he’s doing soundcheck by letting your baby run up and hug his leg and he gets so shocked but immediately picks them up and cuddles?? i’m inconsolable

i'm very much in a baby fever type of mood right now and this is just melting my heart. and i'm imagining load era james rn because i need him.

you'd have stayed behind at the hotel, letting james go to the obnoxiously early soundcheck alone while you waited for your daughter to wake up on her own time. both you and james had learned since the very start that, if you didn't need to wake her, then don't. the consequences would far outweigh the upsides to getting an early start to the day.

your daughter would wake up only 30-45 minutes later, her hair frazzled as she stood up in her pack n play crib, her favorite stuffed animal clung to her side.

"daddy?" you'd hear her voice softly say, causing you to peak out from the bathroom where you had previously been getting ready to look at the drowsy toddler.

you'd walk over and pick her up from the crib, her head immediately moving to sleepily lean against your shoulder. "daddy's not here, baby." you'd coo softly, heading over to your suitcase to pick out an outfit for her.

she'd pout softly before speaking in her simple, toddlerish manner. "where daddy?"

you'd set her on the floor, your fingers gingerly running through her short, blonde curls as you continued to rummage through your suitcase. "daddy's with uncle lars, uncle kirk, and uncle jason. they've gotta make sure they'll be ready to play for all those people tonight," you'd tell her, "we can go see them, but we've gotta get you dressed first, okay?"

your daughter would nod, and within 20 minutes, you were out of the hotel and on the way to the venue, your daughter overly enthusiastic about seeing james.

when you got to the venue, you'd hear your husband's strong voice booming throughout the air over the sound of heavy guitars and drums. you'd make your way to the backstage, the roadies letting you in with a big smile to your daughter as she held your hand and walked beside you.

"hi!" she'd say with a wave every time you passed by a new group of roadies, earning waves and greetings back. you'd just laugh as you continued to make your way toward the stage, only stopping at the band's dressing room to find the small, pink noise cancelling headphones you knew would lay in james's wardrobe case.

"gotta cover up your ears, right, sweetpea?" you'd ask as you unfolded the headphones and began to slip them over the toddler's head.

"yeah!" she'd nod as you settled them carefully over her ears.

as soon as the headphones were safe and secure, you'd find your way to the stage, your daughter leading the way as you told her which way to turn. eventually, you'd find the opening to the stage and call your daughter back to you as the band practiced King Nothing.

"come here, we can watch daddy." you'd pick your daughter up and stand off to the side of the stage, watching the guys play, and as soon as they finished, you'd set your daughter on the ground and let her run over to james. you'd follow behind, simply walking over.

your daughter would hug james's leg as he spoke with the other guys, a squeal leaving her as she shouted up at him, "daddy!"

at the feeling of her wrapping her tiny arms around his calf, he'd turn to look at her and immediately smile so wide. "baby!" he'd shout back, picking her up and peppering her face with kisses. "how are you, sweetpea? daddy missed you so much,"

she'd wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tight, the sight making your heart swell. he'd hug her back, despite the guitar strap that hung over his shoulder. "love you," your daughter would mutter to him.

"oh, baby," he'd kiss her cheek as she pulled away, "daddy loves you, too."

you'd rub a hand over james's lower back as you stood beside him, drawing his attention to you. "hi, honey." he'd smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"hi," you'd smile back, looking at your daughter as she was now distracted with waving at the other guys.

"hey, kid!" jason would giggle, waving at the little girl. she'd giggle too, resting her head against james's shoulder.

im ending this here rn because im so sleepy rn

#so sorry if this sucks #im so creatively drained #james hetfield #papa het #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #ask #anon #bub’s thoughts #metallica

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, day 30: Cuddling

Spirktober may be over but it lives on in my heart and also in my NaNoWriMo goals. I am firmly of the belief that Spock would be a HUGE snuggler if not for the repression, so here's a little of that leaking through.

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

The first time that it happened, Kirk laid awake the entire night. Terrified to move and accidentally wake Spock and break the moment, terrified that Spock would read his unshielded emotions in his sleep and learn the depth of his feelings, and terrified that Spock would roll away anyway and release him, he laid as still as he was capable. For the next four hours, he lay perfectly unmoving in the unexpected embrace of his best friend and tried not to think about how much he liked it.

Spock’s chest was pressed to his back, and he felt his even breathing ruffling the shorn hair on the back of his neck. His arm was slung loosely over Kirk’s stomach, fingertips dangling down, barely brushing his stomach when he breathed in. He had rolled over in his sleep --- which was a surprise, because Kirk assumed that he slept in his preliminary corpse-like position until he had rested for precisely the necessary amount of time --- and he had not hesitated before he crossed the middle line of the bed into Kirk’s space. 

They weren’t even supposed to be sharing a bed. There had been a miscommunication of some sort, assumptions had been made between the diplomatic corps and the host planet’s delegation, and Uhura had apologized to them profusely until Spock had said, in his gentle, even tone, “It is of no matter, Lieutenant,” and she fell silent. But now, as Kirk tried not to breathe too deeply or enjoy the sensation too much, he wondered exactly what had been of no matter, because it mattered a lot to him. 

It mattered too much to him, actually. More than was wise, more than was responsible, or appropriate, and it was the only secret he had ever kept from Spock, and as long as he didn’t fall asleep and dream he might still keep it yet. 

When Spock woke up, he was so close to Kirk that Kirk felt his eyelashes flutter against the back of his neck. Spock froze, and Kirk’s heart sank as he gently but firmly extricated himself from Kirk’s personal space and rolled over. He gave Spock thirty seconds to himself before he rolled over as well, pretending to wake up. 

“Hey,” he said. “Morning.” 

“Good morning, captain,” Spock said, sitting on the edge of the bed, not looking at him, and then he fled to the bathroom. As the muted thunder of the sonic shower turned on, Kirk pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and tried not to groan. Intimacy with Spock, even just as friends, was always one step forwards and three steps back. He didn’t want to consider how many steps back accidentally taking your captain in your arms would put them.

☆☆☆

The second time it happened, they weren’t even sharing a bed. The jail cell that they shared was underground, with only a tiny slit in the door to let in the ambient light from the hallway. Kirk, Spock, Chekov, and their security officer, Lieutenant Aisha, had been captured by the leaders of a rebel faction and unceremoniously deposited in the only cell in their so-called stronghold before the door was slammed behind them. They sat for hours, half-heartedly attempting to raise the rest of the crew or the Enterprise on their comms, until Aisha stretched with a jaw-cracking yawn. 

“Shifts?” Aisha asked. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Sulu said. Kirk laid down in the corner, feeling some sort of straw or hay beneath him, and crossed his fingers that he wasn’t about to discover another allergy. In the darkness he sensed movement close beside him, and someone radiated inhuman body heat at him. He was suddenly and electrically aware of the body next to his. He wished he was less tired so he could focus more on how unnecessarily close Spock had chosen to sit, but after the events of the day he could barely keep his eyes open in the dark. 

He fell asleep to the sound of Spock’s even breathing beside him. At some point in the night, he woke up again to movement behind him. A strong arm in Starfleet-grade fabric was sliding across his stomach, pulling him back against a broad chest, long legs entangling with his. Jesus Christ, Kirk thought, as his first officer settled into stillness again. His nose was against the back of Kirk’s neck, his forehead pressed into his hair, and his hand had come to rest possessively over Kirk’s heart. 

The first time had been an absolute surprise. Kirk had never seen Spock so much as give someone a hug upright, let alone cuddle in his sleep. But, as he started to drift off to sleep again, he found that though his mind had not considered the idea, his heart had been hoping that it would happen again. He could feel Spock’s steady heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt, against his ribs, and the heat of his hand scorched his chest in a way that he wished would leave a mark. Despite the terms of their confinement, despite being trapped away from the ship with a fight looming on the horizon, he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about how things were going. He memorized how it felt to have Spock pressed against him, bony ankles digging into his legs, before he fell asleep. 

At some point in the night he because aware that Spock had disentangled himself from him to take a watch shift, and even as he slipped back into sleep he registered that it was cold without him, and he missed him. 

The next time he woke, Spock had tapped him lightly on the shoulder and said, “Your watch, captain,” as he struggled awake. The cell was still dark, and he could no longer determine what time he thought it was, but he sat up and said, “Thank you, Mr. Spock.” He leaned against the wall near where he had been sitting as Spock laid down beside him again, and he resisted the urge to place his hand over Spock’s shoulder. 

Was Spock aware of what he was doing in his sleep? Was it a reflection of his conscious desires, or was it just an instinctive urge to be warm? Was it about Kirk, or was it just about having a warm body nearby? 

Kirk wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answers. For now, as long as he didn’t know, he could indulge the dream that Spock might someday reciprocate his feelings. He replayed the feeling of Spock’s hand resting against his chest, and when their cell door opened a few hours later he gratefully gave himself over to the mindless repetition of fighting and pushed the evening, and his wants, from his mind. 

☆☆☆

Kirk was pretty sure that this was going to be the last time. They had been huddled together in the cave for so long that his teeth had stopped chattering, which could not be a good sign. He knew that the Enterprise crew had to be looking for them, would have started a search party as soon as the ice shelf had crumbled under their feet, but they had fallen quite a ways, and the snow would have already covered their tracks. He thought there was a high chance that they would die in the cave they had found, but the fear that the idea might have inspired was partially dampened by the fact that he was with Spock, and Spock was holding him, and they were both awake. 

His head was tucked under Spock’s chin, and he was essentially in his lap, with Spock’s arms wrapped around him. They had fortunately had their packs with them, and had layered all the spare fabric and emergency blankets they had over the both of them. Spock’s body heat had originally warmed them both, but as the hours passed the heat leached away until they were clinging to each other and trying not to think about the inevitable. Kirk’s body had passed the point of feeling painfully cold and was no longer feeling much of anything. He was only aware of Spock’s arms around him, and his own hands tucked inside Spock’s shirt, and the rise and fall of Spock’s chest against his shoulder. Everything else had been stolen by the ice. 

“Sorry, Spock,” Kirk eventually mumbled. 

“For what, captain?” Spock’s heartbeat had been slowing in the cold, like a Terran reptile’s, and his voice was quiet. 

Kirk squeezed, arms wrapped as they were around Spock. “This can’t be comfortable for you.” 

Spock was quiet for a long moment, and Kirk was afraid that he had fallen asleep before he said, “On the contrary, captain.” Kirk blinked. Spock reclasped his arms around Kirk, pulling him more securely against his chest, and lowered his head to rest his cheek against Kirk’s hair. 

“Really?” Kirk asked, lips numb, trying to keep the balloon of hope swelling in his chest from changing his tone. “I was under the impression that you were not in favor of physical touch, Mr. Spock.” 

Another brutal pause. “I owe you an apology as well, captain.” 

“For what?” 

“For any discomfort I may have caused you previously.” 

“Discomfort, Mr. Spock?” 

Spock hesitated, and he never hesitated. Kirk forced his eyes open again. He wanted to remember this conversation, be present for it, even if it wasn’t going to matter in a few hours. They were finally talking about it. “On previous missions. When we have had to take rest overnight.” 

Ah. Those nights. The two nights that Kirk thought about every night before he went to sleep, alone, in his own bed, remembering the feeling of Spock’s hand on his heart. “You never caused me any discomfort, Mr. Spock. I feared that you were uncomfortable.” 

“You did not… mind?” Spock’s voice had lost its surety, and Kirk felt the rumble of it against him.

Kirk laughed softly, and his breath fogged the air between them. “No. I did not mind. And I don’t mind now.” 

Spock didn’t say anything, but Kirk could feel the gears of his brain turning. As Spock held him and did not pull away, he made up his mind. He thought that, here, at the end, he could be afforded a little recklessness. 

He lifted his head from Spock’s chest, and it took far more effort than it should have, but he wanted to see his friend’s face. Spock raised his head to look down at him, and their faces were so close that Kirk could feel Spock’s breath against his skin. His eyes were nearly black in the dim light reflecting off the snow outside. The alien planes of his cheekbones and eyebrows were familiar and lovely. 

“Spock,” he said. “I didn’t ever mind.” Spock inhaled sharply, and his eyes searched his. 

“Jim,” Spock said, and the desperation with which he said his name gutted him. His eyes were dark, and fixed on him. The cold had tinged him green where the tips of his ears were exposed. “I did not consider that my contact would be welcome. I had feared that our friendship would be damaged by my actions, which had exposed the desires I could not voice.”

Kirk smiled at him, even though the motion hurt his face. “What desires were those?” 

Spock pulled him closer again, settling him against his chest so Kirk’s head was pillowed in the hollow of his neck, and rested his chin against Kirk’s hair. “The desire to sleep alongside you and hold you. To be close to you. Like this.” 

The balloon of hope inside his chest had expanded three times in size. “I wanted that as well,” he murmured into Spock’s neck. “I want it still.” Spock’s arms tightened around him, and he thought he felt Spock’s lips press against his forehead.  

Against his best efforts, his eyes slid shut. Despite the cold, despite the dire straits in which they found themselves, he was warm. He wanted to fall asleep here and drift away, in the arms of the man he had loved for far too long. From somewhere very far away, he could hear Spock’s voice, but he could no longer make out what he was saying. He sounded upset. Kirk wanted to soothe him, to tell him everything was going to be alright because they were together, but he could not find his mouth to say the words. 

He fell asleep and did not dream. 

☆☆☆

The first thing he heard was the beeping of a biobed. Kirk would have known the steady thrumming of the heart monitor anywhere. He was on his back, in Medbay, and he recognized the familiar humming of his ship around him. 

When he opened his eyes, it was to the tiled ceiling of a private medical room. He was in a biobed, as he had thought, with intravenous drips coming out of both arms and three blankets piled on top of him. He wiggled his toes and bent his knees and found that everything seemed to be, for the most part, in working order. 

He struggled to remember how he had gotten there as he sat up, but there was nothing. In his mind, he could only imagine the cold, and the cave.

And Mr. Spock. He had been with Spock, and they had been slowly freezing to death together. Spock had told him… oh.

Kirk flung the blankets back, throwing himself from the bed. His legs responded slower than he expected and he staggered to the wall, leaning against it as he picked at the tape holding his IVs in. The biobed scanner beeping increased in volume, distressed at his sudden exit, and within seconds of the change Bones threw the door open. He crossed the room to Kirk in three huge steps, grabbing his hands, pulling them away from the IVs. 

“Jim, calm down, leave them alone---” 

“Where is he?” He pulled his hands from Bones’s, but Bones grabbed them again, steering him by the forearms back towards the bed. He was weaker than he thought. Since when had Bones been able to manhandle him? The backs of his knees hit the biobed and he sat heavily. 

“You’ve been through some serious nerve regeneration, Jim,” Bones said. “Stay.” 

“I’m fine,” he said, but he was not. Now that Bones mentioned it, he could feel the tingling and buzzing in his skin that told him he had spent a significant amount under a regenerator, and his bones ached. 

“You almost died, Jim,” Bones said. He held a cautioning hand out to Jim, and after a moment Jim slouched on the bed, the fight in him leaking away as Bones’s words sunk in. Bones sat down next to him on the bed, and the slump of his shoulders told Jim that he had been on his feet for hours. Jim leaned over, pressing his shoulder against his. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I owe you. Again.” 

“You owe Mr. Spock more,” Bones said, and leaned back against him. Kirk’s heart constricted painfully, and he closed his eyes. 

“Is he…? Is he here?” 

The silence between them felt like it lasted for an eternity before Bones said, “He’s here.” 

“And he’s…?” 

“He’s alive, Jim,” Bones said. Kirk let out his breath and laid back on the biobed, leaving his legs danging over the side. “It was a close thing, though. Damn desert species.” 

“How did you find us? The snowstorm…” 

“The hobgoblin tied you to his back and climbed out.” 

“Climbed out… of the cave?” 

“Of the gorge you fell into.” 

“He climbed… out of the gorge? The ice gorge?”

“The very one.” Bones turned to look at him. “As soon as Spock cleared the top of the ravine Scotty beamed you on board, and it was almost too late. You were both a mess.” 

Kirk covered his face with his hands and felt the skin on both burn with the contact. “How bad was the damage?” 

“To you or to him?” 

“Bones.” 

“The worst for you was the hypothermia. You mostly had nerve damage, and your organs had taken a beating. For him, though… the hypothermia was bad, sure, but the worst was his hands. Climbing the ice shredded them. With how sensitive Vulcan hands are… I have no idea how he got both of you out. We patched them up and he’ll be fine after a spell, but he’s going to be in the healing trance for a good while.” 

When Kirk thought he could speak without his voice shaking, he said, “I need to see him.” 

Bones sighed, but he stood and started gently removing the IVs from Kirk’s arms. “I thought you might say that.” 

Bones shut the door behind him, and Kirk was alone. Spock had also been placed in a private medical room, away from the noise and bustle of the central medbay room, and he lay perfectly still in the bed. Kirk approached, and the thick wrapping of bandages covering both of Spock’s hands broke his heart. He perched on the edge of the bed. He knew that the trance was deep enough that nothing he could do would wake him up, but he couldn’t defeat the urge to move quietly. 

Spock’s chest rose and fell with a comforting and steadying regularity. In his head, he heard Spock’s voice again: To be close to you. 

They had wasted so much time dancing around each other. They had almost died without knowing. Spock had sacrificed his hands against the ice to save them both, and he wasn’t going to waste the second chance that dangerous gamble had bought them.

Kirk carefully adjusted Spock’s arm, crossing the bandaged hand across his stomach, and slid into the bed beside him. He curled around him protectively, resting his head on his shoulder, sliding his hand across Spock’s stomach to press his palm to Spock’s heartbeat. 

He would wait until the trance was over and Spock was healed, and then they could figure out together what came next for them. For now, it was enough to hold Spock the way that he had held Kirk before, and know that he was wanted, and wait for Spock to wake. 

#spirk #spock #kirk #my writing #spirktober2023 #k/s fan fiction #kirk/spock fan fiction #star trek fan fiction #hurt/comfort #protective spock

[oculusxcaro]

Had a funny thought at work today about which of my muses are the most dangerous, particularly when it comes to biting somebody and the answer? It's this bitch right here.

So, Khare doesn't look very dangerous and why would she? She can't exactly fight, she isn't super strong nor does she have any super cool amazing powers like being able to shoot webs out of her wrists or freeze somebody solid with a single touch. She can drop her arm and regrow it (very) painfully though, and that is precisely WHY you're COMPLETELY FUCKING FUCKED if she ever bites you. Her mutation? It's eating her alive, but she's able to stave off the worst effects due to receiving consecutive injections that gave her immune system enough time to hunker down and start fighting back against these new invaders in their space. It can't stop the onslaught indefinitely but it does grant her time, a war of attrition if you will. Her DNA is doing everything it can to remain stable and keep the host going but eventually it'll all come tumbling down like a house of cards and then Khare will REALLY start looking bad. That all changes if she bites somebody because they did not receive the same chain injections and have absolutely NO resistance to the DNA-altering enzymes in her body. One bite is all it'll take for a few DNA fragments to become lodged in the unlucky victim's wound and while at the time it seems like a normal human bite, the damage it'll cause will be beyond catastrophic. It won't start off that way. Hell, the wound might even heal unusually quick but it's as normal a bite as a human can give. You'll forget it even happened and life will go on as normal for a little while, that is until the itching starts. It'll start in the area where the bite occured, an incessant itch that won't go away no matter how many times you scratch it. That feeling will eventually spread across the afflicted area, running up your limbs, into your torso, wherever the hell that fucking waitress bit you for whatever goddamn reason. It just won't stop and not even heavy painkillers or booze will touch it. Then the itching'll get worse, and soon you see... things beneath your skin, strange little hives. Except... they're not hives, they're tiny fucking eyes and lumps of abnormal tissue that keeps rising to the surface, spreading like a rash as your skin just... starts to melt. You're hot, you're clammy, you're plagued by relentless thirst and drink and drink and drink except it's a thirst that cannot be quenched, and you're just so fucking hot and itchy you're about to claw your skin off except that'll just make the whole process move even faster. You start melting. Skin sloughs off like musty old clothes, new flesh trying and trying to replace what was lost except this mutation was never intended for you. What was once a foreign body has now inoculated in your very own immune system long enough to turn it against you, destroying you from within right down to your very last cell. You stop thinking, you can't think because your organs are all liquifying including your brain and if you're *still* alive at this point, you've never wished for anything harder than for it all to just end already. If Roman bites you, it's going to fucking hurt but it'll heal depending on how hard he did it. If Man-Bat bites you, you might need a blood transfusion because of the draculin in his saliva. If Kirk bites you, he was being kinky. ;') If Stoplight bites you however, say goodbye to whatever limb he got ahold of. If Copperhead bites you, count yourself lucky if you only end up in hospital but if Khare bites you, you are already dead. You just don't know it yet. So... yeah. Try to avoid any love bites from this girl because whatever you think it's worth, it's really really not. Trust me on that one. x

#🌈 || musings #🌈 || headcanons #body horror tw #body horror cw #I CANNOT EMPHASIZE HOW BAD THIS ACTUALLY IS #Do NOT read if you are squeamish about illnesses or disease because it's gonna get gnarly in here #But if you're okay with gross stuff and death then go right ahead #Don't say I didn't want you <3 #Had a bit of a rough shift today so wanted to do something a little self-indulgent #Not a bad day per say just tough #Lots of rearranging going on and the heaters are borked running full blast #So it was ✨ uncomfy ✨

[urbandunsel]

clipping this entire scene because it is undoubtedly one of my favorites in star trek tos

- spock's concentrated, wordless stare while the other two talk behind him. probably guiding himself through some much needed meditation - alexander's reluctance to touch him, even if to comfort, just cautious of the vulcan that's been pushed past his limits - bones and kirk worried for him, watching from a distance and entirely aware that he's not as composed as he's trying to appear - spock's first concern lies with kirk's health and mental well-being before confiding that he, too, has been ruined by the humiliation - "i have noted that the healthy release of emotion is frequently very unhealthy for those closest to you" !!! wow! what a line! spock fears exhibiting emotion, even more so when it threatens those he cares about. he'd much rather remain logical especially when it protects his friends - kirk's sympathetic gaze before he sits down beside spock, relaxing his tone and ready to console - (spock still with his stare pointed forward, his posture unchanged. doing his best to guide himself back down from his anger) - though nimoy is taller than shatner, spock is significantly smaller than kirk in these frames. hunched, limbs close together, head slouched. not as broad and confident as he usually presents himself - also tiny detail but i love how lazy his clasped fingers become as the scene progresses, slanting to the side like he's indifferent about maintaining his perfect, angular posture and mannerisms - spock checking how kirk and bones feel about their anger towards parmen. spock, as if he's figured it out and is absolutely fine, instructs them on what to do like he doesn't need any further help himself - "then you must release it, gentlemen, as i must master mine" - nimoy killed it here. avoiding any eye contact with kirk. his voice dropping low, whispery, his words slow and restrained. - (personal opinion) this scene frightens me in terms of spock's anger far more than portrayals such as snw or aos. the muted, tense dialogue and vacant expression (with props to nimoy's talent again) are so disconcerting to witness. it feels more realistic, in terms of both actual reality and vulcan tendencies, to clam up and withdraw before one becomes overwhelmed and does not want to lash out. it's a demonstration of intense compartmentalizing when faced with something perhaps traumatizing to spock - and of course, the vase shattering. it's about the most we get of spock's unadulterated anger in tos. he petrifies himself immediately after, likely still fighting like hell in his head - kirk rising, eyeing him with worry, unsure of what to say. now both men are at their full height and spock is taller--as usual--though it's a contrast to how they were positioned seconds ago. spock, though containing himself, is teetering on the edge of anger and physically appears to be as strong or stronger than kirk, posing a threat if he were to become genuinely enraged. he'd be far more frightening than any human, physically and psychologically, if he lashed out. this idea was of course explored in "this side of paradise" - bones calling kirk away. "jim." similar to his earlier line "there is no medicine that can help him, he'll have to come through this himself." perhaps feeling for spock but recognizing there is nothing they nor their words can do for him - not once does spock look at either of them during this scene. so much is left unsaid, yet so much is shown. such good writing and acting. 10/10

#star trek tos #spock #mr spock #james t kirk #bones #leonard mccoy

[sealrock]

what do the emojis mean on your post?

hey anon, if you mean my blog in general I use emojis as a tagging system for my characters since it's easier to keep track of because I'm usually on the app

they're linked in my pinned post but here's a breakdown of who's who and the symbolism (or lack thereof) behind them. gonna put this under a read more since it's gonna be long:

roster emojis:

🍃 = paris. a lively leaf floating through the wind with no sense of direction. paris and hector share the same motifs as being leaves that fell off the tree and how far they've traveled

🍂 = hector. a dried up rotten leaf that stopped drifting in the wind, very fragile and brittle. it will crumble under the slightest pressure

🥀 = andromache. a wilting rose. the tatlongharis have a flower motif so I wanted to keep up that symbolism with andi being a dying rose with no water (aka emotional support)

💀 = kirke. a skull. it's kinda funny because this emoji is used in comedic situations but it represents kirke's undead state and her not truly being alive as a cloud of nanomachines. decay is a common theme for her

⚰️ = yves. a coffin and a leftover from yves' earlier characterization as an undead, or half-dead, void knight. I may end up changing this once I finalize his new lore since it doesn't fit his aesthetic anymore (less immortal aether vampire being and more psycho mantis mgs mixed with alma wade f.e.a.r.)

🎐 = tauvane. a stationary wind chime. I actually couldn't find a nice emoji for her in the beginning since the newer ones don't display correctly on web browsers (at least for me since I'm still on win10). it doesn't really fit her current lore but her and achille share weather motifs

🌻 = evander. a bright sunflower that falls in line with the tatlongharis flower theme. it represents happiness and a good life, which is the total opposite of evander's backstory and personality

🌼 = patroclus. it's a white daisy (but it looks like a yellow flower on mobile) and connects him to the tatlongharis. daisies symbolize innocence and purity, just like him

🌪️ = achille. a tornado to symbolize his turbulent emotions and now retconned weather powers. back when I started developing achille he was supposed to have sea/water motifs because tauvane was originally a pirate

romantic emojis:

💐 = hector/andromache. a bouquet of flowers that's meant to symbolize their previous relationship when everything was good and quaint

🌤️ = achille/patroclus. a sun and a cloud. patroclus is the sun (bright and warm) and achille is the tiny cloud (meant to be his hidden desires slowly becoming seen)

⛓️ = yves/kirke. a link of chains. their relationship is more violent and toxic to contrast hector and andi. they're chained together because they're drawn to each other's dark desires and impulses

platonic emojis:

🌿 = hector & paris. it's technically an herb but I see it as a plant farther along in growth compared to paris and their mom. despite their own issues, paris and hector got along well until the end

🌱 = andromache & paris. a sprout or seedling that struggles to grow. keeping with the general plant/nature theme with the tatlonghari x wormwood families, the relationship between parent and child is slow going, but there's a chance for it to bloom

🌧️ = tauvane & achille. a sad rain cloud. this is also a leftover from their previous characterizations but it seems to fit their current stages of development since tragedy is a motif shared between mother and son

🏵️ = tatlonghari family. a golden rosette that I imagine as their family crest. this is a catchall emoji for the npcs and parts of my ocs that are affiliated with the family; familial trauma is a major theme here

#inbox #anonymous #hope this helps for anyone curious!

[llittletingoddess]

Borderline

Midnight at the big city

At the bar drinking all on my own

Just thinking about that girl and me

How something's going wrong...

---------------------------------------

Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.4k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

---------------------------------------

July, 2022.

The evening Los Angeles always captivated the gaze of millions. Lavish parties, tipsy girls, expensive outfits... Perhaps the dream of any foreigner. After all, that's what the American Dream looks like, right? But when you're a little over 50, all these delights of life become less interesting. People consider you worn-out material because you're no longer in the loop — how do people over 50 dare to show up at the same gatherings as the hottest Hollywood stars? James Hetfield? Cool... Oh, look, it's Doja Cat with a bald head!

Yeah, LA is quite the dump. But no matter how much he hated this place, there's nowhere else to go.

James sat at the bar of some dubious pub where you'd never expect to find a celebrity, let alone one of his caliber. Leaning on his left arm, he watched the bubbles rise in his glass. He despised himself for this decision. Going through another rehab treatment and then relapsing— it was the act of a pitiful man. He promised his family, but mostly to himself, that he would never drink again. And yet, he relapsed. How foolish. When did his life spiral down into such an abyss? There's hardly any time for reflection between tours and recording albums. You have a contract and obligations — fulfill them. No one cares about what's going on inside you. On stage, you have to be the same superstar you were 30 years ago. At this rate, it's easy to turn into a soulless money-making machine. But he does it not so much for himself as for his family.

Family...

Returning to reality, James emptied his glass in one gulp and slammed it back on the counter, furrowing his brow. Was it the bitterness of the drink? He knew very well that it wasn't. Looking at the glass, he waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the bartender.

"Another one."

"Of course, sir."

Curious whispers started circulating in the pub. James Hetfield, the frontman of Metallica, in such a simple pub on the outskirts of Los Angeles! But he paid no attention. Let them whisper — public life was never easy. Taking out his wallet from the inner pocket of his jacket, James pulled out a bill and placed it on the counter, his gaze lingering on a tiny photograph that was always with him. Kirk and Lars considered it slightly strange, but when did he ever listen to them?

In the photograph, it was him and his family. There was little Marcella, who threw tantrums throughout the photoshoot, first-grader Cali, who hadn't lost her charm over the years, Castor, his pride and the heir to his legacy… and Francesca. James looked at her attentively: big blue eyes, light hair, a modest smile… It seemed like he found a literal copy of himself, someone he could always talk to, laugh with, and share stories with their children on Christmas. And how wonderful she was in bed! James had tried numerous experiments, but it was Francesca who managed to conquer Big Het's heart. She was so simple, so beautiful, his one and only…

"Here you go, sir."

A new glass of alcohol brought him back to reality. Somewhere in the background, an old Thin Lizzy song played, but he didn't care. Soon everyone would find out, and that annoyed him the most. Tabloids would write made-up reasons, attribute an affair with some socialite, and that would be the end of it. Why did it even matter to anyone why this happened? Peace — that's all he wanted at the moment.

Setting aside his wallet, James reached for the glass again. Only now did he realize that he hadn't thanked the bartender. Well, to hell with it. His hand trembled slightly, whether from nerves or the reawakening addiction. It consumes you, whispers in your head like a serpent in paradise, gripping you with its dead hold, and you'll never be the same again. Suddenly, James decided to look at his wrist's tattoo, which he got shortly after completing the first rehab program. "Lead us not into temptation." Yeah… he didn't feel like drinking anymore.

Rummaging through his pockets, Hetfield discovered a nearly whole cigar. Nowadays, he started smoking much more often, despite protests from those around him. "Stop it, you'll ruin your voice!" Lars, Kirk, and Rob all pleaded in unison. But he alone was responsible for himself and his health. Bringing the ashtray closer, he lit the cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke with a sigh of relief. The high-quality tobacco pleasantly scorched his throat, providing the long-awaited relief. But thoughts kept replaying that conversation, as if on a cheap record:

"Francesca, I think we should get a divorce."

"What?! But why?!"

Why?..

He himself didn't know for sure. After rehab, when everything seemed like it should be getting better, everything began to crumble: the pandemic, concerts, the studio, more concerts, more studio time, endless evenings in his office with a guitar in hand… but she didn't need that. She needed him primarily as a husband and father. "You're never home with all your concerts!" But how could she not understand that he was doing it so she wouldn't need anything?..

"Shit!"

A sharp pain pierced his wrist. The cigarette ash fell directly onto the knuckle of his finger. James disgustedly flicked the remaining ashes into the ashtray and sighed. He hardly felt the pain because his soul hurt more. His heart was shattered into tiny pieces, and no amount of alcohol or cigarettes could soothe it. Here he was, James Hetfield, the leader of the world's most popular metal band, sitting on his pile of money in complete solitude: his children had grown up and scattered (on tours, he hardly noticed how quickly his little birds grew up), he had divorced his wife, and besides fame, he had nothing left. But can fame provide the same care and tenderness that his beloved Francesca gave him? The question remained unanswered. And now what? Who needs an old man with a weakening body and the beginnings of deafness?

Taking another drag, James finally looked around. His gaze was drawn to a young girl who smiled back at him discreetly. Clearly a fan, one of the tens of thousands. Perhaps that was his only option - to find a young girl to spend his money on. She wouldn't nag him, but she would provide satisfaction. Sex for money, and with a girl who could pass for his daughter?! James cringed at the thought. At least not now. He wasn't ready yet. And perhaps he never would be because no one could piece together his heart again. No one except Francesca.

A notification buzzed. Judging by the familiar sound, James knew it was their secret chat with the guys. Taking out his smartphone from his pocket, he read the message:

"Hey guys, how about jamming with that new riff James wrote last week? If we don't get our fucking album moving, the fans will tear us apart!"

"I'm out, sorry. Need to help Cali with the move."

"Whatever you say, Mama Het!"

James smiled. Lars' cheeky language always made him smile, although he had long memorized all of the Danish jokes. Imagining the grumpy little Lars grumbling at everyone around him was amusing. The guys shouldn't know. At least, not yet. Their families had become one long ago, and any division always came with stress in the group. And what would happen when they found out about James' divorce? He had been a model family man, 25 years of marriage! He didn't want them to pity him. It would immediately lead to suggestions of seeing psychologists, sympathetic looks, and phrases like, "Maybe you'll still reconcile?" We won't reconcile. However much he regretted the decision, there simply was no other way. Maybe without him, Francesca would be happier. His one and only, his dear Fran.

Midnight approached. The streets grew louder, and the pub filled with new people. James felt uncomfortable in such conditions. The sheer number of people only intensified his loneliness. How was he supposed to give the remaining concerts of this year in such a state?! He needed to gather himself. Both at home and within himself. Thanking the bartender, he extinguished his cigarette and, casting a fleeting glance at the untouched glass of whiskey, smirked bitterly. There was no turning back; ahead lay concerts, the studio, the release of new music. He sincerely believed that music could distract him. James walked out of the pub, plugged in his headphones, and played one of the demo songs from Metallica's upcoming album. Well then.

It's time to start over.

#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fanfic #metallica #i'm so shy to post it

[raddocwrites]

SNW drabbles

Little is as little does

Una sat at the table enjoying a cup of tea musing at how strange life in Starfleet could be. The others murmured quietly. Chapel and ortegas had their heads together, whispering. Una knew this should probably worry her, but at the moment, she found she didn’t care. The captain sat with Mbenga going over the medical data.

Suddenly una felt a presence register next to her and she jumped. Little la’an had appeared silently at her side and now stood staring at her expectantly. Una pressed a hand to her chest and let out a breath. “La’an,” she said quietly in way of greeting.

The little girl didn’t move, just stared at una as if waiting for something.

Una shifted so she faced the tiny girl. Little la’ans face was pink with sleep and her check had creases in it from the pillow. Her always precise braids were beginning to unravel slightly. Una couldn’t help but smile at the precious sight. She leaned forward. “You want something?” The tiny head nodded. “You want to sit in my lap?”

La’an nodded again emphatically.

Una lifted the little girl easily and smiled as la’an rearranged herself like a particularly snuggly cat, until she was comfortable. She sat sideways in unas lap, being supported by one of unas strong arms, her head resting above unas heart. Una briefly lay her head against la’ans, then placed a kiss to dark hair. She clasped her other hand onto the wrist supporting the girl and held on loosely.

Little la’an nestled further into una and number one couldn’t stop her smile. She watched as a head poked up from the bed and tiny uhuras giggles filled the captains quarters. She slid off the bed and scampered towards the table. Baby spock followed at a more logical pace.

The others had noticed little la’an when the commander eased her into her lap. They tried not to melt with how adorable it was watching their fierce number one cuddle their even more terrifying Lt nonnien signh-infamous for making ensigns cry. And what was all the more heartwarming, was the fact that baby la’an allowed herself to be comforted. For once, she accepted the care and love that she needed.

Tiny uhura grabbed onto Mbenga and ortegas hands. Baby spock appeared between chapel and captain pike. Then they were all off running, playing another game of tag.

Una looked down at the little girl in her lap. She gently stroked la’ans cheek. Dark eyes looked up at her with a question. “Do you want to play?” una asked softly.

La’ans face darkened with something una couldn’t identify. But the little girl shook her head and una didn’t push it. Not everyone liked tag. Being chased. Being hunted. Prey, una couldn’t help but think. She let out a slow breath and kissed the top of la’ans head again. She was just glad she got to relax and watch as all the other adults ran breathlessly around the room.

The doors opened with a sudden whoosh and pelia entered. She had an amused look on her face as she joined una at the table. “So. This is where you are all hiding,” she said slyly.

Una raised an eyebrow. It didn’t matter what the chief engineer said, it always sounded a bit sly to una. “I don’t know if I would say hiding?”

Pelia shrugged. “Well, that’s good. Because Lt kirk has been going around blabbing about how spock, uhura and la’an have been turned into the most ADORABLE children, to anyone who will listen. Half the crew is lingering in the corridor just to sneak a peak!”

Una scowled. “That is most unprofessional! Lt kirk should know better than to disclose personal information about other members of the crew. And you would think the rest of the ship would be mature enough not to want to witness the misfortune of others.” She reflexively held la’an a little tighter.

Pelia just raised an eyebrow and examined baby la’an resting in unas arms. “Indeed,” she said noncommittally. She didn’t make any of the several comments that sprang to mind at the sight, since she knew the commander would appreciate none of them. She chose a safer option. “I do not know if their intent is malicious, or if they just want to…see another side of the people they already know.”

Una just harrumphed and adjusted in her seat. “Yes. Well. Wait until the next time one of them gets transformed into a weird, alien, space-creature sprouting numerous tentacles and see how they like it.” Pelias eyes twinkled as she held in a laugh. The commander truly was fiercely protective, and equally as blind, when it came to her attachment to la’an. “Whatever you say,” she agreed without really agreeing.

Unas eyes cut to hers again but she just said, “You’ve finished analyzing the data from the shuttle?”

Pelia nodded. “I have,” she agreed. “There-“

But a loud shriek cut her off. In the heartbeat it took for una to recognize the sound as baby uhuras delighted, giggly scream, la’an was off her lap and across the room. She barreled into Mbenga who stumbled back in surprise.

La’an planted herself in front of tiny uhura, one hand gripping the other girl and holding uhura behind her, the other raised defensively. She panted, every part of her tense and her eyes flicked wildly around the room.

Everyone froze for a moment. La’an didn’t seem to know what to do. No further threats showed themselves and her breathing grew more ragged the longer time seemed to stretch.

Uhura gently rested a hand on la’ans shoulder. The girl flinched. Spock placed himself between la’an and the adults all watching her apprehensively. “You have upset my sisters,” spock informed them angrily.

Una calmly rose and filed spocks comment away for later. She slowly approached. She could see la’an start to shake, her breathing just sharp gasps. Tiny uhura squeezed la’ans shoulder and whispered reassuringly. Baby spock shifted his attention between his sisters and keeping the adults back.

But la’an shrugged out of uhuras hands. Her eyes were wide with fear and she shook her head sharply, as if trying to get rid of unwanted images. She whipped her hands out, fighting off enemies no one else could see. She couldn’t hear it when spock tried to tell her the monsters couldn’t get her here. She was already someplace else.

Una felt spocks eyes on her as she passed. She knelt in front of la’an without touching the frightened girl. She searched for those familiar dark eyes.

La’an ducked her head, avoiding all eye contact. Her nostrils flared like she could almost smell the blood. She jerked her head, hearing something click. Someone scream. NO. She ground her teeth and shuffled back. NO.

La’ans whole body trembled and her jaw worked so ferociously una could hear it. Her tiny hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Her breath stuttered unevenly and tears streamed unnoticed down her face.

Unas heart twisted viscously but she forced herself to remain calm, collected. “La’an,” she said softly, still on her knees searching for her friends eyes. “Youre safe la’an. uhura and spock are safe too.”

La’an just shook her head. She still had her hands up, warding off unwanted assaults as her whole body quivered.

“Youre okay, la’a.” unas voice was steady and soothing.

La’an shook her head again more fiercely. She struck out at nothing once more. Then she tucked her arms close to her and began to rock slightly, grinding her teeth. She sucked in short, staccato breaths.

Una slowly raised her hands so la’an could see. Not that una thought the girl would be able to see, wherever her mind had taken her. (Una knew where). “Youre okay,” she repeated softly. She gently brought her arms around tiny la’an and drew her forward.

La’an flinched and resisted. But after several seconds, she melted into the warmth holding her. She let out a harsh, ragged breath and sagged.

Una tightened her hold as la’an went limp. She cradled the girl to her chest firmly and held a protective hand to the back of la’ans head, tucking her cheek against soft, dark hair. She never stopped murmuring that la’an was safe. It was okay.

La’an buried her face into unas neck and broke down. She cried. She couldn’t stop the tears. Her whole body shuddered as she clung to unas uniform.

Una just held la’an. She kissed the top of la’ans head then returned her cheek there. She rocked slowly back and forth. She could feel la’ans silent tears soaking her uniform and it made her heart hurt.

Una held la’an as she wept. As silent sobs wracked her body. As she spasmed and ground her teeth harshly. As her fists twisted ruthlessly in unas tunic. As it seemed like she wrung every bit of fear and anguish from her tiny body. Una held her and whispered her name over and over again. Telling her she was safe. That everything was going to be okay.

When la’ans tears had finally slowed and she merely shivered instead of trembled uncontrollably, spock appeared at unas shoulder. He pointed to the couch where tiny uhura was arranging a plethora of pillows and blankets into a fort.

Una smiled at baby spock and followed him. She sat and he and uhura quickly put the finishing touches onto their cocoon of safety. Then they settled onto each side of una. Spock squeezed la’ans shoulder gently. “The monsters cant get us here. We are safe,” he whispered in his musical voice.

Uhura nodded and leaned into una. She rested her head against la’ans side and held onto the other little girls leg. “Its okay, la’an,” she assured her. “We are okay.”

But una knew that for la’an, ‘we’ would never be okay, since so many of her people were gone forever. She stroked a hand softly over la’ans hair. The tiny girl had started sucking her thumb at some point but una hadn’t noticed. Not that she could blame her. She just held la’an closer and slowly trailed her fingers over la’ans hair.

Slowly, the little girl in her lap seemed to uncoil. Her breathing finally returned to its steady, normal rhythm. Eventually, she stopped sucking her thumb and snuggled deeper into una. Then she reached down for the tiny people next to her. Uhura grasped her hand with a grin and spock quickly took the other offered hand. They both leaned heavily into una, not that she minded in the least.

Una couldn’t see the others in the room due to the blanket fort but she finally registered their voices. They were speaking quietly about what pelia had found. Una knew she should care, but at the moment she just didn’t.

#star trek strange new worlds #una chin riley #number one #la'an noonien singh #christine chapel #nyota uhura #erica ortegas #christopher pike #doctor m'benga #drabbles

[klirk-hammurton]

Exploring A Haunted House With Your Favorite Metallica Member(s)

James Hetfield

Is against the idea at first, but relents and joins you

Has a duffel bag full of shit. We're talking flashlights, matches, snacks, probably has a pair of brass knuckles because he'd totally fight a ghost for you

Yells "I swear to fucking fuck if anyone fucks with me I will fuck you up!" He likes to be a big tough guy

Is low key scared but refuses to admit it

Will enter every room first just to make sure that its safe for you

Knocks down any spiderwebs from doorways for you. He's such a gentleman

Throws a flash light at any moving shadow. Takes. No. Chances. PISS OFF GHOST!

He's a screamer. Don't laugh at him. He startles easily but will play it off by laughing to cover up that he got spooked.

DON'T TOUCH THE DUSTY BOOKS! He won't let you touch anything. Horror movie logic. Bad spirits live in the books. No touchy.

Once he's comfortable he'd want to explore more abandoned houses

Kirk Hammett

Will straight up ask you to marry him because he loves spooky shit. You're forever his favorite human

Packs sleeping bags, snacks flashlights, candles, you name it. The man is ready for this.

He'd do research on the place and basically be your tour guide. He's obsessed with horror. Bless his little horror nerd heart

Would crack jokes like "if you're an evil spirit trying to kill me clap your hands".

Throws a candle stick at the first shadow figure he sees and then runs. Forgets you're standing there and runs back to grab you then makes another break for it.

Wants to explore a haunted house for every Halloween with you

Isn't scared at all. Boasts about how brave he is. Gets the shit scared out of him anyway

Would find some type of creepy souvenir to take home with him. "PUT THAT THING DOWN!" "......but it would go great in my horror collection....."

Buys ghost hunting equipment. He's now a self proclaimed professional at this.

When you get scared, he'll hold you close against his chest. He smells heavenly.

Cliff Burton

Looks at you like you're crazy but decides to go anyway because he loves you

He's completely against the idea but doesn't want you going alone. He's a protective boyfriend.

Refuses to let you enter the building or any room first. He's ready to kick anyone's ass if they want to be stupid

Forgets to pack extra batteries. Relieved that you planned ahead.

Packs extra cigarettes. "Of course you brought those and not batteries!" ..."in my defense, I'm not a ghost hunter...."

Finds exploring this haunted house to be pretty cool. Finds an empty room to tell spooky stories in. He's such a dork.

Acts tough as nails. Is low key scared af but too prideful to admit it. Winds up throwing his flashlight at something moving.

"I swear to God if anything or anyone jumps out, I will knock your fucking head off." He's such a tough guy. Look at him puffing out his chest and showing off for you.

Will not let go of your hand for nothing. Is he scared or just being protective? Plays it off as being protective. He doesn't want you running off and getting hurt

Bumps his head on the low doorframes. Bless his heart for being so tall. Freaks out because of the spiderwebs. Instant kung-fu master.

Lars Ulrich

Is absolutely against it. Not no. But HELL NO!

Relents at your pouting and refuses to let you go exploring with Kirk. "If he can do it then fine I'll do it too." Such a chaotic little Gremlin.

Over packs too much shit. Water and snacks for days. "Lars.....this is alcohol....." ....."if we're playing with ghosts, we mine as well have a good time."

Is instantly intimidated by how huge this house is. Would probably get lost in the labyrinth of halls.

Definitely throws his bag of supplies at a shadow figure and bolts the other way. Its his own shadow. "Look, I can explain. It was like, 7 feet tall okay?"

Is very unwilling to split up. Let's you go exploring by yourself. Is high key freaked out by every single little noise. Has watched too many horror movies with Kirk.

Gets too confident in himself. Scribbles a tiny "Lars was here" on a wall. Instantly regrets it when something growls at him.

Even freaked out he's very observant of you. Will pull you close to him if you get scared or something looks dangerous. He's a professional at this. He's had one too many horror flick marathons with Kirk

Would definitely punch out somebody if they tried scaring you. Would feel bad if it was kid. "I'm sorry but you deserve it you little shit!"

Brings a small vile of holy water. You can never be too safe. Threatens to use it on everything that moves.

Jason Newsted

Is really on the fence about it at first but starts to dig the idea because he gets to be a big tough guy.

Packs everything you'll need. Flashlights, candles, matches, snacks, water bottles, batteries. He's coming prepared. He was born for this.

He'll walk in front of you while holdiyour hand to make sure everything is safe. Knocks down the spiderwebs for you.

Probably finds some amateur ghost equipment to bring just to be a show off. Gets freaked out when he hears a spirit talk. Tries to play it off.

Touching walls and bookcases. "There's gotta be secret passages somewhere." Looks like a total dork rubbing the walls for the secret door that may or may not exist.

Gets distracted by some of the paintings hanging on the walls. "Absolutely not." ...."but it's such a rarity...." pouts a little but he'll get over it. Gets creeped out when the eyes start following you.

Holds you close if you get scared. His heart is racing too but he stays calm for you. He has a vile of holy water and a vile of salt for those pesky demons. If it works in Hollywood, it'll work here too

Probably gets lost finding that mythical hidden door. Instant regret when he can't find you. "This isn't how trap doors are supposed to work...."

Would stare suspiciously at a shadow and shine a light at it. Looks at you then back to the shadow "has that always been there?" ...."sweetie, that's YOUR shadow." Then it moves and he chucks a book or candle stick at it.

Finds a hole in the roof of the attic and finds it to be the perfect spot to watch the stars and full moon. Not everything has to be spooky.

Robert Trujillo

"You're joking right?" He's very skeptical about it. Between his Hispanic and native heritage, there's too many things that could go wrong. "We don't say the W name" ..."Wendigo?" ..."I SAID DON'T SAY IT!!!!"

You're confident that nothing can go wrong. Since your heart is set on it, he pushes his superstitions aside and joins you. Don't be surprised if he has blessed white sage, holy water, salt, probably a crucifix too.

He's on high alert. Can't tell if he's in a predatory or Prey state. Every noise is a threat. Tries to keep a brave face even though he's ready to throw you over his shoulder and bolt.

Low key digs the gargoyles decorating each peak of the dilapidated roof. Tries to keep himself from touching one by the stairs. Touches it anyway.

Has a bag full of supplies. Packs extra of everything. "Robbie....we're only going for a few hours. This bag could last a week...." hes he's over achiever. Better safe than sorry

Gets a little too into the spooky vibes. Starts to tell you spooky ghost stories from his Native heritage. Accidentally freaks himself out. Plays it off as part of the story. "I could be a Grade A actor."

Doesn't trust any of the animals harboring in the house. "THAT IS NOT A RAT! NO DON'T TRY TO TOUCH IT!"

When shot gets real, he'll protect you with his life. Stands in front you if a shadow figure moves. Nobody and nothing hurts his baby girl.

Holds your hand like a lifeline. You aren't going anywhere. You're sticking by his side no matter what.

He would want to do it again even he got the shit scared out of him

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