#SPOCK READING KIRKS PALM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spirk-trek · 3 months ago

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i did already send in one request, but if you really still want more, how about kirk's first time bottoming? maybe something where at first he's a little unsure because of the vulnerability/loss of control but ultimately feels safe with spock

hello anon... wow, it's been SO long since you sent this. i'm sorry my laptop broke before i got to you, but if you're still around, i hope you enjoy :) i’ve never written this kind of thing before so i'm sorry if the execution is a little clumsy. also, because tumblr, i can only post a few bits here.

read the rest on ao3!!!!!!!!!!!

~*~*~*~

Jim let out a delirious huff as his back hit the wall, bells from one of Spock’s several hanging decorations jingling. The sound was dainty. Timid, unlike the hands responsible for slamming him there. Those were fierce. Calculated.

[...]

His hand on the back of Spock’s head softened, petting down his neck before dragging a soothing line between his shoulders. It had been a long two weeks. There were clear signs that Spock had stayed here, in his own quarters rather than the Captain’s cabin they now shared. He could see it all around them. His dataPADD, his stylus resting beside it, the air vents pouring hot, thick air down onto them both. This is where he had been, waiting for him to return.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, hating the thought of it.

[...]

That short, agitated sound returned from deep within Spock’s chest as if it had sunk lower, nestled beneath layers that Jim would have to dig through to release.

He would. He’d do anything, anything at all to get inside this man, to live beside the unseen parts of him. He would stand guard so Spock didn't have to anymore. As long as it took, until a lifetime of coiled repression could finally be released, if only just with him. He’d be the one to finally let Spock rest.

[...]

Jim found his hand and touched their fingers together in a brief ozh'esta, sending a swell of empathy forward. He recalled the many times his mind had wandered, reaching for Spock while trying to keep a fire alive in that cave far below them.

Did we wait too long? Is that all the time we’ll ever get?

[...]

Spock began to pull his hand away but Jim summoned the energy to stop him, pushing his face back to his palm. Spock drew a sharp breath and Jim felt something grow dim and cold in his head. A flame flickering in the wind.

“Wh- What are you doing?”

There was no answer.

“Stop it.” He felt something close to alarm begin to flood his mind, filling the empty space Spock had left. “Spock, stop, whatever-”

“I cannot,” Spock finally ground out. “Not without running the risk-”

Jim feverishly placed his hand over the back of Spock’s, trying to position his fingers with his own swollen and clumsy ones.

“Ashay-"

“You want to meld, don't you?”

A pause, then, “Yes.” The single syllable seemed broken. Conflicted.

“You can. I want you to.”

To Jim’s surprise, he felt a tender brush of lips to the back of his neck.

“My control, ashayam, I… fear I will not be capable of maintaining it.”

He suddenly hated not being able to see Spock’s face. He closed his eyes and concentrated all his thoughts on it’s okay, you don’t have to anymore, turning to kiss the heel of his palm. He could feel fingers begin to crawl into that familiar position, that strange warmth bleeding into him.

“I’m yours,” he sighed. “My body, my mind, Spock, it’s always been yours, it’ll always be…”

He was falling. Something like wind whipped through each and every pore, every thought, every memory he’d ever had, but Spock held him tight and hard. His touch was hot even in their minds, reminding him who he was until the meld stabilized.

Yours.

Jim thought it, but he heard it too. Spock’s voice, somewhere far away and close at the same time.

[...]

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt Spock lie along his side, draping his limbs over Jim’s body and tucking himself into his shoulder blade. He smiled.

“No going back now, mister.”

“Back?”

He smiled even further, realizing he couldn’t imagine it, either. He’d already forgotten what he’d been before he’d been this. A shared soul. Without Spock it was like trying to imagine a stranger. Abstract. Impossible.

He joined their hands and brought Spock’s knuckles to his lips. The last thing he was aware of was the softness of love passing over their bond before dropping off into a heavy and sudden sleep, wrapped in Spock’s arms.

~*~*~*~

it's the end! please leave feedback (either here or on ao3) if you're so inclined. i'd really appreciate it!

#spirk #k/s #the premise #fanfiction #fanfic #spirk fanfiction #spirk fanfic #star trek tos #fic requests #anon

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smbiotics · 2 months ago

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[A little snippet of what I've been working on the past couple of days. This can totally be read as a pre-relationship oneshot all on its own honestly, but I've got it in my head recently that an ensign Jim Kirk accepting an assignment on an entirely Vulcan-manned science vessel with Spock as it's captain would be incredibly compelling. Enjoy!]

He comes to in a room shrouded in darkness, the only hints of illumination from moonlight slanting through lateral steel beams framing the exterior wall like a decorative trim. Aside from this detail, Jim can sparsely make out any other features of his prison, though he does assess that there is another organic lifeform within the confines of the space fairly quickly.

With an undignified yelp, Jim startles backward at the sound of the creature breathing scant inches from him. A confusing jumble of limbs and the ache of joint over-extension follows, further disorienting the near-blind officer, until—

And thank God, actually, because Jim would recognize that voice over his own.

“Ensign,” says the voice, not without its fair share of exasperation.

“Captain,” he breathes, so greatly relieved to find he isn’t about to be eaten by some foreign predator in an undisclosed location. “Oh, fuck. I thought I was a goner for sure. Where the hell are we?”

Spock clicks his tongue, clearly displeased by the vulgarity but also not so much to properly chastise him. “We appear to be prisoners.” He says this in the same way most humans would informally follow up with, duh. Though he isn’t sure there is enough lighting for anyone to witness it, Jim grins triumphantly nonetheless.

Experimentally, Jim tests the feeling in his hands by wiggling his fingers. Above him, Spock hisses out something in Vulcan and one of his legs kick down and jars Jim, yanking on the juncture where their arms are still very, very attached. It’s a wonder his elbows don’t pull right out of socket.

A twinge in his arm reminds him of his rather precarious position. Spock seems to have gotten the better end of the strapped-to-another-person deal, since he has the good fortune to be able to lean comfortably against the exterior wall, legs extended and bent at the knee. Between which, of course (just his luck), Jim lies sprawled on his belly, yellow shirt riding up and exposing a strip of said torso to the cool ground below him. He has never wished he followed regulation more stringently before in his life; at least if he had in this instance, his tucked black undershirt would have saved him a modicum of dignity. Hindsight, twenty-twenty, whatever. Then, his attention is drawn to his hands, which are attached to some terribly tingly arms.

The metal cuffs—if they can rightly be called such—cover his arms to the elbow and cross at his wrists, entirely encasing every inch of skin between. Spock’s cuffs mirror his. At the palms, the cuffs wrap around only the backs of their hands, pressing their palms pretty snuggly together, right to right and left to left. As if the discomfort couldn’t get any worse, the connection of their cuffs extends to the wrists, leaving very little room for finding any position even remotely comfortable.

“Son of bitch,” Jim curses into the cement flooring with a regulation boot digging insistently into his side. Spock seems to shake out whatever the hell had briefly possessed him, because the foot retreats quickly after that.

“So,” he asks after several long seconds of breathing unevenly into the ground. “Is this the new normal? Will we have to learn to cohabitate? I’m kind of a slob.”

“Your incessant witticisms are unwelcome,” Spock states emphatically.

“They’re welcome everywhere, Captain. It’s a universal fact.”

“I do not doubt that you believe that.”

“Aww, you know me so well,” Jim coos, though the faux flirting does fall a little flat when he can’t flash his big ol’ doe eyes at Spock. “Look at us! We’re practically married already. Fair warning: I’m a high-maintenance gal.”

Spock doesn’t respond for a moment, and for a second Jim wilts, assuming he won’t rise to the bait. Then, as if the Vulcan just can’t help himself, he says, “Strictly for clarification purposes, I am compelled to ask: does your self-identification as a ‘high-maintenance gal,’” (Jim can sense the air quotes. They aren’t physical ones—he would feel them against his own palms—but they’re there, all the same.) “extend past impromptu quips, or does it, like most of your other unsolicited narrations, serve only to disarm?”

“Oh, now we’re flirting? The Captain thinks I’m disarming,” Jim sing-songs, then wriggles around inelegantly on the ground in an effort to ease the ache in his joints, trying to ignore the fact that Spock’s crotch is about half a foot from his face. After much uninterrupted shuffling, he lets out a frustrated grunt. He may not be claustrophobic, but anyone would be greatly agitated by the sheer lack of mobility being chained up from elbow to wrist creates. “Listen, I hate to be the kind of guy to complain, but I gotta get out of these cuffs. And, barring that option, I at least have got to sit up or risk needing a double amputation of the arms. Or insanity. Whichever comes first.”

Spock stays quiet, but he does shuffle backwards a touch before carefully raising their joined arms. The leverage allows Jim to get his knees up under him, then from there he sort of–pauses.

He’s got options, for sure, but none are exactly inspiring.

Up on his knees like this, fingertips pressed to fingertips, Jim realizes just how close their bondage forces them, especially in the search for comfort. He could sidle his knees up to press flush against Spock’s thighs. Fuck.

“Ensign?” Spock addresses drily, perhaps curious as to why Jim has stopped both his incessant speech and his restless wriggling all at once. He still can’t see much, not with the hailing dark of the room, but his eyes have adjusted enough that he can pretty clearly make out the milk chocolate of Spock’s eyes, and for fuck’s sake, that is doing wayyy too much for him.

But he’s gotta talk, or risk being caught staring like a creep.

“Hnngh,” he manages, then wishes he could smack a hand to his face. “Sorry. Something stuck in my throat. Dry. Dry mouth, ‘cause I’m thirsty.”

“You have been unconscious throughout the duration of our stay.” Like it’s some sort of vacation. “In this time, I have calculated that we are monitored every two-point-two-three hours. As they have each time before, I am certain that, during their next patrol, our captors will provide necessary sustenance that will reduce your discomfort.”

Jesus, like wading through shallow water every time he opens his mouth. “Wonderful.” Then, before he can think better of it, he asks, “Permission to straddle your lap, Captain?”

Although his expression does not technically change, Jim imagines it might take on an even more bored look. “Permission denied.”

“But Captain. Caaaaptaaain. Please. My knees are falling asleep.”

“Permission considered. Permission pending.” Spock pauses as if actually thinking, but neither his expression changes nor do his eyes even waver from boring directly into Jim’s. “Permission denied.”

Spock’s eyes widen practically microscopically, but Jim catches it because he’s not just looking; oh, no, he’s fucking searching.

“Don’t make me wiggle my fingers again.” It’s a pretty hollow threat in the scheme of things, yet they still drag a greater reaction out of Spock than anything else he’s said yet as his eyes dart down at their joined hands and back up again. Those brown eyes assess his, as if trying to pin down just how serious he is, so Jim (curious; always too curious for his own good…) allows juuust his pinky to barely, barely shift to the left.

“Permission granted,” Spock finally allows, a strange but unidentifiable quality to his voice.

Gleefully, Jim pushes higher up onto his knees and sways his balance back and forth to individually swing both legs over Spock’s. After some minor adjusting, Jim finally settles back onto Spock’s strong thighs and thinks (because he can’t say it out loud without probably being murdered), damn. Probably the first motherfucker to sit here, huh?

Spock says nothing, but it is clear he could be more comfortable, for sure. Which is totally fair, because sitting in his ship captain’s lap isn’t Jim’s first choice for leisure. Sure, he’s thought about it in more recreational settings. This exact position, even, though maybe without the excessive bondage. It's suuuper taboo—but that just makes the idea of it that much hotter, ‘specially for Jim.

And, fuck, for the life of him he cannot get those eyes out of his head; the eye contact is so focused that it bleeds everything to the wayside… to be fucked with those eyes looking right into his soul—

“James,” Spock interrupts his rumination, sounding strangled. Jim’s instantly on high alert, certain there is an immediate threat that he hasn’t caught onto yet, so he leans this way and that to look around. He doesn’t sense anything—a pin drop would be deafening in the still quietness of their cell. With furrowed brows, he returns his gaze to his Captain’s, and kind of freezes in place.

Because Spock is—no. Surely it isn’t possibly, but newly gathered evidence would certainly argue with him. In the dimness of the room, Jim can just barely make out a tinge of green dusting Spock’s face. He’s blushing. No fucking way.

“No fucking way,” Jim repeats aloud. “Vulcans can blush?”

It doesn’t occur to him, in this exact moment, to really consider the why.

Spock averts his gaze. Well. His eyes shift from making direct eye contact to looking at the space marginally to the left of Jim’s eyes. “No,” he admits. Then, just as quickly as he had noticed the distinct coloration, it dissipates like it had never been there at all.

“You totally made that go away. How did you do that? Do you just—suck it back up into your body, or something? Like breathing through gills?”

“A wildly inaccurate comparison,” he says thinly. “And assumption, for that matter.”

What Jim wouldn’t give to jab him in the cheek right now, superior officer be damned. He’d risk it all right now just for some good ol’ fashioned slapstick. (It’s been far too long since he’s yucked it up with another human in person.)

“Ain’t you cute,” Jim adopts a seriously terribly southern drawl. “Blushing ‘cause you got a hot piece of ass in your lap.”

Oh, and thus appears the eyebrow of death: Spock’s always so good at looking greatly disappointed without a drop of emotion altering his expression.

“What, hit the nail on the head, did I?”

“As there are currently no implements within our reach to carry out such an activity, I should say not.”

Jim leans forward conspiratorially. “Was that a joke, Captain? A–what’d you call it? Incessant witticism? Careful, sir, I think your fondness is showing!” He can tell that Spock is physically preventing himself from reacting in any way that could be considered emotional, which is so thrilling. If just a little teasing can get him riled up like this, Jim wonders what Spock would do with a mouth wrapped around his—

“Jim.” Uh-oh. That’s a, you’ve been caught watching porn on the school desktop, ‘Jim.’ Like a deer-in-headlights, he blinks innocently down at Spock. “I can only assume that you did not attend a culture sensitivity seminar regarding Vulcans prior to your assignment to my ship.”

Oh. That’s not exactly what he was expecting. “Sure, I did. It was required. I mainly slept through it, though. Memorized enough to pass the exit exam.”

Clearly frustrated and mad about that, Spock shutters between furrowing his brows and smoothing them to their neutral position. Very carefully, very slowly, like Jim is a child: “Vulcan telepathy is limited to touch.”

Jim blinks. Then, blinks again. And once more as he glances down to where their hands rest splayed palm to palm.

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Abruptly, Jim’s face flames up, a perfect parallel to his Vulcan counterpart just minutes ago. “Oh, fuck,” he acknowledges blandly. “Captain, I’m so sorry. God. That’s… well. That’s unfortunate, is what it is, that I didn’t know that like ten minutes ago. I woulda kept my, erm, impulsive human thoughts under tighter lock and key.” He drops his head backwards, staring unseeingly at the pitch black ceiling. “I’ve violated like… fifteen sexual harassment regulations.”

“Surely only fourteen,” Spock states in his typical monotonous tenor, and Jim bursts out laughing, leaning a little more into the Captain’s space.

“God, I bet you’d get crucified telling a joke like that to another Vulcan,” Jim teases, and he doesn’t really notice but their foreheads nearly brush with their renewed proximity. Any closer and the strain on their arms would probably snap Jim back into awareness, into how wildly unprofessional and inappropriate he continues to be with his fucking captain, but Spock has been nothing if not receptive to the attention—the flirting—the touch…

Their noses brush. Jim can’t tell if he’s the only one leaning in, but he can tell that Spock’s eyes have sort of gone half-lidded, that they continue to dart between Jim’s eyes and his lips, and if that isn’t an invite in and of itself—

But of course, this is the precise moment when the door swings open, and two large lifeforms enter with an imposing Vulcan woman trailing behind them. First Officer T’mock salutes Spock, and the hiss-and-click between his and Jim’s body precedes the dull thud of their cuffs coming loose and releasing them.

After that, well. It’s a whirlwind of labyrinthine prison cells and heated negotiating with the locals, but then they’re being beamed aboard the Duhal’im once more where they belong, and Spock doesn’t even look his way once.

Despite everything else that happened in that room, it’s Jim’s fingertips that tingle for hours after their hands separate.

#smbioticswrites #star trek #spirk #au #fic idea #fic snippet #oneshot #pre relationship #ficlet #captain spock #ensign james t kirk #fic

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affixjoy · 9 months ago

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I’ve read a few fics lately with some great timey wimey premises so if that’s your jam you might also enjoy them!

If I missed your fav please share in the comments! I love this sort of thing and will always want to read more.

Some Version Of You by @ncc1701ohno

Summary: Bones is stuck in a time loop and stuck in his room. With Jim. He's forced to admit how intense this thing between them has gotten, how much he feels for Jim, even as he's been falling in love with Spock.

Does what happens in a time loop stay in a time loop?

Thoughts: I’m a sucker for time loops and this is just such a great short look at it with academy era McKirk.

Highlights: the angst! The longing! THE END!

It Ends Or It Doesn’t by @muirmarie

Summary: McCoy dies, and Kirk breaks his hand on a wall. Kirk dies to save McCoy, and McCoy breaks his hand on Spock's face for not stopping him. Spock dies, and he doesn't have to see what happens next, because the day resets. The day keeps resetting. McCoy keeps dying.

Thoughts: these self sacrificing idiots just love each other so much and I love THEM!

Highlights: there’s a loop towards the end where they accept what is happening and it’s probably my favorite part of this fic.

Grief As A Four Dimensional Figure by @jennelikejennay (moreta1848)

Summary: "One might arguably say it is not fully logical to care whether I cannot return to Vulcan because it no longer exists or because it is separated from me permanently in five-dimensional space.”

“No, I think I get it,” said Jim. “Like, I haven’t gone back to the old house in Iowa in years, but I do like knowing it’s there. If my mom sold it and it got knocked down, it would make a difference to me.”

The ambassador nodded. “Likewise, even in four-dimensional space, we are separated from the things we have lost only by distance—by the fact that we cannot easily travel along the timeline.” He marked out a section of his timeline, then a dot further back in the bottom timeline—Jim’s timeline. “My marriage is here. I am here, in a different timeline and at a different time. But my marriage exists. It is a figure in four-dimensional space which will continue to exist, in that sense, eternally. So long as the timeline does not collapse, it is a permanent part of history. So although I do not have my spouse with me, I know that he existed. That somewhere, in a time and a dimension I cannot go, we are meeting for the first time. That somewhere, I am asleep in his arms.”

Thoughts: I rarely like aos as much as tos fics, but this one worked so so well for me.

Highlights: every reference to the one with the whales, all the feelings about Amanda, all of Spirk’s big feelings about each other.

Way From Within by @gunstreet and @justveeing

Summary: Jim and Spock are assigned together for a rescue mission, and in the exhilarating aftermath, their attraction to each other comes bubbling to the surface. But the next day Spock is surprisingly distant, and the rest of the morning starts to seem eerily familiar to Jim...

Written by gunstreet and illustrated by lorvee, this is a K/S timeloop story in the vein of Palm Springs or Groundhog Day.

Thoughts: pretty sure we all collectively lost our minds about this one when it came out a few months ago, but if you haven’t read it yet it is GREAT. All the fun time loop tropes I love with Kirk and Spock at the center.

Highlights: the art is so good! I love seeing these scenes illustrated!

Happy reading everyone! 🖖

#star trek #fanfic #spirk #mcspirk #mckirk #spock #james t kirk #ao3fic #leonard mccoy #fic rec #what I’ve been reading

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darkness-and-books · 3 months ago

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A bit thorny

💙Leonard McCoy x gn!reader💙

⚠️: mentions of small injury

word count: 562

You had gone out on a simple exploratory mission, you know basic stuff: Can you breathe here, will the inhabitants kill you, are there even any inhabitants, can you eat the plants. So far it was pretty chill, no one had been eaten alive, you went out with three redshirts and still had three redshirts, which was impressive because they seemed to have a knack for being the first ones down.

Finding that there were no inhabitants, but that there were plenty of plants, everyone, botany department and otherwise, had been assigned to collecting plant samples. With no perceived danger, the landing party had been permitted to separate into smaller groups, so of course Y/N and Leonard had gone off together.

Kirk had made his jokes about the pairing, but quickly shut up when Bones shot back that, “We all already know you’re going off with Spock, and you aren’t gonna get any real work done!”. Certainly Jim had been a bit embarrassed, but everyone else had a good laugh at the captain’s expense.

Y/N knelt down by a vine of blue flowers, “This would be very pretty to keep in your quarters,” they softly commented, looking up at Leonard for his reaction. Leonard held his tricorder up to its leaves, “I don’t think so,” He said, focusing on the tricorder reading, “It reads as poisonous,” he informed.

“Oh!” Y/N exclaimed, hopping back from the plant and putting on gloves. “But,” Y/N started as they knelt back down to take a sample, “Your quarters could still do with a plant to liven the place up a bit,” Y/N remarked. “That’s what I have you for,” Leonard chuckled, Y/N looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well I can’t sit there and look pretty all the time you know,” Y/N said as they closed the petri dish around the sample. Moving over a few inches, Y/N went to inspect a different plant that didn’t have flowers at all, but rather thorns.

“What about this one for your quarters?” Y/N asked, briefly tugging at one of the branches to indicate which plant she was referring to. “It’s just like you, I’m sure you’d be great roommates,” Y/N remarked as they attempted to avoid being stuck with thorns.

“Ha, ha,” Leonard replied humourlessly, lightly kicking up dirt in Y/N’s direction. They coughed a bit as they inhaled some of the dust that was now floating around, reflexively squeezing their hand around the branch they had been holding in the process.

“Crap,” Y/N bit out in shock at the sensation of the thorns puncturing the palm of their hand. Leonard kneeled by their side to have a look at Y/N’s hand.

“You’re in the botany department, I would have thought you knew not to touch these things,” He lightly scolded as he began cleaning the small puncture wound.

“Maybe,” Leonard began as he wrapped up Y/N’s hand, “It’s time to go back before you hurt yourself too much more,”

“Mmmm,” Y/N considered the idea briefly, “Is there a nap and cuddles involved in this going back plan?” they asked, now holding their hand to their chest.

“Of course that’s involved,” Leonard promised. He pulled Y/N’s hand away from their chest and planted a delicate kiss firmly on their palm.

This sat in drafts sooo long and I finally gave it an ending 🥲

#star trek #star trek tos #bones #fluffy stuff #leonard mccoy x reader

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muirmarie · 10 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Ty for the tag @appleofmyonlyeye!

Unusually for me I'm actually working on a few at the same time? So:

the hayride one for the mcspirk bingo card:

“You want the hay fever hypo, you spill the beans, Jim.”

“The Federation doesn't give in to blackmail,” Kirk says, lifting his chin a little, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, you're too soft a touch to make that believable.”

“I'm not a soft touch,” McCoy snaps, sounding genuinely wounded. He swivels on his heel to face Spock, and flings out an arm to point at Kirk, his hand coming within inches of hitting Kirk in the face. “He wants to go on a hayride because he thinks it's romantic!”

“It is romantic,” Kirk says, his voice dropping into a hiss as he steps forward. “It's very romantic, and this is very new for us, and I am going to take the two of you on a romantic hayride if I have to knock you both out to do it!”

the mccoy makes breakfast one for the mcspirk bingo card

“What's it going to be, Bones?” Jim asks. He can see that Spock's hands are on Bones' waist, his fingertips sliding underneath Bones' top to touch bare skin. His own hands are still cupping Bones' face, holding him in place, holding him between them.

He wants, suddenly, desperately, to keep him just like this, forever. Keep him pinned between them. Keep him theirs and theirs alone.

There's a wild look in Bones' eyes, and Jim's torn between two conflicting desires: he wants to inflame it, he wants to soothe it. He wants to comfort him, and he wants to see just how out of control he can make him. He wants all of him, he wants both of them to have all of him. Wants Bones to have all of them, too, for as he long as he wants them. Forever, ideally. Ideally forever.

the plato's stepchildren au one (i'm so sorry) that i'm putting underneath a read more as it's a leetle messed up (also mcspirk)

(this may be used for some bingo card or other i'm really not sure, i really started this flying fully blind, tw: for mind control and discussion of non-consensual kissing)

“It is time, I think, for you to kiss your Vulcan friend,” Philana says. “If it is not convincing, we will have him walk over and give your captain twenty lashes. So here is the query for you, Leonard. Should I make him enjoy it, or would you prefer he makes himself act like he enjoys it?”

McCoy is trembling. Has, he thinks, been trembling all this while. There is nothing that could so terrify him as someone controlling his actions, and he is sure that Spock must feel very near the same. But to ask Spock, after all he's already gone through, to pretend to enjoy—

Twenty lashes, he thinks, thinking of the whip. Thinking of Spock's Vulcan strength. Thinking of Jim, who he and Spock both love so dearly.

His fingernails dig into his palm, and he wishes for a greater injury, wishes for a gaping wound on his side that he could focus on, wishes for a sharp, sharp pain that he could drown in.

“Make him,” he says. His voice doesn't sound like his own.

_____

I think most of the people I know who are working on fic have already been tagged by other people, but I'm not sure???

SO: if you're reading this, and you have a WIP - consider this me tagging you!

#fic #wip #wip wednesday

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offdensen · 3 months ago

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i mean obviously i'm going to ask about parted!!

TEEHEE

while reading ex machina a few weeks ago i like. fell so deeply in love with the idea of a second reunion between natira and bones twenty years later, where bones has recently married jim and spock while natira has become the federation ambassador for lorina. so inevitably i had to write it and make it an indirect sequel to warmth because i have no scruples

i'll spoil you and give you a different excerpt than i posted in the mcspirk server. this bit was the first thing i envisioned in my head when i got the idea

Then, at last, she lifts a hand to press it warmly against Leonard’s face. “You’ve aged,” Natira says, giving his cheek a gentle caress. “I have.” Leonard smiles, drinking in the laugh lines around her eyes. The sight fills him with pride, knowing she found some levity amidst all her responsibilities in the years since he saw her last. “Two decades have hardly touched you, however.” Her grin is congenial, though a glint in her eyes tells him he hasn’t lost his charming touch. Her hand shifts to rest upon his shoulder and he responds in kind by cradling her elbow in his palm. They still fit well together, even without the strong gravity of passion affixing them as it once did. “There is a radiance about you that I have never seen,” she says, gazing at him evenly. “You have found a rewarding happiness?” His throat tightens at that and he viciously blinks away at the emotion that swells behind his eyes. She is speaking straight to his heart. “Very rewarding.” Natira hums, the sound of it wise as she searches his eyes. “You are with Kirk and Spock?”

anyway i've always really liked natira, especially her grace and how quickly she adapts to change. i can't recommend ex machina enough for not just some great triumvirate moments, but also for expanding her character and the rest of the fabrini :')

#asks #muirmarie #offposting #mcspirk

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ao3feed-spirk · 1 year ago

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Explorations in Telepathy

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830954 by Kalifee Exploring how Kirk and Spock's relationship develops through season 1 with a focus on touch telepathy. Kirk disobeys Starfleet's advice about not touching Vulcans, but it actually improves and deepens their relationship. Later, after witnessing Spock meld with the Horta, his curiosity causes Kirk to request his own mind meld. This ultimately triggers unexpected pon farr related consequences, which Kirk then struggles to deal with. ----- Spock said "Give me your hand," and it was on the table palm up in front of him before Jim had even thought about it. Spock brushed two fingers against his, just for a second, and then leaned back and steepled his hands in front of him in a way Jim recognized as confronting a difficult problem. "Ah." Spock said, and nothing more. "Ah what?" Jim prompted impatiently, clenching his outstretched hand into a fist. "I wished to know whether this curiosity of yours was merely an idle wondering, or if it was something deeper." "And?" Jim challenged. "What did you feel from me?" Spock spoke very seriously. "It is *not* an idle wondering. You burn with a desperate hunger to know, and if I do not provide satisfaction, the curiosity will consume you." ----- Words: 3125, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English Fandoms: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek) Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Spock Additional Tags: Telepathy, Pon Farr (Star Trek), Vulcan Mind Melds (Star Trek), Vulcan Biology (Star Trek), Dom/sub, top!spock, Restraints, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Kinky Vulcan Mind Fuckery, Bonding, Consent is given but is not informed, (Jim doesn't know what he's in for), Canon Divergence late season 1, Or Amok time was just a cover up for this read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830954

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #spock/kirk #kirk/spock #spirk #spockxkirk #kirkxspock

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heckyeahponyscans · 1 year ago

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In my search for info about the Oldsmobile ad campaign, I came across this blog post:

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The story of “not your father’s Oldsmobile.” Or how some really bad advertising changed the culture forever!

October 14, 2008

Time for a story boys and girls. It’s a tale that requires we go back 20 years, before copywriters had Macs, before email, before I lost my hair. This story harkens back to a day when Oldsmobiles roamed the earth. And their commercials filled the airwaves. I should know; I made some of them. Including the campaign that served as Olds’ final and famous (infamous?) death gasp: “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile.”

Dad’s was better.

The line has become a pop culture catch phrase, in the same ilk –albeit attached to worse advertising-as “Got Milk?” Both slogans have been co-opted literally hundreds of times, far outlasting their original intent. Try reading your morning paper and not finding a variation on either line. For example, about a candidate: “This is not your father’s Democrat.” About a technological innovation: “This is not your mother’s sewing machine.” And so on. Sadly enough, more Americans are familiar with the Olds’ slogan than of Shakespeare’s finest sonnets. Way more.

A soft-spoken creative director by the name of Joel Machak wrote that famous line. I actually came up with the campaign’s tag: “The New Generation of Olds.” Both pieces were intended as lyrics. That’s right, a jingle! As a matter of fact, I was brought in to help Joel come up with the refrain. The piece went together as follows (sing along):

This is not your father’s Oldsmobile…This is the new generation of Olds.

Pretty spiffy, eh? The word “generation” was key. If you recall, each commercial featured a celebrity and one of his or her offspring. This is why the campaign is so damn silly. Outside of a morbid fascination with ogling Ringo Starr’s purple-haired daughter or Dave Brubeck’s motley looking brothers, placing the kin of “B” and “C” celebrities on camera was pure folly. Though I will concede we anticipated Reality TV by 10 years! If you do nothing else today, go to the above link. Trust me.

Where’s my Cutlass Supreme?

The very first spot was for the “totally redesigned Cutlass Supreme.” The protagonist for this commercial was none other than William Shatner, appearing as; you guessed it, Captain Kirk! Riding shotgun was his lovely college-aged daughter, Melanie Shatner. A middling actress, she was pretty darn cute. She also was well endowed. And this became problematic given her wardrobe and where we were shooting. It gets damn cold in the Palm Desert at night. The diaphanous gown provided Melanie was meant to be futuristic a la Star Trek, but it did nothing to warm her up. Subsequently, her nipples went completely rigid, sticking up like Spock’s ears.

beam me up, Scotty!

While this may sound lurid and comical now, at the time (3 AM) it was a “situation.” Imagine the middle-aged suit from GM, replete in a satin Oldsmobile Racing Team jacket, making his way over to the director. “Excuse me, but we can see her nipples!” Given we’d already shot scenes of Melanie in the gown, a wardrobe change was not possible. The solution? Duct tape. And thus her cleavage had a silver lining.

The other moment I’ll never forget was a captured piece of dialogue (unscripted) between William and his daughter. Between takes, they were side by side in the white Cutlass. Unbeknown to either, the mic was still on. Listening to Captain Kirk school his daughter about the virtues of pep and sleeping pills as a key to nighttime shooting was priceless. What a Dad. What a cad. In a way, it preceded his Emmy-winning turn as Danny Crane by some 20 years.

I know this is trifling gossip, and long past its vintage. But like everyone else, I’m beaten down from our grim economy and an evermore-depressing election. Not to mention the woes of Chicago’s sports franchises… When I was new I used to love listening to the old-timers tell bawdy stories from their shoots. Now that I have a few under my belt, I figured we could all use a respite.

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As a post-script: in 2021 the writer returned to his blog after fifteen years away. He explained that he had dropped out of the advertising biz and become a substance abuse counselor. He began work just as Covid broke out. Wow! I find that inspiring! He also has a Youtube channel devoted to his aquarium hobby, check it out here!

#Oldsmobile #advertising #William Shatner #I love little stories like this

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simmeons · 5 months ago

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seventh story for @badthingshappenbingo bingo :)

words; 3,448 (CRAZYYY)

characters; Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T Kirk and Spock (some dai characters mentioned- not entirely important)

warnings; death/murder, near death experience, swearing, mentions of possession (?), somewhat graphic written fighting, decapitation (only talked about once)

prompt; near death experience

FYI; this is for the DAI!AOS au (dragon age inquisition)

The Griffon Wing Keep had been an absolute pain to take over. The amount of Venatori tossing themselves at the party was almost absurd. But thankfully, the small group of four were able to hang the Inquisition flag and claim the keep as their own. It was a great pitstop, and it gave the Inquisition a leg up in the Western Approach. Scotty was busy tying up the flag on the pole while the rest of his friends took the time to get a look at what their enemies had on them.

“Lots of gold.” Leonard spoke up as he pickpocketed one of the Venatori who had attacked them. Spock gave a hum in agreement from where he was seeing what the Venatori’s leader- Macrinus- had.

When inspecting the dead body of the hooded figure, the elven mage’s brows quirked up in confusion as he pulled a collar out of the leather bag the man had strapped to his belt underneath the heavy black robes. It was quite literally a collar. Something you'd put on a pet.

“It seems Macrinus had a pet.” Spock stated aloud as he stood up, showing the rest of the party his find. Jim snickered a bit as Scotty made his way over to Spock, taking the worn leather collar from him.

The rogue human held the collar in his right hand, the Anchor simmering a bit with a green hue as Scotty got an understanding on it. Clearly, it had some magical ability if the mark was responding. Without much trouble, Scotty willingly made the Anchor flair up a bit more- faint green text floating up from the collar for him to read aloud.

“Kitty’s Collar,” Scotty stated the name of the item before he turned it in his hand. “A narrow leather band embossed with a design popular in Honnleath some years ago. A tuft of orange fur is caught in the buckle. Spirits whisper across the Veil, but their voices are unclear. Briefly, they conjure the memory of a little girl.” He finished, reading to the party what the Anchor was informing.

Jim crossed his arms from where he stood, now besides Scotty. “Sooo… It's a possessed collar. By a little girl.”

The Scotsman shrugged. “It would appear so.”

“Honnleath?” McCoy repeated, dusting off the sand that had accumulated on his armor. “Wasn't that the place that was run by darkspawn during the Fifth Blight?”

“Before the Warden’s saved them, yes.” Spock answered before Scotty could even formulate a response.

The party stood around for a moment- unsure what to do about the collar. They could simply just leave it, but they all knew that since it had some sort of magical aspect, something should be done with it. They all took a moment to look amongst themselves, silently asking; “Do you want this?”

Jim was the one who eventually took it from Scotty’s hand, huffing a bit. “Alright, I'll take the thing. I'll hang out with the little girl.” Before anyone else could object, the warrior already had the collar around his neck and fastened on. “See? I'm fine. We'll become best friends. Maybe she'll whisper to me while I sleep.”

“Great, now Jim is going to have a little girl possessing him next. Just what we need!” McCoy complained.

Jim, however, wasn't too worried. “Don't worry, Bones! I can always just take it off.”

That carefree attitude almost dissolved immediately when Jim quickly found out the collar in fact didn't come off. He tugged at the buckle, but it didn't budge. Spock was quick to reach out and try to help, but the result stayed the same. McCoy simply face palmed as Scotty just tried to accept the fact that their friend had just attached some magical collar around his neck.

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“Those White Claw idiots have no idea how to lure a dragon!” Frederic of Serault, a dragon enthusiast, groaned. “Will you please go and fix their mess?”

The party has been helping this Frederic man with his fascination with draconology, which had soon led them on some wild goose chase to do several tasks to help the man. Find hints of a hunting ground, get back his research he had lost, get phoenix tail feathers and quillback intestines- it was a whole mess. But, Scotty couldn't just not help the man.

“Of course, we'll see what we can do.” Scotty promised, giving Fredric a polite nod before turning on his heel and leading the party away from the man’s small camp.

The group dragged their feet through the sand, their bodies sore and tired from an entire week of running around. Despite that, there was a task at hand that needed to be taken care of. So, with their enthusiasm a bit watered down, they all walked their way to the small ruined monument where the White Claw had previously been trying- and failing- to lure a dragon.

With combined effort, the party got rid of the faulty bait in the bear traps and instead replaced it with the bait Fredric had given them.

“Who thinks a bear trap is going to stop a dragon?” McCoy grumbled, hating the feeling of the sticky and mushy bait against his hands. Scotty- who was near his side, simply chuckled a bit.

“I'm sure Fredric knows what he's doing.”

McCoy wasn't convinced. “Sure, sure. We'll see about that.”

The sound of shouting grabbed the party’s attention, making the four of them look to see a small group of White Claw people swearing at them. Like second nature, each wielded their weapons and braced for a fight that Scotty hoped he could maybe avoid.

"Who do you think you are, messing with our traps?" one of the White Claw men snarled, brandishing a crude spear.

Scotty stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "We're here on behalf of Frederic of Serault. Yer methods weren't working, so we had to make some adjustments."

The leader of the White Claw group, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, spat on the ground. "Frederic? That pompous fool knows nothing about hunting dragons. We'll show you real dragon hunters!”

The man held up both his arms, wielding a huge ax that he brought down with intense force. Jim easily slid himself between Scotty and the White Claw, bearing his shield without wavering.

The ax cried against the shield- metal colliding into metal with a harsh noise. Jim groaned as he held his place, using his weight to push back against the leader- shoving the man back. As the leader stumbled, the rest of the party scattered- Spock and McCoy in the rear as Scotty held middle, and Jim raged in the front lines.

Spock chanted an incantation- a shard of straight ice erupted from the sand, clinging to another assailant, rendering him completely frozen. Easy pickings for Jim, who made quick work of the frozen man with ease. McCoy followed suit, casting a barrier spell around Jim, fortifying his defenses.

"Keep them at bay!" Scotty called out, knocking another arrow. He aimed for another henchman, his arrows striking with precision and taking down opponents one by one. Despite their exhaustion, the party moved with practiced coordination, each member playing their role seamlessly.

Jim swung his sword with controlled fury, every strike powerful and precise. He moved from foe to foe, his shield deflecting blows that came his way. The White Claw leader, recovering from his earlier stumble, roared and charged at Jim again, but this time Jim was ready. With a deft sidestep and a powerful upward slash, Jim’s sword sliced right through one of the man’s hands.

With the leader crumbling to his knees from such a devastating blow, Jim spared him anymore suffering with a quick slice to the neck. The rest of the White Claw who were still alive quickly turned a heel and fled when they saw their leader being killed in front of them.

“Good job, Jim!” McCoy shouted from the back lines, giving the blonde a thumbs up that was met with a big smile. Their celebration was cut short however when a gigantic shadow swept over them overhead.

Eyes immediately darted to look up in the sky- seeing exactly what the shadow came from.

A high dragon.

The roar it bellowed out quickly made the party realize the White Claw probably weren't running from them, but the dragon. Which was completely understandable.

“Go! Get inside the monument!” Scotty cried out to his party. They all quickly scrambled to run through the sand, their boots kicking up dust as they ran like hell.

The ground trembled as the dragon descended, landing with a thunderous crash that sent a wave of sand billowing outward. Its scales shimmered in the harsh sunlight, a mosaic of deep red and fiery orange. The beast's eyes, burning like molten gold, locked onto the fleeing party. It let out a high screech just in time for the party to duck into the small sandstorm crumbling structure to get away.

They all huddled into a corner that seemed the most secured as the large beast outside continued to roar with anger.

“Well… That answers your question, Leonard.” Spock mumbled, getting Leonard's attention.

“What do you mean?” The human mage frowned.

“You wanted to know if the traps would lure a dragon.” The Dalish elf responded. “It did.”

McCoy let out a loud and frustrated groan as he felt the irritation rise in him. Before the two mages could start bickering, Scotty spoke up.

“Alright, calm down ye two. We can't start fighting when there's a dragon with its snout up our arses.”

Jim nodded in agreement. "What's the plan, Scotty? We can't stay here forever."

Scotty’s hands fidgeted with his bow, his mind racing. "We need a way to either drive the dragon off or make a run for it without getting roasted. Spock, McCoy, any spells that could help?"

Spock considered for a moment. "I have a few spells that might distract it, maybe even wound it.”

Scotty nodded before turning to look at McCoy, awaiting his response.

McCoy shook his head, frustrated. "Most of my spells are for healing or defense. I could maybe slow it down or fortify our position, but that’s about it. Either way, there's no way we can outrun a dragon of all things.”

They all simultaneously nodded in agreement. That was a fact.

Spock's eyes narrowed as he considered their options. "Dragons are vulnerable in the joints of their wings and around the eyes. If we can distract it, we might be able to get a few good shots in. But we need to be strategic about this.”

Jim hefted his sword and shield, glancing at his companions. "I'll be the bait. I'll draw its attention while you three get into position.”

“Are you sure?” Scotty asked, wanting to make sure Jim was really ready to be face to face with a dragon. The blonde smiled.

“I'm positive. Kitty will protect me.” He joked, tugging the collar that still remained around his neck even after an entire week.

“Don't joke like that!” McCoy barked back.

“Enough!” The Scottish Inquisitor shouted, getting the other 3 to go silent and just listen. The silence after Scotty's command was filled with the heavy breathing of the party, the tension hanging thick in the air. Scotty took a deep breath, formulating the plan.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do," He began, his voice steady. "Jim, you go out first and draw the dragon's attention. Use your shield to deflect its attacks as much as you can. Spock, I need you to hit its wings and joints with everything you've got. Leonard, keep a barrier up around Jim and be ready to heal him if needed. I'll find some high ground.”

The group nodded in agreement, determination replacing the fear in their eyes. Jim gave Scotty a firm pat on the shoulder before stepping out of their hiding spot, his shield raised high.

As soon as Jim stepped into the open, the dragon's head snapped toward him. It let out another ear-splitting roar, its golden eyes narrowing on its new target. Jim took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Come on, you oversized lizard!" He shouted, banging his sword against his shield to create as much noise as possible.

The dragon's nostrils flared, and it lunged forward, massive jaws snapping. Jim darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp teeth. He kept moving, staying just out of reach while trying to keep the dragon's focus on him.

Jim made the massive creature do a circle, effectively making it look away from the sandstone structure so the other 3 could dart out and really get to working. With Jim keeping the dragon somewhat stationary- McCoy, Spock, and Scotty all moved to form a triangular formation around the beast.

Scotty climbed up on a higher rock, McCoy kept himself close to some of the sandstone pillars in case he needed protection, and Spock did the same.

The dragon seemed overwhelmed with 3 people attacking from afar, and one pesky human whacking its arms and legs. It roared out, its right front arm stomping down on the ground next to Jim, making the warrior stumble a bit. Before the dragon could attack again, an arrow to the cheek made it cry out- shaking its head, trying to get the arrow free from its scales.

The dragon, enraged and annoyed, reared up on its hind legs, preparing to unleash a torrent of fire. "Get ready!" Scotty shouted, drawing another arrow and aiming for the dragon's throat.

Jim braced himself behind his shield as the dragon's chest heaved, flames building up in its throat. At the last second, Spock launched a powerful blast of wind, aimed directly at the dragon's head. The blast hit just as the dragon exhaled, causing the fire to scatter and dissipate harmlessly.

McCoy kept protecting Jim as much as he could as the other two kept firing from a distance, but after so many close calls and several minutes, it didn't seem like the dragon was being affected much besides the harsh damage it had taken on its wings, rendering the beast flightless for the fight.

Exhaustion was setting in fast- they were already tired, but now fighting a dragon was a nail in their coffin. Not to mention the dragon took to stomping around, making giant leaps as it tried to put distance between itself and the party.

After a particularly hard slash to one of the dragon's rear legs, it cried out in an ear splitting noise. Everyone in the party couldn't help but reach up and cover their ears as the sound felt like their skulls were being crushed from inside out.

With the opening, the dragon didn't hesitate to lash out, its claws ripping through Jim's armor and into his flesh. The blonde let out a painful cry that anyone could recognize.

McCoy's heart clenched in his chest as he watched his friend go down, especially since he was supposed to be protecting him. He readied his staff to help Jim back up, but the dragon leapt again and slammed itself into the ground right next to McCoy. The human mage was forced to the ground.

When McCoy opened his eyes he could see as the dragon lunged down, mouth open and teeth ready to eat him alive. He closed his eyes and put his arms over his head- but the bite didn't come. He hears the familiar sound of the sky crackling- almost like the sound of a whip. He peaked open his eyes to see the dragon almost frozen in time, but it was moving backwards like it was being dragged.

He scrambled to sit up, seeing as Scotty and Spock were both by Jim's injured body. The Scotsmans right hand was ablaze with the Anchor, its powerful green venom crawling up the man’s arm, all up to his shoulder. He had willingly opened his own Rift. The dragon was being dragged towards the Rift! It was completely vulnerable!

As the Rift grew in size, it let out its own shrill noise as if the demons on the other side of the Rift let out a greeting. McCoy couldn't believe it- there was absolutely no way a whole dragon could be dragged into the Fade!

Spock was busy looking over Jim’s wounds behind Scotty, the roaring green light of the Anchor making the deep gashes stand out more on the warrior’s body. Being a Dalish elf, Spock always tried to seem under control- but now he was panicking. Sincerely panicking.

“Jim!” He shouted, shaking the limp man in his arms. The elf tried his best healing spells, but they weren't working. It was like there was nothing to work on- the wounded was far too gone to be helped. “Jim!”

Scotty could hear Spock’s cries of fear and it only made his jaw clench more. His entire arm was burning with a pain he's never felt before” but he needed to get the dragon taken care of or they'd all die. Tears of pain prickled in his eyes as his body tensed up, another surge of blinding white pain flowing through his arm as the Rift cackled- ripping and tearing more into the air. As the Rift got larger, the sand around them swirled like a hurricane- all centered around the Rift.

As Spock continued to hold Jim’s lifeless body, he heard the sound of a little girl giggling in his ears. He couldn't tell where it was coming from- it was like it was from inside his own head. He was only pulled away from the giggling when there was a soft yellow glow near Jim, making the elf look at the warrior.

Beneath the glow and the giggling, the collar around Jim’s neck suddenly snapped- falling off the man's neck, completely dissolving before it even touched the sand. Spock watched with wide eyes as Jim suddenly gasped, air filling his lungs like magic.

“Wh-” Spock started, but he was cut off when Jim miraculously got up without trouble, even with his wounds still being open. It was like the man was possessed, or some undead warrior fighting even after death.

Jim grabbed his sword with both his hands before charging to the dragon and the Rift- no amount of whipping sand stopped him. Scotty was stunned as he saw Jim somehow alive again, but he didn't have the time to ask when he watched as the blonde man placed himself underneath the dragon without hesitation.

McCoy watched from afar- still frozen in place as he witnessed Jim lodge his sword directly into the dragon’s chest. Pressing, shoving- Jim screamed out in effort as he kept digging his sword into the dragon- presumably where it's heart was located. At the same time, Scotty couldn't hold up the Rift anymore, and the Rift dispersed. The wind calmed down as the green lighting vanished, letting the dragon free from its grasp.

Thankfully, the large beast couldn't go anywhere anymore. With its newfound freedom, all it could do was let out one last roar of pain as it fell to the ground- slain.

Spock aided Scotty as McCoy ran to Jim, almost tripping over the sand a few times. “Jim! Jim, damn it! You're alive!”

Jim left his sword in the dragon, instead turning around in time to get tackled by McCoy with a hug. “Jesus, Bones! I just died!”

That point was correct, so the mage pulled away from Jim. “You idiot! How are you still alive?!” McCoy barked.

“It would seem that the collar saved him.” Spock answered, helping Scotty walk over to the dragon and his friends.

Jim let out a huff, his chest puffing out with pride. “I told you! Kitty and I are best friends.”

McCoy was still recovering from the scare of Jim almost dying, so he didn't laugh. Scotty did let out a little chuckle however. “I'm glad yer okay, Jim.”

The party all agreed on that. McCoy made quick work of Jim’s wounds before helping Scotty, leaving Spock and Jim to loot what they could from the dragon.

“I hope Fredric isn't too mad at us for killing his prized pupil.” Scotty mumbled as McCoy looked at his arm.

“I could give less about what he thinks. All I care about is that you and Jim are alive.” The mage replied.

Scotty smiled at that. “Well? Do I look good, doc?”

McCoy frowned a bit, but inside he was blushing at the little nickname. “Yes. You're fine. Just… Don't do that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

#fandom: star trek #prompt: near death experience

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tprings-hair · 8 months ago

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I'm in the middle of writing a few star trek tos fanfics! please press the option you want to see an excerpt from. (or send me an ask about it so I have an excuse to get words down somewhere!) I will probably have some time tomorrow so let me know what you're interested in reading!

#please feel free to dump any ideas you have #if you vibe with any of these and want a writing buddy to talk fic ideas with i would be delighted!!

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ahria-lethe · 1 year ago

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First Sentence Game

I was tagged by @museaway

How it works: Post the first sentence from your ten latest fics. If you haven't published ten fics, share as many first lines as you do have! Then tag some friends. 1. Clow knows the way she’ll taste before he even walks into the room. 2. At first, Twilight isn’t aware of anything but the pain in his head.

3. It has been a long day.

4. Kirk hovers on the other side of the room, waiting for Spock with some trepidation.

5. Kaoru checks the locks on the door, lets his hand linger over the metal bolt before turning back towards the small living room.

6. “Where’d you learn all that palm reading stuff, anyway?” Sulu asks, holding his hand up to his face.

7. Shawn is unnaturally quiet in the car as they leave the station.

8. The sun is warm on his face.

9. Jim looks up from his PADD at the chime of his doorbell and yells for whoever it is to enter.

10. Kojiro tries not to look over at the table again.

Ahhh, I didn’t realize how short my first sentences tended to be. I think half of these are PWP.

#ahria writes

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endeavvor · 5 months ago

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Kirk remains oblivious to the storm raging inside his companion, because of him. The situation may have drastically changed were he to stop and look - but as is, his wonder has taken over giving Spock a semblance of privacy to recollect.

The ground around the edge of the pool is soft beneath his palms, and he can feel it denting beneath his weight, but it is not the normal sand of a beach. Collecting a small handful, he sifts through it using the light available to them. Can see the way it catches and sparkles in the light, and holds it out to Spock when he's settled beside him. "I think it's broken down in the soil too."

The captain bites his lip for a moment before continuing. "My running theory is the plant and animal life we've seen so far thrive off the crystals themselves. They are the ones absorbing and breaking it down. If that's the case, they could be causing the reading by simply existing, but it still also means there has to be a source somewhere."

His gaze falls back on the pool itself, to where Spock has dipped his hand into it, causing small ripples. The fish he'd been watching earlier darting around the disturbance, shyly ducking into weeds and craigs, but keep popping back out of their hidey holes out of a shared curiosity. It suggests a surprising level of intelligence. Kirk squints around them, beyond them, down into the depths of the pool - there really is no telling how far it goes down, and even if he's confident in his ability to hold his breath to explore it, it's still a risk.

Following suit, tests the temperature with his own fingers - cool, but not unbearable. That could change significantly a few feet down. It just circles back to being unprepared for this discovery.

Looking around the rest of the antechamber, there is still the exit the creature escaped through that also provided a viable avenue to explore that wouldn't leave them drenched and frozen. Mark this to come back to with equipment, or on the way out.

For the first time, as he watches Spock, he notices larger movement in the pool. There, but gone in the time it takes for him to settle on it fully. He almost convinced himself that it had been a trick of the shadow caused by their looming over it. Until he sees it again, the slow blink of a large eye against the rock face. Not quite right, it is the rock face. A second eye opens, and a gaping maw of a mouth filled with rows of razor sharp teeth. Kirk has no time to shout a warning, just latches on to the Vulcan and kicks and drags them both back and away from the pool for the beast to emerge.

He's reminded vaguely of a crocodile - with its long snout and textured skin. Though instead of legs, it has fins that are struggling to support its weight out of the water. Along the side of its neck are the deep slashes of gills, already opening and closing rapidly as it struggles to breathe. It gets half way, close enough that the captain delivers a solid kick to its nose, and thinks better of it. For the moment, they seem to be at a stand still.

"I'm now wholly opposed to going into the pool."

@fasciinating

THE DIRT AND DARKNESS ARE NOTHING of an unfathomable depth. Blinking slowly, the glow is eclipsed, covered by Kirk’s shadow and Spock’s vision is filled with a picturesque image that stutters his cognitive thinking—

Because there is only the Captain, blinded, and unexpectedly distracted, by the sheer aberration of the color of Kirk’s eyes. It is difficult to avoid, not to follow when they flutter and zigzag across Spock’s own face, and yet he does so anyway, stock still and forcefully devoid of anything that might betray him.

“ There was no offense. ” It was only for a moment, he could say, a second so fleeting and suddenly so absent, inexplicably empty inside when Kirk leaves. Rightening his position on the ground, the downward sleet of Spock’s gaze is immediate, recalculating, reconfiguring — rearranging himself — into a neat line that cannot be bent or broken or twisted.

Control is his to contain. Spock’s years of training within the compendium of Surak could not be upended by the human triviality of contact, touch; Kirk has no idea of its significance to Vulcans.

He could not possibly—

Barreling forward, he discerns these abrupt and frequent lapses in control are mostly alien to him, stalled or delayed unevenly again and again and again. He ruminates on them as he follows after Captain Kirk, only partially aware of their surroundings when the sight in front of him — Jim with his eyes to the pool, wide with wonder — is unexpectedly intoxicating.

That expression reads like an adrenaline surge of curiosity on Kirk’s face, a sharp rush of surprise and a quicksilver flash of elation, bright as sudden sunlight. Running through these currents of feeling — what it does to him — is something Spock cannot identify, weighed down by a depth and strength and weight that are like nothing he has ever known.

Kirk mutters about its beauty, taken away by the scattering of an animal, by the glittering teal of the underground pool, and Spock can only mutter with him, unwilling to elaborate on which of these things he means, “ Indeed. ”

The departure of the creature allows him to escape, if only briefly, watching it leave before he nods, joining Kirk at the shallow pool. Looking down, Spock can see his reflection, allowing it to draw him closer until he can reach out and tentatively rake his fingertips across its still-like surface. The water ripples quietly, pillowing outward in minuscule waves.

“ No subterranean system was ever declared in the reports. ” An obvious fact. And yet Spock wonders if the XurXur were even aware of it; possibly concealing it on purpose, “ There remains trace residue of dilithium as well. Perhaps, under the water? ”

@endeavvor

#fasciinating #v. who caught and sang the sun in flight | main #q. you have the conn

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