#Star Trek drabble

[teacup-gathering-itself]

First human thing to make Vulcans, as a collective, act positively pre-surakian (read: uninhibitedly emotive) is playing a game of UNO.

Cultural exchange events that didn’t make it into the first contact curriculum on Earth simply due to the level of mischief it would inspire.

[subcutaneous-transponder]

Here’s a little angsty Spirk dialogue I’ve been working on.

“Do you remember anything, Spock?”

“Not a lot… Captain.”

“‘Captain’, so you remember who I am.”

“Not exactly; I know that you are my captain. It is as simple as the words I know to speak or the breath I know to breathe.”

“Spock— you are my number one aboard the starship—“

“Enterprise. Yes, I remember our ship.”

“Do you remember our quarters?”

“I remember my quarters.”

“Your quarters… Perhaps I’ll take you there.”

“That would be great. Take him somewhere familiar to him. It would be wise for Spock to take time away from commission. If he is not recovered within the week, I want him sent to Vulcan.”

“Alright, Bones.” “Come, Spock, let me help you to your quarters.”

-

“Is it comforting?”

“Comforting, Captain?”

“Yes, Spock, do you feel at home?”

“I’m not sure I understand. I do not ‘feel’.”

“Oh, right…”

“Is there more you wish to say, sir?”

“Jim, you can call me Jim.”

“… Jim.”

“You know Spock, you once told me that you loved me.”

“Love…”

“Yes, Spock. Do you not have even a residual sense of love for me left?”

“I do not understand. You are my captain. I have respect for you. I do not—“

“Love me.”

“No, Jim. I do not love you.”

“Good night, Spock… Rest well.”

[marlinspirkhall]

Sometimes, Kirk wakes up in the middle of the night with the words in his head, heart pounding, but never too fast.

The same words:

“Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony.”

Spock lies mere meters away, on the other side of the wall, but his appearance would require an explanation.

How can you talk about it, when your own survival relies on not being a burden?

“Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society.”

He closes his eyes, breathes, and waits for the palpations to stop.

Survival depends on drastic measures.

[strangenewheadcanons]

“Hey, Jim?” Sam asks. Jim can feel his apprehension and raises his brow.

“Yeah?” He responds.

Sam swallows with a minuscule nod of his head. “I love you.”

A public display of affection is rare for Sam and it genuinely touches Jim. He offers him a little smile.

But he’s still Sam’s little brother after all. “Engage.”

Jim disappears in a flash of light, leaving a steaming Sam in his wake. “That little shit didn’t even say it back!”

[the-cosmic-creature]

i think star trek will stay with me forever.

it has injected me with a permanent joy and whimsy and helped me unlearn shame/cringe culture. most importantly, it makes me see the good in humanity.

star trek has affected me in ways i never knew media could affect me. it keeps me optimistic about humanity’s future, and inspires me to do what is right no matter what. star trek makes me unashamed to be myself, however nerdy or silly I may be.

star trek is so important to me and i have a feeling it always will be.

[lady-lazarus-13]

Does Julian Bashir Have An Ass?

We polled the residents of Deep Space Nine to get the scoop on Starfleet's most eligible bachelor. We're asking the big questions we know you've all been wondering.

Here's what they had to say:

"Why are you asking me about Julian's....Julian's ...?" The Chief went bright red.

"No," Worf answered.

"Yes," Jadzia said. "It was one of the first things I noticed. I was a little jealous, but Curzon said something about how he'd love to bounce a nickel off it."

Sisko rolled his baseball between his hands in thought and then threw back his head with a hearty laugh.

Keiko glanced away in deep thought. "You know, I rarely see him out of his uniform so I'm not sure and Miles refuses to tell me."

"I would go out of business if I shared my customer's measurements," said Garak with a small, mischievous smile. "But let's just say a tighter fit would accentuate his particular...assets quite nicely."

"You humanoids are so obsessed with your looks and body parts," said Odo in his gruff voice. "But yes, Doctor Bashir has a 'booty' as you put it. Just like the rest of you homo sapiens."

Leeta giggled. "What a funny question! He does. Not as grabbable as Rom's though...."

Quark waggled his eyeridges. "Oh, definitely. Look, consider me an expert."

Major Kira snapped the microphone in half before walking away as if nothing had happened. We did attempt to fix it, but unfortunately our recording from Morn was too garbled to accurately quote.

((Fanfic crack drabble for @tinyfaust))

[fetch-those-damned-bolt-cutters]

You think you can hurt me? I write star trek fanfiction knowing absolutely nothing about the medical and scientific fields

[v-thinks-on]

“What’s a logical gentleman like you doing in a place like this?”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at Jim, who merely smiled and slid into the empty seat beside him.

“Your best Vulcan tea for my charming companion,” Jim said to the woman behind the bar of the little deep space outpost where their ships had briefly docked.

“Admiral, there is no need for you to order tea on my behalf,” Spock protested, bemused by the illogical human gesture.

“I wouldn’t invite you back to my quarters without at least buying you a drink first.”

“Very well, Admiral, then I accept.”

[ifdragonscouldtalk]

"Commander Spock!"

"Cadet Kirk," Spock acknowledged as he turned, watching him drag his friend closer by force, grinning and waving with his free hand. Spock wasn't sure whether he liked Kirk or not yet, but Kirk had certainly decided that he liked Spock, and given they were both proteges of Captain Pike, they saw each other fairly often.

"Hey, it's great I ran into you! Chris wanted me to-"

When Spock turned to look at the friend Kirk had dragged with him, likely the infamous 'Bones', all other sensory input stopped. It was like electroshock to the brain, lighting up his bonding center and making his skin tingle, and the longer the man met his eyes the more breathless he felt. This was his intended, his one true love as his Mother had always described. He could taste it in the air. He was so absorbed in the beauty of the man's eyes that he hardly noticed the deepening scowl on his lips.

"Jim," he interrupted breathlessly, both the tone and the first use of his casual name stopping the exuberant cadet in his tracks, "who is your friend?"

He could barely see Kirk's smirk out of the corner of his eye. "This? This is my boyfriend, Bones."

The man broke eye contact with Spock to glare at Jim, and Spock had to blink several times to catch his bearings. "I told you to stop telling everyone I'm your boyfriend. We ain't dating! And my name ain't Bones."

"Is your boyfriend single?" Spock asked, glancing at Jim and feeling somewhat like a slavering dog, begging for a meal.

"Uhm," Jim responded, and then burst out laughing, while Bones caught his eye again with a bewildered look, exclaiming "What?"

How did Humans do this again?

Spock dropped down to his knees, then frowned at himself. "I do not have a ring. I know it is traditional. I will acquire you a ring. Will you marry me?"

Bones said nothing, staring in abject shock. It was true this was fast even for Vulcans. Several moments to process would be acceptable. "Is that Commander Spock? What is he doing?" he heard another cadet nearby mutter, but paid it no mind.

Through hysterical laughter, Jim managed to choke out, "Has he lost his fucking mind? Spock, are you sick?"

"Oh Christ!" Bones muttered, yanking a tricorder out of his bag to scan him. Of course, he was a doctor. A perfect profession to be his lifemate and challenge him intellectually, and to ensure his fragile health as a hybrid. Destiny and fate perhaps did exist.

"You need time to think," Spock said, rising smoothly to his feet once more. "I will acquire a ring. Rings are traditional."

"He doesn't like rings," Jim said, laughter gone and now starting to look worried.

"A necklace then! Perhaps vokaya," Spock said happily. "A necklace is traditional for Vulcan engagements. This is acceptable."

"Commander, do you even know his name?"

Spock blinked, looking between the two momentarily, entranced by the cute, concerned furrow between Bones' brow. "Bones. He is your boyfriend."

"Uh. No and no," Bones said, glaring at the results on the tricorder. "Dammit, these readings are all out of whack, Jim!"

"Chris says that's normal," Jim replied, though he looked worried. "Spock, I was joking. He's not my boyfriend, he's just my roommate. And his name is Leonard."

"McCoy," Leonard added gruffly, running another tricorder scan.

"Leonard McCoy," Spock almost sighed, tasting the name of his beloved on his tongue and feeling inordinately like his mother. He was unsure why they both looked so alarmed. "Then your boyfriend is single, Jim?"

"Uh yeah, 'cause he's not my boyfriend."

"Don't encourage his delusion!" Leonard snapped. "He's way too young for Bendii, and I'd swear Vulcans aren't prone to delusions or hallucinations-"

"You need time to think," Spock said. "You are both worried. I am of sound mind. I will go locate an appropriate necklace and come back to properly propose, Leonard."

"Commander, wait-!"

[teacup-gathering-itself]

James “unfathomable number of allergies and frankly astonishing number of recessive traits” Kirk is visually interesting to Spock especially when compared to the other humans around; of course he subconsciously keeps sliding his gaze over to the captain. He’s also directly under his command, his attention should veer to Kirk as opposed to anyone else on board. It’s just his mind logically choosing who to defer to and who likely will need his attention most urgently. It’s his job, and he’s excellent at this job. That’s all it is. A logical conclusion regarding a noted pattern.

It’s definitely not got anything to do with the way his barely-in-regulation uniform frames his body, or the physique he maintains, or the devastating silhouette he cuts, or the charisma he exudes, or his illogical approach to life that somehow still works, or his exceptionally emotive voice that fills a room effortlessly, or his sheer brilliance and masterful grasp of complex mathematical and scientific concepts, or anything of that sort. Of course not. That would be illogical. And Spock is a being who is rooted in logical above all else.

[illegalpaladin]

I'm not sure I've got a specific prompt for them in mind, but if you wanted to write something mcscotty for the drabble requests... that would be very cool!

When I got this prompt I was rubbing my little hands together like a fly. I've never written McScotty, but I definitely see the appeal!! I love both of them dearly. Here's what I came up with. I hope you like it!!

Scotty flinches. “Careful, Doctor. That stings.”

“Careful?” Leonard pauses his pass of the dermal regenerator and turns an angry glare up towards Scotty. “Now you’re worried about being careful?”

Scotty sighs, defeated. “It was just a hot pipe. Nothin’ to worry yourself over.”

They’re in Sickbay. Scotty hadn’t wanted to go, but–just his luck–Mr. Spock had been witness to the whole incident. And he, of course, had insisted. 

Not that he had any issues with spending some extra time with Leonard. 

Now, he’s sitting in a biobed, with Leonard’s hand gripping his wrist firmly. His palm is outstretched so that Leonard can see the burn stretched across his skin. 

“Nothing to worry about.” Leonard scoffs. Rolling his eyes, he turns the regenerator back on. “That’s what you said last week about the laceration on your leg.” 

“That was due to my own carelessness.” 

“And what you said about the chemical rash the week before that.” 

“A system malfunction. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” 

Leonard grunts. His gaze is sharp as he stares up at Scotty. “You’ve gotta be more careful, Monty.” 

Scotty just smiles softly. “It’s really not a big deal, Leonard. I can handle myself.”

Leonard shakes his head. Though the wound isn’t fully healed, he sets the regenerator down on the side of the biobed. Gently, he taps the tip of Scotty’s severed finger. “When does it become a big deal, Monty? When does it become too much to handle?”

Scotty falls quiet. He takes a moment to just study Leonard closely. He can see right through the act–he knows the scolding is covering a soft heart full of concern. He knows there’s affection and care behind every word.

It warms Scotty’s heart. Fills him with affection.

“Well,” Scotty whispers back, “for the things I cannae handle, I’ve got a doctor I can rely on.” 

There’s a flicker of warmth across Leonard’s face, but it’s quickly clouded by the same stern expression that Scotty has come to expect. “Spock practically dragged you down here.” 

Scotty feels the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”

Leonard stares at him for a long moment. It’s like they’re in a stand-off. A battle of wills. 

Finally, with a sigh, Leonard picks up the regenerator and returns his attention to Scotty’s burnt hand. “It’s a good thing I like you, Monty. Because you sure don’t make this doctor thing easy.” 

[setmeatopthepyre]

Mustache

[ @118dailydrabble day 67] [tommy begins snippets] [118 words]

“What the hell got into Cap today?” Sal mutters, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

Howie shrugs. “Pissed that he has to find someone to replace Eli?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy says, keeping his voice low. “He didn’t exactly put in the effort to find a second paramedic until Eli trained you for it.”

“So he just doesn’t trust me to do it alone, what a shocker.”

“Well, whatever it is, he’s walking around like a man on a mission,” Sal says.

Howie sighs. “And we can only wonder what that mission is.”

“To boldly go where no mustache has gone before?” Tommy suggests, earning him a bright laugh from Howie.

Sal groans. “You two gotta boldly get out.”

[yourbuerokrat2]

It was Picards retirement party. His former senior crew, some important diplomats and a self-proclaimed 'special guest' were there. Whose presence was, aside from his commentary during various speeches and a clear attempt at hogging Picards attention, strangely tolerable.

Until the end, that is.

It was .. bewildering when Q shook everyones hands, even congratulating Beverly on her new position and Riker on his captaincy.

"I am sure you all will be very busy. But don't you worry. I'll take good care of him from now on."

Putting his arm around Picard, Q snapped his fingers and they both were gone.

[subcutaneous-transponder]

Like Chamomile and Sunshine

Here's some fluffy Kirk/Spock drabble.

     Warm water spilled over Spock’s shoulders, rolling down his lean body. James was pressed against him, sharing in the stream of warmth that engulfed him. His muscles were slowly untensing, taut from arousal. Jim’s hands slid over his chest and wrapped around the back of his neck. The warmth of his large palms seeped into his skin. The height difference between them had only just occurred to Spock.

Jim was an inch or two shorter than he was, and perked himself up as he brushed his lips softly against Spock’s. As delicate as a whisper. “You taste so sweet, you know?” Spock murmured against Jim’s mouth.

“Do I?” Jim smirked.

Spock hummed, “like chamomile and sunshine.” James laughed, a smile stretching gloriously across his face, meeting the piercing blue of his eyes.

“And what does sunshine taste like?” His fingers slipped into Spock's hair. Spock loved when Jim did this; it drove him totally insane.

“Let me run some tests to find out for you,” Spock cooed, kissing Jim again, this time pulling him close, wrapping his torso up in his arms. James grunted softly against his lips and it was the most adorable sound Spock had heard escape Jim. When he finally found the strength to withdraw, he made sure to wrap a white plush towel around his hips before pulling a towel off the rack and holding it open for Jim. Spock felt Jim’s eyes lingering over him.

After a long flustered moment, James stepped into Spock’s offered towel. Spock wrapped him up, ensuring Jim’s warmth as he dried. Jim beamed up at Spock. “Thank you.” Spock fought the urge to ruffle Jim’s bouncy, golden hair with the towel.

A smile seized the edges of Spock’s lips. He grinned at James. “You’re welcome, t’hy’la.”

“T’hy’la?” James flushed harder. “My beloved,” Spock confirmed sweetly. “My love. You possess my heart to beat.”

Jim’s eyes filled with joy. He brought his finger tips to Spock’s, gently pressing them together. “I love you, too.”

[captainofthestrangestship]

Leonard McCoy Valentine's Event Day 4: Rose Petals

“He loves me.” Jim sing songs as he plucks a petal off a rose, it drifts to the floor of their quarters. 

Leonard rolls his eyes, how Jim got a rose in the middle of space, he doesn't know.

"He loves me not." He flicks that petal away.

"He loves me. He loves me not."

It goes on, Jim picking, plucking, pulling the rose bare of its petals until there's only two left.

"He loves me not."

Jim grins at him.

"He loves me."

"Don't need a rose to tell you that." Leonard says before pressing his lips to Jim's.

[lady-lazarus-13]

Kira Makes a Traditional Dinner for Ziyal

This cute art by @starfleetspacecadet earlier and it inspired me. Sooo, here’s a drabble:

When Ziyal came to stay on DS9, Kira was determined to share more Bajoran culture with the younger woman. And what was more Bajoran and traditional than a good meal made from scratch, blessed by the Prophets?

Kira could envision it now. Their bowls would be full of ratamba stew. Their hands were full of warm hasperat, soaked in the briny sauce that would sting their eyes with the heat. It would be a hearty, warming meal. Kira would love to share that. 

“Kira, I’d love to help! Thank you for thinking of me. Oh, this will be so wonderful!” Ziyal hugged Kira in excitement.

“Alright, meet me at my quarters tonight at 1900 and then we’ll get started.”

As the time to 1900 grew closer, Kira thought back to her mother teaching her how to make hasperat. It had been the occupation, but it was during the good days. The quiet ones. A small moment in time where children could still play outside before sunset without fear of dying in a flash bombing by a passing Cardassian ship. That came later. But Kira could remember a rare sunny afternoon, the smell of flour, and the light splash of spring wine from the last bottle stored in the back of the pantry. 

“We don’t know when we’ll have it again, so we can’t put in too much. But here, try a little.” She dabbed her finger in the wine and tapped a small drop on Kira’s lips. It tasted sour and sweet. Her mother had been right, it would be a very long time until Kira ever saw a bottle of spring wine again during the occupation. Now it was an item, a luxury she could afford. 

Kira could remember the taste. The slight sweetness of the wine in the wrap. The substitute chillies used in the brine were weak, but burned her tongue all the same. The bite of the pan as her mom encouraged her to grab the tip of the wrap with her fingers to flip it. How fluffy and warm it was with bits of brown across the top. Ripping it apart and watching the steam rise. 

But she did not remember her mother’s recipe anymore. The rest of it, the exact measurements, were lost with her. 

Kira bit her lip and grabbed her PADD to find one. Ziyal deserved to try an authentic, traditional recipe anyhow. What she’d learned, what her mother prepared, had been made with limited rations. Never mind the times Kira had made it during her days with the Resistance.

They’d spent an hour grinding down dried and stale katterpods instead of the traditional grain. It came out chewy, hard, and cold. The brine flavorless with no kick. The only warmth their meal offered was in the smiles of her comrades as they bit into the far from traditional hasperat. 

She pulled up the first recipe and grew alarmed. Kira’s pantry wasn’t the fullest, after all, the replicator did just fine. 

But these so-called traditional recipes required ingredients Kira had never heard of in her entire life. What were all these ingredients? Kira took a deep breath. There was only one solution. 

She walked up the steps of Ops and knocked on the door. “I apologize, Captain, but could I ask for your advice on a personal matter?”

Sisko looked up from the PADD. “Of course, Major. Happy to make time for you. What’s on your mind?”

“You seem to know a thing or two about cooking,” Kira said, but before she could continue, Sisko laughed. 

“I’d hope so. While I had other ambitions, my dad did want me to be a chef like him.”

“Exactly! So I’m hoping you could give me advice.” Kira explained the situation and passed him the PADD with the recipe. “But it’s top-rated and it seemed like a good choice.”

Sisko hummed a tune as he looked over the ingredients, tapping here and there. “I have a few of these so-called necessities in my pantry. I’m happy to lend a neighbor some sugar.”

“Sugar?” Kira blanched. “Sir, I don’t think the recipe calls for—.”

Sisko flashed her a handsome smile. “Sorry, Major, a figure of speech. But I’ve got some of these. Growing the red chillies as a matter of fact, and I’m happy to let you have some.”

Sisko handed back the PADD. A different recipe was on it and starred.

“Was something wrong with the other one?” Kira asked with a curious look on her face. 

“No, no.” Sisko shook his head. “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate making that particular version. The author is Cardassian.”

“…a Cardassian with a recipe called Traditional Bajoran Hasperat? Will they not steal anything?” Kira grasped the PADD hard enough that it could crack. “I can’t believe it. No wonder the ingredients didn’t make sense.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid, Major, it won’t be the first or last time a recipe is misattributed and misplaced. They might have meant well, but that sort of thing has been happening for a long, long time.” 

Kira laid everything out on her counter after getting the ingredients from Sisko’s well-stocked pantry and garden. The stew required time to simmer, so Kira started before Ziyal arrived. It also wasn’t that much of a mystery or required a strict recipe.

Kira had watched her dad prepare this with only one root vegetable, and it still came out delicious. Now she had fresh, nutrient-packed vegetables gathered from a station merchant and Sisko’s garden. 

And though she wouldn’t say it to him so directly, what a beautiful gift from the Emissary for his help with this meal. Kira would need to bring him some as thanks.

Kira cut everything evenly and threw everything in the pot. This part was easy. Admittedly, it was the wraps and brine of the hasperat that Kira was worried about. 

Then at 19.01, the doorbell rang. Kira took a quick sip of her sweet spring wine, wiped her hands on a towel, and strode to the door. 

When it slid open, there was Ziyal, who was pretty and smiling as always. She had a bottle of spring wine in her hands with a red bow tied around its neck. 

“Uh, Garak said it was polite to bring a gift.” Ziyal handed it to her gently, and Kira’s chest felt warm.  

Together, they diced the chillies and prepared the thickening brine. And though the recipe called for more spring wine, Kira only put a splash in the bowl. 

“Are you sure? The recipe said—.” 

“Trust me. It’s how my mother did it,” said Kira softly. Ziyal nodded, and together they kneaded the dough on the floured surface.

They got comfortable on plush seat cushions, and the finished meal sat between them on the coffee table. It took some prodding, but Kira encouraged Ziyal to speak the blessings of the Prophets over the food. She hesitated, a purple blush rushing up her cheeks, but she did a good job, and Kira told her so.

Now it was the moment of truth. Ziyal took a bite of the hasperat and paused after a few chews. Swallowed, then gasped. Her eyes were wide and full of tears as she fanned her mouth. “I-is it supposed to be this hot? Did I add too many ch-chillies?”

“No, you did it right.” Though Kira could handle the heat better, she still had to wipe her eyes as well. “This is exactly how hot a traditional hasperat should be. Here.”

Kira handed Ziyal a glass of spring wine to wash away the heat. After how many gulps, some bites of stew, they each took up their remaining hasperats and ate them until nothing was left but stained fingers and tingling lips. Not a single tear in their eyes as they finished the bottle of spring wine.