#leonard mccoy will fuck any alien he wants

[spevvy]

Everybody always bangs on about Jim Kirk being obsessed with shagging aliens, but let me tell you a thing.

There are many times during the course of my day that I stop what I'm doing and think to myself that it was pretty damn interesting the way Dr Leonard Horatio McCoy told Zefram Cochrane to stop being such a bigoted asshole for not wanting to fuck an alien just cos it was a different species...

[frecklenog]

after spending an evening listening to jessie gender tell me about starfield, capitalism, gender, selfhood, and ursula k leguin, i had. some Thoughts about another science fiction series; one you're probably at least somewhat familiar with if you follow this blog or watch ms gender's videos.

to start off; hey. this is partially based on my own experiences, my understanding of them, and how that lens can be applied to star trek. it's also very much inspired by the work of jessie earl, whose channel i can't recommend enough. she's funny, intelligent, kind, and an incredibly gifted writer, and she's a gift to both the star trek, trans, and "video essay youtuber" communities. show her some love!

that said, i want to start by looking at star trek. we all know the vulcans, don't we? pointy ears, green blood — spock's dad's side of the family. gifted with telepathic abilities, vulcans are practitioners of the mind meld, also called things like a mind link, probe, touch, or fusion, which is exactly what it sounds like. it allows two (or more, on occasion) sentient life forms to exchange thoughts as though they were one being.

of course, this kind of thing is common in media. steven universe has gem fusions, which should be examined from a plural viewpoint in their own right. x-man charles xavier almost routinely delves into the minds of others. but rarely does it have any lasting impact on the characters. even star trek itself falls into this, with doctor leonard mccoy not getting nearly enough screentime in the voyage home to show off what must have been the intensely strange experience of carrying spock's katra within him. (maybe that's addressed in a novelization or comic that i'm just unaware of, but regardless, i haven't seen it, and i think that's a travesty. (and if you know of a book where that gets touched on oh my god give me the fucking link now-))

there are instances of star trek mind melds having lasting effects, as discovery shows part of sarek's katra being permanently linked to michael burnham, though that could be considered an extenuating circumstance, what with her being on death's doorstep at the time of the meld. which most trek fans probably already know, and is honestly more fantastical than i care to bother reading with a plural lens. however, star trek is a fandom with nearly sixty years of history, including hundreds of books and comics from various authors and publishers. these stories are plentiful, bizzare, and sometimes outright terribly written. i don't blame anyone for not having read them all — to do so seems like a terrifying task.

but the one i want to look at right now is a particular run of the star trek: the next generation comic, published in 2000 by wildstorm comics.

the run is called perchance to dream — a lovely, flourishing name for a comic where half of the plot could be it's very own jessie gender video for how much sexual weirdness goes on (but i'll leave that to the professionals). the part we're going to focus on is that the b-plot of the run surrounds captain jean luc picard, captain of the uss enterprise-d. the comic is set after the events of the star trek: the next generation season 3 premiere, best of both worlds: part 2. in that episode, the captain had been disconnected from the borg hivemind (after being assimilated in part 1), and he returned to duty as usual at the end of the episode (though he does choose to go on leave in the following episode). it's also set after another episode from later on in season 3, — episode 23, sarek, wherein picard preformed a mind meld with sarek in order to allow the aging ambassador better emotional control, as it was being ravaged by his bendii syndrome — essentially, vulcan dementia.

the a-plot of the run isn't really important to us, i'm afraid — although it reveals to us in the second issue that worf accidentally killed a kid on another soccer team as a child. suffice to say, one of the abilities of the aliens the crew has to play diplomacy with is that they can prod into people's traumas through their nightmares. they have a lot going on. it's a comic book from 2000, what did you expect?

and, speaking of things that are easily dated, the third issue of the run brings us to the second part of today's topic.

image id: a comic book page. beginning at the top, a narration box reads: "chief medical officer's log, stardate 48503.8. lieutenant commander data, doctor selar, and i have gone through the damiano [alien] records regarding the chova. while no direct way to combat the weapon was ever developed we have discovered that certain people were immune to the chova's effects and could destroy the weapon." doctor beverly crusher is beside the narration box, depicted from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the right and saying "there has to be another way." a vulcan -- doctor selar -- is viewed from the waist up, holding a padd in her right hand and facing to the right of the page. she is saying "we have been over the records six times a piece, doctor. if there is anything to find, it is likely that we would have found it by now." data, an android designed to appear as a human with pale yellow plastic skin, is holding a book slightly behind doctor selar. his mouth is slightly open as he speaks. "i believe doctor selar is correct. this is the only course of action open to us under the circumstances." to the right of this panel is another shot of beverly from the shoulders up, this time facing to the left. her expression is stern as she says "i know, i know, it's just-- it could kill him." in the next panel. beverly is shown from the back, and captain jean-luc picard enters, saying "you sent for me, doctor?" beverly responds, "yes, jean-luc. please sit down." below this, the left panel takes most of the remaining page. this time we see captain picard from the back, while beverly faces the reader head-on, speaking first. "we've gone through the records chief du're [irrelevant one-off character from the a-plot] provided. it turns out that there was one group of people who were immune to the chova when it was first used. mpd's." jean-luc repeats "mpd's?" curiously. to the right, data is shown from the shoulders up, saying; "mpd stands for multiple personality disorder. mpd can come about through psycholo--" but beverly interrupts him; "not now, data." end id.

ah, multiple personality disorder. a term that hasn't been clinically used since 1994. these days, we call this dissociative identity disorder (did), but it's one dissociative disorder of many, which is what beverly is talking about. for whatever reason, people with this sort of dissociative plurality seem to be immune to the specific trauma nightmares induced by these aliens. (finally, some good news.)

okay, neat! so, dissociative disorders and plurality have been canonically addressed in star trek. let's see how it goes!

image id also available unbroken in alt text. image id pt 1: beginning in the top left corner, beverly is shown from the shoulders up, facing the right side of the page as she speaks. "the point is the people who are afflicted with more than one personality would destroy the chova before it could affect them. the chova was only built for one personality. mpds would literally overwhelm it." in the next panel, to the right, picard is shown from the chest up, partially obstructed by speech bubbles. facing right, he asks; "how does this help us?" beverly is also in this right panel, although from behind, and nearly completely obfuscated by speech bubbles. she answers; "well, mpd was never a common occurance, and it's almost unheard of these days.there've only been two cases reported in the federation in the last two hundred years -- and damiano [the alien planet] hasn't seen a case in the last fifty."beverly continues. "however, we do have someone on the enterprise who has the makings of a classic mpd. i'd like your permission to ask this person to volunteer to undergo a mind-meld with doctor selar in order to bring the submerged personalities to the fore."

this particular line, i take umbrage with, as dissociative disorders are a lot more common than people might think, and star trek has shown us a future as tumultuous as our own present for decades. there would absolutely be people experiencing some level of multiplicity in everyday life both within the federation and without. but, again, this was written in the 90s, i think? i don't know how long it takes a team of professionals to make a comic book. but, i digress.

image id pt 2: picard responds; "permission granted, as long as it remains on a volunteer basis. who is the officer in question?" below, the leftmost panel is larger than the right. beverly crusher is shown in profile, facing right, with doctor selar and data behind her from the chest and shoulders up. picard is on the right of the page, slightly smaller, but also in profile, facing right to contrast beverly as he listens to her speak. "it's someone who's been exposed to an especially intense vulcan mind-meld, who lived another life for thirty-five subjective years— and who had a second personality grafted onto his own for a brief period by the borg. the next panel takes the entire width of the page, and much of the height. picard is shown in the middle, standing in a purple void. around him are three other male characters shown in bust. from left to right, they are; kamin, a humanoid man bearing great resemblance to an older imagining of jean-luc picard, wearing a plain blue shirt. sarek, a vulcan with grey hair, a turquoise shirt, and a green stone amulet on a large gold chain around his neck. he is cast in shadow and his eyes are not visible. locutus, an ashen version of jean-luc picard, with about a third of his face obscured by black metal exoplating and implants that surround his right eye. tubes come off of his face and neck, trailing behind him, and a red light made to shine at his point of focus shines from the side of his head. there are several yellow narration boxes, which read as follows. "sarek of vulcan. picard mind-melded with the legendary ambassador in order to lend him strength for an important negotiation — an act that almost cost picard his sanity." "kamin of kataan. a probe sent out by kataan before their sun went nova allowed picard to live most of kamin's adult life as a way to remember his people."

oh, yeah. did... did i not mention that that happened?

basically, he was targeted by a device that beamed him into the world's most immersive vr game — kind of like the one from rick and morty? if you watched that? if you didn't, sorry for bringing it up, and if you did, ditto. but it forced picard to live out an entire life as though he'd been abducted by aliens and placed in a sims game. though, ultimately, the plot intricacies of the inner light are beside my point.

image id pt 3: "locutus of borg. quite simply, the greatest nightmare of picard's entire life. the subversion of his intellect, his will, his very self to the collective of the borg." "all three are part of him, but they do not dominate. if picard does as doctor crusher suggests, he will subsume himself in order to let the others come to the fore. for sarek, for kamin, he would be willing." "but locutus--?" the next panel takes a little more than half of the remainder of the page. a narration box in the upper left reads; "then he thinks of his first officer, counselor, chief of security, chief engineer, and all the others who have fallen victim to this vicious weapon." the rest of the panel shows two sleeping figures, both humanoid, in what is presumably sickbay. the last panel takes the remainder. a narration box in the upper left reads; "and jean-luc picard makes the only decision he is capable of making." captain picard is shown from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the left and saying; "what do i need to do?" below his speech bubble is another yellow text box, which reads "to be concluded..."

...which is how issue 3 leaves us.

fortunately, we can pick up in issue 4 with ease, since these comics are over twenty years old. i'm going to do my best to limit my use of comic pages, juuuuust in case, but once we reach the sixth page, with the credits...

image id: a two-page spread. beginning in the uppermost left corner, narration boxes read; "welcome to the mind of jean-luc picard." "'locutus' was a personality superimposed upon picard when he was taken by the borg, meant to serve as the spokesperson for that cybernetic race's ruthless assimilation of what they described as the 'authority-driven culture' of the federation." "ambassador sarek of vulcan suffered from bendii syndrome. in order to keep the effects of this devastating illness from endangering his final mission, sarek entered into a deep mind-meld with picard in order to give the ambassador emotional control and stability." "kamin was a prominent member of the community of ressik on the long-dead world of kataan. a probe sent by the kataan people allowed picard to live kamin's life for several subjective decades, although less than half an hour passed in reality." "all of these personalities have made up a part of jean-luc picard, but he remained dominant." "until now." "this is the mind of jean-luc picard." the left page is mostly taken up by a large illustration of locutus, drawn in far more detail than before. trailing off to the right are two tubes or wires, as well as a speech bubble that reads "resistance is futile." also on this page are the details of the comic title, run, issue number, writers/artists, and copyright. taking up most of the right half of the right page is sarek of vulcan, drawn in less detail than locutus, but easily recognizable. his hair is a lighter grey, he is wearing white and cream robes and an amber amulet on a thick gold ring around his neck, and he is holding up his right hand in a vulcan salute/ta'al. depicted below sarek is kamin, drawn from the shoulders up, wearing a plain white shirt with a collar. below kamin is captain picard, also shown from the shoulders up, in his starfleet uniform, and surrounded by four lights, with two on either side of him. (there is also further copyright information beside him in fine print.)

...i'm pretty sure that this analysis falls under the "commentary" part of fair use. right?

but, regardless, this is kind of a huge thing to drop in a comic that virtually no one has bothered to read. i mean, especially when, amidst the clashing of picard's plurality with the a-plot, we get this panel;

image id: a single comic panel. kamin is shown from behind, speaking to locutus and sarek within a noneuclidean space with four circular white lights shining in the distance. "what is going on?" kamin asks. "we have been subdued for too long. but now we shall dominate, as we were meant to." locutus replies. sarek interrupts. "your logic is flawed, locutus. we are all merely aspects of jean-luc picard's mind." "you may be sarek of vulcan, but we are of the borg."

sarek is able to acknowledge himself, kamin, and locutus as "aspects" of captain picard, despite picard rarely if ever sensing them or their influence. picard is being, not just implied, but explicitly stated to have a latent form of plurality, and perchance to dream depicts it in a way that strikes true to members of my own system, at times, with certain alters first making themselves known in the front already well aware of who they are, and having existed without the my knowledge due to dissociative barriers that only came down later in life.

unfortunately, because this is a star trek media, locutus ends up assimilating kamin in the headspace and forcing himself into the front. however, as he does it, he says something that does, to an extent, resonate with the experience of being one among many, for better or worse.

image id: a single comic panel. locutus is shown facing the viewer, and his chin and the top of his head are cut off by the borders of the panel. his light breaks the plane of the panel to simulate the effect that it is shining into the "camera." locutus's mouth is open as he speaks; "for too long you have suppressed us, picard. but you are of the borg."

plurality is a defense mechanism by the brain to protect against trauma. it is, from what i have seen, more common among those who are already neurodivergent, which already presents in a myriad of ways. mixing the ugly truth of trauma with the raw reality of mental illness caused by it can result in certain alters feeling as though they are being suppressed by not being allowed to front and live their own life, depending on how the system functions. admittedly it is more common in fictional depictions of dissociative disorders for these alters to simply live their own lives in secret anyway, as is the case in the marvel tv series moon knight with marc spector, steven grant, and jake lockley (along with the other possible members of their system who may or may not be present depending on the canon, but those are the main three). but, in reality — or at least my experience — this more often translates to alters making themselves social media accounts, or using services like tupperbox or pluralkit on discord, or finding other ways to more discretely express themselves, such as icon changes or status updates.

but, getting back to star trek, this is ultimately a one-off comic. so captain picard saves the day with his secret alters, ends the mind meld with doctor selar, and goes back to living his life as a singlet, ready for the people of the future to be able to easily comprehend without having to read a very specific comic run from 2000.

...right?

image id: part of a comic page. each panel takes up roughly one quarter of the page each. in the first panel, counselor deanna troi is seen standing, having just entered captain picard's ready room. picard is shown from the back, sitting at his desk. "counselor! good to see you up and about." he greets her. "it's good to be up and about." she responds. "playing some old tunes?" [picard had been playing the ressikan flute prior to her entry.] picard responds. "mmm. i wanted to make sure that i still remembered how." in the next panel, we look over counselor troi's shoulder and across the desk at captain picard. "were you worried that you wouldn't?" she wonders. "actually, yes," picard answers. "after what happened..." the third panel shows picard facing the viewer head-on from the shoulders up. he continues, "i suppose i knew intellectually how close to the surface locutus, sarek, and kamin were. but i never really thought about it. they were — memories, experiences. no different from any other. but they're much more than that." the fourth panel shows counselor troi, facing slightly to the right as she speaks. "not much more. all three of them are part of you. but the important word is you. the fragmentation was artificially induced." picard asks; "was it?"

ultimately, yes, this is a one-off comic run that isn't very well known, and i only read because i took a personal interest in the subject matter. i knew going in that it wasn't going to fundamentally change the entire fandom's understanding of captain picard, or make the star trek fandom an instant haven for systems everywhere. but, still, captain picard has his doubts, and that truly touched me when i first read it as someone who was actively reckoning with the fact that past traumas that had impacted me more than i realized.

the comic goes on for a while longer, but the last thing it has to say on the subject of plurality is this.

image id: a single comic panel. counselor troi is seated in one of the chairs in captain picard's ready room, facing him from across his desk. she is on the left, facing partially right, and he is on the right, in profile facing left. the dialogue reads as follows. picard wonders, "was it [the dissociative fragmentation of his identity] truly a creation of the mind-meld, or was it simply breaking a dam that was already cracked?" riker interrupts over the comm. "riker to picard." "go ahead, number one," picard tells him. "it's time to beam down to damiano for the ceremony, sir." "thank you, commander."

and that's it. picard asks a question, then gets called away and never tells us his answer.

i think, at least subconsciously, that might be part of why i held star trek: picard to such a high standard.

to be clear, i hadn't read this comic when the first season of picard was coming out. but i was starting to grapple with my plurality, and i used fictional media as a means to do that (as is still evidenced by things like my system simon tag). the first season of the show was centered around both picard's relationship with both his legacy and his history with the borg collective. as mentioned in perchance to dream, captain picard had previously been assimilated by the borg collective — a cybernetic hivemind from the delta quadrant that absorbed cultures and species into itself, effectively wiping out the cultural histories of entire planets, at times, in their quest to become the "perfect" life form through a combination of genetic engineering and mechanical augmentation. and, as this happened, i came to know a young man named hugh who took form within my mind. a fictional introject, or fictive, of the character of the same name from season 5, episode 23, i, borg. with his help, i grew to further understand my own plurality, and saw the potential for our stories to be told in the wake of reclamations from the borg collective. the reclamation project became a hyperfixation, and—

and then came the jurati collective.

my own system bears no connection to the jurati collective, but it is a wonder, and can be examined through a plural lens as an allegory for our own experiences as dissociatives. many consciousnesses, all working together as one towards a common goal, and willingly. after all, what is a system if not a hive within one body?

and then came picard's third season, completely ignoring her, along with all the unique perspectives that stories surrounding her might have offered in favor of what felt like a final next generation movie.

ignoring me, it felt like.

is that silly? probably. but, try as i might, i am human, and so i have a propensity for illogic — no matter how much my autistic brain craves structure and definitive explanations in order to understand the world.

i'll be honest, i'm not sure how to end this. but, sometimes i remember the time in season 6, episode 20, the chase, when picard became incredibly excited about an ancient alien society that believed people were, indeed, collectives within themselves.

"...the kurlan civilisation believed that an individual was a community of individuals. inside us are many voices, each with its own desires, its own style, its own view of the world." -captain jean-luc picard

and i realize that, with the core tenant of this series lying in the infinite diversity of both the known and the unknowable — the building blocks are already in place. star trek is a media that has grown over the decades, and hopefully will continue to do so, because there are still so many ways for new and interesting and meaningful stories to be told within this franchise.

but, if you can't summon your representation from a nostalgiabait sequel/reboot within a preexisting intellectual property... there's nothing to stop you from crafting your own story and letting loose as many systems as you like.

[obscure-reference-girl]

Masks & Misunderstandings Chapter 1

Pairing: Pavel Chekov/Leonard McCoy

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, minor depiction of violence/injury associated with dangerous away missions

Word Count: 2984

Story Summary: Leonard thought that a nightclub where you had to wear a mask was idiotic, but he humored Jim and accompanied him to the club during shore leave anyway. After Jim fucked off into the crowd of dancing bodies without so much as a ‘never you mind’, Leonard went looking for him and found something unexpected. Meet unexpected: sexy, young, blonde...and if he reminded him a bit too much of a certain Russian navigator he wasn't going to linger on that thought.

Chapter Summary: Same as story for this one

Author’s Notes: This is my first time sharing posting a fic on tumblr, but I love my fandom community on here and wanted to share.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45899593/chapters/115526359

Leonard Mccoy thought that he must spend at least twenty-five percent of his time sighing at James Kirk. He didn’t think anyone could blame him either. It was endlessly frustrating to have a best friend who was a genius and somehow also incredibly stupid. Jim was a good man, and a great captain, but he just took such immense joy in ‘shit stirring’ as Leonard’s mother would say. He had a knack for finding dangerous situations and throwing himself headlong into them. He also had no respect for the dangers of strange alcohols and alien STDs.

It was this last character flaw that found Leonard in bars and nightclubs far more often than would be his druthers on shore leave. Sure, he liked his alcohol, but he liked to drink it alone, in his quarters, like a proper divorced old-codger. He supposed he wasn’t being entirely fair to himself. He was a lonely old curmudgeon, but he wasn’t entirely without friends or socialization. He did like to play a game of cards on the ship with the booze and conversation free-flowing, or go out for a drink at a low-key pub with Jim and Scotty, but the key phrase there was low-key. He felt entirely too old for the blaring noise and flashing lights of the current establishment. Scotty, of course, had down-right refused to come when Jim had asked him. Leonard felt that he did not have this luxury. As Jim’s doctor, and more importantly best friend, he felt responsible to at least try to prevent an interstellar incident. He would much rather be drinking a good bourbon in his room while reading the latest issue of Xenomedicine (there was an interesting paper on the Andorian lymphatic system that he was looking forward to), but the younger man was determined to “have fun” so Leonard did his best to humor him. Which meant that here he was, sitting at the bar of an alien nightclub, drinking some sort of electric blue alcohol that Jim has purchased him before fucking off into the crowd of dancing bodies without so much as a ‘never you mind’.

In an effort to “blend”, Leonard was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved, black, uniform undershirt. His boots were also uniform and far clunkier than anything he saw around him. They would be hell to try to dance in. It was a good thing that Leonard Mccoy did not dance. He took another drink of the impossibly blue drink in front of him and grimaced. It tasted like cheap vodka and blue curaçao. That combination might have been fine when he was nineteen, but he liked to think that his palette had become reasonably more refined since then. His nose scrunched and the mask he was wearing jabbed at it uncomfortably. For some god-forsaken reason, patrons were required to wear masks at this club. It was stupid, and downright dangerous in his opinion, but he had reminded himself that he was humoring Jim and that it wasn’t like he had any intentions of personally getting up to any shenanigans anyway. So he had let Jim tie a plain, black mask made of a slightly stiff leather material around his head. It rested on top of nose and cheekbones and was only uncomfortable if he scrunched his nose. He guessed that meant the alcohol was going to have to go.

As the ship’s CMO it wasn’t as if the masks made much of a difference to him where his crewmates were concerned. There were some crewman that he had not personally given a physical, but generally speaking he had seen enough of just about everyone on the ship to know that it was Gaila over there in the short blue dress dancing with the female Tellarite and Sulu in the black tank top off dancing with a group of ensigns from security. At least that group looked they were just having a good time with some friends and not like they would be coming to him in the morning with mysterious STDs. He couldn’t say the same for Jim who was conspicuously absent from his line of sight.

Leonard peered around, trying to catch sight of him,  but was having no success. He decided his only option was to abandon his drink and wade into the mass of dancing bodies. It wasn’t as though he was going to finish it anyway. He sighed and stood up from the bar stool, throwing a few credits down on the counter as a tip. He carefully made his way over to the dancefloor, dodging groping couples and stumbling drunks. As he approached the edge of the dancefloor he caught a flash of blonde hair and focused in on a dancing body a few yards away from him. It only took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t Jim. The hair was far too curly and the body much too lean. He also wasn’t wearing the same mask that Jim had been as though the rest wasn’t a dead giveaway.

The man’s mask reminded him of the mask from that one ancient musical that Jocelyn had dragged him to see what seemed like a lifetime ago. What was the name of it? Phantom of the Opera House, or something like that. Except this mask was black and covered the entirety of the upper half of the face along with the one side that descended to cover the lower half. It covered the bridge of the boy’s nose too. He really couldn’t make out much more than pale skin and a strong jawline from the portion of the man’s face that was visible. The man certainly wasn’t hiding the rest of his body though. He was shirtless, and sweat glistened off his luminescent pale skin. He was definitely human, but Leonard didn’t recognize the freckles and moles scattered across his shoulders and chest. He supposed it wasn’t that crazy that there would be other humans on vacation at the pleasure planet where they were currently docked for a bit of much needed shore leave. The Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and a tight ass clad in leather pants that hugged him in all the right places.

The man, or boy really now that he was closer and had a better look-though when he had moved closer to get a better look he couldn’t say- fuck, he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. He was certainly too young for Leonard to consider even if the prospect of a liaison with a human who was not part of the crew was certainly tempting. The boy was dancing with two masculine aliens who certainly seemed to be enjoying sharing his attention. Leonard tried to shake himself out of the trance he found himself in, tried to turn around and walk away, but somehow he couldn’t. It’s not like he’d ever exhibited any voyeuristic tendencies, but here he was watching the boy writhing between the two aliens, unable to drag his gaze away.

The song changed and the beat dropped to a slower, almost heartbeat like rhythm with a predatory edge to it. The change in music was almost enough to startle Leonard to movement when the boy looked up and caught his gaze. The boy’s movements had slowed in accordance to the music and he was panting lightly, his plush pink lips parted. His tongue darted out to moisten them and Len could think of about a million things he’d like to do with tongue, that young, nubile tongue. That sobering thought was enough to snap himself out of it and he turned away to leave the dancefloor. He hoped to find that Jim had made his way back to the bar at some point. He made it just to the edge of the dancefloor when he felt a slim hand on his arm.

He turned to see the boy standing there before him, dancing companions abandoned in the crowd. He insinuated himself right into Leonard’s personal space and Len could now see the sweat making the damp curls stick a bit to his forehead and the shadow of light stubble along his jaw. He held Leonard’s eyes with a piercing gaze. Len tried, but he wasn’t able to discern what color they were. They were definitely light, but the strobe lights reflected in them: red, then purple, then blue. Regardless of what color they were, they were gorgeous. Len swallowed thickly and tried to force his mouth to form words. Before he could manage to get anything out the boy had pressed himself up against Len with one hand pressing into his chest and the other sliding up to cup the back of his neck. The boy leaned forward and nipped at his ear, and pushing their bodies together even more. Len could now feel the kid-no definitely not a kid, not with this raw sexual confidence- the man’s erection now pressing hard against his thigh. He knew that his own hard-on was all too obvious. And if part of the reason for his erection was how much the young man reminded him of a certain Russian Junior Lieutenant, well he would deal with that tomorrow. He would like to blame the reaction on the alcohol, he really would, but he had only consumed half of his first drink before abandoning it. The man must have found Len equally appealing since he moved his lips down and licked a hot, wet, stripe up Len’s neck before dropping his hands and hooking two fingers through one of Len’s belt loops, tugging forward gently. The boy-no man, cocked his head slightly and smirked at Len as though issuing a challenge. Stupidly Len felt himself giving a very small nod.

The man took Len’s hand and he found himself being led away from the bar and down a dark hallway. He could barely make out couples writhing in darkly lit recesses as they passed by before the man suddenly stopped and pulled Leonard into a dark alcove. He could no longer see the flashing lights of the dancefloor, but he could still feel the low beat of the music pulsing though the floor and into his body. The intense pulse and the man’s sharp gaze were intoxicating in a way that had nothing to with alcohol. His pupils were blown wide with desire, but the light was still too faint for Len to make out the color. He mentally cursed at how badly he wanted to know, but was quickly distracted by the man’s hands sliding up under his t-shirt. Suddenly he was moving again and his own hands were running over hot flesh that covered angular bones and lean muscle. He couldn’t believe that he was really doing this, but he also couldn’t quite bring his lust addled mind to care. He let his hands slide down the mystery man’s back until they cupped his very firm ass, pulling their hips together. He let out a small groan and the man tipped his head back at the sound, a harsh breath issuing from his nose.

It was strange to be this intimate with someone who was so quiet, but Len was assured of his partners consent at every step by the eager push and pull of his hands on Len’s body. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned forward and ran his lips along the man’s exposed jawline. He nipped and kissed his way down the man’s neck until he latched on and sucked a bruising kiss where the man’s neck met his shoulder. He started to pull away before he could actually leave a hickey like a fucking teenager when the man let out a sigh and tangled a hand in Leonard’s hair, keeping his mouth pressed against the spot. Never known to be an unobliging lover Leonard continued sucking a bruise into the man’s skin until suddenly he drew away slightly and reached between them to tug at the button of Leonard’s jeans. The man tugged Leonard’s pants down, pulling his boxers down with them to below his cock and Len’s eyes just about damn near rolled back in his head when he felt slim, but strong fingers wrap around him. The hand moved up and down his length a few times, but it was obviously unnecessary. Leonard doubted that he had ever been harder in his life. He groaned as he felt the hand leave him, but opened his eyes to see the man pulling a packet of lubricant from his pocket before shoving his own pants roughly down around his knees. He handed the packet to Len and turned around keeping his gaze over his shoulder, still issuing that challenging look. His gaze flicked down to the packet in Len’s hand accompanied by a small jerk of his head before coming back up to his eyes. Len didn’t need words to get the message “get on with it, then”. The man pressed his hands into the wall and stuck his ass out. Leonard tried to not fumble as he ripped open the packet of lube and slicked up his right hand, placing the remainder of the packet in his shirt pocket

Len gently pressed one finger to the other man’s ass spreading lube around and teasing a bit before gently dipping inside. He waited for a reassuring nod before adding a second finger. The man’s head had dropped forward to one of his forearms pressed against the wall and Leonard absently ran his free hand up the man’s back to twirl in the curls at the base of his neck. When the man started fucking himself on Len’s fingers, he got the message and started scissoring them and rubbing them against the soft spot just a couple of inches inside. The other man’s moans encouraged him to add a third finger and before long the man was fucking himself on Leonard’s fingers in earnest. Leonard removed his fingers almost like a question and the man groaned again and nodded harshly. With that encouragement, Leonard pushed some more lube into the man’s ass with his fingers and spread the rest of the lubricant liberally over his cock. He lined himself up and pushed gently and then it was like all of the air had been sucked out of his chest.

It had been a long time since Leonard had been with a man and he had almost forgotten just how tightly another man’s ass gripped your cock. Surely he hadn’t forgotten entirely. This really was tighter than anything he had ever felt before. He eased in painstakingly slowly, letting the other man set the pace. He had been on the receiving end of things a few times himself and knew that it could be a bit uncomfortable at first, even if highly pleasurable. He reached his hand around to help by stroking the other man’s cock. It was a little longer and a little thinner than his own, but it felt perfect in his hand. He couldn’t help but imagine what this man’s cock would like sliding into his own ass and had to sharply shake the thought out of his head. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see this man again. He couldn’t let the torturously delightful sounds the other man was making cause him to forget that. Even if it felt like his skin was on fire and his brain was full of static and he would never be able to get this man out of his head. He was buried to the base in heat now and felt like he might combust in spite of the scientific impossibility.

He was trying to wait patiently for the signal to move when the other man started fucking himself back onto Leonard’s cock. Len took up the initiative and started fucking the man for real, the slapping of skin drowned out by the music that couldn’t quite cover the cries and moans that they were making. He knew that people could hear and he knew that he should care, but he just…couldn’t. He was pounding into the man now, so hard that he would be worried he was causing him pain if it weren’t for the fact that he kept crying out in pleasure. His hand, too, moved faster over the other man’s cock and he could feel the tightening around him signaling the man’s impending release. With a soft cry, the man came, spilling over Leonard’s hand as his ass tightened to a vice around his cock. And if that didn’t just send him over the edge like a bolt of white-hot lightning flashing through him. He came with a guttural howl that someone had to have noticed. His own heartbeat echoed in his ears drowning out all sounds as his cock twitched over and over except for a word that he couldn’t identify in a language he definitely did not speak.

He regretfully slipped out of the warm depths and tucked himself back into his pants. He would clean up when he made it back to his quarters. It wasn’t as though he planned on hanging around. He leaned back against the wall, pressing the side of his face to the cool concrete, his eyes fluttering closed, the blood rushing in his ears. He knew that there was no point in trying to get to know this man, there was no future here, but he couldn’t help the words that slipped past his lips.

“What’s your name?” He breathed out harshly. When there was no response for several beats he opened his eyes and found himself alone. Fuck. It was only then that he realized he had never even properly kissed the man and if that wouldn’t just haunt him the rest of his life the memory of the most mind boggling orgasm he had ever experienced certainly would.

[katyspersonal]

Okkkkay I've finished watching season 1 of Star Trek (ToS) so here are my thoughts:

- I have some criticism to how episodes are structured- i.e. every episode lasts 50 minutes but 49 are an action and the very last 50th minute is the resolution :facepalm:

- Nonetheless, episodes are FUN to watch. They remind me of what I loved about Classic Who - every episode is a contained story and addresses an oddly specific societal issue through an episodic character

- I already talked about Lazarus episode in a separate post, but still, I think that's good enough that a single episode can cause a wholeass essay about ethics

- I think I legit love Spock, lmao

- I mean not as much in character crush way (though this too), but as in, admiration way. Like you know how some people get gender envy? Well he is more like neurotype envy thing for me o_o' I don't think words can describe how much I want to be as stoic and logical as him. He is, like... Neurodivergency envy. The only way I can describe how I feel.

- However, interactions between McCoy and Spock are the funniest thing ever XD

- McCoy is THE most funny character in general

- I also loved an oddly personal moment about Spock! There was an episode about the spores on a certain planet causing people to be happy relaxed idiots without ambitions... And although Kirk figured later that sending a certain sound currency could cause the liberation effect, Spock tho? He knew one of the people affected (a woman named Layla, pardner if I spelled her name wrong), and despite the plan, he chose to deal with her PERSONALLY, by breaking her heart

Like... This was NOT necessary in the slightest, and it was very sweet of him

- In general, I am very happy about how Spock is treated. He is not idealized, but he is not condemned either! His near computery, logical approach sometimes fails everyone but sometimes saves the day! Some people love it, some people hate it. He feels like a person with unusual brain more than he feels like an alien, and this is good! He was the best display of neurodivergent person before it became cool.

- There also was a character Khan (again sorry if I misspell the name; again, I watch it with my mom who knows exactly 0 English so we get subtitles). But this character was really charismatic o_o Feels a waste to have him for just one episode

- I noticed they dropped the character.. again. There was this blonde staff member (you know, the one with checker hair style)? She just mysteriously vanished ;-; Wish it wasn't done like that, she was promoted like a rather consistent character.

- Basically: Kirk, Spock and Leonard McCoy are the MAIN trio, and then Uhura, Sulu and Scott are secondary characters who are consistent

- I think I warmed up to Kirk completely. I had a period of not having attachment to him, but he is cool, really. The way he keeps the ice cold blood when his long term staff member- heck, when his BROTHER dies? Incredible. Like, he is a very strong person, he is a natural leader that is able to think about BIG things regardless of his emotions (and he doesn't have Spock's privilege of muting them). That's really all there is to him.

- The episode about traveling back in time was DEPRESSING. He met a woman of his dreams - the dreamer, the pacifist, the person way ahead of her time - only to learn that she had to tragically die at young age, without any of her ambitions fulfilled, so the history of humankind unravels the way it did, and doesn't die early. I believe her name is spelled as Edith? It was just really fucking sad. Again, the moral question of sacrificing one (very good!) person to save many. Just... why Kirk had to LEARN this? It just felt sad and cruel.

- The episode where it looked like Kirk was protecting the no balls l00sers, but they turned out to be superior energetic beings trapping humans and Klingons into not fighting genuinely surprised me

Any ways, I can say why the series gained so much love back then. Gonna share my impressions (that only 2 people get) later

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Desert Planet - Leonard McCoy

My Masterlist

McCoy x gender-neutral reader, no usage of y/n 

Hurt/comfort and angst :) 

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Injury, heat exhaustion, mentions of death/reader brings up how they’re not going to make it 

Summary: Reader goes on a mission on an alien planet and gets separated from the others during a terrible storm. 

"Do you know how dangerous these freaks are?" Leonard hissed. 

"I know exactly how dangerous they are. I know what I'm dealing with, I'm on the security team for a reason, for fuck's sake." I shot back.

"I don't care. You're not going." 

"Oh, now you're trying to tell me what to do?" I suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway, whipping my head around and narrowing my eyes at him. 

"It's dangerous and unnecessary." He said in defense. 

"Fine, then. I'll just stay here like I always do! I may as well not even be on this fucking ship!" I growled, stalking off. I pressed the lift button with more force than necessary, glaring at him as the doors slid shut. 

"It's a pretty desert-like planet." Kirk briefed me as we walked down the hall. "Not sure why they even want it." 

"They're using it as some sort of foothold to get to somewhere else, I know that for sure." 

"But where?" He sighed in frustration. Romulans were once again attempting to take control of the unforgiving planet we were about to beam down on. The Enterprise and its crew usually weren't the ones sent to deal with them, but we were the closest currently and, according to Starfleet, the situation was 'dire'. They were crawling all over the planet like ants.

“Is this many people really necessary?” I asked in concern. When we arrived at the transporter, several redshirts were already waiting for us.

The captain nodded grimly. “I have a feeling they’re not going to want to talk.”

“We’ll be beamin’ you down at a secluded place with not much traffic so you can get your bearings.” Scotty told us. I nodded unsurely, stepping onto the teleporter pad with the others. 

I glanced around cautiously as we materialized on the planet’s surface.

“You weren’t kidding.” I snorted. “What could they even use in this place?”

“They detected strong signs of some kind of metal here, not one we’ve seen before, but they obviously have a use for it.”

“And probably not a good one.” I agreed. “What’s the plan, captain?”

“We talk with them.” He shrugged.

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then we blast our way out and call in for back up.” He grinned cheekily. I huffed, turning away and looking around. 

“You’re going to need to be quick.” Sulu’s static voice crackled through the communications. “There’s a storm heading your way, you’ve got an hour, maybe two.” 

“I thought you said it was clear?” Kirk asked into his pin, suddenly serious.

“It was. It appeared out of nowhere. Be careful.” The static turned back into silence.

“Damn. Alright, let’s get going.”

“Shit.” I muttered under my breath, looking to my mapping device. We had ended up ‘blasting our way out’, as Kirk had put it, and we had made it out fine. Not long after we left the area though, we ran into a patrolling group of Romulans. I had managed to get separated from the group during the fight, sustaining a nasty phaser shot to my side and losing any contact with the rest of the crew as the storm rapidly approached. My mapping device did nothing.

I now wandered through what appeared to be a sort of canyon, still glancing at the small screen from time to time in the small hope that it would begin to work again. Eyeing the dark, approaching clouds wearily, I wondered what kind of storms they had here. I had been told this planet had no form of water at all, so what exactly rained from these dark clouds? I didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. 

At least another hour had passed that I had wandered, and with the scorching heat, I grew thirstier and thirstier, sweat pouring down my neck. I stumbled on unsteady feet, most likely a sign of bloodloss. Blood trickled through my fingers as I pressed a hand to my side, leaning heavily against a large rock.  I jumped as a crackle of lightning split the air. 

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself. I stared at the sky a little longer, watching as another bright orange bolt of electricity lit the sky. My gut warned me to get out of this place, and get out now.

“Lieutenant to Enterprise.” I said into my comm. “Lieutenant to Enterprise.” I repeated. Nothing. Not even static.

I jumped when I heard an echoing crack and then the sound of something incredibly, dangerously large shifting. I looked up uncertainly before jumping back, an enormous boulder about three times my size falling right where I had been standing mere seconds ago. My eyes darted around as dozens more fell down into the giant trench I was in. The wind was howling, and it tore at my hair. I froze, my feet rooted to the ground in fear, before taking off at a sprint, running for the nearest cover I could see; even though that was several meters away.

I dodged several boulders, but I was still pelted by small, painful pebbles that were whipped up from the ground by the strong winds. I suddenly stumbled over a small boulder that must have been embedded in the ground for ages. My ankle wedged between the rock and the compacted ground, twisting it with a painful snap. I hit the ground hard, my head colliding violently with a mostly-buried rock and knocking me unconscious.

I awoke to a heavy feeling across my legs. I groaned, shifting my upper half slightly and slumping back into the ground. I struggled to keep from falling unconscious again, my head foggy and pounding. The weight across my legs only grew more and more uncomfortable as I laid there. It didn't take very long for it to become painful; then, agonizing. I shifted my upper half again, turning as much as I could to look at my legs. A strangled sound of horror and agony clawed its way up my throat at what I saw. 

A small, but heavy, boulder rested across the backs of my legs, crushing them. One of my legs had been spared–at least partially-and was only pinned between the boulder and another. I could move it slightly, and it didn't hurt too bad–at least not compared to the other–so I could guess it wasn't quite broken. Fractured, maybe. The wind still howled around me, and small pebbles still rained down, but the crashes and cracks of the gigantic boulders had, fortunately, ceased. 

I let out a quiet whine, struggling to free my leg. I sat up, a sharp pain making me gasp. I looked around bleary-eyed, realizing I was laying in a large pool of my own blood. It stained the sand around me a bright red. Somehow managing to keep upright, I placed my hands against the rock, pushing against it weakly. The pain intensified, and I fell back, panting. I tried again, sitting up and pushing against the boulder with even more force. It shifted ever so slightly, sending a lightning bolt of pain through my left, but giving me the tiniest bit of hope. 

I braced my hands against it again, pushing it with everything I had in me. It rolled off of my leg, causing the bones to shift and a dizzying rush of pain to my head. I fell back, breathing and gasping unevenly and struggling to remain conscious. I groaned, tossing my head back and forth in an attempt to distract myself from the pain. My hands grasped the sand desperately. 

A bolt of lightning followed by a distant crash made my head jerk up. I was suddenly reminded of my situation, the haze slowly clearing from my head. I struggled to scramble to my feet. I cried out as I tried to move my legs. I began to crawl towards a distant cave, my head hazy with agony. A bright crimson trail of my own blood stained the ground behind me, but it was quickly covered by the sand whipped up around my face and into my already dry mouth. 

I gasped in relief when I made it into the shelter of the cave, flopping onto the ground. I was now painfully aware that every inch of my body that hadn't been sheltered by the boulder that crushed my legs, was badly bruised from being pelted by small rocks. I moaned in pain, rolling onto my back and staring up at the red tinted rock above me. My eyes threatened to close, and sweat poured from my burning, throbbing forehead. More of my blood poured down my side and onto the sand. I blearily wondered how much blood I had left in me. Probably not enough. 

My eyes shot open when I heard talkimg coming from outside of the cave. I hastily braced myself on my elbows, listening. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but it wasn't any human language. It was most likely Romulan, I figured. 

A delayed rush of panic coursed through me at the realization, and my breathing quickened. I stayed as silent as I could, hoping they weren't coming in this direction. Luck wasn't on my side. I heard their voices slowly growing louder as they approached. 

I shoved myself back into a further corner of the cave, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle a whimper. I managed to wedge myself behind a large rock, curling into a defensive position. Fear coursed through my veins, but there was little I could do.  It was all I could manage to stay conscious and fight back the growing feeling of nausea. 

I heard their voices grow louder and louder. They were soon standing right in front of the cave, peering in. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled into myself more, trembling. My heart pounded in my ears until it almost drowned out the sound of the aliens' conversation. I listened intently as I heard their footsteps recede and the sound of their voices grow faint. My shallow, uneven breathing didn't even allow me a sigh of relief. 

I wasn't sure how long I laid there, helplessly drifting in and out of consciousness. My entire body felt like it was burning up, but I had stopped sweating long ago. It confused my muddled brain. I was tugged back into consciousness by a faint, broken up voice. I struggled into a sitting position, as my eyes darted around in confusion. I could swear I just heard Jim's voice..

"Lieutenant? Are you there?" The light on my comm device blinked unsteadily.

"Yes. Yes I'm here." I gasped, fumbling with the button. 

"Are you injured?" The captain asked. 

"Yes."

"How bad? Anything serious?"

"I think..my leg is broke. Maybe both, I'm…I'm not sure." I wheezed. I fell back onto my side, the small device flying out of my hand and across the ground. I crawled towards it, small noises of pain escaping my throat. I clutched it in my hand, bringing it back to my face. The entire time, Jim had been speaking, though I hadn't heard a word of it.

"What?" 

"I said it's going to be a while before we can get a lock on your location and beam you up." He repeated.

"How long?" I asked worriedly.

"The storm is still pretty bad," He began to explain.

"No it isn't. It's calm down here now." I argued.

"Maybe down there, but it isn't up here. The storm is too thick for our locators to go through."

"So how long?" 

He hesitated. "It was pretty unpredictable before, you know how quick that storm rolled up on us; it's hard to give an estimate but..6, 7 hours at least. Think you can hold on that long?"

"I don't know." I said quietly. My heart dropped from my chest, and I laid limply on the ground, staring up at the rock above me. The comm fell from my hands, even as Kirk continued to speak. I didn't hear any of it.

All I knew was that I wouldn't be making it off of this planet alive.

And the last time I had spoken to McCoy was in the middle of an argument.

I released a shaky breath, my head light as I was suddenly aware of how hot I had become. My skin burned, and my insides felt like they were on broil. At the very least, the blood of the phaser wound had begun to clot, though my racing heart didn't help. I felt every bruise that littered my body. I spat out the sand in my mouth, even though there wasn't even any saliva in it. I moaned, rolling onto my side, my breathing shallow and uneven. It wasn't long before I slipped into the darkness again. 

My eyes cracked open at the sound of footsteps, rock and gravel crunching beneath them. They were quiet but clumsy, unused to walking on such terrain. The footsteps came closer. I barely had the energy to curl even more into myself and the rock I hid behind, trembling. They stopped right outside of the cave, and I heard the faint noise of metallic equipment. The Romulans were back to finish me off. I took a shaky breath, as my panicked pants caused black dots to appear in my already blurred vision. 

After the pause, the footsteps entered the cave. My breath hitched in my throat, on the verge of panic. I reached weakly for the phaser at my hip, sucking in a gasp of pain at the action. They stopped again, and I heard the metallic sound again before my own locator went off. I shrank back in surprise at the loud sound. Footsteps quickly walked over to the device that lied just on the other side of my rock. I held my breath. 

They quickly rounded the rock I had behind, shoes coming into view. A choked cry escaped my throat and I scrambled back in a panic, unable to make out whether they were friend or foe. My body shook violently as I pressed my back against the cave wall. I blinked rapidly as they crouched beside me, a hand reaching for me. I flinched away, breath hitching in my throat.

I heard a familiar voice utter a string of swears before, "Calm down sweetheart." 

I struggled to make out who it was–and where I had heard that voice before– but my body visibly sagged in relief that they were, at the very least, human. My eyes were still unable to focus, and they must have known that, because he gently cradled my face in his hands and brought his face down to mine.

"Len?" I croaked out. If I would have been able to, I would have tackled him in a hug, but I settled for bringing one of my hands up to weakly grip his. 

"It's me darlin'. I'm here." 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I repeated it over and over. 

"Shhh, don't worry about it. Don't talk." He told me. When he began to pull away, I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, silently begging him to stay. He frowned, releasing my hand and turning to something I couldn't make out.

My eyes had shut involuntarily, but they fluttered open when I heard the familiar beeps and whirring of a tricorder. He glanced at me worriedly. 

"I'm okay." I tiredly reassured him, beginning to drift off again. I was faintly aware of him pulling up the hem of my uniform to gain access to the phaser shot I had sustained. I gasped awake when I felt him put pressure on it. 

"Stop." I gasped, clawing at his hands. His face was pained. "Please." 

The next thing I felt was the cool barrel of a hypospray at my neck, before the pain lessened significantly. I felt his knuckles against my forehead, the frown on his face deepening. He turned away, bringing back another hypo out of his bag. I groaned in protest.

"I know darlin'. This should stop the bleeding and prevent any infection. Then I'll bandage you up." He explained calmly, though his voice was strained. I heard the soft sound of the hypo as he injected the second one. He began to clean the wound, then unwound a roll of bandages. He was gentle and precise as he wound them around my abdomen, keeping them in place with medical tape.

He pulled out a bottle of water, moving beside me and gently propping my head up in his lap. I drank the water down gratefully. He leaned down to brush his nose to mine, once again cradling my face in his hands. Even though my face burned with fever, I leaned into his warm hands contentedly.

He held me this way for a moment, before the faint sound of footsteps disturbed the howling of the wind.

"Shit." I felt him tense, automatically shifting over me protectively. I glanced up at him in confusion before I heard the footsteps, too. I immediately began to struggle in a panic. His arms held onto me tightly.

"Shhh."  He shushed me. his voice barely above a whisper. I stilled, though I trembled against him. His hand gripped mine, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb in an attempt at comforting me. We listened in silence as the footsteps receded, breathing a sigh of relief once they were no longer audible.

"Breathe, sweetheart." He told me. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, my chest ached. He ducked down to speak into his comm.

"McCoy to Enterprise." Static. "McCoy to Enterprise." He repeated, sighing in frustration when there was no response. 

"How are you doing?" He asked me, his voice worried.

"I don't know." I responded hoarsely. "It doesn't hurt anymore but I still feel horrible." 

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I-" His apology was cut short as a voice crackled from his comm.

"Bones?" Jim's voice asked.

"How long before you can beam us up?" Leonard demanded. 

"At least another five hours-"

"Five hours?" He hissed. "Jim-"

"Bones, I know. I'm sorry, I told you we wouldn't be able to get a lock on your location if you-" He turned the comm off with a frustrated huff, cutting the captain off.

"I can't." I mumbled quietly, dread, regret, and a million other things washing over me as my head drooped to the side. 

"You can't what? Hey, hey don't do that. You can't what, darlin'?" His voice cracked at the end.

"I'm not going to make it." I mumbled.

"You will. We'll get you back and fix you right back up." He reassured me, his eyes not meeting mine.

"Len." I croaked, as his fingers went to my neck, checking my pulse. He had to readjust them several times before he felt something. It was faint.

"Leonard." I repeated. He stopped, his frantic gaze meeting mine.

"Stop. Please."

"No, you're going to make it." He argued.

"Just hold me. Please." I begged. I knew I wasn't going to make it long enough to be beamed aboard. This was it for me; but I could think of no better way to die than in his arms

"Don't talk like that." He demanded, but he obliged anyway, reclining back against the uncomfortable cave wall and pulling me against his chest. I was barely awake, but I pressed myself closer to him as his arms settled wrapped around me. I managed a shallow sigh as I relaxed into him, a comforting feeling of safety settling over me. My eyes fluttered shut, and I drifted off.

I moaned in protest at the insistent beeping, burrowing my head into the pillows to muffle it. Death wasn't supposed to be like this. 

My eyes cracked open, the sterile, blinding lights of the medway causing my head to throb. I turned my head to the side when I heard a groan. Leonard was slumped over in a chair next to my bedside. He began to stir, his eyes tiredly flickering open for a second before they widened in surprise. They immediately darted over to the screen that displayed my vitals, before glancing over me. 

"Hi." I mumbled, not sure what to say. He was silent, taking my hand in his and tracing my palm so carefully, as if I would break.

"I'm sorry." I began; now that I was awake and safely back on the Enterprise, he was probably furious with me.

"Don't." He said. "Don't start."

"Sorry." I apologized quietly, pulling my hand away to give him some space. I sucked in a shaky breath before bracing myself on my elbows. The pain was dulled, but still nearly unbearable. I choked back a sob.

He was immediately by my side, a hand on my chest to gently push me down. Sitting on the edge of the biobed, he sighed before starting. "We both have a lot to talk about, but for now, you need to recover. You don't need any more stress." He told me in his doctor voice. I shifted away from him uncomfortably. 

"No, I want to talk about this now. I want you, I don't want this distance. I'm sorry, it was stupid. I told you I wouldn't go, but I did. The least I could have done was tell you." 

"I know I'm too overbearing sometimes." I gave him a skeptical look and he raised his hands in defense. "Believe it or not, I do know."

"I know you worry, but it's my job, just like your job is to deal with deadly diseases sometimes."

"I know, but it's not the same thing." He sighed in frustration. 

"Yeah, at least I can see my enemy." I tried to lighten the mood. He huffed a small laugh.

"I guess that's what I get for dating a redshirt." He said finally, a ghost of a smile on his face as he stood.

"Where are you going?" 

"Nowhere darlin', nowhere."

[fireinmywoods]

Bones isn't always Bones, sometimes Jim calls him by his rank, or Doctor, or even his actual name. Head cannons on when he uses what?

It would be exceedingly rare for Jim to refer to Leonard as Lieutenant Commander. Leonard doesn’t especially identify with his rank, or with the Starfleet hierarchy more generally. He and Jim both associate him more with his position of CMO, so Jim might say my CMO or the Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer to identify Leonard to someone who doesn’t already know him.

Leonard is rare, too. If Jim’s calling him Leonard, it’s usually either in service to some sort of mission - e.g., selling a Kindred-friendly ~*~relationship~*~ on Hearth - or just to mess with him. (Notably, “messing with Bones” is also the motivation for the one time in all of pverse that Jim calls him by his rank. It’s a lucky thing for their marriage that annoyance is one of Leonard’s primary love languages.)

Dr. McCoy is Jim’s default when a situation requires a touch of formality, typically for the sake of an audience: recording his captain’s log, making an introduction, mentioning him to higher-ups, or simply talking with crew members outside their inner circle. (Or, less commonly, when Jim feels the need to put some emotional distance between them in the line of duty - like when Leonard nearly dies disarming the torpedo in ST:ID - but those occasions are increasingly few and far between as the years wear on.)

So in practice, Leonard is usually Dr. McCoy when Jim’s not speaking directly to him, and Bones when he is. Which isn’t to say that the nickname is some hidden private thing. Jim regularly calls him Bones in front of other people - just not to those people. It’s not a secret; it’s just not really for anyone else. It’s a sign of familiarity, a marker of their shared history, an endearment, a claim. It’s theirs. Jim calls Leonard Bones, exclusively; Jim, exclusively, calls Leonard Bones.

And so, when it’s just the two of them, Leonard is pretty much always Bones - to Jim and, if he’s being honest, to Leonard himself.

+

I’ve asserted before that Leonard is the one person on the ship who looks at James T. Kirk and sees Jim first and Captain Kirk a distant second. Unique among the senior crew, he basically never calls Jim Captain or sir. To Leonard, Jim is always Jim, no matter the circumstances. As I said then (lightly edited for formatting):

Yeah, sure, Jim is the captain. The great Captain Kirk, or whatever. But that’s secondary to Leonard. He’s Jim, who happens to be the captain. It’s not the Enterprise’s commanding officer that Leonard worries about when he’s hurt or in danger - it’s Jim, the only family he’s got. It’s not his superior giving him a disagreeable order - it’s his best friend being a real asshole again. This trait makes him hilariously insubordinate, but it also means their relationship is the truest and most genuine Jim has. And for someone who’s spent his whole life trying to be someone else, can you blame a guy for falling for the one person who’s only ever seen him as himself - and somehow still loves him anyway?

What I haven’t addressed in as many words is that this goes both ways. Jim has plenty of close relationships among the crew which go much deeper than Starfleet hierarchy, but when he’s acting as captain, he necessarily meets people on a professional level in their respective roles: his XO, his communications officer, his pilot, his navigator, his chief engineer.

Bones is different. Bones was Bones long before either of them ever stepped foot onto the Enterprise, and that will always outweigh any other role he takes on. It wasn’t Captain Kirk’s CMO who snuck him onto the Enterprise for the first time, who tried to get through to him when he was spiraling after Pike’s death, who threw him a surprise birthday party after so many years of helping him endure the date in private. That was all Bones, and that’s who Jim sees when he looks at him - not his CMO or a Lieutenant Commander, but his best friend, the only person in the universe he trusts unconditionally, and (eventually) the man he loves, his other half, his partner in all things. He may call him something else to other people for any number of reasons, but in his own heart, it’s always Bones he thinks of, turns to, reaches for.

It’s always been Bones.

+

There was a time when Leonard McCoy genuinely believed he wanted Jim to stop calling him Bones. It aggravated him that this pain-in-the-ass kid he barely knew refused to use any configuration of his given name and insisted instead on some nonsensical nickname of his own invention. Did they not have manners in Iowa, or did the cocky little bastard just get all of his knocked out of his head during a bar fight? Either way, it rankled. He liked the kid well enough, but this particular quirk of his was just plain disrespectful.

That time is distant history now, though, and while Jim never has mastered the art of common courtesy, Leonard has long since recognized that it’s pretty far down the list of things he craves from Jim Kirk. To hell with respect. Leonard wants warmth and affection, attachment and devotion, vulnerability and trust. Intimacy. He wants to be the man Jim confides in, the one he’s unabashedly himself with, the one who gets to see him at his most unguarded.

And he is. Bones is.

Leonard is still Leonard in his own mind; he does, after all, exist outside of his relationship with Jim. He may perhaps be unusually obsessed with devoted to his partner, but even so, even within the fishbowl that is life on the Enterprise, he has friendships and associations and rivalries and aspirations and interests, great big swaths of his life where Jim’s influence is minimal at best.

Dr. McCoy is a leader and a pioneer, a curious scientist, a superficially hardass boss with a heart of gold easily exploited by his staff, a long-suffering CMO surrounded by reckless maniacs, a starship officer who has far greater loyalty to his fellow crew than to the abstract concepts of Starfleet or the Federation.

Leonard is a forty-something Georgia boy, a staunch pacifist, an agnostic who sometimes wishes he still believed in his parent’s God, an introvert in a caring profession with an unrivaled compassion for living beings and a decidedly finite reserve of energy for their company.

And Bones? Well, Bones is Jim’s. That’s about all there is to it.

Or, to put it another way:

Dr. McCoy is the Chief Medical Officer who shoots Captain Kirk full of vaccine boosters and warns him against eating any alien fruits while he’s down on Planet Wherever-the-fuck VI.

Leonard is the man who goes about his days keenly feeling Jim’s absence while he’s away, who dislikes how cold and hard-edged the ship feels without her captain’s larger-than-life presence and who doesn’t sleep as well without his husband beside him.

Bones is the partner Jim demands a kiss from when he returns, who feels something settle inside him as Jim’s arms wind around his shoulders, who scolds Jim for his sunburn and rolls his eyes at the kid’s excuses and very carefully strokes his scaly red cheek for a moment under the thin guise of clinical assessment before pulling away to go for a medkit, bitching the whole way, already missing the shape of Jim’s body against his.

[hailbop1701]

Shockingly for Sale

October 12, 2021 (Electrocuted)

Word Count: 3,117

Okay, this one was fun to write. I'm actually quite proud of it and really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much I did writing it. No beta so typos and mistakes will be present!

-H

Masterlist

Leonard McCoy had no idea where he was and how he got there. The last thing he remembers was bitching to Jim about them exploring a freezing wasteland. He was from Georgia, damnit. He wasn't meant for below zero freeze your balls off weather. He just wasn't. They were trudging through the snow, Chekov was spouting another obscure fact about Russia. Whether if it was true was a whole other thing. Being ahead of the group both Jim and the kid were attacked first. Len remembered surprise and a deep hot sensation settling into his bones before there was nothing at all.

Cursing colorfully Leonard looked over at an unconscious Chekov and then at the elaborate cage they were stuck in. He was worried for the boy - the young man- the bloody wound on his head certainly looked worse than it was, but him being unconscious for a long period wasn’t a good thing.

Without looking McCoy placed two expert fingers on the navigator’s neck. He breathed a semi-relieved sigh when he felt a steady heartbeat. Licking his too dry lips, Leonard stood up onto shaky feet. He turned in a slow circle getting a better view of his new surroundings. The cage was like nothing he has seen before. It was almost like a cube, transparent and bulky. It hung in the air like a glorified birdcage.

“Just fucking wonderful,”

Moving toward one of the four clear walls Leonard squinted his eyes and peered out into the darkness that surrounded them. What he saw made him want to throw up. There were hundreds of cube-like cages glittering in the darkness like soul-sucking stars. There were people in all of those cages shouting, screaming, and pounding against the hardened walls with alien fists. Leonard of course couldn’t hear any of it. Each cube must have had some sort of sound dampeners.

Turning his head McCoy quickly moved to the right in hopes to see Jim or Spock. He was in luck. There in the cage next door was Jame’s “There’s no one on this planet” Kirk, waving his arms back and forth and jumping around like a maniac. Spock looked rather unimpressed. As usual. Snorting Leonard shot his best friend a look that said,

‘I can see you, you infant.’

He raised his arms and gestured to his surroundings. Kirk frowned at the obvious question,

‘What in the fuck do we do now?’

The starship Captian gave a huff and placed his hands on his hips. He was talking to Spock who was pretty deep in thought. Unable to hear any of the conversation Leonard decided he couldn’t just sit still and wait; he needed to do something. So he paced. Checked on Chekov, again. And paced some more.

He skidded to a stop when the floor under his feet shifted. His cube was moving. Stumbling slightly Leonard shot a look at his best friend. Jim and Spock were watching with wide-eyed worry. Well, Jim was. Spock was as stoic as ever, but his eyes flashed with concern. Taking a deep breath McCoy kept his balance as the far clear wall of his cube cage shimmered and faded away.

There aiming some pretty ridiculous-looking weaponry at him were the aliens that captured them on that arctic hell of a planet. Glancing down at the still unconscious Pavel, Leonard raised his hands hoping to convey that he wasn’t threatening.

The aliens were humanoid in stature. Standing on two legs, used two of their four arms to aim their version of a phaser rifle at his head. They were imposing creatures. Above six feet and built like brick shit houses. One of them could snap McCoy in half without an issue. But they seemed to be the hired muscle because another figure moved into the cage.

Leonard had to take a minute. His brain not really wrapping around the creature that now stood in front of him. The alien was short and fat. McCoy from his history and knowledge with newly discovered species had to guess that this alien was male. Maybe. You still can never really know until they actually told you. So he mentally stuck with “male” until he was informed otherwise.

Furrowing his brows and cocking his head to the side Leonard McCoy was faced with an honest to got meatball with fur, beady eyes, and a long snout. His legs were short and his arms long; it reminded Leonard of one of Joanna’s drawings. The doctor clamped his mouth shut against any and all forms of sound; laughter, and obscene comments alike.

Leonard backed up a couple of steps. Small obsidian eyes watched McCoy carefully and with extreme interest. Of course, McCoy was no Betazoid but something was not right, he felt the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand on end. Everything in the air around him screamed, “Warning: Danger! Run the fuck away!”

Except he had no place to go.

The meatball shuddered, his fur puffing up as a purring keening sound came from him. He was satisfied with something, and Leonard had a bad feeling that he was the reason.

Turning his head to glance over his shoulder he shouted for his best friend, momentarily forgetting that the starship captain couldn’t hear him.

“Jim!”

The meatball rumbled out an order its voice low as he waved a hand in Leonard’s direction. McCoy’s head snapped back as the two four-armed goons stomped toward him. Backing up further Leonard felt his back hit the wall of the cage behind him. The material was like pure energy and it tingled as he pressed up against it. Goon one, and goon two reached forward grabbing Leonard’s arms roughly. Yelping McCoy stumbled as he was yanked forward.

“Delicate,” the meatball snapped gurgling in irritation. Goon two grunted out a snort in reply but they didn’t ease their grips. Leonard couldn’t get his feet to work as fast as they wanted, so they dragged him along. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The universal translator was having a hard time picking up whatever was being said. So far it had only been able to pick up little things, so Leonard had figure it all out on his own. And he didn’t like what he was hearing one bit. Things like, “pretties”, “Treasure,” “Collar,” and “obedience,” were being thrown around.

When the fuzzy meatball with legs turned and said something to McCoy all the translator could pick up was a series of purrs, grunts, and snorts. Leonard raised an eyebrow at the creature in front of him and shook his head. The alien wasn’t pleased and appeared to be thinking, one long arm lifted and he reached out with his stubby fingers and took McCoy by the chin.

Leonard wanted to jerk away and spit out some insults but the four-armed balls of muscle kept him in place. Mostly by tightening their grips in warning. The alien hummed and nodded in understanding, he knew Leonard couldn’t understand him so he uttered a single sound. And by some strange miracle, the translator picked it up.

“TIQ,”

‘My kidnapper’s name is Tiq. That’s just wonderful. Jesus, I hope Chekov is okay, the kid took one hell of a hit. Maybe if I play nice this asshole will give me medical supplies…’

McCoy’s thoughts were abruptly and rudely interrupted by gravity. The steroid twins let him go. Groaning Leonard pushed himself up off of the hard stone floor so he resting on his knees instead of his face. TIQ gestured for him to get up and move to a patch of light, it was a perfect circle and it made the doctor very nervous. But his hesitation only got him a couple of new bruises.

Stumbling to his feet McCoy entered the circle of light. Turning to face his captors he scowled and crossed his arms in as much defiance as he could muster. TIQ purred, chirped, and clicked and Leonard couldn’t tell if he were happy, amused, or annoyed. The two guards relaxed somewhat and their expressions were so much easier to read, and what Leonard saw he wasn’t encouraged.

McCoy swallowed hard and jumped when two metal arms sprang from the ceiling their claw-like hands spinning and twirling around sounding like the antique drill his grandfather had. Leonard tried to move but he found that he couldn’t. Now he knows why the two goons were watching him with expressions full of amusement.

The circle of light had some sort of paralytic effect. He hypothesized that it was something more psychological than anything else. The clawed hands pinched and snapped as they got closer and closer; and the closer they got the worse Leonard’s breathing became. ‘Calm down you idiot,’ he scolded himself and began to force his heart and breathing under control.

Something cold clasped itself tightly around his neck. A resounding click echoing in his ears reminded him of a lock on a cage being slid home. The circle of light died and he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up anymore. Leonard fell to his knees once more and he had no desire to get back up again.

TIQ and his groupies had other plans apparently. After ignoring the clicks, purs, and snorts McCoy felt a quick jolt of terrible pain. Clutching at the collar around his neck he looked up to see TIQ holding up a sleek-looking remote. Mind numb it took Leonard a moment to realize how much trouble he was truly in. TIQ pressed on the remote again and it left Leonard gasping and shuddering. The second jolt was significantly worse than the last.

Struggling to his feet Leonard swayed dizzily. TIQ seemed much happier when his orders were followed. McCoy bit back the obscenities and nausea that climbed up his throat. He felt hollow as he was dragged back to his cage.

---------oOo----------

Chekov was awake when he was pushed into his clear-cubed cell. The young navigator was sitting up against the far wall, but when saw McCoy he unsteadily scrambled to his feet. “Doctor are you alright?”

Taking a relieved breath Leonard saw that Chekov was collar free and from the looks of things, so were Kirk and Spock. Jim’s eyes were wide with worry, his nose, forehead, and hands were pressed up against the wall of his prison. Spock stood calmly beside him and when McCoy’s gaze fell to him he merely pointed out into the distance, where the other cages hung like displays.

Walking over -- with Chekov right at his shoulder -- Leonard saw what had them all so nervous. A holographic display of him was flickering for all to see and what appeared to be a countdown. He was startled to see that it was an auction. He was being auctioned off like cattle, or perhaps worse. “That’s not good,” he muttered and turned his attention back to Jim and Spock who were staring at him with anger. Jolted Leonard realized they weren’t staring at him but the collar around his neck.

They had no choice but to watch the countdown with trepidation as it neared zero. When it did a bone-rattling boom echoed and shook everything around them. McCoy’s image with the timer shimmered away leaving behind a green symbol. Since it was an auction it must mean, “sold!”

Not nearly enough time later TIQ was back with his two best friends. Glaring, Leonard crossed his arms keeping as far away from the door as possible. TIQ held up the remote threateningly and McCoy responded the only way he knew how; an incredibly rude gesture that seemed to be universal. McCoy was unsurprised when TIQ hit the button, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Falling to his knees, he felt almost detached from his body. His hands curled and uncurled, he kept his teeth clenched in an effort to keep from biting his tongue clean off. He heard the muffled worried shouts of Chekov and felt himself being dragged from the room. His entire body tingled uncomfortably, twitching here and there.

Yelping Leonard suddenly hit the ground, painfully colliding with the rough grating of a ship’s ramp. Groggily he looked up but he couldn’t see much, everything blurred and bled together. Another long painful jolt rocked through him and McCoy couldn’t keep from screaming out. This jolt lasted much longer than the others, and Leonard saw it for what it was. A final warning. Obey or pay the price.

McCoy didn’t even realize that the collar stopped shocking him when he was forced up so he was on his knees. His muscles spasmed painfully and he’s fairly sure -- much to his extreme embarrassment -- his bladder had let go. Blinking away dark spots and shapes McCoy put on his best glare and scowl. His new “Owner” -- an Orion male -- sauntered over to him with a smile on his lips. Crouching down the man looked into his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. “He’s perfect. And a doctor you said?” he asked looking over his shoulder back at TIQ who just fluffed and chirped in confirmation.

The man looked down at a PADD in his hand the smirk never leaving his lips. “Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. Lieutenant Commander and CMO of the USS Enterprise,” he murmured reading the profile his captures must have put together. The Orion tapped at the PADD for a second and gave a mock pout,

“As much as I would have loved the complete set...you were expensive enough as it was doctor. You may call me sir, or Thalin”

Leonard’s scowl darkened his feelings on the matter clear. The Orion man chuckled and gently patted his stubbled cheek. “Not to worry Doctor you will be well taken care of,”

“Can I give you some advice?” McCoy asked through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving the man. TIQ raised the remote to give Leonard another zap but was stopped by a raised hand. Thalin cocked his head in amusement,

“I’m curious,” he murmured. Taking a deep breath McCoy looked the man who bought him dead in the eye,

“Son, you’re gonna regret your life choices. One of the things yeh don’t ever want to do is cross the crew of the Enterprise, and you’ve pissed off its captain and first officer. And most importantly you’ve pissed me the fuck off. So my advice Thalin is to run.”

Thalin snorted and burst into laughter which prompted the others to join in. Leonard chuckled darkly and shook his head, his gaze fell to the floor before he raised it again. Thalin had taken the remote from TIQ still chortling and snickering like he had been told the funniest thing in the universe. He fiddled with the remote for a moment and sighed contently,

“Thank you doctor but I’ll take my chances,” he said before his smile turned malicious. ‘Dumbass,’ Leonard thought a second before the unbearable pain hit. He had really hoped that he placed his money on the right bet. By the way things seemed to work around here either Jim or Spock would be next. Leonard banked on Spock because no matter the species they would always save the best for last. And Spock wouldn’t allow himself to be collared as Leonard had. McCoy just hoped Spock could hear him scream. It was the best --and quickest-- way to find him after all.

Had it worked or was he just as fucked as before? Leonard couldn’t even tell how much time had passed.

He knew he was screaming himself hoarse but for a moment he could almost hear another. A roar and shouted curses that would have made a cross quadrant trucker blush. The pain stopped but lingered in his bones and joints. He opened his eyes a fraction hissing as his muscles spasmed, the air was thick and he couldn’t breathe. His throat was closing.

A hand rested on his shoulder a heavily accented voice shouting at him to “Stay awake Doctor!” running footsteps echoed in his head painfully like a stampede of spooked horses. He didn’t mind because he knew that mouth breathing from anywhere.

“Took ya’ll long enough,” he choked out gasping. The collar was quickly broken and tossed away with a clatter.

“...get...Enterprise….Chekov…..ride?”

Jim’s voice was fading in and out but Leonard could only assume that the kid was making a plan to get the hell out and get back to the Enterprise. Mostly so they could come back and free everyone who had been taken. That would be a Jim thing to do, Leonard mused numbly.

To him, it didn’t feel like time had passed at all. For all, he knew he was still on the ground with Jim and Spock hovering over him and Chekov nervously bouncing around the transport they must have taken. He could feel vibrations of a ship beneath him, a feeling he once hated but now took comfort in.

It wasn’t until minutes -- hours? Days? -- later that he realized that he was back home. In sickbay with the soft familiar chirps, beeps, and the lemony disinfectant smell that he liked. As his senses came back to him Leonard heard more and more. His staff bustling quietly, -- though muffled. Must be in a private room his drugged tired mind supplied -- his heart monitor beeping steadily, the sound of softly murmured conversation nearby. Someone was visiting.

Through the fog, Leonard tried to figure out who it was but they just seemed too far away. He felt heavy again. Simply being aware and thinking had cost Leonard all of his energy and he began to slip back down into the dark. But he didn’t want to go, some things in the dark haunted him. Made him want to never sleep again, maybe then the constant nightmares would stop.

Someone took his hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance and warmth, “Yer alright laddie. You’re home safe, Jim just popped out to catch some sleep.” It was Scotty. Scotty was his visitor. Another hand landed on his shoulder giving it a squeeze,

“Someone will be here when you wake up. It’s okay we got you,” McCoy had to wrack his brain for a moment before a name floated by him. Sulu. Scotty and Sulu were watching over him. It was both surprising and unsurprising, they were his friends, he knew that. But he didn’t expect them to sit by his bed. Maybe it was because he always woke up with Jim or Spock there. He should have known everyone would take shifts to watch over him.

Leonard internally smiled as he lazily drifted back into oblivion. He’ll be alright.

Tags:

Everything: @lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908

WhumpTober: @theatrevicki

*Quick Note: I know most of you are all like "Why did Len wake up to Scotty and Sulu?" Well...here's the answer! It's a little inside joke with myself and I guess whoever does Bones whump. He ALWAYS wakes up to Jim and Spock and I wanted to be a rebel. 🤣

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 19: 2x11 Friday’s Child

Finally watched this week’s TOS. This was a hard day again and I’m tired and basically as soon as the ep ended my mood deflated again but I think I can write up a few notes and then crawl right back into bed again.

Another episode about negotiating for a mining treaty, huh? (I’m keeping track of all of these, roughly, for my own Nefarious Purposes).

The aliens are seven feet tall and they wear silly outfits.

Wow, what a dumbass red shirt. You’d think Starfleet would train people NOT to just randomly draw their weapons in diplomatic situations.

I honestly forgot there were Klingons in this.

DC Fontana wrote this!! I forgot that too.

Lol Kirk just drops the deceased red shirt. And then keeps holding his hands out like ‘what am I to do now?’

“They want to negotiate for our rocks. Our stupid, useless rocks. Everyone wants our rocks! So weird.”

I’m actually kind of surprised DC Fontana wrote a Klingon ep but like... I guess it’s not that surprising given this guy doesn’t even have a name and is also really dumb lol. At least he’s not in brownface.

When Kirk and Spock disarmed I didn’t realize they were throwing down their communicators and I was a little confused as to why they had to carry so many phasers each.

Kirk’s pretty upset about the crewman’s death, which I get, he always goes feral when one of his people dies and I appreciate that about him... but that guy really did fuck up lol.

I like seeing Scotty in command.

Oooh mood lighting in the tent. And Spock is meditating I think.

Emotion is “inefficient and illogical.” No wonder Kirk thinks they can never be in love!!

And yet jealous is also inefficient and illogical and I detect some of it in Spock when the blonde Cappellan comes in.

“They consider combat more pleasurable than love.” Hmm sounds like someone else I know.

... Honestly I wish the Grounders had been like this. I feel like there’s more thought in creating this society in one episode than in creating that one over 7 seasons.

I love Bones in this and his role as cultural translator.

The Federation believes in self-determination.

“The sky does not interest me.”

I really do dig the world building here. There’s so much going on in this one ep, even just in part of an ep, and you really get the sense that this is a whole world with its own rules and customs and values, and its own complex political machinations that our mains have really just wandered into.

Also the soundtrack today is NOT messing around. TV composers just don’t go this hard anymore, sorry.

Oooh now the Klingon’s afraid at the prospect of fighting Kirk.

The Enterprise just walked into a coup I guess.

Lots of fighting! Kirk must be having fun.

Scotty is so commanding! I feel like he and Uhura were already friends at this point. Like whenever he’s in command she seems really comfortable just wandering up to his chair all the time.

Also why are they ALWAYS signing stuff?

Yessss silent triumvirate communication.

“To live is always desirable.” I mean she’s not wrong but so much for being willing to die without a fuss lol.

It’s kind of wild how this ep started out being about a mining treaty and drama with the Klingons and all of this alien political drama and then basically becomes all about saving one (1) pregnant widow (and themselves) from huge, ,hostile aliens in funny feather boas.

Sulu insulting Scotty’s knowledge of ships lol. Not smart.

Can’t believe the Klingon couldn’t get his weapon back but Kirk got his communicators back no problem. Who is the smarter alien?

They’ll find us BY SCENT ALONE what a detail to just throw in there!

Lol this whole scene with McCoy and Eleen is hilarious and ridiculous in equal measure. Like I can’t entirely blame her for not wanting to be touched intimately by a strange alien man (rude!!) but also I do enjoy McCoy’s gruff insistence that he WILL care for his patient. This is what AOs didn’t get about “Grumpy Bones.” He’s not mean, he’s just...not up for niceties when he has a healing to do. He WILL care for you dammit!

And he has soft hands.

Spock is loving this.

Kirk’s subtle reverse psychology. “Well if you don’t think the communicator plan can work” and then Spock like “I didn’t say that exactly...”

They aren’t human, they’re humanoid!

And again, the subtle taunting/goading of Bones: “Well if you can’t do it...”

I’m a doctor, not an escalator! One of the best lines.

Detective Scotty. Kind of ridiculous how he solves the case of the taunting Klingons luring them away from the planet...but then sticks around a bit more just in case.

The child is McCoy’s!

Spock is so uncomfortable with this giving birth thing. “Oh look Captain, vegetation!”

“Just repeat ‘The child is mine.’“ “Yes, the child is yours.” Lol.

Arts and crafts with Kirk and Spock! I love that this is a McCoy ep with subtle space husbands in the background.

Favorite moment though is McCoy trying to teach Spock how to hold a baby. “I would rather not, thank you.”

“Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on...won’t get fooled again.”

I love that Chekov is consciously messing with them about everything being from Russia.

Also the absolute GALL of the Klingons trying the exact same ship luring technique a second time.

Can’t believe that Bones wants to go off and have fun with the boys and just leave the baby alone in the cave. You’re a dad now McCoy!! Be responsible!

“Small patient.” Yes very small!

Cool little robot battle station unfolding at the helm.

I feel like when Kirk and Spock have that exchange about cavalry coming over the hill and Spock says "if by that you mean..." Kirk should have answered, "I thought I just said that." But then that wouldn't be very Kirk of him. He never makes fun of Spock.

This Klingon is not having a good day!

Scotty and the redshirts here to save the day.

I guess Maab wasn’t so bad after all. And Elaan is perhaps a little confusing, but I admire her desire to both save herself and adhere to her people’s traditions, even if those are incompatible desires.

Spock absolutely IS going to consult linguistics about baby talk. Probably Uhura specifically.

LEONARD JAMES AKAAR. Absolutely one of the top 5 final bridge scenes. They really missed an opportunity to return to the planet in a later movie or series and interact with the Teer.Captain Picard meets Leonard James Akaar.

This was a good ep! I really only remembered the Bones and Elaan parts with the baby, so I forgot all of the political machinations and stuff in the beginning of the ep. It’s a pretty solid world building episode and of course, lots of McCoy, can’t go wrong with that.

I actually think it makes a lot of sense for Bones to be the child’s “father” tbh. Like, I know everyone thinks it’s funny but like... in our culture, we assign pseudo-parental roles to people who aren’t blood relatives of children based on the adult’s relationship with the child’s blood relative and that’s arguably weirder. Like you can be a kid’s step father by marrying his mom even if you really don’t have any relationship to him, so why shouldn’t McCoy, who saved Leonard’s mother’s life and delivered him, and convinced her to actually desire to raise him, be considered his “father”? ESP given that this society seems to have no place at all for fatherless children. They just can’t conceive of such a thing. So “father” has to encompass something other than, or not strictly limited to, biological father. She was so quick to assign McCoy fatherhood status, I have to assume this happens a lot, that people take on that role for non-bio children.

Not a lot for Spock to do today but I think he had fun. He got to explode some rocks and make some bows and shoot some arrows. And Kirk got into a lot of fights so I think he enjoyed himself.

I don’t know if I believed the Cappellans were 7 feet tall but they did look broad and alien so I will give them that.

It was nice to see Scotty in command again. I’m so mad at AOS still for making him comic relief. I think he’s actually quite a serious person. Talking with my mom, I’ve decided that the crew can be grouped into ‘cracks jokes through a crisis’ and ‘generally gets very serious in a crisis, reserves humor for calm moments’ and while Sulu, Chekov, and Spock are in group 1, Scotty is definitely in group 2 with Kirk and McCoy. (Uhura seems generally lighthearted and fun loving but not funny per se so I don’t know how to group her.)

Also this is one of the early filmed Chekov episodes (as you can see by the hair) and he spends it, again, at Spock’s station. It’s so obvious he was introduced as Spock’s protege, not as the navigator, which I think is very interesting. Like I want to hear the backstory on that.

Next week’s episode is The Deadly Years, which I remember as being very solid.

[kribban]

Trektober Day 12: Atonement, McCoy/Chekov, G

Leonard ground his teeth together. ”I wouldn't have had to disturb your precious pet project if I had been able to find my goddamn PADD in the mess you left.”

In front of him, Pasha very valiantly fought the urge to roll his eyes. ”Oh please, like you are so neat and orderly, Doctor. And it is not my fault you slept poorly – I didn't ask you to wait up for me.”

”I was worried!” Leonard snapped and there was a soft sound of distress that had the two of them turn their heads.

”Honored Federation guests,” their host began meekly, looking stricken. ”You are invited to apologize for your own transgressions, not to accuse each other of wrongdoing.” There was a brief note of panic in his voice as though it was suddenly dawning on him that humans might not be as civilized as his people had thought. Leonard inwardly cursed and forced himself to think about Jim, about the mission, about how fucking annoying Pasha could be when he wouldn't admit to being in the wrong...

”Well, I apologize for caring about the state of our quarters and about you, when it's clear you don't appreciate it,” he continued.

Pasha breathed in sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. ”I had laid the parts out in a precise and logical pattern. A pattern that you thoroughly destroyed, thereby making my work useless.” He opened his eyes only to glare at Leonard. ”Then, to further compound my distress, you retroactively ruined my night out with your complaining when I returned.”

”Retroactively? I retroactively ruined your night? Oh, give me a break!”

”The what?” Jim had barely raised an eyebrow. Five years of strange alien rituals had made him – had made all of them – a little jaded. As long as there wouldn't be any violence or weird sex stuff involved, he was game for making his Officers do almost anything.

”The Feast of Spousal Atonement,” Ilkum Kah had said and bowed her head in deference. ”Where spouses apologize for the wrongdoings they have committed over the previous year and vow to do better in the coming year. It is a sacred opportunity to better ourselves as-”

”Take them,” Jim said and waved dismissively in Leonard and Pasha's direction. ”It shouldn't take any time at all with these lovebirds.”  

”Did it ever occur to you that going alone and unarmed to a civilian club on one of the most notorious space stations in the Quadrant might not have been such a bright idea?” Leonard had felt a bit guilty over his attempts to talk his husband out of going. He knew that five months without disembarking had been rough on Pasha, that he'd needed to blow off some steam.

Still, Leonard had slept anxiously with the ring signal on his comm set to the loudest volume. Pasha had stumbled in at five am, drunk as hell, and Leonard had been so relieved to see him that he had almost held back on his lecture. But then Pasha had discovered that his engine parts had been moved around and promptly decided to spend the rest of the night on the couch.  

”You could have come with me, but you didn't want to!” Pasha yelled and threw his arms out in frustration. ”Just because you want to spend shore leave locked away in solitude doesn't mean I should have to!”

With a panicked motion, the attendant reached for the small bell and started ringing it. ”Honored guests,” he began, sounding close to tears. ”We will not reach Atonement here, and your negative energy is disturbing the other participants.” He rose from the pillow he'd been sitting on and waved his arm forcefully. ”You must leave immediately!”

Pasha looked stunned and Leonard probably had a similar expression on his face as they followed their host through the long corridor. They passed countless doors on their way out and hushed voices were heard through the thin walls. Behind each door was a repentant couple, Leonard thought, apologizing for the mistakes they had made. It wasn't lost on him that he and Pasha hadn't even made it ten minutes without arguing.

When they finally emerged on the open square, their host waved to get the attention of his superior who was talking to Jim a few feet away. ”Yours is the worst case of discord I have ever seen. I recommend that you dissolve your union immediately,” he said sharply and hurried off.

With a look of surprise, Jim threw his arms out in a gesture that obviously meant  What the hell did you guys do? and jogged over to the two aliens who were now speaking in hushed tones.

”Where did you find your PADD?” Pasha asked quietly after a while.

”On top of my dresser,” Leonard admitted. Where he had left it. ”Will it take you a long time to sort the engine parts again?”

Pasha shook his head. ”Only a few minutes. It is not difficult at all.” He turned his body a little so that he was almost, but not quite, facing Leonard. ”I have been treating our quarters as though I am the only person living there. It's a bad habit of mine, I know that.”

Since Leonard's quarters had been the biggest, it had made sense for them to live there, and Leonard had told Pasha to make himself at home. That's just what Pasha had done, too.

”You're a much better combatant than I am,” Leonard continued. ”I know you can take care of yourself, and you shouldn't have to put up with me worrying about you. I'm sorry I ruined your night out.”

”I had a fantastic time. You could not have ruined it if you tried,” Pasha said with a sigh and moved in close enough to wrap his arm around Leonard's waist.

Jim was arguing frantically with the aliens now and though Leonard felt guilty, he was happy he wasn't in Jim's position. He tugged on Pasha's shoulder.

”I want to spend more time with you. We hardly get to see each other during the day, and I miss you. That's part of why I didn't want you to go out.”

”I miss you too, Leo. In thirteen days, we both have a day off,” Pasha said resolutely. ”We will plan something to do then.”

”It's a deal,” Leonard said, just as Jim turned and started walking towards them. ”All right, time to face the music.”

”You handled that well, huh?” Jim said with a grin as he came up to them. ”Don't worry, I smoothed things over. Looks like you two have, as well.” He winked.

Pasha coughed and immediately took half a step away, always wanting to conduct himself properly while on duty.

Leonard was well past the point of being embarrassed by public displays of affection, and he was relieved that they hadn't made an unsalvageable diplomatic faux-pax. ”Jim, what the hell did you say?”  

”Oh, I told them the two of you had strengthened your union with a sacred Earth ritual,” Jim said, sounding amused. ”A fight.”

[twinklysmiles]

How (Not) to Tickle Your Boyfriend (McCoy’s POV)

Star Trek Tickle Fic

Fandom: Star Trek TOS / AOS Characters: Leonard Bones McCoy, Christine Chapel Warnings: Tickling, Smut, Fluff Word Count: 2,782

Summary: McCoy and Chapel’s guide to a fulfilled (ticklish) relationship and life with a shared kink.  Or: The one where McCoy, unsurprisingly, is still insanely ticklish, and Chapel knows exactly how to make the most of that fact. (McCoy’s POV)

To find out how they got themselves there, you might want to read these first: A Ticklish Predicament - McCoy’s POV A Ticklish Predicament - Chapel’s POV    A Shared Kink - Chapel’s POV      

McCoy was, once again, lying on the biobed, watching Chapel prepare for ‘tickly times’ as she called them, perfectly aware of how much just hearing the t-word affected him. She was laying out ‘tools’ like brushes and spinning or vibrating medical equipment, and the ticklish CMO was filled with a mixture of dread and excitement at what he knew was coming.

The reasons keeping the doctor from bolting, his body already tingling and twitching in ticklish anticipation, was a) the knowledge that Christine was always careful of his limits, b) the certainty that his feet were off limits, c) that indescribable moment when unbearable torture turned into unbridled, deliciously liberating ecstasy, d) the unbelievable pleasures of the most satisfying, incredible sex that always followed his nearly unendurable ordeal, and e) his restraints.

While Chapel was busy getting everything ready, McCoy’s mind wandered back to how it had all begun. How she’d found him tied to the biobed by an alien, and while trying to untie him had accidentally found out about his excruciating ticklishness. How she hadn’t been able to resist testing his body for tickle spots, how immensely turned on she’d been by his embarrassing weakness, and how immensely turned on he had been by her exploiting it.

When they’d finally acknowledged their attraction to each other, as well as the tickle kink neither of them had known they had until then, Chapel had proceeded to tease him about his extreme ticklishness, getting him and herself even more aroused by a few more vicious tickle attacks, the ghost of her tickling fingertips still unbearably real on his skin while she’d been stroking his member to full attention with a pleasantly strong and firm grip.

And just when he’d thought he might die from all different kinds of sensory overload, she’d straddled his hips, and it had felt so awfully good to rub himself against the fabric of her uniform panties, soaking wet from her arousal. Then she’d accidentally dropped her hitched up uniform skirt, and for a minute his belly had got it so bad that he’d thought he was actually going to die. That dress was simply evil, the feathery light scratching of the material just unbearable, which was why Christine loved – and he hated her – to wear her uniform for ‘tickly times’. But when she’d started grinding against his cock in earnest, the tickling, the stroking, the rubbing, the whole combination of everything, had brought him, and her, to an unsurpassed orgasm.

Not to speak of the way their ‘first encounter’ had ended in his quarters after she’d finally untied him. That had been completely out of this world. And not least because she hadn’t tickled him once, not even inadvertently. After having been so dominant for the whole time in sickbay, Christine had completely given herself to him in his quarters, totally surrendering to his ministrations, letting him tease and edge her as long as he wanted to. And needed to in order to ‘get his revenge’ and level out the balance of power between them.

Without words, and he wouldn’t have been able to find the right ones anyway, she’d understood what he needed, what they both needed for this to work. And doing everything in her power to avoid any ticklish accidents, she’d allowed him to actually relax and enjoy. And he had enjoyed. God almighty, had he enjoyed. More than he’d ever have thought possible. It had certainly been the hottest, most fulfilling sex he’d ever had, and the beginning of the most beautiful, loving relationship he’d ever known.

Chapel had taken all her clothes and jewellery off, so that no hidden hemlines, chains, frills, or fringe would graze his ticklish body. She’d neatly done her hair up, carefully checking there were no stray hairs sticking out or hanging down. Then she’d taken his hand, gently guiding it towards her womanhood to let his fingers test if she was smooth enough down there, surprising him by seeming to think of everything that might possibly tickle him before he had to ask or tell her.

Being as full of compassion and empathy as he’d always imagined her to be, Christine had really understood the extent of his ticklishness from the beginning, and, unlike Jocelyn, had tried to prevent any surprise tickles instead of planning to exploit his weakness even more.

"I’ve shaved only this morning, but, of course, I didn’t know how important it would prove later in the day," she’d chuckled, gazing at him lovingly, then added in a low whisper close to his ear, "Wouldn’t want you to break down laughing your head off, when you’re supposed to fuck me silly."

McCoy’s breath caught in his chest at hearing his favourite nurse talk dirty, even as a shiver ran down his spine, remembering how his ex-wife had once made him suffer endlessly, tricking him into the probably most excruciating belly tickling he’d ever been subjected to.

Ordering the lights out before she’d taken off her panties, Jocelyn had assured him of being perfectly shaved, then had straddled him, lowering herself onto his hard, erect cock, until he’d felt the devilish stubble of pubic hair diabolically assaulting his unsuspecting belly, making him cry out with overwhelming ticklishness, magnified by the total unexpectedness of the fiendish attack, and rendering him weak and defenceless within seconds.

He’d always thought it was a cruel joke of nature that a woman’s pubic hair during intercourse would not just simply tickle his belly, but target his absolutely worst spots there to boot. A fact that Jocelyn had been perfectly aware of, and had decided to cruelly exploit for her evil amusement. She’d gone on riding him for the longest time, seeming to get more aroused the more intense his agony and accompanying shrieks, pleas and uncontrollable laughter became, his total helplessness feeding her greed for power over him, while his frantic thrashing and bucking stimulated her bodily desires.

The whole ordeal had seemed to go on forever, Jocelyn riding herself to orgasm after orgasm, her eyes shining with pleasure at his predicament, while her pubic hair was killing him, tormenting his belly relentlessly, until his body and mind couldn’t take any more and he’d blacked out. That had been the last time he’d had sex with Jocelyn, and she’d filed for divorce shortly after.

But Jocelyn had always been particularly sadistic regarding his weakness, taking every chance to tickle him beyond his limits and delighting in his harrowing ticklishness and the power that gave her over him. Unlike Chapel, though, she’d hated it in the bedroom, annoyed by the things that it caused to be off limits during sex, some of which he couldn’t even bring himself to do to her, because even the thought was unbearable for him. Like sucking her toes or blowing raspberries on her belly.

Christine, sweet, loving Christine, however, was the exact opposite. Devious as she could be during ‘tickly times’, she did everything to avoid tickling him at all other times. And while she was always looking for – and finding – new tickle spots on his body, testing what tickle tools and techniques to use on them to the best effect, she also lovingly memorised all of the ‘safe spots’ she found in the process for later use.

She never tickled him in front of others, she’d never embarrass him like that. In fact, she’d become quite protective of him, McCoy thought with a fond grin. Like shielding him when she saw him raising his arms to get something from a high shelf. It was sweet, really, since, obviously, he had survived all these years without being tickled to death while taking something off a shelf.

Come to think of it, she never tickled him at all outside of ‘tickly times’ in their quarters, or, occasionally, the private examination room, when they were in the mood for some role play. Like right now. Although Christine still found it wildly entertaining that the serious and feared CMO of the Enterprise was so insanely ticklish, and couldn’t fully grasp – no one could – how acutely harrowing being tickled was for him, she had accepted that he found it to be torture, and only tickled him with his consent. Basically, whenever they had sex.

No surprise tickles, no sneaking up on him from behind or when he was asleep, unless, sometimes, as foreplay. McCoy couldn’t remember ever being this relaxed in a relationship. Able to put his feet up on the couch, even without shoes or at least socks on, and generally unconcerned about leaving any tickle spots unprotected around her, fully trusting her not to take advantage. He couldn’t even begin to describe how comfortable and liberating it was not having to watch his back – or, in his case, any other vulnerable body parts, too – all the time.

Over time, Chapel had even managed to give him pleasant massages. Ones that he could actually enjoy and relax into, something he’d never even dreamed about before. Although limited to his back for the time being. All other parts of his body still wouldn’t be able to take it. Christine had soon discovered that there was not a single spot on his body that wasn’t ticklish to light, feathery touches. But she’d been adamant to keep trying, convinced she’d be able to give him pleasure instead of torturing him with massages, and dedicating many a ‘tickly time’ to this ‘experiment’.

It had taken some time and quite a lot of - horrendously ticklish - practice, but with the right amount of pressure, carefully avoiding all his tickle spots or getting too close to his sides, neck or underarms, she’d finally developed the right technique, and could now coax actual moans of pleasure instead of shrieking laughter out of him with her back rubs. Just like she could by smoothing out his hair and scratching his scalp, probably the one thing the doctor could unconcernedly enjoy in the world of physical touch, and which Chapel was happy to do for hours, grateful for any way to give him some real physical pleasure.

She was really something else, his Christine. And although McCoy sometimes wondered how he made it through ‘tickly times’ at all – it was certainly tickle hell, even though Chapel was always extremely careful of his limits, stopping the moment his laughter went silent – the sex with her afterwards was mind-blowing. And completely, reassuringly free of tickling.

It was when she put all her knowledge about his ‘safe spots’ to good use. Like biting and nibbling his nipples, which made him crazy with desire, or kissing down the line from his chest to his groin, careful to stay exactly in the middle and not touch any of his torturous spots further to the sides of his stomach or belly. And only with her hair up, of course. The devastation she could cause, and did during ‘tickly times’, just with her hair hanging loose, was indescribable.

Getting him off with her hands and mouth was sort of borderline, her fingers touching his balls almost unbearable, her tongue licking his slit and circling his crown absolutely lethal. But coming into her mouth was simply sensational, definitely worth a few ticklish jolts. As long as she didn’t keep nibbling or sucking afterwards, of course, but she’d quickly learned not to do that after tickling him half to death after her first blowjob. Unfortunately, with his sensitivity heightened to the extreme after his orgasm, her continuing ministrations had instantly reduced him to silent laughter, rendering him unable to get a word out, and it had taken several excruciating moments for her to realise that what she was doing was killing him.

Regarding all the ‘tools’ Christine kept lining up with undeniable trepidation, McCoy wondered what she had in store for him today. After all, she’d only yesterday jokingly complained that she thought he was getting more relaxed, and therefore less ticklish during ‘tickly times’, and he was sure she’d try to find ways to make up for that. Although she’d also told him that, despite feeling a little sorry that his decreasing sensitivity was taking away from her fun, she might enjoy compensating for that by being able to tickle him longer. Maybe even long enough for her to cum just from tickling him, an idea she’d been really excited about.

At first, they’d wanted to combine the tickling with the sex. McCoy had tried to get her off with his hands while she was tickling him, but they’d quickly given up on that again. Firstly, he had no control whatsoever over his otherwise so nimble fingers when being tickled, and secondly, he was unable to take the tickling for even a second, unless forced to bear it by restraints. In the end, they’d compromised, Christine tickling him with one hand while getting herself off with the other, making him go crazy with desire watching her masturbate through his own peals of laughter.

They’d got into a routine of tickling first, and sex afterwards. Although Christine usually came several times by her own fingers during ‘tickly times’, sometimes even jacking him off, too, when she saw that watching her pleasuring herself had aroused him enough despite all the tickling, and thereby giving him the most intense orgasms imaginable, tickling him relentlessly until moments before he shot his load. It was pure agony and unparalleled bliss.

Every time McCoy watched her climax, he was fascinated by how much tickling him turned her on. But he wasn’t far behind, he thought. Being so completely at her mercy while fully trusting her to stop before it killed him, was incredibly liberating. This total loss of control while knowing that she was taking great care not to push him past his limits, a wonderful sense of safety. And more arousing than he’d ever imagined possible.

He loved doing it in sickbay, where he could scream out his ticklishness in the soundproof examination room. But having to keep quiet in his or her quarters, pressing his face into the pillow when he was on his stomach, or having to be gagged when he was on his back, was a great turn-on too. Because there was absolutely no way he could keep his hysterical screams and laughter down once Chapel started to attack his worst spots.

True to her word, she’d never touched his feet again, understanding that this would definitely push him over the edge. Although with him getting a little more used to her touch every day, she was convinced he’d let her try again some time. And maybe he would, but surely not for a long time yet. Christine made him, however, tell her stories about past experiences of tickle torture on his feet, and he loved to touch her, play with her, and make her cum, almost shooting his own load, too, while he talked about that.

Tickle talk had definitely become as much of a turn-on for the doctor as dirty talk. Another fact that Chapel had instantly noticed and used to her advantage, mercilessly teasing him about his ticklishness and wickedly commenting on everything she did to him, thus making the tickling a million times worse. But much as her teasing bothered him, seeming to render him even more ticklish, he knew that he could easily retaliate, tickle-talk never failing to helplessly arouse her.

McCoy sometimes even teased her when others were around, whispering little reminders of how ticklish he was, or a quick hint at one of the ticklish experiences he’d told her about, in her ear as he casually walked past her, knowing exactly how terribly horny she’d instantly get. He couldn't help it, seeing her blush, her hips twitching, her breath catching, was just too adorable. Even though he knew his teasing would certainly lead to extra fiendish punishment the next time they were alone and Chapel could lay her tickle-skilled hands on him.

All of the doctor’s thoughts and musings were brought to an abrupt end, when Christine, having finished her preparations, clawed at this heinously ticklish spot at the top of his ribs to get his attention, almost making him jump out of his skin.

Today, she explained, she wanted to try a new position, straddling his face, so that he could lick and pleasure her core, or at least laugh and jerk into it, while she’d mercilessly tickle his belly, ribs, and sides, trying out all the tools she’d just laid out beside the biobed. McCoy got hard just hearing Christine say this, and couldn't wait to be sucked into tickle hell once again, eager to find out if this was going to be as deliciously excruciating as it sounded.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing of Star Trek

[myheartmightexplode]

Tarsus iv

Summary

Big, black holographic letters before a plain white wall. A name seared into his memory like a fresh burn scar that itched, stung and roared when touched, followed by the most bullshitty question he had ever heard, in neat, 20 % transparent letters:

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

Anyone who has ever been in a class, has usually met that one guy.

'That one guy' is the guy who, without fail, doesn't arrive a second before he has to. And after a week or so of finding the barely-in-time arrival annoying, you just get used to it, and stop paying it attention altogether.

Therefore, no student really cared when one infamous James T. Kirk deftly slid into the auditorium to the beep of an attendance card and the hiss of the doors sealing shut behind him. This was also why his best friend, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, didn't have to follow his eye roll up with any kind of comment; as Interspecies Ethics 241 approached its end, any snide comments he could come up with had all been said once or twice before.

Neither he, nor Spock - a vulcan exchange student that decided to stay behind on Earth after his semester was up, and also the only of Jim's bedroom encounters with aliens that stayed tangled in the sheets - started when blonde hair and a cheerful grin climbed not as much as leaned over the two back rows of the auditorium and shoved them apart, to press an out-of-breath kiss to green-tinged lips.

"C'mon, Bones, move over."

Bones let out a snort. "If you wanna sit with the cool kids, you gotta be on time." Jim opened his mouth to complain, but was cut off with a sharp, "it's full, Jim! Go sit in the back."

Respect and discipline was two values which Starfleet Academy held highly, so when the guest lecturer started speaking, Jim merely gave his friend an ugly look and struggled himself into the back row, splitting up a couple of friends.

He hadn't unpacked his bag or sunk into his not-nearly-cushioned-enough-but-apparently-ergonomic seat before the lecturer announced the theme of his lecture, and in the same breath, captured Jim's attention like no teacher could ever hope to do.

Big, black holographic letters before a plain white wall. A name seared into his memory like a fresh burn scar that itched, stung and roared when touched, followed by the most bullshitty question he had ever heard, in neat, 20 % transparent letters:

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

He stood, and gestured for the girl next to him to stand. When she didn't react, merely cast a look at him that asked him how stupid he was or what he was on, he grit his teeth and shoved past her, probably painfully crashing into knees and stepping on toes and backpacks on the way, but with a numbing anger, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Affronted, their teacher rose from her seat next to the controls to the holo, hissing an accusing "Cadet!" as the door next to her opened with the internal override.

Not turning away from the lecturer, who busily continued as if nothing had happened, Bones scoffed at the vague shape in the corner of his eye of a fellow student flipping the bird on their way out. Some people just had to make a scene.

When the class ended, Bones turned to see that Jim had run ahead of them, which, though uncharacteristic of him, wasn't surprising. Bones knew better than to expect Jim to act a certain way; the guy always ended up doing the exact opposite. Whether it was because he liked to fuck with people's heads, or it was just in his nature to be unpredictable, Bones had yet to find out.

Spock didn't talk a lot unless prompted to do so by Jim, so the walk to the absolutely packed cantina was a silent one. Traveling through Monday morning hallways was a game of pinball with not-quite-awake latecomers and last minute crammers reading up on whatever subject their test would be on, which meant that securing a table was a privilege of the students quick to exit class. Neither Spock nor Bones rushed needlessly, so the discovery that Jim had secured a table for the three of them was a welcome one.

How Jim had already acquired lunch as well, though, was a bit of a mystery. That Bones got an avoidance rather than an answer when he asked as much was even more of one.

"Sorry. Just had to run ahead," he answered, attempting to fit half a sandwich in his mouth and not chewing thoroughly before gulping the chunk down in a manner similar to a bird of prey in a hurry. "I skipped breakfast this morning, so I was— I'm—" Jim cut himself off with an odd expression in favor of shoving more food into his oral cavity.

Bones stared expectantly. "Starving, Jim. You can say it if you try hard enough," he teased. Spock, as per usual, misunderstood him, and saw his chance to demonstrate his knowledge to his inferior human companions.

"Indeed, it is not a word considered 'taboo' amongst humans, especially since a famine has not occurred since late 21st century, due to advanced—"

"The fuck it hasn't. Just because Vulcan and Earth has a limitless food supply, it doesn't mean that the rest of the universe is as lucky."

Spock didn't appear offended, but something about his face made it clear that he didn't appreciate much being interrupted and belittled in the same sentence. Leonard assumed that his own face was just as expressive.

"'The hell, Jim? We're talking about Earth, not the rest of the universe. What crawled up your ass and died?" He would probably be amused that Jim had managed to eat half his lunch with an impressive three bites, but was a bit too busy feeling secondhand offense from Spock when all Jim saw fit to answer with was a scoff. "Don't get all touchy over Tarsus IV. 'S only a week long subject."

Spock suppressed an instinctual wince as James' metal chair scraped over the stone floor, creating a noise that cut painfully into his ears.

"I forgot my PADD in the classroom," he stated, abandoning his lunch as he collected his jacket and bag, throwing over his shoulder as he went: "See you in Nonverbal Communication."

Spock had, and suspected McCoy had as well, seen his beloved store away his PADD in his bag as they were approaching his acquired table, and therefore immediately revealed the statement to be invalid. What reason Jim would have to make the untruthful statement, however, Spock didn't know. He decided to voice as much. "I am struggling to understand the human tendency of 'lying white.'"

"White lies, Spock. It's 'white lies.'" Bones was torn between wanting to laugh at the vulcan, and buy him an educational book on FSE expressions, but thoughts of Jim distracted him. He sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The day after, Jim was wholly absent from class. Spock would easily admit that he did not understand this sudden behavior of James'. While his 'boyfriend' might certainly not be the most logical of humans, he could always be trusted to do his very best in every situation, and always 'come out on top.' While often absentminded, always listening. While perpetually late, never did he skip class. Unless he was not feeling well?

Jim had taken up the habit of always calling Spock sometime between 23:48 and 00.07 every evening, which meant they had half an hour for talking before Spock begun his meditation. Their nightly conversations were illogical, as they rarely had anything of importance to discuss that could not be discussed at another more favorable time, but most nights, they provided Spock with a sense of calm, which aided him in his meditation later, and he felt himself growing fond of them in a way that surely was not vulcan.

There had been no such call the previous night, and as Jim always was the one to start the conversations, Spock had taken this as a need for privacy, and refrained from calling Jim himself.

Now that the classroom doors sealed shut, preventing latecomers from disturbing the rest of the class, Spock was left unsettled. McCoy, beside him in the same seats as the previous day, looked around the room, restlessly.

Seeming not to find what he was searching for, he settled down with notes from the previous lesson in front of him. "Probably slept in," he mumbled, as the lecturer started speaking.

Unsure of how to put words to his 'gut feelings,' Spock kept quiet.

Tarsus IV was an uncomfortable topic, and also one of the reasons that Bones wasn't all that fond of the big, black, star spangled silence up there. After all, Earth was a very safe place to live, with everything you needed at least somewhere nearby, and a lot of safety nets if something should go wrong. Serving on a star ship, or at a base somewhere on a barren planet several lightyears away from civilization, you had no safety nets. Limited supplies and death in all directions.

And still, the only place he truly belonged.

Even if Tarsus IV reminded him just where he was going and how bad an idea it really was, he kept a straight face and his fingers steady when they broke up in groups for discussions, listened to witness descriptions and took notes during the lengthy lecture on theories and controversies on and around the still touchy subject. The lecturer treated the whole topic tastefully, theorizing rather then concluding, which was a rare find, as most people seeking to comment on the incident either were theorists who painted it as a cruel massacre and wholeheartedly believed Starfleet to be behind the whole thing and Kodos still alive, or professors who had found proof that everything had gone to plan, and no innocent life had been stolen.

Bones did find the guest lecturer interesting, but not half as much as Spock, it seemed. He had attempted to mock the vulcan for it, but black eyes had turned to him sharply, and merely stated that "the conflict between logic and ethics is extremely fascinating, and Dr. Durmeg seems to have conducted thorough research, with valuable findings that may be the most relevant information pertaining to the discussion of Tarsus IV ethics." Sometimes Bones wondered why he bothered.

The walk towards the lunch hall was less obstructed on a late tuesday, and for once, Spock elected to talk during the whole walk. Bones didn't know if the vulcan brain allowed vulcans to process more information at one time than the human brain did, or if it was just Spock, but the young man had come up with some 'extremely fascinating' theories that had Bones wondering if he shouldn't be right up there beside the lecturer.

He wasn't done talking when he reached the table that Jim - mysteriously - had captured a second day in a row. Gracefully sliding down into the chair opposite his boyfriend, Spock busied himself with his brought, vegetarian, lunch.

"It is most unfortunate that you missed this class," he said as he released the smell of a vulcan salad from its container. It seemed to smell pleasing to him, but Bones felt mildly nauseated by the odor. Unaware of his friend's discomfort, Spock elaborated: "The Dr. Durmeg expressed interesting and valuable viewpoints on the Tarsus IV crisis."

Jim's vague hum seemed to confirm the statement, and discourage rather than encourage an elaboration, but the tone was either lost on or ignored by Spock.

"Indeed, he made some quite convincing arguments that Kodos' action were entirely justifiable—"

"Nothing about Kodos is justifiable."

Spock seemed to consider the statement for a second, tilting his head. "Had you attended class—"

"We're through."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jim stood, locking his PADD and putting it away. "We're over, Spock."

And in the next second, Jim was gone.

Spock tried, futilely, to grab onto a sensible thought that would explain these actions. He turned to McCoy.

"I am not entirely sure that I understand the full meaning of this particular human—"

"He…" Bones narrowed his eyes at the hallway where Jim had disappeared. "He just broke up with you."

He hadn’t slept for days, hunger gnawing at his insides as if his body could eat itself inside out and survive that way, dull teeth scraping at his nerve endings as he felt as if he had a black hole inside of him that was pulling at him, rendering him immobile and whimpering.

Tara had fallen to her death, slipped somewhere she should’ve been safe but wasn’t because she was sluggish and blinded by the gnawing, and Yvonne had fallen asleep, but not woken up the next morning or the one after, and now they were down to ten, ten almost- and just-barely teenagers, nine who should’ve been safe in their beds maybe even with their parents by their sides if they were lucky and hadn’t decided to throw away the fact that they were so blessed as to be chosen for the sake of saving one single blind passenger, save him for nothing because now they were all going to die, all alone and hopeless, now that the darkness came and stole him away, as he passed out because he was too hungry and too cold and too hurting to fall asleep but his body couldn’t take anymore and—

Jim didn’t awake with screams and moans anymore, mainly because the nightmares didn’t plague him any longer, but also because they weren’t as much nightmares as bad memories, and if there was one thing Jim didn’t do, it was linger on the past. However, the experiences left him shaking, cold and with a wave of nausea washing over him as he stretched out under the sheets, just to feel the soft cotton all around him, just to forget the sensation of wet, dirty, sandy clothes clinging to his body.

The room was completely dark, but the window let in a slight shimmer of blue light that caressed his desk, the spines of the books in the book shelf, the night stand and the empty right side of the bed. With a shaking breath, he reached for his cell phone, ignoring the glaring numbers of the display in favor of thumbing through his programmed contacts, not trusting his voice to carry the voice commands correctly.

It wasn’t until his thumb rested over the name so dear to him, that he realized what he had actually done not too many hours previous.

Releasing the device with a sigh, he curled back up under the cold sheets, staring at the insides of his eyelids. Spock wouldn’t be mad, Spock would probably understand and brush it away as emotional human behavior, and act as if nothing had happened, but the sudden realization that he had broken up with Spock left him inexplicably shaken, to the core, and feeling alone and very small and like he didn’t belong.

If he didn’t cry himself to sleep, it wasn’t because the black hole in his chest didn’t hurt.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you worried before."

The observation wasn't anything but that: An observation. Interestingly enough, seeing as almost every reference McCoy made to his behavior came in the form of an insulting attempt to, presumably, elicit an emotional response.

In the same fashion, Spock voiced his observations on Jim's behavior, and the questions it had raised within him.

" I don't delude myself as to think I have gotten him pinned down, but as I've for a while studied Jim's behavioral nature, this sudden 'breaking up' seems to me unmotivated and uncharacteristically not thought through. Additionally, I have come to the conclusion that this could be related to the current lecture subject and our discussions of it, which leaves me 'puzzled.'"

Leonard cringed visibly from the strange, if not audibly painful mixture of informal and formal federation standard english. "Keep working on your colloquial english, Spock. Anyway, would've thought vulcans didn't worry."

Spock opened his mouth, to answer one remark or the other, Bones assumed, but was interrupted by the lecturer's arrival. He thought he might've caught a glimmer of disappointment in those expressionless eyes as Spock sat down next to him, swiftly entering vulcan notes into his PADD ("quite logically, seeing as the experience would not only ensure easier and more correct recalling of the lesson, while simultaneously provide exercise in FSE to GV translation.")

The belated beep of the attendance card distracted him, though, and he turned in his seat to face his romantic partner - his boyfriend - who again had arrived barely on time, his appearance speaking of an insufficient amount of sleep. Beautiful blue eyes sought his, and Jim sent him a tight smile.

When Spock returned his smile (or what he hoped came across as one) with a slight nod and warm eyes, Jim could finally breathe out, and try a happier expression. He sunk into an end seat in the back, and drew out his PADD.

He didn't particularly want to be there, but then again, he didn't particularly want to be single any longer than he had to, (although he was pretty sure Spock had no idea what "we're through" meant anyways.) So he tuned out everything else, and started drafting up an explanation that wouldn't set off Spock's internal lie-detector, or leave anything for his vulcan curiosity to latch onto.

An hour passed by without making itself known as Jim debated family problems, insomnia, existential crisis, hell, even male PMS, and he had a good thousand words worth of half-assed stories when he became aware of the silence. Not break-silence with co-student chattering, not lecture-silence with the lecturer mumbling to himself during stops in his presentation, not note-taking silence with tap-tap-tapping on PADDs. Just silence.

Worrying that he might have been asked a question he wouldn't have the faintest idea of an answer to, he drew a breath, and looked up.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't the gazes of a hundred and fifty six students, one guest lecturer and one teacher simultaneously directed at him.

He sent a look at Spock and Bones, fully intending to have them explain what was going on via eye contact, but the sad, pitying? look on Bones' face, and Spock's suddenly calculating eyes made him wary.

Turning his eyes to the front of the auditorium, his mouth went dry, and the black hole returned.

Spock returned his eyes to the hologram that had put a stop to the lesson.

Younger, thinner, paler, more haunted, hair dirtied by dust or dirt and with barely discernible tear tracks burrowing their way down a blank face, stood his boyfriend by a rescue shuttle, the Platon, the first shuttle to touch down on Tarsus IV after the Kodos incident.

The hologram was highly pixelated and taken from a low angle, and this, along with the folds of clothing that obscured the motive, suggested that a compact device had been used in secrecy, to obtain the picture. Had anyone seen it be taken, the photographer would likely be reprimanded, and the picture deleted. It should have been deleted, even if it was not discovered while it was being shot. Wouldn't there be witness protection? Wouldn't someone be hired to ensure that any picture of such nature was deleted from—

Opening classroom doors spurred him from his somewhat hysterical inner debate, and before he really was aware of his actions, he had packed up and went out the door, chasing Jim's hastily retreating back.

Leonard, on the other hand, was rooted by the sudden revelation, and didn't retrieve control of his limbs until the doors swished shut behind Spock.

Swearing under his breath, he, too, rose from his seat. Every step he made towards the door and every number on the override code felt incredibly awkward and loud in the silent room, but awkwardness wasn't really what was on his mind at the moment.

Sinking down into a corner of the fire evacuation staircase, Jim didn't really feel much. There was the insane, pressing pain in his chest and burning in his eyes, and maybe he twisted his ankle on the way here, but it felt as if his mind was just a floating mass, incapable of holding a thought, resulting in a buzz, like a wrongly configured communicator. He became aware of an arm snaking around his shoulders, uncharacteristic of Spock, and a warm hand massaging his shoulder, very characteristic of Bones, and maybe it relieved the pain a bit, or maybe it didn't.

He let out a puff of laughter. "I drafted like…" He did a headcount. "Fourteen different lies to tell you."

Spock needed no further explanation. He cocked his head "I think the appropriate expression is: 'Truth will out.'"

Jim neither corrected or laughed at the erroneous use of the saying, and instead snorted out a quick "maybe."

Leonard ground his teeth, rubbing his best friend's shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing manner, while he tried to sort out his thoughts before his mouth could spew something that went unchecked by his brain. 'I'm sorry' were the most pressing words, but they were lame, and Jim would probably appreciate them as much as he appreciated a fucking hologram that confirmed him as one of the nine Tarsus IV survivors being stretched out over the holoscreen in front of a whole class of starfleet cadets.

It wasn't very surprising that Jim was the first one to speak, because there wasn't a whole lot to say. The words surprised all of them though. Including Jim himself.

"I wasn't supposed to be on Tarsus IV," he confessed, grabbing a random thought out of his head and pulling it out of his mouth. And when he started talking, everything else came detached, easily:

"I snuck onto a ship to get over there. I was just so sick of Frank and Winona and Iowa that I figured I'd go somewhere they couldn't get to me. Somewhere they couldn't just… Go act all worried in front of the police and get them to haul my ass back into the house when I wanted to be alone."

He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision again, and dared a glance up at the two best people in the world. They radiated endless patience and comfort, and something that the black hole didn't take, blossomed in his chest.

"Uh… I was in eight or ninth grade, and there was this summer camp, or school, I guess, over at Tarsus IV. An advanced academical course for kids and language courses for parents and guardians, and everyone would live in really cramped houses. I was bored out of my mind with regular school, so I really wanted to go, but Winona wouldn't take me, and hell would freeze over before I took Frank, and I obviously couldn't go alone, so I snuck aboard the ship."

The three of them were all sitting down now, and even if he leaned a little heavily into the arm that was still slung awkwardly around his shoulders (he appreciated the gesture too much to shake it off, even if it felt strange,) it felt like they were just hanging out, talking about whatever crossed their mind. Even now that there was only really one thing on their minds.

"I hid in the room of my classmates on the ship over, and hacked into their databases while they were still unprotected to put my name into the class. I still had to hide in Thomas' closet when we got to Tarsus, though, because I couldn't figure out a way to assign myself some sort of housing, but you know. It just became a kid's game. Hiding from the parents, unless I wanted to be sent back home. Class was challenging, but that's what I went there for, so I had a really great time.

"I guess you know what happened next." He shrugged. "Food went bad, communication lines went down and Kodos decided it was time to play god. Fuck, he had like, a screen to relay public announcements on, and at first, we thought it was really funny in a very pretentious way, but…"

Jim didn't realize he was crying until a salty tear ran down into his mouth, and when the taste hit his tongue, his throat started tightening up. "Just, seeing a huge face of some guy who you really, really trusted before, because he was the fucking governor of the colony, saying that you and you and you have to kindly go die…

"This guy in my class, Kevin Riley, his parents were on the dead list. What kind of monster kills the parents of a kid, and expects the kid to go on fine?

"…When they rounded up the people who were going to die because their 'existence represented a threat to the well-being of society,' it was kind of obvious that he favored kids over adults. I have no idea what he was trying to do. Build his own society, I guess. I think he just wanted to see what he could make us do.

"Anyway, they made all the people on the dead-list gather together, and people were holding onto each other and kids were trying to get through the energy field when they managed to separate all of them. And then, in one second, they were all there, and in the next, everybody had just disappeared. Not a trace there'd been anyone there. I guess we were all in shock, because no one started screaming or anything, and I was just thinking that I was really lucky that I wasn't on the living-list, because it meant I'd sure as hell not be put on the death-list."

Jim chucked darkly. "God, I'd just thought the thought, and the moment after, the peace keeping forces, peace keeping, yeah right, they point their phaser rifles at us, and Kodos isn't looking nice anymore, and he just says that 'there are some blind passenger on Tarsus IV,' and my blood just froze. I was sure they knew who I was and where I was, and I had no idea what to do. He started saying something about how even one more person alive would mean 'slow death to the more valued members of society,' and we kids just panicked. I don't know how many of us there were, but someone pulled me along, and half my class started running for anywhere else. I can't even remember where we hid, I just remember trying so hard not to get caught.

"We had to hide away for one and a half weeks. They fed the 'valued members of society' in a closed area, and no one got to bring any food out, so we tried to find food elsewhere, but it just wasn't ever enough, and god, I thought a day without food was bad, but that was just hell. Freddie from our class gave up after a while and ran to Kodos' soldiers to get some food, but I don't know what Kodos told them, that they had to obey him or something unless he'd kill them, maybe, but they just took him somewhere, and he never came back.

"We hid around the housing area for another half week and I thought we were going to die that one day, but suddenly, someone got the communication back up working, and they signaled starfleet to come and rescue us, and I guess Kodos heard about that, because the soldiers just started firing away at everybody, so we just, we ran away as far as possible from any building we could see, so we hid in some unfinished buildings, and Tara fell off the top of the building and died, and Yvonne and Mark just stopped waking up after a couple of days of hiding."

Suddenly, his words came like a rush, as if he couldn't get them away from him, out of him, fast enough. They tasted like poison on his tongue.

"They found us, two soldiers, or three I guess, and they fired at random into the building, so we found some crates to hide in and under and behind, but Linn wasn't fast enough and she disappeared, and Thomas was just barely, by a hair fast enough to only get half his face blown away when we ducked. We hid away for three hours just holding our breath and not making noises, and then we had to take off our t-shirts to press them against Thomas' face so he wouldn't bleed to death. I have no idea why we didn't just let him bleed out, because it was just naïve and stupid to think that anyone would come to our rescue after all that time, but they did, they did, and…"

He doubled over with a choked sob, and both Spock and Bones were there to catch him, embrace him, rub at him and warm up his shaking, inexplicably cold body.

"I don't know why I'm crying," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm over this. I left it behind. It's so, so long ago."

"Bullshit," mumbled Bones right back. "You'd have to be made outta titanium to just leave behind something like this."

"Sharing worries and 'venting emotions' seem to be an effective way of dealing with such problems, Jim. There is no shame in attempting to relieve your pain."

He shook his head. "Four people died because of me. Possibly five."

Warm lips pressed to his temple. "And I grieve with thee, Jim, but--"

The warmth in his chest was back, and the black hole felt as if it had lost it's strength. Even as he untangled himself from the unbelievably emotional display, he felt comforted. He smiled, mainly to himself. "No one's ever told me that before."

"'Bout time we did, then." Bones stood, and offered a hand, which Jim took.

"Let's get to lunch," he said, patting his friends' backs decisively. "Let's count the stares I get when we get to the cafeteria."

Bones thought Spock looked vaguely amused, and saved the visual for future reference. However: "Your face is all red and puffed, by the way."

Jim started rubbing furiously at his face, which probably wouldn't help at all. "Shut up, Bones. Your face is red and puffy. What happened to 'you did a great job, Jim?'"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychologist. I've dashed out enough comfort today," he snorted. "Time to get you to act more like Jim always-arriving-late Kirk and less like a wuss."

"Hey, I don't always arrive late."

"Yeah, you really do, actually. You're gonna be late for your own funeral, someday."

"You're like the worst friend ever. Spock, tell Bones that he's the worst friend ever."

"As I have not yet befriended every person 'ever,' as you say, I cannot ascertain that he is the worst friend ever."

"Spock, you're the worst boyfriend ever."

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at the accusation, tuning out the inevitable jab at Jim's 'taste in men' that Bones was very likely to make. Instead, it seemed impossible to tear his eyes away from the wide grin that spoke warmly of the human trait of getting through anything anyone 'threw their way.'

[antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx]

Mouse’s Reclist (#1/?)

Okay, it is time. Time to get working on the incredibly frustrating (but rewarding) task of putting together a fic reclist (the EDM one is next). No, none of my own are going to be on here, I literally know antis would accuse me of doing that for clout. If you want my own fics, DM me :). They probably suck, most of them are really self-indulgent, and I have an update schedule that embodies the slow feeling of trying to download free porn from a dial-up connection in 1997. And your mother is picking up the phone when you’re at the last megabyte and makes you start over. Or something.

I’m going to put a hotlink on the title and probably the author, if that’ll work super easy in a format transfer. Then I’ll post the fandom, pairing, and fic summary in italics, and uh, possibly a small review with some warnings. Keep in mind I can’t be as thorough as the authors themselves, if they’ve chosen to tag at all, because while I do reread these often, I can’t remember every exact trigger. Some of these are fluffy, and some of these are FUCKED UP. Capital F, capital U. Let’s get started. Not organised by fandom or by alphabetical order or by length because my ADHD just says “ONTO THE NEXT LINK GOGOGOGOGOGO” every five seconds. Google docs,,,, stop yelling at my grammar and let me do this thing. There should be about 30 or so under the cut. (Maybe I’ll do more?)

Obviously the first is Three Missing Girls in Madison, Wisconsin by lapsi. This is the Mindhunter Bill/Holden rec that I posted, like, four days ago, and what inspired me to post my own little oneshot drabble. You can check for that in my recs tag for a more detailed description. Let’s just say it’s fucking gorgeous. Everything by lapsi is gorgeous.

Revalations by Anonymous - MCU/Starker/WIP - “I still don’t get it,” Ned says. “How you just... keep being ordinary in spite of all the craziness you’ve lived through. You were in space. You helped Iron Man save the universe. And nobody knows it was you.” His tone softens, becomes almost sad. As though he realizes that what he’s saying is so completely alien to him that he will never be able to understand this part of Peter’s life. “Peter, don’t you want people to know you for who you are?”//An AU where they get the Gauntlet off of Thanos that first time, on Titan. - This is a sort of supremely fucked up but also absolutely beautiful Starker fic with aged up!Peter. By, like, three years, and he’s still essentially Tony’s sugar baby, but whatever. It’s literally an absolute amazing ride.

the spaces between the stars by indigostohelit - Generation Kill/Bradnate - Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick of the USS Devil Dog is returning to Earth with the weight of the world on his shoulders: his captain is incompetent, his crew is half in mutiny, and the mission to a distant star may have been more of a failure than anyone could have comprehended. But on the journey back, something in the ship goes terribly wrong—and Nate may have to bear far more than the weight of the world if he's going to keep his men safe. - Okay, what fandom ancients still remember Generation Kill? Warnings in and of itself for just the general nature of camaraderie on that show. I’m usually a Bradray sucker (remind me to get to those next time), but this was fucking fantastic. Sci-fi mystery AU is my absolute FAVOURITE genre, hands down, all time, ever. And indigo has written a veritable basketload of my fav fics besides, so I can always trust in them.

All of Astolat’s MegOp fic - Transformers/MegOp - ‘Nuff said. She’s the founder of the goddamn site. You’re damn straight I’m going to fawn over her fic. Also it’s fucking good, founding the site aside. I cried. I cried so fucking much. I dripped tears like a sponge.

The White Road by perverse_idyll - Harry Potter/Snarry - One day, comfortably set up in the afterlife, Lily Evans Potter switches on the telly and gets hooked on the Harry Potter show. - Okay, first, this is the only time I’ve literally ever seen one-sided Snily where Lily was the one pining. Anyway, the summary explains the premise, but doesn’t do it justice. Lily watches down on the many possible universes that contain her son’s future from a comfy spot in the afterlife. The relationship between literally everyone in the fic and Severus is… exquisitely-detailed and heart-wrenchingly painful. I’d die for this fic, so I could read a million versions of it in the afterlife.

Rapture by mia_ugly - Harry Potter/Snarry - Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday. - I fucking bawled my eyes out the first time I read this. And the second. And the third. Dumbledore gives Harry a time-travelling watch for his birthday. A watch that travels to a young Severus, who Harry gets to know. On a pretense, of course. And then he falls in love with him. They both do. It’s absolutely agonising angst, but it has a happy ending. It will fucking pack a punch though, so get the tissues ready. This one is perhaps my favourite Snarry fic of all time. Period. Please don’t pass it up. The writing is so fucking amazingly-crafted. I would sell my soul to write like this.

Shell Game by forthegreatergood - DCU/Superbat - Batman wants Superman. Superman wants Batman. Eventually they'll get it sorted out. - An absolutely spot-on identity porn fic. As cheesy as the summary sounds, this fic hits hard. And it has sex pollen. Who can resist sex pollen? Pun intended, maybe.

Every Superbat fic by Susiecarter. - DCU/Superbat - Susie is a friend of mine (fucking,,, don’t know how I managed that one, apparently I write good enough fic for them to read,,, astonishing), and one of Superbat fandom’s greatest contributors. One of DCEU fandom’s greatest contributors, in fact. Everything they’ve written is a masterpiece. But the ultimate fav? as to which may be the true. Hands down. IDENTITY PORN GALORE.

The Long Hangover by CoffioCake - DCU/Superbat - Clark knows he should take a break: His powers are on the fritz, he feels like shit, and Batman’s treating him like a liability. But Gotham's villains seem to have it in for Metropolis' Big Blue Boy Scout and Clark won't just wait around for answers. Batman might be the world’s greatest detective, but Clark Kent is one of the Daily Planet’s most tenacious reporters.//This is definitely a job for Superman. - Okay, I can’t promise another Superbat won’t show up on this list. I’m a sucker for it. I’m also a sucker for case fic. Which is this. It’s so good. So good.

No Glory (and everything else in the HP fandom) by ObsidianPen - Harry Potter/Tomarry/WIP - The Dark Lord divines what Harry Potter is in the Forbidden Forest, and revelations lead to incomprehensible consequences. Lord Voldemort has won... and the dystopia is damning.//A tale of a fallen hero, dark desires, and a Dark Lord's obsession with something he has lost and finds himself unwillingly lusting after: a soul. - This is a Voldemort wins!AU. A fucking delicious one. If only my own Tomarry could aspire, by god. The imagery in this is so vivid I could swear it was painted on my eyelids. The concept of soul magic and interpretations on Horcruxes is unique and perfectly-executed. Honestly, everything Obsidian has ever written for HP is perfectly-executed. I would probably consider this the definitive Tomarry/Harrymort fic. Seriously.

It Cages a Demon by TripleX_Tyrant - Rick & Morty/C137cest/WIP - When Rick captures a powerful being from a demonic dimension - a demon with the ability to devour thoughts - Morty's consciousness is pulled into the demon's cage. Rick must go in after him before Morty's consciousness is completely consumed. But this isn't what the inside of the cage should look like. And if Rick wants to save Morty, he'll have to survive in a place where paths are unclear and monsters manifest.//Rick knew his own mind was complex. But he wasn't ready for this. - A goddamn Silent Hill-style horror mystery AU??????? FOR RICKMORTY? Yep, you heard me. And every second of it is liquid gold. It’s also gory as all fuck and pants-shittingly terrifying at times, so read at your own risk. But if you can risk it, please do. It’s honestly the best execution of C137cest I’ve seen outside of Harmon’s own damn writing lmao.

The Book of Secrets by Are - Downton Abbey/Thommy - With a war of words and wills, Jimmy Kent and Thomas Barrow embark on a strange romance. Set Post Christmas Special. - Thommy is another rare-ish (now, post-2016) pairing that I would die for. And everything Are has ever written for the pairing could kill me and I would thank it. But TBS is the best. Jimmy finds Thomas’ diary (and poetry book), which was also the diary (and sketchbook) of Courtenay before his passing, and learns more about his past and his innermost thoughts. It’s the most haunting, heartbreaking, poignant fic in the pairing. It ends well, but the journey you’ll take from the first chapter is one I would pay money to experience for the first time again. I literally couldn’t even breathe for a while after this. Lapsi’s fic has the same effect, so if you’ve worked through that one by now, be prepared.

Mad Man by griseldajane - MCU/Thorki - In all the years they spent together, it never occurred to Loki that there might be a time when Thor would not be available to him. The god of mischief conceals himself, coming and going as he pleases, doing what he wants.//That Thor might one day do the same never crossed his mind. - All the mindfuckery a Convinced-You-Were-in-an-Insane-Asylum-the-Whole-Time!fic entails and more. If you have issues with dissociating from reality, this is probably a bit much, because it absolutely nails everything about derealisation, delusional thinking, and paranoia. GOD, if you’re willing to let your mind take that battering, though, it’s a damn work of art.

Switch by Ceres_Libera - Star Trek/McKirk - The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.//A Starfleet Academy story, set in the ST:XI universe. - The ultimate McKirk fic imho. We’ll get to my ultimate Spirk fic in a second. Please do read this. It’s everything you could want out of an Academy!fic. Especially a roommates/UST!fic. 

Black Mirror by DarthNickels - Star Wars/Gen - The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history. - What, you think I don’t read Gen? I read Gen!!!! Look at all this Gen I read. Put simply, Dad!Vader redemption arc set in the Rebels era. FUCKING,,, what more could I ask for,,, literally. What more?????????? Sci-fi mystery??? ASKING FOR MORE WHOMMMMMST’VE????

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 - Star Trek/Spirk - Stranded on the planet Sigma Nox while searching for a missing away team, Spock and Kirk find themselves pitted against a disturbing native life form. With the captain out of commission on a regular basis and Spock struggling to preserve his stoicism, staying alive is difficult enough – but when a slim chance for escape surfaces, their resolve is truly put to the test. Together they must fight for survival in the heart of an alien jungle, and in the process, uncover the mystery of the planet’s past. Slow build K/S. - Here’s that aforementioned ultimate Spirk fic. Okay, what, it’s sci-fi mystery again. Give me a break. You just heard how much I would absolutely die for it. Seriously, there is no Spirk fic I adore more than this. I mean, I adore an absolute shittonne of Spirk fics, but this one is my raison d’etre.

In Good Company by weialala - Naruto/Sasunaru - This will sound a little ridiculous, no matter how Sasuke phrases it. I see dead people is embarrassingly tacky, and I'm half-spirit seems like something Sakura might say when she's stoned sky high. So he settles for a shrug. - Sasuke sees dead people. Sasuke bonds with the goddamn fae. Kuchiyose no Jutsu taken to the fucking max. An epic that does what The Last pretty much couldn’t. Shippuden who???

The Boy Who Died A Lot by starcrossedgirl - Harry Potter/Snarry - Harry’s always been known as The Boy Who Lived. Only Severus knows that this is a lie. (Or: a portrait of Severus Snape, in seven acts.) - Oh, there’s Snarry again. Bite me. This is my second (third? Tied with the White Road?) favourite Snarry fic. Time travel, almost Groundhog Day style. Severus has to go back and fix every mistake Harry makes that leads to his untimely death throughout the seven books. I honestly could believe this is what really happened, and we just don’t know otherwise because Rowling hasn’t deigned to make this shit up and put a woke spin on it yet.

Kisses Cursed by The_Fictionist - Harry Potter/Tomarry - Fairytale AU. Loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast.//Some said he was once a man, cursed, and some that he sold his soul to demons and became one in turn. Others said that such evil as he could never have been human. That he was instead a nightmare, left lingering upon the earth a very long time ago.//Harry just knew it wasn't safe to walk near the Riddle House after dark. - Not just a fairytale AU, but a MYSTERY(!!!!) fairytale!AU. Okay, who’s gotten that I love mystery by now? This one is amazing, no matter how many puzzle pieces have slotted into place. The ride is a wild one and a great one. My second favourite Tomarry fic. I’d rank more of The_Fictionist’s higher, but they’ve deleted a lot of their old stuff, despite me absolutely adoring it.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices & radialarch - MCU/Stucky - The Associated Press @AP//Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE - Both an epistolary/media fic and a case fic? Sign me tf up. Came out mere seconds (I exaggerate a little) after TWS, which I instantly fell in love with in theatres (still my fav MCU movie, folks). Details what a trial would be like for James Buchanan Barnes, should the MCU function more like real life, all in newspaper/tweet/blog form. Best way I’ve seen epistolary!fic formatted, tbh. Only on the AO3, huh?

The Mirror by cloudyjenn - Supernatural/Destiel - When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something. - I love dimension hopping. And it’s for my first ever hardcore fandom (besides Pokemon), too! I usually see dimension hopping more in sci-fi and superhero fandoms, so it was nice to see it in fantasy, too. A million alternate dimensions where Dean and Cas are in love. It’s definitely a message. :eyes emoji:

Stay With Me (home is where your mind is.) by sara_holmes - Marvel/Stony - Where Steve doesn’t quite die, ends up stranded in the multiverse and would quite like to know how the hell so many versions of himself ended up sleeping with Tony Stark. Well, that’s going to make things a tad awkward when he gets home. - Speaking of dimension hopping in superhero fandoms. This is honestly the most interesting way I’ve seen dimension hopping played out. Or rather, dimension consolidating. Steve ends up in a purgatory-style void populated only by other versions of himself from throughout the Multiverse. Like the Mirror, there’s definitely a message being sent here about how many versions of him are doing the do with a certain genius playboy billionaire philanthropist. 

Thicker than Water by StarkatHeart - Marvel/Stony/Superfamily - Neither of them would admit it, but blood does count for something.//When Peter Parker discovers his biological father is actually none other than Tony Stark, it's not exactly news that's well received. By either party. But they're Avengers. They're teammates. They'll just have to work through it. ...Or maybe just ignore it. - On a completely different note from Starker, or not-so-different, depending on how depraved you like your fic to be flavoured, Peter as Tony’s biological son. This is pure Superfamily, not a hint of fucked up incest to be found. Though if anyone has any fucked up incest recs, I’m down to get my dirty paws on them.

the undiscovered country by indigostohelit - Shakespeare/Hamratio - It's 1959, and the mayor of Chicago is dead. - Remember how I said indigo had written some of my fav fics before? Yeah, 1950’s Americana!AU Hamlet, with added Hamratio. It is as good as it sounds.

All of astolat’s GoT and Thor works TBH. But please don’t pass up her Thorki, especially not Chaos War and Revelations. 

Reaching as I Fall by apokteino - Supernatural/Destiel - “Service to God was the meaning of existence; service to Michael is nothing but slavery.” Castiel is part of an underground network helping angels fall, in resistance to heaven. At the same time that a fallen angel by the name of Dean Winchester turns up, some of those in the network are murdered by Michael’s forces – there’s a spy. What does Dean have to do with it? Who is Dean? And why are they hunting him so fiercely?//A story about love, family, and choice. - Let me introduce you to my favourite AU concept from all of SPN fandom. No, I won’t spoil it. Needless to say, I’ve tried to write it myself a thousand times, and only succeeded in a thousand false starts. Maybe one day I’ll get around to it. Plus, I always disagree with these authors, anyway. Dean is totally a bottom. ;P

I Got a Soul but I’m Not a Soldier by starandrea - Supernatural/Destiel - AU: Castiel is on the road (saving people, helping things) when he meets Dean and realizes that his soul is different - and not just because he's the pastor's son. - Here it is again, my favourite trope (well, I’d call it a trope, if there were more than a dozen or so fics for it). If you haven’t read RAIF, I’m wondering if you’ve caught on yet. ;P.

Chosen Man by Sineala - The Eagle/Marcus x Esca - The son of the man who lost the Eagle of the Ninth would never be allowed a first command of his very own fort, would he?//Marcus is posted not to Isca Dumnoniorum, but to a wretched and run-down garrison north of the Wall. There he finds that he is the new centurion of a group of scouts and spies, all of them British. He has few supplies and no experience. His men distrust him. His superiors despise him. His second-in-command is an incompetent drunkard. And the local tribes are determined to kill all of them.//But the worst thing of all is one of Marcus' soldiers. He is an enigmatic, dangerous, and insubordinate man by the name of Esca, who makes Marcus yearn for terrifying things he has never before wanted and can never, ever let himself have… - Sine pretty much engineered the Eagle fandom. 

I followed them from the Eagle and into all their other ventures, too, and when they started writing for Stony I practically screamed in excitement. PLEASE read their Stony, if it’s the only Stony you ever read.

The Leonardo Effect by Phoenike - Assassin’s Creed/EzioLeo - To Ezio’s best knowledge, Leonardo's idea of debauchery was staying up until morning with a bottle of wine and too many sketching supplies. But why would the gondolier have lied? It was a heavy accusation. In both Firenze and Venezia, mere allegations of unnatural conduct had condemned men to be pilloried or hanged. - My favourite EzioLeo fic of all time. Everything Phoe has ever written is a gem, but this one takes the cake. Have I said that already? A lot of cake is being taken. Please read. It’s the epitome of what makes EzioLeo good.

Naked to Mine Enemies by mundungus42 - Pirates of the Caribbean/Sparrington - The Pirate Code doesn't expressly command its adherents to repay debts that bridge life and death, but the Code is more of a set of guidelines, anyway. Sparrow/Norrington, set after At World's End, ignores all films released thereafter. - A classic fic for a classic ship. My ship pun both is and isn’t intended. I’d read this one over and over. Okay, I already do. Whenever I go back to Sparrington, I go back to this.

The Persistence of Iron by Sylvia - Marvel/X-Men Cinematic Universe/Cherik - Waking up in a lab with no memories and a blue-eyed stranger calling him by someone else's name is only the beginning of Erik's problems.- Sci-fi mystery. You don’t need to ask me to clarify at this point, do you? Cloning tech? CLONING TECH? DE-AGING CLONING TECH? So many favourite tropes.

Take the Heat Out of Me by quipquipquip - DCU/Jaydick - Lost Days!Jason trolls Officer Grayson!Dick in Blüdhaven. Dick counter-trolls with the power of love. (It's super effective.) - A classic Jaydick fic. I think it was quip’s last foray into fic. Under that name, at least. What a bang to go out with.

Don’t Quote Me by TKodami - DCU/Superbat/WIP - Bruce Wayne has weathered scandal before, and Wayne Enterprises can handle another publicity crisis. What Bruce can’t handle is one crashing up against his plans to infiltrate Lex’s estate. Set during Batman v. Superman. - There’s that more Superbat. I’m sure… one day… the author will finish it. It’s a goddamn sex tape scandal!fic. Glorious.

Speaking of, every Superbat fic by Liodain. 

In This White Wave I Am Sinking by queeniegalore - Generation Kill/Bradray - He felt like he wasn’t really living, like he was in an in-between state, something that came between war and real life, something like purgatory. - The atmosphere for this is consistently beautiful and bittersweet. 

Okay, that’s about it for now. Save for an honourable mention to one of the fics that I started off with in the SPN fandom. I’d honour some more, but most everything’s been purged at this point. Come on, 2012!fandom, stop hiding behind how “cringe” you think shit was. I want my fic back.

Pull Me Under by AwesomeDistractions -- a Destiel handprint!kink WIP.

And finally, the most honourable mention, the first slash fic I ever read, from the Pokemon fandom, of all places. Originalshipping horror/mystery!AU. Wow, my tastes have always been, well, my tastes. Believe it or not, best place I can find it is a Waybackmachine archive of a creepypasta uploading site that went defunct a while back. I never found out the original author. But here it is, Missing, the first ever slash fic I stumbled across.

If you guys want more, I can definitely provide more. I have thousands of bookmarks. These are just my very, very favourites. What ones are still remaining on AO3, anyway. This is why I save most in PDFs. Though there are a few completely lost to time, and I’m pretty sure the OTW says fuck you to Waybackmachine, which. Uhghgh. Please. I want my nostalgia rush back.

[bonesmctightass]

Break

Having a little internal voice helping with decision making and generating interesting ideas is kind of amazing most of the time. Until suddenly it isn't. Like when it gets petulant, naggy, and just generally unpleasant. It's time like those when McCoy wished his cranial command center was a lot less vocal.

"Will you shut up for five minutes?" He snapped irritably. "I keep typing what you're saying! I'll never finish this article if you don't let me think!"

I would not need to be so incessant if you would listen to me the first time, Leonard.

McCoy grumbled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This stupid argument had been going on for the better part of an hour and it was really starting to grate on his nerves. "I already told you I don't get paid until Wednesday. It's your own fault the cable was shut off anyway! How many times have I told you we have to pay for those on demand Bake Off episodes?"

Jim has a television. Jim likes us. He would let us use the cable.

"We're not going over there to mooch off Jim's cable! That's rude." McCoy closed the lid to his laptop, resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to be able to finish his work until his needy parasitic freeloader got to watch his show.

I am a living organism, Leonard. I am in need of mental stimulation just as you are. We have been sitting in this chair for six hours.

Shit. He did it again. Had it really been that long? McCoy looked at his phone and was startled by the realization that it was approaching five o'clock in the afternoon. A pang of guilt stabbed at his heart. Spock had been mostly quiet while McCoy did his writing. Maybe that's why he'd lost track of time so easily.

No, that was a lie. This was how it always happened. No sense in trying to make himself feel better about it. He'd sit at his desk and work the day away, ignoring Spock's needs in the process as well as his own. The only difference was today the Vulcan was without his usual means of entertainment.

Please, Leonard. I require a respite from the work time.

God, he sounded so desperate. McCoy was a monster. "Alright." He conceded, the weight of his unsavory mood slumping his shoulders. "Okay. You're right." McCoy patted his knee and Spock formed a portion of his mass from his left thigh. "I've been meaning to pay Jim a visit anyhow."

That was another lie. He would've kept on going if Spock hadn't so thoroughly distracted him. That made the sick feeling in McCoy's stomach kick up another notch.

Spock nudged his forehead against McCoy's hand appreciatively. And we will have the evening meal?

It was too early for dinner but that didn't matter. McCoy couldn't deny his well behaved Vulcan a chance to flex his cooking skills any more than he could deny Spock anything else right then.

"I guess we'll have to see what Jim's got in his fridge," he agreed. "Lord knows we don't have anything in ours."

This had to stop. Their developing relationship had always taken the back burner when McCoy's work was concerned, which was exactly how he'd gotten divorced in the first place. How his life went to shit. It was happening all over again. Just the thought of Spock leaving crippled him like nothing else could. It chilled him right down to his bones.

I would not leave you, Leonard.

Jocelyn said that too.

"Not really the best host. Wouldn't blame you if you did." He said it nonchalantly. Even playing at calm made his lungs constrict. He should really stop trying to pull one over on the Vulcan. It wasn't like lying had ever worked for him in the past. Spock knew the naked truth, all of his rawest emotions and selfish thoughts. If McCoy were the alien and Spock the human hotel, he would've left. And that was terrifying.

The pulling sensation came to a head as Spock lifted his mass fully out of McCoy's body. He settled himself in McCoy's lap and fixed him with a level stare. McCoy swallowed thickly and stared up into those unblinking eyes.

You think too much.

Yeah.

Allow me to quiet your mind.

Please. McCoy could beat himself up all night. Has before. He'd do it again if Spock didn't do something. Spock would take care of him. Spock always took care of him.

Put your arms around me.

McCoy did without hesitation. Lifted right up and draped his arms loosely around Spock's shoulders. He'd do just about anything Spock told him to do right now.

There is time to eat and be social later.

McCoy nodded absently, mouth dry. He knew perfectly well what that meant. Spock was hulking like this, filling his vision and his lap and his arms. The second that train of thought rolled around in his skull Spock pushed his clawed hands up under McCoy's shirt and gripped his waist possessively.

I am going to fill you everywhere else.

It doesn't matter that he expected the kiss. It's the tongue that McCoy can never adequately prepare for. Unreasonably massive and dextrous, just like the rest of Spock. And when it's in his mouth it's damn near impossible to focus anything else. That's exactly what Spock wanted. Everything else melted away.

That wicked tongue filled the cavern of his mouth and licked down his throat and all McCoy could do was grunt helplessly and take it. Fuck, it felt good. Exactly what he needed to turn his traitorous brain off and just the stimulating break that Spock was looking for.

McCoy, already high on endorphins, slumped back in his desk chair and settled in for the ride.

[incorrigiblyhuman]

@sagaiisms replied to your post:

Gimme those sweet stats.

okay so i copied parts of what i put in response to an earlier meme, but i added a BUNCH of extra explanations and stats so HERE WE GO:

LEONARD HORATIO McCOY, VARIANT HUMAN, TWILIGHT DOMAIN CLERIC.

variant human:

extra language:  elvish, a.k.a. vulcan, which is as close as i can get to acknowledging his unique knowledge of half-vulcan half-human physiology. i’ll count it as comprehension of mannerisms, too.

ability score improvement x2:  dexterity, intelligence - he’s excellent with his hands (DEX), and a brilliant medic who has on multiple occasions come up with cures on the fly, in imperfect conditions, for never-before-seen illnesses and plagues. (INT)

additional proficiency:  intimidation, because he’s king of the curmudgeons and if you think you’re leaving sickbay before he wants you to then fuck you, you’re wrong.

feat:  war caster, because he serves on a starship that is expected to run into combat, he has to be ready and able to perform while under attack. and is, always. also, being able to use the somatic components of a spell even if holding a weapon or shield is so useful when people in sickbay keep fucking ATTACKING YOU.

twilight domain cleric:

proficiencies:  insight, medicine - medicine is obvious, insight is because the enterprise doesn’t technically have an onboard psychologist, so he frequently fills that role, and has the degree for it. also because he’s learned to read the people he sees day in and day out like the medical textbooks he studied in college, he just Knows Things.

eyes of night:  gives you darkvision with no maximum range, and allows you to give that darkvision to other people around you. okay so it’s a bit of a stretch, but i like to apply this class feature to the surgical procedure mccoy invented involving grafting neural tissue to the cerebral cortex, SPECIFICALLY because they ended up using it in st: voyager, which is like passing off the ability to see in the dark because mccoy himself saw through the dark to create that procedure years before.

vigilant blessing:  gives one creature you touch advantage on the next initiative roll. how many times has kirk been about to move only to pause because of mccoy’s warning “jim!” and then proceed again, more cautiously? that vigilance keeps his friends safe.

channel divinity : twilight sanctuary:  can refresh allies by granting temporary hit points and ending one effect that causes one to be charmed/frightened. not only is mccoy a damn doctor, but he’s also pretty DAMN good at taking the piss out of someone, or making light of a heavy situation.

ability score improvement x2:  charisma, wisdom - man is scary, charming, and sympathetic in equal measures (CHA) and he’s been around the block a few times, he knows how to handle people and he knows what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t always act diplomatically. (WIS) i chose ability score over a feat because so far he’s a DEX and INT focused build but CHA is a super important part of his personality so we can’t lose out on that, and he needs WIS to be a cleric with a decent spell save DC.

steps of the brave:  at 6th level, you get advantage on saving throws against being frightened. mccoy’s instinctual reaction to fear is to throw it back in someone’s face, outwardly he gets pissy far before he gets scared. and it’s an effective reaction, just look at the khan scene. this feat also gives you a flying speed in darkness but i don’t know what the hell to do with that except to say that he can and will come out of nowhere if he senses you’re being a dumbass on this ship.

feat:  tavern brawler + increase in strength score - how many times have he and other away team members ended up in prison/captured/stranded/under attack? so many. tavern brawler gives him proficiency with improvised weapons ( see: the mattress in “bread & circuses” ), a stronger unarmed strike ( see: his takedown of the transporter operator in “city on the edge of forever” ), and a bonus action to grapple a target when attacking with an unarmed strike/improvised weapon. ( see: restraining eleen so that she wouldn’t alert the guards when the triumvirate were trying to break out of captivity in “friday’s child.” )

divine intervention:  at 10th level, can call a deity to intervene on your behalf when your need is great. “angels and ministers of grace defend us” from st: voyage home. need i say more?

prepared spells:   CANTRIPS - GUIDANCE  -  kirk goes to him for advice a LOT. - MENDING  -  the man can sew. let him patch some shit up. - TOLL THE DEAD  -  a single “he’s dead, jim” seals your fate. - SPARE THE DYING  -  perfect for a miracle worker. - WORD OF RADIANCE  -  he’s a master of offhanded insults, i’d give him cutting word if it was an option. 1ST, 2ND, 3RD, 4TH, and 5TH LEVELS - COMMAND  -  he’s CMO, if he’s talking you’re listening. - DARKNESS  -  he can project his depression like a dark cloud i guess? this one’s always prepared for twilight clerics, idk. - DETECT EVIL AND GOOD  -  he’s got good gut feelings, like in “dagger of the mind”. - FAERIE FIRE  -  useful for picking a problem out amongst the cluster of human internal organs, and especially amongst alien internal organs. - SLEEP  -  he can knock you out with a hypospray at any moment. - INVISIBILITY  -  where’s that post like MCCOY EXISTS YOU ASSHOLES. that. it’s a triumvirate goddammit. - SPIRITUAL WEAPON  -  hypospray. that’s it. - AURA OF VITALITY  -  tell me you don’t just light up seeing him bounce on his toes. he brings vigor to the room and joy to the heart. - BEACON OF HOPE  -  “my god bones. what have i done?”  “what you had to do. what you always do: turn death into a fighting chance to live.” - CREATE FOOD AND WATER  -  he can pull alcohol out of his ass. - FEIGN DEATH  -  amok time. that’s it. - LEOMUND’S TINY HUT  -  another one that’s always prepared for this class. he just makes any place feel like home, i guess. also ‘leomund’ looks like ‘leonard’. - REVIVIFY  -  i mean it’s a staple for any cleric, but also he’s a miracle worker who will bring you back to life no matter what. - AURA OF LIFE  -  it’s like what he gave everyone in “wolf in the fold” to keep them from succumbing to the killing terror of the jack the ripper spirit. - FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT  -  he’s a healer, so i imagine he’s pretty free to do whatever the hell he wants by the laws of most societies. especially if there’s a chance he can help someone. likewise, he can grant it to others by just saying ‘doctor’s orders’. - GREATER INVISIBILITY  -  MCCOY EXISTS YOU ASSHOLES!! but the movies version. - CIRCLE OF POWER  -  this is just a metaphor for vaccines. he can grant everyone advantage on saving throws. - CONTAGION  -  this is the “mirror mirror” nod, the acknowledgement of that potential for darkness should it need to shine through. you think he’s not capable of weaponizing his medicine when pressed? try him. try mirror leonard horatio mccoy. it’ll be the last thing you ever do. - DREAM  -  this is just a nod to the dreams of the raven novel tbh, he can affect ya dreams. - GEAS  -  if you’re nearby and he needs an extra set of hands, you’re an orderly now, period. likewise, if you’re fucking around in his space, all he needs to do is give you The Eyebrow and you will immediately stop. - LEGEND LORE  -  campfire stories baybee! he’s got ‘em! also a thousand and one stories about some great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great someone or other.

i only went up to level 10 stats for the time being because look at how damn long this got already agshdjk but IN SUMMARY!

twilight domain is TECHNICALLY unearthed arcana and untested, so it’s not “legit” yet, but the description of it fits mccoy to a T:

“the twilight domain governs the transition and blending of light into darkness. it is a time of rest and comfort, but also the threshold between safety and the unknown. clerics who serve these deities tend to be brave, delving into the dark to hold its dangers at bay and to bring comfort to those lost far from the light.” 

like what could possibly better suit a space-traveling, bullheaded doctor who joined starfleet after losing everything?

[acesthetically-pleasing]

I’d like to request an elaboration on my headcanon of Genderqueer Graysexual Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy (Star Trek AOS) please!

@spaceyravenclaw Thanks for an awesome ask! :) Sorry, it took so long! Illness and work combined efforts to keep me off writing this. It’s not much but I hope you like it. (You’d think being genderqueer, I’d have an easier job of writing about it, sheesh!) (Also, it’s not really the format I’ve planned on using but here we are. Kaiidth  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

According to Leonard McCoy "doctor" is a completely gender-neutral term and that's brilliant.

Of course, it's a generally accepted fact, everyone knows that and sexist bias arent that blatant in the 23rd century. Len comes from a long line of doctors and he knows it wasn't always so, but it is now. Few, however, think that it's of any importance or something to like or dislike.

"It is the most fundamental definition of the term, doctor. It is illogical to apply personal attachments to linguistic facts."

Leonard doesn't give a damn about that. He likes that he doesn't have to put a male-connected term before his name all the time. That he doesn't have to choose "male" when it doesn't really fit but fits too well to pick "female" and don't even get Len started on picking the "x" option which vaguely stands for "neither/either/other". He knows the history of it too well to consider it. Call him paranoid but it is an easy way for powers to be to pick up everyone not falling into the binary system, okay?

Anyway, he really doesn't care to talk about it all the time and people would have follow-up questions and he really doesn't give a damn. He ticks off "male" and doesn't think about it later. It doesn't matter. They won't call him "Sir" or "Mister". He's a goddamn doctor and that's all that matters.

Jim knows.

Fuck knows how he knows but he knows. Perhaps he noticed Len hesitate over the "x" option too long at some point. Perhaps he just saw right through Len and knew him inside out. Perhaps Len was just rambling while drunk and Jim pieced it together. They don't talk about it.

Just like they don't talk about how Jim would do anyone willing and Len is more 'meh' about the whole concept. They don't have any coming out talks, really. They just figure each other out along the way. Perhaps it's not the healthiest attitude, but it works well enough.

Gender identity is generally weirder and more complex concept in Starfleet and then space. What with so many different cultures and alien races. Some of them have similar enough binary to muddle through, but others can't even really relate to that idea. Some of them pick the "x" option, some just go with whichever feels right. There's one nurse who just couldn't figure it out at all but was determined to decide on something, so she flipped a coin. The concept of gender entirely absent in her culture, but she wanted to try it on, so why not?

It's easy to just be a doctor, no gendered titles at all, but it's also easier to let himself think about himself like that. And once, half tired, half-drunk, half rebellious Bones doesn't care how many halves his argument has and just ticks off the "x" option, because why the fuck not, yeah?

Spock mentions a mistake in his paperwork and says perhaps Len was too tired to do it since he made a mistake in his personal information. There's a reproach in it - for being too tired, too weak, for getting hurt in the first place - but it feels like it's for more. For the change itself. He doesn't argue just asks Spock to send the damn files to be redone correctly.

They never come and Jim says not to worry about it, so Len figures now Spock knows as well. Brilliant.

If he had any doubts about it - perhaps Jim managed to be subtle? a tiny deep space miracle? - they evaporate a few weeks later on the away mission.

The planet's race is new to the Federation and clings to its own history and customs, radicalizing in their devotion to the tradition in the face of joining a multicultural, intergalactic union. They don't allow men to be healers, it is a sacred calling. Except they are unable to survive the plague on their own, they were accidentally exposed to the virus that shouldn't even be in their sun system yet.

Starfleet promises to lend them the best doctors they have, which seems like a clear order to Jim - he sends Bones.

The aliens seem confused but they don't know humans well enough to argue.

"It is not a man?" one diplomat asks uncertainly.

"No," Spock answers without a bit. "It is our doctor."

Len could kiss, though not really. Ugh.

[mckirkish]

Little Green Men

theanishimori replied to your post “Bringing this back then! :D I need to get my writing mojo going and...”

Current Day AU Spones? Like Bones is a doctor in a regular hospital but the military asks him to look at a special patient and it turns out to be Spock, who crash-landed on Earth (his mother may or may not have been abducted earlier...) Any Spones would be great, though!!! <3

Hey pal! Long time no see! I mean, totally my fault, but good to see you’re still around! So I’m not sure how Spones-y this turned out, as my mind wanted to write it from the beginning? I tried to throw a little bit in there! Enjoy~

Leonard would like to say that he knew the instant that the bastards walked into the operating gallery. But the reality is, he had no fucking clue. He was far more focused on the patient under his knife than anything going on around him.

He did know, however, as soon as he had finished closing and was scrubbing down again.

There was a tenseness in the air, a hushed whispering, and Leonard hardly needed to turn around and see the men in black to guess that something of the sort was going to be behind him.

Fucking men in black.

“Doctor Leonard McCoy?” One of the goons demands.

“Depends who’s asking,” Leonard drawls back at him, stepping forward and shouldering his way past the men. He has a list of patients a mile long, he doesn’t have time for any cloak and dagger bullshit.

“The United States of America.”

“Yeah?” Leonard turns to look the man who had spoken up and down, then snorts. “Well it can take a number, I have a schedule to keep.” Leonard turns and starts walking again, heading for the locker room so he can change out of his bloody scrubs and into a clean set. Maybe he’ll even have time for a piss and a bite to eat before his next surgery.

“Your presence is required-”

Stopping abruptly, Leonard turns sharply on his heel to stare hard at the goon in black. “Is that so?” he drawls, voice dangerous. “Required is it? And just who requires it? The lady waiting for a new kidney? Or the kid waitin’ to see if I can just maybe operate and save their leg from cancer? By all means, gentlemen, enlighten me.”

Neither good blinks.

“This is not a request, Doctor McCoy,” Goon 1 says evenly, taking a firm hold of Leonard’s arm.

“Your presence is required for a delicate medical matter, Doctor McCoy,” Goon 2 repeats, gripping Leonard’s other arm. “We must insist that you come with us.”

It seems like the only choice Leonard has in this matter is whether or now he’s dragged out of the hospital or marches out on his own two feet.

His pride dictates the latter, though he’s not shy about letting his captors know just what he thinks about the matter.

Not that they care.

He complains until he’s blue in the face, and there is no response from the goons. Not in the SUV ride to the airport; not in the helicopter; not in the second mysterious SUV ride.

However, even Leonard has to stop his constant litany of complaints as they pull up to a set of gates that just scream ‘top secret government installation’.

“What in the hell-?”

“Your patient is inside, Doctor. You will need to undergo standard decontamination procedures, and then, I suspect, you will want to get to work.”

Leonard doesn’t even check to see which goon it is, he has a bad feeling about this, a real bad feeling.

He lets himself get ushered from the SUV, follows the goons through the sterile halls, his heart climbing with every faintly echoing step. He’s on autopilot now, following where he’s led, going through the motions of decontamination for whatever branch of the government this happens to be.

Leonard comes to himself when he enters the operating theatre and approaches the table. The being, because that’s not human, lying there is – fucking hell, it’s conscious! It’s looking at him with dark eyes, a dark green tinge to high cheekbones and- Ears. Those ears. They’re fucking pointed. “What the hell is this?”

“A man who needs your help, Doctor. Our scientists can’t figure out what’s wrong with him.”

Leonard stares down at the…well hell, that’s an alien. He stares down at the alien, at the green leaking form his body, and nods.

He’d sword an oath. Do no harm. Help those in need. He can’t ignore the evident need of this alien, even if he doesn’t approve of what these men are doing. “Right,” he says softly, bending over the man. “Let’s see what I can do for you. After that, we can worry about getting you out of here.”