#s/tar t/rek

[tvfish]

Some people aren't equipped to handle polywater intoxication

[stagnantspaces]

Brain is focused more on the caretaking aspect for my feeding kink rn. Have no idea how to go about it and much too tired to figure it out currently.

Thinking about Cam giving L/ondo direct control on his eating habits. Since he can't be responsible for his own health anymore.

And L/ondo attentively and lovingly making sure that Cam gets more than enough to eat every day. Because Cam deserves it.

[dustified]

hi, hello, welcome to my adhd hellscape of a multimuse

[cagedchoices]

Okay so this is a second attempt at trying to make kind of a age/appearance reference sheet while also tying in a small amount of verse info so here's hoping that it will actually kind of make sense this time?? Especially since I don't really use icons very much anymore and I get the feeling that sometimes it can be hard to get a feeling for what Caleb would look like outside of the context of W/estworld. Even I kinda forget from time to time so this is for my benefit as much as anyone's. Under a cut because it's long.

SEASON 3 PRE-CANON

ignore the fact that this is a 40 year old man for just a second, everyone keeps casting him in projects that involve playing characters who would've looked significantly different when they were younger and we all just. keep letting him get away with it?? (lookin at you E/l C/amino... also the B/CS cameos...)

Realistically, Caleb would've looked around THIS young when he went into the army, This was a 19/20 year old actor in this case playing a 17/18 year old character. Appearance-wise, he will look more or less like this in any verse I'm writing where he's a teenager, and also in College V1 since that's a verse where he goes to college instead of joining the army.

By the time Caleb gets OUT of the military, he'd be around 25 or 26 years old. This is what he looks like in flashbacks in the show...

This is roughly how he would look instead, although I do keep in mind that the actor was about to turn or had recently turned 30 here, he at least looked young enough to be playing a character who was 24/25 years old.

I generally envision Caleb maintaining an appearance similar to this any time I do threads in verses where he falls between the ages of 25 and 30 years old, mainly Modern V1, and maybe my yet-to-be-developed S/tar T/rek verse. When it comes to canon, it helps put into perspective just how young he still was when Serac's system completely destroyed his life. He wasn't really a kid anymore, but in a lot of ways he still kind of was.

SEASON 3 CANON

As season 3 canon goes, Caleb is 35 years old, being played by an actor who is 40 but looked pretty much the same way when he was 35. This used to be the age and appearance I'd default to for any thread based in W/estworld canon or post-season 3, and I'd also use it when I had no idea what verse I wanted to use.

SEASON 4 PRE-CANON

From the end of season 3 to roughly 1 year later, Caleb is 36 and not changed much from before, although he does seem to have let the beard grow a little longer and actually kinda be a beard. His hair grows out a little more while he's in the hospital and starts to lay flat, and he gains a small scar on his left cheek from a laceration which is held closed by butterfly stitches until it heals. We never actually see it, but I headcanon he has a scar on the right side of his abdomen, from where he got shot and had surgery to remove the bullet fragments.

I haven't used this particular appearance for much outside of a few post-season 3 threads set during the riots/war waged against Incite, as it's really not that different from season 3 canon. But maybe I should use it more?

SEASON 4 CANON

Season 4 Caleb is at least 42 years old, pretty well synced up with the actor who would've been the same age when this was filmed. I will often default to writing Caleb at this age in particular because in my experience, muses over 35yrs tend not to get as much attention as young 20-somethings or early 30-somethings, and muses over 40 frequently get even less attention in the first place.

For specific threads, I mainly use this appearance, who I call "Scruffy Caleb," in my season 4 canon and post-canon verses, and then I also use it for the verses Fidelity, Modern V2, T/LOU, P/eaky B/linders, and R/ed D/ead R/edemption. Like before, Caleb has a scar on his left cheek, and he has a scar on the right side of his abdomen. If I'm writing any sort of AU where the events of season 4 happen but human Caleb manages to survive, he gains a new scar on the left side of his abdomen.

[bitegore]

alphabet transliteration rules etc etc

VOWELS (no dipthongs, say every vowel)

a - ah like in odd e - eh like enter i - aye like in eye (or, like, I) o - oh like in open u - u like in ooh y - yu like in you (yuh sound included, unlike in u)

CONSONANTS

c - a click. sort of a k-h sound. like. if actor is a word pronounced like this, it goes ahkk-(eh)tor. like saying doctor in a stereotyped german accent cc - hebrew ch sound, like in chai d - d g - voiced g h - voiced h j - regular j like in "joy" jj - ch like in "chapter" k - hard stop/pause, sort of a quiet (g)/(k) sound kk - spoken K sound, normal k l - l m - m n - n b - b - like a soft p p - p - regular p/hard b r - trilled r rr - longer/harder trilled r (like rrrrrrr rather than rr) s - s t - t v - v or f, depending on which is "flows" easier to say. not distinguished. older transcription systems use fs instead sometimes. z - zh like "je" in "je ne sais quoi" or the s in "asia" ' - unvoiced h, like the secret h in "everest" before the vowel or the h in "white" after the w. rare, largely appears in words with long strings of consonants (syetkk'vri, pronounced syoo-et-k(uh)-vri, would be unpronounceable without it)

VECTORS

LOCATION VECTORS

moving/on a locational vector - sole (suu-leh) still/anchored/not vectoring anywhere - byake (byuu-ah-(g)eh)

toward self - dyk- sole dykka (dyuu-kah) out from self - tak - sole takkes (tahk-ess) parallel to self - [empty] - sikke (sigh-keh)

vertical (z) - pye - sole pyete (pyuu-eht-eh) horizontal (x / east-west) - 'vros - sole evrus ( ev-roos) horizontal (y / north-south) - kkiste - sole kkistakke (kice-tak-eh)

vertical (z) up/to surface - pyelite (pyuu-ehl-ite-eh) vertical (z) down/to ground - pyalu (pyuu-ahl-ooh)

to open - sev - sole sevrekk (sehf-rek) to wall - kkyk - sole kkykkot (kyuu-kote)

west-of-self (translated often as "right" when used metaphorically) - kkye - sole kkyes (kyuu-ehs) east-of-self (translated often as "left" when used metaphorically) - set - sole setke (set-keh) south-of-self (translated often as "forward" when used metaphorically) - teki - sole tekeit (teh-(g)eh-eyet) north-of-self (translated often as "backward" when used metaphorically) - aru - sole aryok (ahr-yuu-oh(g))

horizontal (x) west-of-self to open- vroskkysev (vross-kyuu-sehv) horizontal (x) east-of-self to open- vroset'tev (vross-ehttev) horizontal (x) west-of-self to wall- vroskkykkuk (vross-kyuu-koo(g)) horizontal (x) east-of-self to wall- vrosesekkyk (vross-ehs-ehk-yuu(g)) horizontal (x) west-of-self - vroskkye (vross-kyuu-eh) horizontal (x) east-of-self - vroset (vross-set)

horizontal (y) south-of-self - kkisteki (kice-te(g)-eye) horizontal (y) north-of-self - kkistaru (kice-tar-roo) horizontal (y) south-of-self to open - kkistekisev (kice-te(g)-eye-sehv) horizontal (y) north-of-self to open - kkistarusav (kice-tar-roo-sahv) horizontal (y) south-of-self to wall - kkisteikkyk (kice-teh-eye-kyuu(g)) horizontal (y) north-of-self to wall - kkistarkkyuuk (kice-tar-roo-kyuu(g))

TEMPORAL VECTORS

still/this moment (RARE word) - byesti (byuu-ah-steye) "on a temporal vector"/at any other point in time or experiencing time in motion - siste (sigh-steh)

south-temporal/forward in the future - teki - siste tekearr (teh-(g)eh-ahrrrrr) north-temporal/backward in the past - aru - siste aryorr (ahr-yuu-orrrr) in parallel/at the same time - siku - siste sikyuarr (si(g)-yuu-ahrr)

zero point - point of calibration, compass-location - byaksikketkka (byuu-ah-si-ket-ka)

[chakotayaulait]

So finally that damned last list is done, even a writing that I was really proud of. I almost thought about giving up, and that's because my girlfriend who I've been with since middle school broke up with me a day before I finished that writing. I just thought about deleting everything, resetting myself like usual but I didn't. I wasn't able to work on it anymore that night but the next day, I put on the P aradise soundtrack and edited it all day to forget about everything. It worked about, and now I'm obsessed with P aradise and S tar T rek for their ability to distract me from reality. I've been gaming, writing and especially drawing a lot more since I've lost my source of love. Really, what better to forget about a breakup than dating games?? So, for the first time in a long time I'm regrettably single and it fucking hurts. I've become simultaneously worse and better at creating, worse because my natural bitter and spiteful nature can't be held back and better because it's all I can do right now. I don't roleplay on here anymore, all roleplay has been moved onto https://lustthatdestroys.tumblr.com/ which also doubles as nsfw roleplay blog in general. Though I like what I like and I'll be very picky, especially now when I need the best to play with me. I'll also probably be changing my persona's looks I hate my hair and maybe my name too I don't know, but I am still a man so don't forget that.

S tar Trek: E nterprise, M/M, A rcher/R eed, Oral Vore

P aradise, M/M, S himada/A zuma, Cooking Vore

P aradise, M/M, H ongou/A zuma, Oral Vore

M onogatari, M/F, K oyomi/M ayoi, Cooking vore

[red-the-dragon-writes]

Have some fantasy linguistic nonsense, because I love making my life harder for no reason.

a couple notes: pronunciation guide contained under the cut, this is very much a work in progress conlang where i'm doing experimental stuff for no good reason, and I have no conjugation stuff set in stone yet.

the language is called du-a-kkyreityr (subject to change because it doesn't fit what i got) and you say it really far in the back of your throat. i don't have a lot of other words because i'm working on this first. it's slow going because i literally don't need this for anything, i'm just doing it anyway because the idea of groups of people not having their own languages is like mildly upsetting to me for no good reason LMAO

LOCATION VECTORS

moving/on a locational vector - sole (suu-leh) still/anchored/not vectoring anywhere - byake (byuu-ah-(g)eh) toward self - dyk- sole dykka (dyuu-kah) out from self - tak - sole takkes (tahk-ess) parallel to self - sikke - sole sikke (sigh-keh) vertical (z) - pye - sole pyete (pyuu-eht-eh) horizontal (x / east-west) - 'vros - sole evrus ( ev-roos) horizontal (y / north-south) - kkiste - sole kkistakke (kice-tak-eh) vertical (z) up/to surface - pyelite (pyuu-ehl-ite-eh) vertical (z) down/to ground - pyalu (pyuu-ahl-ooh) toward open/wider space (denoted open elsewhere) - sev - sole sevrekk (sehf-rek) toward wall/ground/enclosed (denoted wall elsewhere) - kkyk - sole kkykkot (kyuu-kote) west-of-self (translated often as "right" when used metaphorically) - kkye - sole kkyes (kyuu-ehs) east-of-self (translated often as "left" when used metaphorically) - set - sole setke (set-keh) south-of-self (translated often as "forward" when used metaphorically) - teki - sole tekeit (teh-(g)eh-eyet) north-of-self (translated often as "backward" when used metaphorically) - aru - sole aryok (ahr-yuu-oh(g)) horizontal (x) west-of-self - vroskkye (vross-kyuu-eh) horizontal (x) west-of-self to open- vroskkysev (vross-kyuu-sehv) horizontal (x) west-of-self to wall- vroskkykkuk (vross-kyuu-koo(g)) horizontal (x) east-of-self - vroset (vross-set) horizontal (x) east-of-self to open- vroset'tev (vross-ehttev) horizontal (x) east-of-self to wall- vrosesekkyk (vross-ehs-ehk-yuu(g)) horizontal (y) south-of-self - kkisteki (kice-te(g)-eye) horizontal (y) south-of-self to open - kkistekisev (kice-te(g)-eye-sehv) horizontal (y) south-of-self to wall- kkisteikkyk (kice-teh-eye-kyuu(g)) horizontal (y) north-of-self - kkistaru (kice-tar-roo) horizontal (y) north-of-self to open - kkistarusav (kice-tar-roo-sahv) horizontal (y) north-of-self to wall - kkistarkkyuuk (kice-tar-roo-kyuu(g))

TEMPORAL VECTORS

still/this exact moment without any temporal changes whatsoever/ "the blink of an eye" - byesti (byuu-ah-steye) "on a temporal vector"/at any other point in time or experiencing time in motion - siste (sigh-steh) south-temporal/forward in the future - teki - siste tekearr (teh-(g)eh-ahrrrrr) north-temporal/backward in the past - aru - siste aryorr (ahr-yuu-orrrr) in parallel/at the same time - siku - siste sikyuarr (si(g)-yuu-ahrr)

PRONOUNCIATION GUIDE

VOWELS (no dipthongs, say every vowel) a - ah like in odd e - eh like enter i - aye like in eye (or, like, I) o - oh like in open u - u like in ooh y - yu like in you (yuh sound included, unlike in u) CONSONANTS c - a click. sort of a k-h sound. like. if actor is a word pronounced like this, it goes ahkk-(eh)tor. like saying doctor in a stereotyped german accent cc - hebrew ch sound, like in (hebrew) chai or english ugh sound d - d g - voiced g h - voiced h j - regular j like in "joy" jj - ch like in "chapter" k - hard stop/pause, sort of a quiet (g)/(k) sound kk - spoken K sound, normal k l - l m - m n - n b - b - like a soft p p - p - regular p/hard b r - trilled r rr - longer/harder trilled r (like rrrrrrr rather than rr) s - s t - t v - v or f, depending on which is "flows" easier to say. not distinguished. older transcription systems use fs instead sometimes. z - zh like "je" in "je ne sais quoi" or the s in "asia" ' - unvoiced h, like the secret h in "everest" before the vowel or the h in "white" after the w. rare, largely appears in words with long strings of consonants (syetkk'vri, pronounced syoo-et-k(uh)-vri, would be unpronounceable without it)

[thethem]

I was in the mood for a Garashir sickfic. Didn't have a lot of time to proofread and scribbled it down way too fast but I was craving and out of fics.

--------‐

Garak was waiting at their usual table for twenty minutes now. It was quite rare that Doctor Bashir was late to their weekly lunch. Of course, Garak knew that the he was a busy man - especially so the last week. There was some sort of psychic illness that only affected the bajoran habitants of the Station and it turned out to be letal in some cases, so Julian worked 24/7 when Kira was infected. Gladly, he found a cure and Garak hoped his companion had found the time to read that cardassian novel he gave him.

After thirty minutes had passed, he decided to go to the infirmary to see what kept the physician from joining him.

The only personnel to be found was a bajoran nurse and when Garak asked for Bashir, she told him that the Doctor went to his quaters two hours ago and only wanted to be disturbed in case of an emergency.

This was interesting. Garak shortly considered returning back to his store but he had a feeling that something was off.

It took a few minutes until Julian answered the doorball. "Garak? What are you... oh no, I forgot our lunch! I'm really, really sorry. I..."

"No need to apologize, I just wanted to see if there was another medical catastrophy keeping you from eating proper meals."

"No, not at all. On the contrary, there wasn't a single..." Julian squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in pain and Garak noticed a sheen of swaet on the humans forehead. "Are you alright, my dear?"

The CMO shook his head and leaned heavily against the wall "Yes, yes, sorry. Just... tired."

"Tired?" Garak asked in disbelive. "I may not be an expert in human physiology but I think you do look a bit unwell. May I suggest you sit down for a moment?"

Julian nodded and swayed at the attempt to move from the wall. Was he supposed to look that pale?

Garak intervened and grabbed Bashirs arm to support him. "Let me help you. Careful, you positively look like you are about to faint."

With Elims help, Julian sat down on the couch and was shaking now. "I'm sorry. I feel a bit lightheaded. It'll pass."

"I'm sure it will, but what caused it?"

"Just tired." Julian repeated.

"Oh no, my dear Doctor, I do not think so. And you don't think so, either, do you?"

Before he could answer, Julian buried his nose in the crook of his arm and stifled three rapid sneezes "Hng'ishh...h'ishhu...sh'huu... ugh, sorry. I think I caught some sort of virus".

"You certainly did. Isn't there a cure?"

"Well, there is. But you have to take it within the first 48 hours and are supposed to rest for at least a day for it to work properly."

"And you had no time to rest, I guess?"

"The medication to cure this virus takes at least five hours to allivate the symptoms and I didn't have that much time so I took... I took something to supress the symptoms instead and seemingly it made everything worse." The last words nearly got lost in a coughing fit.

Garak went to the Replicator and came back with a glass of water.

"You do sound awful. Any chance a cardassian could catch it?"

"No... it's... a hu... human virus." Julian wheezed inbetween coughs.

The tailor sat down next to him and helped him to slowly drink a few sips.

"Then I do think I could close up my shop in time today and we reshedule our meal to dinner in your quaters."

"I'm not sure I'm making good company today."

"You do not have to, my dear Doctor. You rest now and later I'll make sure you're eating some soup. Do you need anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'll get some sleep, thank you." He closed his eyes and lay down right on the couch. Garak went for a blanket and put it gently over the already asleep physician before he left.

Tbc?

[meforeverz]

Some S/tar T/rek D/S9 snzcanons because why not.

Julian: Horrible at stifling, allergic to some perfumes. Usually just sneezes in singles. Sounds something like H’IshhU!

Kira: Sneezes in fits (headcanon that all Bajorans do, even when they aren’t pregnant) is allergic to some Bajoran flora and seems to be mildly allergic to some earth flowers as well. H’kchh!

Jadzia: Very good at stifling. Jadzia herself doesn’t have any allergies, but some of her old hosts used to. So when she’s around a lot of allergens she used to be allergic to it can trigger a reaction anyway, even though she’s not really allergic. High pitched doubles. E’kkiew!

[soupandtissues]

Jim and Spock explore their relationship post The Motion Picture mostly as an excuse to indulge in fetish fluff. 

Jim and Spock barely heard the alarm clock over the rumble of the thunderstorm outside.  Turning the alarm off they sat up and watched the rain pound against the bedroom window.

“Well it had to happen sometime.”

“Indeed, such weather was forecasted recently, and is appropriate for the city at this time of the year.”

“And we get to go out in it, lucky us.”

Jim cuddled closer to Spock.

“I think this calls for a warm breakfast.”

Spock smiled into Jim’s hair.

“I shall make the waffle batter.”

Jim tilted his head up and kissed Spock.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Spock sniffled softly as he pulled back.

“You are you, Jim.”

The rain never let up as they made breakfast (and Spock put blueberries in the waffles to have some attempt at nutrition) and then ate their fill, while reading the morning news.

Jim glared outside as he buttoned his coat.

“Be sure to send my regards to Bones if I don’t make it through that.”

Spock reached out and took Jim’s hand.

“I will see you tonight, Jim.”

Jim smiled at him and left the house.

Having another hour before he had to be at work as well Spock remained at the table, pouring another cup of coffee.  Sipping the warm drink he became aware that the stuffy feeling in his nose that he had noted upon awakening was lingering.  Still, it had been a long time since he had been in Earth’s climate and the change in weather patterns was the likely cause.  Putting his physical state to the back of his mind he finished his coffee and went to get ready for work.

***

Spock came home that evening soaked and chilled.  He put his coat away and went over to the fireplace to turn it on.  He stopped short in the middle of the room as the tickle that had been teasing him the whole way home finally came out

“Hahh...hah’ASHHu!”

Not wishing to pull out the tissues from his pocket, as they were all well used now, he pulled out several new ones from a box near the living room.  He blew his nose but found that his sinuses were still rather clogged.

Obviously this had nothing to do with the weather.

Well there was nothing he could do, but wait it out now.  He threw the tissues into the wastebasket and shivered hard.  Still, he could at least make the experience as comfortable as possible.  He turned on the fireplace as planned, before going into the kitchen.  He picked out a flavour of tea and put it into the machine. He sat down at the table and waited for it to be ready.  As he sat there he found he was nervous about being ill.  Not because the ailment was serious it certainly was not, but that it had come about in a new situation.

It was…strange really. Before, with a few exceptions, illness or injury was either dealt with off-hours in the privacy of their individual cabins or if necessary in sickbay under the watchful, and cranky, eye of McCoy. Now it would be dealt with in closed quarters.  What was the appropriate way of dealing with a minor illness between lovers?  He asked himself as he got up, poured out the tea, and added honey to it.  He was not sure if he would be receptive to any type of care, or if Jim would even be willing to give it.  Spock shook his head, baseless speculation was not getting him anywhere he needed more information.  So, it would be best to talk to Jim; and to be honest and open about his condition.

The front door opened at that moment and Jim was home.

“I hate Admiral Cartwright, I hate my job, and I hate being around sick people!”

Then again, perhaps it would not be best to speak about his cold. 

“Jim,” Spock called.

“Oh, Spock, I didn’t think you’d be home yet.”

Spock got his tea and went out into the living room.

“You wish to air your displeasures to an empty room?”

“Talking to yourself is either a sign of madness or brilliance and right now I think it’s the former,” Jim said, throwing his dripping coat over one chair; before collapsing into the other one.

“Do you wish to discuss it?” Spock asked, coming to sit down beside him.

“It’s nothing really, just the same old stuff.  Cartwright roped me into a meeting with some visiting dignitary and one of her aides had the worst cold in the universe I swear.”  

Putting down his mug, Spock began running his fingers along Jim’s back in light circles.

“She shouldn’t have even been there and…it was uncomfortable to say the least.”

Spock nodded and shivered despite his efforts to keep his own illness contained.

Jim noticed.  “Sorry, Spock, I’m ranting on like this and you’re sitting next to me when I must feel like ice.”

“It is a mild discomfort, Jim.” 

“Well no reason we can’t move this to a more comfortable setting then.”

“I find that acceptable.”

Jim smiled. “I thought you might.”

One of the perks of a desk job, the few there were for Jim, was that it was well paid.  Their home included a large bathroom with a Jacuzzi style tub.  They filled the tub and then quickly settled themselves in the water.

Spock went on with the backrub and enjoyed the feeling as the warm water took away the chill of his cold, but it did not relieve all of his symptoms.  His body wished to sneeze, but he did not wish to disturb Jim further and rubbed his nose hard against his shoulder trying to suppress it.

He finished the backrub and managed not to sneeze.  Jim turned his body to wrap his arms around Spock’s back and let Spock’s legs drape over his own.  Spock took a moment to press his face against Jim’s shoulder, trying to keep the tickles at bay.

“Thanks, Spock.”

“You are welcome, Jim.”

Spock’s nostrils flared and he brought one hand up, bending a finger underneath his nose and sniffled. That turned out to be a terrible idea as the combination of scent and water filling his nose sent him over the edge.

“HehISHh! Isshh! Ahh’asshh!”

Jim’s hands tightened against Spock’s shoulders.

“Bless you.”

Jim moved them closer to the one of the heating elements.  Letting Spock have more of the hot water and made no further mention of it.

Afterwards they migrated to the bedroom.  Clothed only in pants they stretched out on the bed.  Spock let his body sink comfortably against the mattress and pillows as Jim kissed him and gently nipped at his neck. 

It was then that Spock realized his attempt at subterfuge was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.  He needed to sneeze again and Jim had him in such a position that suppressing it or even stifling it was going to be impossible.  Still he did his best, pushing Jim away slightly and turning his head away as much as he could.

“Spock?”

“Ehh-EesSHHhh!”

The moment he opened his eyes Spock could see that he had gotten Jim’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“It’s all right,” Jim said, sitting back.  Spock noticed that the tone of his voice was quite strange. “It’s certainly not like it happened on purpose...but you know you’ve been doing that a lot tonight.  You’re not coming down with something are you?”

Spock refrained from answering that he could not be ‘coming down’ with anything if he was already sick.

“It is a mild cold, nothing more,” he said, sitting up and putting one hand under his nose, as the sneeze had loosened his growing congestion. “Would you mind handing me a tissue?”

Jim grabbed the box they kept near the bed and handed him one.  As Spock wrapped it around his nose Jim frowned.  Both in concern for Spock, along with slight guilt that he might get to see more sneezes from him.

“You should have told me earlier,” Jim said.

Spock couldn’t help but blush.  Jim was already being caring, and in light of that it seemed silly to have tried to keep a simple cold from him. “I admit I was unsure how to act.”

“Why?”

“I was not certain if there was any protocol to this between two people who are intimate and you did express displeasure at being around one who was ill.”

“Right, look about that it...wasn’t that she was sick that was the issue.  It…it was just that we were...I mean with you here it’s different. Are you all right?”

Spock nodded as his nostrils flared.

“Forgive me.  This cold has a persistent tickle, leaving me with a rather constant urge to…to sneeze…” He raised his hand in front of his nose.

“It’s all right if you have to.”

“Hehhh...Huhh...”

Spock sighed and dropped his hand.

“Lost it?  I hate when that happens.”

“It is indeed quite frustrating.”

Jim reached up one hand to Spock’s nose.

“May I?”

Spock nodded, and Jim gently ran on finger up the bridge of his nose and then down again.  He let his fingernail trace over nostrils that were turning a soft green, and flaring in and out.

“Huh!-J-Jim!”

Jim quickly covered Spock’s mouth and nose with his hand.

“Huh...huheESHH! Huh’ARSHUu!”

“My sneezy little Vulcan.”

Spock sniffled as Jim removed his hand. “That statement is full of illogic, Jim.  For one I am taller than you, and am thus not little, and secondly this cannot be appealing.”

“On the contrary, Spock, it’s very appealing.”

Spock titled his head to the side with a look of curiosity.

Jim dropped his eyes and twisted an edge of the blanket in his fingers. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I like it...I like it when people sneeze.  Well-well not everyone!   I mean...I mean yours certainly are-and the lady from today, but...but that shouldn’t be happening in a professional setting.” 

Jim kept his head down as Spock remained silent.

“Please say something.”

“Fascinating.”

Jim’s head snapped up and he glared at him.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Is there something more to say?  I’ve never encountered any kind of fetish before.”

“Well it’s not something people are usually open about.  Even in this day and age there are still people that feel certain that things like that are...something that needs to be fixed.”

Spock wrapped his arms around his lover. “Jim, please do not labour under the illusion that I find it repulsive I don’t.  I would like to understand it better though, is there something you wish me to do?”

Jim didn’t respond immediately.  He had never told any of his partners before, as he’d said, and now to have Spock want to please him, he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered honestly.

Then Spock would not push him.  Still, he was pleased that they had come so far that Jim could tell him such things. He sniffled and felt his sinuses start to itch once more.

“Jim, I can f-feel them coming on.”

“Good, don’t hold them back.”

He pulled him close, letting Spock rub his nose against his shoulder.

“Huh’ESSHH! Hah’ASSHu!”

Jim shivered, letting Spock know that Jim had indeed enjoyed it.  Still, his shoulder was rather damp.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Why?  I just told you I liked it.”

“Still, due to my increased lung capacity my sneezes are quite powerful.”

“That’s why I like them.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“It’s...I guess it’s just how it takes over.  Something most people think of as totally insignificant body function and it leads to a total loss of control.” Jim blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t…I know how important control is for you.”

Spock put a hand under Jim’s chin gently turning him back towards him.

“You are the exception, Jim.  I thought you knew that by now.”

Jim leaned forward and kissed him.

“Remind me.”

[totallynotafetishblog]

Smoke

I've been inspired by @dodecahedral's excellent A/nakin fics and my brain has been All Star Wars All The Time for months, so I wrote a little ~870 word Ob/i-w/an thing set in the Clone Wars-era. Enjoy!

The grimy Coruscant back alley reeked of alcohol and delinquency. Obi-Wan and Anakin were searching for a mobster who was reportedly involved with a Separatist plot to kidnap Senator Organa, and their investigation had brought them to this seedy club in the lower levels. The club was invite-only, and the bouncer had proven surprisingly resistant to mind tricks, forcing the two Jedi to lurk out back until their mobster slipped out or they came up with a better plan.

Anakin glanced down the alley. "If we stay here much longer, someone's going to take notice. We have to find a way in."

"I'm open to suggestions," Obi-Wan replied.

"We could always try the employee entrance."

"I have a feeling we'll run into a similar problem as we did with our friend at the front door. I'm not sure we'll be able to slip past security so easily."

"Do you have any better suggestions? Because so far, your plan has consisted of standing in an alleyway and hoping the person we're looking for stumbles into us."

Obi-Wan sighed and put his hand to his chin. "I suppose the employee entrance is worth a shot."

Before they could discuss their plan further, the door slid open and a grizzled human man stepped out, no doubt some bartender on a break. He leaned against the wall, pulled a cigarra out of his pocket, lit it, and took a long drag.

Anakin gave the man a once-over then turned to Obi-Wan, his voice low. "What do you think? Think he could be persuaded to let us in?"

Obi-Wan smirked. "Leave it to me." He crossed the alley, approaching the bartender who looked up as Obi-Wan neared and blew out a puff of smoke.

"Can I help you?" the man asked in a way which suggested he had no intention of helping.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore both the man's tone and the thick cloud of cigarra smoke swirling around their heads. Having never been a smoker himself, he didn't know much about the varieties of cigarras, but this particular kind had a pungent, earthy smell which he found unpleasant.

"Indeed you can." Obi-Wan raised his hand in front of the bartender's face and spoke slowly. "You will..." A poorly timed inhale filled Obi-Wan's nose and lungs with smoke, and his body was overcome with the urge to free itself from the irritant. Knowing that the mind trick would fail if he broke concentration, Obi-Wan attempted to power through and pay no attention to the tickling sensation.

“You wi-ih-ll...” The itch spiralled deeper into his sinuses, demanding Obi-Wan’s attention. He needed to sneeze. He wouldn’t, not yet, but the need grew stronger with every passing moment. "You will let my friend and I-ih-HIH!"

He was desperate to rub his nose or blow it or do something, anything, to quell the nagging itch, but he didn't dare move and let his focus falter. Even as his eyes began to water and his voice wavered, he refused to give in and again tried to finish his sentence, much more quickly this time, the words running together. "You-will-let-my-friend-and-I-enter-this-establishment."

The man snorted. "I most certainly will not."

Well, that had been a bust. He knew that, realistically, his concentration had been broken the second he felt the itch, but he had hoped that somehow, if he fought it, he could still pull off the mind trick. No point holding back now, anyway. Obi-Wan brought the sleeve of his robe over his nose and let the growing tickle overtake him. "hi'ISHhhiew! ESHhhiew!" He had never been prone to long fits, but the effect of the smoke was profound. Blinking back irritated tears, he surfaced for a breath before immediately folding back over into his sleeve. "ATSHhhOO! hih'ITSHhOO! hih-ih... HIH'SHhIEW!"

"Dank farrik, man. What's wrong with you?" Despite his gruff tone, the bartender reached into his pocket and pulled out a rag which he offered to Obi-Wan. The Jedi accepted it to avoid being rude, though he had a handkerchief of his own buried in his robes and he dreaded to think where the rag had been.

"My deepest apologies," Obi-Wan said after blotting his nose. "Have a good night."

Obi-Wan crossed the alley back to Anakin, the bartender shaking his head in confusion before taking another drag on his cigarra.

Anakin glared at Obi-Wan. "What was that?" he asked, gesturing back toward the bartender.

Obi-Wan sniffed and tended to his nose again. "It's that blasted smoke. I've always hated the smell."

"Seriously, Obi-Wan?" Anakin said with a smirk. "Let me handle this."

Obi-Wan prepared to shoot back with a snappy retort or a plea to be careful or something somewhere in between, but Anakin was already striding over to the bartender and waving a hand in front of his face. The bartender's expression went blank and he opened the door, ushering Anakin inside. Anakin beckoned Obi-Wan over. He followed, a bizarre combination of pride and embarrassment mixing in his chest that his former Padawan had succeeded where he failed. Inside the club, it was musty and dim and, unfortunately, cloudy with cigarra smoke. Obi-Wan sniffled, sighed, and braced himself for what was sure to be a long night.

[writeouswriter]

Me? Creating an entirely new sci-fi universe on a whim? It’s more likely than you think.

[snztrash]

i am desperate enough for snz smut that i am considering actually interacting on the blue hell site instead of lurking just so that they’ll verify my age... someone quick stage an intervention

[thethem]

I'm an overworked physician and someone had to suffer for it so here's a sick and mieserable CMO

Exhaustion

 

It wasn’t really unusual that Bones didn’t show up for dinner if he was too busy. But today it was quite relaxed on the Enterprise. Nothing happened. Maybe McCoy was still doing paperwork and forgot about the time. So the captain decided to bring him some food down to sickbay while Spock went back to the bridge.

Even down in medbay nothing was going on. Really nothing. Not a single bed was occupied. But the doctor deserved some rest after the last weeks of constant trouble. Epidemics, injured crew members, the full program. Kirk knocked at the office door and entered without waiting for a reply.

“Bones, I have some… Bones, are you alright?”

The surgeon sat on his desk, head resting on his arms, face buried in his right elbow.

“Go away” he hissed.

“I have some pasta with…”

“I’m not hungry. Just leave me alone, Jim.” McCoy muttered hoarsely without looking up. His shoulders rose while he inhaled deeply before he sneezed harshly into his elbow. “HECHH’EEWW”

“Bless you.” Jim said and came closer. “Are you ill?”

“No, I’m sneezing my aching head off just for fun. HEH… HEESHOO!” He still remained in the same position so Jim wasn’t able to see his face.

“Why are you down here? M’Benga should…”

“M’Benga is sick.”

“Still? Yeah, I see. But you are perfectly fine.” Kirk saw his friends’ body moving up and down again with deep breaths announcing another sneeze.

“Heh… ehhh… Heshoo! Echhew! ‘CHEW! Ugh…”

Jim put one hand on McCoys back. “I could ask Christine to give you some hypos.”

“Forget it. Won’t work. HECHH’EEW! I pushed myself the last five day with hypos. The last two days I had to overdose them to… ETCHH’EHHO… to have any effects. I tried, didn’t work today. ‘TCHHEW!”

“You did what? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“Jim, please, go. I need a few minutes…” Bones was exhausted. He had to work about fourteen hours a day for the last two weeks. Every. Damn. Day. M’Banga had caught a bad case of the flu so McCoy had to do everything by himself and the whole ship was in chaos after their last exploration.

“A few minutes? You need a day off. Better two or three. Go to your quarters. That’s an order. I’ll manage everything.”

Now Bones lifted his head and looked at Jim with glassy eyes. “But...”

“No. Stop it. I told you it’s an order. Everything will be fine, trust me. I’ll exchange this” he showed the box with pasta “and bring you some soup later. And I’ll give you a report so you can be sure the universe won’t perish if you take some days off, okay?

“Thank you, Jim.”

[meforeverz]

Something something most Bajorans sneeze in short fits even when they aren't pregnant

[soupandtissues]

More Star Trek stuff from ‘City on the Edge of Forever’, or at least directly following it.

The Enterprise finally left the Time Planet, as it had been dubbed.  And between getting McCoy to sickbay to be thoroughly checked over after the cordrazine overdose, finding Captain Kirk after he left sickbay abruptly; only to be told sharply that he wanted to be alone, and making sure all things were in order for the gamma shift Spock found himself alone in his quarters with five hours before alpha shift.  Five hours, it would not be enough for a full recovery. 

They had spent over a week in old New York.  Ten hours of work each day at the Mission followed by working, most nights, until dawn on the stone knives and bearskins computer.  If he had gotten fourteen hours of sleep in that entire time he considered himself lucky.  It was true that Vulcans needed less sleep than humans, but that was severely pushing his limits.  Also while the physical labour had not been hard, doing it day after day was not something his body was used to, and over time it had been draining.  The computer was a new lesson in frustration of course, because of the lack of technology, and his fingers seemed to cramp up just thinking about connecting circuits and screwing in bulbs.  The weather had also proven to be trying.  It had been getting close to winter while they were they there, and that had left him with his hands firmly in his pockets and shivering every morning when they arrived at work.  Of course the lack of sleep had only increased his feeling of being chilled. On top of all of that the food that they had had while there had been low in several nutrients,  no doubt due to the poor weather and soil that that time in Earth’s history was known for. 

All told Spock was physically...and emotionally exhausted.  Jim had put all his attention on Edith and Spock, though he blamed it on his half-asleep state, knew he had been jealous of their interactions.  He had never seen Jim act that way before; it seemed that the closer he got to Edith the further away he moved from Spock. They had always been professional of course, but there had been a hint of something else.  It had been hard for him to watch and realize that that something apparently meant far more to him than it did to Jim.  

With all that weighing on him it was no surprise, though no less unwanted, when Spock woke up those few hours later for his shift utterly congested.

“Heh!”

He reached out blindly for the tissues, barely managing to find one and cover his nose in time.

“Heh’keshuu!”

Keeping the tissue pressed up to his nose he struggled out of bed and into the bathroom.  It took him half an hour, and several more tissues, to get himself presentable.  Ten minutes before the start of his shift he stared at his reflection in the mirror. There were green smudges on his cheeks, but his nose was still keeping its pale colour for the time being. Spock only hoped it would stay that way. Tugging his shirt down to make sure the thick black shirt he was wearing underneath it was fully covered he made for the bridge.  

As he stepped into the turbolift he saw a crewmember that he didn’t immediately recognize.  He was about to ask what his business was on the bridge, before he remembered that he was a new transfer to command, and that he would be joining them on the bridge today.  He had to set a good example then, despite his less than optimal health. 

As if sensing an opportunity to contradict him his nose suddenly twitched and Spock barely managed to get his arm up in time to stifle into his elbow.

“Heh..higgtt!”

The boy next to him stiffened and glanced around wide eyed, totally at a loss of what to do before a quiet “bless you, sir,” was mumbled to the floor.

“Thank you, Ensign Chekov.” 

They arrived on the bridge and the day’s work began.  The shift proved uneventful, for which Spock was grateful.  He found it difficult enough to control a headache that kept him away from his proper scanner for much of the day, and his congestion increased steadily over the course of the day so several sniffles slipped passed his Vulcan control; though if Lieutenant Uhura, with her station so close to his, noticed either symptom she thankfully didn’t mention it.  Meanwhile Jim spent the shift staring listlessly at the viewscreen and Spock’s heart clenched in his side at the sight.

At break Spock asked Jim if he wished to join him for lunch, but Jim declined saying he wanted to check on repairs with Scotty.  Not having Jim to watch over then Spock detoured from the mess hall to sickbay to check on Doctor McCoy.

***

“Christine, don’t make me beg to get off this bed!”

“I told you, Leonard, you can get back to work when the last test comes back from the lab.”

“The way those boys work I could be here till next Tuesday!”

“Good,” Nurse Chapel muttered, and nodded to Spock as she brushed past him and out of the room.

McCoy caught sight of the Vulcan.

“What do you want, Spock?”

“I wished to check on your recovery.”

“It’s peachy,” McCoy answered tersely, not ready to forgive either Spock or Jim for the mess in New York.

“Is there anything you require?”

“Not unless you can get those boys in the lab to hurry up with my results,” McCoy said offhandedly, turning his body away from Spock.  

“Of course, Doctor.”  

He went to the labs as Doctor McCoy requested and got his results forwarded to sickbay with expedience. He then checked on his own staff and experiments.  Afterwards he saw no reason to return to sickbay.  Obviously McCoy’s needs were being monitored by Nurse Chapel, he could not say the same for Jim. 

Spock went to the galley to obtain food, after ducking into an auxiliary communications juncture to muffle several coughs into his sleeve, and with tray in hand he went to Jim’s cabin.

“Come in.”

“You did not eat lunch,” Spock said as he put the tray down in front of Jim, ignoring the growling of his own stomach.

Spock stood and watched as Jim listless ate half the bowl of soup before pushing the tray away.

“You should not endanger your health at this time, Jim.”

Jim clenched his fists. How could Spock talk like that?  What did he know about loss and suffering? “We aren’t like you, Spock, able to just have things roll off us.  It takes us a little longer.”

Spock nodded; he knew Vulcans did not grieve the way humans did. “I understand.  Still if there is something else I could do...Jim, let me help.”

That had been the wrong thing to say.

Jim shot up from his desk, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare say that to me, Spock!  You don’t understand!  You don’t feel love or heartache so you can’t possibly help me!”  

Anger spent for the moment Jim turned to face the wall.

“Please leave, Spock.”

Spock let his head droop, even though Jim could not see his actions. “As you wish.”

Forgoing proper procedure he left via their shared bathroom.  If his presence was disruptive he would leave Jim…and besides his nose was tickling.  

As the door slid shut Spock leaned against it. His nostrils flared and his head tilted back and Spock reached into his pocket for a tissue, and realized he was out.

“Heh…hihh-”

He pressed a finger under his nose as watery eyes searched the bathroom for a substitute.  He grabbed a handful of toilet paper and winced as it scrapped against skin that was starting to chap.

“Hih-ISSshh! HehERSchh!”  

The sneezes were half-stifled into the rough paper, and that just made his headache worse.  Spock leaned against the sink to keep his balance.  Over the pounding of his head he heard movement in Jim’s quarters.  He should have known that the moment he left to care for himself McCoy would make his move. As Spock blew his nose into the toilet paper he heard voices coming through the door.

“Bones, I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Well I’m not just going to pretend nothing happened!”

Still wishing to help them Spock came back into the room.

“Captain, Doctor, surly all of this can be dealt with in a less emotional conversation.”

“You stay out of this!” they shouted.

“Gentlemen, this is n-not-huh-URSHhh!”

The sneeze was loud and caused both Jim and McCoy to finally turn their attention to him.  Still, Spock might have been able to pass it off as some reaction to scents in the room, or an errant bit of dust, if not for the three more that followed it.

“HehISShh! Ehh’ESSuh! ASHHuu!”

“Spock?” Jim asked in concern.

McCoy had his scanner out by the second sneeze and Spock didn’t object to it.  Not that he really could with both his hands covering most of his face. He sniffled thickly and realized he needed a tissue again.

Jim seemed to sense his request and handed him one.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Spock blew his nose as McCoy finished scanning him.

“My god, man, you’re a mess! Jim, get him on the bed!”

Jim followed that order without comment.  Taking Spock gently by the shoulders and was surprised at how easily he went to the bed.

“Bones, what is it?”

McCoy frowned at his scanner. “Congestion in both lungs, possible sinus infection, and I’ve never seen his temperature so high.”

Bright blue eyes glared at Spock as McCoy realized that Spock had spent his lunch hour bothering him instead of getting treatment.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” he barked.

“You both had other concerns,” Spock answered.

“Your health is my concern! Especially when you ignore it like this!”

“My symptoms have not varied from the one’s associated with this virus, aside from being more severe than average therefore it is highly unlike-unlikely...huhushhu! Isshuu!”

The sneezes dissolved into a harsh coughing fit and Jim sat beside Spock, rubbing his back in comfort.

“Try to keep him warm, Jim, I’ll be right back.”

McCoy left and Jim pulled back the sheets and got Spock under the covers.

Again Spock went without protest.  As Jim looked him, suddenly seeming so small and fragile, he started remembering all he had put Spock through during their time in New York: little food, working hard every day to pay for supplies and the drafty roof over their heads, no sleep, because he had pushed him to keep going with the computer, a highly stressful situation by any definition.  A totally perfect scenario for getting sick by anyone’s standards, and when he had Spock had then taken it upon himself to ignore his own needs to help his friends. And what he had gotten in return for his efforts was anger and condescension.  Jim wanted to fall through the floor and die of shame.

“Spock, what I said earlier, I’m so sorry, you do know how to help and I’ve been too…selfish to notice. You’re important too you know and your well-being is crucial to me.”

“I will endeavour to remember that,” Spock muttered, his eyes closed, his body surrendering to much needed sleep.

He had answered as an officer to his commander, but that wasn’t how Jim meant it at all.

“Spock, I-”

“You should not stay, Jim, I wouldn’t wish you to catch this from me.”

Jim fell silent and tucked the blankets more securely around Spock and let him fall asleep.

Spock didn’t stir when McCoy returned some minutes later and pressed several hyposprays into his shoulder.

As McCoy put his supplies away Jim looked at him and he nodded in understanding.  Their own argument was forgotten, their friend needed them.

“Bones, will he be all right?”

“Don’t worry, Jim, between the two of us we’ll get him well again.”

Jim vowed that he would, Spock deserved nothing less