#spock searching for books just for kirk gives me life

[laney-rockin]

In Wrath of Khan, Spock gifts Kirk "A Tale of Two Cities" in an actual physical copy of the book [very vintage for the 23rd century].

THAT GOT ME THINKING-

How many times did Spock gift Kirk a physical book? Did he restlessly scour for hours trying to find an old copy of a book that he knew Kirk would adore?

I can only imagine Spock, a logical and very composed Vulcan, going slightly insane trying to find bound books just so he can see his captain light up with a smile as Spock gifts it to him.

Which- might I add- is an adorable picture to paint in one's head.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 2) Chapter Sixteen

Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Fog of Fear

Summary: Hengist is a fear monster, but (Y/N) has sway over emotions. They won't be beaten easily.

            As everyone stared at Hengist after the knowledge of his coming from Rigel IV one year ago and the mass murder occurring that same time in the past, Hengist chuckled nervously.

            “Well, many people come from Rigel IV. It’s not a crime,” he said.

            “No, but what we’re investigating is,” said Kirk.

            “Would you take the stand, Mr. Hengist?” said (Y/N).

            “Why, I will not,” cried Hengist.

            “Mr. Hengist,” said Jaris curtly.

            “Prefect, this has gone far enough,” said Hengist indignantly, but his nervous energy gave away his bluff. “I will not take the stand.”

            “I can appreciate your position, sir,” said Spock. “You are in charge of civil disturbances locally. If you are the entity for which we search, what better position from which to kill with impunity?”

            “And just after you left Jaris’s house, we discovered the murder weapon was missing,” realized Bones.

            “And you were still gone when Lieutenant Tracy was murdered. No one can account for your whereabouts,” said (Y/N).

            “An entity which feeds on fear and terror would find a perfect hunting ground on Argelius, a planet without violence, where the inhabitants are as peaceful as sheep,” added Spock. “The entity would be like a hungry wolf in that fold.”

            Hengist scoffed. “Gentlemen, I know something of the law. You’re engaging in sheer speculation.”

            “Perhaps,” said Kirk. “Mr. Spock, the murder weapon.”

            “Computer, report on analysis of Exhibit A,” said Spock.

            “Exhibit A on visual,” said the computer. “Composition of blade, boridium. Composition of handle, murinite. Details of carving on handle conform to folk art forms indicating place of origin.”

            “Specify point of origin,” commanded Spock.

            “Artifact produced by hill people of Argus River region, planet Rigel IV,” reported the computer.

            “Now, then, Mr. Hengist,” said Kirk. “What do you have to stay?”

            Hengist jumped to his feet and ran towards the door. Scotty and Bones grabbed at him, but he pushed them back. He kicked Kirk into the wall and then went for (Y/N), who was blocking his way, but they dodged his attack and tripped him. Hengist stumbled to his feet, and before he could regain his senses, Kirk punched him, sending him to the floor unconscious.

            Spock felt his pulse and raised an eyebrow. “He’s dead.”

            “But that’s impossible,” said Kirk.

            Suddenly, the lights began flashing, and a deranged voice echoed through the room. “Redjac! Redjac! Redjac! Redjac! Redjac!” Hengist, for who else could it be, laughed wildly.

            Spock jumped up and tested the computer controls. “The computer won’t respond to these controls. The entity is unquestioningly controlling it.”

            “And the computer controls the ship,” realized (Y/N).

            “Redjac! Redjac! Redjac!” jeered Hengist.

            “Scotty, give me a hand,” said Bones, pulling Hengist’s body up onto a chair.

            “It’s no use, Captain, the bypass circuits are locked,” said Kirk.

            “Spock, can you turn off the audio?” murmured (Y/N), flinching as they felt Hengist’s presence surround them. It was an imposing force of anger and hatred that inspired unbidden terror within them.

            Spock’s eyes softened at their clear discomfort, and he hurriedly switched the audio off so Hengist’s jeers were silenced.

            “Captain,” gasped Scotty, pointing to the screen. It swirled with clouds of color. “What’s happening, Captain? What does it mean?”

            “It means…that thing can control the entire operation of the ship, including the life-support systems,” realized Kirk.

            “You mean it could kill us all?” said Bones sharply.

            “Indeed, it will try, but not immediately,” said Spock. “We know it feeds on fear and terror. There are nearly 440 humans aboard this ship. Surely, it will try to create fear before it kills.”

            Kirk pressed the comm button. “All hands, this is the Captain. Stay at your posts. Remain calm. Captain out.” He looked up. “Bones, what’s the sedative situation?”

            “I’ve got some stuff that would tranquilize an active volcano,” said Bones.

            “Good. Start distribution immediately,” said Kirk.

            Spock turned to (Y/N). “Do you want a sedative to damper your reaction to Hengist’s presence?”

            (Y/N) shook their head. “No. If I can sense him, I can try to stop him.”

            Spock furrowed his brow to argue, but he saw (Y/N)’s determined face. They weren’t going to back down. So, in respect to that, he just nodded. “Very well. Alert me to any changes.”

            “Spock, (L/N), with me,” said Kirk. “We’re getting him out of the computers. (L/N), if he gets near us, let me know.” As they walked, Kirk said, “Spock, don’t you have a compulsory scan unit built into the computer banks?”

            “Yes, we do, Captain, but with the entity in control—” began Spock.

            “Well, aren’t there certain mathematical problems which simply cannot be solved?” asked Kirk.

            “Indeed. If we could focus the computer’s attention on one of them…” Spock nodded as he came up with a plan.

            “That would do it,” agreed (Y/N).

            As they traveled up in the elevator, they braced themselves as it turned off and on and its life-support malfunctioned. Luckily, they managed to get to the bridge. However, it was clear Hengist was learning to control the ship quickly. He was trying to scare the Enterprise officers.

            “Captain, the life-support system override jammed,” said Sulu urgently.

            “Alright, man your station, Mr. Sulu,” said Kirk as Spock crouched and opened a panel below the Bridge controls.

            “Lieutenant (L/N). (L/N),” called Hengist’s voice, echoing creepily. It needed strength, and (Y/N)’s emotions would give him more power, so he was focusing on scaring them. “You and all aboard this ship are about to die.”

            (Y/N) took a deep breath to remain calm. Hengist was trying to get to them, and if they were going to keep the ship safe, they needed to stop him from growing stronger.

            “Cut that thing off,” ordered Kirk.

            “This is the first time I heard a malfunction threaten us,” remarked Sulu in confusion.

            “Man your post, Mr. Sulu.” Kirk couldn’t risk a panic ensuing. “Prepare your manual overrides. You may need them.”

            “What’s the situation, Spock?” asked (Y/N), crouching by him.

            “Normal environmental levels have been restored,” said Spock. “But it will not last long, a few hours at best.”

            “Let’s hope that’s enough time,” said (Y/N).

            “Let’s get at it,” said Kirk.

            “What’s going on, Captain?” asked Sulu.

            “Never mind, Mr. Sulu,” said Kirk.

            Nurse Chapel walked into the room. “I have the tranquilizers, sir.”

            “Everyone, including yourself,” said Kirk.

            “You can’t stop me now,” crowed Hengist cruelly. “It will do you no good! I control all circuits! You cannot silence me! You cannot reach me!”

            To prove a point, (Y/N) let their anger radiate out into the room, forcing Hengist to quiet for a moment. He couldn’t feed on that power. And it likely burned him as much as his burned (Y/N).

            “Spock?” asked (Y/N).

            “I need a little bit of time,” said Spock.

            “Soon all control will be restored to me,” cried Hengist, trying to recover from (Y/N)’s bought of anger and force them to be scared to gain some power.

            “If you destroy this ship, you destroy yourself,” spat Kirk.

            Hengist’s crazed laughter filled the room. “I am without ending! I have existed from the dawn of time, and I shall live beyond its end! In the meantime, I shall feed, and this time I do not need a knife! I have an empath here, and their emotions will feed me until I have the strength to send all of you into a horrible death!” he cackled.

            “(L/N), focus on nothing but remaining calm,” ordered Kirk.

            “Already on it, Captain,” said (Y/N). They were not going to let Hengist get the best of them.

            “Captain! Whoever he is, he sure talks gloomy,” said Sulu, laughing as the sedative coursed through him. At least those sources of fear for Hengist were eliminated.

            “Ready, Captain,” said Spock.

            “Implement,” said Kirk.

            “Computer, this is a Class-A compulsory directive,” said Spock. “Compute, to the last digit, the value of pi.”

            “No!” cried Hengist as the computer’s controls were directed to the incalculable command. “No! No! No! No!”

            “The value of pi doesn’t end,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Good distraction, Spock.”

            “The Argelians will be the first to panic. Let’s get back to the briefing room,” said Spock.

l

            “Well, sir?” giggled Scotty as the drug affected him and the rest of the group in the briefing room.

            “There is resistance, but the directive is succeeding,” said Spock. “Bank after bank is turning to the problem.”

            “If you drive it out of the computer, it’ll just have to go somewhere else,” pointed out Bones.

            “How are you doing?” asked Kirk.

            “I’ve almost finished tranquilizing people. Just Jaris and me left,” said Bones.

            Hengist’s laugh echoed around the briefing room.

            “Complete computer control, Captain,” reported Spock. “The entity has fled.”

            “Yes, but where to?” murmured Kirk.

            (Y/N) jolted as they felt Hengist’s presence in the room. “Captain, he’s here—!”

            Hengist, back in his physical body, jumped up, grabbed his knife, and pulled (Y/N) into a tight hold. The knife rested on their throat. He was breaking his pattern of attacking women, but the sustenance he could get from (Y/N)’s emotions were enough. Not to mention, Hengist was desperate.

            “I’ll kill them!” cried Hengist. “I’ll kill them, keep back!”

            “Get off me!” growled (Y/N), grabbing Hengist’s hand.

            With a strength of mind that was impressive even for a Celian, (Y/N) forced their way past his anger and hatred and pushed happiness onto him. Hengist survived on fear, and the opposite of it weakened him. Crying out, he stumbled back. (Y/N) pushed him away, wincing as part of his anger rebounded onto their own empathic senses. Bones and Kirk jumped up and injected Hengist’s body with the tranquilizer to make him weak enough to handle.

            Spock caught and steadied (Y/N). His hands itched to take ahold of their mind and try to check for serious distress, but he wouldn’t cross such an intimate boundary. While Bones and Kirk handled sending Hengist into deep space at a wide dispersion so even in his non-physical form he could never become really sentient again, Spock guided (Y/N) to a seat.

            “Are you alright?” asked Spock.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, but I really need a break now.”

            “Well, we’ve got five or six hours before the tranquilizer wears off,” said Kirk, reentering the room. He glanced around at the high, laughing officers and Argelians. “And I don’t think we’re going to get much done in the meantime.”

            (Y/N) looked at Spock. “Do you want to risk trying to go to the library again or do you think we’ll encounter another crime?”

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “Highly unlikely.”

            “Good, good. I can’t handle any more excitement,” said (Y/N). They stood. “Ready?”

            Spock nodded. “Yes.”

            Kirk watched them go. Well, I might be stuck here with silly officers, but at least they’re having fun. Looking around at his high colleagues, he sighed. Still…

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

[jesbelle-writes]

The Gift

After his failed attempt to reach kohlinar,  Spock found that the rhythms of life aboard the Enterprise were somehow different.  He had reached a hard-won détente between his Human emotions and his Vulcan logic, and it cast a new light on even the most familiar of rituals – such as the one now playing out in Kirk’s quarters.

“So Bones – your birthday’s coming up...”  Kirk opened this conversation just as he had every year about this time.

“I don’t want a big fuss,” said McCoy, with the same frown as usual.

“How about a little fuss then?” asked Kirk, the customary amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I suppose I could tolerate it, if I had to,” came the reply.

And so some small celebration would be agreed upon.  A place and time would be chosen for a quiet round of drinks; Scotty, Chapel, Uhura, Sulu, and (now that was no longer “the kid”) Chekov would be invited; and they’d all spend a quiet evening getting mildly inebriated and swapping reminiscences.  Spock would attend, of course.  McCoy was his friend, after all.

But this year, Spock couldn’t shake the feeling that something special was in order – something to acknowlege the shift he sensed in his relationship with McCoy.  He couldn’t really name the nature of that shift – it was different somehow to the way his other relationships had changed – but he felt a need to take some kind of action nonetheless.

He wanted to give McCoy a birthday present.

His mother had explained gift-giving to him when he was a child.  She had provided him with an exhaustive lesson on the rituals and obligations involved, including a list of the types of gifts that would be considered appropriate to each occasion.

“But sometimes,” she said, “a person wants to give a gift from the heart – something that shows how much regard they have for another person. The best gifts on these occasions are something the recipient can experience.  A happy memory is worth a thousand objects.”

Spock understood that these “little fusses” that Jim put together were exactly that – another in a collection of happy memories for McCoy.  Spock wanted to give McCoy something like that.

The bulk of his meditation time was dedicated to solving the puzzle of how to do that.

He considered the activities that McCoy engaged in during his rare breaks from work. He spent the bulk of his time simply “hanging out” with Spock or Jim or Christine.  He enjoyed reading a genre of books he called “dimestore trash” that Spock had no idea how to even begin to obtain.  And he enjoyed music.

Music seemed promising.  McCoy’s tastes were eclectic, but Spock had a good ear and he was reasonably certain that he could find something that would please McCoy.

It was in this frame of mind that he noticed the humming.

There was a little snippet of a tune that McCoy hummed when he was trying to unravel any particularly thorny problem.  Spock had heard it hundreds of times when sharing laboratory space with McCoy.  It had long ago been relegated to the background noises of the lab.

It was a pretty tune, and obviously a favorite.  He asked Dr. Chapel about it that afternoon.

“You mean the one that goes hum de dum dum dum hum de dum dum dum?”  She mangled it completely, but it was still recognizable as the same tune, if only barely.

“Yes,” said Spock.  “Do you know the title of the piece?”

“Sorry, no.  I asked him about it once.  He got really self-conscious and said it was just something his mother used to sing.  Then I didn’t hear it for about a month.”

Jim was no help.  “I don’t spend much time in the lab,” he pointed out.  “And his mom was some kind of music historian, so she probably knew a lot of obscure songs.”

Spock made a recording of himself playing the tune on his lyre and fed it into the ship’s computer, but it matched nothing in the database.  Finally, he sent the recording to the library at Memory Alpha and waited.

The answer came almost fourteen hours later – a song from the mid-twentieth century, lost for nearly 200 years before it was discovered in an archive on the North American continent at a place called Muscle Shoals.

The tune was sweet, and the song was short.  But the lyrics...

If Spock had searched for years, he couldn’t have found a song more suitable. He decided that the piece should be performed live.

“It’s beautiful, Spock.  Where did you find it?” asked Uhura.  “It’s just so… Dr. McCoy, isn’t it?”

“I believe it is a favorite of his,” said Spock.  “I would like to play it at his birthday.  I was hoping that you would agree to sing it.”

“I’d love to, but I think you should do it.  It would fit your range.”

“My musical range, perhaps.  It is a very emotional piece,” said Spock.

They practiced the song every night.

McCoy’s birthday was in the forward observation lounge.  It was busy tonight, and when Spock picked up his lyre and Uhura stood next to him a hush fell over the crowd.  

“If I needed you Would you come to me, Would you come to me, And ease my pain?” sang Uhura.

“If you needed me, I would come to you, I’d swim the seas For to ease your pain.”

“In the night forlorn The morning’s born And the morning shines With the lights of love.”

Spock spared a glance toward McCoy, but Jim was seated between them, blocking his line of sight.

“You will miss sunrise If you close your eyes And that would break My heart in two.”

Spock tried twice more to catch a glimpse of McCoy to no avail.  It wasn’t until the final chorus that he saw him.  

McCoy looked stunned, overcome, but with what emotion, Spock couldn’t tell. There were, however, most definitely tears in his eyes.

The song ended to enthusiastic applause and several people came to pay their compliments – mostly to Uhura.  McCoy was among them.  He took Uhura’s hand in his and said, “Thank you so much, Nyota.  That was lovely.”  He nodded toward Spock.  “You played that… very well – as usual, Spock.”  He raised his glass toward the others. “I want to thank y’all for coming tonight.  I know the night’s still young, but I’m not so much, and I’ve just had a week and a half of long shifts.  So if y’all’ll excuse me, I’m going to head on out and get some shut-eye before I have to deal with the next torn rotator cuff or targ bite or what-have-you.”

There followed the usual well-wishing and congratulations as McCoy left.  Spock, feeling unsettled and having no desire to feel unsettled in public, picked up his lyre and retired to his own quarters…

… where he was surprised to find Dr. McCoy leaning against his desk.

“I used my medical code,” said McCoy.  “I hope you don’t mind.  I promise I’m not planning to make a habit of it.”

Spock nodded. “I apolo--”

“I’m sor--” McCoy shook his head.  “You got nothing to be sorry for.  Just… let me say my piece and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”  McCoy took a deep breath.  “I… what you did tonight, Spock – that was the nicest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.  I couldn’t say this with a bunch of people around, but I need you to know what it meant to me.

“My mama used to sing me that song when I’d have bad dreams.  She’d come sit on my bed and… stroke my hair… and sing that song.  And it worked every time.

“She sang a lot of songs.  She had a beautiful voice and she played guitar.  She made a lot of recordings of those songs, and after she died, I’d play them all and pretend she was still there – just in the other room, singing.  Well, I was just kid...  

“Anyway she never got around to recording that one.  So I’d sing it to myself when the bad dreams woke me up.  I forgot most of the lyrics.  I forgot what it sounded like when she sang it.  I forgot what her fingers felt like in my hair.  But it always made me feel better.

“I guess I got used to singing it.  It was the tune I’d whistle in the dark, and it became the thing I turned to whenever the going got even a little rough.

“That’s what you gave me tonight.  You gave me back her song.  I don’t have words for that.”  McCoy swiped at the tear that had fallen onto his cheek.  “If you weren’t a Vulcan I’d hug you.”

Spock didn’t know what to say.  He was experiencing a rush of emotions too powerful and too complex for him to even name, let alone express, not that he wished to express them.  He didn’t even want to experience them.

Did he?

“And on that note,” said McCoy, standing up,  “I’ll just see myself out.”

“Leonard.”

McCoy had nearly reached the door when Spock put out his hand to stop him.  He took him by the wrist, his fingers curling around the warm, soft skin above McCoy’s pulse.

The sensation cut through some of the turmoil in Spock’s mind.  This was… good?  It was… fitting.

It was right because Spock had wanted to touch McCoy, hadn’t he?  He’d wanted to give a gift that would touch McCoy’s heart.

And now he was touching his skin and that was also what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

He pulled McCoy closer, put his arms around him, held him.  And holding was also what he’d wanted.

And then McCoy’s arms wrapped around his waist…

...and there.  This is what it is to fit, thought Spock.  This is what it is to be exactly where he belonged.

McCoy drew back a little, enough to look Spock in the eye.  “You sure?”

Spock nodded.  “I am now.”

And then he kissed him.

Just a little note -- the song is “If I Needed You” by Townes Van Zandt.  I’ve used it in fics before because it gives me serious Bones vibes.  I actually had this scene in mind for one of those fics, but ended up using something else, so now you get it here.

[theliterateape]

Six Fictional Characters I Aspire to Resemble in Practice

by Don Hall

When I was nine years old I wanted to be like Kwai Chang Caine from the television series Kung Fu. Caine was stoic. He travelled the West in search of his half brother and along the way, every week, helped people he met with his mix of quiet focus and badass martial arts mastery. He had amazing decorative scars on his forearms from his training.

I was nine so my takeaway was less the Taoist focus and more on the roundhouse kicks. Just north of the housing project we lived in was another housing project that had been mostly built and abandoned so I would go there after school and pretend the bad guys in my head were the sections of drywall erected and kick and punch holes like I was him. I think I believed I could absorb the techniques of ancient Chinese secrets through watching him kick ass. What the fuck did I know? I was nine.

Secondary to my ascension as Shaolin Monk in the Old West was my lack of genuine male role models. I had my mom (not male), my grandfather (WWII veteran, retired oil rigger, darkly hysterical), and a stepfather who was vain and violent (mostly to my mom but almost as frequently to me). I looked to the idiot box and movie theater for examples in the absence of real world guidance.

No longer in thrall with the kung fu I never mastered, I still find inspiration from characters in popular culture who provide aspirational qualities.

Ted Lasso

A fairly recent addition, Jason Sudeikis’s over-the-top optimist soccer coach left me feeling hopeful. The character seems, at first, to be so cheerful and oblivious that he is easily written off as one-note. As the first season unfolds it becomes apparent that his optimism is rooted in a belief that people are basically good because to believe otherwise is to acquiesce to the void of despair.

He is his own ray of sunshine and simply refuses to give in to cynicism. 

Samwise Gamgee

He’s not the smartest hobbit in the Shire. He’s not the most capable. He’s not well-travelled and his daily wants are as simple as he is but when the fucking rubber meets the road, he is the bravest of all of them.

Samwise is that avatar of what genuine friendship looks like. He is solid like bedrock and understands in a fundamental way that what he lacks in grace or wit is balanced by his indefatigable tenacity to keep putting one hairy foot in front of the other no matter the cost.

Every character aside from Gandalf fiddles with giving up the quest but not Sam. His belief in goodness, in ordinary pleasures, in the joys of living, prevent him from even flirting with the idea of laying down.

Spock

I always loved Star Trek but I didn’t really understand Spock until a few years ago. I’ve always been more of Kirk — emotional, headstrong, impulsive, risky. Along that path I came to realize that a lot of my greatest achievements came from that approach but an equal amount of my worst mistakes could be attributed to it as well.

Then came a self-imposed Trek marathon. I watched dozens of the original series and, for the first time, I understood why Spock was so important. Spock was thoughtful, stoic, and logical. His approach was from rationality although his character is from a race so emotionally charged that they built an entire culture around the compartmentalization of emotions.

I’ll always be Kirk but I want to be more like Spock.

Bugs Bunny

It is the balls out anarchy of Bugs that inspires. Everything is funny, nothing is sacred. 

Society is so filled with anxiety and outrage that actively refusing to take most of it seriously is almost a necessity for staying away from nibbling at your toes and mumbling conspiracy theories under your breath behind a Dunkin’ dumpster.

When in doubt, find the funny and laugh in the face of despair.

Jules Winfield

No, I don’t want emulate this Sam Jackson/Quentin Tarantino creation’s hit man skills. I find a certain solace in his ability to examine his life and truly see who he is and decide to make changes.

“See, now I’m thinking: maybe it means you’re the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here… he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. And I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.”

Rocky Balboa

I love Rocky Balboa. I love the story, spanning over eight films. I love his propensity to take a punch and still get up, no matter what. I love the fact that the goal so often in his arc is not about winning but about going the distance.

Rocky is self deprecating, self reflective, and can always find that extra gas in the tank when things get tough. Most important, Rocky is unashamed of his abiding love for the people in his life.

I think stories are there to teach us as well as entertain. The lessons we choose to learn from our own experiences are invaluable (Fail as many times in life as you can and learn from the failures). The beauty of the billions of stories available to us in books, television, and film is that each of us can walk for a moment in the shoes of characters living lives we will never experience and gain some understanding in those journeys.

[xcziel]

Multi-Fandom Slash Fic Recs: Long reads for your quarantine needs

Was gonna add my own 2 cents for each rec, but it got long and I'll never post if I have to think about it anymore - may edit to add more commentary. Suffice it to say, these are all great long reads, not much angst, some smutty some not, highly improbable levels of things-working-out because it's fanfic and that's what it's for. Feel free to troll through my AO3 Bookmarks as well.

The One Where They're Stars on HGTV Series

earlgreytea68

Inception: Arthur/Eames

AU, 466,359 words 9 works Complete

Summary:

"Have you ever seen "Love It or List It"? In which Arthur is the real estate agent and Eames is the designer.

Eames is certain that they will excel at being celebrity judges.

Arthur is not so sure.

But then, that's usually how their relationship goes."

My 2 cents: Just what it says on the tin: Arthur and Eames are HGTV stars of a show which pits straightlaced realtor Arthur against flamboyant designer Eames, but the new show they're embarking on will give them a chance to work together. Arthur has his reservations - not least among them the surprise arrival of Eames' superficially charming ex. Eames, of course, has all the confidence in the world. Featuring fun design challenges, mildly insecure Athur, fluffy confidant Ariadne, reality show 'backstage' melodrama, Arthur becomes a meme, Eames fantastical decorating schemes, a Matt Bomer lookalike complete with fedora (trilby), and acres of gauzy romantic fluff.

We Begin Again Series

katherynefromphilly

Merlin: Merlin/Arthur

316,197 words 4 works

Summary:

"For many long years Merlin waited.

For the other part of his soul, for the other half of his life. He was born to serve Arthur. So that meant he was also born to wait. Even if it took a thousand years. Even if the wait seemed never to end.

Until one day, suddenly, it did.

When Arthur stumbles from the Lake of Avalon 1,500 years after his death, he finds a world unlike the one he knew. Faced with the loss of everyone he loved, and the threat of impending prophecy, Arthur must learn what it means to be not just a king, but the Once and Future King. Merlin does all he can to guide him, even as he struggles to hide his love for his king, and his fear of losing him again.

Story includes sass, banter, horseplay, & True Love."

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail Series

owlet

MCU: Steve/Bucky

264,438 words 8 works

Summary:

"The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Integration into adult human social dynamics requires attention and effort. Especially with this bunch of damaged bozos.

(A series of interconnected one-shots.)"

2 cents: Post-Winter Soldier Bucky works his own way through. Recovery fic from Bucky's POV, not shippy in the beginning (unless you consider MCU-canon-level co-dependency shippy I guess) and with added 'Avengers living in the Tower' flavor

The Sonnet Series

nekosmuse, afrocurl

X-Men: Charles/Erik

AU, 196,721 words 3 works

Summary:

"Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google."

Hollywood 'verse Series

clio_jlh

Star Trek AOS: Kirk/McCoy

80,063 words 7 works

Summary:

"From Variety, June 2008:

Pavel Chekov ("Charlie X") and Gaila ("Bread and Circuses") have joined the cast of small budget drama "That Which Survives," funded by Fleet's indie arm Academy and supervised by Nyota Uhura.

The debut feature from longtime script doctor Leonard McCoy, former show runner on sitcom "Three to Tango," centers on a college student coping with his father's terminal cancer. Chekov plays the son, Gaila the nurse. The father is yet to be cast.

Also attached are director James T. Kirk and producer Spock, the team behind the blockbuster spy-girl franchise starring Carol Marcus, the latest of which, "A Taste of Armageddon," opened last month.

(A modern-day Hollywood AU.)"

A Curious Carriage of Crystal and Cold

Etharei

X-Men: Charles/Erik

AU, 114,261 words

Summary:

"Charles, a miner from a poor village in the countryside, saves the life of Erik Lehnsherr, scion of a successful business family and the richest man on the planet Eisen. Charles is a telepath and somewhat anxious about it, while Erik abstains from relationships because the lights flicker and doors open and electronics vibrate when he gets too excited.

Also featuring a long-suffering sister, a foul-mouthed bodyguard, and a best friend with a heart that is definitely not gold.

In which there are princes, spaceships, long journeys, and old secrets uncovered. (An AU sci-fi fairytale)"

Shadowlord and Pirate King Series

Footloose, mushroomtale

Merlin: Merlin/Arthur

AU, 216,060 words 3 works

Summary:

"A fast ship, a good crew, a treasure, a Clan to lead -- that's all Arthur Pendragon has ever wanted. He sits on the Council, he supports his father's kingship, and he keeps an eye on the Imperial Conglomerate when they come too close to Pirate space.

One day the Conglomerate infiltrates the Clans and poisons the King. Arthur must search for a cure to keep his father alive and the Clans from civil war.

An escape route, a sharp knife, a target, the shadows at his command -- that's all Merlin has ever needed. He fulfills his assignments, he uses the Sterling to sustain his once-royal House in their exile, and wages a private war against the Imperial Conglomerate.

When he learns of an elaborate plot to assassinate him, Merlin does the opposite of what's expected. He flees onto a Pirate ship.

There's a saying among the Pirates: that one's fate is written in the stars. Destiny will always set to rights what has been made wrong.

Arthur and Merlin know that they were meant for the other from the moment they meet. They can feel it from across the galaxies separating them. Nothing can stop them from being together or from fulfilling an ancient prophecy."

Children, Wake Up Series

hollycomb

Star Wars sequels: Kylo Ren/Armitage Hux

non-canon after Force Awakens, 608,083 words 3 works

Warning for torture and past sexual assault (offscreen)

Summary:

"Hux follows orders and loses his way.

Barricaded in the darkness of Snoke's citadel as part of his final training, Kylo Ren senses a disturbance in the Force: General Hux in great pain, captured and tortured by a faction of radical traitors within the First Order. Ren seeks Snoke's counsel and finds him gone. He knows this is a test, and that he must resist the urge to assist the General. And yet."

2 cents: I don't even know. I started just to look at it and then somehow I couldn't stop. Two characters I find wholly irredeemable given back story enough to make me suspend disbelief just enough to enjoy the fic - now that's talent. Features background Finn/Rey and Luke/Wedge if you care about that, and generally has everyone written in a positive light except Snoke, including a surprising handful of of First Order refugees. It's weirdly not at all a dark fic, despite the premise and extreme levels of Force Ex Machina.

snipers solve 99% of all problems

silentwalrus

Fullmetal Alchemist: post-canon gen

HP crossover, 170,861 words, 59 chapters so far, WIP

Summary:

"Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”"

2 cents: Neither of these are my fandom, but I have read all the HP books, so I could get the gist. While jonesing for an update, I ended up bingeing FMA: Brotherhood and I have no regrets. Ed working alchemy-as-science and trying to translate wizardry into scientific alchemical workarounds is all I never knew I wanted. Team Amestris takes JKR's creation to school, with all the swearing you'd expect sprinkled throughout for ambiénce.

[hellodarjeeling]

Title: Middle Watch

Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series

Rating: K

Warning: None

Tags: James T. Kirk, Spock

Summary: Post ST:TMP. Spock visits Kirk’s quarters, curious about the emotions he’s so newly embraced after his encounter with V’Ger.

Notes: My first time posting ST rambles.

James T. Kirk sat at the desk in his quarters, surrounded by stacks of old books and documents from previous missions, catching up on a bit of reading that he simply hadn't had time for until now. In between learning the new ship, the whole business with V’Ger, losing both Ilia and Will Decker, and Spock’s sudden and dramatic reappearance, he felt he only just had the opportunity to catch his breath. Here, in the quiet of his own cabin, for a few hours at least, he could temporarily forget the duties and chaos that awaited him just beyond the sleekly paneled walls.

He heard the door open behind him and the sound of boots crossing the threshold. He glanced over to check the hour; Dr. McCoy was late this evening.

“What’s it tonight, Bones?” he asked, not bothering to look up from the page. Kirk suspected the good doctor had come with one of his more palatable remedies. “Finagle’s Folly?”

His query met with silence, he turned to see Spock standing just inside the doorway. Kirk immediately closed the book he’d been thumbing through and stood up.

“Spock!”

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” Spock answered, taking a few steps farther into the room. Despite the Starfleet uniform he still looked somewhat out of place, as if he were merely visiting the Enterprise on some diplomatic mission, and would depart once mutual gains had been negotiated. The Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back and stood quietly as the pneumatic door closed after him, plunging the room into a heady silence.

Kirk didn't mean to stare but found he couldn’t tear his eyes away; he still couldn’t believe Spock was truly back aboard the ship, again at his side. Spock had refused an offer to return to Vulcan, where he might continue the Kolinahr discipline. He didn't completely understand, but acknowledged the importance it held for Spock; for what other reason would he leave Starfleet behind, wish to exorcise his human half and the emotions it engendered?

Spock.

It hurt him to think of Spock suffering in any capacity. A small part of Kirk believed with disquieting certainty he himself had been a source of that pain.

A moment passed between them, one of comfortable newness, of old friends who suddenly find themselves once again in each other’s lives after an extended separation. Kirk felt warm affection bubble up inside him, brightening his face with a smile; he gestured toward the berth.

“Please, sit down.”

Spock acquiesced and crossed the room to sit on the bed’s edge, his hands folded in his lap. Kirk returned to his seat but turned the chair so that his full attention was trained on his guest. A shimmery chime filled the room as an antique timepiece nestled among the books struck the half hour.

“It’s late, Spock. We humans typically sleep at this time.”

Spock’s eyes cut through the room’s low light like two bright stars.

"I know you to keep late hours." His eyes flicked to the myriad bound volumes crowding the shelves beside the bed. The titles were varied; Spock suspected they were borrowed from other crew members. "I see you still enjoy reading in your spare time. You are what some would consider a 'creature of habit'."

"You know me quite well, Spock," Kirk chuckled. "I'd say even more than I do myself."

Spock's face softened. In the quiet light he appeared more and more the remarkable individual Kirk had come to know so well and less the stranger who'd boarded the ship in their time of need. I’ve missed this, Kirk thought.

“I confess to having heard your thoughts during my time on Vulcan," Spock said suddenly. Kirk shifted in his seat, surprised by this revelation. Vulcan was light-years away from Earth, too far a distance for any conventional mind-link to span.

“How is that possible?”

Spock's brow arched in the way it did when met with a peculiar conundrum. He shook his head, obviously perplexed.

“Unknown. However, I distinctly felt your thoughts during the culmination of the ritual."

Kirk looked at him openly, searching. A million questions tumbled in his mind. One formed into coherent thought.

“Only then?"

Spock returned his gaze with such intensity that Kirk broke contact, shifting the conversation.

"And your task on Vulcan? The Masters—"

"My task," Spock stated quietly, "is complete. I have found my answers."

Kirk settled back into his seat with a sense of relief. The past few years without him were challenging and he had no desire to live through more of the same. He needed Spock by his side, needed him in his life. Spock watched closely as Kirk examined his hands, shaking his head.

"After the mission, when you left, I—” He sighed heavily. “Somehow I ended up behind a desk..."

Kirk rested a hand on the table beside him, feeling the smooth material under his fingertips. Accepting the promotion had been a mistake, he knew now. He was never meant to give up command. Hadn’t Bones tried to warn him? His eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stark modernity of his surroundings. Without Decker he’d leaned on Scott to help familiarize himself with the ship’s new designs and functions. Beneath the shiny new refurbishment was the same old Enterprise, pulsing with her powerful, understated grace. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. He looked again at Spock. Never meant to give this up.

"I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you back, Spock."

The Vulcan felt a familiar dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He knew it to be the unnamed, persistent longing that tainted every interaction with the humans he’d moved among while aboard the Enterprise. After many years he finally understood what it was that had pained him for so long, pain enough to turn his back on the only place he’d truly considered home. That understanding had led to wanting, needing.

Having was not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. It was not logical, but was often true.

Spock stood suddenly, and Kirk had the fleeting impression he meant to approach him, but Spock had instead turned toward the door, his hands once again clasped behind his back. He took a few slow steps to leave but stopped, his eyes to the floor.

Often, but not always.

"I had hoped, in light of recent developments..."

That well remembered voice was cautious, careful. Kirk watched as the Vulcan faced him. Their eyes met and Kirk felt the overwhelming pull of raw emotion wash over him as it radiated across the room. He raised his arms and held them out in invitation, beckoning Spock over.

“Come here,” he said softly.

Spock slowly approached him, his eyes locked onto Kirk’s. He stopped as he reached the chair; he scarcely seemed to be breathing. Kirk looked up at him for a moment, taking in every detail of the face he’d memorized long ago. He stood, rising to his full height, gazing into the melancholic eyes before him.

Spock was so thin—time on Vulcan had whittled the flesh from his cheeks. Kirk reached out and rested his hands on Spock’s shoulders. He could feel the toll the Kolinahr had taken through the tunic fabric. Those shoulders, angular before, were sharper. Where Kirk has gained a few pounds from life behind a desk, Spock had lost them.

Oh.

Kirk slipped his arms around the lean waist and settled them into the small of his back, pulling Spock close. The distance between them disappeared as they pressed comfortably together. For a moment Spock seemed frozen with indecision, but allowed himself to relax into the embrace, resting his arms across Kirk’s back.

“Jim.”

That name. Speaking that name after years of restraint was a homecoming. Spock let its weight rest on his tongue, savoring the taste.

“Jim,” he said again, with reverence befitting a prayer.

Kirk hugged him tighter, burying his face into the fabric at the Vulcan’s neck. He imagined he could smell the spiced Vulcan breeze lingering on Spock’s skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.

Spock’s fingers tensed, pressing into the warm flesh beneath their breadth. It knows that it needs, but not what. He inclined his head, resting his chin against Kirk’s temple, listening to the steady thrum of the human heart he'd so nearly broken with his pilgrimage to Gol.

T’hy’la! he thought. Jim!

After years of needing, he had finally accepted what it was he sought. Of all the strange and wonderful worlds discovered during their historic mission, none could compare to the one he found himself inhabiting in that small ship's cabin, lost amid the vast expanse of space.

He was exactly where he belonged.

He was home.

[fangirling-and-lovin-it]

I Dream In Colour chapter 1: In Any Universe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335819/chapters/48217375

Jim sat up suddenly in bed, panting, his eyes wide open. 

Even in the darkness of his quarters, the colours in front of his eyes were almost blinding. He screwed them shut, opened them again and blinked slowly, waiting for the bright sea of colour to lessen. 

Shore leave would begin tomorrow, and he knew now more than ever where he needed to go. It was a gut feeling. But he wasn’t sure how well he’d be received and what would happen next. 

Lights out,” he said as he laid down again, hoping that the darkness would stay dark long enough to get some sleep. 

******

“You’re not coming?” McCoy asked him at the Starbase the next day. The Enterprise had docked primarily for shore leave but a couple of minor repairs were going to be done also and Scotty had insisted on staying aboard for now  to oversee things. Jim was pretty sure he’d marry the ship if he could. 

“I’ll join you later, tomorrow probably. There’s somewhere I need to be.”

McCoy’s brow furrowed. “You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine, Bones.” Jim smiled broadly and patted him on the arm. “There’s just something I have to do.”

McCoy looked doubtful but to Jim’s surprise and relief, he left it at that. 

“Just let me know when you’re back and we can hit that bar I was telling you about.”

“I will.” Jim was still smiling as he turned around and headed off to catch a shuttle. “And make sure Chekov brings ID,” he called out over his shoulder. “Last time we all went out the bouncers thought he was twelve!” 

“Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor not a babysitter!” 

*****

It was nearly evening when he arrived at his destination, straightening his uniform and checking his reflection in the glass front door before knocking on it.

“Jim?”

“No James T. Kirk this time?”

“Jim seems more appropriate now. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?”  The elder of the two Spock’s in Jim’s life glanced down to the duffel bag bearing the Starfleet insignia that Jim was holding. 

The younger man followed his gaze and laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not homeless. We’re on shore leave so I just thought I’d drop by and…” he hesitated and Spock tilted his head just slightly to one side, watching him search for the right words.   “...visit.” Jim finished simply with a smile, going with Spock’s choice of word. 

Spock nodded and moved aside for Jim to come in. The door led almost directly into the small but ample kitchen which opened out into a spacious living room. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

"That'd be great, thank you." Jim went through, taking in the singular armchair, long sofa and shelves lined with books about Vulcan history and a couple in languages that Jim vaguely recognised from classes at the academy when he hadn’t been paying enough attention.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead and tell you I was coming. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing,” he said when Spock emerged with a tray carrying a mug of tea for himself and coffee for Jim. 

“Apologies are not necessary, it is good to see you again. I am, however, intrigued.” Spock set the tray down on the low coffee table and sat in the sleek armchair opposite Jim on the sofa. 

“Can’t a guy drop by his new old friend’s house for a surprise visit?” Jim put on his best dazzling smile, the one that usually got him out of most kinds of trouble.

“Jim, I have known some version of you long enough to know when you’re not telling me everything.”

Jim‘s dazzling smile evolved into a rueful one, as if he'd been caught out by someone who knew him better than he knew himself. “I've been...having dreams.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “And what is the nature of these dreams?”

“It’s hard to explain. They started before everything with Nero. From my end anyway.  I mean….I think the timing works out that I started having them when you came through the black hole."

There was no mistaking the surprise on Spock's face, but his voice was as calm and even as Jim had ever heard it. “What takes place in them?” 

“I’m not sure how to describe it. Nothing actually happens. No people, no talking. Just colour.  Intense colour, so intense it burns my eyes. Blue and yellow. No, more like gold. And they merge together but…they don’t change. I mean that should turn everything kinda green right? But they just stay like that. The two colours fit, perfectly together and if anything they each get brighter.”

Spock nodded slowly, taking a moment before he spoke. “You are far too insightful and intelligent not to have figured out what these dreams seem to symbolise.”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“But that’s why you’re here, for confirmation.” 

”I guess I am, yeah.” Jim nodded as he spoke. 

“The science officer and captain’s uniforms were the same colour in my Starfleet as here in yours,” Spock said, anticipating Jim’s question before he could even ask it. He sighed heavily. “It is possible that something slipped through in the mind meld I performed in the cave. Something more than the initial emotional transference. It had been some time since I had last engaged in a meld and my mental shields may not be as fortified as they once were. I am sorry, Jim, if I have caused any of your distress.” 

Jim shook his head. “This wasn’t your fault. It was already happening. For whatever reason." He met Spock's eyes, looking into them as if they were the only place left in the galaxy to look. "It’s like...I knew you were coming." He held Spock's gaze for a few moments more before closing his eyes and shaking his head as he looked away, chuckling lightly. "This sounds ridiculous. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have come here." 

"On the contrary, I think this is the only place you could have come." Spock's small smile was kind, comforting. The kind of smile people didn't usually aim at Jim Kirk, and any thought he had of just upping and leaving right now instantly disappeared. 

"There was actually a flash of something in the meld. Not an image, just a...feeling. A good one but…not familiar. And...and it…" Jim hesitated, but Spock inclined his head, brow arched just slightly, as if the end of this sentence was the final line of a book that couldn't be left unwritten. 

"...It felt like you took my hand.”

There was something in Spock’s expression that Jim couldn’t read. Expressions would be more accurate: sadness, confusion, a wistful smile. Jim wondered if he even saw a glimmer of hope on his face. But they were all just glimpses, micro-expressions even on the face of this older Vulcan who was more emotive and readable than his younger self. 

Jim decided to ask the question that had been on his mind during so many of his sleepless nights, the one he knew he’d really come here to ask. “Were you and the other Jim Kirk...together?” 

“We were. Though I would have used a different term. T’hyla .”

“What does that mean?” Jim asked, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“There is no direct translation into English but the closest description would be -“

“Soulmate?”

“Indeed.”

Jim exhaled and nodded. “Wow. I mean, I guessed but...wow. “ He leaned back on the sofa, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding his coffee cup in the other, the warmth radiating from it comforting and grounding him as he tried to make sense of everything. 

“You are tired, Jim.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

“It would be advisable for you to try and rest while you are on leave.” 

Jim nodded in agreement, not even trying to stifle a yawn. “I’m gonna stay at the Starfleet embassy in town tonight, catch a shuttle back later tomorrow. Hopefully, we can talk more before I go?”

“I have a guest room that has never been used and is unlikely to be. You are welcome to stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. And it would give us more time to speak about the dreams.”

“Thank you.” Jim smiled and yet again he was met with the same small, comforting smile in response. 

“Let me show you upstairs and I’ll make a start on dinner while you rest." Spock rose gracefully from his chair and Jim followed him, picking up his duffel bag. 

“Making sure I eat properly too, you’re starting to sound like Bones. But less…"

“Persistent?”

“I was gonna say shouty but we’ll go with your diplomatic version.” 

“A wise decision.”

Jim grinned and Spock opened the guest room door, showing him in. 

“I’ll just get settled and come help you with dinner.”

“You are a guest, it would be customary for me to make you dinner and for you to simply consume it if is acceptable.” There was a playful smile on his lips, which was not what Jim was used to seeing on the face of a Vulcan. Although he only knew one other Vulcan.

“Was the other me prone to being customary ?”

“He was not.” 

“Well, there’s an old earth saying, ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’. I guess that was written for me, all versions of me.” Jim’s smile was playful too and, he had to admit, almost flirtatious.  “Besides, I’d like to help.” He hadn’t ‘helped’ in the kitchen since he was little and would watch his mother making meals from scratch then insist on stirring or mixing something for her. She would smile and scoop him up, letting him sit on the counter and help, even taste the food before it was ready. But those times had been few and soon stopped altogether. 

“Very well.”

Spock turned to head back downstairs as Jim walked through the door, leaving it half-open behind him. But the temptation was, to his surprise, too much and he soundlessly turned back, watching Jim for a few seconds as he dropped his duffel bag on the bed and went to to the large window, smiling at the view. The younger man stretched, rolling his shoulders and yawning again before taking a plain grey t-shirt from his bag and starting to pull off the Starfleet one he was wearing.

Only then did Spock turn around, making his way back downstairs to the kitchen.

[winterverses]

Chapter Ten

Click the hearts for the deleted scenes!

The few days left before docking at Yorktown fled quickly. To Anne, they were something like heaven. With useful work to do all day, kind and considerate colleagues, and frequent visits with Captain Kirk, instead of Tarenn and Loche and their demands and cruelty, she felt more sure than she had since before she’d been a captive. The possibility of the mind meld lurked below her thoughts, though, popping up at odd moments to torment her. Granting access to her mind was something that, in her previous life, she wouldn’t have hesitated to do just to know what it felt like. As it stood now, her mind had long been her only sanctuary and she was frightened of letting anyone into it.

If only it had been Kirk that was capable of the mind meld. She wouldn’t hesitate then; she knew that he was the kind of person who couldn’t stand by and watch others be abused. She wondered, sometimes, if there wasn’t something related to that in his past. No one became the sort of daredevil child he’d referenced for no reason. And it was plain that he idealized his father to a degree much greater than he would have if his father figure while growing up had been the same kind of upstanding person. But he hadn’t said anything directly, and she wouldn’t pry. She knew better.

He’d taken to seeing her for an hour in the morning, before they started their shifts, letting her spill out the details of her captivity in measured doses, and then coming to have dinner with her in the evenings, where they would talk about anything and everything else. She’d glossed over some of the worst parts of her captivity with Tarenn during Kirk’s cross-examination of her, but she hadn’t left anything out. By now he knew most of it, if not the more awful things that had happened elsewhere. Nothing she’d said had shaken his confidence in her. It was a good feeling, to know he believed the things she said and trusted in her account of her captivity, even with her memory issues.

Anne knew, though, that those holes in her memory contained things that could be helpful. And by the time they docked at Yorktown, she knew she would have to go through with the mind meld. She just hadn’t said anything yet.

She had the trial to think of.

The practice questioning with Kirk had been helpful, but she still wasn’t sure if she could speak in front of an auditorium full of people. And she hadn’t mentioned anything about what had gone on with Loche, not at all. There was the possibility that it might come up during questioning.

It would definitely come up during the mind meld. It was the whole purpose of the mind meld.

There was no help for it. One way or another, she'd have to admit to the blood on her hands.

She would rather reveal it to Kirk before any of that. Indeed, as the Enterprise was docking, she lingered in her quarters, in hopes that he would stop there before disembarking and she could speak to him privately. Instead, he summoned her to the docking passage.

Anne briefly considered whether to bring anything with her, and decided against it. She’d been in contact with Mason, and he would have set something up for her by now. The Enterprise could use the materials of her borrowed clothes to synthesize other things. She smoothed her dress. It was a simple sleeveless dress, white, with a modest bateau neckline and a flared skirt that swirled around her calves. With her hair caught up in her customary French twist, she felt she looked presentable enough for the Council. Cosmetics and all that would have hidden the marks her captivity had left.

As she made her way to the docking passage, she reflected that she would miss the intimidating bustle of the passageways and the purposeful strides of the crew members. It was nice to be in a place where everyone had a function and knew it, even if she couldn't be a part of it. And she was still doing better than some. She’d seen the other slaves from time to time, but none of them wanted to associate with her, or each other. They had been traded back and forth for longer than she had; they weren’t adjusting well to freedom. They didn’t want her interference. It was the crew that Anne had started to bond with, and she hadn’t even felt secure enough to start talking to them.

It felt like goodbye. Mason would have gotten her an apartment already. He’d been his same old snobby British self when she’d contacted him, as abrasive and domineering as ever even when he was trying to be protective. Although he’d been her agent since her first book, she couldn’t handle talking to him long in her fragile state. But she wouldn’t have had to tell him what kind of apartment or what things she needed; he’d take care of it without her asking. He knew what she wanted. Still, leaving the ship felt… isolating. It was an odd and unaccustomed emotion. She’d preferred to be alone for so long.

When she approached Kirk, she knew he could see the wistfulness in her face. He was good at reading her. She was a little intimidated that he was standing with a whole group: Spock, McCoy, and a beautiful dark-complected woman that Anne didn’t know. They were all in grey formal Starfleet uniforms, ready for the trial. Kirk stepped forward to meet her. “Tarenn’s already been taken from the ship and put in Yorktown’s custody. The trial will be in an hour, so we should get going.”

Anne nodded. “I’m as ready as I can possibly be,” she said gravely. She was still afraid she might break down on the stand. “I need to speak to you privately,” she said, darting a quick glance at the others. “It’s not good.”

Kirk looked at the others, and then led her a short distance away. “I can’t really afford anything more private than this at the moment. Is something wrong?” His eyes searched her face, concerned.

Anne glanced back at the group waiting for them, and then said, “No. Sorry. But if something I haven’t told you comes up in the trial, please try not to judge me too harshly.”

Kirk blinked, frowned, nonplussed by her statement. “No one’s going to hold anything you did while you were a captive against you.” His expression said that they damn well better not.

Somewhat comforted, though still worried, Anne nodded. “All right. But I do want you to remember that there’s more than I told you, and it’s worse. Much worse. My other… owner… was hellish.”

Jaw tightening, Kirk had to take a moment to clear his scowl. “And that’s who I’ll be hunting next. I’ve had orders from Starfleet Command that pending the outcome of the trial, the Enterprise will be heading back out to catch the rest of the smuggling ring and any of their clients we can find.”

Sighing, Anne sagged a bit. Knowing he would be on the mission relieved her; he would find them. She knew it. “All right. Good. I guess we should go, then.”

Kirk motioned to the others, and they fell in around Anne like a phalanx, insulating her from anyone else. Anne snuck a glance toward the woman, wondering who she was, and accidentally caught her eye. “Don’t worry,” the woman said, smiling reassuringly. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re with you.”

Anne felt herself give an automatic smile in return, despite the pit that was growing in her stomach. If this was the quality of people that Starfleet recruited, maybe she’d have done well in it after all.

The Council chamber was huge and crowded with sentients of all kinds. An assortment of high-ranking people sat in a semicircle across the back of the room, and the auditorium in front of them was packed with all sorts, both Starfleet and civilians, though no media was allowed. Anne had never been in a Federation court before, and while she was intimidated, some part of her was also avidly trying to memorize every detail, every impression. When she could write again, she might need the remembrance of this scene.

Kirk led the group to some seats near the bottom, seating her between himself and McCoy. As everyone made their way to their appointed places, he murmured in her ear, “Uhura, Bones, and I are testifying as well. Spock is here for moral support.”

Anne couldn’t help some silent, puzzled humor at the idea. She’d been friendly with a couple of Vulcans before her capture, and that wouldn’t have been a consideration for any she’d known. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe Kirk was just trying to keep her mind off the trial.

It seemed like too short a time before the man in the center of the curving Council table, the name Vice-Admiral Landau engraved on a plaque in front of him, banged his gavel. The crowd fell silent. “We are here to determine the guilt or innocence of one Gamel Tarenn. Come to order. Bring the defendant to the stand.”

Anne felt her grip on the arms of the chair grow tight and her breathing turn shallow. Tarenn was brought out, wearing his normal dark clothing, his legs not shackled and his hands not cuffed. As she noticed that, Anne felt her breathing quicken into hyperventilating. Why hadn’t they shackled him? He was dangerous. The charges against him were for violence. They had no reason to believe he wouldn’t attempt something,

Kirk’s hand came down over one of hers. “It’s all right. The guards have their phasers. If he tries anything, he’ll get stunned.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, sending a flurry of other emotions coursing through Anne. She turned her hand up under his, threading her fingers through his, and he squeezed reassuringly. She didn’t care if it was inappropriate; she just wanted the comfort of knowing Kirk was there.

Her roiling emotions made it hard to keep her detachment, but it helped to remind herself that it was research. Nyota Uhura was first called to the stand, and she testified that messages had been sent from Tarenn’s ship regarding the sale of human beings. The two captives who had chosen to participate were called to speak about their experiences with Tarenn. They had not come from the same place she had, so they hadn’t been mistreated the same way. They were still captives, however, and they had still gone through horrors. Doctor McCoy was called to talk about the medical state of the captives. His testimony was restricted to the malnutrition and the occasional beatings that they could prove had happened during the captives’ time with Tarenn, but it still included medical holos, lacerations and bruises marked on anonymous, undetailed figures. Anne knew instantly which holo was of her; it was unmistakable. For the first time, she saw all of the damage to her body. It was… bad. Knowing she had scars was one thing, but seeing them was completely another. She’d avoided mirrors, and nudity, since she’d gained her freedom.

McCoy’s testimony went on for a long while, as he had ten patients to get through, and then Kirk was called to the stand. He squeezed her hand again before he got up, letting her fingers fall loosely from his, and gave her a small wink before heading down to the stand. He was questioned about the incident that brought him into contact with Tarenn, and what had made him decide that Tarenn’s ship should be captured.

“Screaming,” Kirk replied to the Councillor’s last question. “We were aboard the ship, ready to start repairing the hull when I heard screaming coming from the hold just off Engineering.”

“And this is where you found the slaves?” a hard-faced woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. They were in a state I wouldn’t leave a dog in. Dirty, underfed, dressed in rags. The one who screamed seemed unaware of me until I opened her cell door.” Though she could only see his back, she knew the expression on his face. A mixture of abhorrence and determination behind a careful blankness. She had seen it often enough.

“Shortly afterward you discovered the contraband. Is that correct?” A Vulcan asked, her face as expressionless as Spock’s was.

“Yes, ma’am. Everything was recorded and transferred to the Enterprise to bring to Yorktown.” Kirk nodded respectfully to the Vulcan.

“And this all happened because of the vaccine against Corellian Syndrome,” Vice-Admiral Landau said.

“Yes, sir,” Kirk replied. “We attempted to beam the vaccine over, but the Sorte’s deflectors were malfunctioning. We couldn’t transport anything over until they were off, and when they were, an asteroid hit the Sorte’s hull, causing a small breach. We beamed over to provide assistance.”

The Vice-Admiral looked skeptically at Kirk, but subsided. “We have no further questions for you. The defendant may speak.”

“I believe they used their tractor beam to move the asteroid into our path,” Tarenn said. “Our sensors showed no asteroid approaching us.”

Kirk replied coldly, “Our tractor beam logs are available to the court. They will show that we did no such thing. As for your sensors, your communications and your deflectors were malfunctioning. It’s possible that your sensors were as well.”

At that, Tarenn subsided, growling, “No more questions.”

“You may be seated, Captain,” the Vice-Admiral said. As Kirk walked back to his seat, Vice-Admiral Landau announced, “Anne Hardesty, you are summoned to the stand.”

Anne felt her blood drain, leaving her light-headed. She pushed herself up from her chair and numbly made her way to the aisle where Kirk was standing. Looking up at him, she saw him nod encouragingly, and he touched her shoulder as she passed. That simple touch steadied her, made her feel a little better. Breathing deeply, she walked down the aisle, as composed as she could be. Once behind the witness’s podium, she felt a little better, as she could only see Tarenn if she looked in his direction.

“Do you confirm that you are Anne M. Hardesty?” one of the Councillors asked. Anne couldn’t look to see which of them it was. She stared straight ahead.

“Yes,” she tried to say, but it barely came out. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I am.” That time was better. Firmer. Almost in control.

“Do you also confirm Captain Kirk’s account of the state he found you in?” someone else asked. She was too upset to want to know who was asking the questions. She decided to ignore the people entirely and concentrate just on what was asked.

“I do. I was in the first cell he opened. I was the one who had screamed.” When would the hard questions start?

“Do you also confirm that you wish to pursue the charges you have logged against Gamel Tarenn?”

“Yes. I do.” Her voice had trembled. This wasn’t easy. The charges were almost every crime that one person could inflict on another.

“Why did you scream?”

“I heard new voices on the ship. I thought I heard the word Starfleet. I decided it was worth risking a beating if I was wrong.” Not that Tarenn had habitually beaten her. That was more Loche’s style.

“How long was your captivity on the Sorte?”

“About three months, I think. I don’t know exact dates.” She’d never had access to anything that would have shown her dates. Neither Tarenn nor Loche had allowed it; she’d mostly stolen peeks at others using the computers when no one was looking in her direction.

“How did you come to be on the Sorte?”

Anne closed her eyes. They were getting closer to the bad stuff. “Tarenn won me in a game of dom-jot.”

And then it came. The hard question that would start off all the others. “For what purpose did he keep you?”

Anne tried to detach herself as much as possible. Words came from her, but she barely heard them, though she knew they were coherent and true. More questions followed, each digging deeper into what had happened to her, and she confirmed McCoy’s account of her malnutrition and abuse, describing in brief detail her encounters with Tarenn. It was something like torture, remembering all of it, but she pretended she was talking with Kirk again, and that helped somewhat.

Near the end of her questioning, she could feel herself shaking. One of the voices asked, “Once you were on the Enterprise, you provided information that helped them repel an attack by alleged smuggling ships. Where did you come by this information?”

“I had been on Tarenn’s ship when he enacted the same strategy more than once, to overcome passing cargo ships that were using their tractor beams. It seemed like a common strategy.” That was safer territory.

Immediately, they went back into unsafe territory. “Did Gamel Tarenn ever give you duties aboard his ship?”

Taking a shaky breath, Anne attempted to evade the question. “Nothing that pertained to the ship or the running of it.”

“Please explain,” someone said.

Another shaky breath, and then another. She was losing it. “Does the court consider the use of my body in a criminal fashion duties?” she asked, and she couldn’t keep her voice from being a bit hostile.

There was a short pause. “Understood.”

Vice-Admiral Landau, who was in her direct line of vision, said, “We have no more questions for you. The defendant may address his accuser.”

Anne had known this was coming, but after the questioning, she wasn’t sure she could stand up to it. She felt herself trembling like a leaf in a high wind.

“Anne, prima donna, how can you lie like this? I would submit to the court that we were lovers, and that she was caged because she became violent towards me and the rest of the crew.” Tarenn’s voice sounded smooth, oily even, and she felt it as though it stuck to her skin.

“Never,” she said, her voice ragged with fear. It wasn't as if she hadn't pretended she had feelings for him early on… but it had been that or die. “I was never your lover. I would never-- never--” she felt her hands grip the sides of the podium, and she closed her eyes.

“At least look at me before you throw me on the mercy of the court,” Tarenn said. “We had such fun together. And you look so lovely. I want my last memory of you to be of your beautiful face.” His voice sounded smugly sarcastic. Anne knew he was just saying these things to try to tear away her composure. It was working. She forced her eyes open.

A sudden movement behind her caught her attention, and her head snapped around to see that Kirk had risen and was approaching the stand. “Captain Kirk, you have not been summoned to the stand,” Vice-Admiral Landau growled.

“As one of the witnesses, I have the right to stand here,” he said, stepping briskly down the stairs to the podium. “And as a Starfleet officer, I will not stand by and watch the accused inflict mental and emotional suffering on his victim in front of the whole court.” Kirk stood at the podium with her, his body slightly turned so that his back was to her, and so that she could not see Tarenn at all. Anne felt her trembling lessen, his presence giving her strength. He was nearly touching her, so close that she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

A tense silence filled the room. Anne hoped desperately that they wouldn’t make him leave her.

After what seemed eons, Vice-Admiral Landau said, “I will allow it, this once. But only because the evidence seems clear. Gamel Tarenn, have you any questions left for your accusers before we confer to make our ruling?”

“I do not,” Tarenn said icily. Deprived of the fun of watching her break down on the stand, he no longer seemed interested in her. Anne felt even more relieved.

“I have something to add,” Kirk said, surprising her. “I believe it will settle any question of Tarenn’s accusations toward Ms. Hardesty.”

“Present your evidence,” Vice-Admiral Landau said, frowning.

Kirk held up a small chip. “This sound recording was made in the brig, during our altercation with the smugglers. It was not submitted with the rest of the evidence because there was some question of whether it would be legally admissible, but as it was recorded during a battle, I believe the expectation of privacy is inapplicable. Am I correct?”

Vice-Admiral Landau glanced at the other Councillors, then back to Kirk. “Give us a moment to consult.”

It took very little time for them to come to a decision. “Play the recording,” the hard-faced woman said.

Kirk inserted the chip into a slot on the podium, and the sounds of the battle filled the air. Phaser fire, Anne’s panting, the directions of the other officers that she’d barely heard… and then Tarenn’s taunting, his promises of how she would scream to pay for the screams that had set her free. His descriptions of how he would make her beg to stay with him rather than be traded back to Loche. Anne heard her own choked off gasps and whimpers as she tried to ignore him, the background of the phaser fire… the door opening, and then more shouting and the eventual defeat of the mercenaries. Spock talking to Kirk. And then that last exchange.

“You came here because you wanted to be there if I was released. Such devotion. It’s almost like you really were my lover.”

“I came here to make sure you weren’t released. I’d rather die than live in a universe where you went free.”

The court was silent for a moment afterward, processing the recording. Kirk took advantage of the silence. “I believe Tarenn’s last comment proves that he did not consider her a lover, and Ms. Hardesty’s answer proves that she has no romantic feelings for Tarenn.”

“You are correct,” the Vulcan said. “His words would be illogical if there was an established emotional attachment there. And in our ruling we will take into account the danger he presents to Ms. Hardesty.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said.

“The Court will adjourn for ruling. Please remain in your seats. The accused will stay at the stand; the accusers may be seated.” Vice-Admiral Landau rose from his chair, and the other Councilors joined him.

Kirk turned to Anne, looking her over. She knew he could see that she was barely hanging on. “Come on,” he said gently, and turned.

It was definitely by design that Kirk stayed in front of her the whole way back to the aisle, blocking her from Tarenn’s sight. As they reached the aisle, her turned and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, walking her up the aisle and back toward their seats. Anne felt Uhura watching her with sympathetic eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than glance in Uhura’s direction.

The deliberation didn’t take long. There was too much evidence against Tarenn. When the Councillors filed back in the room and had taken their places, Vice-Admiral Landau banged his gavel for silence, and then said, “The accused is found guilty on all charges. He will go to rehabilitation, and the length of his stay will be determined by his willingness to change his ways.”

It was the equivalent of a life sentence. A satisfied murmur rippled through the auditorium. Anne was again clutching Kirk’s hand, this time with both hands, trying to still the awful shaking that gripped her. There were a few formalities after that as Tarenn was escorted from the room, but she paid them no attention. He was gone, he was being rehabilitated, and she would never see him again. The thought was overwhelming.

When Kirk rose, she did too, hesitant to let go of his hand. When she tried, however, he just squeezed her hand and looked back at her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I have to find out where I’m staying,” Anne said, her voice shaky.

Kirk gave her a small grin. “Forget it. You’re on the Enterprise.”

A rush of relief flooded through her, almost unbalancing her enough for tears. All of these conflicting emotions were going to drive her mad. She just nodded and let him bring her along, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm like it belonged there.

[pendragonfics]

The Grumpy Man in Blue

Paring: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Tags: female reader, reader is a doctor, psychologists, fluff and angst, medicine, outer space, divorce, tenderness.

Summary: Reader is aboard the USS Enterprise, and works with Dr. McCoy. Or, known to as his staff as the grumpy guy, which everyone tries to take advantage of, and try and make him not be his sarcastic self for a while. Or, at least until a special guy from HQ comes down to give Reader a heads up on her boss...

Notes: You have no idea how much I love Bones. He's my favourite in Star Trek for the simple reason that he's so sarcastic and I love metaphors. If I ever met Bones, he'd be first, much, much taller than me, and more importantly, much better than me because I would be nearly useless out in space on the Enterprise. Unless they want a creative writer?? Or even an assistant? That's basically my use in life. 

I actually pre-wrote this when I was getting my wisdom teeth out (all four out in the dentist's chair). 

Word Count: 2,040

Posting Date:  2016-09-18

Current Date: 2017-05-23

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."

---

On the USS Enterprise, there was little to do but duties. It was five years; longer than you had studied your degree in psychology and in Starfleet. It would make anyone restless, homesick for a planet which had all of your family and friends aboard. Not that this spaceship was uncomfortable. No, no, it had some of the greatest people ever to graduate and be named heroes by Starfleet. Captain Kirk. Mr. Spock. Mr. Sulu, Mr. Scott...Dr. McCoy.

He was a grumpy, terribly stubborn man, whose grim frown could darken a doorway further than three feet away from where he stood. He had done many great things for the medical field, yes, but there was something that a trained psychologist-slash-nurse could pick up from him which he didn't want touched. It almost irritated you, but...you never let it get to you. You were a professional. And despite what people thought of medical staff, you got your job done.

At first, you noticed his grumpy nature firsthand. Your fellow nurses and doctors had been around him for only a mere four minutes when the first batch of sarcasm struck, and before you knew it, most of the people in your division made a pool to debate if there could be one person to remove his usual frown for the longest amount of time. There was no time limit, but it felt strange being around people who went out of their way to make the grumpy grump of a CMO scowling, and ultimately, making life hell for people in his warpath.

But no matter how many nurses trying to butter him up with dates and nights off spent with choice alcohol, you could read him like a book, and though it was written in another language, you could see something wrong.

On certain days, he would forget to shave. His uniform and hair would be unkempt, frown lines deeper. His voice harsher. Hands unsteady. But no matter what mood he would be in, his attention to practising medicine would not waver.

"It's useless," Simon, a technician, sighed, head held in his hands. "The longest he's gone without being a Grinch has been fifteen minutes."

Anders nodded, flicking potato across the tables to hit a red shirt. "Tell me. That was Martinez after he told a him a really boring story, at the end of the shift," the nurse rolled her eyes, pouting. "You put the damn man to sleep, not made him less grumpy."

Martinez shrugged, his shirt swimming more so than usual on his small frame, "It's not my fault he frowns in his sleep - but at least he didn't yell at anyone!"

A shadow darkens the table you are all seated at in the cafeteria, and accompanied by a throat clearing, you glance up to see firsthand, the face of the captain himself, Jim Kirk smirk, "You're not talking about who I think you're talking about, are you?" he grins.

Simon scrambles to his feet, smacking his knees as he rises to salute. "Captain! We - no! We weren't gossiping!"

Anders shakes her head, and scoots closer to you to make room for the captain. "We totally were talking about Dr. McCoy. It's lunch, man, and he's not here. Care to join the loser table?" she offers like she speaks to the man in charge like she often converses with people up on the main bridge of the ship on the regular.

"You know what? I'd love to." Jim grins, lowering himself into the bench. Opposite, Simon is beacon of red, a human embodiment of a blush, and Martinez is silent. "So, what's the hot talk down in the Medbay? You know, besides my good friend Bones."

"I've been working with engineering to create an early warning device to be set up at entrances and exits to warn of foreign bacteria contracted while on an unexplored planet," Martinez blurts out.

Kirk raises a brow. "That's so cool! Good job, man!"

You push your plate away from you. "What brought you here, Captain?" you ask, leaning forward to see through Anders' tall hair. "You're not one to traipse into the cafeteria often, and I sense an ulterior motive here."

Kirk raises his eyebrows.

"Don't mind her," Anders pushes you back, giving a big toothy smile, "She's the leading psychologist on board."

Captain Kirk grins. "You read me like a book, Miss..."

You hold your hand out across Anders' front for him to shake. "Nurse ________, pleasure to meet you Captain," you greet, and add, "Although I'm a doctorate in psychology, but nurse in medicine."

Martinez rolls his eyes. "Why don't you just call yourself Dr. ________?" he blurts.

The captain nods. "Why not?"

Anders slides down the bench as so to sit on the floor below the table, and ignoring her dramatics, you brush hair from your face. "If I was just a psychologist on Earth, sure, but here...I'm not here to analyse the mind primarily. I don't want to be confused as overqualified in an emergency, plus, it's embarrassing to have a PhD at twenty." you admit.

Simon nods. "Tell me about it..."

---

After lunch is over, you feel a hand on your elbow, and glance up to see the honey-mustard yellow shirt that stood out over the lunch table like a sore thumb. It's the captain, and in his eyes is a look you're used to hearing over and over again from your superior officer Dr. McCoy.

"I need to ask you a favour," his voice is low, eyes searching for eavesdroppers not inherently dropping eaves at that moment nearby, "I need you to keep an eye on Dr. McCoy this week. It's ... I know it's none of my business, or yours ... but he needs someone near him he can rely on, and it's -,"

Your face pales. "Are you asking me to interfere with his behaviour if my superior officer becomes grumpy?" The words sound as incredulous and silly as they did inside your head spoken aloud.

Captain Kirk shakes his head, and biting his lip, nods. "Just ... you're a psychologist. You've been around him for a year now ... please, you have to trust me on this." He pleads.

You close your eyes. "You have no idea what trouble I can get into for spying on my boss," you gush, but before the yellow-clad man before you can speak more words to convince you, you add, "But I'll do it. Because whatever he's going through, I can help more than anyone else aboard this ship."

Jim Kirk goes to interrupt, but a woman calls his name out. She's wearing red, and looks in a hurry. "Thank you so much, Nurse ______, you have no idea what good you're going to do."

At this, you notice the clock above the doorway, and rush back to where you're supposed to be on duty a minute and a half ago. But as you appear, the usual frowning face of Dr. McCoy doesn't scold you for your tardy timing. He just nods.

The same thing happens for the rest of the week - it's almost as if he's out of it. Yet, his attention to the patients, as always, doesn't waver.

Come Friday, you enter the Medbay bright and early for your ten hour shift. You expect to see the usual red shirt in for a splinter or missing limb, and not what meets your eyes.

He sits on the end of a sickbed, blue shirt stark in the brightly lit barren sickbay surrounding him. Hands clutching his head, lowered, you can't help but remember the promise you made the captain of the ship. From your training as a psychologist, and as a real, live human being, you feel your feet creep up to where he is bent like a man caught up in thoughts and age and circumstance, slowly and surely.

"Dr. McCoy? Are you alright?" you wonder.

He jolts, and in his action, something tumbles from his hand. It makes a small clatter upon the white floors, shining bright like a star caught in a spotlight not a step away from your feet. Slowly, you bend, and pick up what Dr. McCoy dropped.

He clears his throat, "I'm fine, Nurse _______." His eyes are rimmed with red, and stare at you. "May I -,"

You nod, and place the gold band back into the creased palm of the doctor. "Why haven't you said anything?" you whisper, eyes searching his light brown eyes for answers you weren't going to find there.

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."

He nods, his fingers slowly hiding the wedding ring once more. "I love my job," he repeats, not meeting your eyes. "If I'm to remain the CMO of the USS Enterprise, I need to place my past and personal problems on the back burner, no matter the toll on my mental state or whatever," his voice is grating, and Dr. McCoy adds, "Besides, if I'm to be out, you're in."

Your eyes widen. "Dr., that's no way to speak..."

"I mean, if I'm out of order from personal neglect, you're promoted to CMO for the time I am away," he corrects himself. "I'm confident that you can step up to take charge of all the medical officers here to best standard. Better standard than me."

You take a breath, "Sir, please know I'm very grateful to hear that, but ... as a psychologist, and someone who is close to you often, this is no way to treat yourself. I've noticed all week that you've been not yourself. I can only assume this is an unresolved issue that's causing you grief." you place a hand on your superior officer's shoulder, and slowly lower yourself to sit beside Dr. McCoy.

"Why are you damn smarter than me?" he sniffs, head lowered.

You shrug, "I don't mean to be, but if it makes you stop this erratic behaviour, I'd be smarter than you for the rest of this five year mission." You promise, noticing a small smile taking over the face of Leonard McCoy.

"Erratic? Don't you mean grumpy?" he smirks, and glancing down to his hand, his fingers loosen around the small plain wedding band. "I've spent enough time crying over Pam. She isn't coming back, nor I ... I'm going to throw this thing away."

"Sir -,"

Leonard McCoy raises a brow. "I thought you psychologists recommended throwing away traumatic pieces of people's history and whatnot," he challenges, and crossing the room, makes it to the garbage chute where all the dirtied gauze and used casts are cast. “I won’t waste any more time on her.”

---

Simon isn’t his morose self when Tuesday comes around. At the lunch table, he’s quiet, and eyes wide and the notebook he carries to keep track of the bet on Dr. McCoy is wide open. “You guys won’t believe what I just saw,” he gushes, like a manic maniac hopped up on too much laughing gas. “I just saw the CMO laughing.”

Anders shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. McCoy doesn’t laugh, Simon.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, he does! And he hasn’t been frowning since Friday, and that’s almost five days of him being completely out of his mind and probably on the verge of a breakdown -,”

Martinez places a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s probably temporary.”

You look down at your plate.

“Anders, ask ________ if she knows something,” Martinez raises a brow. “She’s looking really suspicious.”

“_________?” Anders’ practically sings.

“I may or may not have cured the chief medical officer from his blues,” you admit. “But he’s human, and prone to emotions and things, so I’m not completely to blame. It’s confidential, actually, so, I would prefer it if you all don’t pry.”

Anders beams. “Confidential is basically code for horizontal -,”

Simon shakes his head, “No, they wouldn’t have. She’s more of a -,” 

[trade-baby-blues]

For Now, Forever, For Always

Pairing: Jim x Reader

Word Count: 1646

Warnings: A little angst. Mostly fun banter and fluff

A/N: To the anon who requested the Bones angst and the anon that requested a sequel to Seeing Double, I promise I’m working on both of those!!! I haven’t forgotten about you guys and they’ll both be coming up soon. Also look who made a fancy header image for this fic instead of doing homework B) 

If there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your ability to give the perfect gift, moving people to tears with your thoughtfulness on more than one occasion. Even Spock got misty-eyed when you gave him a handmade terrarium replica of Old Vulcan with his mother's initials engraved on the bottom. The one person you could never figure out, though, was James Tiberius Kirk.

You thought he’d be the easiest, settling for an antique remote-controlled motorcycle he could drive around the bridge. You were almost shaking with excitement when you gave it to him for Christmas but two years had passed and it had yet to leave the shelf in his quarters. You switched up your game for his birthday, opting for a classier holoframe that displayed pictures you’d collected over your time on the Enterprise. His eyes lit up when you gave it to him, but three months later when he finally invited you to his quarters for dinner for the first time, you noticed the batteries had died and he hadn't replaced them.

“I just don't get him, Bones,” you said, letting your hands drop on top of your stomach. You stared furiously at the ceiling from Bones’ couch. “No matter what I get, he just doesn't seem to like it.”

Bones didn’t even look up from his paperwork.“You know he doesn't like to celebrate birthdays on account of his old man biting the dust the same day.”

“God, tell me you don't say that to him.” You sighed again, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch. “His birthday’s in two months and I still don't have anything for him. What if it's not the gifts? What if he just isn't into me?”

Bones leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling under his breath. “I've never seen anyone as in love as Jim is with you, and I was married once. Buy a nice lingerie set and give him the best damn sex of his life or something. Now, would you please get out of my office so I can finish this damn paperwork before we go on leave?”

The next few days passed in the blink of an eye, and soon you were touching down in Risa for a week long shore leave while the Enterprise was restocked and repaired. You hit the shopping center with Uhura the first day, still set on finding the perfect gift for Jim. When nothing caught your eye, you took Bones’ advice and settled for some lingerie.

Jim was already asleep by the time you got back, and you couldn’t help but smile at his gentle snores. He worked so damn hard on the ship all the time - not a single casualty in years. What other captain in the fleet could say that? He was so dedicated to his crew and his ship, and all you wanted to do was remind him that everyone on the crew felt the same but you couldn't figure out how.

You put your shopping bags down as quietly as you could, slipping your shoes off and sliding into bed next to Jim. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Jim rolled towards you in his sleep, throwing an arm around your hips and pulling you against him. You smiled softly as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, letting sleep take you.

Jim woke up with a smile on his face for the first time in far too long. “Morning, beautiful,” he said, tilting his head up to kiss you but tasting only the cotton sheets. He cracked his eyes open, a wave of panic shooting through him. He practically shot up in the bed, searching the room frantically. The movement caught your eye, and you noted the panic on Jim’s face before he caught sight of you. He smiled but his shoulders didn't unwind, and something finally clicked into place for you. “Morning, gorgeous,” you called. You hopped up onto the counter, giving Jim a full view of you in his dress shirt and the lingerie you bought yesterday.

Jim laid still on the bed, drinking you in. Slowly, he made his way over to you, running one hand through your hair and putting the other on your waist. His kiss was feather-light.

That's one thing that surprised you about Jim. You knew his reputation in the academy. A different girl every night, always hot and heavy. You expected him to be the same now, but every touch was fleeting, as if you were made of glass. You didn't mind, really, but sometimes you wished he’d let his walls down around you and let instinct take over.

“You're so beautiful,” he mumbled against your collarbone, nipping your skin and hugging you tightly to him. You could feel Jim’s chest rise and fall with yours, sunlight bathing both of you and making his hair look like spun gold. You ran your fingers through it softly. You could've died right then and there and been happy.

Shore leave passed in a blink and the next two months seemed to go even faster until the day before Jim’s birthday finally rolled around and you were practically bursting at the seams. You’d arranged with Spock to clear Jim’s schedule for the day, so you sat waiting, legs crossed, on top of the bed.

“You waiting for something, doll,” Jim asked, catching sight of you as the door slid open. You patted the bed beside you, motioning for him to come sit. Jim rolled his eyes but walked towards the bed, leaning down to kiss you.

“Not yet,” you said, pushing Jim down roughly. He only laughed and pulled you down with him. You would've fought harder if his lips weren't so damn soft. “Jimmy,” you whined, “I gotta give you your present.” You reached over Jim to pull open the bedside drawer, revealing a small box.

“You know I don’t need presents on my birthday. Dinner with you is more than enough.”

“That’ll come later, don’t worry. For now, shut up and open the box.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up on my birthday.” Still, he sat up, crossing his legs and leaning over the box.

“Good thing it’s not technically your birthday yet, then, Jimmy.”

He watched you carefully, smile still tugging up his cheeks. He pulled the ribbon off extra slow to tease you and you groaned loudly. You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead. “James...Jim...I think….I think I see the light. I think this is the end of the road for me. I’m not long for this world…..Goodbye…..Jimbles…..” You flopped dramatically onto your back, struggling not to smile at the howl of Jim’s laughter. You cracked an eye open and saw him clutching his ribs. You snapped your eyes shut again, playing dead, when Jim looked at you again.

“All right already I get it. I’m opening it. Now, get up here.” Satisfied, you crawled up to the headboard to cuddle up next to Jim. Finally, he pried the lid of the box and took out the book inside.

It was a simple leather-bound journal that you’d etched Jim’s initials into. Jim turned the book over in his hands, admiring it as he always did with old books. He opened the cover, expecting blank pages but glued inside was a picture of you kissing him on the cheek captioned, “For J. Know that you’re always loved.”

Jim sucked in a breath beside you, and your eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were glassy, but the ghost of a smile was still pulling at the corners of his mouth as he flipped through the book. Every page belonged to a different crew member, each recounting their favorite adventure or memory with the captain. Behind the yearbook-style signoffs was a collection of pictures of Jim’s father that you got from his mother, along with a letter she wrote for Jim about how proud she was to call him her son, how proud his father would have been.

Jim took in a shaky breath as he finished the letter, and you dropped your lips to his shoulder, kissing him through his shirt. He kept turned the next page, and you watched him thumb through your section of the book. It was filled with doodles, song lyrics, and pictures of the two of you on shore leave. Finally, he got to a page that was blank except for three words: I’m yours, always. Jim traced the words with his finger before following the arrow you drew to the next page, two words: Be mine? You buried your head in Jim’s neck, heart racing, not wanting to see his reaction when he turned the next page. His shoulders rose as he sucked in a sharp breath.

A ring sat taped to the top of the page with a checklist underneath: For Now, Forever, For Always. Jim didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and you lifted your head to look at him. He stared at the ring like it would jump off the page at him, but he didn’t speak.

You started to get worried, pulling away from him. “You don’t have to say yes right now,” you started, barely above a whisper. “I’m in this for the long-haul. I’ll stick around as long as you’ll have me. I swear I would never leave you.”

Jim let the book fall closed in his lap as he turned to face you, slamming his lips down against yours. You hooked your arm tighter around his neck, tugging gently on his hair. He broke the kiss as a sob hit him hard, and you pulled him closer to you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes too. “Thank you,” Jim whispered into your shoulder. “Thank you.”

Tags:  @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @trekken81 @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @atari-writes  @the-witching-hours12-3

[hrrraandm]

These tag memes are pretty popular these days...

Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag blogs you wanna know better

I was tagged by: @senosonia :D

Star sign: Cancer Height: 5′2″ or 5′1″, I can’t remember... Time right now: 12:21 AM Last thing you googled: oh my god, it was whether or not Donald Trump’s “gold shower” allegation was true... Last book I read: The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (although that’s a play) Favourite music artists: Regina Spektor, Keane, The Beatles, Studio Killers, David Bowie, and various Vocaloid producers. Last TV show watched: Star Trek: The Original Series. It was that or Osomatsu-san... What are you wearing right now: An oversized long-sleeve blue shirt and grey sweatpants. My pajamas, basically. When did you create this blog: Sometime in the middle of 2016. Really close to the time before @muffinpants567​ moved away from where I live. What do you post: I really just post whatever the fuck I want. Whatever I’m into at the time (anime, movies, shows, events, etc) and whatever I stumble upon and find interesting or funny. Lots of fanart from my fandoms. If you go through my post archives, you can definitely see “layers” of various fandoms, and what I was interested in/scrolling through the tag at the time. Do you have an Instagram: Nope. Do you have Snapchat: Yes, same username. hrrraandm. Do you get asks regularly: NO I DON’T AND EVEN WHEN I BEG SOMEONE, ANYONE TO ASK ME NOBODY DOES. I did get a couple of asks when my blog was just getting started, but that ended soon. ;-; How did you choose your URL: OH BOY STORY TIME. So, back when I was 11, I had a friend named Adelaide that was 13. At the time, my email account just got deleted by Gmail because they figured out I was a kid, so I was trying to get another account again. Adelaide, since she was 13, decided she’d help me cheat, and entered her own birthday into the information sections when we were creating the new account info. So, in her stead, I named the new email account hrrraandm@gmail.com, “hrrr” because I obsessed with dragons and the idea that they would probably purr, + A and M, A for Adelaide and M for Madeline (my real name). So, hrrraandm. It’s kind of a complicated backstory... Gender: I’m biologically female. Favourite colour: I like green, I guess, but I generally like bright, rich colors. Don’t really have a FAVORITE. Average hours of sleep: Anywhere from 5-8 hours on weekdays, can go up to 12+ on weekends. Sleep debt, y’know? Favourite characters: Where do I begin? Alba Fruhling, Ross/Shion, Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo, Arataka Reigen, Aladdin, Himura Kenshin, Jareth the Goblin King, pretty much every character in FMA, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, Tulio and Miguel, Mumen Rider, Yoosung Kim, Jaehee Kang, pretty much all the characters in Escaflowne, Tsunemori Akane, Shuusei Kagari, tons of others that I really don’t want to have to search for. I guess I like main characters more since they get a lot more character development and plot involvment... How many blankets do you sleep with: 5-7 blankets, including a comforter. I like to layer them like lasagna. Midwestern winters are SOO FREAKING COLD Dream job: Honestly, I have no clue. I have considered everything, from becoming a doctor, to a bartender, from an editor, to a card designer. Nothing really strikes a chord that says, “This is what you’re meant to do.” When I was a kid, I wanted to be a shepherd (like, legit, the ones with long robes and hooked staffs), but that was just because my last name is Shaffer, which means “shepherd” in German (even though the spelling is wrong compared to the German spelling). So yeah. I don’t know what my dream job is. Random fact about yourself: Um... my favorite fruit is guava. Not the kinds in Mexico and South America, the kinds from Taiwan. The soft, juicy kind. Those kinds are pretty rare (especially in America), but they are the most delicious fucking thing you will ever experience in your mortal life. They’re called bala in Cantonese. There are actually many different types of guavas, and some types aren’t even the same species as other types, which makes it complicated when you are trying to talk about a specific type of guava. In addition to my love for guavas, I’m addicted to Asian guava candy. These candies give me a reason to live. They look like this:

But yeah, I’m kind of going on a tangent now.

I tag: @muffinpants567, @drkstars, @snorto-chan, @mint-stone

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Where No Ninja Has Gone Before (Reboot)

Since this isn’t popular on Fanfiction the fandom there seems to be dead I decided to post it here

Summary Space the final Frontier these are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise Its five year mission to explore strange new worlds to seek out new life and new civilizations to boldly go where no Ninja has gone before!

Ninjago and Star Trek Crossover

Hope you guys like it

———————————————————————————————

“I finally finished it” Jay exclaimed, running into the Bounty’s living room where the rest of the ninja were relaxing along with Garmadon and Pixal who were visiting, whether reading or watching TV they loved the lull between fights Kai gave a huff of annoyance and turned to him with annoyance

“What is it this time” he asked

¨My latest invention the transporter with this device you can travel anywhere in ninjago with the simple press of a button¨ Jay chirped happily not seeming to notice the clear annoyed tone in Kai’s voice

Cole set down the book which he had been reading on his lap and gave a sharp laugh

“How much you want to bet it will explode in the first trial?” he questioned looking to the others who smirked, while Jay gave a huff

“It won’t blow up I know it I have worked 5 months on this!” he exclaimed

“Jay according to my memory banks you have made 143 inventions of which only 2 have worked, I agree with Cole this Invention will most certainly blow up in your face so to speak” Zane added from where he sat reading a cookbook

Jay at this looked down at the device in his hands and pressed a few buttons the device let out a single beep before they suddenly felt themselves being sucked into a portal, with a loud thud they landed on a strange platform not in the most graceful of sort of ways

¨Way to go Jay “Kai grumbled standing up first and dusting himself off and helped the others up,Zane checked each and everyone over,

When they heard a swishing and hissing they turned around a man in a red shirt had appeared followed by a man in a blue shirt with strange pointed ears and a man with icy blue eyes that to Kai seemed to speak he lead these two the men, the one in the red shirt pointed a strange looking device at them, they immediately threw up their hands the one in the yellow shirt stepped forward studying them

"I am Captain James T Kirk how did you get aboard my ship?” he questioned looking at the group sternly

“Captain Kirk Sir, my friend Jay was testing his device it was meant to teleport a group of people around our home Ninjago but it instead put us here” Zane answered the man calmly

“I have never heard of a Planet called Ninjago before how do I know your speaking the truth?” Kirk questioned skeptically still watching them closely

“Perhaps if I may Captian ask one of their permission to establish a mind meld to search the persons memories to see if they speak the truth” the one with pointy ears said with a monotone voice

“If one of them want’s to do so Spock it would definitely conclude they are not threat’s to my ship and crew”

“If I may ask, what is this Mind Meld ” Zane questioned

“It is a technique my people can do that allows others to share memories with me or I with them”

The Ninja nodded in understanding

“So will one of you agree to allow me to do this?” Spock questioned, looking from to each of the team members

Nya sighed as none of the boy’s stepped forward, so in a show of bravery she did so

“I will”

She saw Kai open his mouth to object but she shot him a glare that made him snap it shut, the man who she now knew as Spock stepped up to her

“Brace yourself and close your eyes please” he asked and she did so

The Ninja watched in absolute curiosity as the man placed four of his finger’s to the side of Nya’s face closing his own eyes, Nya though found herself watching a younger version of Kai and her running around the front of their parents shop as their parent’s watched, she saw Spock standing beside her suddenly and the memory switched to when she had been kidnapped and it kept quickly switched to several different memories till today she suddenly found herself back on the strange ship really woozy, Spock gently held her there so she could gain her barings

“I apologize Ms, I had to sort through several memories to find the one of today”

“It’s alright Sir I just want to make sure my team isn’t seen as a threat” she answered giving a smile

“So Spock are they who they say they are” Kirk questioned looking at Spock

He nodded

“Yes, I witnessed their lives and they indeed are from a completely different dimension from our own”

“Well Jayson looks like you have gotten us into a very big mess” Nya heard Garmadon say sighing as Kirk and the Guard put the strange devices away

“Yes, considering the fact that Jay does not have the device of which brought us here” Zane stated making everyone turn their head’s to see that the nindroid was correct in his observation

“Well Ladies and Gentleman looks like you’ll be staying aboard this vessel for awhile as we don’t go back to earth for another year”

“Wait what?” They all asked

“You said this is a ship didn’t you mean a sailing ship?”

Kirk shook his head

“Where your from must be very behind in technology, no this is what you guys might call a space ship in our Universe Space Travel is like flying to another continent for you guys ”

Their eyes widened making Kirk chuckle

“Welcome to the Starship Enterprise boys and girls, I will have McCoy check you over and have you properly vaccinated against the diseases of this universe we don’t want you guys dying from something that could have been prevented”

They each looked at the others in concern but followed him anyways they looked in awe as they were lead through the vast ship towards what they assumed was the medical bay

[archiveacademics]

Tags, Terminology, and Tropes

So let’s talk tags.

No, not gang tags. Tags on fanfic. 

If you’ve interacted with fanfic, or even just fandom at large, you’ve likely experienced tags. Hell, if you’ve used Tumblr or Twitter or I think even Facebook at this point, you’ve experienced tags. Tagging is, by now, a digital way of life, a way to organize the chaos that is this giant cultural archive and project of capitalism that we call the internet.

So. Why are tags important?

I’m glad you asked, hypothetical reader! Tags are important for a number of reasons. For one, they allow others to find your fanfic. Whether you read on Tumblr, Wattpad, or AO3, there are thousands upon millions of stories to wade through and it can be hard to find exactly what you’re looking for. Hence, tags.

Fansplaining has a great episode called “Cataloging Fandom” where they discuss tags from an academic standpoint. If you’re into that sort of thing definitely check out that episode. Meanwhile, Tumblr user salt-of-the-AO3 has a great post explaining the who, what, when, where, and why of tagging. It’s a great starting point if you’re just learning about tags. They even have a list of tags to get you started, whether you’re writing something and want to post it or looking for something new to read.

Say, for instance, you want to read a story about Harry Potter. You type “Harry Potter” in the AO3 search bar. But wait!

You don’t have the time, much less the energy, to wade through over 240,000 stories. So maybe you decide to narrow it down a little. You still want to read Harry Potter, but maybe you want to focus on Draco Malfoy, because you’ve got a thing for bad boys.

Yeesh. That’s better, but still not great. So now you’ve got to decide: do you want to read a Draco love story or a Draco adventure? Since you’re a hypothetical construct and an extension of myself right now, you want to read a love story. Results for “Draco Malfoy, romance”?

Ok, that’s a bit more manageable, when compared to 240,000. But it’s still a lot to sort through. So we’ll give it one last shot. Who do you want Draco to be in love with? Not Harry (that would shoot our search results up through the roof again). Not Hermione, or Ginny. You’re looking for something to read, not trying to sort through thousands of hits. So let’s go with Lavender Brown. 

Eh, good enough. You’ve got it down to under 1,500 hits. From here you can either start sifting through the results to find something you like, or you can go even more down the rabbit hole and try another search by character and event. Draco and Lavender go to the Yule Ball. Draco and Lavender at a wedding. Draco and Lavender in a coffee shop AU...

The tags are your oyster, is what I’m saying. Or the world is in the tags. Or some clever reuse of a common phrase that replaces one of the words with “tags.” 

But Chris (you hypothetically ask) what the heck is an AU?

Ah, my dear sweet hypothetical reader, I’m so glad you asked that, because it brings us to the terminology part of the post.

To start with, a fanfic writer that goes by the name of Moonbeam has a great Fanfiction Terminology master post. It covers a lot more ground than I’m going to get into today, so if you’re very curious, it’s a good place to poke around and find out what things mean. There’s also an article by Aja Romano called “Canon, fanon, shipping and more: a glossary of the tricky terminology that makes up fan culture” that’s a really good starting point for this stuff. Thirdly, the podcast Fansplaining has an episode on this topic called “~fanspeak” you can listen to. Or you can just continue reading.

Now, back to AUs.

AU stands for alternate universe. An AU usually takes the characters of a story and puts them in a new setting. There are many popular types of AUs from coffee shop AUs to high school AUs to magical AUs to either a historical or a modern AU (depending on whether the story itself is modern or historical). An AU can also change the plot of a story, taking familiar characters and sending them down different narrative paths. What if someone didn’t die like they did in the canon? Or what if they did die at a critical point? Either change could send your characters down a wildly different narrative path.

So in your hypothetical search for a story, maybe you decide you want to see Draco Malfoy the barista fall in love with Lavender Brown the Instagram Influencer who comes to his shop everyday. Or maybe you want to read a story that takes place at Hogwarts where Lavender becomes obsessed with Draco instead of Ron. Either can be considered an AU.

Now, I used a word up there that may or may not be familiar to you, depending on how deeply you live in the world of fandom. 

Canon.

Canon is the original, the progenitor, the common ancestor from which all fanfic descends. Harry Potter in all it’s seven book glory is canon. As are all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And however many there are of Angel. And all the comics... What I’m saying is, canon is the original work that fanfic is based off of. It’s the official, some might say the “real” version, but there’s a bit a value judgement there, so I wouldn’t. Anyway, that’s canon.

(If you don’t already, you’ll get why this is funny in a minute.)

The word “ship,” in the fandom sense, is short for “relationship.” In the vaunted old days of the early internet and the X-Files fandom, fans who wanted Mulder and Scully to get together began to refer to themselves as “relationshippers” or “r’shippers”. Eventually, the term became shortened to simply “ship” and became both a noun and a verb. A ship is the pairing of characters you want to see together. To ship is to want a pair of characters to get together. 

In our hypothetical example, for instance, you ship Draco and Lavender. 

If you’re still a bit confused by the term, the podcast Fansplaining has a great article about it called “To Ship or Not to Ship,” and they also ran a survey that garnered over 16,000 responses which are gathered together and presented for your perusal here. And last but not least they produced two episodes called “The Shipping Question” and “The Shipping Answers.” 

Alright, I’m going to go through a couple more definitions as fast as I can because this post is getting long and I haven’t even gotten to tropes yet.

So, in no particular order I present...

Slash: A word used to denote a male/male pairing, original so called because of the “Kirk/Spock” fanfic of the Star Trek zine era. 

Fem Slash: Like slash, but with women. 

OTP, or One True Pairing: Your favored pairing in a fandom. 

OC, or Original Character: A character you introduce into a story. So maybe the new transfer student to Hogwarts or the new Starfleet lieutenant on the Enterprise. 

Headcanon: Your beliefs about the motivations of a character or potential plot points of a story that may or may not be supported by the canon (but are at least usually not actively disproved by canon).

Fluff: A fanfic that is short and sweet and not at all angsty. There’s is generally not much plot advancement but the stories are comforting and often domestic.

Crossover: Where characters from separate works are thrown together. For instance, I have a friend who writes Batman and One Piece cross over. 

Gen fic: A story without an overt romantic element. While pairings might happen they happen despite the story, not because of it. 

Filing off the serial numbers: When a fic writer scrubs their story of all recognizable copyright (names, places, vampires or wizards or whatever) in order to publish it. Think 50 Shades of Grey. 

Self insert: An original character that is obviously, consciously or not, based on the author. 

Mary Sue: A character who is “special.” The word has a pretty negative connotation these days. It’s usually a self insert character who is better and stronger and smarter than everyone around her and without whom the problem of the plot could never be solved. The line between what is or is not a Mary Sue (or Marty Sue/Gary Stu if the character is male) is pretty blurred these days, with trolls sometimes shouting that any female self insert character is a Mary Sue and thus obviously sucks. Elizabeth Minkel, of the Fansplaining podcast, wrote a great article about the issues of Mary Sue and the patriarchy and she and Flourish discussed those issues in an episode of the podcast.

There are so. Many. More. I could go on forever talking about different terms. But these are some of the big ones that I tend to throw into casual conversation, and, well, Google is your friend. If you don’t know the definition of something, look it up. I still have to do that sometimes. 

Now, let’s talk tropes!

TVtropes.com has a great explanation about what a trope is:

“A trope is a storytelling device or convention, a shortcut for describing situations the storyteller can reasonably assume the audience will recognize. Tropes are the means by which a story is told by anyone who has a story to tell...

Tropes are not the same thing as cliches. They may be brand new but seem trite and hackneyed; they may be thousands of years old but seem fresh and new. They are not bad, they are not good; tropes are tools that the creator of a work of art uses to express their ideas to the audience. It's pretty much impossible to create a story without tropes.“

Tropes in fanfic are fun. “Five Tropes Fanfic Readers Love (and One They Hate)” is a another survey run by the folks over at Fansplaining. You can read the article above or listen to the episode on the topic. They discuss the variety of different tropes that are either loved or hated by the more than 7,500 respondents to their survey. 

As TVtropes discusses, “Tropes are Tools.” They aren’t good or bad in and of themselves. They simply exist. Fanlore.com has a great list of different tropes. AU fic itself is a trope. And thus we’ve come full circle. 

Thanks for sticking with me this long, this post kind of got away from me. 

Make sure to tag your tropes, folks!