#that's set right in the tos era

[angrycatlovesfandoms]

I just wrote a thousand words of star trek fanfiction on my phone on a train without puking lets go we win thissss

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Girl now I need a one-shot of free-use with Charon. Like imagine just getting bent over one of those random abandoned picnic tables or waking up with him in your tent/room. Hnsnxcbbfsbxb I need to go lay down-

When Lightening Strikes

Pairing: Charon x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,724

Warnings: smut (18+), dubcon, free use kink, size difference, no real foreplay/poor preparation, rough sex, creampie, very brief aftercare, established relationship.

Notes: Charon fans, please enjoy this little appetizer that will hopefully tide you over until the already-9,000 word virgin reader fic I have for him is completed some time next month. Thank you for the ask, Anon, and thanks for your patience! Something short and sweet from me, for once; this one's straight up PWP, folks.

For an absolutely hulking mountain of a man, your bodyguard and companion moved in surprising silence when he chose to. True, neither of you would have called stealth a particularly strong skill of his if asked, but in moments of need, he could be serviceably quiet for a man of his hulking stature. Despite this, it still unsettled you a bit how he was able to teleport right into your bubble sometimes.

Or maybe it only seemed that way because you'd been all but completely asleep when he quietly made his way into your tent.

The two of you had stopped to make camp earlier in the evening than you usually did, attributable to the sickly green radstorm that could be seen rolling up along the horizon from some distance. Personally, you felt just fine walking through the less-intense storms, provided you were adequately covered up and had a few Rad-X capsules to pop, but your bodyguard refused to allow it, insisting that you take cover the moment the first rumble of thunder rolled through the air.

Choosing the most intact crumbled building around, what seemed like it had been some sort of storefront in another era, you set to erecting the little pup tent you carried around with you, tucked away in the corner under the intact portion of the floor above, granting you a sort of double roof. You were pleased, as Charon was prone to griping and moving your whole setup if your tent got wet. Besides, it would be unpleasant to be awoken by the leaking, irradiated rain falling on you.

You took the Rad-X anyway, just to be safe.

While you worked, the massive man began his typical routine of inspecting the area, searching high and low for any potential traps or threats. When he was satisfied that the two of you were safe and alone, he built a small fire, picking a very large rock out of the rubble scattered around and dragging it to just outside your tent. You shook your head gently. Every night was the same; he'd sit and keep watch, cleaning and maintaining that riot shotgun he loved so much, or maybe one of his other weapons, while smoking like a chimney. Many times you'd offered to share your tent or take watch yourself so he could get some rest, offers that went unaccepted time and time again. He didn't rest, as a rule of thumb; that was quite clear.

He had, however, recently taken to visiting you at night sometimes, when the conditions were just right.

You never knew how to predict when it would happen, despite studying him and his habits almost too closely over the last several weeks. All you knew was that when he wanted sex with you, he took it, and something about that gave you a thrill that you were actively chasing, even now. If you couldn't initiate, never really knowing when he was in the proper mood, maybe you could inspire the mood and hope for the best.

Once your tent was fully erected, you toed off your boots and set them in the corner beside your laid out bedroll before poking out, your nipples already pebbling from the slight chill in the air.

"I'm turning in now if you don't need anything." you said, knowing full well he would never ask for anything from you. "I'll see you in the morning. Maybe we can hit the road a little early to make up for having to stop early today."

With that, you allowed yourself the familiar gesture of saddling up beside him, pressing the length of your body against his side as you leaned in and gave him a little peck on the cheek. He didn't respond much, save for a glance towards you as he briefly paused whatever he was doing with the disassembled rifle in his hands. That little pause and sideways glance was more of a reaction than you were typically able to get out of him, however.

It was because of this that you were unsurprised, though still a bit confused with the fog of unconsciousness, when he appeared in the small space, a large part of his body undoubtedly exposed as he loomed at the entrance of the ratty tent. He didn't say anything as you slowly regained your bearings, simply sitting there studying you where you laid on your thin bedroll, the only sound the tip-tapping of the light rain on the building's bones.

"Mmh? What's wrong?" you called into the dark, heart already racing in your ears, only able to make out the vague shape of him there, relaxing incrementally as he crawled towards you in the small space until he sat at your feet.

"Want you." he said simply, massive hands gripping your thighs and yanking your entire body forward, closing the small remaining gap between you. Your legs rested along his as he kneeled over you. He didn't say anything more, pulling away the jacket you'd been using in lieu of a blanket, his touch roaming over your clothed torso and crotch. He was funny like that, rather flowery and loquacious from time to time, spitting out memorized lines, but shifting into truncated, simple speech when he had to respond in earnest, like it made him uncomfortable to do so.

"Is it safe?" you breathed, body squirming unconsciously as he moved to unbuckle your pants and undo your fly with surprising deftness. You were unsure what it was about this particular camping spot that made him feel more reassured than any of the others, but you trusted his judgment; he always protected you very capably, though whether it was because he truly wanted to or because you "held" his contract (in the most literal sense), you were sometimes unsure.

No answer came for your question, of course, only him jamming his hand between your now bare-to-the-knee legs, playing with your swelling cunt roughly as the other one busied itself undoing his belts, the weathered metal of the buckles clinking and tapping along one another as he did.

"Ahh!" you exclaimed at the feeling of his calloused fingers on the most delicate parts of you, wriggling in his grasp unconsciously as he stroked and prodded your clit, slipping his fingers up your shirt to pinch and tug at your nipples.

"Shh." he responded calmly, pulling himself over top of you completely and placing his lips to your throat, butting your head out of the way with his own and inhaling your smell deeply. The vibrations in your ear buzzed down your spine and made you clench and whimper, only fueling him further.

Seemingly satisfied with how wet you were, he grabbed your rather dirty bottoms by the ankles and jerked them the rest of the way off your legs, discarding the grimy article off somewhere to the side. Your still-socked feet slid up his broad, rough chest as he yanked you even closer, your ass riding up high on his muscled thighs as you felt him wrestling with his fly. You'd yet to actually see his cock, or touch it with your hands; the only times you felt it were moments like this, where he brushed you softly as he moved into position. You weren't sure if you believed it was possible that he was as big as he felt.

Your whole body tensed as he slid inside, most of his length parting you quick and hard, knocking the air out of you so thoroughly you couldn't even cry out. Nonetheless, he covered your mouth with his hand as he pulled back, giving one or two shallow thrusts before fully burying himself to the hilt. The hot shock of the sudden stretch was enough to force you to find your voice, your whines filtering through your nose as he began to fuck you.

He was always so quiet at times like this, even moreso than usual even if that genuinely didn't seem possible. You found it nearly impossible to stay completely quiet once he began touching you, even your breathing becoming louder and more dramatic. He, however, didn't seem to hardly breathe at all, like he was still listening for any unexpected sounds outside of the tent, a piece of his mind always firmly focused on monitoring for danger.

It ended rather quickly, but you weren't surprised; nothing about the way he was moving, the harsh way he plucked at your clit and pounded away at you with a great deal of his body weight, communicated that he was trying to prolong things. He let out an incredibly short little grunt as his strokes lost their rhythm, slamming himself as deep as possible as he came, pulsing strongly against your cervix and coating the back of your throat with the taste of electricity.

Your lover didn't pull away from you instantly as he usually did, though, letting himself linger in the crook of your neck, this time actually laying a few soft, simple kisses there as his fingers began to move in smoother, softer circles around your clit once more. His ministrations sent you squirming and mewling, still caged beneath him; he cupped your sweaty face and slipped the tip of his thumb into your mouth to silence you. It didn't take long for him to finish you off, sending you shuddering and clenching around his cock as you lost yourself, curling up against his chest as he rumbled, pleased-sounding.

After you finished, however, he did pull away rather unceremoniously, leaving you panting and completely dazed as he retrieved your jacket out of the dark and tucked it over your uncovered lower half. Lying there disoriented, you drew the worn jacket back up in an attempt to combat the tremble that shook your entire being.

"Go back to sleep." he murmured, his tone neutral, but not indifferent as he slipped back out the tent's flap door. As the rain outside continued to patter over the crumbled city block, you could just barely make out the sound of a lighter striking. The last things you noted clearly before exhausted sleep took you once more, willing or no, was the gentle roll of thunder still electrifying the air, the warm leak of Charon's cum running down your inner thigh.

Next pit stop, he was going to owe you big time.

[mistermistyyy]

As much as I 100% agree with everyone who argues that we should have gotten more screentime for the women of TOS (Commanders Chapel and Rand) or for Saavik and David, I feel the character who got done dirtiest by the movies was Dr. Marcus.

She was such an interesting character, both in terms of her relation to Kirk and her goals with Project Genesis. She absolutely could have grown and been one of the best TOS era characters ever if given more development in future films, but no. We don't even see her in Search for Spock. The movie where her damn son dies. And she didn't even come back in Undiscovered Country?? The movie where David's death is a pivotal piece of Kirk's character arc??

Apparently she was supposed to appear in Search for Spock, but they snipped her out of the movie seemingly for budget cuts, and because she was "extraneous" which feels like such a shitty thing to do to the character, in a movie with a plotline set on Genesis (which she created) that features the death of her son. Her actress, Bibi Besch apparently was very disappointed that we never got any sort of closure with Marcus, and she's damn right! Apparently she was supposed to be in Generations but was cut out because... idk we can't have nice things?? (Also not the movie's fault, but the fact she passed on only two years after being cut from Generations feels so unfair to Besch. Rest in peace.) Also nobody bring up Into Darkness. I haven't seen it, but I already know they did her real dirty in that one.

[sineala]

Are there ANY stony/Star Trek AUs?

Okay. Um. I'm just going to assume this is a legitimate question and not actually a way to express frustration about my progress on the sequel I am writing (I stared at this ask for a while), so I will just conclude that you must have missed the Steve/Tony Star Trek AU I wrote, um, back in 2016:

Straight on till Morning (109848 words) by Sineala Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Avengers (Comics) Rating: Explicit  Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark  Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Carol Danvers, Janet Van Dyne, Hank Pym, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Clint Barton, Donald Blake (Marvel), Jocasta (Marvel)  Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Action/Adventure, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pining, Angst, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Caves, Sex In A Cave, Technobabble, Happy Ending, Cap_Ironman Big Bang 2016, Community: cap_ironman, Podfic Available  Summary: 

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive. 

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

So, yeah, if you actually haven't read that one, that'll keep you busy for a while. It's a Trek fusion with comics Steve/Tony, set in the era of the later TOS movies. (This is important so that you can picture the correct uniforms, and also because it actually matters that the events of Star Trek II, III, and IV have happened.) It was a Big Bang fic, so it's got some great art by Ran and Phoenix -- embedded in the story -- and also M_Samro made a really amazing podfic of it, if you like podfics.

For a charity auction in 2017, I promised I would write a sequel, and I plotted the whole thing out and started writing this extremely epic sequel, which was unfortunately, about a plague threatening the galaxy, and I got about 120,000 words in and then 2020 happened and I decided I needed to not be writing it right now. So it went on an extended hiatus.

But the good news is that I've actually gotten back to it! I picked it up again last month and I've put 40,000 more words in it since then and at this exact moment I am currently working on the last scene of Chapter 4 (out of six total)! I swear it is happening! I've been putting in about a thousand words a day for the past month! It is really happening this time! The sequel is coming! I promise! I know it has been years but it's happening!

See? It's happening! (I would include a screencap of the part that is happening, but all of Chapter 4 is pretty spoilery.)

So that will exist! Someday! I mean that!

And if you're asking about Steve/Tony Star Trek AUs by people other than me, there are some! If you filter the AU - Star Trek Fusion tag by Steve/Tony, there are 25 matches. Several of them are related to my fic (remixes, art) but there is some stuff that isn't my fault! I haven't read a lot of them because I was trying not to read things that seemed like they might be similar to mine while I was plotting my series here, and also I have never finished watching DS9, so I skipped the DS9 ones.

Under Stars by vulcanscully: A fun fusion that I thought was interesting because Steve is an ensign and that's not how this usually goes.

Discovery of the Century by DepressingGreenie: More 616 in flavor than a lot of the Trek AUs, this is basically Finding Steve In The Ice but Make It Star Trek. As far as I am concerned, Finding Steve In The Ice is great every time.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza: I'm probably biased because this one was inspired by my fic, but I also really enjoyed this one for not being how these things usually go. A lot of Trek AUs in many fandoms are written through a TOS/AOS kind of lens and will often do a Kirk/Spock thing and make one of them a Vulcan or half-Vulcan. In this one that's Tony, but also he's a terrible Vulcan! He's found a new way to disappoint his father!

Stellar Love Affairs by AvengersNewB: I honestly had never imagined a Star Trek fusion that was also A/B/O but I think it really works here! It's like bringing pon farr full circle.

Xenophilia by Captain_Panda: Captain_Panda has several Trek AUs but I am reccing this one because it's the longest. And also the whumpiest. Everyone loves some good away-mission whump!

So there you go! Live long and prosper! I promise I am still writing this Star Trek AU sequel!

[omgthatdress]

Apparently, Molly is low-key a major gay icon, and honestly, I get it. After all, Molly did *really* like her pretty teacher, Miss Campbell. If you think about it, it makes sense that lot of future lesbians would absolutely love Molly. Most dolls in the 90s were hyper-feminine princess dolls, and Molly was... not. I’d imagine the market for girls who want to play with dolls that aren’t pretty pink princesses is pretty large and the supply is pretty small. Just like there’s plenty of boys out there who want to play with something other than GI Joes. Molly (and AG in general) fits neatly into that market, which I’m sure is why she was so successful.

Last year, with its re-launch of the classic dolls, AG put a post on it’s instagram, “To all the Molly girls in the world, we see you and celebrate you,” which a lot of folks on Twitter took to see as confirmation that Molly was gay. When asked if they just outed Molly, AG gave a very non-committal reply. AG has always had a distinctly feminist slant, but it’s only ever toed the line of actually being LGBT inclusive. So far the only actual inclusion we’ve seen from them is a Girl of the Year with a pair of gay aunts. Even that tiny whiff of queerness was enough to set off a frothing horde of angry conservative moms screaming for a boycott. Since Mattell is only motivated by profit, I doubt we’ll get more representation any time soon, but we can dream.

Anyway, World War II was pretty gay to begin with.

A lot of historians point to WW2 as the starting point of the modern gay rights movement because before it, you had very many people living on isolated farms and never going very far from home in their lifetimes. With mass recruitment of men into the military, gay servicemen were able to find other men like themselves and build a community. It was much the same way for women who went to work in factories, joined the WAC or WAVES, and joined women’s baseball leagues. That’s right, the league of their own was gay as FUCK.

As far as Molly’s fashion goes, I love her lack of pink. I’m glad there’s a doll out there that isn’t hyper-gendered, and I wish there were more dolls like her out there.

With sweaters coming into fashion in the 1920s and 30s, the sweaters of the 40s started to see more complex and colorful knits coming into style.

Much of the fashion of this era was dominated by frugality. Europe’s couture houses were shut down, and fabric was rationed. Hems were shortened and baggy cuts and useless frills were done away with. Britain introduced the “Utility Scheme” which hired designers to make chic ensembles using as few resources as possible. Because of this, separates and outfits that could be made with scraps of fabric were very popular, and at-home knitting and sewing continued to be highly popular.

“After the United States entered World War II in 1941, companies began to experiment with various materials in anticipation of rationing and shortages. This example is a prototype from Nina-Fay Foundations, which uses plastic for closures and stays instead of the usual metal. Although metal was not ultimately rationed, the company was experimenting with alternatives to metal zippers and hooks in the event that it was needed for the war effort.”

(The Met Museum)

Women were taking men’s jobs and taking on masculine roles

But they were still expected to maintain a certain level of femininity, “To give our boys something to fight for.”

Because of all of this, the gender politics of the 1940s are really complicated and interesting.

[garroth-is-done]

Gene A. Santos, Aged 17.

Spiritual Age: 1,017

Pre-Shadow Knight Turning:

A delinquent 17 year old junior at Phoenix Drop High School. Leader of a small gang called “The Shadow Knights”, named after undead knights of the 2nd Ireneian Era. He is largely considered harmless by teachers and students alike, but he has a mean streak a mile wide. Best not get on his bad side.

He wears a low cut black tank top, a white button up, a pair of khakis, a red belt with a custom made belt buckle reading “SK”, and a pair of beat up combat boots (he claims them to be steel toed). His hair and eyes are a dark blue color; he has a large mole on his right cheek, and a hawk moth tattoo on his chest. (No one knows how he got it, but they suspect Sasha Worsham, 16, to have done it) He is scowling at the viewer, best not approach him.

Post-Shadow Knight Turning:

A cold and calculating young man, often found bullying other students; even the ones older than him. He can always be found with his lackeys and “boyfriend”Laurence Zvhal (Aged 15, sophomore), Sasha Worsham (Aged 16, sophomore), and Zenix Argos (Aged 14, freshman). Students will quickly vacate a hallway or room when they see them coming for fear of being beaten up or having their things stolen. Gene himself rarely does more than taunt the target, but he’s been known to get violent if his words don’t do the job.

He suddenly made a complete 180 after missing a week of school right after Halloween. He is always in perfect dress code, minus a black turtle neck underneath his uniform; becoming cadgey and aggressive if someone asks about it. His hair and eyes have also changed color, becoming a dark purple. His skin is much paler, almost grey in appearance, and the mole is now missing from his cheek. His expression seems almost vacant, as if he was miles away from where he is standing. He still looks moments away from lashing out; don’t talk to him.

Shadow Knight Form:

The second most aggressive of the local cryptids that have shown up in Phoenix Drop. It is safe to approach, but be cautious, as it will not attack unless provoked. It has the capability to speak, but not in a language anyone who has encountered it can understand. Unlike “the Avenger” it will not intervene if you are in trouble, instead either watching from the sidelines or even joining in if it’s already in a bad mood. It is currently named and referred to in the media as “The Speaker”.

It wears dark red armor, akin to “The Avenger’s”. It is lined with the same glowing trim mimicking lava, minus a glowing red ring around its throat. Its hair has smoke-like properties, and it is known to entirely encase an area in it to escape from those attempting to document it. It bares a set of forward facing horns (much like a bull’s) and twin tails alight with fire on the ends that it can use to attack. There is glowing red veins sprouting from the glowing ring around its neck; and its eyes are bright red with a yellow sclera. It is smiling and you can hear a feint chuckle emanating from it. Do not engage if possible.

(Part 2 of the “They Aren’t A Myth” AU)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 22 Glass Shard

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Injury, Blood

“Don’t take it out!” You swatted Daryl’s hands away from a large glass shard protruding from his right side. “You might bleed out. We don’t know if it hit anything vital.” He scowled at you and murmured something you couldn’t hear but dropped his hands to his sides. “Shouldn’t be picking fights.”

“Ain’t pickin’ no fights. We needed the meds n’ we got ‘em.” He snapped, walking toward the bike with his left hand below the injury. 

“Wait a minute! You can’t possibly think you’re driving us back like that!”

He looked at you like you’d sprouted another head. “Why wouldn’ I?”

Lord, give me patience. Don’t give me strength because I’ll kill him. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been stabbed, Daryl. You’re bleeding. When someone bleeds a lot, they sometimes pass out. I’d rather not be behind you on a fricking motorcycle if that happens.”

Scowling again. Typical. “Ain’t gon’ pass out. Le’s go.”

You started to follow but decided against it. Appeasing his pride would get you both killed. Planting your feet, you crossed your arms. “No.”

Daryl had thrown his leg over and plopped heavily onto the seat, raising his brows at your brazen refusal. “Wha’?”

“You heard me. I said no.”

“Woman, don’ make me leave ya here.”

“You would never.” Your eyes narrowed in challenge, flickering down toward his boot when he toed up the kickstand. He really would never, right? When he started the engine, you really started to doubt but would not be swayed. He was already pale and sweaty, droplets of blood pooling behind his boot. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. Daryl cared about you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t leave you. 

He watched you with a stoic expression, only faltering once you stood straighter. He must look like shit if you wouldn’t trust him to get the both of you home. Lowering the kickstand, he shut off the bike. “Wha’s the plan?”

You blinked at him. 

“Ya let me start up the bike n’ make enough noise ta attract ev’ry walker in there n’ ya didn’t have a plan?” 

“Well I didn’t exactly think you’d try to bully me into letting you kill us, Daryl!” You dropped your arms and looked around while he muttered to himself. You spotted a pick up next to the gate. It must have belonged to the men that attacked you. The driver’s door was still open. Maybe they just happened to leave the keys and you wouldn’t need to hotwire the stupid thing. “Wha’re ya doin’ now?” The archer called after you when you sprinted toward the truck. 

You leaned inside with a spirited ‘yes!’ upon finding the keys in the ignition. Next up: fuel. “Please be enough. Please be enough.” You turned the key and watched the fuel gauge before leaning out. “Will just below half get us back?”

“Should.” He yelled back, getting off the bike. He stumbled but caught himself, leaving your heart hammering. You definitely couldn’t drag him to the passenger side, much less get him in there.

Climbing back out, you jogged over to help him. “Let’s get the bike in the back and I’ll drive, okay.”

Daryl only nodded. You pushed down your concern and opened the tailgate, helping him lift the bike into the back. Damn thing was fucking heavy but if you were hauling it, that was the only way to get it loaded. Panting, you closed it up just in time to see the man beside you sway on his feet. 

“Whoa!” Small hands grabbed his shoulders to steady him. “You okay? You’re looking a little pekid.” He was panting just as hard as you were, which wasn’t a shocker since the two of you just bench pressed a 400 pound bike into the back of a pickup. Probably not the best idea when one of you has a large piece of glass playing poke-the-vital-organ. 

He lifted his hands to gently grab your wrists, lowering your arms from his shoulders. “M’fine. Le’s jus’ get outta ‘ere. We got company.” A nod toward the area behind you had you turn toward the group of walkers approaching. 

“Okay, hop in.” You walked around him but slowed your steps to make sure he made it all the way to the passenger door. Sure, he was using the truck to steady himself the entire way but he finally climbed inside. You quickly slid behind the wheel and started up the engine. Once you pulled out onto the road, a little of the anxiety churning inside your chest dissipated. “We’ll get back just after dark, I think. Get Hershel to take a look at you.”

When he no more than hummed in reply, you glanced over at him. His head was against the window, eyes closed, lips parted to release shallow pants of breath. His skin glistened with sweat while holding a sickly pallor in stark contrast to the dark circles around his eyes. You would bet anything that if you touched his skin, it would be cold.

“Daryl? Daryl, your wound. How’s your wound?” You asked frantically, trying to split your attention between him and the road. 

“S’fine, Y/N. Jus’ drive.” 

“Let me see.” You requested softly, still trying to stay on course. 

“Drive. M’fine.” Daryl replied. He hadn’t opened his eyes at all. 

Mindful that neither of you were wearing seatbelts, you slowed to a stop and turned in the seat, grabbing at him to turn where you could see. He was slow to open his eyes. 

“Knock it off. Why we stopped?” The shove he gave you was gentle but enough to put some space between you. He didn’t expect you to come right back, this time to roughly grab his vest and pull him down across the seat. 

“You pulled it out?!” You yelled, pressing your hand over the steadily bleeding wound. His blood coated the interior of the door, the seat, and had puddled on the floor. “I said not to take it out, Daryl!”

“Didn’.” He replied quietly, sounding more than tired. “Got…got pulled out loadin’ the bike.”

You gaped at him. “And you didn’t think to say something?”

“Didn’ wanna worry ya. ‘Sides, m’fine.” His eyes slowly closed. “Doc’ll fix…me…righ’…”

“Daryl?” You kept one hand on the wound and used the other to shake him. “Daryl?! Goddamnit!” Peeling off your flannel overshirt, you folded it and pressed it against the injury, laying his arm over it to hold it in place. You climbed back behind the wheel, glad to have him lying across the seat so you could check his pulse while you hauled ass back to the prison. 

You found yourself carding your fingers through his hair, stroking his jaw, feeling his pulse, anything that let you know he was right there. His skin was so cold, his breaths so shallow that you could hardly feel the exhale at all. 

When the prison was within sight, you almost didn’t even stop to let them open the gates. 

Carol found you pacing outside by the picnic benches three hours after you had returned with Daryl. Three hours after you had leapt from the cab of the truck screaming for help. Three hours after you had collapsed to your knees watching Rick and Glenn carry Daryl inside. Three hours after you couldn’t find a pulse.

“He’s alive, Y/N.” The woman said softly. She sat down on top of one of the tables and watched you. You were thankful she had led with that but still couldn’t bring yourself to stop wearing a hole into the concrete. 

“But?” You weren’t naive. There was something more if she wanted to give you the good news first. Wanted you calmer. A very Carol tactic. You loved her for it but couldn’t entertain it. Not now. 

Carol could sense that. “Whatever he was stabbed with nicked his liver. Hershel was able to repair it but there was some internal bleeding. Hey,” she reached out to grab your hand. “He lost a lot of blood so he’s not out of the woods yet but he’s tough.”

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” You laughed wryly. “Everyone thinks he’s invincible, so he feels like he has to be. He didn’t even tell me that he was bleeding out, Carol. He was just gonna sit there and…and…”

“Okay, okay, come here.” Carol pulled you to sit next to her, hugging you tightly. “You’re right. We need to make sure he knows that it’s okay to need help.” Pulling you back by your shoulders, she swept your hair out of your face. “And when he is better, we’ll get to work on that, okay?” You nodded, allowing her to wipe away your tears. “He’ll be okay.”

You sniffled and nodded again, more softly than the first time. “Can I see him?”

Daryl made it through the night. Hershel had said his chances of a full recovery only increased after that. You hadn’t slept much, but couldn’t bring yourself to close your eyes just yet. So you just sat in a chair by the bunk with your head lying on the mattress by his hand. Your own hand looked so small wrapped around his, your skin so much paler than his tan. You counted any freckles you found on his arm. You even cleaned from underneath his nails. 

Carol eventually came by with two bowls of oatmeal. You thanked her quietly while never raising from your spot. True to form, she came over and kissed the top of your head, giving your shoulder a squeeze. Her dainty hand then on Daryl’s bicep, gently rubbing up to his shoulder and back down before she walked out of the cell. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. When you opened your eyes again, it was dark inside the cell. An almost burned out candle filled the room with dancing shadows but it was the eyes that reflected the flame that had your attention. 

“Daryl!” You leaned closer, touching his face, his neck, anywhere you could while his eyes followed you. “I’m so glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” His voice was rough from sleep and lack of use. He coughed weakly, face scrunching in pain before smoothing out again. “Thirsty.”

“Be right back.” You jogged from the cell to fetch some water and to let Hershel know Daryl had finally awoke. The veterinarian came not long after you had finished settling Daryl against the pillows once he had taken a few sips. 

“Blood pressure is a little lower than I’d like but that’s likely from the blood loss. Everything else looks real good, son.” He patted Daryl’s leg before standing with his crutches. “I’m sure you know you’re benched for a while though.”

“Yeah, figured.” Daryl shrugged a shoulder. He looked as though he could fall back asleep at any given moment. 

“Alright. I’ll check in tomorrow morning. Get some rest.” The older man stopped beside you and added “the both of you.” You gave him a nod and wished him goodnight. 

“Ya okay?” Daryl asked before you could even sit back down. You chose to sit on the edge of the mattress instead of the chair. 

“I’m fine now that I know you’re okay. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He answered quietly, his gaze falling away from yours. He knew exactly what you weren’t saying. “You should have told me.” 

“Hey.” You reached up to brush his hair away from his face, smiling and letting your hand come to rest on his cheek. “Don’t worry. We will be talking about this but I won’t yell at you until you feel better.”

“S’real comfortin’, Y/N.” His smirk was half-assed at best, either from fatigue or guilt. 

“I know. I have a great bedside manner.” You beamed. Getting to your feet, you moved closer to his own and crawled onto the bed and across his legs to his left side. He turned his head to watch you, each blink lasting longer than the one before it. 

“Guess it ain’t half bad.”

“Oh come on, it’s phenomenal. What other caregiver’s gonna crawl in bed with you and snuggle?”

“Hope ta hell Hershel don’ take notes from ya.”

“He had a hard time with the missing foot but you two looked super cozy when my shift began.” You snorted when he shrugged the shoulder you had cuddled against, jarring you back a little. 

“I can’ stand ya sometimes.”

“Pft, you love me.” You nuzzled your nose against his cheek before kissing it. He huffed a tired laugh and let his eyes drift shut. 

“Eh, I migh’.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked. “You might what? Daryl?” The only replies were his deep, even breaths. You laid your head back against his shoulder and watched him, biting back a wide smile. Now you had even more to talk about. 

[hayffiebird]

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: Happy Hayffieweek! I won't technically participate but at least you get a ToS chapter. :) A big thank you and a big hug to you sweethearts reading and responding to this story.

You're the best and I'm so grateful! If you were here I'd follow in the prep team's footsteps and invite you over for tea and a batch of Peeta's yummiest cookies. ;)

Chapter 49, In vino veritas

*ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep**ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep* *ring ring*

Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but …

*click*

Hello? … um, helloo?

Hi Octavia …

Oh, there you are! I was getting really worried about you! Been calling for almost five minutes.

Sorry. It’s … I was in the bathroom.

Of course you were. Silly young me! I’m getting ready here too. You all set? Such a thrilling day! Aren’t you so excited? Oh, the twins will LOVE the Summer Breeze! We can’t bring them on any of the roller coasters of course. Flavius always puke anyway. But there are still plenty of “baby-friendly” rides to go around. The Love Tunnel. Lucretius’s Magic Carpet. The teacups. Hey, maybe it’ll even help with your little problem? And we couldn’t have asked for better weather, right? Everything’s perfect! Octavia, listen …

But before anything else, I need your advice on something. I’m sitting by my vanity – as we speak – and I cannot for the life of me decide which earrings to wear! On the one hand, I’ve got these spectacular neotropical scarlet macaws. You know, the famous red, blue and yellow parrot? Gorgeous. Obviously! But then I also own a pair of silver sea turtles with amethysts and well … you see my conundrum. What do you think? Which one of these will make me the prettiest girl at the fair?

I … I wouldn’t know …

Oh, don’t sell yourself short! Next to me and Flavius and Venia, you’re by far the number one expert on beauty! Come on, Effie, this is important to me! I can’t show up looking ghastly.

Course not … you …

I’m leaning toward the birds, naturally. You know, because colors are so colorful and fun. But then again, if I save the turtles for the Aquarium, won’t it be a cliché? Maybe I should go with the amethysts after all. But if I do, what if people think … Octavia, look … I … I know how excited you are about today but … I don’t think I can make it.

Wait, what?

I don’t feel very well and the twins … they aren’t even dressed to go out yet.

Are you ill? *gasps* It’s not contagious, is it? Because I cannot under any circumstances be sick this week.

No, no. Don’t worry. It’s just a migraine.

Have you had enough to drink today? Maybe you’re dehydrated? Don’t worry. Flavius and Venia and I will take the twins for a walk and you can treat yourself with a nice, long nap. It’ll invigorate you in no time.

Thank you, but I feel I must take this day for myself. Raincheck? Doesn’t mean you three can’t have fun.

But it wouldn’t be the same without you! Or the children! *tsks* Effiie! We had it all planned out!

I’m sorry.

Flavius will be so disappointed! He wanted to spin the chocolate wheel. *gives a heavy sigh* I guess, we’ll just have to try and find something else to do, somehow. But it won’t be as fun. Take care of yourself, sweetie.

You too. Give my love to the others.

Mm. As soon as I’ve figured out how to break it to them. What a day. No cotton candy. No stuffies for the twins. Nothing. *sighs again* Bye, Effie dear. Get well soon.

Bye.

*toot toot*

xXx

“… and they lived happily ever after.”

Effie whispered the words, lying on her side next to them on the bed.

Sandy hair fell over Ian’s forehead when he rolled in toward her, seeking his mother’s closeness and warmth. Effie dropped a butterfly kiss to his skin.

The girl gave a soft whine. Crinkled her face up from whatever dream she was having. Her chest rose and fell in puffy little breaths as she opened and closed her fists.

“It’s OK, precious”, Effie whispered. Ever so gently she caressed a light fingertip between Amy’s closed eyes and down her nose.

A trick that Sae once taught her. It never failed to help settle the girl down. That and papa Haymitch’s strong, safe embrace. “It’s OK to sleep. I’m here. Mama’s here. Everything will be alright.”

Her own eyelids felt dipped in lead. What she wouldn’t do to just crawl under these covers and sleep the day away. Today and the rest of the week, for that matter.

She knew she shouldn’t have lied to Octavia. About the migraine. But what else could she say?

Certainly not the truth. “I’m sorry Octavia but Haymitch is slowly destroying his brain with alcohol as we speak and if you drag me into an amusement park for three hours I’ll end up on the news, having a nervous breakdown right in front of all those poor chocolate-sticky children. My own included.”

No. It was better this way. Better for all involved.

She nuzzled Ian’s skin. Caressed Amy’s hand between her thumb and forefinger.

“What are they doing now, you think?” she whispered to her children’s sleeping faces. “Uncle Flavius and aunt Octavia and aunt Venia. Enjoying a ride on the Ferris Wheel perhaps?”

She saw it as clearly as she did Amy and Ian.

The three of them, snuggled together in a passenger car. Heading for the place of birds. Giggles. Chatter. Bowls of buttered popcorn, warm to the touch. And down below: a spectacular view of the city. The river. The distant Capitol mountains.

Because of course they never cancelled. She didn’t believe it for a second. They’d been looking forward to this all week long. Especially Flavius. And the tickets were already bought and paid for.

Maybe Haymitch is right, she thought unhappily. Maybe they will grow tired and move on.

The possibility stung, but who could blame them? She hadn’t exactly been fun company lately.

R-i-i-ng!

The bell only just managed to break through her haze.

Not the phone. The front door. Far, far away – in a different life it seemed. Effie closed her eyes. Curled into the twins. Like a baby still in the womb. Nose in Ian’s soft, angel hair. Hand around Amy’s.

Her mother all but cleared her throat, telling her to go get the door, but Effie shrugged her off.

Just this once, she wasn’t going to care. Whoever it was, whatever they wanted – it could wait. Ill-mannered? So be it.

R-i-i-ng!

Her brows came together, eyes still promptly shut.

It’s not the prep team, she thought, despite herself. Way too discreet.

Their rings were always forceful. Insistent. Headache or no.

Couldn’t be Haymitch either. Doorbells equaled decorations in his book. He walked straight in.

That day when he showed up at her doorstep, out of the blue, hours before they made love in a bed for the first time, he’d pressed the bell. But that was a rare thing.

A sort of honeymoon treatment he definitely gave up on after she’d slept with him long enough to have his babies.

Maybe it’s Mrs Pluckrose.

Effie swallowed a sigh.

Yes, her delightful neighbor. Going on and on about how someone didn’t bother to mow their lawn this week and “we uphold a certain standard around here, Ms Trinket, in case you forgot”.

R-i-i-ng!

Oh, go away. Eyes squeezed shut, Effie pressed her lips together, willing her to leave. Just let me sleep.

Maybe the person – whoever it was – heard her thoughts, for a fourth ring never followed.

Effie caressed her daughter’s hair, breathing a sigh of relief. Silence resumed. She had almost gathered her thoughts when,

Tap-tap!

Startled, her eyes flew to the window.

She’d pulled the curtains shut earlier but behind them – a shadow was moving. Face shrouded in darkness, silhouetted by the brilliant sun.

Heart pounding, Effie sat up in bed.

“Who is it?”

And on the other side of the glass, a woman replied,

“Don’t be alarmed, ma’am. I’ve just got a delivery for you.”

Effie inched the curtain aside. Then some more.

Face tilted, the lady smiled as they came eye to eye.

“Thought someone was home”, she said. “What with the stroller out front.”

Effie blinked at the beaming lady, standing there in her flower bed.

Stout. Burly. Dressed in a lavender uniform and carrying what looked like some kind of gift basket wrapped up in cellophane and tied with ribbons.

She looked about Venia’s age. Dark skin. Silver mascara. Purple hair gathered in a ponytail.

A name was stitched on the side of her chest. Effie squinted at the letters. “Briar Rose”.

Briar Rose! Same as Snow’s youngest daughter.

“Oh, don’t hold it against me”, the lady said lightly when she saw her look. “We don’t all get to choose our own names. Besides”, she added, “the story it derives from goes back way beyond the Snow’s dynasty.”

Effie hesitated, then reached for the hooks on the window. Opened it ever so carefully.

“I just put my babies down”, she said, under her breath.

The woman called Briar Rose, nodded.

“I’ll make it brief then.”

“I didn’t order anything though.”

“Well, it says right here, ‘Effie Trinket’, and there’s only one Effie Trinket in the city, right?” The woman sounded almost amused.

“Yes?”

“Then I’ve come to the right place.”

Briar Rose settled the gift basket against the windowsill.

Effie’s eyes were instantly drawn to the sealed envelope attached to it.

A match of hope struck inside her.

“From District 12?”

“I’m afraid not.” The cellophane rustled quietly under the woman’s hands. Purple nails that matched her hair, Effie noticed. “Sorry I startled you before”, Briar Rose went on. “I know this is most irregular, but they said you were feeling a little under the weather. That I had to make sure you got it.”

“They?”

The woman smiled.

“You must have some generous friends indeed. Sign here, please.”

Alone again, Effie settled on the bed. Basket on her lap.

Aphrodite’s Beauty Spa. The famous logo was printed along the ribbon. The envelope had one word written on it. Effie. In beautiful calligraphy letters.

She swallowed and swallowed.

Not a gift basket.

A wellness basket.

Eyes burning, stinging, like standing too close by a smoky fire, she carefully turned it from side to side. Peered at the items through the cellophane.

Packets of dried herbs and flower petals. Bottles of essential lavender oil. Scented candles. Coconut oil. Body cream infused with vanilla. Aromatic soaps shaped like water lilies, so small they fit on your palm.

Bath bubbles and bath salt. Lip smackers. Face masks, bath sponges in three different colors and, shoulder to shoulder with a set of fluffy baby-soft hand towels: a neat package of wrapped up boiled lemon sweets.

With trembling hands, Effie opened the envelope. Got out the card, printed with a field of gorgeous sunflowers.

Her eyes travelled from left to right and as she read, her face crinkled up, shoulders beginning to shake with silent sobs.

She tried to be quiet. Didn’t want to wake the children. But despite her great efforts, she couldn’t quite keep the small, strangled sounds from escaping her throat.

More and more tears just rolled down her cheeks, dropped from her chin and into the wellness basket.

All that built-up heartache for months and months, if not years just … poured through her eyes.

Dear Effie

We’re so sorry you’re feeling unwell. Staying in bed when you don’t want to, is just the worst (especially when you can’t also have sex with a hottie). You know Flavius would offer but he’s just not that into redheads. At least not this season. And sometimes rest, real rest, is all you need to really bounce back again. And you will, darling.

Now try and sleep as much as you can and, when you’re ready, go pour yourself a nice, warm bath. Add some oil, some petals, light a candle and just relax and unwind in the bubbly water.

Once you’re back on your feet, you have our numbers. We’ll bring dinner and iced tea and then we can play a game of Scrabble together. Won’t that be fun? If we can keep the twins from eating up the pieces, that is.

Take care of yourself, dear!

Love

Octavia, Flavius and Venia

PS: Don’t worry about the tickets. Flavius knows someone who works at the Breeze. We got a full refund. The fair will always be there and who knows? Maybe next time, Haymitch might want to join!

xXx

*ring ring*

… Mm?

Eff? Did I wake ya?

Mm.

Oh, shit. Fuck. Didn’t realize how late it was. ’m sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll call y’up some other time.

You’re here now. What do you want?

Just tell ya … well, how sorry I um ... for bein’ sucha a dick afore.

You really were. Even by your standard.

Yeah … *slurs* those three odd birdies really bring out the worst in me. Go figguh.

*sighs* Haymitch, if all you’re going to do is joke around, might as well hang up now. I’m not in the mood.

No, no. I won’t. Come on, Effs. Don’t be so snippy. You know me. You know how I really feel about things. *hick* Didn’t even mean what I said ‘bout the prep.

Good.

Well … ma’be some of it, but like … not the stuff that were like really mean. Honest, swee… I mean Eff. They’re your friends. I wants you to have friends. If they wanna come over and sing n read n … do theatre, that’s fine.

…

It’s just … I should be doin’ those things!

I know.

I shoulda been there for Am’s first word! What’s next? Ian’s gon’ start callin’ Flavius “papa”? I’m glad someone’s there helpin’ ya out. I am, but damn it … it should be me! Right? Why can’t I be a part of their life too? I’m their father!

You know why, Haymitch.

But I ‘aven’t been drinkin’ all that much lately. Honest! And there are ways around it.

It’s not that simple.

Why couldn’t it be? I know I ain’t perfect, sweetheart. I know I’m not good at it like you are but … don’t ‘ey need me too? Just a lil’ bit? I mean, come on! You said I could see ‘em if I was sober.

And you’re not!

I would be. If you were here. And it’s not like they know wha’s goin’ on, anyway. They’re babies, Eff. Even if I had a cold one right in front of ‘em it wouldn’t affect or hurt ‘em. I won’t fuck ‘em up. I won’t!

That’s what you need to believe in order to sleep at night.

Why’d ya have to be so mean, I already said I’m sorry!! *sobs* I cleaned the house up. Tha’s where I was before. Ask Peeta if you don’t believe me. Whole fuckin’ place: spick and span now. I don’t even live with Sae no more. All week long I just wash everything. Threw out a mountain o’ crap. G-got all their toys ready, so you and … you … Effs, I can’t live like this! It feels like a part of me’s been cut off! I need to see my kids. Bring the prep team along if you must, I’ll wait on them hand and foot, just … please come home! You can’t keep punishing me like this, Eff. It’s too cruel. *sobs* They’re my children too.

I’m not being cruel. I’m just trying to keep this family afloat. Haymitch, I know you’re hurting … but this isn’t about you. Or me. It’s about them. What’s best for them. *draws a deep breath* Look … what we can do or at least try is buy a videophone and install it in the nursery. That way you can both see and talk to each other.

*sniffs* For real? You promise? Yeah … yeah, that’d be great!

But, Haymitch! You need to show me that you’re serious about it, OK? You have to be a grownup here. A real parent. If we do this and you disappoint them …

I won’t! Never!

No showing up drunk. Or hungover. And if we say Tuesday at 2PM that means Tuesday 2PM. No excuses!

No excuses. I swear.

We’ll try that for a while and if you can make it work – then we can talk some more about the prospect of you visiting. But you have to earn it, Haymitch. You must do the work. You.

Yeah, totally! Absolutely! *wipes his nose* Can I tell ‘em g’night? I won’t wake ‘em or anything. Just g’night?

Not when you’re like this. Tomorrow maybe. We’ll talk then. You and I for sure. Now, put that bottle down, Haymitch and go to sleep. Or if not sleep then at least try and rest. Lay down on the bed or the couch and close your eyes. Things will feel different in daylight.

Can you at least tell ‘em I love ‘em? I mean, like … really make sure they know?

I will. Of course. I already do. Every day.

Author's note: And Haymitch's destructive cycle has gone full circle again, only to start over AGAIN. The Trinket Abernathy family truly is completely codependent. What do you think will happen next? Tell me in the comments!

Also, anyone else feeling curious about this Briar Rose character? She was supposed to just be the delivery woman in this one scene but I have a strong feeling this isn't the last we'll ever see of her.

[very-bad-poetry-captain]

TOS novel book review McCoy edition nr 3 - Shadows on the sun

Cheers to the first tos novel that I seriously considered throwing across the room. Great book though. Set just after the events of The Undiscovered Country so you know McCoy is in his sexy old man era and he did for sure suffer a lot. Perhaps too much. 💔

Link to the previous review

Title: Shadows on the sun

Author: Michael Jan Friedman (also wrote Double, double among other things)

Year published: 1993

Content warning: graphic depictions of dead and dying people, for example in war zones and assassinations.

Plot summary in two sentences:

I can't believe they made him suffer this much on the way home after The Undiscovered Country ended. My god, there are limits to how much suffering this man (and I) can survive.

Alternatively

The Enterprise is sent to resolve a conflict on the planet Ssan, home to a religious-like group of assassins who are trying to take back power, because the last time this war happened McCoy was sent there as an emergency medic (his first deployment pretty much) and therefore he knows a thing or two about the culture there unlike Jocelyn's new husband who sucks a lot even though he and Jocelyn make up the diplomatic team meant to actually resolve the conflict. Includes McCoy's backstory of his time as a young medic on his first assignment to the active war zone that Ssan was back then as well as a lot of sexual tension with his ex-wife.

Official plot summary:

Dr. Leonard McCoy confronts his past and the wife he left behind.

///

"The Klingons," insisted McCoy, "are children compared to these assassins..."

///

"The Ssani won't negotiate. Not with the government, not with us, not with anybody." Commodore Montoya leaned back in her chair. "Doctor McCoy is right, gentlemen. It would be a mistake to underestimate the difficulty of what the Federation is asking of you."

"However?" suggested Kirk.

"However," said Montoya, "we are still asking."

This book is for you if you:

Revel in McCoy's neverending suffering

Can ignore that the plot is kinda unresolved (bc the ultimate goal of this book is for McCoy to suffer and the mission kinda solves itself once he's suffered enough)

Can handle the way men wrote women in 1993 (who am I kidding, a lot of authors still do this to women)

Hunger for McCoy backstory

Now, one could make a serious and detailed and very long actual book review about the plot of this book bc I have a million thoughts about it, but alas, this review is about McCoy so I encourage you to read the book. Just be prepared for the risk that it gives you feelings like "I really hate McCoy's ex-wife's husband" and "my god, she did Not deserve That" and "this book is doing things to me and i'm not sure i like it".

The ultimate McCoy questionnaire under the read-more (minor spoilers):

1. Is McCoy in it?

This author's favorite character is McCoy and much like a fanfic writer he uses his powers for pure evil. We could rename this book to "Crimes Against McCoy".

2. Is McCoy in it a lot?

Most of the book is either McCoy's pov or they talk or think about McCoy. This book is about McCoy. It's about McCoy suffering. Suffering now, suffering in the past, yes even giving him lots of things to continue suffering about in the future. If you don't enjoy McCoy being hurt you should probably avoid this book because it's about very little else.

3. Does he get to be concerned over whatever angst has befallen Kirk lately?

Listen Kirk is really happy when this book starts and then he gets kidnapped. Presumed dead. McCoy says out loud that Kirk is (was) one of the two people he loves most in the world so you know things are bad when he starts spewing love confessions out loud. Also, the worst thing that happens to Kirk is Jocelyn telling him the story of how she cheated on McCoy when they were young and I am going crazy over the fact that the author doesn't give Kirk any room to angst about that afterwards. Like does he tell McCoy that he knows the story now? We shall never know. If you read the book you'll understand why I'm tearing my hair out.

4. Does he get to have silly little arguments with Spock?

This book is life or death no silliness allowed. Spock is so so sweet in this book though.

Jim describes their friendship like this:

"To listen to them, you'd probably think they were bitter enemies. But when push comes to shove-and believe, me it has-there's a bond of affection between Spock and McCoy that even I can't fathom. Nor do I try."

Of course they also share some very meaningful eye contact. No words needed etc. I'm sure if it weren't for the utterly depressing plot these two would be happily tearing into each other.

5. Is he the damsel in distress?

Tricky question. Lots of distress for sure. He does get saved from being murdered once, and Spock shows off some Vulcan strength for him, but other than that he's not much of a damsel in this one.

6. Does he suffer, preferably a lot? Physical and/or psychological torment.

I made this list before I read this book, and now I kinda regret the flippant wording. My god, the man suffers. I don't want to spoil things too much but there's retirment angst, injuries, psychological horrors, deaths, and mistakes and regrets and dealing with how much he still loves his ex-wife. Besides, being subjected to Jocelyn's new husband is more than anyone can take, including me. The torment never ends.

7. Does he get to whine and complain and be right about it? Even better, is he wrong about it?

McCoy says "don't do it" but they do it and the consequences are fatal. It's borderline one of those "the plot only happens bc one guy sucks more than is believable or reasonable but on the other hand people like that sadly exist" and that's the part that made me want to throw the book against the wall or sth. Imagine if people listened to McCoy. None of star trek would have happened I guess. Except for the fact that the commodore listens to McCoy which is the reason they get sent a diplomatic team. They should have just let the poor man retire.

8. Does he get to throw some of that southern charm around?

It's always funny when aliens get really into McCoy. He's just there and they're like wow. Is anyone gonna bridge that cultural gap or...

I try to make this sound funny but in reality there's very little charm opportunies in this book. He doesn't need to charm his ex-wife either she still loves him. Obviously. Who wouldn't.

9. Does he get to do some medical malpractice?

The backstory plot when he's an emergency medic on Ssan is really interesting. Some very philosophical questions are asked, including "is it wrong to save a life if according to that person's culture, to do so is the ultimate disgrace towards them?" The alien thinks he's doing a lot of medical malpractice for sure.

10. Does Spock call him illogical or similar?

Spock is like, "Jim, the doctor is sad and I don't know what to do :/" You know a book is serious about making McCoy suffer when Spock is nice to him.

11. Is he forcibly put through his arch nemesis the transporter? Or the dress uniform?

They make special mention of young backstory McCoy being very afraid of transporters. And there's his fear of heights. And Kirk notes that McCoy is upset enough that he isn't even complaining about having to let someone shoot his atoms halfway across the galaxy.

12. Does Kirk call him handsome (joke or not this happens more than you'd think)?

He uses a lot of words like "miserable" and similar.

13. Bonus points if his accent is pronounced and his speech is full of befuddling southern expressions which make Spock question McCoy's sanity (and me wondering if I need a dictionary)

I was too miserable reading this to pay attention

Criticisms/things I'd change

I won't bring up every thought i have bc this post would never end, but the big thing that stands out is that Mr. Friedman starts the foreword claiming that he based Jocelyn on his own wife and how he feels about her, and while I assume he meant the neverending love part, the rest of it made it really weird. Also he wrote Jocelyn into such a trope-y, boring character that I feel bad for her. Justice For Jocelyn my girl deserved better. The plot about the mission and how the backstory tied into it was very good and interesting and philosophical and could have stood on its own. It almost felt like two books in one until the very end. And the ending was... well. I didn't like it. And as usual with star trek the ending came very fast and not enough time was spent on the philosophical questions that had been raised throughout the book. The book suffered a bit from how cliché the part with Jocelyn was.

Highlights:

This guy writes McCoy, Spock and Kirk really well. They feel in character and their interactions were always great. I wish the backstory part was longer bc in my opinion that was the best part of the book, very thought-provoking and a great insight into young McCoy. Of course, the suffering was impeccable even if I'm a little too weak when things get truly dark. Kirk's obvious love and concern for McCoy was a definite highlight I'd say.

Final McCoy meter: 10/10 it can't get worse than this

[worflesbian]

right okay i dont know exactly how persistent an issue this is bc i almost never go into the tags on this website, but even ive noticed this happening so i feel like that’s justification to make a post about it. the whitewashing of julian bashir as an established Thing not just in the fandom but in official merch has been discussed before, but recently i’ve noticed the inverse happening with martok and b’elanna, a white character and a lighter latina character who people seem to often draw darker than they are in canon. and there’s like. a Lot going on there to unpack.

so this video goes into some detail about the racism baked into the origins and design of the klingons in tos, it’s very informative about the anti-asian stereotypes especially in a 60s context but i feel like it doesnt really cover the way that antiblackness becomes a more significant factor in the next gen era so like. if you didn’t know, the majority of the klingon characters in the next gen-ds9-voyager era are either played by actors with dark skin or Very frequently by white actors in heavy dark makeup. if you look up the actors of grilka, alexander, kehleyr, and sirella for example you’ll see what im talking about like the difference is Stark and these are some of the main recurring klingons across both shows. hopefully i do not need to explain why packing white actors in brown makeup to play members of a species characterised as violent, warlike and animalistic is racist. i say hopefully bc who knows with this website. anyway i’d recommend this video for a wider context on the legacy of blackface in tv!

martok is a rare example of a klingon played by a white actor who, as far as i can tell, does not have his skin significantly darkened. so to see him frequently being drawn with darker skin is uh Slightly Concerning given everything in the previous paragraph! ive even seen art where he’s drawn darker than julian in the same post which... anyway im not trying to blanket condemn reinterpreting the design of alien characters in fanart, but i am asking white fans like myself in particular to think critically as to why, out of all the white characters and aliens on ds9, martok is the one you want to do that with.

because b’elanna is not a white character i think its a slightly different situation, but at the same time she does have lighter skin and i have seen fanart of her drawn much much darker and once again, im not condeming it especially in works ive seen which explore the relationship bewteen her latina and klingon identities, but its something white fans need to handle carefully. in the voyager episode Faces where she gets split into a human and klingon version of her (dont have time to unpack all that) you can see the difference in undertones between human b’elanna and klingon b’elanna (also included a pic of regular b’elanna for reference). the brown makeup is obvious here too and if you can see why it might be racist to attribute a person’s rage and violent impulses to a part of themself that is then personified as darker skinned/more brown, then you might also see some of the wider problems going on here and can understand that this is something that demands a lot of thought and consideration.

i’d like to reiterate that this is a very complex and nuanced issue, especially considering the intersection of fictional race within the setting and the racial biases operating behind the scenes/metatextually, and i’d love to discuss it more (and to cite better sources than youtube videos when i have the time). but for now i’d just like to say yeah just ask yourself what the implications might be to drawing these characters in particular darker than they are in canon, especially if theyre the only characters you do that for, or you’re intentionally contrasting them with other characters (e.g. b/7 fanart) or yk. drawing a white character darker than a character of colour like ive seen people do with julian and martok.

[digitalgirlguide]

Kimmy’s Digital Diary: I owe it to myself to be the best version of me possible

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

As we step into the new year of 2024, I think to myself ‘what can I do differently in 2024?’ I’m not one to sit on my hands and wait until a new year started to make changes to my life but I would be lying if I didn't say that the sparkle surrounding the prospect of being an entirely new person in january while reflecting on the year in december didn’t excite me. I’ve been taking my vitamins, getting my ass in the gym, solidifying my beauty routines and trying to become an all around ‘it girl’. BUT it's time to wholeheartedly embrace the essence of the 'it girl era' with even more aggression and tenacity than before. Being mediocre has never been in my cards and I want so much out of this life that I have to do more.

The Enchantment of Your Signature Beauty Routine

The first thing I had to get right was my natural look. My go-to ‘If i have 5 minutes to be outside can I I do it?’ signature makeup look. And this is from someone who just started learning about makeup in 2016…where we did full faces and the thickest eyebrows possible. I had to think about what I wanted my staples to be that would always be in my collection. Now I’m a girl who likes a nice dewy look and whenever I wear makeup people don't even know I’m wearing it!

Think of makeup not merely as a beauty enhancer, but as a canvas for self-expression. Whether you resonate with the 'less is more' philosophy, cherishing a dewy no-makeup makeup look, or you're a glamour enthusiast who wouldn't part with her winged eyeliner for anything, your makeup style is an extension of your identity.

My personal go-tos for my 10 minute routine

FOUNDATION:

Sacha Cosmetics Cream to Powder Foundation- Perfect Spice

e.l.f halow glow liquid filter - 6 tan/deep warm

CONCEALER

e.l.f hydrating camo concealer - medium peach

BLUSH

sacha cosmetics powder blush - claret

SETTING POWDER

sacha cosmetics buttercup setting powder

SETTING SPRAY

urban decay all nighter

Yet, the magic doesn't end there. Scents have an enchanting ability to stir emotions and weave memories. Do you find joy in the freshness of citrus, the elegance of roses, or does the warm, comforting aroma of vanilla speak to your soul? Discovering your signature scent is like leaving traces of your personal brand in every room you enter.

And do not forget to LAYER YOUR FRAGRANCES GIRL.

From the shower gel, to the body lotion to the perfume combinations. Make sure your notes match to create a custom signature scent that will have everybody asking you what fragrance you’re wearing. But we all know, pretty girls don’t share those combinations.

And then, there's your unique style. Whether it aligns with classic chic, boho vibes, or the boldness of street style, your fashion choices should resonate with your personality and instill a sense of empowerment within you.

You don’t have to conform to Tiktok niches but you can mix and match those styles until you get one that feels authentic to YOU. Remember, it’s better to have your own aesthetic than trying to keep up with trends that don't match your personality.

Goal-Getting: Your Moment is Now

Let's shift gears and talk about pursuing your aspirations with unyielding determination. It's the perfect time to outline major goals for the first quarter of the year. Dreaming of launching your own business? Let's sketch out the plan. Eyeing that well-deserved promotion? Let's craft the path towards it. This is undeniably your year, your time to radiate brilliance. Always remember, every achievement begins with the courage to take that first step.

Here are a few tips to staying on top of your studies in 2024:

Use the pomodoro method - its much easier to break things down into smaller chunks than sitting down for hours studying

Invest in cute study supplies (trust me it makes a difference)

Set a study schedule and stick to it

Practice ‘recall’

Have a study scent - to help with recall. Memories are triggered by scent!

Mind and Body Wellness: Embrace Strength Training and Pilates

Exercise is more than sculpting the perfect physique; it's about decluttering your mind and discovering the incredible strength within. Introducing workouts like strength training and Pilates into your routine can be truly transformative.

Strength training empowers you, fostering a sense of strength and capability, and guess what? It contributes to maintaining a harmonious metabolism. On the other hand, Pilates transcends physical fitness; it's an intricate dance between mind and body. Improving flexibility, posture, and even mental wellness, Pilates is a holistic embrace of your well-being.

Let's get into it, The Action Steps

Here's your glow-up game plan:

Curate a beauty regimen that is an authentic reflection of YOU. Remember, it's not about following trends; it's about celebrating what makes YOU feel stunning.

Chart out ambitious goals for Q1. Break them down into manageable tasks and start the journey towards realizing them. Your dreams are deserving of your pursuit.

Infuse strength training and Pilates into your fitness routine. Your body and mind will express gratitude for the nurturing care.

Remember, the path to becoming the best version of yourself is a steady journey, not a hurried sprint. Take each step with intention, celebrate every small victory, and, most importantly, embrace your unique beauty and strength. Here's to a luminous and confident 2024 ✨

[doctornilayxaksoy-esfahani]

𓂀 𝙱𝙻𝚄𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝟶𝟶𝟸 — 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙱𝙾𝙾𝙺.

Varies on her mood, activities, and the season. Typically bohemian/global-inspired and items from global brands, adventurer, vintage, artsy, casual, comfy athletic, dark and light academic, but can also glam it up for the occasion. (As written here, in Nilay's statistics post.)

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂

As mentioned above, Nilay's style could always be described as being bohemian and worldly, adventurer, vintage, artsy, casual, comfy athletic, and academic (light during spring and summer, dark during autumn and winter), and also having the capability to glam up for an occasion, along with stepping outside of her comfort zone. Her style can depend on what she's doing: if she's at work, if she's working out, if she's at home, if she's out and about, if she's exploring; No matter what she's doing, she'll be rather stylish while doing so. Not only that, but Nilay also takes inspiration from her own upbringing and heritage. Essentially, during the summer and how I see her wardrobe, the best way that I can describe her style is "modern-day, real life Princess Jasmine from Disney's Aladdin".

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴 𝙿𝙸𝙴𝙲𝙴𝚂

After growing up in Mardin, Türkiye and spending seventeen years living primarily in Cairo, Egypt, Nilay is a desert girl through and through, and that can be seen through her wardrobe. She knows how to dress for warm weather, typically reaching out for her linen and flowy pieces. When she's at work, she'll typically wear a linen pantsuit that's still sophisticated and keeping her cool. Off-work and out-and-about, Nilay will be reaching for her two-piece sets or a flowy dress. Depending on the day and her mood, her colour scheme is either light colours (sky blue, white, tan, yellow) or bright and bold colours (warm tones and jewel tones). She also especially loves patterns and textiles, and will either incorporate it through a pair of Inkkas shoes or like the bottom two-piece set in the graphic. Either way, Nilay's wardrobe is on the colourful side and she loves having fun with her style. Here are some extra outfits that I can see her wearing during summer; All gifs are from ciceklerveyildizlar (here, here, here, and here), whereas the still pics are from the brands she would shop from (from left to right: Wondery [the Isabel 3.0 Pants in Coral and Borrego Trail Crop Tee in Sand; For when she's hiking, rock climbing, camping, etc.] and Sun Bunny Yoga [Sun Print Sports Bra and Leggings, though she would have everything from this brand to be honest]).

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙴𝚂

Nilay's shoes of choice during the summer are from Inkkas and Jerusalem Sandals. During work, she'll still wear work-appropriated heels, though she might wear either one of Inkkas booties or slip-ons, depending on the day. Below are her go-tos and favourites.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙹𝙴𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚁𝚈

No matter the time of year, Nilay's a gold girlie through and through. She absolutely loves the brands Awe Inspired, Common Era, and Temple of the Sun when it comes to jewelry and wears their items throughout the year. Though, items that she could rarely be seen without, are her Magen David necklace, her locket with a picture of her and Eli with the girls and their cats, her Rhiannon necklace from Awe that Eli gave her and has a matching necklace, at least one of the items from Awe's Egyptian collection or CE's Hathsepsut necklace, multiple rings on her fingers, and either an Evil Eye bracelet or ring.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙸𝚁

Nilay's dark curls are out in full force throughout the summer. Whether keeping it down completely, in an up-do, or half-up/half-down, summer is her curls time to shine and her straightener is locked away for a few months. To help keep her hair beautiful and protected over the summer, her go-to brands are Joon, Izil Beauty, Fable & Mane, and Saphira Hair. Below are her go-to styles; Gifs are from the same account as the outfit gifs above.

🧿𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚄𝙿

Aside from work, special occasions, and if she feels like it, Nilay's keeping minimum on makeup during the summer or completely bare face. When she does wear makeup, however, she keeping things light so that she won't risk it melting off throughout the day. She will play up her eyes and lips, liking to add some colour. The first gif up above is a good example for her makeup. She's a lot more bronzy during the summer and is keeping her skin in good condition thanks to Whind Beauty, so she likes to let that be shown off naturally instead of wearing too much makeup. Also, her scent during the summer for the day is Whind's Oud Davana as a base note and then Amber Tangerine as a top note, then for night time she uses Habibi New York's Royal Saffron Oud as a base note and then Whind's Rose Saffron as a top note.

[babischlong-six]

20 Questions Writer Meme.

tagged by @the-marron <3 Thank you darling <3

How many works do you have on Ao3? Officially? 93. Unofficially, over 120.

What's your total Ao3 word count? 358,732

What fandoms do you write for? Currently Babylon 5, Star Trek (TOS, DS9, ENT), WeiLan Derivs. But there are always more things I get into.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine. (The Merciless: canon-compliant alternating POV of Jaeho/Hyunsoo's relationship, angst and romance) "Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" (Star Trek DS9: Garak and Bashir discuss Jane Austen and Cardassian flirting, humor) The Admiral (Star Trek TOS: Post-TSFS, Spock grapples with the memories he is regaining, introspective) Desperate Times (Star Trek DS9: Set during "Doctor Bashir, I Presume," Garak and Bashir's relationship develops, romance and angst with a happy ending) hold me tight and never let go (Star Trek ENT: Archer and Shran get it on, but alien biology proves to be an unexpected hurdle in the relationship, sexual humor)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? Yes, absolutely. If someone liked my fic enough to tell me about it, I appreciate it! Also a lot of people say interesting or insightful things that I hadn't thought of, or HAD thought of but didn't include, and I'm always down to talk about things I'm interested. It's a great way to make fandom friends!

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh that's a hard one. I'm an angsty writer tbh. There are a lot of fics I've written where one or more characters die. I think one of them would be the Detecive L/The Rebel crossover - We Both Know How This Ends: where two former spies, who had once placed their hopes in a new, better era, have to live with the truth of what bitter end they have achieved. It's also heavily implied that Lin Nansheng will not be allowed to survive long by the very system he sacrificed everything to help instate.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This is also a hard one. Most of my longer fics are angsty. I guess there's Da-ge's Midlife Crisis Boyfriend: a Mo Sanmei/Qiao Yicheng slice-of-life romcom where nothing particularly bad ever happens, and everyone ends up happy together in the end.

Do you get hate on fics? Oh yeah I used to, for sure. Cray-cray shit. But that was more of a fandom issue. I tend to leave fandoms that get toxic, and I'm happy to report that nowadays I no longer do. (niche retro sci fi fandoms my beloved <3)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Occasionally. Usually it's either humorous or some kind of character development. Smut is like fight scenes, there's a lot of movement going on, it's hard to keep track of who's doing what with which body part, so I tend to avoid it, but now and then I dabble. I've found that it's easier to write smut when one or both characters is not Human, for whatever reason.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? WeiLan Derivs babeyyy! Yeah, I've written a ton. The craziest one would probably have to be the little one-shot prompt collections I've written about two characters from different fandoms shipped together, but they're played by the same guy.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I've had concepts and plots stolen, bits of dialogue stolen, and way back in the day, someone re-uploaded my shitty InuYasha fanfic from ff.net to WattPad, but it's been deleted since.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah! A few different ones.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No. Sometimes I bounce ideas around with someone, or ask for help when I'm stuck. But I'd be curious to try it, if only it wasn't so involving - IRL is a bitch.

What's your all-time favorite ship? Just ONE?? You're kidding, right??? I'm currently obsessed with G'Kar/Londo Mollari from B5, but then there's also Garak/Bashir from DS9, and I can't ever forget Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan from MDZS, but also ENT's Shran/Archer have a special place in my heart---- [gets shot]

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Oh fuck dude... So many. There are so, so many.

What are your writing strengths? Beyond a shadow of a doubt, dialogue. I just like writing people talking. Everything else is so hard...

What are your writing weaknesses? Run-on sentences. Repeating stuff I already said, even in the same words. Scene blocking. Scene description: I tend to just offer up a paragraph of "where this is happening" and then completely forget where everyone is standing or sitting and what room they're in. I keep having to go back and add characters interacting with their environments between dialogue tags smh...

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? If it's a language you know? Go for it! If it's a language you don't know, ask someone who speaks the language whether the dialogue sounds insane. You have no idea how many times I stumble across someone having decided to slip in some Russian or Chinese into a character's speech, and it sounds ridiculous, and I have to immediately stop reading because of the cringe (even if it was a good fic up until then!)

First fandom you wrote for? I'm pretty sure it was InuYasha? Maybe Bleach or Naruto? I was 14 and a weeb, for sure tho.

Favorite fic you've written? That's another hard question! Most of the time, I'm pretty neutral on the stuff I've written, unless I actively despise it. For me it's about hearing the characters in my head as I write, rather than even the finished result. I think that's what I tend to mean when I say I'm writing for myself - I'm trying to recapture the feeling of watching or reading that media for the first time, by creating some extension of it in my head, and then bringing it out on "paper." That aside, I've been getting quite a lot of enjoyment out of my Babylon 5 ficlets lately.

'whoever wants to do it, please feel tagged' is a fantastic concept <3 I'll add in: @elemental-queen-writes @hingabee @polkadotcravat @spaceoperajay just for funsies, no pressure <3

[quill-pen]

SOOOOO GIRL, you inspired me with your amazing outfit recs to go perusing, and I had to start an inspo folder for Bess. These gave me SUCH Bess vibes and I had to share:

Ooh, these are all gorgeous! My turn!

1. I see Bess wearing this the first night she and Wolf are both invited out to Mr. Pippersnipe's dance club. That night in particular is in tribute to the Roaring 20s, so this dress would be right in line. Bess does like to match with the occasion when at all possible. So she's Also got her hair in some swanky 20s style and a cute feathered headband, gloves, and some appropriate jewelry she might have borrowed from Granny.

2. I actually see this as the dress Bess wears for the first New Year's party of FeFe's the girls all attend. She probably gets her first proposed date in that dress. The man isn't Wolf, of course, but he is nice and gentlemanly though and Bess makes a good friend, so it's not a wasted night. And, of course, Bess sets him up with someone else who's perfect for him.🤗

3. This is such a picnic dress. Whether the girls are having a picnic, or she's going with Wolf on one, or the whole Pack is meeting up for a spring or summertime picnic (which are always potluck picnics).

4. Ooh, this looks like a Moonrock dress, specifically the very short era right before Bryant comes back from whatever "trip" he'd been on and is given a position in the hotel and made Bess' boss. Sultry and classy, just like Bess Moonrock should be. And then she gets all sexed up.🙄 Thanks, Asshat.

5. Oh, I saw this one when I was browsing too! Heck, this is just an everyday fit! Baking, cooking, making rounds to check in on some more house-bound neighbors, playing Chinese checkers with Eddie, going shopping, just going to a walk to explore the city a bit more, this dress is up for it all. I can see this being a favorite of hers actually--one of her go-tos, because it's always cute and comfy and makes her feel pretty.

6. Oooh, girl, this dress might be the one Bess wears on that hot date night at Wolf's when he cooks for her and they end up half-naked slow dancing.😏. No wonder he can't keep his hands off her once they get started. That lave design is gorgeous.

[eiirisworkshop]

I am currently feebly shaking my Star Trek OCs, Bryn and Leryk in my mind like rag dolls, but the next fic they appear in is no where near finished—

(it's a sequel to the TOS 5-year-mission-era fic, Chiaroscuro, I introduced them in)

—so there's not much for me to do but mentally shake them like rag dolls.

But! I found, buried deep in my fanfic folders, the first thing I ever wrote of them! It's an old version of what is now their shared backstory (as referenced in Chiaroscuro and explored some in the OC-tober fills I did for Leryk a few years back). It's not quite 100% canon to them as they now exist, but I still think it's cool to see where they started (and to remember that I changed how I spell Leryk's name, and see my Trek lore errors from lack of research lol; I think this was written during class, I couldn't readily check Memory Alpha or Beta).

Anyway, I figured I'd share it.

Warning for parts of the story below the cut containing consent issues due to pon farr and characters not knowing what's going on with that.

-----

Baliel Alpha VI, 2251

A seven year old boy sat cross legged in the gravel of the main street, his back against the corner of a building cobbled together from bulkheads, his dark blond hair catching the sunlight as he built a small castle out of the powdered bluish stone that gathered at the edges of the road, stuck together with meltwater from the remnants of the last ice storm. A scuffle down the street at the shuttle port caused him to look up.

“Earth? Like hell! You're lucky I'm dumping you here instead of blasting you out into space, you stowaway rat!” a man, probably a cargo captain, yelled. He had another boy—older than the one sitting at the roadside—by one pointed ear, and was shaking him. The boy was grimacing but didn't cry out, he just stared up at his assailant with pale, clear eyes set under sharply angled brows. The man pushed the boy to the ground and stomped back into the port.

Carefully, with more grace and dignity than any Human would have expected of a child his age, the pale-eyed boy got to his feet, dusted off his thin, travel worn clothes, and crossed his arms against the cool air. He didn't move, just stood in the middle of the street, doing a pretty good job of not looking lost. None of the adults around paid him any mind, they were all used to out of place children showing up without warning. The other little boy, noticed though. He abandoned his half built castle to take a few steps toward the newcomer. “Hey!”

The dark haired boy looked around. One side of his short, black hair was sticking up in a way clearing indicative of having slept wedged between cargo crates.

“Hey,” the younger boy walked closer, “you just got here, huh?”

The older boy nodded.

“Yeah, I saw. I'm Bryn.” Bryn smiled.

A silent moment passed. “Leryc.”

“That your name?”

Leryc nodded again.

Bryn nodded too. “You look cold.”

“It is cold here.”

Bryn frowned then shrugged out of his own heavily patched jacket and held it out. “Don't think it'll fit you but put it around your shoulders?”

Leryc hesitated then carefully reached out to wrap long, thin fingers, angry green with cold, around the collar of the coat.

2257

Bryn fell face first into his hammock with a sigh. Curled up with an old, bound paper book in the mound of blankets that passed for his bed on the other side of the room, Leryc quirked an eyebrow at his shack-mate. “Still Eila?”

“She kissed me now she won't talk to me,” Bryn said into the thick fabric of his hammock. He sat up. “I don't understand.”

Leryc turned a page. “Well, I don't understand any of it so I doubt I can offer you any help.”

“You're like eighteen right?”

“In Terran years, yes.”

“So why is it that I have girl troubles and you don't?”

“I've not interest in girls.”

“Boys?”

“Nor in boys.”

“Whatever Rhi is?”

Leryc made a face of disgust. “Definitely not whatever Rhi is. The kid has a great personality but the slime sacks still make me a little sick.”

“Is there really nobody you like?”

“Bryn,” Leryc set his book on his knees, “if I'm like my mother's people, I've still got another two terran years before my sexual development catches up to where yours is now. Besides that, I don't see what concern it is of yours who if anyone I consider a potential mate.”

“We're friends and we live together. According to every single story I know of about roommates going back some four centuries, 'potential mates' is something we talk about.”

“You've only been a teenager for four months, you have plenty of time to talk about plenty of things.” Leryc blew a puff of breath at a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

2262

Bryn sprawled on the mat floor of his and Leryc's common room—it had once been their shared bedroom, but over the years they'd been able to add onto their one room shack enough for them each to have their own bedroom and a proper bathroom to share. He chewed absently at the rind of a local fruit. "Eila dumped Markel." "Oh?" Leryc didn't look up from the old terminal he was repairing. Bryn handed him a laser driver. "For the same reason I did last year: he's a self centered ass." "Glad you and Eila are in agreement." Leryc poked at the interior of the terminal and frowned, slanted brows contracting. "This thing is thoroughly fried." Bryn sat up and flicked Leryc's tiny tuft of a ponytail. "Not gonna be able to fix it?" "Oh no, I will fix it." "I believe you." "Old lady with the birds still trying to match you up with potential partners?" "Yes." Bryn sighed. "And she's running out of humanoids." "Shame." Bryn snorted but he didn't say anything. He just watched Leryc work. Graceful fingers combing through tangles of wiring, icy silver eyes narrowed in concentration. Deliberately, so Leryc could see what he meant to do and prevent it if he wanted, Bryn reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one of Leryc's elfin ears. Leryc allowed it. Bryn grinned. He knew Leryc's strict maintenance of his personal space generally didn't extend to him but confirmation still made him feel good. Leryc glanced at him. "What?" "Nothing." Leryc nodded and returned to his work. Bryn didn't know – he couldn't, Leryc had let him believe for years his Vulcan blood hadn't brought with it any of his mother's people's Disciplines – but that touch, so near his temple, sent a spark into the base of Leryc's brain. Not for the first time, he felt what Bryn felt for him: a wary admiration and affection beyond their friendship, different than anything Leryc had ever felt on his own. He didn't say anything. Acted like he didn't know. Certainly never let on that he knew Bryn knew that somehow he knew how he felt. The next morning, Bryn—always a later riser than Leryc—trudged out of his room to find, for one thing, the terminal fixed, for another, the bathroom door open showing Leryc clutching the edges of the sink while he vomited.

“Leryc?” Bryn hurried to his friend's side and carefully held back his hair. “Are you okay?”

Leryc retched again, shook his head, grabbed the towel off its hook, and wiped his mouth. “I don't know,” he said hoarsely.

“I've never seen you sick.”

“I know, I—” Leryc lowered himself to the floor and pressed a hand to his flank at the bottom of his right-hand ribs where his heart was beating as though he'd been running. He took a deep breath. “Maybe I ate something bad.”

“I ate everything you did.” Bryn crouched next to him, frowning.

“Could be bad for me and not for you.”

“I guess.” Gently, Bryn smoothed back the front of Leryc's hair. His skin was unusually warm, about as warm as Bryn himself. “I think you have a fever.”

“I should go back to bed.” Leryc pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah.” Bryn stepped out of the way. “Maybe—maybe try to meditate?”

Leryc glared at him. “I don't do that.”

“I know but maybe you should, just a little. It's partially a regulatory thing, right? And I know you were there long enough to be taught how.”

“Yeah.” Leryc scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe.”

Bryn watched his normally graceful friend trudge back to his room. When Bryn returned from the day's chores and errands that evening, the door to Leryc's room was still closed. When he tried to check on him, Leryc snapped at him to go away. The same thing happened the next morning. That night, having noticed that none of their food had been touched, Bryn put together a plate and carefully let himself into Leryc's room. “Hey,” he said softly, blinking to adjust to the dim, “don't think you've eaten in a couple days so I brought you something.”

Leryc uncurled from the ball he'd wound himself into on top of his blankets. He was shirtless, unusual for the perpetually cold desert creature living on a planet prone to spontaneous ice storms. Bryn took another step toward him. He lashed out, knocking the plate out of Bryn's hands and sending it flying across the room. He grabbed Bryn by the wrist and pulled him down, causing him to yelp. Suddenly on his back, Bryn gaped up at his friend. “What the—? Are you okay?”

Rather than answering, Leryc rubbed his face against Bryn's cheek then pressed his mouth to the pulsepoint under his jaw.

Bryn jerked away. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Leryc gripped his shoulders to keep him from moving, fingers like iron near painfully tight. He looked down at Bryn, breathing ragged, the silver of his eyes reduced to a slim ring around wide, black pupils. “I need this,” he said, voice hoarse.

“'This?' What is—” Bryn looked away from Leryc's face to how he was crouching over him, pinning him inescapably to the bedding. “Sex?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Leryc pressed his face to Bryn's throat again and inhaled deeply.

“What?”

“Now.”

“Now?!” Bryn heard his voice jump an octave as one of Leryc's hands released its hold on his shoulder and went instead to the closure of Bryn's trousers. “I—” Bryn took a breath that filled his lungs with sandalwood and copper “Okay,” he closed his eyes, “okay,” reached up and ran his hand along Leryc's side to where his heart beat against his ribs, “okay.”

~

Bryn woke naked, curled around what might have been a pillow or might have been a wadded up blanked, feeling vaguely like he'd been dropped from a height onto the rocky wasteland to the north of the colony. Slowly, he unbent his spine with an achy groan and peeked out from under the blanket that covered him. He could see Leryc wrapped in another blanket, sitting next to the trash can, head bowed behind crossed arms propped on tucked up knees. Bryn sat up, wincing as his did, and saw, as he wrapped his own blanket close around himself, that there were bruises gripped into his arm. He figured he had bruises elsewhere as well.

“Leryc?” he asked quietly.

Leryc flinched and curled tighter around his knees. “I'm sorry.”

Bryn frowned. He looked under his blanket. Bruises on his hips, a few lighter ones on his ribs, and he thought he could feel some on his shoulders. He was sore but nothing seemed too bad. “I think I'm okay.”

Leryc looked up. “That's not—” He looked away. “I'm sorry.”

The whites of his eyes were tinged green and there were deep circles beneath them. Bryn wondered if he'd slept. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Leryc's brow creased with confusion. He shook his head. He put a hand over his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I— Why are you asking if I'm—? I r—” He turned quickly to retch into the trash can but nothing came up. He finished in a ragged whisper, “I raped you....”

"What?! No!" Bryn instinctively lunged forward and immediately regretted the action. "Oh, owe.... No. No, no, no, no, no. That is not what happened." "Look at you!" "Rough sex does not equal rape!"  Bryn pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "Look I don't know what the fuck last night was about and I hurt in places I didn't know I had nerves and I'm kinda freaked out right now for several reasons but I told you okay, I said you could."  He sucked in a sharp breath. "I said it and I meant it." Leryc blinked several times, looked down at his hands, and shook his head. "I don't remember that." Bryn rubbed at his forehead between his eyes and sighed. "I told you okay." "I hurt you." "Yeah, that wasn't exactly the most pleasant fuck I've ever had and I'm seriously gonna want an explanation but I'll live." He grimaced. "Might need a chiropractor but I'll live." Bryn stretched uncomfortably. "Are you okay? Have you slept? When's the last time you ate? Were you high or something? 'Cause you seemed pretty damn strung out. I hope you weren't high, I really don't want to have been your first just because you were toasted. That was your first time wasn't it?" Leryc looked away and nodded once. "It was." "So for twenty four years you've done absolutely nothing then out of nowhere you just have to fuck me?" Bryn asked with far more bite than he'd expected. "Yes." "You bastard, you've got to know I have feelings for you!" "Yes, I know, I've known." Leryc fisted his hands in his hair. "I never said anything because I didn't return them." "Now all of a sudden you do?" "I honestly don't know, Bryn," Leryc snapped. "If you don't know then what was last night?" Leryc closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath. "Pon-fahr." "I don't know what that means Leryc.  I'm sure I've heard it but I've heard a lot of things and I don't know what any of them mean." "I don't know how to explain." "You better fucking try." Bryn swallowed past a lump forming in his throat. "I like you, a lot, you're my best friend and I think you're gorgeous. I am all kinds of okay with having sex with you, but I wasn't counting on the bruises and what I'm starting to think is a pulled muscle in my back and I'm not gonna just be okay with that for nothing." "Pon-fahr is, well, for one thing it's not something that gets talked about." Leryc sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's like heat I guess." "Heat? Like a cat in heat, heat?" "Yes. I don't know all that much, what I do know is the knowledge of a child about something he's not supposed to know exists yet." "Oh come on, you left when you were twelve." "Vulcan boys don't hit puberty until nearly twenty, things like this weren't of any immediate concern to me at twelve!" Leryc slammed his fist against the wall. He stopped and looked at his hand as though he'd never seen it before. His knuckles were grazed, a viridescent drop oozed from from the torn skin of one of them. He folded his other hand over it. "Starting in puberty, Vulcans—and apparently I—experience pon-fahr once every certain number of years. I forget exactly how many. Symptoms include aggression... I don't know exactly. Not vomiting though, I'm sure of that." "You've been puking for days." "I know. I don't know why that is." Leryc propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. "The thing about pon-fahr, first thing you know about when you start to learn what it is before ever bring told, is it's you mate or you die." He looked up. "Bryn, last night, I really wasn't myself, and I'm so sorry, but I had to. I don't remember you saying it was alright and I don't think it would've changed anything if you hadn't."

For a long, stunned moment, Bryn said nothing, then he laughed darkly, shook his head, and got stiffly to his feet. “I can't believe this. I'm going to go take painkillers and go back to sleep.” He made for the door but paused to put his hand on the top of Leryc's head. “Eat something.” He left the room.

Bryn spent most of the rest of the day in his hammock, reading, trying not to think—or feel his body's protests of the previous night's rough treatment. He only left occasionally to use the bathroom and once that evening to get himself dinner. He noticed with some relief that a package of fish sticks had absented itself from the freezer. By the next morning, he was less stiff and his bruises had started to fade so he pulled on a long sleeved, high collared shirt and set about his usual routine. He barely caught a glimpse of Leryc all day; when Bryn got back to the house in the evening from making his rounds, doing various odd jobs—fixing a heater, helping install a skylight—Leryc was in the common room. The moment Bryn opened the door, Leryc stood and made for his room without so much as trying to disguise his fleeing as anything other than what it was. Bryn was perfectly content to let him go. When the pattern continued the rest of the week, however, Bryn's attitude started the shift.

“Leryc.” Bryn had come out of the bathroom after showering to find his housemate rooting through the cupboards. He looked up quickly and made to bolt but Bryn, hair still dripping, stood between Leryc and the door to his room. “Leryc, you haven't spoken a word to me in ten days, can we talk?”

Leryc stared at a point on the wall, jaw set.

“We need to talk.”

“I'd like to point out that you're the who walked out.”

“Because you'd just told me you would have raped me if I hadn't consented, that's not an easy thing to take in stride.”

Leryc shut his eyes. “Could you please step aside?”

“Leryc!”

“I've asked you to step aside.”

Bryn bristled, then obeyed. “Is this it it now, then?” he asked as Leryc passed him. “We're gonna just live in the same house and not talk? Is that how you want things?”

Leryc stopped but didn't turn. “No, that is not how I want things.”

“Then let's talk!”

“Not now, Bryn.”

“Then when?”

“I don't know.”

“For fuck's sake, Leryc.” Bryn stomped over and took one of Leryc's hands in both his own and didn't let him flinch away. “The longer you hide more freaked out I get.” He hesitated a moment. “I love you and last week was not how I ever would have wanted to change our relationship from friends to something else so, I guess, I want to—” He let go of Leryc's hand with one of his own, ran his fingers along Leryc's jaw. “I want to try again. Get it right.” He leaned up to kiss him.

Leryc turned his head away. “Bryn,” he said carefully, “prior to ten days ago I was essentially a prepubescent child.”

“I know.” Bryn smoothed his hand against Leryc's cheek only for him to jerk away again.

“Have I mentioned the touch telepathy thing?”

Quickly Bryn clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, I'm sorry.... This is not going how I meant for it to.”

“I cannot deal with this, Bryn.”

“You're going to have to learn to.” Bryn shook his head and took a breath. “There's no going back to before last week, for either of us but especially you.”

Leryc closed his eyes. “You're my friend. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me.”

“I already did.”

Bryn made a sound of exasperation, grabbed Leryc by the jaw and kissed him firmly, warmly. Leryc stiffened. Bryn traced a finger along the shell of his ear then pulled away. “The rape thing freaked me out—”

“I know,” Leryc breathed.

“And the avoidance thing is starting to piss me off—”

“I know. When you touch my face I can sort of feel your thoughts.”

“I know.” Bryn nodded and traced the line of one of Leryc's brows making his breath catch. “So you know I love you, as a friend and also in a distinctly not prepubescent way.”

“I don't know what to do with that.”

“I do!” Bryn thumped his hands flat on Leryc's chest then curled his fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “I mostly know what I'm doing. Last week, that sucked in a lot of ways, I don't want that to be all I know of what we could be.”

Leryc nodded slowly. “So you want to try again.”

“So I want to try again.” Bryn smiled faintly. “Maybe have you remember it this time.”

[kcscribbler]

3, 5 and 29 for the writer asks, please!

Ooh, fun! Thank you, anon!

Full Ask List Here

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

However Improbable, my Star Trek TOS/ACD Sherlock Holmes crossover written for NaNoWriMo a loooooong time ago.

It was my very first TOS fic (why I chose to do a novel-length crossover as my initiation is anyone's guess), and to this day is still probably the most fun I've had writing anything. I'd like to think I balanced the characterization of both universes fairly well, but the reader is the judge.

Crossovers can be tricky, and they're not for everyone, but I had far too much fun with this one. I will always remember it fondly.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

At one point, I had a Star Trek TOS Alternate Universe series plotted out based on the OG Mission Impossible television show (from the same general time period as TOS, and as fabulous in its own way). The show actually featured Leonard Nimoy for two of the seasons, and it's generally delightful. Much more so than the big-budget films of the same franchise, in my humble opinion. 8/10, would recommend.

(Plot under the cut)

If I remember correctly, the AU started on the premise of Operation-Annihilate going badly wrong (an idea which later morphed into An Equitable Trade, FWIW), whereupon Jim Kirk was quietly discharged from Starfleet service in the ensuing scandal, and Spock basically said live long and fuck off with that and followed him. In this AU, the rest of the crew weren't originally aboard the Enterprise, and were picked up along the way through the ensuing ridiculous adventures across the galaxy, per typical MI format.

I actually had one 'episode' partially written a long time ago, before I got smart enough to back things up online, and lost it in a laptop crash. RIP my most ridiculous idea.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

This was cut last month from one of my Whumptober fics, as I decided to go a couple different directions with the TOS movie era instead.

“What on earth are you doing.”

Seated on the couch with at least a dozen takeout containers of various shapes and sizes stacked in perfectly neat, consistently spaced rows on the coffee table, Spock raises an eyebrow at him. “It was indeed, on Earth. During our recent sojourn in the Terran past, you informed Dr. Taylor that I found Italian food to be pleasing.”

“…Yes? Is that why you ordered what looks like the entire vegetarian menu from Angelo’s?”

“I must have a full data set in order to confirm a valid hypothesis.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t even bother to hide a smile. “But your face tells me it hasn’t been confirmed.”

“Correct.” Spock looks mildly uneasy about this discrepancy, though he indicates the barely-touched cartons with what looks like resignation. “I admit to feeling a slight sense of disillusionment, in the matter. It would seem that either you were in error, or that my taste for such things has changed during the process of my refusion.”

Jim’s too tired to do this standing up, right now, so he clambers over a hilariously untidy stack of of cartons on the rug (clearly overflow from the table) in order to collapse on the couch as well, exhaling in a long breath of relief at being able to get off his feet for a few minutes.

“I mean, it’s certainly possible your tastes have changed, Spock. But I think it’s more likely that you just haven’t got the right dishes.”

“How precisely is one to know which are ‘right’.”

Jim turns his head, still resting on the back of the couch, and gestures at the pile of cartons. “You like Italian, typically pasta; but you dislike strong garlic flavor. Since garlic is pretty ubiquitous in Italian food, when we order in or go out, we typically ask them to make yours without much of it.”

“Ah.”

“Angelo’s has a pumpkin ravioli this time of year that you refuse to admit is your favorite, because favorites are illogical.”

“I did not see this option on the menu.”

“That’s because since it’s seasonal, it’s not on the carryout menu,” he replies. “You’ve complained more than once about having to call and actually talk to someone to order it, instead of using the automated system.”

“I did not recall that detail with any clarity,” Spock admits, looking more downcast than before.

He reaches over to put a steadying hand on Spock’s arm. “You’ve recalled nearly every detail that is important; we can deal with the rest. That’s what I’m here for,” he says quietly.

“I have taken enough advantage of your patience in the matter.”

“Incorrect. You’ve never taken advantage of me or anyone else, that I can recall. I’m not sure it’s even in your nature.”

“That appears to be a highly subjective assessment fueled by an emotional viewpoint.”

“Well, I am an emotional human. So that viewpoint is logical for me.” Seeing Spock’s clearly baffled expression, he hastens to add, “But from the Vulcan viewpoint: I do have all my memories, so I think my opinion should be trusted more than yours in the matter.”

Spock considers this for a moment, and then nods. “That is eminently logical.”