#tos living memory

[triumviiirate]

Star Trek: Living Memory by Christopher L. Bennett

[medlilove]

NOMAD took everything from her. And they never talk about it!

Until Living Memory which was written 50 years later!

Please click for full res and read Living Memory

[butterflyinthewell]

Spock’s famous Vulcan salute has a very Jewish origin. 😇

This came up in my recommended videos on YouTube. I’ve known about this for decades, but wanted to share in case some new Trekkers didn’t. 🖖🏻

[andromedasummer]

cos sky movies is free rn for the school holidays and this weekend is a long weekend for Matariki my dad downloaded all the star trek (2009-2015) movies and we've been going through them night by night together (yesterday was number one, we just finished into darkness, beyond is tomorrow night) so. expect more star trek posting.

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[avoidthings]

kitchen’s closed | t. richmond

About: Terry catches you in the kitchen late at night and has his own idea of a midnight snack. [word count: 2.1k] Warnings: Explicit language. 18+ Readers Only. Oral (female receiving), Unprotected PIV (wrap your willy, pls). I had concepts of a plot. 

It was well past midnight in North Carolina, and you could hear the crickets and other critters abuzz outside of your bedroom window. You stared at the sliver of moonlight cast between your curtains, realizing the clutches of insomnia had sunk its sneaky fingers in you yet again. 

Your boyfriend, Terry, rarely stirred in his sleep, and kept a hefty arm draped over your waist every night. Being that he was ex-military, it was sort of ironic how heavy of a sleeper he was. Some evenings you tried to count the rise and fall of his chest instead of sheep, but rather than lulling you to bed it just disgruntled you. You wanted to poke the bear awake and damn him for leaving you so smitten. 

The room was quiet aside from the bustle of the outdoors, and you thanked God your man didn’t snore or else this would feel like a torture chamber. You flipped through the rolodex of your thoughts and landed on recapping your day; you went to work, Terry picked you up and made a stop at Kroger, then you two watched some sitcom reruns for a bit. House rules were to grab takeout after grocery shopping so neither of you had to bother with cooking something. 

All that thinking of food must’ve sent a reminder to your stomach. You exhaled as it grumbled. While very cute, you would rather not see Terry’s grumpy face should he discover his miso soup missing. You perked up at the memory of slipping a pint of ice cream in the shopping cart earlier. 

It was counterproductive, solving sleeplessness with sugar, but you hoped Ben & Jerry’s would be your saving grace tonight. You peered over your shoulder to find your boyfriend as sound as ever, eyes fluttered closed like a saint. 

After a silent prayer, you wriggled from his hold and toed out of bed. You pattered around the twilight of the room, starting your mission to the fridge. Past the master bathroom, the thermostat, (which nearly broke the two of you up), and to the far right of your living space was your destination. Thankfully, the range hood light was on so you weren’t too sore of eyesight. 

You opened the freezer and plucked out your reward. After grabbing a spoon, you settled in, sitting on top of the counter. The granite was cold against your bare thighs, your body only blanketed by a worn t-shirt that hung off your shoulders. 

That first mouthful was instant gratification and you nearly rolled your eyes back in delight. 

“Baby, what are you doing up this late?” You were startled by Terry’s voice, the tone more gruff from the interruption of his slumber. 

You were caught red-handed, spoon in mouth, so you shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanted something sweet.” 

He hummed. Terry made his way closer, no longer a distorted shadow in your peripheral vision. He had come to bed in only his sweatpants and socks. 

Terry had a glow about him, even in the dim of your surroundings. He slipped comfortably in your personal space, stepping right between your legs. You relished in the warmth. 

You had to look up even with the extra height the counter gave you.

“Sorry to wake you. I know you have to go for your run in the morning,” you said. 

Terry gave you a lazy smile and shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. Everythin’ okay?” You nod wordlessly. 

“Hey!” You protested when he nabbed the pint from you, his hands quicker than your reflex to reach for it back. It was a battle you would more than likely lose anyway. 

He successfully hushed you by taking a scoop from the container to raise to your lips. 

“Open.” 

You held his gaze as you took what was given, inciting a groan that rumbled low in his chest. 

Terry obliged you once more and made notice of your tongue swiping to the corner of your mouth to catch what you missed. His own hunger dwelled in his underbelly. Between your job returning to the office and his growing trucking business, you haven’t made much time for intimacy as of late. 

“I think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet too.” The spoon and tub clattered by your side and he disappeared from your view. 

“Terry--” 

“Open,” he demanded once more, kneeling toward your feet, causing fire to crawl up the back of your neck. He did not take kindly to being ignored, and you wanted this to be an easy night, so you let your legs spread apart. 

He tossed one behind his shoulder, mumbling something inaudible to you. A kiss to your ankle, the inside of your knee, then your thigh. 

A yelp pierced the air when Terry’s large hands claimed the curve of your hips, tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. Your clammy palms braced themselves on the flat surface beneath you. You could feel his smirk and goatee rubbing on your exposed skin. 

Your breath quickened with the anticipation of what was next. His mouth ghosted over your center, blowing on your clit through your dampening panties. 

“Oh, fuck,” you shuddered. 

He was a merciless man, dropping open-mouthed kisses to your clothed center. He retreated as you tried to furl into his touch, reaching underneath your shirt to roll your nipple for more stimulation.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Terry inhaled your scent without shame. Finally, the cotton of your undies was torn from your pelvis to who-knows-where. You felt the coolness of the air over your exposed skin for a brief moment, the absence of touch not lasting long. 

You jerked, feeling his tongue swipe a slow strip up from your wet entrance, gathering your slick. He lewdly spat it back over your clit and sucked until you cried out. Terry ate you without abandon, with little regard for any manners, overtaken by his own greed. --

“I missed how you taste, baby.” Voice muffled in between your legs, his eyes flitted up at you, earnest as always. Terry’s grip maintained the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread so he could continue to steal all breath and sense from you. 

“Oh my God,” you moaned. Your brain and your body sounded an alarm, reeling with the increasing need for release. His name fell like a chant from your mouth. 

Two fingers pushing into you caused the band to snap, Terry immediately seeking the button that left you gushing. He was unaffected when your heel dug deep at his shoulder, urging his face further in your pussy as if it was possible. His fingertips sped in pace, turning your mewls into high-pitched squeals. 

Soon enough, your back bowed with the intensity of your orgasm. He tightened his hold, keeping you steady as the current flowed through you. “That’s my girl,” he kissed and licked you through it. Pleasure never reached a precipice when you were under his care, and you shouted to the heavens.

When your legs eventually deflated, your hands found his ears, rubbing behind them gingerly. A grunt slipped from his mouth.

Terry staggered to his feet, hooded eyes glazed over your heaving body. His teeth nipped between your breasts over your shirt, up to your collarbone and your neck. You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in to feel his erection prod at your inner thigh. 

Instinctively, he rutted up against you and you sighed. You were warm all over, sheeted with sweat and clenching around nothing, wanting only to be full of him. 

His lips left your jawline and found your mouth, luring you into a mind-numbing kiss. You cradled Terry’s face in your hands and took control, allowing your tongue to slot against his. It felt all the more indulgent, the lingering taste of chocolate on your lips mixed with your own arousal. 

He was still rubbing on your leg and it only intensified your need for connection. Like a minx, you curled into him, purring in his ear. “Terry, I need you. Please.” 

Your hands lowered to explore the solid planes of his body, all of its beautiful ridges and scars. He leant down so his forehead was touching yours. “Fuck, I need you too, baby. Been losing my damn mind about you,” he breathed.

Terry yanked at the waistband on his joggers and his dick sprung free. You two didn’t usually forgo protection but your cycle was around the corner, and desperation made your judgment very foggy. 

His fingers splayed under your shirt to grasp at your plush waist, thumbing the folds of your belly from where you sat. Terry pushed his way inside, coating himself to about half of his length. You sighed into his hold, legs locked at his torso, trying, and failing to meet him in the middle. 

Without much effort, he stilled your movements. Terry pulled out slowly, and slapped himself over your clit twice, leaving you to squirm pitifully. “Stop teasing and just fuck me, already,” you whined.

Terry did as told and burrowed into you in one, deep thrust. You ate your words in a choked gasp. His head cocked back as he felt your walls squeezing him, putting the cords of his neck on full display. 

Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tried desperately to hold on to the thread of resolve you had left. Terry trampled on it when he set a brutal pace, drilling in you like you owed him something. Your ears were ringing with your own moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. It all felt like too much, far too soon. 

You pressed a hand to his chest feebly and whimpered. Promptly, he grabbed your trembling forearm and kissed the inside of your wrist. “I’m fucking you like you wanted, huh? Why you tryna run from me?”

“It’s t-too, m-much,” your words were slurring and you frowned through the pleasure, hoping he’d give you relief from his punishing strokes. That all too familiar storm brewed in your belly again and you couldn’t stifle any noise that left your lips. Each thrust brushed against that sensitive spot within you, and you try your might to stave off your climax. 

His stare was focused on you, utterly enamored by your carnal state. “Terry!” You wailed, slapping the countertop behind you and shifting to scoot away. The crack of his hand on the side of your ass rang loud and welled your eyes with fresh, salty tears. Terry landed a sweltering kiss on your lips to pacify you. 

He gripped you by the coils at the nape of your neck, and you blinked at him, huffing out shattered breaths. You wanted to ask him why he was fucking you like this, and what did you ever do to deserve it. But your brain could only compute expletives. You clenched and unclenched around him greedily, and his teeth clashed at the sensation.

“Stop holding back, I can feel it. Let that shit go.” And under his spell, you did, surmounting to a shaking ball in his arms. Your toes curled at his sides and his rhythm didn’t falter, his own release not far behind. You keeled with overstimulation, the air feeling sticky on your skin.

Terry’s hands abandoned your waist to cup your ass, bouncing you on his dick in hardy, final thrusts. You bite down his shoulder so you don’t scream loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. His head is buried in the crook of your neck now, sweat dripping on your collar. 

“‘Gonna make me cum all in this tight pussy, fuckk,” he groaned, ropes of his release starting to spurt inside of you. Your body was taut around him as his hips slowed to a halt. You were filled to the brim.

“My pretty baby did so good. So perfect for me,” Terry was panting like he just finished a mile-run, and still chose to sing your praises. He softened and pulled out, a part of you now missing. You sat there for a beat to catch your breaths, limbs still tangled together.

“Mm..’can’t stop shaking,” you whispered.

His actions had left you exhausted, drowsiness coated in every blink of your eyes. Terry separated from you for a second and he had his pants back on, scooping you up in his arms. You latched onto him like a bear, nuzzling into his chest.

If it was up to you, you’d pass out right there and crawl to bed in the morning. Something squished against his foot on his trudge out of the kitchen. 

“Shit, my socks are wet…what is that?” 

Ice cream.

--

Author’s Note: Just wanted to drop my contribution to the Terry Richmond industrial complex.

P.S. This was supposed to be Trainer!Terry but my hormone monster won. 

As always if you made it to the end, thank you bunches!

[lichqueenlibrarian]

Spock as Ishmael struck me as a little more at peace with himself than Spock with his memories back- as Ishmael he was still logical, but allowed a little more leniency with understanding the emotions of others. He’s SO UPSET when he comes back to himself and realizes all the romcom shenanigans he’s been helping with. Playing pool with Cyprians, playing chess for money??? LONG HAIR!?

Honestly his first clue that everyone was going to like him regardless should’ve been how easily they accepted “I don’t feel love or desire for women” and didn’t ask any other questions.

I agree about your point with Kirk and McCoy, especially as McCoy calls him a big fake, and then nearly dies of shock when he sees how friendly Spock is with Sarah and Biddy. It’s Aaron’s assessment of Kirk I like where he can see immediately that he understands Spock on a deep level.

I found Spock’s treatment in Ishmael really interesting- when he loses his memories, he’s obviously unaware that he is half human, believes himself to be fully alien but knows nothing more than that. When asked he is not sure that he has ever had a home, but when he recognizes San Francisco it’s very nearly emotional. All the people around him accept that he’s different than they are, and yet he worries that if he married and had a child, that child would belong nowhere. There’s really been no situation where he has been made to feel othered, after an initial attempt to convince him to marry, everyone leaves him alone on the subject.

Spock makes an argument on behalf of the women in the town who were brought there as a result of a wager, knowing that he understands their feelings and only experiences some slight shame about it, alongside a vague impression he ought to be more upset, and finds that reaction confusing. When he regains his memories he starts thinking about how he got involved in the humans’ gross and stupid issues and how appalling that is.

I think the contrast Barbara Hambly depicted is so fascinating- on one hand you have how Spock understands himself and the world, and on the other how the people around him understand him.

Bringing Jim and McCoy into it, Jim accepts Spock as he is and where he is, while I think McCoy gets upset with the knots Spock ties himself into.

[bodyswapmischief]

The Body Swap Couple: Car Troubles

"Hey, cut it out!" Travis tried to shoo away Henry as he worked on the car.

"Babeeeee, whyyyy, you looks soooo hot and muscular. And, I look so hot and muscular. You know .... I also love hairy bodies. It's so not fair!" Henry groans his flamboyant tone and mannerisms, looking a bit silly in his new over masculine body.

"Baby, no! We need to focus. We only jumped into these bodies so we could fix the car and use their knowledge to do so. We are already using their tools and garage ... we can't have fun in their bodies ... it's only business." Travis groaned as he lifted the car with the automatic lift.

"But, babeeee, I wanna play with the only tool ... I care about." Henry said as he was about to grab Travis, new body's junk. Travis swatted him out of the way.

"No, Henry! Remember anything we do in their bodies ... they will think they did, themselves. Look at these guys' memories ... they have families. We can't just turn them both gay and destroy their lives and marriages." Travis began to look at what he'd need to fix the car. "Just stand by the toolbox and hand me what I need. You should know the name of the tools because of the memories of these bodies."

"Ugh, fine, Trav, but we need to find some bodies to fuck in sooooon. It's been a few days since we fucked in new bodies! And, I'm so horny for a new expirence." Herny began to look through the toolbox.

"Okay, I need a hammer. To knock this part off, " Travis said.

"I'd love to get hammered by you." Herny giggled as he passed the tool.

"Herny!" Travis rolled his eyes. He knew their words wouldn't affect the bodies ... only their behaviors would. But, still, he thought Henry needed to get his mind out of the gutter. "Okay, now I need a wrench." Travis continued as he raised his arms to get to the part he needed to take off.

Henry took that moment to wrap his arms around Travis. He tip toed to reach Travis' armpit and licked, followed by sniff, then a kiss, and a slight suck. Travis moaned in response.

"Oops ... is this gonna affect them." Henry smirked. "My guy ... gets a new taste for your guys body. And, your guy moans in response. Seem tainted to meee!" Henry chuckled.

Travis groaned as he put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fuck! And, yes! This taints them. Now they are gonna fucking do this all the time. And, be confused about it and ashamed. The only way to help them now ... is to fuck ... so they think they confessed thier love to each other. Instead of being closeted and shameful." Travis sighed as he took of his pants to get ready to fuck.

"Yay!" Henry cheered.

[lostyesterday]

Star Trek science officers venn diagram!

Some notes: I know Data and Seven aren’t technically science officers, but they are in my heart, and also just functionally speaking in their respective shows. Also, you could argue that Seven is technically fully human rather than part-human, but to me a part of her remains Borg.

For the “important relationships with others cause them to question some of the most essential beliefs of their culture” segment, I’m mostly talking about Rejoined for Jadzia and Spock’s arc in the TOS movies with Kirk.

For the “doesn’t feel any emotions about that (blatantly untrue)” segment, I don’t actually think Data’s lying about not experiencing emotions, I just think he has difficulty recognizing his own emotions as being emotions. Seven and Spock are mostly just lying though, with a bit of denial mixed in.

For the “contains the memories of other people” segment, I was mostly thinking of Lal for Data, but there are several other possible reasons this would make sense for him, like how he has all the records from the people living on the planet where he was created.

[travellingtribble]

I'm in my feels thinking about how fucked up the TOS crew ended like

Kirk got stuck in the nexus from ~2293 to 2371 only to die again, for good, as soon as he got out? Come on. come on man.

Bones got old. like really old. and didn't get to see Kirk again??? It's been a while since I watched the TNG episode with McCoy, I don't remember what he says, but he was like 150 years old. Did he ever even see Kirk before he got stuck in the Nexus. Did he ever see Spock? (I'd hope so, Spock disappears years later, in Picard if I'm correct?)

Spock was... around doing Spock stuff. And then Kirk died and did Spock even know? did someone tell Spock that his literal soulmate died. twice. and then Spock got stuck in another universe, a reality slightly different from his own, where everyone is younger than him and Jim is not really Jim and he has his own Spock anyway and his planet is gone and he lived the rest of his days in the Kelvin timeline, alone.

And Scotty got stuck in a transporter buffer for 75 years. That's so long. They had to tell him Kirk was gone? (although, they were together when that happened, weren't they? they were on the Enterprise-B, technically Scotty knew that Kirk was "dead" didn't he? I guess spending 75 years stuck in a buffer mode will screw up your memory though.) Did he see Spock again? Did he see Bones again before either of them died?

Basically the only ones we didn't see explicitly (or implicitly) die or disappear of the OG crew are Uhura, Chekov and Sulu. Where were they? what were they doing? did they know about Kirk? about Scotty? about Spock?

Sorry but like. that is so fucked up. why does nobody talk about this!!!

[triumviiirate]

Star Trek: Living Memory by Christopher L. Bennett

[medlilove]

So I actually listened to the audiobook version of living memory before I watched the nomad episode. I thought the book was amazing, really touching. Really goes into the pain Uhura must have gone through when she forgot everything. But the episode.... I really thought it would focus on her at least a little bit more. They barely touched on what she went through! I guess that's the 1960s for you, but damn, is she ok?

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Hugs That Heal

Today had been shit. There was no other way to say it. You got yelled at by no less than three customers for issues that weren’t actually issues, your childhood dog had died, and your friends had to cancel on coming by the shop before close. And your fucking period started today meaning that even though you kept it together all you wanted to do was weep.

You had only been living with Simon for a few months. He wasn't home much and often on a near unpredictable basis. Hoping against hope that he wouldn't be home today you slid your key home. When the door opened, the key still in the lock, you knew hope would not save you.

He still wore his mask and had hard eyes. Fuck. This was Ghost, the mismatched name for a man who wears a skull mask to keep his identity hidden.

Staring at you he didn't move.

"Move or I will find out if you are afraid of tears." They are already brimming at your lash line.

Ghost stepped back. You still had to wedge yourself between the wall and his stiff body. The contact with a body that held no softeness for you was too much. Tears slid down your cheeks as you toed off your shoes and moved on socked feet to the bathroom. Done there, toilet used and teeth cleaned, you moved to your room. Changing turned out to be difficult as your tears worsened and the shaking started.

Barely holding it together you find the kitchen by memory alone. The large shape you can see when your vision isn't filled with tears confirms your roommate is still awake.

"Ghost?"

No reply. Your crying turns to sobbing.

"Can I have a hug?"

Eight sobbing breaths pass before the air shifts in front of you. Reaching out blind you bury yourself into his chest, unleashing the full force of everything that had been bottled up today. His arms drift around you, holding more onto himself than you. That's fine. You don't need much tonight, only to know you are not alone.

Chest hollow you step back, sleeves scraping at both eyes.

"Sorry about that Ghost." Glancing up you see the presence of a soul again. Simon must be back. "Simon. I apologize about that. I am going to go be mortified in my bed now. G'night."

Turning on your heel you march to your bed, hurling yourself between the sheets as self flaggliation becomes your favorite refraine.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I personally have very conflicted feelings about wether or not I like Leona as well but for entirely stupid reasons

He appeals to me as a character and I quite enjoy him within the story, but I have an irrational amount of anger and disgust towards bare feet

This has been the case since childhood though I have since gotten a fair bit chiller

Once again I really like his character, he's probably my second to first favourite, but I cannot bear to look at him sometimes

When I see full body Leona art sometimes I stop scrolling right before the bottom and then go past it really fast to avoid seeing feet, one time I had to stop reading an analysis for a hot minute because reading about his overblot made me think of that fucking foot design and in that moment that was just unbearable

It's the reason I can't really get into most of the fairy gala designs either, it's literally so stupid

He's really fucking testing me

NO, YOU’RE RIGHT AND I STAND WITH YOU… Never been a fan of his footwear or bare feet/skin of the feet in general (which is also why I dislike Floyd’s Relax in Room Groovy or Jade’s Dorm Groovy) 😭 The is particularly horrific for Labwear Leona, because you’re not supposed to have open-toed shoes in a lab environment. AHHHHHHHHHH, it makes me wanna bash him over the head with a pair of sensible shoes 💢

I think a lot of my disgust toward bare feet stems from a traumatic foot-related childhood memory :DD It happened to a relative and not to me, but it was still pretty horrific watching them go through it (I won’t go into detail; just know that it was very gross).

Thankfully we don’t really see the shoes or full body models in the game so most of the time I can live in blissful ignorance 🙂‍↕️ Shoes are the one design element of Twst that I consistently find disappointing… SORRY, FLOYD…

I really like the Fairy Gala designs overall though! I didn’t mention this in my personal L*ona lore post, but his Fairy Gala Couture outfit was what first sold me on the whole “he’s canonically handsome” thing OTL The dainty, flowery aesthetic is more of my preferred style to his usual “bad boy” look, and I think the cream clothes + shimmery makeup on him helps call attention at his face.

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Stay at home Dad | Wooyoung

Summary: wooyoung attempts at being a stay at home Dad and you come home to him and the kids asleep

Notes: woo with kids is my biggest weakness omg

Warnings: none

When you came home that evening it was eerily quiet. The lights were turned on in every room and the amount of items sprawled out everywhere was enough to fill a swimming pool. The kitchen was a mess full of baby bottle pieces and what was most likely your husband's half-eaten meal. You were surprised to say the least, searching the house for the culprit.

You hadn't expected to see your bedroom as the only dark area. Pushing open the cracked door, you entered the room, the only light being the ongoing video that played from your husband's phone. He laid beside it on the bed, eyes closed as he snored softly.

You inched forward, peering around the side of the crib that was next to the bed. The bassinet was empty aside from its normal sheets. Glancing up, you finally spotted the small form resting peacefully on your husband's chest. Both the baby and him continued to sleep peacefully as you cooed in adoration.

"My goodness," you laughed quietly, finding yourself in awe at the image. Despite the reminder that even the bedroom was in disarray, you found yourself fawning over the cute picture before you. You stepped forward carefully, avoiding the items on the floor, wanting to see the image up close.

Like father like son.

Wooyoung's hand was gently over top of your son's back, holding him in place on his own chest. The two looked identical with their mouths wide open as they slept away. They even had matching moles on their bottom lips that stuck out under the phone light.

A sudden movement on the other side of the bed caught your attention. You peeked over Wooyoung to find another body sleeping peacefully. The shape of your toddler underneath the blanket could now faintly be seen. You held back a giggle as you noticed her foot placed right up against the side of her father's face. It took all the power in you not to take a picture, afraid the flash of a camera would wake them. There wasn't enough lighting to be able to see every detail either, so you settled at quietly escaping the room.

You began to work in the kitchen, finding the mess to be a bit easier. The food had gone bad for sitting out too long and the bottles just needed to be tossed in the electric cleaner, a courtesy gift from your mother-in-law, and you'd be practically finished with one room already. Just as you had completed that task, ready to move onto the living room, you were greeted by a sleepy figure.

"Welcome home," Woo yawned out, smiling sleepily at you.

You smiled back. "You're up?"

"Yeah, a certain smell woke me." He scrunched his nose up at the memory of your daughter's foot in his face. "I put the baby back in the crib."

You shuffled through a few toys, tossing them into their separate bins, Wooyoung also sitting on the rug and helping. "I'm surprised you managed to get him to sleep, he's been very colicky."

He nodded softly, still a bit tired. "I rubbed at his belly for awhile and it seemed to help."

The two of you sat in silence after, organizing a handful of things and leaving some for the morning. It was late, you both were tired, and it wasn't going to be long before one of your two children would wake. In order to get a nice warm shower, you needed to be quick.

After some time you managed to clean most of the house into decent shape again. Wooyoung was apologizing profusely, mentioning several times how he wanted it to be clean when you got home. But the story of how your toddler was adamant that the house wasn't clean spoke for itself. He finally accepted fate and let her tire herself out, leaving the house in disarray.

You gathered some items to change into while Woo moved your daughter into her own room. Thankfully, she stayed asleep as you both tip-toed about. He allowed you an escape as you rushed to take that relaxing shower you dreamt about all day.

"Come here," Wooyoung called out to you when you left the bathroom all fresh and changed. He sat on your shared bed, arms out expectantly as his lips formed a sweet pout. "I've been craving your cuddles."

Your heart melted once more for him, caving in quickly as you jumped into his grasp. You snuggled close, head dipping down into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. "Me too, " you mumbled quietly. "I've been dying to hold you."

He hummed a soft tune, hands grazing down the back of your head. The tender movements started to feel familiar as the gentle strokes to your hair turned into pats on your back. You felt his body relax against the mattress, the song becoming quieter and quieter every second.

"I feel like our son," you murmured, trying not to laugh as your husband's pats became faint. "You're singing me to sleep."

Your words were spoken into the dark bedroom but with no response. Wooyoung had already fallen fast asleep again, the exhaust from the day draining all his energy. You were glad there was at least a bit of his affection saved for you before the night ended. Finally, you drifted off in your own peacefully sleeping state, heart swelling with happiness.