filtrodeaguaparagrifo

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

wanted to try my hand at a fake screenshot thing with a scene from one of the bttf fics of all time, Time Is a Flat Circle by @fourth-dimensional-thinker! i set in to draw only the "little canary" line but. as you can tell. my hand slipped and fell down a 6 story building

if you haven't read it already please check it out PLEASEEE it's very good. i read the whole thing in basically one sitting. the vibes are perfect for the spooky season too!

versions without the filter/subtitles under the cut:

[myshipmyway]

A Quality of Regret

[ What started as an attempt at a Twitter "solo" turned into me going "y'know, I have a Tumblr, I should use it."

I'm running a Rear Admiral Christopher Pike account on Twitter now, and he just proves that I'm weak for sad old men. Alas, alack, etc. Anyway, this is Chris briefly pondering the events of 2266 from A Quality of Mercy and a very quick look at the version I'm writing. He has a husband and a wife now because I said so. ]

———

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩."

It was the sensation of Aurelia's arms around him that nudged Admiral Pike out of his reverie. He glanced from the glass of brandy in his hand to the woman whose face was suddenly next to his, with her body pressed against the back of his chair. As Chris set the glass down he turned to sweep her into his lap.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" He asked, avoiding the subject that he knew was on her mind. She leaned forward from her new perch and plucked the PADD from his desk.

"You couldn't have predicted how everything was going to go. No matter how many times you go over the logs, it's not going to change a thing."

Deep down, Christopher Pike knew she was right—he couldn't have predicted any of what happened during that fateful Romulan encounter in 2266, and he couldn't help feeling responsible for everything: Spock, her, the entire goddamn war.

"I was told multiple times to just…"

Despite himself, he engaged finger-guns and mimed taking a shot. Pew.

"I didn't. Maybe if I had—"

Aurelia leaned into him, rested her head against the crook of his neck.

"Maybe if we had, the Romulans would have noticed one of their ships missing… and the war would have happened anyway."

The feeling in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. Chris slipped one arm around the younger woman and held her tightly while he gazed off into space.

"We're Starfleet, Chris. We do what's right… and sometimes it backfires. We knew the risks when we joined. It isn't…"

Aurelia trailed off. The Admiral glanced sidelong at her. He felt her burying her face against his neck and he murmured, "Let's… get you to bed. You shouldn't have been on your feet, it's been a long day."

Chris would never understand how she could forgive him so easily. His decision to show mercy cost them so much: not only did it leave Spock a shattered man in a figurative and literal sense, it took their husband Gabriel away and put him on the front lines. It robbed Aurelia of her health. It killed billions.

Even though she forgave him, he would never forgive himself.

He was sure the dead wouldn't, either.