#written by christine

[starry-bi-sky]

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them. 

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous. 

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game. 

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says. 

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.  

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts. 

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger. 

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest. 

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head. 

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.” 

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to. 

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.” 

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown. 

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight. 

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!” 

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!” 

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates. 

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.” 

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

[cozyforjate]

It surprises me when people say Chapel doesn’t have a trait, personality, or plotline other than being Spock’s love interest... Let me list all the things we know and have seen about this amazing character.

Christine Chapel is a nurse on The Enterprise. She is on civilian exchange from the Stanford Morehouse Epigenetic Project. She is also a part of Starfleet’s initiative to better observe alien cultures without contamination.

M’Benga treats her as an equal. Pike called her “doctor” in the very first episode which suggests that her medical knowledge and experience must be impressive.

She is an expert on genetic modification. She can mess with your genome and temporarily turn you into an Alien. And she makes it look easy.

She is also interested in archeological medicine. She is doing fieldwork, making discoveries, and writing papers on the subject while doing her other duties on the ship.

Long story short she is quite the genius!

She is outgoing, friendly, witty, funny, adventurous, strong, brave but also compassionate and emotional.

She doesn’t judge, she accepts people for who they are.

She is confident in her abilities. She doesn’t take anyone’s BS. “I don’t think the Vulcan Fellowship is ready for me”… No one, not even Vulcans can bully or make her feel insecure.

But when she was a kid she was bullied. Milo, her Malamute, bit one of those bullies. Good boy!

As it was implied in one of the episodes she is most probably bi.

She has a vulnerable side. She is afraid of commitment. Afraid of romantic relationships getting deep. Perhaps even afraid of falling in love. She uses humor when things get too serious or personal for her. There is a story waiting to unfold in time. And i can’t wait to know more of it!

She was in the Klingon War with M'Benga. They witnessed the ugly face of war and had to make some hard decisions. They used (perhaps even developed) an illegal serum that temporarily gives them enough power and stamina to survive against Klingons. This left a scar on her as much as it did on M'Benga. We will revisit this story in episode 8 (i guess).

She knows how to fight. She is a quick thinker during stressful situations. And she is a badass. For example, she can handle space pirates and all she needs is a hypospray! She can deal with baby Gorns and survive!

She is heroic. She would jump into space without an EV suit to prevent a war.

Oh and she is also Spock's love interest and it's a delicious relationship that enrichens both characters.

This is what we got in 15 episodes. I'm sure we'll learn more about her and she will get new storylines in the seasons to come.

[notbecauseofvictories]

inexplicably sad about the loathly lady. I just can't imagine being brave enough to ask anyone whether they would prefer you be attractive in the sight of their friends, or attractive when they fuck you. that those are the only two options. I can't stop thinking about how there are many other answers to that question, and almost all of them are wrong.

[seaoflove07]

Cravings in the Dawn🌹

• A commission artwork by Lesyarei •

Oc x Canon.

Characters: Azusa Mukami & Christine Melendez. (Rose)

A commission Fan Fiction Written by @afi-writes @afi-mukami

Author Oc @yuriko-mukami

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers.

🔞⚠️⚠️ NSFW, Not for Minors! ⚠️⚠️🔞

Note: I can't bring myself to write my own smut. 😅 So I'm glad there are writers who do steamy commissions.

I did give the dialogue to the writer and the rest she poured her magic with her style.📝 🔥🔪🌹

The pinkish hue spreads through the sky just above the high trees, the first cue of the morning. Christine has been watching the dark sky for a while now, tossing and turning every now and then. Now light dangles into the room, caressing the rosy curtains and bedsheets with its sparkles. No way Christine can fall asleep this morning, not when every nerve in her body tickles. There is this deep yearning rising in her, pulsing through her veins, demanding attention.

The arms locked around Christine aren’t truly helping the situation. Especially not when Azusa nuzzles her locks in his slumber, his scent of fruity black tea with a hint of flowers sailing in as Christine draws breath.

Five days.

For five days without making love to the man who lays next to her. A sigh presses past Christine’s lips. Five days full of work for Karlheinz’s plans. Five days full of chores in the mansion. Five days hitting the bed in the brick of dawn and passing out from exhaustion.

Yet now, Christine is wide awake, feeling how neediness courses through her body. Such a wrong timing.

Azusa lets out a soft mumble while Christine’s gaze embraces him. He has worked so hard, deserving every ounce of rest he can get. Not wanting to disturb him, Christine sneaks from under his arms gradually. Another mumble, an arm tugging a pillow, hugging it instead. An adorable sight.

But adorable isn’t what Christine would need now. Not even the long bath earlier has shaken the throbbing need away. Slightly annoyed by her urges, Christine grabs a silk robe from the backrest of a chair and wraps it around her. Even though the fabric is light, its touch on her skin is enough to send shivers all over. Oh, she would need so much more. Drawing a breath, she pushes the longing aside and heads for the kitchen. Perhaps a glass of water can cool her down.

But this isn’t a lucky morning for Christine. Of course, the water couldn’t help her. Heading back, yet another sigh vibrates through Christine. She reaches for the doorknob, but it escapes her fingers just when she’s about to grab it. Lifting her gaze, she meets the eyes that bore through her full of worry and anxiousness.

A second passes, perhaps two. Cold fingers grip around Christine’s wrist, and Azusa hauls her into the room, slamming the door shut.

“Azu, what’s the matter?” The question jumps off Christine’s lips.

“When I woke up…” Darkness slithers into Azusa’s eyes and he only firms his hold. “...you weren’t there near me in the bed… Or rather… you weren’t around… in the room at all... I feared that you might… have abandoned me...and had left me... Just thinking about it… It got me feeling… very sad… and incredibly scared...”

“Azu…” Slowly, Christine pulls her wrist from Azusa’s fingers only to lean in and cup his icy cheeks. “I will never leave you because I love you.”

But Azusa’s gaze is like the one of a hurt animal. “Then why… did you leave the room… without telling me…!?” His usually sluggish tone of voice pitches higher.

Christine shifts in front of him. “You were still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up.” She allows a tiny sigh to leave her mouth again. “I couldn't sleep. So… I went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.”

“Really…?” Confusion wafts over Azusa’s face. Yet it is soon twisted into suspiciousness. “Or you might be using that… as an excuse for me… to lower my guard...then use that opportunity… to run away and leave me…”

“Azusa stop!” Christine frowns, staring at her love. “You need to learn to trust me. I haven't given you any reason to think that I'll leave you for someone else.” So frustrating! Always this! Always! Why can’t Azusa see how much she loves him? Why can’t he trust that she will stay? Stomping her feet on the carpet, Christine gives the man a final glare. “I'm done talking to you, I'm going to bed now.”

“Wait!” Azusa’s voice is almost insinuating with desperation.

But Christine doesn’t mind. She has gotten enough of this. Turning her back, she refuses to answer. The bed is calling for her.

The next step is never taken.

“Don't you turn your back on me…! I’m not done talking to you yet...!” Azusa seizes Christine’s shoulders, his fingertips digging into her skin as he turns her around so fast, that her head is spinning for a moment. But only for a moment, for the reliant lips capture hers.

“Azusa, no…” Christine shoves Azusa’s chest, breaking the smooch and forcing a whine out of the Vampire. “I want you to trust me…”

For a while, nothing is being said. The couple stares at each other and the silence is thick between them.

Azusa shifts as if he is feeling physically uncomfortable. “It’s hard, Rose… especially when I know… that other men want you…”

His anxiety is kicking in, isn’t it? Christine locks her gaze with Azusa’s while she lets her robe slide off her shoulders and onto the floor. Lifting her hands, she tugs the straps of her nightgown until they run down her upper arms. With a sway of her hips, she allows the piece of garment to drop and pile around her ankles.

“Azu…” Without a hurry, Christine steps out of the nightgown and brings her hands on her curves. There is fire in her loins and desire in her belly. “...you have had my body many times. But…” She slithers her fingers under the waist of her lace pink thong. “...I want you to know.” She draws the lingerie down little by little revealing everything as the ache between her thighs grows more and more insistent. “I'm still yours. My heart and body will always be yours.”

As Azusa’s eyes caress her with lusting, invisible fingers, Christine steps closer. He is all she wants; all she can think of. “My body craves you… Azu…” She sinks into his eyes, and the wet heat flares in her. Lust burns in her brain and she can concentrate on nothing else. “Please… make love to me…”

Azusa swallows. “Rose…”

For a tiny while Azusa’s eyes settle on Christine’s breasts. Just a moment later, he lifts his hand and starts to unbutton his shirt. One by one, the fastenings drop open, baring his chest to Christine’s waiting gaze. He drops the piece of clothing on the floor, and with a swift movement, he scoops her up and carries her through the room, tossing her on the bed so hastily that her head sinks into the pillow. She doesn’t even have time to dampen her lips with her tongue before he is over her, showering kisses on her.

The smooches take over Christine’s senses as she sinks into bliss along with them. Trembles course through her as Azusa takes her lips with his own. So all-consuming. It’s impossible to resist the pull of passion that draws them both in. The kiss is hard, then soft and hard again, coming like waves to the shore, making her blood pulse in her veins with a scarlet web of desire.

Finally, Azusa breaks the kiss and tugs Christine’s bottom lip, scraping it with his peeking fangs. A metallic inkling of a taste wafts onto her tongue, a cue of her own blood. Azusa’s mouth moves down to Christine’s slender throat, his teeth finding the column of her neck and piercing it. The white pain strikes her mind, and she can’t hold back a whine that pushes past her lips.

“Sing more… for me, Rose…” Azusa traces Christine’s side while he focuses on sucking her blood. Releasing a moan, he licks over the bite mark and fishes the last drops of the delicious liquid of life before moving down.

When Azusa’s breath breezes over Christine’s skin, her nipples perk up from the mere thought of what is to come. A cry escapes her when his fangs thrust into the ample flesh of her mound. Drawing blood once more, Azusa caresses her other breast and toys with its hardened peak, gliding his thumb over the nub. Combined with the bite, the sensation hauls Christine into a mixture of sweet pain and luscious pleasure.

As if asking forgiveness, Azusa kisses the reddish bite, tracing the mound until he reaches the stout bud. Flicking over it, he forces a whine out of Christine. Grazing with his fangs, he sucks the nub into his mouth and whirls his tongue around it. Shivers run down Christine’s spine, and she squirms under her lover, wailing.

Releasing the bud, Azusa captures the other and gives it the same treatment. More laments of lust escape to the air while yearning ignites deep within Christine.

“Your voice… spurs me on…” Azusa breathes against the nipple. “Rose… let me hear… more…” He inches closer, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of Christine’s breast. Squealing, she laces her fingers with his hair, presses his head closer, and arches her back to meet his lips and fangs again and again.

And that is only the start of their tingling tango of delight and desperation. Azusa’s fangs find all the sensitive spots of Christine’s, for he knows them well. The mouthwatering scrunch of her upper arm, the cushiony of her waist and belly, the bounciness of her thigh. With each bite, comes a mark of ownership, a sign of love and dedication like no other, painted with pain like proof of life. The perfection the couple only shares with one another and no one else, raw need meeting pure desire.

Heat uncurls in Christine’s abdomen, the urgent need that demands more. She thrills at the thought of Azusa moving inside her.

“Azu…” A quivering whisper. Christine craves more, her body flaring with fervor and mind hazing with urge old as time. This man, this love is all she needs. Meandering under him, she calls him to take what belongs rightfully to him, teases him with the promise of delight.

“Rose… your scent…” Azusa showers Christine’s stomach with thousands of smooches. “...it is… like a garden… My own… rose garden…”

Releasing his grasp, Azusa shoves his pajama pants down along with his underwear as if a cue that Christine’s carnal desire will no longer be denied. He kicks the clothes off the edge of the bed. “You are mine, Rose… I will not hand you over… to anyone…”

Azusa seizes Christine by her waist and flips her over. Her cheek meets the pillow, sinking into it as she wheezes. Just a moment later, Azusa’s fingers entangle with her hair while he buries his nose in it and breathes her in. As he kisses down her nape, his breath is ragged in her ears. He traces her skin, enlacing his fingers with her hair and tugging gently while keeping his other hand on her shoulder blade and scraping her neck.

The soft pecks of his lips on her spine are ever-so-gently. Yet, the possessive desperation lingers between the couple and paints every touch, every lungful of air.

Nuzzling Christine’s spine, Azusa presses another series of smooches on it and inhales deeply. “Your scent… Rose… It’s intoxicating…”

Christine loves to hear Azusa’s sweet words. He clenches his hand in her hair, his digits delving into it for a while before he slides his fingers down her back, cherishing every inch of her skin.

Soft moans of satisfaction sail out of Christine as Azusa holds her waist and caresses the small of her back with his mouth. She can’t help but sway her bottom for him, and he answers the cue, hauling is closer and covering the buttocks with kisses as well while palming the squeezy flesh over and over again.

The fangs puncture Christine’s buttock, forcing a lament out of her. Azusa can’t resist suckling even more of her sweet liquid of life. Her palm meets the headboard of the bed, fingers scratching it as Azusa moves south while his hand reaches the apex of her thighs; the tip of his finger dips in followed by a moist draining sound.

“Rose, you are… so wet… for me…” Azusa’s words vibrate against Christine’s skin just before his tongue glides to the valley between her thighs, savoring the sweet cavern. At the same time, he lets his digit sneak past her pearly gates, sinking in and retreating again. He works his fingers into her once more, igniting her. Her body vibrates in response, and she bites back a whimper.

Azusa’s swirling fingers spread Christine wide, spreading her wetness all over her rosy petals. Curling his digits, he provokes more muffled moans out of her, inflaming her veins with gratification. Kissing and licking, Azusa traces Christine’s swollen folds. She opens for him like a flower as he inches his fingers out only to slash his tongue inside, working her entrance, driving her wild. The sensation locks her in the prison of desires, moistness spreading on her thighs with each delicate flick while his digits reach her already throbbing nub of pleasures.

Christine’s breath comes in soft pants as Azusa’s fingers keep stroking her, sending her into shivers of ecstasy. Her clit cries out for him, her back arches and her fingers clench the blanket as if it is the only thing that keeps her in this realm while he drinks deep from her candied well of bliss. Again and again, bold swipes of his tongue send her spinning in the whirlpool of sacred sensations.

“You taste… so good, Rose…” Kissing her entrance, Azusa slides his tongue toward Christine’s buttocks, snaking its way between them and forcing yet another whimper past her lips. She tenses for the unfamiliar sensation as Azusa tests the new waters, a soggy lick probing the opening he hasn’t conquered yet.

Shivering, Christine squeezes the blanket. What is this? But the protest dies on her lips as Azusa keeps going, kissing and lapping with relish. Small drifts turn into tidal waves of delight, taking Christine beyond reason. Whimpering, she surrenders while Azusa’s tongue wins over her confusion and his thumb dances over her pulsing pearl.

“Every part of… you is mine…” The whisper vibrates against Christine’s buttock, and right after the wet tip of Azusa’s tongue gives her another thrill of rapture.

• Full Uncensored Artwork, Here •

Wailing, Christine grasps the blanket under her and instinctively tugs it into her mouth, stifling her voice. If anything, that drives Azusa further, and his tongue starts to tantalize and tease her whilst his stroking and petting on her glossy bud never stops. She writhes against his hand and the tongue that slips in, tormenting her ever-so-sweetly.

Almost losing herself to the pleasure, Christine shifts her hips adapting to Azusa’s moves. Rapture shoots through her at his touch and tortured moans squeeze from her mouth. If this doesn’t stop soon, she will come apart right here and now. Her moans break through, echoing through the room… and just then, Azusa’s fingers withdraw, and his tongue leaves a wet trail on her bottom.

“No! Azu, please! Don’t stop!” Christine’s cries of yearning cut the air.

“We should… cum together, Rose.”

As Christine wails and heaves, Azusa collects her into his arms, supporting her against his chest. She can’t help the trembles that dash through her muscles from both exhaustion and eagerness.

Nuzzling Christine’s nape, Azusa nibbles it with the peaks of his fangs only. His mouth tells her without words how loved she is. He grabs her chin, gently tilting her head to captivate her lips and lock her into a prison of smooches. The earth-shattering kisses sail into Christine’s heart, for they are not only because of lust but adornment as well. Like Cupid’s arrow into her chest, Azusa’s lips speak a language of their own in a long and leisurely manner.

I love you.

I need you.

I’ll never let go of you.

Spoken words aren’t needed. In silence, they flow from one another as an endless stream that binds them together.

While they kiss open-mouthed, Azusa grinds his erection against Christine’s backside. It slides across her folds, and she can feel how ready he is to take her, to show her to whom she belongs. Nudging her dampened petals, he briefly pauses at her pearly gates, then pushes them wide and shoves his length into her core. Heat meets coldness, creating an inferno spiced with an ice storm.

Azusa sighs with satisfaction as his hardness fills Christine, stripping away everything but her need for him. He places one hand on Christine’s hip, holding her there as he hits the deepest parts of her. For a moment, he breaks the kiss and bites her lower lip, drawing a drip of blood. The wound is sealed fast but the swollen sensation doesn’t leave Christine while the couple sinks into the dance of smooches and bounces. Her body molds against his, as she enjoys the coldness of his skin and the roughness of his thrusts.

“Rose…” Azusa’s breath whispers over Christine’s lips. He ravishes her body while kissing her over and over, pushing all else from her mind. His kiss is full of possessiveness, greedy for even more.

Christine groans into Azusa’s mouth while he claims hers again and again, his lips crushing against hers. They gasp, moan, and writhe while the sun rises above the trees and paints the room with a golden hue of rosy pink. To kiss Azusa like this forever would not be long enough.

• Full Uncensored Artwork, Here •

Christine cherishes the feel of his tongue rubbing hers and can’t help but suck it, enjoying the suction. He’s in her, filling her completely. Not just her body but her mind and soul as well.

Azusa’s hands are cool but demand more and more from Christine. Her breasts bounce with each thrust and the golden cross along with them, hitting her chest every time. He cups her mound, squeezing and caressing it. Gently at first, then rougher. His thumb rasps against her hardened nipple, and soon, he can’t resist the urge to roll and pinch the aching bud, forcing out wailing moans from Christine but only to muffle those with his smooches.

They pant in pleasure, lost in heat as they move together as one. Azusa presses harder into her, deeper, filling Christine up with his cock. Her pussy tightens around him as his length pierces her from behind over and over again. As she stretches and melds, clenching him, he releases a hungry moan into her mouth. His harsh, rough strokes rock her body while they merge, lips on lips.

“Rose… you are…” Azusa pants onto Christine’s lips. “...mine…”

Trapped between torment and ecstasy, Christine’s inner walls ripple against Azusa. He slows down but only to hasten his pace again. Pounding into her depths, he groans, almost growls into their kisses.

Christine’s whole body is on fire with bliss. Her toes curl and her back arches as the waves come, sizzling through every part of her. Azusa’s steely bouncing sends her toward the edge as he pulses in her, making gratification rocket along her veins. He clasps her hips with both hands, pulling her hard into his final thrust, and at the same moment, a soul-shattering orgasm robs Christine of her senses. Azusa’s jerking shaft gushes into her, and his growls of pleasure mingle with her laments. His body tenses as he pours his load deep into her, unleashing his love and melting in her heat.

As he wraps both arms around Christine, Azusa stays inside, letting her milk him while nuzzling her nape through her sweaty hair. “Rose… I love you… so much…”

- End -

Thank you for reading. 📖 🌹

• Artwork by Alluraalteal •

[ashadeintheshade]

City of Angels, Epilogue

They are home.

Read now on Ao3.

[gingertumericlemon]

For @uwusillygirl 's Hellcheer Kinktober Day 5: Intoxicated Sex

[queersintherain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Christine Chapel & T'Pring, Christine Chapel/T'Pring Characters: Christine Chapel, T'Pring (Star Trek), Spock (Star Trek) Additional Tags: Forced Pregnancy, Breeding, Trauma, Whump, Recovery, Hair Braiding, Miscarriage, Stillbirth, Romulans, Genetic Engineering, Bittersweet Ending, Hopeful Ending, this can be read as gen or pre-ship, i ship it so i have tagged as both, past christine/spock and spock/t'pring, the noncon is artificial insemination to clarify, I have somehow written horror / hurt/comfort instead of kink for kinktober, Multiple Forced Pregnancies Series: Part 7 of Kinktober 2023 fills Summary:

Of course, when she’s found, she’s pregnant. Of course, the first person she sees, other than the dark-uniformed Starfleet officers who came to her room in the middle of the night, breaking the door with the fizz of a phaser beam, is the blinding figure of Nurse Christine Chapel, looking ridiculous with her face all slack in shock.

--

In 2259, a Vulcan passenger ship goes missing near the neutral zone. Two and a half years later, a survivor is found. -- I have finally finished and posted another thing for Kinktober! I cannot emphasize enough how much not an erotica or kink story it is, but that is how my mind works apparently! The kinktober prompts go all over the place XD This one is for, of course, “breeding”. Mind the tags, but uh, if anyone is up for it hope you enjoy!

[orlaogden]

Mchart week: The Road Trip

They are both unusually quiet in the morning. As if they are afraid to break the peaceful silence and ruin everything, so they let their bodies speak for their tongues. Kurt fries bacon and eggs, Diane warms up bagels and makes coffee.

A light brush of hands, short timid smiles. She adverts her eyes, and he feels a sudden pang in the chest. His arms snake around her waist, he just can't help it, his lips kiss the side of her head above the right ear. Despite the short glimpse of sadness he felt radiating from her just a moment ago, she leans in his embrace readily, caresses his back, kisses his shoulder. They're bathing in morning sunlight, in the warmth of their embrace and in the smell of the coffee.

"Kurt. Let's get away from the city for a while?" Diane blurts out.

"You mean, go to the country?"

"No... Go on a trip. Spend some time in nature." She knows he would love it. She knows that she will enjoy it too and they need it.

Kurt's eyebrows go up. Diane and nature: a beautiful combination but a rare one.

"Why?"

"To make a room," she pauses and finds his left hand with hers. "To clear more space for... love. Just be simply Diane and Kurt for a while."

Kurt is almost ready to laugh. He thinks that he is always himself and that being in love with her is his default state of being. But he gets it, so he just squeezes her hand and kisses her cheek instead.

"Do you have something particular in mind?"

"Nope. We can make arrangements today and go tomorrow."

"It's a deal then." He smiles into her hair.

The silence between them sparks with anticipation of something exciting as they eat.

***

Eventually they decide to go to Starved Rock. It's not too far from Chicago and it's beautiful.

Kurt's driving the car. Lyle Lovett doesn't provoke a sudden wave of longing anymore. The car doesn't reek of incense. Everything falls right into place. They're not going to meditate, they're going to walk and see the waterfalls, although Diane doesn't even mind watching him fishing for the whole day, breathing in the fresh air and the closeness of the most important person in her life she missed so much and desperately tried to forget in the fear of no future.

"You know what. We should try an axe throwing next."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll show you my moves." She adds with a cheeky smile. 

"I always thought it's a pity that you had got over it before we could try it together." 

"Maybe you'll find that the axes are actually hotter than guns."

"I know for sure that you'd  look hot as hell with an axe. As for the technical side… Maybe I am a simple guy, but I like complicated things, you know."

"Oh, I know. You wouldn't marry me if you haven't." Diane sighs. "There are actually so many things we haven't tried doing together…"

The majority of the trip they discuss their plans for future activities they want to try, building a bridge to their life together in DC. Diane thinks that maybe her cowboy is not an artsy person but he sure knows how to have fun and make her feel warm inside. 

The playful talk only dies out when they stop at a parking lot near a gas station to buy some coffee. Somehow coffee gets forgotten pretty quick as they indulge in a not exactly silent make out session.

***

“There is something humbling about the ancient rocks. We try to be important, be heroes, make a difference, while they’re just standing here and will outlive us all…”

“You’ll be able to make a difference again when you’re back in a courtroom. Real difference for real people.” 

And you will feel better, his tender green eyes tell her. She already feels better. The earth, the rustle of leaves, water and his steady presence ground her. Baby steps are not so frustrating anymore. Finally she knows what she needs to do: go back to what she does best. Leading a law firm, fighting for clients she actually cares about. Finally she doesn’t feel so painfully alone.

She looks down at the calm water surface and muses. 

This is crazy how you start to think that a person you have mutual interests with understands you on a truly deep level, seeking his advice because you feel like drowning, only to realize later that he doesn't know you at all. And it makes sense, because he really doesn't.

And this is crazy how a person, you have so little in common with on a surface level, gets you better than anyone else in the world. It doesn't make sense at all, but it feels so right when you don't overthink it.

***

"Ouch!" Diane stumbles and almost falls but Kurt's strong hand supports her in time.  

"Are you alright, hon?" he asks gently caressing her side. Diane takes a deep breath trying to not lean too much onto him.

"I think I've twisted my ankle. I'll be alright in a minute."

"You need to sit down and rest for a bit…" Kurt looks around trying to find something suitable. Sadly, they are out in the wild and there are no benches. "What do you think about this nice looking rock?" 

Kurt helps Diane to reach the big flat rock he spotted and sit down. Then he takes three steps back, checks her out affectionately and pulls the smartphone out of his pocket. 

"You look like a princess who got lost in the woods."

"Yeah, seventy years old princess in leather pants", Diane answers sarcastically. 

"Princess SexyPantsass", Kurt says lightheartedly and gets a perfect shot of her laughing. This will be a nice addition to his growing collections of Diane's photos. 

When Kurt helps Diane to stand up again, his stomach grumbles loudly. 

"I think we should head to the picnic area. Maybe this place has a dark history, but I don't want my galant knight to starve!"

***

Kurt gives Diane a plate with a hot aromatic grilled cheese sandwich and two sausages on the side while she spoonfeeds him a pasta salad she made this morning. He feeds her grapes. She wipes her hands with a napkin and pats his knee. They clunk two beers and toast their trip. The silence they've immersed into now is comforting in all its cozyness. 

A gust of wind ruffles Kurt's hair, and Diane's fingertips tingle. He is relaxed, almost serene. He looks at her with such tenderness that her lips start tingling too. She brushes breadcrumbs from his mustache, lightly touching the upper lip with her pinkie. He smiles and kisses her fingers. She can't restrain herself anymore. One hand goes up his cheek and disappears in the thick silver hair. The other hand goes up his chest, then his neck. And they are kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Bottles fall clinking against each other. Diane silently prays for the bottles to be empty, but when they end the kiss she looks only at him. 

"Now I'm starved for something else", Kurt breathlessly murmurs in her ear, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. Diane is half turned on, half hyper-aware that they're in a public space. 

"I'm afraid we have to starve for this much longer, my love", she whispers, moving away from him. The look on his face when she says the last two words almost makes her cry. 

“Thank you for coming back to me.” She literally breathes the sentence out. Her guilty look adds: Despite me hurting your feelings again and again.

It is both an apology for how she had left things and gratitude for him finally being here for her, not on the phone with a despicable organization, not somewhere else.

“Thank you for choosing us again.” Kurt answers simply, his voice is breaking in the middle. 

Her brows form two slanting lines, her lips tremble. As though they both could go a different way. They almost did, but no, she couldn't, they couldn’t.

She just hugs him then. If she could melt into his soft flannel shirt, she would. His hands clutch so tightly on her back as if he is afraid she would disappear. 

The next moment an angry kid passes them muttering something about "gross adults". They break their embrace and laugh, probably making the kid even angrier. The unexpressed thought makes them laugh even louder. 

On the way back to the car they see a double rainbow. 

"Everything is gonna be alright", Diane thinks. Kurt opens a car door for her. Going back home doesn't seem so depressing anymore. 

_______________

The song in the edit: Love Will Keep Us Alive by Scorpions. 

Thank you @rexlockhart for organizing such a wonderful fandom event! 💗💗💗

[archersartcorner]

spiraling down thy majesty,

i beg of thee have mercy on me.

I WAS JUST A BOY YOU SEE

I PLEAD OF THEE HAVE SYMPATHY FOR ME.

hi I finished TOS finally and am watching TAS before I move onto the movies. Did we all see S1E2 did we all enjoy S1E2 Yesteryear my beloved Yesteryear?

[thisisahyperfixationnow]

What about Bones?

So sometimes I think about AOS vs TOS, and the biggest thing is that in TOS, Mcspirk is basically cannon. You cannot tell me those boys don’t love each other, it makes me crazy.

But in AOS, it’s just Spirk. Don’t get me wrong, I was a Spirk fan waaaaaay before I noticed Mcspirk in TOS, but I try to see the tension between anyone in shows I watch, I Jim and Bones just seemed like brothers. On the surface, this is just interesting, but what about Prime!Spock? (I’m gonna call him Selek)

Because he knew Jim and Leonard since his 30s. In this scenario, he dated them, basically married them. Hell, he’s t’hy’la with one and shared his katra with the other. He knows them. It’s the three of them.

So do you think he gets whiplash sometimes?

I bet he visits Jim and Spock, sometimes, especially after they start dating. And I wonder if one time they’re talking, and Bones walks in, and he’s expecting him to join in. To meld into the pair like his Leonard did. But instead he stands apart, like the friend that he is. I bet it’s heartbreaking, another reminder of what Selek’s lost.

Not only that, but what about Bones?

There’s an animatic somewhere on YouTube of Everything Stays where it compared AOS and TOS, and it pointed out to me that in the Kelvin timeline, there’s no nurse Chapel, and it got me thinking.

Not only do we not see Nurse Chapel, but I don’t remember there being a Doctor M’Benga either. So he has none of his original work friends in the sickbay. Well, he still has Jim and Spock, to an extent.

But what about Joanna?

We hear about Jocelyn in the shuttle, how his wife took the whole damned planet in the divorce, but does that include his daughter? The crew are significantly younger in AOS, does he even have her? Just how lonely is Bones?

I think about Leonard McCoy a lot.

[facelessfinest]

I think it's time we all admit that What if?...Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead Of His Hands? has been the only genuinely interesting and well done episode of the show so far.

High stakes, good pacing, phenomenal animation, and a story that actually deviates from the original in a meaningful way. It actually feels like such a small change lead to a vastly different reality.

I think what makes a What If? story interesting is the ties it has to the main timeline; if you want to showcase how a small choice can utterly change a whole universe, then you have to start in a universe that is comparably the same as what we already know, and show how one character choosing one different option can be catastrophic. Otherwise, you aren't really exploring branching timelines/butterfly effect, you're just looking at unrelated universes.

Even then, not every idea is interesting enough to warrant spending so much time on it. *ahem* captain carter *cough*.

Strange Supreme's appearances are just so fascinating because we get to see the new highs and lows a character can reach when their hearts are in a slightly different place. We get our unique factor in the form of him being genuinely in love with Christine instead of his job, and then our diverging path with him choosing to seek out dangerous knowledge, a choice which is highlighted by showcasing what would have happened if he hadn't done so! In the end, the universe is fundamentally changed, completely collapsed around him, despite starting off so normal. And that's not even the end of it!

He shows up in more episodes because of the power and knowledge he has attained, and as a lesson to the Watcher that choosing to sit out is only selfishness in the face of a danger that is ready and willing to take advantage of your compliance. It is genuinely fun to see the power he has in action; Ultron tried to blow up the universe in the finale, and Strange DEVOURED THE EXPLOSION. Like, that's fucking awesome!

And then there's Carter... Whose reason for being everwhere is just "I'm Captain Carter!" How dull...

Anyways, Strange supreme is goated and I will have no sass.

[marypickfords]

Prime Evil (Roberta Findlay, 1988)

[star-trekster]

WHY IS SPOCK EATING BACON NOOOOOOOO

THE SPOCK DRIFT IS IN FULL EFFECT

[lonesomedreamer]

another thing that’s wild about SNW is the way it treats Spock, the franchise’s most beloved and iconic character by far. it’s not just the weak writing (Ethan does a great job, and it’s obvious that he loves Spock—but there are times when even his best efforts can’t save the script).* it’s that almost none of the SNW characters themselves seem to like or respect Spock.

I’ve already pointed it out how often Spock is mocked and belittled by his fellow officers for just doing his (essential!) job as the science officer; that judgment and harsh treatment extends to his own fiancée (while in-character for her, T'Pring’s attitude is often portrayed as reasonable by the narrative). even Christine, Spock’s biggest supporter and the most understanding/sympathetic of his colleagues, ultimately shuts him down when he does his best to be emotionally supportive!

sure, there were plenty of times when the og Spock was teased—or even insulted—by his friends. Uhura sings about him in an early episode, but he’s obviously in on the joke, because he’s smiling and playing lyre while she sings. when Kirk does it, the audience can tell that it’s coming from a place of love. when Bones does it (whether or not you think he’s actually being racist or not), Spock can and does give as good as he gets—it’s mutual. and when someone else is judgmental towards Spock, their behavior is almost always called out by other characters (Bones included!) (“leave any bigotry in your quarters, there’s no room for it on the Bridge.” / “he has no heart.” “his heart is different!”)

an entire TOS movie is dedicated to the idea of Spock being so valued by his friends that all six of them would put their careers and lives on the line without hesitation just for the chance to bring him back from the dead! there are also plenty of other instances in the show itself when his friends refuse to give him up for dead (“shut up, Spock! we’re rescuing you!” etc.) though Spock’s linguistic precision and technobabble are sources of humor, they’re not usually used a reason to ridicule him.

contrast that to SNW, in which Christine has to beg two of his fellow Bridge officers, Ortegas and Uhura, to accompany her when she begs the inter-dimensional aliens to fix Spock’s broken genome, because she’s the only one on the Enterprise who seems to care that he’s been altered. his fellow officers also regularly make snarky comments like “plan on marrying that debris field, Spock?” and “can’t you just say ‘two moons’?” etc., as Spock is making scientific observations in his capacity as the science officer and even confront him (“are you just some heartless, pointy-eared computer?”) in traumatic/dangerous moments. and to make matters worse, the SNW writers rarely if ever allow Spock to clap back in this scenes the way he so often did in TOS.

I understand that SNW’s Spock is younger, less experienced, and less sure of himself. he’s a lieutenant, not the first officer. nonetheless, he’s the butt of so many jokes and looked down on/judged harshly by so many other characters that I can’t help but wonder if the writers have a similarly low opinion of him.

*to be clear, I don’t think that exploring the possibility of a romance with Christine Chapel is an example of the show or writers disrespecting Spock—but the way they’ve handled his relationships with both T’Pring and Christine (the fact that both of them are “love interests” at all, actually) evidence of their apparent disregard for and misunderstanding of his character, imo.

[exhausted-undead]

here they are, my skrunkles

[purplelupins]

For those who might be wondering why I didn’t include Matthew Kimble on my poll for Hamish characters, it’s not because I don’t love him and think he needs more fanfics out there…it’s just because I try to write the characters as realistic as i can (which is good and bad) and honestly, TNAOOC has some tones in it that I think a lot of us aren’t super comfortable with? It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, but I just wouldn’t want you thinking I’ll just write a quick smut fic like wam bam thank ya maam, because I don’t do that. My midnight Mass fanfic is now over 75k all because I wanted my reader and Father Paul to do the dirty. So if I wrote Matthew, I could have to dive into some darker stuff that the show coasts over.

Just my thoughts and reasonings! If anyone wants to talk about it I’m happy to, just shoot me an ask or comment.

-Nora