hi people call me Doods welcome to my trek zone | they/them | EVERY star trek. special emphasis on ent and lwd | art posts under #orig
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Nerys!! ♥︎ She has possesed my body and soul these past few days I can't stop drawing her
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Wouldn’t it be crazy if they made Spock’s grandma a lesbian freedom fighter that would be sooooo crazy
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one trek headcanon I have is that plomeek soup is a chai tea situation. plomeek is just the vulcan word for soup, actually. on the first enterprise, having to make do with mostly earth ingredients, t'pol hashed together a simplified version of a comforting soup native to her region of vulcan and one thing led to another and now that regional variation of a single soup recipe is called soup soup by the federation
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happy t'pol tuesday!
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long time no t'pol <3
#t'pol#star trek enterprise#ent#orig#haha its not been that long since ive drawn t'pol it's only been [checks last post] TWO YEARS??????#im so sorry tpol youre still in my heart forever
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How I understand Trip/T'Pol [Patreon | Commissions]
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Kira Makes a Traditional Dinner for Ziyal
This cute art by @starfleetspacecadet earlier and it inspired me. Sooo, here’s a drabble:
When Ziyal came to stay on DS9, Kira was determined to share more Bajoran culture with the younger woman. And what was more Bajoran and traditional than a good meal made from scratch, blessed by the Prophets?
Kira could envision it now. Their bowls would be full of ratamba stew. Their hands were full of warm hasperat, soaked in the briny sauce that would sting their eyes with the heat. It would be a hearty, warming meal. Kira would love to share that.
“Kira, I’d love to help! Thank you for thinking of me. Oh, this will be so wonderful!” Ziyal hugged Kira in excitement.
“Alright, meet me at my quarters tonight at 1900 and then we’ll get started.”
As the time to 1900 grew closer, Kira thought back to her mother teaching her how to make hasperat. It had been the occupation, but it was during the good days. The quiet ones. A small moment in time where children could still play outside before sunset without fear of dying in a flash bombing by a passing Cardassian ship. That came later. But Kira could remember a rare sunny afternoon, the smell of flour, and the light splash of spring wine from the last bottle stored in the back of the pantry.
“We don’t know when we’ll have it again, so we can’t put in too much. But here, try a little.” She dabbed her finger in the wine and tapped a small drop on Kira’s lips. It tasted sour and sweet. Her mother had been right, it would be a very long time until Kira ever saw a bottle of spring wine again during the occupation. Now it was an item, a luxury she could afford.
Kira could remember the taste. The slight sweetness of the wine in the wrap. The substitute chillies used in the brine were weak, but burned her tongue all the same. The bite of the pan as her mom encouraged her to grab the tip of the wrap with her fingers to flip it. How fluffy and warm it was with bits of brown across the top. Ripping it apart and watching the steam rise.
But she did not remember her mother’s recipe anymore. The rest of it, the exact measurements, were lost with her.
Kira bit her lip and grabbed her PADD to find one. Ziyal deserved to try an authentic, traditional recipe anyhow. What she’d learned, what her mother prepared, had been made with limited rations. Never mind the times Kira had made it during her days with the Resistance.
They’d spent an hour grinding down dried and stale katterpods instead of the traditional grain. It came out chewy, hard, and cold. The brine flavorless with no kick. The only warmth their meal offered was in the smiles of her comrades as they bit into the far from traditional hasperat.
She pulled up the first recipe and grew alarmed. Kira’s pantry wasn’t the fullest, after all, the replicator did just fine.
But these so-called traditional recipes required ingredients Kira had never heard of in her entire life. What were all these ingredients? Kira took a deep breath. There was only one solution.
She walked up the steps of Ops and knocked on the door. “I apologize, Captain, but could I ask for your advice on a personal matter?”
Sisko looked up from the PADD. “Of course, Major. Happy to make time for you. What’s on your mind?”
“You seem to know a thing or two about cooking,” Kira said, but before she could continue, Sisko laughed.
“I’d hope so. While I had other ambitions, my dad did want me to be a chef like him.”
“Exactly! So I’m hoping you could give me advice.” Kira explained the situation and passed him the PADD with the recipe. “But it’s top-rated and it seemed like a good choice.”
Sisko hummed a tune as he looked over the ingredients, tapping here and there. “I have a few of these so-called necessities in my pantry. I’m happy to lend a neighbor some sugar.”
“Sugar?” Kira blanched. “Sir, I don’t think the recipe calls for—.”
Sisko flashed her a handsome smile. “Sorry, Major, a figure of speech. But I’ve got some of these. Growing the red chillies as a matter of fact, and I’m happy to let you have some.”
Sisko handed back the PADD. A different recipe was on it and starred.
“Was something wrong with the other one?” Kira asked with a curious look on her face.
“No, no.” Sisko shook his head. “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate making that particular version. The author is Cardassian.”
“…a Cardassian with a recipe called Traditional Bajoran Hasperat? Will they not steal anything?” Kira grasped the PADD hard enough that it could crack. “I can’t believe it. No wonder the ingredients didn’t make sense.”
He sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid, Major, it won’t be the first or last time a recipe is misattributed and misplaced. They might have meant well, but that sort of thing has been happening for a long, long time.”
Kira laid everything out on her counter after getting the ingredients from Sisko’s well-stocked pantry and garden. The stew required time to simmer, so Kira started before Ziyal arrived. It also wasn’t that much of a mystery or required a strict recipe.
Kira had watched her dad prepare this with only one root vegetable, and it still came out delicious. Now she had fresh, nutrient-packed vegetables gathered from a station merchant and Sisko’s garden.
And though she wouldn’t say it to him so directly, what a beautiful gift from the Emissary for his help with this meal. Kira would need to bring him some as thanks.
Kira cut everything evenly and threw everything in the pot. This part was easy. Admittedly, it was the wraps and brine of the hasperat that Kira was worried about.
Then at 19.01, the doorbell rang. Kira took a quick sip of her sweet spring wine, wiped her hands on a towel, and strode to the door.
When it slid open, there was Ziyal, who was pretty and smiling as always. She had a bottle of spring wine in her hands with a red bow tied around its neck.
“Uh, Garak said it was polite to bring a gift.” Ziyal handed it to her gently, and Kira’s chest felt warm.
Together, they diced the chillies and prepared the thickening brine. And though the recipe called for more spring wine, Kira only put a splash in the bowl.
“Are you sure? The recipe said—.”
“Trust me. It’s how my mother did it,” said Kira softly. Ziyal nodded, and together they kneaded the dough on the floured surface.
They got comfortable on plush seat cushions, and the finished meal sat between them on the coffee table. It took some prodding, but Kira encouraged Ziyal to speak the blessings of the Prophets over the food. She hesitated, a purple blush rushing up her cheeks, but she did a good job, and Kira told her so.
Now it was the moment of truth. Ziyal took a bite of the hasperat and paused after a few chews. Swallowed, then gasped. Her eyes were wide and full of tears as she fanned her mouth. “I-is it supposed to be this hot? Did I add too many ch-chillies?”
“No, you did it right.” Though Kira could handle the heat better, she still had to wipe her eyes as well. “This is exactly how hot a traditional hasperat should be. Here.”
Kira handed Ziyal a glass of spring wine to wash away the heat. After how many gulps, some bites of stew, they each took up their remaining hasperats and ate them until nothing was left but stained fingers and tingling lips. Not a single tear in their eyes as they finished the bottle of spring wine.
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T’Pol, the Vulcan you are.

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Little T’pol from memory doodle
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These pronouns are going to drive me crazy - Ezri Dax
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Should we have that leftover hasprat for dinner or go to the replimat?
ds9 art kids ds9 ART KIDS
there are, a lot of details in this
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T'Pol (MTF) + Charles "Trip" Tucker III (FTM) [Star Trek: Enterprise]
Propaganda: "Okay, there is literally an episode where Trip gets pregnant (not from T'pol), he just served as a host since it was transferred to him from a pebble "game" that transferred genetic information to him, but still. If I remember correctly T'Pol at one point says all vulcans experience Pon Farr, but only male vulcans experience it, despite her experiencing it in an episode. Near the end of the series, people took DNA from Trip and T'Pol, which they used to make a clone of them, resulting in a baby (which the villains, an xenophobic extremist group were going to use the baby for their anti alien views), T'pol and Trip named the baby after Trip's sister, Elizabeth."
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it's t'pol with the ball tuesday
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AND YOU MAY FIND YOURSELF ON A BEAUTIFUL SHIP…. WITH A BEAUTIFUL CREW… AND YOU MAY ASK YOURSELF…. HOW DID I GET HERE?
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I looooove @starfleetspacecadet 's trek ocs so I just had to take a shot at drawing some (while sprinkling in interactions with my own crew ofc)
Bonus: S'vel projecting period cramps onto her captain

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for t'pol nation 💖
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