#hise

[mimisuuo]

JUST DANCE! *repost of a silly little thing from my ig (fr0gs.br3ath)*

click on read more for inspo pic!

[terrazaurio]

Baby Lira wagging her widdol tail and being the most adorable girl in the world.

[crownanother]

Apparently, back in the day, there was a really notorious tie in novel for Star Trek that had a lot of slash elements called Killing Time

The slash elements were requested to be removed by Paramount, and they were, BUT due to a mistake, the original was sent to print without the edits

When it was caught, they’d printed 250k of this “first edition” which subsequently became collectors items for Kirk/Spock fans, since later editions DID include the edits censoring the slash

NOW, I bring this up because my friend who’s into the original Star Trek found and was reading the first edition at the desk at the library we work at, cause we’re slow on weekends and we’re the only ones here. She laughs at it, so I ask and she tells me about the general backstory of the book, and that she laughed because (among other things) Kirk, who doesn’t get mad in the og series really, was being described as hot headed and apparently just getting into fights left and right

So I’m looking over her shoulder at the scene, commenting on the character changes that resemble modern fic-degradation of characterization for the sake of a shipping dynamic, when I realize something

Now, my only interaction with the Star Trek series directly was the 2009 reboot, and my friends hasn’t seen those and is only interested in the originals. As I’m looking at this scene, and my friend is pointing out the character changes to Kirk, I realize that this is the fucking premise of the reboot, down to the fucking alternative timeline shenanigans, the rank swap, and Kirk being a hotheaded fuck up

The 2009 film was literally based on this slash fiction misprint they tried to bury!

Im reeling.

I can’t be the only one who made this connection.

So I google to see if anyone else has, and oh yes, good, there was someone

The fucking author of Killing Time

…I feel like I’ve uncovered a conspiracy. I’ve still got 3 hours left in my shift and I can’t focus. The world must know.

[lichqueenlibrarian]

Spock: The captain seems unhappy. Perhaps if I pretend to misunderstand a common Terran idiom, he will be amused.

[strawberryreddy]

I have finished Killing Time and the second chapter just killed me so I did this

[9151967]

Hey, don't cry. 5 Della Van Hise fics in PDF form, saved by the WayBack, all available for download ♡

DVH notoriously had her fics pulled from AO3 and she never uploaded them again. Outside of purchasing the zines she wrote for and created—and given her 14 confirmed pseuds, good luck tracking down everything—finding the odd scan of a zine online or the occasional working archived link from her AO3 is not easy.

(All of these works are linked on Fanlore on the fic's individual pages, but as it always goes with Fanlore, organization is not the best and DVH's main page links to an older version of her site before she offered these stories for free; this is to just get the awareness out and ramble on my blog about it, tiny though it is. As my friend put it went I sent these to her, "This is like Christmas in May!")

For those of us who can't afford to drop $40+ on a zine (average cost; we've all seen higher), lack the space for keeping old zines, or are afraid of opening the door of Buying All The Zines, may this find you well ♡

Front and back cover artwork from Hise's zine Styx and Stones. Left image by Marilyn Cole, served as the inspiration for the fic Styx and Stones; Right image by Jackie Zoost

On Wings of Ice (1987)

"Stranded on a frozen planet when their shuttlecraft is sabotaged, Kirk and Spock share love as they wait for death." [More on Fanlore]; originally published in KSX #1 My 2 cents: I cried with this one and it was worth it. There's phrasing in this one that has me rending my garments.

Collaboration (1987)

"When Kirk points out that their relationship may have become complacent, he and Spock put their heads together to see what can be done to breathe life back into the bedroom. But of course, nothing is ever as straightforward as it seems… A twisted little K/S tale." [More on Fanlore]; originally published in Styx and Stones My 2 cents: One part fic, one part meta about K/S and why fans create (yes, really! She pulled it off beautifully), all fluffy feelings.

Styx and Stones (1987)

"Spock awakens in a new land after dying and waits for Jim, who is in a coma following a shuttle crash." [More on Fanlore]; originally published in Styx and Stones My 2 cents: I wish I knew what it was like to read this before On Wings of Ice. I'm not saying this was bad or boring - far from it! Hise used a lot of poetic creativity in her depictions - but my brain kept thinking back to On Wings of Ice and that does this story a disservice.

Someone to Watch Over Thee (1988)

"Spock, Kirk, and an ambassador are given aphrodisiacs by the leader of a hedonistic society and itʼs up to the security men to make sure they get who and what they need." [More on Fanlore]; originally published in Naked Times #18 CW: rape/noncon elements (your mileage my vary on this, however, I'm noting it out of an abundance of caution) My 2 cents: it's Aliens Made Them Do It but told from the perspective of a Redshirt.

The Gol Letters (1988)

"Apart, Kirk and Spock each write letters to each other, each believing that the other will never read them." [More on Fanlore]; originally published in Naked Times #18 My 2 cents: I personally felt like a pumpkin with its innards scooped out but then became a ball of fluff. Heed that as you will.

More about DVH:

She's both a pillar of the fandom for her prolific work as the publisher and editor for the Pon Farr Press (and its many zines) and for her many works of poetry and fanfic, be they short stories, novellas, or novels. In the professional realm, Hise is perhaps best known for the (in)famous Killing Time. (Really, read the link for (in)famous. DVH certainly got screwed over by that contract, although highlight the text here and she's banking on the reputation of it, lol. DVH, I can never hate you. And peep the other link too for a surprise ♡)

She passed away on March 3, 2021 and is survived by her partner Natasha Solten. (Her AO3 for anyone who wants that directly. The bulk of her Star Trek fics are locked to registered users-only.)

[gaytricorder]

hey i just started getting into TOS and i want to start reading more of the star trek novels but there are so many of them! do you have any recommendations for where to begin with the books or any specific ones i should read

if you’re looking for gay these two: the price of the phoenix and killing time (uncensored version)

if you’re looking for fun this one: doctor’s orders

(everything by diane duane is great)

[sepdet]

Killing Time Excerpts #3

Kirk and Spock have a date take a walk in the ship's gardens (p 18-27)

(from a rare 1st edition Star Trek novel by Della van Hise that was yanked, censored and republished to remove excess Kirk/Spock vibes— this is the original version)

Context: The crew's been having nightmares. Kirk received a top secret transmission from Starfleet he had to decode by hand.

____

Kirk stared at the tri-level chessboard without really seeing it, and absently moved the white queen one level higher.

Eyebrow arching, Spock leaned back. "A most unwise move, Captain," he observed, easily detecting Kirk's uncharacteristic lack of concentration. Without trying, the Vulcan had won his third consecutive game.

Kirk shook his head with a sigh, remembering the slip of paper in the top drawer, the dreams. "Distracted, I guess," he ventured, meeting his first officer's eyes and forcing an unfelt smile.

He inhaled deeply, then leaned back in the chair and folded his hands neatly behind his head, stretching. "I don't mean to keep whipping a dead horse, Spock," he began, "but . . . from what I've found out— about the dreams— it's starting to give me the willies."

The Vulcan stared mutely at his captain. "What would it profit to administer punishment to a deceased lifeform, Captain?" he wondered, attempting to lighten the heavy mood which had settled on Kirk during the course of the day. "And precisely what are the . . . willies?"

Kirk's smile broadened. "The creeps, Mister Spock," he clarified. "The crawls. The shivers. The boogey-man blues."

The eyebrow slowly lowered. "Of course, Captain," Spock replied, as if the entire matter was suddenly explained.

With a shrug, Kirk rose from the chair, moving into the living area of his quarters. He looked at the dresser for a moment, then impulsively yanked open a drawer and seized a plaid flannel shirt. After hastily removing the gold command tunic and tossing it across the room into the laundry disposal, he slipped into the civilian attire and began buttoning the shirt. He had to put command temporarily aside, and the braid on his sleeve was a constant reminder that that was never easy to do.

"C'mon, Spock," he urged, walking toward the door and tipping the white chess king over onto its side. "Let's take a walk. Maybe I just need some distance from everything."

The Vulcan's head tilted in curiosity. The ship's patrol was so utterly routine that he wasn't particularly surprised to see Kirk's nature asserting itself. The captain was the type of man who was always on the move, always seeking new adventures—and usually involved in dangerous excitement. In a moment of admitted illogic, Spock questioned the mentality of Command for sending the Enterprise to patrol the Neutral Zone in the first place. Surely, he thought, it would have been more reasonable to assign such a mission to a Scout class vessel. The Enterprise was, after all, the most efficient ship in the Fleet; and the Vulcan couldn't help wondering if the reasoning behind their current patrol was more complicated than anyone had been led to believe.

And there was the matter of the manually coded transmission. But he rose from the chair and followed his friend. Kirk would tell him— when and if the time was right. But as he passed by the chessboard, he reached out and impulsively righted the white king.

"What's the matter, Spock?" Kirk asked, face suddenly alight with mischief as he stood waiting by the now open door. "Afraid I'll have you court-martialed for insubordination because you beat me in another game of chess?"

The Vulcan merely shook his head as he fell in step alongside his captain, and they ventured into the corridor. "Hardly," he replied. "I merely thought it inappropriate to abandon the match so early in the evening. Your unorthodox approach to chess will doubtlessly assert itself later and you will discover some method of defeating me with an illogical and unpredictable move." He squared broad shoulders, innocently looking straight ahead as they approached the lift. "I am merely offering you that opportunity, Captain."

Kirk grinned. "In other words, Spock," he surmised, "you're generously giving me one final chance to humiliate myself."

"Captain!" Spock replied indignantly.

Kirk suppressed a laugh as they reached the lift. He thumbed the button, waiting for the doors to open. "You know, Spock," he mused. "Sometimes I wonder about you. Sometimes I think you're the ship's resident guardian angel— and other times I'm convinced you're the devil in disguise."

The Vulcan stared straight ahead, face expressionless. "Folklore is sometimes based in fact, Captain," he replied enigmatically.

—•—

For a long time, they simply walked, visiting areas of the ship which were normally removed from the world of command. Finally as if by intuition, Kirk stopped in front of a large door, looked at it as if deciding whether or not to enter, then finally depressed the lock mechanism and urged the Vulcan along with a quick nod of his head. Spock followed, somewhat reticently.

"C'mon," Kirk prompted with a grin. "Stop acting like a cat who's afraid of getting his feet wet."

Spock remained stubbornly standing outside the door. "Captain," he protested, "it is a biological fact that Vulcans are sensitive to high humidity. The gardens—"

But before he could complete the sentence, Kirk seized him by one arm and dragged him forward with a laugh. "Live a little, Spock," he suggested. "And that's an order."

The Vulcan sighed, and slowly followed Kirk into the room. For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, Spock felt uneasy—as if this area of the ship was suddenly alien, dangerous. He lifted both brows at the illogical consideration, and took a moment to look around. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet the feeling persisted—as if ghostly eyes followed them. He swept the thought away. Illogical. Unacceptable behavior—particularly for a Vulcan. Reality seemed unstable. The brows rose higher, and though Kirk seemed oblivious to the sudden ethereal change, Spock couldn't deny its existence. Somehow, he felt himself altered, alien even to his own mind. But he continued following, nonetheless. Kirk's instincts were always good, he told himself.

Once inside the lush green gardens, Kirk felt some of the uneasiness leave him. He thought for a brief instant that he detected a hesitation in Spock, but when he turned to glance over his shoulder, it was to see the Vulcan standing close at his side. He dismissed the sensation, passing it off to mundane distractions and tedium as his eyes settled on the "world" before him.

The maze paths which ran throughout this Earthlike area of the ship gave the illusion of five miles of hiking trails in a natural environment. Kirk attempted to divorce himself from the fact that it was merely an impression--carefully designed by the builders of the Enterprise to promote a feeling of "home." The room itself was approximately a hundred yards deep and seventy-five yards wide, almost overgrown with thousands of plants—flowers and small trees from a thousand different worlds. It was always spring here, the air fresh and clean. Even the air-conditioning vents had been designed to provide the illusion of a gentle breeze; and the domed ceiling spoke of a clear blue Terran sky, complete with clouds and occasional rainbows. When ship's night began to fall, a pseudo-sunset adorned the high ceiling, its purples, pinks and oranges all but obliterating the reality that one was still aboard a starship at least five light-years from the nearest Class M planet.

Forcing himself to ignore his own tensions, Kirk slipped into the Earth fantasy as he began walking along the central maze path—which would, he recalled, eventually lead to the deepest portion of the garden. As he looked up to see the Vulcan at his side, he couldn't help noticing that the gardens were having their effect even on Spock. The first officer seemed so much more relaxed and at peace here—even if somewhat distracted, Kirk noticed. For a moment, the human could almost envision his second in command swinging from a tree limb as he'd done once before—but not without the influence of spores to erase the normal Vulcan restraints. It was a soothing image, despite the fact that it was impossible. For an instant, Kirk wondered what would eventually become of his friend—of the two of them, where they would be in another twenty years. For himself, he suspected he'd still find some way of manipulating the stars,chasing adventure through the dark regions of time and space. But for Spock . . . His mind traveled back in time—to Vulcan. To a day when Spock had been prepared to marry . . . and disaster had resulted. Unbonded now, the Vulcan was walking a tightrope between life and death; for without the deep mental rapport necessary to establish a bonding, Spock would die in the blood fever of pon farr.

Despite the heat of the gardens, Kirk shivered, walking a little faster toward the central portion of the room. Surely, he told himself, Spock wouldn't die. Surely, he told himself, there would be someone with whom the Vulcan could bond, someone who could walk the path with him, balance him, love him.

For a long time, Kirk considered that. He wondered if the Vulcan knew what he was thinking, decided that it didn't matter. He would have said it aloud—had said it aloud countless times. He smiled to himself. No secrets, he'd once told Spock. And the Vulcan had agreed. He closed his eyes, and attempted to put the frightening thought of the future in the back of his mind. It would take care of itself—somehow.

At last reaching the central portion of the gardens, Kirk took a moment to study his surroundings. Six large trees which vaguely resembled weeping willows grew in a circle approximately thirty yards in diameter. Branches like arms hung to the ground, sweeping against the grassy floor of the gardens.

Entering the circle of trees, Kirk took a deep breath of fresh air, and moved to one of the old stone benches which had begun to sport a healthy growth of mildew. He sat down slowly, then leaned back until he felt the cold moisture of the stone seep through his shirt and onto his shoulder blades. It was good in a way he couldn't describe—good in the same way a memory of childhood was good. It brought back recollections of sneaking off to the park on a warm May afternoon when he should have been in school. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fantasy, the memories . . . the illusions which existed only in the past. But when he opened his eyes again, it was to see Spock still standing, looking down at him questioningly. There was concern—and possibly Vulcan worry—written in the black eyes. Kirk held the penetrating gaze for a moment, then managed a smile when he saw the Vulcan soften. "Live a little, Spock," he said again, indicating a nearby bench with a nod of his head. "Didn't you ever go out and roll in the grass when you were a kid?"

The arched brow spoke volumes for the Vulcan's childhood. "No . . ." Kirk decided. "I guess not." He rolled into a sitting position, feeling the nervousness and depression return despite the momentary external facade. He knew the Vulcan could see through his masks. "Sit down," he said more seriously. "I need a wailing wall, Spock."

The Vulcan might have considered responding in the customary, teasing way, but the idea left him as he observed the unusual tension in the familiar hazel eyes. Perhaps Kirk had felt the difference, the ghostly quality of their surroundings. He settled for a neutral approach. "This mission should not last much longer, Jim," he ventured, feeling suddenly inadequate to deal with Kirk's frustrations as he searched for something positive to say. "We are scheduled for shore leave in less than a month." He paused as if hearing the clipped tone of his own voice; perhaps teasing with this human was the only solution. "And I believe Altair has always been one of your favorites, has it not?"

Kirk shook his head, then felt angry butterflies warring in his stomach again. "Altair . . ." he mused. He looked closely at the Vulcan, then impulsively reached into the pocket of the plaid shirt to withdraw the crumpled piece of paper he'd hidden there earlier. He unfolded it, handing it to the Vulcan. "The transcript," he explained. "All leaves have been indefinitely postponed."

The Vulcan studied the paper carefully, committing its sparse contents to memory.

KIRK: YOUR CURRENT MISSION EXTENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTIFICATION. THREE EAGLES LANDING ON THE BORDER MIGHT NEED FLIGHT INFORMATION. A TIMELY CONSIDERATION FOR ENTERPRISE—EAGLES FLY BY NIGHT.

Spock looked up, handed the paper back to Kirk. "Romulan activity," he surmised.

Kirk nodded. "Romulan activity, Mister Spock." Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he rose and began to pace back and forth in the confines of the circle of trees. "From the sounds of that transmission, the upper echelons are getting more than a little worried," he continued. "But no one seems to be able to pinpoint what the Romulans are up to this time." He shrugged. "Command suspects it has something to do with an attempt to invade Federation planets bordering the Neutral Zone, but . . ." He stopped pacing long enough to rub his forehead as he sensed the prelude to another headache. "But that's nothing new," he realized, resuming the nervous pacing. "Besides, that's what battle cruisers were designed for. Starships are supposed to be for exploration and contact; battle cruisers were built to deal with invasions and attacks." He managed a smile, an uneasy laugh. "General rumor also has it that three additional starships are being sent to this sector as a precautionary measure. And if that doesn't mean somebody's got their rocks in a grinder, then I don't know what to think." He took a deep breath. "But as usual with Command, they aren't being very generous with their information."

Spock was silent for a long moment. "And you stated that Starfleet has no precise knowledge of what the Romulans are planning?"

Kirk shrugged, threw up his hands, then forced himself to sit by the Vulcan's side. "All they know is that the Romulan Fleet appears to be converging near the border of the Zone. Our intelligence forces inside the Empire got wind of something concerning a time travel experiment which has been going on over there for quite a while; but according to Admiral Komack's last general transmission, we lost contact with the agents before they could relay the specifics." He grimaced. "I don't think we have to ask what happened to them."

Spock glanced away, confirming Kirk's suspicions; but the Vulcan changed the subject. "Do you believe the dreams could have something to do with events inside the Romulan Empire?" he asked.

Kirk felt something stir in his stomach.

"Since certain Romulans are telepathic," Spock continued, "do you believe it possible that your dreams could have resulted from a temporary psychic link to someone inside the Empire?"

Kirk's brows narrowed thoughtfully. A possibility, sure. But random speculation—rom Spock? "I dunno," he admitted. "Maybe I'm just getting paranoid in my old age." He laughed gently, trying to chase away the cold, black thing which seemed to be lingering at his shoulder. It had his own eyes, his features, his mind. But it felt alien.

As if sensing the thought, the Vulcan reached out tentatively, placing one hand on his captain's shoulder. Kirk was the only person on board to whom Spock could open up, and he valued that freedom. "If there are answers, we will find them, Jim," he ventured, eyeing Kirk more closely. "But . . . I believe it can wait until morning. You appear somewhat . . . fatigued?"

Kirk sighed and reached out to cover the Vulcan's hand with his own. Men like Spock weren't standard issue. "Thanks, Spock," he murmured. "I don't know what the hell I'd do without you." He stood slowly, and turned to go.

The Vulcan rose to follow his captain, taking a moment to appreciate the easy rapport which was always there between them. "No doubt you would win at chess, Captain," he suggested as they began walking back toward the entrance of the gardens.

Kirk laughed, then turned to glance at the "sky" when he noticed that nightfall had begun. Muted colors melted into the domed sky, and he allowed himself the luxury of inhaling the cool fresh air into his lungs and holding it there.

"It's almost like being home, Spock," he said. "No Romulans except in Dad's exaggerated space-gtales; no nightmares other than algebra . . ." He gave in to the fantasy for just a moment, then, recognizing the lethal danger of homesickness and melancholy, opened his eyes once again. "You know," he continued, "my father used to tell me that childhood itself was the only home a man could ever have." He laughed— somewhat nervously—and continued to look at the domed ceiling. For the briefest instant, he could almost envision cloudy dragons and white-fluffed unicorns.

Spock's eyes closed for just a moment. "Your father was, no doubt, a remarkable man, Captain," he replied after a long silence. His own father had rarely spoken of such matters— and never of the stars. He started to speak again, but stopped abruptly when Kirk shook his head with a smile.

"Don't worry, Spock," the human replied. "I don't expect an answer." He took one last look at the dome; it was almost "night" now, and soon the stars would be visible through the transparent ceiling. He turned toward the door, determined to leave the melancholy behind. "I don't regret any of it," he said. "And who knows? Maybe we'll be laughing about this whole thing in some Altairian cafe in another month." He turned to look at the impassive expression on his friend's face as the double doors opened into the main corridor of the ship. "Well, at least I'll be laughing," he corrected.

An eyebrow climbed under sleek black bangs as they stepped into the hall and resumed the correct routine. The masks of captain and first officer fell into place.

"I would not be adverse to spending some time on Altair, Captain," Spock said unexpectedly. "I am told that the museums and library facilities are excellent."

Kirk laughed as he drew up to a halt in front of the turbolift doors. "I didn't know Altair had museums and libraries, Mister Spock!"

–•–

Next time:

Our star-crossed lovers totally just friends are separated across time and space, oh noes!

See tag Killing Time Excerpts for more!

[knoxic]

I gotta be honest and say bucky in that post credit scene didn't do it for me as much as walkers little hat and slutty waist.

[eldritch-bf]

Killing Time // Della Van Hise

Spock said let him eat the food he likes damn it!!

[mimisuuo]

~~ did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd?

[gremlingirlsmell]

gremlin is starting to suspect that jeady disappeared because she was too fucking scared :(

[lichqueenlibrarian]

Unreasonably affected by McCoy’s fury at his own helplessness.

[maibel-mai]

Cuando no puedes comprarte un muñeco de moon te fabricas uno ahhdhfhf Xdd

[dduane]

Hi! As a longtime trek fan and author (Im ordering The Wounded Sky into my local library!), I wondered if you would know how or where one could get their hands on a copy, digital or otherwise, of the original misprint of the infamous "Killing Time" by Della Van Hise?

Regarding Killing Time: I had a quick look over at Ebay, and there seem to be pre-recall copies of it for sale over there. The prices vary from “um, okay” to “seriously, are you kidding?”.

Anyway, hope this helps! (And I hope you have fun with Sky.)

[facethemuses]

pennyworth series enjoyers (and others): by the end of s3 alfred had fucked no less than 2 heads of states for different countries (one of them being queen elizabeth)