#and my joining ao3 (and leaving the cursed home of ffnet lol)

[mejomonster]

I'm reading my old fic What Will They Find When I am Ripped apart:

1. I think I get now the ppl who say "u have a really noticeable authors voice" like I still don't Know what my voice is. But I can HEAR Jim's voice in the narration heavily in this. And its a bit of a mix with the rambling metas I'm sure you've seen out of me lmao. So that must be "it" somewhat. It's funny, I remembered the "rambling" that starts this fic quite negatively and wondered how people waded through it, but on reread now I realize it actually kicks into the start of the action within a few paragraphs. Its just here, like in most of my fic, I go into the character emotions/inner worlds every so often with the actions. That's where those delved in bits are after all. Which is probably also part of that "style" people pick up on

2. Lmao I put NERAIDIANS in the first chapter!! I can't believe it! I was sly and put my ocs in this fanfic as the aliens cause I needed aliens in the plot for some stuff. So I put in some of my faerie ocs from The Blank Files (which surprisingly were quite warmly received ppl wanted to know what was going on with their plots), and the fae were just absolutely being nuisances. I didn't realize I brought them up in chapter 1?!!! Chapter 1 was truly only intended to be porn but here I was putting in fucktons of plot because... I just cannot help myself. Is it even written by me if it's not bleeding plot and character study through every seam??

He looked up at Spock with eyes half lidded and let himself sound as emotional as the desires that now began drifting in his mind. “Stay, Spock.” He tugged lightly, no way he was going to affect his first officer’s stronger body unless Spock was letting him.

And how delicious it was, nerve endings lighting up with some fantastic surge of goodness, touching Spock skin to skin as Jim tugged him down until he was sitting stiffly next to him on top of the blanket, feigning reluctance -- Spock was sitting less than a foot away right now because he was purposely indulging Jim.

Mercifully and to his own controlled dismay, Jim lets his hand slide away from Spock and shifts to a more comfortable place by the pillows, half laying and half leaning on one arm as he regards his friend. “You’re tired too,” Jim states simply, like he’s discussing the facts regarding an upcoming mission. “You’ve been working double shifts making sure the Neraidan diplomats have been what they actually say they are.” He traces circles into the pillow beside him, with the fingers of his free hand, looking there instead of at Spock. Pretending there’s not an extra meticulous focus on his friend tonight, letting Spock relax and act like he’s not the full focus of Jim in this as any private instant between them.

Jim lets his words drift off, hoping Spock’s been reveling enough in mock non-attention from Jim to have lowered the tenseness he adopts when Jim tries some of his more obvious moves. He lets his eyes flicker back to Spock, who is indeed more loose and pliant now, casually considering the door like he’s going to let Jim mumble for a while and leave after his captain has fallen asleep.

Ha. Jim is nowhere near that incapacitated, as previously established. Poor, naive, raised a Vulcanly way darling. “Yeah, yeah, I know, rest,” Jim rambles, sure without a look or words from Spock that the guy was going to beat that dead argument in place of smothering Jim into the bed physically. And. Ah. One day… hopefully soon. Jim wouldn’t mind half as much if Spock made a habit of forcing him into bed that way instead. “You rest too, buddy. Here. My bed’s as good as yours.”

Spock’s looking his way again, mouth poised to bleat out some adorable monotone retort but Jim’s got an over exaggerated arm swinging into Spock’s shoulder as their eyes lock, and then he’s clumsily pulling Spock into bed next to him and pushing in messy gentle motions until Spock’s laying down next to him. Looking just shy of exasperated, a touch of fondness in the way his eyes light up as they melt into Jim’s, and the slightest tenseness of his brows like he’s beginning to suspect that Jim is just a smidge too coordinated to actually be inebriated.

But despite any suspicions Spock may have, he lets Jim push him down, even though the strength behind it is lacking considerably compared to Jim’s usual abilities. Positively soft, the way Jim is touching him now. Jim moves to much more forcefully yank the blanket out from under them and put it above them instead, and as he sees Spock push himself back up to sit -- but not bolt -- Jim decides to interpret it as a positive sign that Spock just might, potentially, be amenable to the next risky moves he wants to take.

Spock’s always been -- enigma isn’t the right word. Revelation isn’t either. Spock has always been… Spock. And Jim could probably live out the rest of his life, Spock at his side, and never stop being fascinated and enthralled and excited about him.