#at least McCoy got to age and live his life

[travellingtribble]

I'm in my feels thinking about how fucked up the TOS crew ended like

Kirk got stuck in the nexus from ~2293 to 2371 only to die again, for good, as soon as he got out? Come on. come on man.

Bones got old. like really old. and didn't get to see Kirk again??? It's been a while since I watched the TNG episode with McCoy, I don't remember what he says, but he was like 150 years old. Did he ever even see Kirk before he got stuck in the Nexus. Did he ever see Spock? (I'd hope so, Spock disappears years later, in Picard if I'm correct?)

Spock was... around doing Spock stuff. And then Kirk died and did Spock even know? did someone tell Spock that his literal soulmate died. twice. and then Spock got stuck in another universe, a reality slightly different from his own, where everyone is younger than him and Jim is not really Jim and he has his own Spock anyway and his planet is gone and he lived the rest of his days in the Kelvin timeline, alone.

And Scotty got stuck in a transporter buffer for 75 years. That's so long. They had to tell him Kirk was gone? (although, they were together when that happened, weren't they? they were on the Enterprise-B, technically Scotty knew that Kirk was "dead" didn't he? I guess spending 75 years stuck in a buffer mode will screw up your memory though.) Did he see Spock again? Did he see Bones again before either of them died?

Basically the only ones we didn't see explicitly (or implicitly) die or disappear of the OG crew are Uhura, Chekov and Sulu. Where were they? what were they doing? did they know about Kirk? about Scotty? about Spock?

Sorry but like. that is so fucked up. why does nobody talk about this!!!

[440mxs-wife]

Written in the Stars

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader. Other Characters: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura, Cmdr. Spock, Christine Chapel (mentioned).

Word Count: 8029

Warnings: Soulmates, show-level violence, Away Team member injury, mutual pining, a smidge of angst due to perceived unrequited love, but FLUFFFFF

Summary: When Dr. McCoy got married, he knew she wasn’t his soulmate, but it didn’t matter to him. After the divorce, he figures he’s missed his chance, due to his age and previous marriage. The Reader joins the crew as the new Science Officer aboard the Enterprise, assigned to Cmdr. Spock’s team. She hasn’t met her soulmate yet, but she seems drawn to a particular member of the Enterprise crew. Could these two lost soulmates have found each other at last?

A/N: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dr. Leonard McCoy joined StarFleet and was assigned to the Enterprise after a few unfortunate events. He left for the five-year mission right after his divorce, having known full well that the woman he married wasn't his soulmate. It didn't matter though, because Leonard didn't believe in that stuff. He was impatient, not interested in living alone anymore, therefore not waiting to find his soulmate. At the time, he'd loved Jocelyn enough to marry her. Only she didn't love him enough to want to stay married to him, or so she'd said.

Of course he had his soulmark, just like everyone he knew had one, with his shaped like a starburst and visible on his wrist. At his age, though, he felt that he should have met his person by now, the one he was destined to be with forever. So after the fiasco with Jocelyn, he'd stopped looking, figuring he'd missed his chance. Which is precisely when his soulmate appeared, and where he least expected it.

The Enterprise was making a scheduled stop at Starbase 42 to pick up supplies and some new crew members. Capt. Kirk had sent over the files, which Dr. McCoy decided to review before the ship reached its destination. Most of them looked pretty routine, a couple of ensigns for Engineering, three for Security. Then there was your file.

According to your bio, you were to be assigned to the Science Department, under Cmdr. Spock. You had been in StarFleet for a bit longer than the average crew member, and had risen to the rank of Lieutenant-Commander (LCmdr.). However, to Dr. McCoy, that only meant you carried a wealth of life experience with you. The only family you had left were your two brothers, each with their own families, and a best friend who became more like your sister.

Leonard glanced at the clock and noticed it was time to head to the transporter room to greet the new additions to the crew. Though the information in your file was fairly standard, Leonard couldn't help but give yours a bit more attention than the others. It was like he was drawn to it, wanting to dive into it and find out all there was to know about you. He arrived at the transporter room and walked in, finding Capt. Kirk and the other officers waiting. "All right, Jim. I'm here, so let's get this show on the road," he grumbled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the shimmering light-particles of the transport beam disappeared, you had re-materialized aboard the Enterprise. It was your dream assignment, to be on StarFleet's flagship, and you looked forward to working with Cmdr. Spock. And of course, you were excited to be serving with Capt. James T. Kirk, one of the most decorated and colorful captains in StarFleet. But almost as soon as you appeared on the pad, you felt a pull in another direction, something you hadn't experienced before.

Once everyone had arrived, the captain introduced himself and the other commanding officers. Your companions handed over their orders, then exited the transporter room to be shown to their quarters. You stepped forward and handed your paperwork to Capt. Kirk and introduced yourself in the process.

"At ease, Commander," Kirk smiled. "We're a little less formal and bit more family around here, not that I don't run a tight ship," he explained.

"Of course not, Captain, and thank you. I'm honored to be here," you responded.

"Your credentials are impressive, Commander," Spock commented. "I am looking forward to working with you."

"I'm fortunate to be on your team, Cmdr. Spock. Thank you," you acknowledged before turning your attention to the dark-haired man in the blue medical uniform. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. As you took in his appearance, his furrowed brow seemed to relax and you felt that same pull as when you first arrived.

Your silent observance of the man by the door did not escape Capt. Kirk's notice. He walked over to where the man was standing and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Commander, this is our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy. Bones, say hello to our newest crew member," Kirk grinned.

You stuck your hand out in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. McCoy," you remarked.

"Likewise," he replied as he took your hand and shook it. The instant your hand touched Dr. McCoy's hand, a jolt of electricity shot up your arm. It surprised you, but you kept your hand in his. What the hell was that? he thought. Instead, he inquired aloud, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, sure, everything's fine, Dr. McCoy. I'm kind of a little nervous. May I be shown to my quarters, please?" you asked.

"Right this way, Commander," Spock gestured with his arm for you to precede him out the door.

When you reached the doorway, you popped your head back inside and caught Dr. McCoy's attention. "By the way, hope to see you around, Dr. McCoy," you winked and left the transporter room.

"So, that was inter--" Kirk started.

"Jim, no comment necessary," McCoy muttered. Despite his gruff reply, there was the ghost of a smile on his face, thanks to the Enterprise's new science officer. Interesting indeed, he thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once inside your quarters, you started to unpack your bags. You hung up your uniforms in the closet and arranged your toiletries in the bathroom. The rest of your personal items were placed throughout your room. You were surveying your work when you heard a chime at the door.

Your visitor introduced herself as Nyota Uhura, Communications Officer. While you unpacked, she perched on the end of your bed and you got to know each other. She brought you up to speed on herself and life on the Enterprise.

The topic came around to your personal lives, Uhura mentioned that she and Cmdr. Spock discovered they were soulmates a few years ago. "What about you? Have you met your soulmate yet?" she asked.

"Sadly, no, not yet. But I hope my posting here will put me closer to finding out who it is," you replied, thinking back to your electrifying encounter with Dr. McCoy.

"Oh, really?" Uhura was leaning forward, her curiosity piqued. "Who do you think it is?" she wondered.

"Hmm, not sure, but I've been having this certain feeling, like whoever it may be, he's here onboard this ship. Add that to one of the many reasons I'm glad I'm here," you chuckled.

"Well, we're glad to have you. There's a 'Welcome to the Enterprise' party going on later in the recreation area. It's a chance for us to get to know you all, and for you to mingle with the senior officers," Uhura mentioned.

"Sounds great, I'll be there. Um, about what time?" you inquired.

"I believe the captain said it'll be getting started at 1900 hrs.," Uhura replied, then checked the time. "Oops, I'm supposed to be meeting Spock in a few minutes. See you later at the party?" she asked.

"You bet, I'll probably see if I can take a quick power nap before then. Want to be well-rested before meeting up with everyone so I don't say the wrong thing," you replied nervously.

"I understand that, but don't worry. Everything will be fine, and I already have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends," Uhura remarked as she walked to the door.

"Thank you, and I'll see you later," you called. Once Uhura left, you crawled into your bed and settled in for a nap. You made sure to set an alarm to give yourself time to get ready for the party, then closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back in his quarters, Dr. McCoy was reviewing some information on his PADD when his door chimed. At first, he ignored it, because he rarely had visitors and didn't want to be disturbed. When it chimed again, he rolled his eyes and strode to the door. He opened it, only to find Capt. Kirk on the other side, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want, Jim? I was in the middle of something important when you interrupted me," he bristled.

"Hey, Bones, good to see you," Kirk replied as he breezed past his friend and plopped into a chair.

"Make yourself at home, Jim, by all means," McCoy stated dryly. "Whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Wanted to drop by and let you know there's a 'Welcome to the Enterprise' party for all the senior officers to mingle with the newbies. Now I know none of them are medical, but it would be nice if you'd put in an appearance. By the way, that new one on Spock's team was pretty cute, wasn't she?" Kirk asked.

"Jim, I haven't got time for this. Besides, what are we, in high school?" McCoy retorted.

Kirk shrugged. "Looks like the two of you shared a moment in the transporter room, that's all," he remarked.

McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk's observation. "There was no 'moment', it was an introduction. Stop trying to make something out of nothing. Except it didn't feel like 'nothing' when our hands touched, he thought. "Look, I'll try to swing by, if I get a chance. Good enough?"

"That's the spirit, Bones! See you later," Kirk hastily replied, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder before bolting out of the room.

McCoy shook his head, then went back to where he'd left his PADD. He picked it up, intending to read, but instead stared off ahead, deep in thought. What would it hurt to show up for a drink or two? I suppose that would count as 'putting in an appearance', he reasoned with himself.

His mind made up, Leonard changed into a more casual attire of jeans with a hole in the right knee and a navy-blue Henley. He left the top two buttons undone and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. He slipped on his well-worn dark brown cowboy boots and dabbed on some cologne before heading out the door to the rec area.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You entered the rec area a little after 1900 hrs., when Uhura said the party would be starting. As soon as you walked in, your eyes scanned the area for her or anyone else you recognized. Fortunately, the captain soon spotted you and waved you over to his table.

On your way to meet him, you wandered past a beautiful mahogany pool table with clawfoot legs. It was covered in blue felt and had leather nets under each of the six pockets to catch any one of the fifteen brightly colored orbs. Hmm, wonder who might be up for a game or two later, you thought as you ran your hands along the rails.

There were two open chairs on the captain's left side, one putting you next to him or, the other, Lt. Uhura. You chose to sit next to Uhura, who immediately stood to give you a hug and raved about your outfit. You were wearing jeans with a pastel purple, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, along with your black suede ankle boots. Around your neck was a teardrop pendant of your birthstone on a delicate silver chain.

You were about halfway through your first margarita, when you heard a deep voice behind you ask, "Is this seat taken?"

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dr. McCoy standing behind you, a glass of bourbon in his hand. "Um, n-no, Dr. McCoy," you stammered. Way to go, you berated yourself with a mental facepalm.

"Relax, Commander," McCoy chuckled. "Please call me Leonard."

You gave him your name in return, stating it was better than being called "Commander" all the time. "Especially with so many of us around," you joked.

The captain finally noticed that Dr. McCoy had joined the table and taken the seat next to him. "Bones, you made it after all. Good to see you!" Capt. Kirk exclaimed.

"Why thank you, Jim, I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to notice," McCoy replied.

The doctor's nickname used by the captain did not escape your notice, but you filed it away to ask about later. "So, Leonard, tell me about where you're from," you started.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your conversation with Dr. McCoy stretched far into the evening, the two of you asking questions to better get to know each other. Eventually, your Q & A transitioned to the pool table for a friendly game of 8-ball. One by one, the others left the recreation area and returned to their quarters. Neither you nor Leonard noticed you were the only ones left until you were deep into your third game of pool, with you lining up your shot.

Standing up after watching the #15 roll into the corner pocket, you looked around at the empty recreation area. "Leonard, what time is it?" you asked.

He checked the time and was surprised at the hour as well as the deserted room. "It's after midnight. Guess time really does fly when you're having fun," he grinned. "Your shot, darlin'," he drawled. You noticed his Southern accent was a bit more pronounced after a few rounds of bourbon.

"Okay, but after I knock in this #12, I'm on the 8-ball," you smirked. You took your time to survey all the angles before settling in to take your shot. With a smooth, fluid stroke, the cue ball connected with the object ball, which went in the side pocket. The 8-ball was of little challenge to you as well, sailing into the exact pocket you intended.

"Well, I guess that's the game, then," McCoy remarked. You gave him a small curtsy before placing your cue stick on the table and returning to finish your drink. "Where'd you learn to play like that?" he wondered.

"Had a pool table in the basement growing up. I used to spend quite a few hours a day, practicing until I was good enough to win against my brothers and all their friends. Then I met my best friend at the Academy, and we took turns, um, how shall I say this? Oh, yeah. Separating the new recruits from their money," you grinned sheepishly.

Leonard threw his head back and laughed. "You are full of surprises. Which leads me to my next question, and feel free to punch me for it if you want, but I have to know. How is someone as lovely and fascinating as you are still single?"

You felt your cheeks grow warm with the compliment. "Well, I won't punch you for asking a question like that. The simple answer is, I haven't found my soulmate yet."

McCoy gave you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. "You believe in that? One person, one heart, all that?" he wondered.

"Sure I do, don't you?" you replied. "I mean, a person as handsome and charming as you isn't attached to anyone either. Why is that, if you don't mind me asking?" you quizzed.

"I don't mind you asking, darlin'," he replied, then took a sip of his drink. "I was married once, but it didn't take. At the time, I loved her, and even though she wasn't my soulmate, I didn't care. I was too impatient in my youth and didn't want to be alone the rest of my life, so we got married. When I came onboard here, I was fresh off my divorce. When I met Jim, I told him that my ex got everything, and 'all I got left is my bones'. Probably why he calls me that," he muttered.

"Hmm. And here I thought it was because you were in the medical field. You know, a doctor used to be called a 'sawbones', I figured that's where it came from," you quipped.

"I guess it could go either way, although your explanation is a little less depressing," Leonard conceded.

You reached over and covered his hand with yours, trying to ignore the small spark at the contact. "Your soulmate is still out there, waiting to be found. I'm just sure of it," you remarked.

McCoy gave you a hopeful smile. "You think so? I guess I figured that with my age and jumping the gun and marrying Jocelyn, that I missed my chance," he replied.

"What do you mean, 'with my age', you're hardly an old man, Leonard. Besides, I'm betting that you haven't missed your chance, so keep the faith," you winked. "Come on, Doc, it's late. Walk me to my quarters?" you asked.

McCoy drained the last of the bourbon from his glass and stood up from the table. His grin grew wider as he held out his elbow for you to take. "Shall we, shweethahrt?" he said in his attempt at a Bogart impression.

You laughed as you looped your arm through his, and he tucked it in closed to his side. "Leonard, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," you answered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And it was. At first it was you and Dr. McCoy, two friends sharing breakfast together on most, if not all, mornings. Sometimes the captain, or Spock and Uhura would be there, which made for lively discussions. But you were most content with the days it was just you and the good doctor enjoying each other's company.

It wasn't just the mornings, you took turns hanging out in each other's quarters, watching old movies or reading together. Other times, it was sharing stories about your lives, your families, even your Academy days. Being with Leonard was a comfort for you, a natural and easy friendship to fall into.

The first time you noticed your thoughts wandering from friendship to more was one night you were cooking dinner in McCoy's quarters. Your room was not equipped with a kitchenette, only a replicator, so Leonard offered to let you in to his to make dinner. He had some last-minute duties in the MedBay, but said he would join you later.

You were putting the finishing touches on your Cheesy Chicken and Broccoli casserole to put into the oven, when Leonard strode through the door. He stood behind you, put his hands on your shoulders and glanced down at the dish. "That looks amazing, sweetheart," he grinned and gave your shoulders a squeeze before heading to the showers.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but notice how domestic the whole scene was, and how comfortable it all felt. Leonard coming home to you after a difficult day in the MedBay, to see you making dinner. Of course, it could also just as easily be the other way around, with him in the kitchen, waiting for you to come home. Then you shook your head to clear those thoughts. Although the two of you had become best friends, that still kept you in the "friend zone", right?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Leonard reached for his towel to dry himself off after his shower. Coming back to his quarters to see you in his kitchen was a comforting sight to see, not to mention how natural it felt. Like it had been that way for years instead of the months since you'd gotten to know each other. Lately, there was many a night he'd lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you were having as much trouble sleeping as he was.

Ever since he met you in the transporter room, Leonard knew there was something different about you, but couldn't put his finger on it. That night the two of you spent in the rec area at Jim's "welcome" party was one of the best he'd had in a long time. Sitting and talking with someone, finding out you had like interests and similar values was refreshing for him. You were sweet, intelligent, and you made him laugh, something his friends thought he needed more of in his life.

Most of his time was spent in the MedBay, caring for others, but there were times when he wanted someone to care for him. You certainly fit the bill for that as well, such as when you stopped by with a coffee for him on one of your breaks. Or when you sneaked into his office to hide scraps of paper with jokes written on them to make him chuckle. And your home cooking was some of the best he'd had since the last time he visited his ma on Earth.

There were dozens of reasons why and multiple occasions when he wished there was more than friendship between you. However, after his experience with marriage to Jocelyn, he was a little hesitant to pursue anything beyond friendship with you. Jim would probably say he was "spooked", whereas Leonard would counter that he was "protecting his heart".

Early on, you'd admitted to him that you believed in soulmates and were still looking for yours. He'd been down the road once where he ignored the concept, if only to avoid being alone for the rest of his life. You deserved that one person, that one heart that Fate had decided truly belonged with you. He'd never want you to settle for a life with him if he wasn't your soulmate. Thus, he continued to keep things with you in the "friend zone".

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of weeks later

"You want me to do what, now?" you asked the Captain.

"I know you heard me, Commander," Kirk replied. "It's a few weeks until Valentine's Day, and I think it would be a great idea to have a celebration. Music, food, drinks....and you dancing with a certain country doctor would certainly be all the entertainment I'd need for a while," he smirked.

You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes at his obvious matchmaking attempts. "Jim, we're just friends. And I resent your insinuation that Dr. McCoy would want anything to do with me beyond that," you retorted.

"Why is that so hard to believe, that Bones would be interested in you as more than a friend?" Jim persisted.

"Because...." you murmured, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

"'Because....' why?" he gently prodded.

You huffed in exasperation. "Because I'm me, and he's....handsome, witty, fascinating, charismatic and could have any woman in the universe he wants. I've seen him at those diplomatic functions, Jim. Women more or less throwing themselves at him, hanging all over him and what does he do? He just smiles at them and turns on the Southern charm. Soulmate or not, what chance do I have," you whispered.

"Wait, he's your soulmate? How do you know? More importantly, why haven't you told him?" Kirk peppered you with questions.

"You're just full of curiosity today, aren't you?" you sassed. "I saw his soulmark on his wrist, and it matches mine here." You tilted your head and pulled your hair back to reveal a matching starburst behind your left ear. "I've been in love with him since that 'welcome' thing you arranged, when we talked and shot rack after rack of 8-ball till after midnight. But I want him to love me for me, not due to some pre-destined, matching tattoo on our bodies."

Kirk stepped out from behind his desk and took the chair next to you. "Listen. I've been friends with the man for a long time. I've seen him at those diplomatic galas, and let me tell you that I haven't seen him look at any of those women the way he looks at you," he explained.

"Now I know you're out of your mind," you snorted. When Kirk tried to protest, you held up your hands. "Stop. Okay? I'll do as you ask, plan your little Valentine's Day party for the crew. It's a nice idea, and I think we're due for some fun around here. Just please quit trying to push me and Dr. McCoy together, huh?" you pleaded.

Kirk reached over and sandwiched your hand in his. "Although I know I'm right, I will honor your wishes and stop forcing the issue with you and Bones. Fair enough?" he asked.

You nodded and stood up from your chair. "Yes, thank you, Jim. I appreciate it. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my quarters, trying to figure out how to put this thing together," you replied. You gave him a weary smile before exiting his Ready Room.

Jim waited until you were out of his office before voicing his thoughts. "I may have agreed to honor your wishes, but that doesn't mean I can't go at it from Bones' point of view," he vowed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following week, you were busy transforming one of the large, rarely-used conference rooms Jim set aside for you into a sea of red, white and pink. There were pink paper hearts attached to the walls, along with red cutouts shaped like Cupid with his bow. The long conference tables would be used for food and drinks, and were set up along the outside edge of the room.

You were scanning through the food and drink list on your PADD when Leonard walked in. A bright smile graced your face at the sight of your best friend. "Why, hello Len! What brings you here?"

Leonard scanned the room before answering. "So this is the 'secret project' you've been working on for the past week," he replied. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I started in the lab, then I checked your room. Had to ask the ship's computer for your location," he remarked.

"Yeah, sorry, Jim put me in charge of this, so here I am. And it's not a 'secret project', as you called it. We have all these decorations and the tables will be full of drinks and all kinds of foods," you explained. "While we're on the subject, I have something to ask you, Leonard."

"Oh? What's that?" he wondered.

"Well, this is going to be kind of a formal, dressing-up kind of thing. And there'll be music and dancing, so I was wondering....if you'd like to go with me....as my date?" you asked.

Leonard froze. A date? he thought. His heart wanted very much to take you up on your offer to accompany you to the party. He could picture you all dressed up in a formal gown and your hair perfectly styled, a veritable vision of beauty. His next mental picture was of the two of you walking into the party with your arm safely tucked into his side. His brain, however, reminded him that this was a Valentine's Day dance, and you two were not romantic partners, only friends.

You must have heard his brain's internal reminder loud and clear and interpreted his hesitation as a decline of your invitation. "You know what, never mind. It's all right. Forget I asked," you backpedaled. "I'm sure you have much more important things to do than go to a stupid dance with me," you muttered as you gathered your PADD and other supplies.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?" McCoy implored.

"Uh, I forgot I told Cmdr. Spock that I would come into the lab later and see if I can make some more progress on my assignment," you explained. "So, I'm sorry, but I can't meet you for dinner tonight, Dr. McCoy," you added, then hurriedly left the room without a backwards glance.

Leonard stood gazing at the floor, hands on his hips and shaking his head. As he stood in place, he was trying to figure out what just happened and how he knew he had to fix it. Uhura was watching your interaction with Dr. McCoy since he joined you, so she walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Dr. McCoy, are you all right?" she asked.

He looked over to see the concern in Uhura's eyes. "I....I don't know," he rasped. "I think I made a huge mistake with her and I may need your help."

She led him over to one of the chairs, where he filled her in on his conversation with you. Uhura listened intently, waiting for him to finish providing as much information as he was willing to share. When he finished, she was silent as she thought about her response. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to your mind." McCoy nodded. "Are you in love with her?"

"Yes," he immediately answered.

"As a friend, or more than a friend?" Uhura asked.

"More," McCoy hastily replied. A startled look crossed his face at the realization. "I'm in love with her," he whispered. "But she said she was still looking for her soulmate, and I don't know what her soulmark looks like or where it is."

"Dr. McCoy," Uhura gently chided. "Do you really need visual confirmation of her soulmark to know that you belong together? From that first night, everyone could see it, based on how the two of you looked at each other, how you interacted. How long did it take you to realize that everyone had left?" she giggled.

McCoy grinned. "We didn't really notice much of anything outside of ourselves until after midnight. She'd just beaten me two games out of three at 8-ball," he chuckled ruefully. "I have to find her and tell her," he declared as he hastily stood up.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. I don't know if now is the best time to tell her," Uhura warned, taking his arm to stop him.

"Wha--why shouldn't I tell her right away how I feel about her?" McCoy asked, confused.

"She may not be in the right frame of mind to hear it right now. Think about, Dr. McCoy. She gathered up her courage to ask you to be her date to the dance. When you hesitated to answer, her brain told her not only was your answer 'no', but that you didn't reciprocate her feelings. That's why she bolted out of here, she was trying to protect herself from embarrassment, from her heart being broken any further. Give her some time, then try and talk with her again," Uhura advised.

"How long should I give her?" McCoy asked.

"Try again after a couple of days, Doctor. She should be ready to talk by then," Uhura replied, gently patting his arm.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You checked your notes again, frustrated that the data was not matching up with the results. Irritated, you pushed away from the table and flopped onto a chair. You closed your eyes as your fingers massaged your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?" Cmdr. Spock asked. "It is late, and I have observed that your evenings are usually spent with Dr. McCoy. May I ask why you are here instead, working?"

You took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Cmdr. Spock. Just trying to keep my headache at bay, that's all," you replied, managing a weak smile.

"If you are feeling a pain in your head, I am certain Dr. McCoy can relieve it with a hypospray," Spock suggested.

"Not when he's the cause of the headache," you muttered.

A puzzled look crossed Spock's face. "I do not understand. Is there some sort of problem in your relationship with Dr. McCoy?" he inquired.

You took a deep breath before explaining the events of the afternoon, beginning with Capt. Kirk's assignment of the Valentine's dance. Then you told him about asking Leonard to be your date for the dance, and how mortified you were when he declined your request. "The only relationship I have with Dr. McCoy is one of friendship. Though my feelings for him have gone beyond the friend level, I should have known better that his do not, and likely never will."

"To assume that Dr. McCoy does not think of you as more than a friend without his express verbal confirmation is not logical," Spock replied. "You must ask him how he feels about you."

"Since when are the human heart's desires logical? Anyway, I'm sure I've already embarrassed myself enough for one day. Permission to return to my quarters?" you asked.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant. I sincerely hope that your personal difficulties with Dr. McCoy will soon be resolved," Spock offered. "It is also not logical for two people as compatible as the two of you to be separated."

"Thank you, Commander," you remarked. "For your counsel and your understanding." You gave him a small smile, then left the lab.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had almost reached your quarters when the captain requested you to come to his Ready Room. "On my way, Captain," you replied, tapping your communication badge. In your head you grumbled that you hoped his request had something to do with real work and nothing to do with Dr. McCoy.

In the captain's office, you were briefed on an upcoming Away mission, in which you would play a part. A fairly routine mission, you were tasked with gathering soil and mineral samples that would be catalogued upon returning to the Enterprise.

The area where your team would be working had been declared as deserted. That meant you would not be at risk of encountering any difficulties from any local inhabitants of the planet. All in all, a good mission to help me gain experience as part of an Away Team, you thought as you stepped onto the transporter pad.

You also hoped that going on this mission would also help you sort out your feelings about Leonard and figure out your next move. As much as you didn't want to, you were going to have to distance yourself from him. It'll only be for a couple of days, you reasoned. When I get back, Len and I should probably have a talk about what happened and what it means for us going forward. Decision made, you picked up your PADD and reviewed the parameters of the Away mission.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For the past two days, the MedBay environment was not the most pleasant place to be. Dr. McCoy had been more demanding and grumpier than usual. His staff had no idea that his thoughts revolved around you and how badly he needed to talk to you. He was trying to do as Uhura suggested, by giving you time to yourself. When he could no longer wait to speak to you and confess his feelings, he put Dr. M'Benga in charge and left the MedBay to find you.

He checked your quarters first, but when there was no answer, he figured either you weren't there, or you knew it was him and didn't want to answer. He left and headed down to the conference room, but no one there had seen you for the past couple of days. Finally, he tried the lab, praying to find you there. When he asked Spock where you were, nothing could've prepared him for the answer he received.

"What do you mean, she's on the Away Team?" McCoy demanded.

"I should think my response is fairly self-explanatory, Doctor," Spock replied.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "She's not ready for an Away mission yet, anything could go wrong down there!" he exclaimed.

"On the contrary, the Commander has proven to be more than competent in performing her duties. The captain and I felt that this relatively low-risk mission was the perfect one to introduce her to this aspect of her duties," Spock explained.

"Since when does something deemed 'low-risk' ever turn out that way? You don't understand, Spock, I can't lose her," McCoy implored. "Not before I've had a chance to tell her I love her," he whispered.

A faint smile graced Spock's features. "It appears I was correct in my theory regarding your feelings towards her," he answered. His tone that could almost be considered smug, if not for the fact that he was half-Vulcan. At the confused look on Leonard's face, Spock relayed the conversation the two of you had after he'd found you in the lab working.

"So she cares about me like I care about her," McCoy murmured. "What time are they scheduled to be back? I have to be there right when she gets back so I can tell her how I feel. I've already wasted too much time," he muttered, then jumped up from his chair. Before he could walk out of the lab, Capt. Kirk was at the door.

"Good, you're both here. The Away Team is returning to the ship ahead of schedule. It appears that they ran into some problems on the planet's surface. Something about a run-in with a band of native inhabitants," Kirk explained. "Possible weapons discharges and there may be injuries," he reluctantly revealed.

"StarFleet's report stated that the area in which the Away Team would be working was declared as deserted," Spock pointed out. "There should have been no reason for any discharge of weapons."

"You see?? This is exactly what I was talking about, Spock!" McCoy exclaimed, his arms waving in the air. "How could you send her down there, Jim? She's not ready for something like this," McCoy snapped.

"I chose the team based on their skills and how it matched the intel we were given. Do you really believe I like putting people I care about in harm's way??" Kirk retorted sharply. "I have a job to do, but so do the two of you. And right now, the Away Team is depending on you to carry out those duties to the best of your ability. The personal stuff can be sorted out later, all right?" Kirk barked. "For now, let's just get everyone home and safe."

Spock and McCoy nodded and each of them went their separate ways to begin assisting in the missions aftermath. Kirk was on his way back to the bridge, while Spock was gathering his equipment. "Captain?" McCoy called out before Kirk had fully exited the lab.

"What is it, Bones?" Kirk asked wearily.

McCoy walked over to join his captain at the door. "I'll be in the MedBay, standing by for any casualties," he replied, then started down the hall.

"Thank you, Doctor. And Bones?" Kirk added, causing McCoy to turn and catch Kirk's gaze. "She'll be all right. Besides, you probably owe her a dance, right?" he smirked.

"Among other things, Jim," McCoy admitted before finally resuming his path to the MedBay.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When McCoy returned to the MedBay, it was a flurry of activity. The casualties had already arrived, only three of whom were being worked on by multiple teams. Head Nurse Christine Chapel met him near the entrance to give him a PADD with a rundown of the injuries. He had just started scanning the list when he heard, "DOCTOR!! Dr. McCoy, we need you over here!!"

McCoy all but sprinted to BioBed #3 and was shocked at the sight before him. You were the injured party, with a stab wound to your left shoulder that had seemed to stop bleeding. There was a moderate head laceration near your hairline, but its bleeding also looked to be under control. However, it was the 6-inch gash across your stomach that was of utmost concern, because it was still steadily leaking blood.

"Oh darlin'," McCoy whispered as he pushed your hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"Hey, Dr. McCoy," you rasped, which sent you into a minor coughing fit.

"Shh, take it easy, sugar. We're going to take good care of you, get you all patched up good as new," he soothed.

"Len....'m sorry....about earlier," you wheezed but were thrown into another coughing session. "Ow, it hurts," you whimpered.

"Hold on, sweetheart, I'll get ya something to take away the hurt," McCoy promised. One of the nurses promptly handed him the hypospray containing the pain med. Leonard gently rolled your head to the side for better access to your neck. He pushed your hair out of the way and pressed the hypospray to your skin and delivered the pain medication.

When McCoy withdrew the instrument, he was startled when he saw your soulmark behind your left ear, a starburst that matched the mark on his wrist. It was you. You were his soulmate, the one he should've waited for and he was the one you were waiting for. As he stood next to you, he felt the bond between you grow, as it sent a wave of warmth through his body.

You somehow found his hand and took it in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before dropping it. The movement and seeing your hand hang limply at your side was enough to snap Leonard back into action and tend to your injuries. "All right, let's get this bleeding stopped so we can close up this gash and clean up these other wounds," McCoy ordered, getting back to the task at hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For some reason, you couldn't move your right hand due to some sort of weight on top of it. You were having a hard time opening your eyes as well, though you did manage to crack them open halfway. There was an IV in your left arm and as for your right side, you smiled when you saw a familiar crop of dark hair. Leonard was hunched over the edge of your bed, his head resting on his elbows and covering your hand. You could only imagine how tired he must be after the events of the past few hours.

The Away mission was your first since you came aboard the Enterprise, and not exactly the low-risk scenario as mentioned in the file. The briefing said the area had been declared uninhabited, but the natives you encountered proved otherwise. Some of their weapons were rudimentary by StarFleet's standards, while others looked confiscated from other unsuspecting visitors.

You were the first to be attacked, by a stab to your left shoulder and blow to the head, then all hell broke loose. The wound in your midsection was caused when you stepped in to defend a fellow crew member. You were relieved when you saw the familiar surroundings of the MedBay, and even more relaxed when Leonard's face appeared. However, you'd have given anything to take away the pain and worry you saw in his eyes as he hovered above you, assessing your injuries.

Gingerly, you felt around on the bed for the call button, not wanting to disturb the doctor sleeping at your side. Your slight movement caused him to lift his head and for his eyes to immediately zero in on yours. A sleepy yet relieved smile graced his face as he slowly reached up with his right hand to cup your cheek. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," you whispered back. "How long have I been out?"

"About twelve hours," he answered. "You had me worried there, sweetheart," he murmured. "I thought I wasn't going to get the chance to tell you something very important."

"I'm here now, though. What is it you wanted to tell me?" you asked. You shuffled around in your bed, trying to raise yourself to a more upright position. Leonard saw what you were doing and helped to rearrange the pillows and angle of the bed to where you wanted it.

Leonard returned in his chair and pointed it so that he was gazing directly at you. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Ever since Jim handed me your file, I knew there was something special about you. I felt it when we shook hands in that transporter room, and I think you felt it too," he replied.

You nodded. "Felt like electricity shooting up my arm," you smiled.

"Exactly. The more I got to know you through the time we spent together, the more I believed in the idea of a soulmate. I only dared to hope you were mine. I saw the mark behind your ear, so now I know you that are the one I belong with in this life. Even without that, darlin', I fell for you anyway. Your kindness, generosity, your gentle spirit and so many more reasons are why I love you," Leonard remarked.

You could've been knocked back unconscious with a feather. Of all things you thought would happen when you woke up, a love confession from Leonard wasn't anywhere near the list. Although it made you happy to hear that he loved you in return, there was also a part of you that was having doubts.

Leonard mentioned that he'd seen your soulmark, and that he'd fallen for you anyway. Jim knew about the matching marks, and how you wanted Leonard to love you for who you were, not some cosmic tattoo. You'd put your heart on the line once when you asked him to the dance, and it didn't end well. Did you dare take that kind of chance again?

"Sweetheart, please say something," he implored hoarsely.

"Guess this means you owe me a dance?" you replied with a watery smile, as you decided to take the leap. "Len, of course I love you, and not because of some mark put on us by Fate. You are the one I've been searching for, and you're well worth waiting for."

That was all the confirmation Leonard needed, and more. He stood up from his chair and walked around to the left side of your bed. You scooted over a bit to leave room for him to sit on the edge of your mattress. Leonard placed a hand on either side of your face and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. As his left thumb gently caressed your cheek, you latched your hands to his wrists, with your finger tracing over his soulmark.

Leonard leaned his head towards you, tenderly brushing his lips over yours at first, then returning with more passion. His soft yet insistent lips moved with determination, expressing the depth of his emotions for you. When he nipped at your bottom lip, you gasped in surprise, creating the perfect opening for him to slip his tongue in to explore your mouth. Your sweet sound of pleasure that escaped seemed only to spur him on.

The kiss broke before the alarms could be set off on the BioBed for your elevated heart rate or any other escalated vital signs. Leonard leaned back slightly to give himself and you a chance to catch your breaths. He gingerly brushed the hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "So beautiful," he whispered.

"And all yours," you whispered back. Your hand drifted up for your fingers to run through his dark locks, your nails scratching his scalp. The gesture earned you a deep sigh from him and he closed his eyes in contentment. "Have been for a while now, you know," you added. "I love you, Leonard McCoy."

Leonard opened his eyes and smiled softly. "And I'm all yours, my body and soul belongs to you. I love you too, sweetheart," he remarked as he touched his forehead to yours.

The two of you stayed like that, holding each other, until the sound of a throat being cleared broke the silence. Leonard turned his head slightly then rolled his eyes at seeing Capt. Kirk and Cmdr. Spock. The captain wore a look of smug satisfaction at seeing his two friends finally getting together. On the other hand, Spock's face held a look of concern about your recovery from your injuries.

"Guess you can't outrun Fate, can you, Bones?" Kirk crowed. "Seriously, though. I'm happy for you two," he winked.

Spock turned to you. "It would seem that you have received sufficient confirmation of Dr. McCoy's feelings towards you, correct?" he asked.

"Complete confirmation, Spock," you answered. "Did you come to gloat too, or was there something else you needed?" you inquired.

"Vulcans do not gloat. I am merely checking up on the health of one of my team members. It is fortunate that Dr. McCoy was able to successfully treat your injuries and put you on the road to recovery," Spock observed.

"Fortunate indeed," you concurred. Off to the side, you spied Uhura making her way to your bedside under what looked like quite a head of steam.

"I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you're down here causing trouble. Hi there honey, Dr. McCoy," Uhura greeted you and Leonard. Her words to you and Leonard were in direct contrast to those she aimed at Kirk and Spock. "All right, these two need their rest, so off you go. Bye sweetie," she winked. After your friends exited the MedBay, you and Dr. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Never want to be on her bad side," Leonard quipped. "Alone at last," he murmured, brushing the back of his knuckles on your cheek.

"Just the two of us now," you replied. You shuffled over further in your bed to make room for Leonard. He settled in next to you, curling his arm around you and guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. You slung your arm around his midsection and snuggled into his warm embrace. "Sweet dreams, Len. I love you," you mumbled.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered, kissing your temple and closing his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hailbop1701 @writercole @lassie-bird @huffle-pissed @phoenixisred @wayward-dreamer @erindiggory @strangesgirl @dumpsterhippie @genevablog26 @lokis-deares @medicatemedrmccoy​

[silverfoxstole]

Paul McGann: The latest twist in his tale

He's spent his career thinking on his feet, so it made sense to improvise his latest role, he tells James Mottram

Published: 20 October 2006 in The Independent

Every autumn, Paul McGann is given an annual reminder of his greatest role. Living in a university town like Bristol, "you can set your calendar by it," he says. "The new student intake has just come in, and they've drunk their first grant cheque and seen Withnail and I... and I know when they've seen it. They usually holler across the street." While Richard E Grant's flamboyant drunk Withnail was the character blessed with the lion's share of memorable quotes, McGann's more introspective "I" still had his moments. He grins at a recent reminder. "The other day, some kid had chalked on the pavement outside my house, 'Perfumed Ponce', with an arrow pointing to my front door!"

Now 46, it's refreshing to see McGann is not precious about the fact that his finest hour has just been commemorated this month with a 20th anniversary DVD. "It's actually very satisfying," he admits. "I can safely say, 'If I'd never done another movie, it would've been all right.'" Still handsome, with his Byronic brown curls, there's a sense of genuine gratitude in his soft Scouse accent. The son of a factory worker and a nursery school teacher, perhaps it's in the knowledge that a working-class childhood in Liverpool does not always lead to such a grand career as acting. The Catholic-raised McGann knows he's been fortunate: accepted into Rada, he got his big break in 1982 alongside his three brothers - Joe, Mark and Stephen - in the West End rock'n'roll musical Yakkety Yak.

"We all wanted to be movie stars," he recalls of his youthful days. "When I was a kid, about 11 or 12, we used to try and bunk into local cinemas to see X movies. Who doesn't do that at that age? This would've been 1972. Maybe an older kid would buy a ticket, then go and open the fire door and we'd watch this film until we were all thrown out. You'd see some hammy old thing, but now and again you'd see a great film - like Klute or Five Easy Pieces. I remember watching Jack Nicholson, maybe not understanding what he's up to but thinking I'd love to do that. He was engaging, charismatic - I was rapt!"

McGann was never going to be the next Nicholson, even if winning the lead in Alan Bleasdale's 1986 BBC drama The Monocled Mutineer boosted his profile. Unlike Grant, he never really made it in Hollywood. "What do they say? It's better to regret the things you have done than the things you haven't," he notes. When he did get cast in major productions, he spent most of his time on the cutting room floor. Almost entirely excised from Steven Spielberg's Empire of the Sun, he saw his part for David Fincher's Alien3 truncated to an almost unintelligible degree and then he was unfortunate enough to appear in Queen of the Damned, the ill-fated follow-up to Interview with a Vampire. "Careers are what they are," he shrugs. "They don't make any sense at all when you look back. We're not in charge of them."

Fate certainly seems to have had a hand in McGann's CV. A knee injury in 1994 forced him to cede the lead in ITV's Sharpe to Sean Bean. Two years later came his one-off turn as Doctor Who, following on from Sylvester McCoy in a US pilot that was set to resurrect the series but ultimately never picked up because the ratings weren't high enough. "We made a pilot that didn't work," he says. "And it didn't work because it wasn't good enough." But given the success of the current revamped show, does he have regrets that he's likely to be remembered - in his own words - as the "George Lazenby of Doctor Who"? "It's impossible to regret. It could've been very different. I would've been there for five or six years... and I'd have earned a shit-load of dough. Life wouldn't have been the same but it didn't happen."

If there's a suspicion that McGann is not ruthless enough to play the Hollywood game, not least because Withnail and I anointed him with a cuddly image, he has set about changing that with his latest film, Gypo. An entirely improvised piece about immigration, he plays Paul, a racist father-of-three living in Margate. Trapped in a loveless marriage, Paul is the vilest character of McGann's career, beginning the film by violently objecting to his daughter bringing home a classmate who, it emerges, is a Romany Czech refugee. "I had to be prepared for him to be irredeemable," says McGann. "He is unremittingly miserable."

Fed on a diet of tabloids and Talk Sport, McGann says his character belongs with the "huge majority of these little Englanders with their easy assumptions. At one point, he talks about Africa being a big county - that's about the level of him." He adds that he didn't want to make him like some "Alf Garnett cartoon" and he doesn't - though he confesses to the fact that director Jan Dunn only came to the set with "broad notions" for the scenes. The rest was up to him. "There wasn't a script to discuss," he says. "That brought me out in a rash, to be honest. That was one of the reasons I thought I had to do this. I couldn't think of any proper, intelligent excuse to turn this kind of challenge down."

Telling the same basic story from three separate perspectives, Gypo is officially the first British film to be registered as a Dogme movie. Given that this manifesto, devised by the Danish director Lars von Trier to purify the film-making process by using only original locations, natural light and so on, is over a decade old, it might seem rather after the fact. McGann nods. "I entered it with a mixture of open-mindedness and healthy cynicism. I mean, they're having us on aren't they? Some of that stuff... c'mon! The more dubious claims for the process about truth and nebulous ideas about authenticity. I mean, what's that about? Films are artifice. We're telling stories on film. At the same time, when it works, there is a real tough immediacy and spontaneity to it, and a punch."

Both frank and funny, McGann is the perfect pub-mate - not least because he is so self-deprecating. Noting that his short-lived time playing Doctor Who has nevertheless given him a place in the show's pantheon, he recalls meeting legendary Time Lord Tom Baker. "We were in opposite voice over studios," he says. "This guy in the sound studio told me he was in, so I went and met him. He didn't have a clue who I was! I found it rather refreshing. He was very charming. He just thought I was some kid off the street. So I thought, 'Let's just leave it at that.'"

Yet as chummy as McGann is, it's doubtful if he'd ever fully open up - at least in interview. Dubbing himself "a miserable bastard at the best of times", laying bare his soul is unlikely to make him happy. Of his brothers, he says, "We get on OK. We get on fine." The last time he worked with them was in 1995's Irish famine saga The Hanging Gale, which the quartet conceived themselves. "The biggest obstacle is getting us all together," he grunts, when asked if he'd consider working with them again. He's better on his sons: 17-year-old Joseph is musically gifted, "one of those swines that can play any instrument", while 15-year-old Jake "has been making funny noises" about following his father into acting.

Such reticence can be easily traced back to the mid-1990s, when McGann had his one uncomfortable brush with the limelight. Caught in the street kissing Catherine Zeta-Jones, his co-star from period piece Catherine the Great, by a photographer, it caused a minor scandal and the press descended upon him and his family. While Joseph and Jake "were really spooked by it" - to the point that they now hate having their photograph taken - McGann admits the gossip "rattled" his relationship with his wife Annie, a former assistant stage manager turned interior designer. "I felt like a kid who was being bullied," reflects McGann.

Since Gypo, McGann has done what he's always done, and worked steadily. He recently completed the lead in Poppies, a film about a playwright who becomes obsessed with the fact his grandfather and two great uncles were killed in the Battle of the Somme that will receive its premiere in November at the Imperial War Museum. And he is currently filming a short produced by Zoë Ball entitled Always Crashing In The Same Car, reuniting with Grant for the first time since Withnail and I. "It's good when we're together," says McGann. "We're still mates. Our kids know each other. Very occasionally we're together in the same place - and then it's difficult to pay for a drink. I like that."

'Gypo' opens today

[lenievi]

For the random character asks: 1, 30, and 37? Dealer's choice of character ;)

I initially wanted to answer each one for a different character, but it became just Kirk...

1. Canon I outright reject I'm someone who follows canon (sometimes to my own detriment, especially when it comes to fics lol), so I typically am able to reconcile pretty much anything (even things I initially had an ugh reaction about).

When it comes to Kirk, I reject the entirety of Requiem for Methuselah though – I haven't seen it since 2020, but accepting that Kirk would just flirt and fall in love with a woman when his entire crew was dying is absolutely wild to me. So… the episode just doesn't exist for me, and I take nothing from it into consideration. I know that I should rewatch it now when time passed (and I also have a different understanding of the characters), and even if I ended up changing my mind, just knowing that the episode ends with Spock manipulating Kirk's memories and feelings is so offputting to me (or rather knowing that a lot of people romanticize the moment and villainize McCoy…)

ETA: I know what the ending scene was going for with its "If only I could forget." "I wish he could forget her." "Forget." (and I do kind of enjoy the idea that McCoy can manipulate Spock - but that's not the popular reading of the scene), I just dislike Spock erasing Kirk's memory and people seeing it as positive or proof of "love", rather than something really messed up on Spock's part, something Kirk would hate being done to him without his knowledge. If I didn't know what the fandom thinks about this episode, it might be better.

30. Sleeping habits It's really hard to keep a schedule on a starship, especially when you're a captain. Typically, when everything is calm, Kirk makes sure to be in his room by ten o’clock. He takes a shower, takes care of stuff, reads a book for thirty minutes, and goes to sleep. Never after eleven, if he can help it. (Because he likes to get up early.)

When things aren’t calm, he just steals an hour or two whenever he can, to hide in his room and at least rest if not sleep.

37. What they really think about themselves hmmmm I think Kirk in his early 30s was very insecure about his age, because he felt he was too young and many people he served with were around the same as him (or even older), and he could sometimes feel like he didn’t have their complete trust. His insecurities made him put up a front, which then put a distance between himself and his crew (and it got a bit worse after he killed Gary), and he believed that was for the best.

He believed that he always needed to be in control, he needed to be able to make a difference, to show everyone that he was worth it, that his life wouldn’t be wasted, and that he deserved to live when others died (because of him). He thought he didn’t deserve his own life, only the life dictated to him by the Enterprise...

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

on hands and knees

(A/N: I have been planning a Bucky longfic off and on for two years. Idk if it will EVER be written or posted, but this is a little drabble. Inspired by Hozier's "Work Song.")

Summary: Bucky thinks of her and her God in the cavernous silence of war.

Sweetheart,

If I close my eyes and think about it hard enough, I can imagine that I’m back home, lying in bed with you next to me, looking so pretty that I don’t know what to do with myself. I had you in my bed for a week, and what I wouldn’t have given to have made it last the rest of my life. We didn’t do half of the things I promised all those months ago, but I don’t think it mattered much in the end. I had you for a week, and that’s all an unlucky guy like me could have asked for.

I couldn’t believe it when you were there waiting for me as casual and sweet as anything, like I didn’t just leave you days before. It was the best surprise that I could have asked for, seeing you again before I was dropped into this Hell.

The shelling was constant now. If you were one of the unlucky ones, you’d hear as bullets or shrapnel met their marks and brought down men, leaving nothing but a puddle of blood and a sharp yell that rang in your ears for minutes afterward.

It was here in his foxhole when Bucky found himself thinking of God. He’d never been particularly religious, mostly because he could not imagine why some guy in the sky would be so cruel as to make the sweetest people suffer the worst. When he was young, his Ma had tried her best to teach him the chants and the prayers. Steve also took him to Mass, and he helped his friend memorize Bible verses until they could recite them in their sleep. But it never truly resonated with him. Bucky couldn’t understand the point.

That is until he met his sweetheart. The very first picture she had sent him, she had been wearing a cross. Seven to Bucky's nine, they had become acquainted through a pen pal program. She began as Steve's pen pal, but that was the winter that he was sick and spent more time in bed than out. She had sent letter upon letter upon letter until Bucky got so tired of it that he responded himself. Bucky fell in love with a pretty girl at least once a day, so it was easy for him to love her, too. But never in a million years did he think they would meet face-to-face. He thought he was the luckiest bastard ever to exist when he found out her relative ran the camp he was supposed to train at. It was there, amidst the muck and mud of Camp McCoy, that Bucky found God in the taste of her secret kisses.

He thought of her in those rare moments of loud silence where the only thing you could do was wait until the shelling started up again and until the bombs rattled the ground. With every jingle of the lucky Saint Barbara medallion she had gifted him, Bucky thought of her, thought of the love of his life. The dirt under her fingernails, the quirk of her lips, the unruly curls in her hair. The slow way she spoke. She was soft lines and smudged nail polish with hair blowing in her face. A run in her stocking that got worse until she got a new pair. She grew up half-living on her uncle's farm, doing math problems in the dirt. When she visited Bucky in New York the week before he shipped out, she had only packed one dress.

It was still the best week of his life.

It was Coney Island and riding the Cyclone under the setting sun. It was sugary sweet kisses and twirls on the dance floor that left his toes hurting whenever she stepped on them. It was necking in alleyways on the way home from the movies, a proposal that led to them falling into bed together. Though they hadn't been together face-to-face long, Bucky had known her all of his life. They were planning a wedding for when he returned.

Dawn was quickly rising around them as Bucky sighed sadly, itching to return to his favorite dream. He wanted this horrible war to be over. He wanted to take a real bath, have a delicious meal, and then go to sleep in a real bed with a real woman curled around him. She slept like the dead, Bucky remembered. Nothing roused her, not even the noisy streets of Brooklyn.

He pulled out a letter she’d written him ages ago after she turned down his first proposal. It was crinkled and barely legible under the fading light, but Bucky had the words memorized. He traced the edges with a careful thumb, imagining her huddled over at a desk and taking ages to figure out what she wanted to say. He smiled as he began to read:

Bucky,

I am not as good with words as you are. I hope you aren’t too sore at me because I have some explaining to do, and I want you to hear it. I am sorry it took so long.

War is in my family’s blood. My grandad fought in Puerto Rico, my great-grandpa down South. My papa and his brother were involved in the Great War, although their experiences were vastly different. My papa says his little brother got the brains of the family, which is why he joined the QMC. War didn’t touch him there, not really. He can still talk about his experiences with delight, his eyes lighting up whenever someone asks him about his heroism. Then he takes one look at my papa, at his leg that ends above the knee, and goes silent. No one asks Papa what he saw. We know better. I never knew him as he was before the trenches. Mama always talks about how right after he came home, she would catch him standing in the corner of their bedroom in the middle of the night. He would stare at the wall and talk to himself. What he saw at night, she never knew, and he never remembered it the next morning.

When I talk to him about it, he tells me little. He always says that he doesn’t believe in much anymore, but he believes in love. God leaves you in war, and my mama was the one who helped him find his way out of the trenches. I know that I am not one for taking risks, and I know that I am quite dull compared to what you’re used to, but I am like my papa. I believe in war, and I believe in love. We could be bombed by the Germans tomorrow, and you would never know how I felt. And I am sick to death of hanging my toes over the edge and waiting for the courage to jump. My mama and papa fell in love through letters. I suppose we did, too.

I hope you come back to me, sheik. But if you don't, we'll always have McCoy.

Tucking the letter back in his pocket, Bucky sniffled. It stank out here. Blood and dirt and gunpowder and sweat and smoke coated his lungs. The perfume she had sprayed on her letter had faded long ago. He wanted to feel clean again. He felt a pang in his chest as he looked down at his fingernails, dirtier than hers would ever be, and hoped he would get out of this alive and make his way home to her.

“Barnes!” someone shouted for him.

He stood up. The war was due to erupt any second now.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Semper Meus

Part 3

Scotty

When the doorbell rang, he couldn't help but swear in Gaelic. Leah was already here! And he wasn't finished yet.

Scotty quickly pulled over the best white shirt he could find, then searched for a good pair of jeans. He wanted to make a good first impression on his sister-in-law.

He could hear Leonard and Leah laughing and talking in the living room. Damn it, he had to hurry!

As soon as he was dressed up, he ran to the door and nearly tripped when he reached the living room.

'Great first impression. Being clumsy,' his mind scolded him, but Leah just chuckled.

"Hey, hey. It's just me. Not Angelina Jolie."

Leonard rolled his eyes.

"Gotta agree with you there. You're worlds apart."

"Hey! I'm gorgeous!" Leah punched her brother in his side before she walked over to Scotty and pulled him into a hug.

"Hello Scotty. It's nice to finally meet you. Like... for real."

Over the last month they had video called each other quite often, planning Leah's stay at Leonard's place. No... their place. This was their home.

"Aye, it's great to meet ye too, lass. And... ye do look gorgeous, indeed."

Scott eyed their visitor from head to toe. She really was a beautiful woman.

Leah wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned to Leonard.

"See Lenny boy? This gentleman knows how to treat a woman." She turned her head back to Scotty. "You sure you're into men? I mean... I'm still single."

Scotty blushed slightly at this comment. Never before had someone flirted with him like this. Or at least it had been ages ago.

"But wait! There's still a brother to claim, isn't there?"

"Leah, let it go. No one's gonna hook up with you," Leonard teased his big sister who sighed theatrically.

"Well, not everyone can be as lucky as you."

She finally let go of Scotty and looked around the house.

"This place is a lot better than the last one you had. Where can I unpack my things?"

Leonard joined his sister and placed an arm around her, guiding her towards the guest room.

"This will be your room, Lee."

He glanced over his shoulder and mouthed a quick 'sorry' to his fiancé, but Scotty just waved it off.

Leah would definitely bring some life into their home.

Part 4

McCoy

McCoy was enjoying breakfast before work with Scotty the next morning when Leah walked into the kitchen.

“Morning Lenny Boy,” she said as she walked behind him and tousled his hair.

“Stop it,” McCoy responded.

“I saved ye a plate,” Scotty said. He got up and walked over to retrieve it.

“Oh,” Leah said in surprise. “I normally just have some toast.”

Scotty sat the plate in front of her and went back to his seat. McCoy watched his sister begin to eat.

“Scotty you made this?” Leah asked.

Scotty nodded.

“Of course you did, it’s delicious. Lenny could never make something this good.”

“Hey!” McCoy cried. “I make Nana’s cobbler better than you ever will!”

“Ok, I’ll give you that one,” Leah conceded. “Len,” she said after another moment, “does he make you breakfast every morning?”

“Most mornings,” McCoy nodded.

Leah raised her eyebrows and looked at Scotty. McCoy saw the color beginning on his fiancé’s face as he shrugged.

“I like to,” Scotty said.

“Dang Len, you lucked out,” Leah said returning to eating.

“Yeah,” McCoy said and he smiled at Scotty, “I did.”

“Leah, did you have plans today?” Scotty asked.

“Just relax. Maybe nose around and find out all the secrets around here.”

“What?” Scotty looked taken aback.

“She’s joking leannan,” McCoy said to him. He gave a stern glance at his sister to warn her not to joke like that.

“Yeah, just a joke,” Leah said. “Sorry.” She looked back at McCoy questioningly.

It was quiet a moment before Leah spoke again.

“What on earth did you just call him?” she asked, looking at McCoy.

McCoy grinned at Scotty. “Ooo, so this is how it must have felt for you at home. Tha gaol agam ort.”

Scotty grinned back and repeated the words.

Leah looked between them. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

“Good. I’ve got to finish getting ready for work.” McCoy pushed back and took his dishes to the sink.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Leah offered.

“No, lass—” Scotty began, but Leah cut him off.

“You made breakfast; I can clean up. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh let her,” McCoy said as he leaned down to kiss Scotty. “You’ve got to get moving too unless you want Keenser to leave you behind.”

[kanemayfield]

5 Reggae Party Rules (for ladies)

1. If he is talking to you & is over the age of 40, yall go together. At least till the end of the evening. It will be gunshots if you get the fraternizing. Keep it moving or choose wisely. Your name is now "Di Dautah".

But be aware... sugar daddy.... and people factory... are NOT mutually exclusive. This 57yr old man will make his fingers like a gun and shoot your club right up. His nickname is the fertile crecent. You'll be pregnant... and then a whole bunch of them old songs gonna start making sense.

You: Godfrey... I'm pregnant..

Yard Don: ...hmmmm mmmmh.... mi seed strong.......

Then tell you how well all 23 of his pickney are doing in life like you need to be happy about it. The gods chose you.

BTW he's rounding down at 23... sun don't know the real number. And will call you and them kids 4 different names till he gets it right. This man been a gyalist since the Reagan era and when he brushes his teeth it sounds like an exorcism.

You might be confused... and that's good. Cause when that last line makes sense it's too late.

2. If he buys you a drink, and he is young... he's got good manners. Now polygraph him for the secret family and/or domestic violence gene.. cause you might have found you a husband in here. If his mom is really nice but his grandma calls you "road gyal" and "wata bug" or "whore foot" or some crazy shit... thats the real McCoy. Plan the wedding and know his mom don't like you either.

But...

If he bought you a drink and he is 50+... he is a drug dealer.

But.. he is a classy one. He drives an 89 BMW.

He is like the boxwine of drug dealers. You see that nugget watch... its bank... be impressed by it.

If he has the matching nugget ring and bracelet he been hustling since your dad was in High School and his gun got bodies on it. He still got a closet full of Dapper Dan suits that he's looking for an excuse to wear. His beeper number is older than his last 2 girlfriends. That may sound 🚩but there is something to be said for a man who does not change. Also a 68yr old west indian man isn't playing around either... homey been a coxman since Sparrow Meets The Dragon and is doped up on all types of sea moss and tiger balms and fuck powders. He got a whole draw full of enhancements to ensure he can put ur pum pum on the injured reserve list. No one wears a vintage Stetson hat if they can't sling dick... store won't even sell em to you without references.

Oh... and he will pistol whip one of these young Thundercats for getting fresh with you... him... the bartender... for wearing white after labor day... anything. All of it. He lives on go mode. Got a whole song about his mindset

3. If you are even moderately attractive dudes are gonna just start dancing with you w/out asking.

Dancing is rubbing his dick on you. Know that this comes with your price of admission.

Note for you fellas... you are gonna want to maintain an appropriate level of trouser discipline here. Yes these rules are for ladies but some of yall jokers are wilding.

Proper etiquette dictates & demands... quarter chub. Not more... not less.

It cant be nothing... trust me... nothing is bad. Too much is worse.

Do not bring your raging erection to a party such as this. An old lady is gonna hit you with a purse wild times as they chase you out for being a “dutty rapscallion” or some English sounding shit like that. So quarter chub... its proper presentation levels. Enough to indicate interest, but not land yourself on a watchlist for being some sort of fuck goblin. Don't be the guy known as “too horny” for a Trinidadian birthday... they national export is homewreckers. Word.

Anyway if you don't want to have dick rubbed on your ass (or the middle of your back if you're short) then stay home or sit down in the booth with Boxwine. He aint dancing less Police In Helicopter come on. That will mostly consist of mild hopping on one foot with a hand in the air.

No... he doesn't expect you to do it with him. It's like the humpty... but for weed. But if he starts skanking... you can go get some shit from your car and come back.... thats like the old yardie man version of vouging on a runway. That shit is the ital cripwalk... legendary.

But everybody didn’t wear Clarks here, which brings me to the young Jamaicans. Watch the fuck out for these young yardie yoot dem. Hes not like the Yard Don over there. This nigga don't wanna dance... he wanna do WWF moves on you.

Yeah.... you see that... those are the arm gestures of a man that don't care about your safety. He aint here for a good time.. he's here for a fucking ladder match.

Yes.... thats right.... he jumped on her back for a horsey ride.... and that is how he starts. I love you... I care... so if he tries to dance with you and starts by telling everyone to back up. Run. He is gonna do the stone cold stunner on you and dutty whine over your concussed frame. While his friends cheer him on, wave homemade blowtorches in the air, and don't call you an ambulance. Talking bout "she nuh ready yet".

Just dont...

Theres no solidarity here... bitches will step over you like Allen Iverson talking bout "big ooman ting dis" and enter the octagon with that nigga. This shit is a royal rumble.

4. Everyone makes their fingers like a gun.. it's the guy that DOESN'T that has one.

Watch out for that guy.. he bought u a drink.

If this is a REAL party than there is a 70% chance it's not in a "club" club. It could be in the basement of a house... or at a Knights Of Columbus or a VFW (which is just a house we don't mind if you break). The lower the deposit the worse the security.

And security is someone's uncle... and he ain't dying for your safety. Mind your mannerisms. If it's dark... and you see a crew of women got a bright camera light in they face... they talking shit to it in between slow whining on air... wearing bright pastels... yeah.... just dont.... they with the shits. Don't even matter... whatever you with... they with it...whatever kind of smoke... brisket... choo choo train... colorful smoke. All of it.

Oh.. you thought she was "DONE" dancing with him... naah sis... she cyan dun.... and now you getting jumped by the trenchtown Powerpuff Girls and they washing you out to a cutty ranks song. No one will stop dancing... apparently you wanted to test they rocket launcher.

5. If you are not west indian... remember.... twerking shall never defeat whining. This is law.. The world has led you astray. All the Dominican surgical's can't help you here.. you built like a freshly pulled tooth 🦷 and can't dance for shit. That skinny girl giving you all the work. She is rolling her eyes at YOU.. yeah... this is her kingdom girl... she can't fill out windbreaker pants but will blow you off the dance floor. You are outside your jurisdiction ma.

Everybodys looking. We secretly look at you the way you look at white people dancing... with amused pity.

Yes... we know the words to all these songs.

Yes.. the Dj asked you if your pussy is good.

Yeah.. thats normal... its actually a compliment.

Yeah he shouted it... he gonna shout over all this shit.

Yes that old man IS checking you out.

No.. you can't go upstairs. Because the uncles that aren't allowed down here for monstrous reasons are up there lurking...

NO you DON'T want to meet them... some of them niggas ain't allowed to babysit.

Don't eyeball those broads... they a different kind of ratchet.

The backyard is for smokers and dudes trying to take you home TONIGHT.... list goes on.

The best dick you've ever had is here but you don't want it... it'll be administered by a nigga named Fitzroy St Joseph McCloud who will get your number very calmly while two women fight over him on the front lawn. This man will exhale and look you right in the eyes and say "you know... I don't know what all that excitement is about. Some people just shouldn't drink". This man has 47 children.

This can seem a bit overwhelming to the uninitiated.

People will ask you what you "are". They want to know what kind of west indian your family is so they can play the averages of how to proceed. They will look dissapoint when you go "im just plain old black". They hit you wit the ohhh... awwww.... well thats ok... are you have fun? Like you told them ur in a wheelchair.

That can be uncomfortable so just pick some 3rd tier country and claim it (parkway rules). If you are unclear with the tier system ask a Jamaican, Trini, or Guyanese. Those are your 1st tier west indians. Then you got your Bajans, Grenada, and ill let Aruba and VI fight it out for "other places who can't make patty for shit but you can still get shot."

Bahamas, Bermuda, or Saint (Anything). Those places have low gun violence and inferior curry. Be them... we will expect less of you lol.

Ok... don't do your face like that... if a Yankee called you a coconut I'm right there with you to help you stomp em out with unlaced timbs. We are family.... this is home talk... you KNOW yall niggas don't count like that.

You think St. Barts be ringing off like that? If you don't have a parade truck on the parkway... you're not a real country. The president of your country teaches scuba at the Hyatt. Your army wears cargo shorts and sandals. I don't make the rules. Get your crime rate up or accept your place in the pecking order. Curacao is a shitty mixer.. not a place. Aint no nigga from Nassau gonna do shit besides braid your hair or overcharge you for a cruise activity.

Oh and honorary mentions to Haiti. They give it up.... but these rules don't even work for yall. Picture an old Haitian man.... you better HOPE he aint buy you a drink. Most of the time it just ain't happening anyway. He gonna look wild offended like you tried to put a finger in his butt... and tell you have some water.

These are the rules.... buss a whine in good health

Love'

Kane

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 15: 2x03 The Paradise Syndrome

I have seen this episode once before and I remember it being pretty awful... but tbh, I didn’t think it was so bad this time around. Maybe that’s just because my expectations were, like, Spock’s-Brain low. It definitely had issues but there was stuff I liked too!

Hmmm, that’s not the bridge. It appears to be... California?

Wondering what people might be so “blessed by this environment”--what a manly he-man action/adventure guy thing to say, amirite?

How does Spock know the significant markers of all the Native American tribes at a distance, off the top of his head?

(Answer: he doesn’t; all of this information is wrong and also one of those tribes is completely made up lmao.)

Honestly, who’s to say these people aren’t advanced? How do YOU know?

“Just so peaceful... no command decisions.” Oh no, Jim’s feeling Romantic again.

Honestly, imagine this characterization in AOS: overworked starship captain think he wants a break (but is wrong). Beyond made a vague attempt but missed what it is that Kirk finds stressful about command--it’s not that it’s boring, it’s the weight of the responsibility and the inability to find love.

Although funnily enough, even on his Native American Vacation, he still finds himself in a command position. He just can’t be stopped. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Oh no, the obelisk ate him.

Maybe these people specifically built the obelisk so that they could return to this idyllic ““primitive”“ state, hmm? Maybe they like their lives this way. Maybe they experienced "progress" and then decided that whatever era of their development looked like indigenous American peoples had it right. (This is not correct but it roughly is the plot of Errand of Mercy so I’m not without precedent.)

Spock’s using simple tools to explain his point to Bones lol. “Here, let me dumb it down for you, lesser man of science.”

“Who am I? What are these?” Cpine morning voice: “This must be a dream!”

Kirk looks so confused. The god from the obelisk.

“The engines are showing signs of stress.” Seems to me like SCOTTY’S showing signs of stress.

And yet the music is so whimsical.

Honestly Kirk’s expression here = Denny Crane’s when in a meeting

White man brings CPR, is hailed as god. (I wish I were making this up.)

Damn, Salish has been demoted. How embarrassing for him.

This is a VERY interesting Spock. He does all his calculations, but the he takes all the risks. He’s very certain and single-minded, almost obsessed, not afraid of anything. I think it’s IC but I also think you can see some Kirk influence, perhaps... You can see how Spock has grown in his command abilities since The Galileo Seven.

The wise ones = the aliens.

“He died before he could tell Salish the secret” to opening the Obelisk and stopping the asteroid. That IS unfortunate.

“How does this shirt open?” Lol.

“Your name is Kirok?” “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“I’ve never been this happy and peaceful.” Funny how he looks neither happy nor peaceful. Maybe it’s something like “I’ve never been this happy and peaceful...and I don’t like it.” Or “I’ve never been this happy and peaceful... there must be something wrong.”

“Here there is much time. For everything.” No there isn’t, there’s an asteroid coming.

Kirk’s cottage core fantasy.

Poor Scotty, so stressed out. Maybe he needs some time with the indigenous aliens.

The Joining Day? Lol okay.

Kirk has no chill, at all. “Oh, you want to get married? Tomorrow? Okay!!” Is this how Gary was able to successfully distract with him the blonde lab technician?

The “stardrive.”

“Estimated repair time?” “FOREVER.”

“And you lost Jim.” Cool it Bones, there’s no need to be cruel. Spock’s already in his thinking pose so you know he’s taking this seriously.

Love Spock’s chair. That’s not Starfleet regulation.

“I have found paradise.” Is he high??

Requisite highly choreographed fight scene.

“You’ve barely eaten or slept for weeks.” That’s because he’s worried about Jim. And the giant asteroid. This is a great Spock and McCoy scene though.

I can’t believe this. Spock lies down (barely!) and McCoy just leaves like he actually thinks he’s won, and then Spock immediately gets up again to go back to work.This guy is even easier to fool than Sarek.

You know Spock spent his whole adolescence going "Sure, I'll do the thing" and then just not doing it.

“A strange lodge that moves through the sky...” Well okay.

Okay I’m sorry, is he sensing the enterprise or is he sensing SPOCK? Because most of this dialogue might just imply he’s generically remembering his old life... but he also specifically says that the “flying lodge” was farther away and now it’s closer again, and how he could he know that otherwise?

She’s pregnant? That’s not good lol. AWKWARD.

Also the closest that TOS will ever come to acknowledging people have sex.

Omg he made a lamp. He made a lamp on his first day there. Does this imply that Captain Kirk had an arts and crafts phase?? Like CPR I understand him knowing--I’m sure everyone in Starfleet does. But hand-carving a lamp? That’s a whole other skill.

Various cultures including “certain Vulcan offshoots” use music notes as words omgggggg I love this information PLEASE tell me more.

“The Preservers” is a good concept imo. Nifty sci fi innovation: taking aliens from endangered places and giving them a new place, then setting it up nicely for them.

Stop throwing things guys! It’s not helping!

“I need Nurse Chapel.” Damn right you do.

Spock really doesn’t like that “wife.” He sounds like “Wife?? How dare??”

Then he suggests it’s a hallucination even though there’s a woman right there.

"Naturally, since he did not come from there. He's my man, get your paws off him."

Vulcan mind fusion? What the heck is that? How is it season 3 and they still don’t know what to call it?

“He is an extremely dynamic individual.” Spock was really taken for a ride in that brain.

“The landing party is expendable.” There’s the Captain.

“I have an excellent eye for musical notes.” Brag.

“Just press the right button.”

Looks like Spock was the god they wanted all along.

Okay, that was an uncool ending though. I know they basically had to kill Miramanee as soon as she was pregnant but like, there was also no reason for her to be pregnant??? I would have preferred if (1) Miramanee hadn't been pregnant, (2) Jim got over her as soon as he regained his memory and (3) she lived and they just parted awkwardly.

Also I think it would have been nice if they had ended with the Enterprise explaining to Salish how the obelisk works, and then maybe even a hint that he and Miramanee will get back together. Like, maybe not that, since I’m not a fan of women just being used to, like, make men feel better--though I’m also not a fan of them being fridged because of Inconvenient Baby--but he should have at least gotten his position back and, more importantly, the knowledge he was always entitled to. Also, the very existence of an asteroid deflector, along with the people’s extensive knowledge of what weather signifies Oncoming Asteroid, implies this happens to them with some frequency. So in other words, the threat will return.

Plus Salish never got enough credit for being right, which he was! The whole time!

Oh and also I would have liked some acknowledgement that Jim does like being Captain. If you watch the whole show, you know that he occasionally bemoans the stress and his inability to maintain a romantic relationship, despite his love of long walks on the beach, but that he’s also ambitious, he loves exploration and adventure, he gets bored if left in one place too long, and he believes in the necessity of progress and discovery to keep not just individuals but societies from stagnation. But if you just watched this episode, you’d think he’d never been happy in his entire life, and that returning to command makes him miserable.

Aside from the Native American stuff--which was awkward and rather unnecessary and has aged, as you might imagine, very very poorly--I actually didn’t hate the episode. It had some VERY interesting Spock stuff, which I think is within a reasonable Spock characterization, and some great Spock and Bones moments. Kirk’s story line was surprisingly engaging for him being completely separate from the crew, and the general theme that he sometimes needs, or thinks he desires, a break from command, is definitely in keeping with other episodes. I liked the asteroid as the Big Danger, which was surprisingly dynamic--by which I mean, it did a good job of connecting the very disparate story lines on the Enterprise and on the planet. I also liked the Sci Fi Concept of the week in the Protectors. And it was interesting to see an ep take place over a longer period of time.

None of this is to downplay how awkward the Native American elements are--incredibly fetishistic, and also lazy--like, “I want to show something Simple and Idyllic...I know! Indians!” There was no reason they should look like American Indians. In fact, it makes no sense that they do: the Protectors take peoples from planets that are about to be destroyed and (somehow) discreetly move them somewhere else, but Native American peoples still.... very much exist? And so does Earth as a whole. So obviously these aliens weren’t transplanted from Earth. So why should their culture resemble some awkward mishmash of Native American cultures?

So overall I’d say, the ideas of the episode, the structure, the characterizations (mostly), and the overall ideas were good, but it was just very awkward and unfortunate that it chose the... aesthetic that it did--especially because it was very much an aesthetic choice and not a well-thought-out, culturally sensitive one. Gonna be honest and just chalk that up to it being 1968 though.

Next is And the Children Shall Lead, which I actually think was one of the first TOS eps I ever saw... But I don’t remember it at all.  So we’ll see!

[reyesstrand]

sweet tarlos with 87 and 73 🥺🥺

thank you for the prompt!!! i hope you enjoy 💕

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like! read on AO3 here!! 

It’s a slow day at work, which is a blessing in disguise. 

Because Carlos has come to learn that slow and boring means safe; it also means that he gets to complain about it to TK and his boyfriend will try to cheer him up through their never-ending text thread. Carlos trudges through the first half of his shift, filling out paperwork and responding to only a few calls when he’s out on patrol with McCoy — they only really deal with settling noise complaints or disputes between neighbours. His phone is constantly vibrating in his pocket, though, and when McCoy goes to pick up their takeout order from one of the local food trucks Carlos scrolls through message after message. TK sends him the most stupidly endearing texts; he passes along jokes Marjan’s cracked or some story of a middle-aged man stuck in the treehouse he was attempting to build for his kids, only to realize too late he had a fear of heights. TK sends him another text about their plans for the night, as they’d both be home before seven, which was kind of a miracle. McCoy teases him once he gets back to their patrol car, catching Carlos off guard as he smiles down at his phone with a slight blush to his cheeks. Carlos quickly types out a message in response to TK — you’re a menace, i love you so much — before he turns to their lunch.

Now, with an achy neck from working at his desk for a good chunk of the day, Carlos is just longing to go home to his boyfriend. And he immediately smiles when he steps foot into his home and finds TK lounging comfortably on the couch, as if he has carved out a spot for himself in the house the same way he’s carved out a spot in Carlos’ heart. He’s scrolling through his phone, but he meets Carlos’ eyes the moment the door opens, and the two of them stare at each other like smiling idiots for half a second before TK jerks his chin and gestures for Carlos to come forward, which he does easily, like breathing. Resting one hand on the back of the couch behind TK, Carlos meets his boyfriend halfway in a kiss. TK presses forward almost desperately, a teasing look passing over his face as he pulls away just enough to speak. 

“So I’m a menace, huh?” TK says against his mouth, and Carlos rolls his eyes as he surges forward for one more quick kiss. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know it,” Carlos replies, running a hand through TK’s hair. TK opens his mouth to deliver some sarcastic comment until he pointedly watches every movement as Carlos steps back enough to pull off his heavy belt and start unbuttoning his collared shirt. TK’s eyebrows jump upward suggestively, words dying on his tongue as he watches. “Ah, nope. Let me shower first, baby. Want to order in tonight?” 

“No way. You shower, I’m making you dinner,” TK says, jumping up to his feet to crowd into Carlos’ space long enough to press a kiss to his jaw. He scurries off toward the kitchen and Carlos watches in quiet amazement and love, until he shakes his head at himself and retreats toward the bathroom. He emerges feeling so much more relaxed, after letting hot water and steam work out some of the tension in his muscles. After changing into a very well-worn APD t-shirt and sweats, Carlos slips back into the hallway and takes a moment to just watch TK move around the kitchen, warming him completely to see how at ease he’s been over the last few months that they’ve been officially together. There are still some bad days, which they handle together, but they just work, and Carlos cherishes every moment they get. 

After dinner, they follow through with their nightly tradition whenever they get to actually spend their time together after their shifts: doing absolutely nothing. They lounge on the couch, making out for a little bit like teenagers before they just end up curled together, TK slouched against Carlos while they talk aimlessly about their days. Something Carlos learned very quickly about his boyfriend is how touchy he is; he constantly craves physical touch, even as something as simple as holding hands. He’d been hesitant before, when they were stuck in a limbo of going slow while moving at TK’s pace, but now TK latches onto him whenever he can — and Carlos never denies how much comfort it brings him, too. 

It’s been probably a week since they actually got alone time like this, at least in the sense that one of them doesn’t come home to the other already passed out in bed. They have time tonight, and TK seems to take advantage of that. He starts out slowly as Carlos talks about one of the more hilarious calls he remembers being on a couple weeks ago, one that the 126 was also dispatched to — but his thoughts melt out of his brain like goo as TK mouths down his jaw and throat, nosing against the skin there as he hums along to Carlos’ words. 

“You’re a little shit,” Carlos mutters before his words cut off in a soft sound drawn from the back of his throat, as he easily pulls TK closer. TK grins, as he’s apparently made it his life’s mission to make Carlos speechless, settling on Carlos’ lap as he moves in to kiss him properly. TK runs his fingers through Carlos’ curls, groaning a bit as Carlos finally kisses him back deeply, one arm curled against the small of TK’s back. “Don’t start something you aren’t going to finish, Ty.” 

TK pulls back, feigning innocence as he gives him a look. “Would I ever?” 

He then flashes him a pretty grin, knowing full well that he’s a fucking tease that has left him hanging plenty of times before, and surges forward to kiss him again before Carlos can respond. He’s smiling into the kiss and Carlos can’t help but to laugh a little into it, slipping his hands up and under TK’s hoodie, palms against his warm skin. TK sits back a bit, just enough to start properly yanking off his hoodie — he does it too quickly, though, which leads him to promptly getting stuck in the forest green fabric. TK makes a muffled sound and Carlos reaches up to help him out of the mess he’s gotten himself in, eventually tossing the hoodie to the floor. Carlos grins immediately though, because TK’s got his hair sticking up at every possible angle, and he has that glossy twinkle in his eyes, and his lips are kiss-red and Carlos loves him. He cracks a lopsided smile at him, nudging Carlos’ nose with his own as he tries to duck back in. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing,” Carlos smirks into the kiss. “It’s just that you’re so adorable, it feels like you’re trying to kill me.” 

“Excuse me?” TK asks, scrunching up his nose in a move that makes Carlos’ heart swell even more. 

Carlos shakes his head, loving the flush that spreads over TK’s face. “You heard me, cariño.” 

“Have you looked at yourself lately, baby?” TK asks, though he’s still blushing a little, taking some of the teasing bite from his voice. His words go soft as he whispers, “You’re the cutest fucking thing.” 

“Who knew TK Strand was a sap, huh?” Carlos teases, earning him a light nudge from TK until his boyfriend frames his face in his hands and practically kisses the grin off his lips, a predicament that Carlos would love to find himself in for as long as he lives.

[calliecat93]

ST: TNG Watchthrough Episodes 17-20.

Home Soil: So from what I’ve read, this would be Gene Roddenberry’s final episode as showrunner before getting replaced by writer Maurice Hurly. I won’t comment on the behind the scenes drama and such that caused it because it was decades ago and not relevant for a First Watchthrough post, but since this is the last I wanted to make note of it. My thoughts? It was okay. This is very much borrowing from the TOS episode Devil in the Dark (the one with the Horta) with the plot being of an alien presence killing humans... but only because the humans were unknowingly causing it harm. It’s done fine enough, not being any better or worst than when TOS did it, but that’s about it. It does executed it a little differently with the events and the alien is FAR less willing to comply than the Horta was at first and ends with the alien backing down, but refusing contact with humans for three centuries, which DOES make it a nice contrast to how Devil in the Dark ended. It’s not great. It’s not horrible. It’s just okay with the biggest criticism being pulling too much from TOS again. Look, I love TOS and so far TNG hasn’t passed it. I outright have a 30 disc Blu-Ray set coming in the next few days of all the TOS material, including TAS and the films. If I want to revisit TOS, I’ll go watch it or read fanfiction or heck, go watch AOS. TNG has remained painfully average or not good at this point because it’s trying to retain what TOS had, despite it being over 20 years later and even the TOS films had changed how it did things compared to the show. Whatever one feels about Roddenberry, his removal I hope helped push TNG away from TOS and let it carve it’s own identity while still honoring what TOS had stood for, and according to history it did. Not sure if we’ll see the quality go up in these final few S1 episodes, but still. Sorry, felt appropriate to finally get this out here. Going back to the episode, it’s perfectly fine and it delivers it’s message well, and hey it’s not always a bad idea to showcase the same themes as the previous incarnation in a spinoff especially fi a relevant one/gets shown to viewers who hadn’t seen that TOS episode. Not the best, not the worst, and that’s not such a bad way to end up. 3/5.

Coming of Age: Alright Wesley, it took a bit but you’re starting to grow on me. So we have Wesley going through a test to get into the Academy while Picard and the crew are dealing with some rough interrogations and Picard being painted as an incompetent captain by the interrogator. They don’t seem that connected, but infact the latter is a test for Picard to determine if e’s ready for a promotion. I like how they bring up Picard’s actions in past continuity that WOULD present him as at least fallible to major error, ignoring certain conditions that caused it to begin with and how he got them out of the situation. Like I said, this was one of Wesley’s better episodes. While doing well with testing, his worry about the psyche test and not knowing his own fear and therefore worried about what the test will unleash upon him is very relatable. Heck his talk with Worf was a really nice scene, especially with Worf outright stating that only fools fear nothing which in turns add more depth and dimensions to the Klingons. The reveal fo his greatest fear, while I wish he had hesitated a little bit more, made perfect sense and he acted as a true Starfleet Officer. Which since this was before Undiscovered Country, is a VERY positive development. Picard guiding a kid who made a stupid decision was also good and shows why he’s a good captain, and his talk to him as well as encouraging a disappointed Wesley at the end was a nice moment to cap the episode off with. As far as Wesley goes, he may still be presented as too competent and intelligent, but he is more likeable and the testing setting allows him to shine like this without, again, affecting the adult characters. Plus text anxiety is super relatable haha. Now of course due to Status Quo is God, Wesley fails, but he takes it well and proved that he will be ready for it in the future. It was a pretty nice episode all in all. Nothing spectacular, but I enjoyed it, neither plot overpowered the other, had a good theme of one’s integrity as a person/doing your best, good use of past continuity, and it really shows the best in characters like Picard, Wesley, and the crew’s loyalty to the former. 4/5.

Heart of Glory: Back in TOS, the Klingons were depicted as war-loving jerks. They weren’t without some depth and episodes like Day of the Dove did attempt to give them a bit more positive limelight, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the one-dimensional characterization. The films were a bit better, Undiscovered Country especialy, but that one hadn’t been made yet and they still stuck with the ruthless characterization, just changed up the makeup to make them look more alien like. It was weird sicne whenever I ddi watch TNG back when that’s all I knew of Star Trek, Worf never came across like a ruthless warmonger but like an honorable warrior which made him stand-out amongst the cast for me (that and because I freakin’ love Michael Dorn due to his animation voice over work, anyone else remember I.M. Weasel? XD). So now we get an episode where Worf gets to interact with other Klingons. I lift a brow at Worf not knowing about most Klingon customs when he seemed perfectly knowledgeable about i in past episodes. Maybe that wad due tot he shift after getting rid of Roddenberry/ IDK, but these kinds of retcons happens sometimes. This was an interesting one for sure. The Klingons are much better presented here than the entirety of TOS, showing more of their culture/customs and compared to Worf, who was raised by humans and therefore not fully in touch with his people and their ways. This is probably one of, if not the first time he’s interacted with his full culture and naturally he’d want to interact with them and learn more now that he has the chance. There’s the themes of one growing in another culture, how they adapt while still trying to be part of that culture, and finding one’s own path. There is the question on why Worf wans’t just returned tot he Klingons as a child and IDK if they address it down the line, but that type of life and struggle with identity/culture clash due to upbringing IS real and VERY relatable. I’m really glad to see the Klingons fleshed out past their TOS depiction and it’s overall respected by the cast, showing how far things have come since Kirk’s time. It fleshes out Worf’s character a great deal and makes him more likable/relatable and giving him a very realistic struggle, and in the end he stands by his beliefs and even gets the respect and offer to serve with Klingons in the future by Klingon Captain K’Nera. Very much glad that I watched this one~ 4/5.

The Arsenal of Freedom: Oh boy, war machines that killed everything! That theme never gets old! I’m not joking, with how modern warfare and technology are growing and being sold for profit, it feels like it just keeps getting more and more relevant. There’s a lot of tension in this one with Yar, Data, and Riker dealing with the arsenal that is intelligent and they’re unable to be beamed up, the ship getting attacked with Geordi in command and the Chief Engineer (they seem to go through a LOT of those this season, guess they couldn’t handle the strain of acting as miracle workers like Scotty) being an asshole to him, and Crusher injured with Picard trying to keep her alive and not get killed. Seriously, I loved Geordi here for being an effective acting commanding officer during a VERY intense situation AND telling off the Chief Engineer without even so much as raising is voice while encouraging the other officers. Badass and admirable. The away team scenes were also good with everyone being plain awesome~ Crusher having to explain to Picard how to treat her injuries while she’s in obvious pain was really good character stuff and Thank God that they avoided indulging in the obvious shipping fodder. I know they’ve hinted a little at Picard/Crusher... but I’m not really interested in it int he romantic sense at least currently. It comes off as a Captain and CMO trusting the other (not quite the same as say... Kirk and McCoy, but the trust is very much strong here plus Picard and Crusher should be allowed to form their own dynamic) and that’s the kind of interaction I live for~! It feels like everyone got a moment to shine, even Troi checking on Geordi’s mental well-being and letting him express some of his nervousness was really nice. And of course the arsenal having destroyed their own creators... like I said, a theme that just seems to grow more and more in relevance. Like I said above, some themes are necessary to repeat, and this one very much qualifies. But yeah this was great for it’s tensions, the characters being all great especially Geordi, and it’s themes (even fi IDK how intentional it was) being a huge reminder of the dangers of modernized warfare/using warfare for profit. It doesn’t go well. 4.5/5.

Okay, it’s late in the season, but we are FINALLY getting somewhere! The characters have truly grown on me and their characterizations are getting better (i.e. Picard is still a serious captain, but is very much warming up and not as cold as he was early on), the stories are steadily improving, and even with what I said about the first one, I really enjoyed this batch of episodes! Only five remain in the season, and the plan is to knock ‘em all out tomorrow. Might take a day or two off before tarting Season 2, but golly I’m finally feeling excited~!

[green-blooded]

So, I want to talk about Bread and Circuses. Or, I want to talk about Spock and McCoy in Bread and Circuses... plus the rest of the first half of the second season, because this episode isn’t actually good aside from the Spock and McCoy moments.

We start with this:

SPOCK: Fascinating. This atmosphere is remarkably similar to your twentieth century. Moderately industrialized pollution containing substantial amounts of carbon monoxide and partially consumed hydrocarbons. MCCOY: The word was smog. SPOCK: Yes, I believe that was the term. I had no idea you were that much of a historian, Doctor. MCCOY: I am not, Mister Spock. I was simply trying to stop you from giving us a whole lecture on the subject. Jim, is there anything at all we know about this planet?

(This post got long--nearly 4000 words???--so here’s a cut to save your dashboard!)

Which is kind of an odd argument for them? McCoy gets on Spock for a lot of things, but not usually for talking too much. In fact, it’s usually the reverse. In Trouble with Tribbles (the previous episode by production order), they have this exchange:

MCCOY: Spock, I don't know too much about these little tribbles yet, but there's one thing that I have discovered. SPOCK: What is that, Doctor? MCCOY: I like them better than I like you. SPOCK: Doctor? MCCOY: Yes? SPOCK: They do have one redeeming characteristic. MCCOY: What's that? SPOCK: They do not talk too much. If you'll excuse me, sir.

Far be it from me to accuse Star Trek of having continuity, but don’t these arguments seem related? In fact, both of these episodes have had particularly heated arguments between Spock and McCoy for no apparent reason in the plot. There are also a few heated exchanges in The Deadly Years (about Spock’s health, and then Kirk’s dementia).

Put a pin in this. Let’s return to Bread and Circuses.

MCCOY: Odd that these people should worship the sun. SPOCK: Why, Doctor? MCCOY: Because, my dear Mister Spock, it is illogical. Rome had no sun worshipers. Why should they parallel Rome in every way except one?

Let’s just ignore the fact that yes Rome did have sun worshipers and that there have been a hell of a lot more than one discrepancy, because if we talk about inaccuracies we’ll be here all day. The point is, they’re both postulating about this odd ‘parallel’ Earth, but McCoy’s interjection seems to annoy Spock for some reason... To the point that he brings it up again later, but in the meantime, they also have this exchange:

SPOCK: Even more fascinating. Slavery evolving into an institution with guaranteed medical payments, old-age pensions. MCCOY: Quite logical, I'd say, Mister Spock. Just as it's logical that twentieth-century Rome would use television to show its gladiator contests or name a new car the Jupiter Eight. SPOCK: Doctor, if I were able to show emotion, your new infatuation with that term would begin to annoy me. MCCOY: What term? Logic? Medical men are trained in logic, Mister Spock. SPOCK: Really, Doctor, I had no idea they were trained. Watching you, I assumed it was trial and error.

Hey guys, remember an episode called Amok Time (only 9 episodes earlier in production order instead of a whole season apart), where McCoy said this:

MCCOY: My orders were to give you a thorough physical. In case you hadn't noticed, I have to answer to the same commanding officer that you do. Come on, Spock. Yield to the logic of the situation.

And it, y'know, worked to convince Spock to listen to him that time. BUT let's also look at I, Mudd where they have one of those curiously heated arguments again:

MCCOY: All right. There's something wrong about a man who never smiles, whose conversation never varies from the routine of the job, and who won't talk about his background. SPOCK: I see. MCCOY: Spock, I mean that it's odd for a non-Vulcan. The ears make all the difference. SPOCK: I find your argument strewn with gaping defects in logic. MCCOY: Maybe, but you can't evaluate a man by logic alone. Besides, he has avoided two appointments that I've made for his physical exam without reason. SPOCK: That's not at all surprising, Doctor. He's probably terrified of your beads and rattles.

(Notice, McCoy realizes he’s offended Spock and immediately tries to fix it, but Spock remains annoyed with him.)

A couple of things here. First, like in Trouble with Tribbles (the next episode), Spock seems actually offended by McCoy. This was almost entirely absent from the first season, and not particularly prevalent in the first few episodes of the second season. There was plenty of banter and teasing before, but Spock seems more sensitive to it in this middle section of the second season. Then, again, McCoy brings up logic. McCoy argues that logic can't be the only means to evaluate a person. Then, Spock insults McCoy's medical skills. AGAIN, this is a newer development that makes it into almost every episode in the middle of the second season, including I, Mudd, Trouble with Tribbles, and Bread and Circuses. All back-to-back episodes in production order! 

So we have some things repeating in their arguments over multiple episodes. McCoy's interpretation of logic, Spock being offended by McCoy's teasing/insults, and Spock insulting McCoy's skill as a doctor. PUT A PIN IN IT. Returning to Bread and Circuses again. 

MERIK: There's been no war here for over four hundred years, Jim. Could, let's say, your land of that same era make that same boast? I think you can see why they don't want to have their stability contaminated by dangerous ideas of other ways and other places. SPOCK: Interesting, and given a conservative empire, quite understandable. MCCOY: Are you out of your head? SPOCK: I said I understood it, Doctor. I find the checks and balances of this civilization quite illuminating. MCCOY: Next he'll be telling us he prefers it over Earth history. SPOCK: They do seem to have escaped the carnage of your first three world wars, Doctor. MCCOY: They have slavery, gladiatorial games, despotism. SPOCK: Situations quite familiar to the six million who died in your first world war, the eleven million who died in your second, the thirty seven million who died in your third. Shall I go on?

I think this is one of the better exchanges that speak to the themes of this episode, which they should’ve elaborated on but instead went the Jesus Saves route... Whatever. The important thing is that this is another example of their philosophical differences AND very similar to an argument they had in The Apple a few episodes ago.

SPOCK: In my view, a splendid example of reciprocity. MCCOY: It would take a computerized Vulcan mind such as yours to make that kind of a statement. SPOCK: Doctor, you insist on applying human standards to non-human cultures. I remind you that humans are only a tiny minority in this galaxy. MCCOY: There are certain absolutes, Mister Spock, and one of them is the right of humanoids to a free and unchained environment, the right to have conditions which permit growth. SPOCK: Another is their right to choose a system which seems to work for them. MCCOY: Jim, you're not just going to stand by and be blinded to what's going on here. These are humanoids, intelligent. They need to advance and grow. Don't you understand what my readings indicate? There's been no progress here in at least ten thousand years. This isn't life. It's stagnation. SPOCK: Doctor, these people are healthy and they are happy. What ever you choose to call it, this system works, despite your emotional reaction to it. MCCOY: It might work for you, Mister Spock, but it doesn't work for me. Humanoids living so they can service a hunk of tin.

It’s super interesting to me that Spock is using relativistic contract theory to judge these cultures while McCoy is just a straight up anarchist, let’s be real. He hates hierarchical structures and authority figures, and believes that they go against human nature. Which you might say is weird for a Starfleet officer, but he also yells at people above his rank constantly and gets really upset in episodes like The Doomsday Machine when Spock refuses to ignore rank. He’s in Starfleet because he wants to help people, but I can’t imagine him staying if his captain weren’t someone he totally trusts. I mean, you could forget that McCoy has any rank at all with the way he carries himself. Meanwhile, Spock is Very, Very strict in his understanding of hierarchy and rank.

This is one of those deep divisions between the two of them. Put a pin in it. Let’s move on to the gladiator fight.

SPOCK: Need any help, Doctor? MCCOY: Whatever gave you that idea? ACHILLES: Fight, you pointed-ear freak! MCCOY: You tell him, buster. Of all the completely ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!

The fact that McCoy is not a fighter is really brought out in this episode, and I have a lot to say about it in another post. The main thing here is McCoy bringing up logic again and agreeing with an argument that is, in my opinon, a step beyond something that McCoy would actually say. He makes fun of the ears, but freak is a little far, I think.

And all of this leads to the Big Scene in the prison, which I will break into parts. Part #1:

MCCOY: Angry, Mister Spock, or frustrated, perhaps? SPOCK: Such emotions are foreign to me, Doctor. I'm merely testing the strength of the door. MCCOY: For the fifteenth time...

McCoy is lightly teasing Spock for being more emotional than he lets on, while Spock denies having any emotion at all... this is a pretty typical part of the exchange. What really makes it work is Deforest Kelly's delivery. He says these lines with a degree of affection. He's not yelling, and he's not even using the tone he usually has when teasing Spock. In this moment, you can see that McCoy points out Spock's incongruous moments of emotion because he likes that about him. While it sometimes comes across as a 'gotcha' moment (like at the end of The Galileo Seven), the sheer number of times McCoy mentions Spock's emotions shows more than just a passing amount of interest in them.

Then, McCoy continues:

MCCOY: Spock, I know we've had our disagreements. Maybe they're jokes. I don't know. As Jim says, we're not often sure ourselves sometimes, but what I'm trying to say is-- SPOCK: Doctor, I am seeking a means of escape. Will you please be brief? MCCOY: Well, what I'm trying to say is you saved my life in the arena. SPOCK: Yes, that's quite true. MCCOY: I'm trying to thank you, you pointed-eared hobgoblin!

Before I talk about this, I need to take a moment. I think that McCoy often gets painted at someone with his heart on his sleeve, who feels a lot and expresses all of his feelings. And it's just not true! He's very expressive when it comes to some things, sure. He can yell all day about how much he cares about people in general, but when it comes to expressing how much he cares about an individual? It's pretty damn rare. Look at his words AND his body language in Balance of Terror when he has a vulnerable moment with Kirk.

KIRK: I look around that Bridge, and I see the men waiting for me to make the next move. And Bones, what if I'm wrong? MCCOY: Captain, I-- KIRK: No, I don't really expect an answer. MCCOY: But I've got one. Something I seldom say to a customer, Jim. In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all of the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all of that, and perhaps more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk.

McCoy himself says here that he doesn't usually say this kind of thing, and if you look at the series, that bears out. He does NOT find it easy to tell people he cares about them, and when he does, he does it in this abstract way, barely able to make any eye contact. This is AGAIN why the conflict between Spock and McCoy is NOT logic vs. emotion. McCoy is not fully emotional, and he doesn't find emotion easy to express. I would argue that he has almost as much difficulty expressing his feelings for another person as Spock does. I would also argue that McCoy does not LIKE this about himself, and that is part of why it frustrates him so much when he sees it in Spock. 

 So, when he tries to be vulnerable and thank Spock, first of all, he doesn't just say "Hey, thanks for saving me in the arena." He starts with a lot of waffle, and when Spock interrupts him and insists that he keep it short (again, callback to the arguments in this episode and Trouble with Tribbles about which one of them talks too much), McCoy tries to simply thank him, but gets upset when Spock is still impassive and reverts to his usual way of talking to Spock. One remark from Spock, and McCoy loses his ability to be vulnerable and resorts to a sharp tone and insults. Leading into part three of this conversation: 

SPOCK: Oh, yes. You humans have that emotional need to express gratitude. You're welcome, I believe, is the correct response. However, Doctor, you must remember I am entirely motivated by logic. The loss of our ship's surgeon, whatever I think of his skill, would mean a reduction in the efficiency of the Enterprise and therefore-- MCCOY: Do you know why you're not afraid to die, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling. SPOCK: Really, Doctor? MCCOY: I know. I'm worried about Jim, too.

The last bit is powerful, and I think generally something people remember more than the rest of the conversation, but I really need to focus on that first exchange first, because there is a LOT going on, and I've been pinning things through this whole overly long post for this moment.

PIN 1: Their arguments have become more heated in the middle portion of season 2.

This is a very clear example of that. McCoy doesn't drop the issue after the insult and Spock insists he wouldn't have saved McCoy if he weren't logically useful to the ship. Ouch.

PIN 2: The repetition in these heated arguments. McCoy's view of logic, Spock getting offended, Spock insulting McCoy's skill as a doctor.

What Spock says here brings up all three of those issues. Spock has been frustrated by McCoy bringing up logic throughout this episode, and now he's shooting back at him with a logical view of why he saved McCoy's life--while still maintaining that he doesn't think McCoy is a good doctor. McCoy's been using logic against him, and now Spock is returning the favor. Spock understands Human interaction better than this! Something as simple as a "thank you" and "your welcome" is everyday for him, not only on the Enterprise but with one of the people who RAISED him. He is exaggerating his own non-Human qualities throughout this conversation to a truly absurd extent, because McCoy has repeatedly offended him for several episodes. However, McCoy seems unaware that his usual teasing has actually gotten under Spock's skin, because he has been surprised, again and again (especially in I, Mudd where he chases after Spock to apologize to him) when Spock actually acts hurt by him.

And then there's McCoy's response.

It's not "damn your Vulcan logic" or ending the conversation. He grabs Spock and forces him to look at him--which Spock has been avoiding throughout the conversation--and tells Spock that he's so afraid to be human that he doesn't fear death, because that would put an end to the fear that his Human side would show.

IF WE ARE ONLY LOOKING AT THIS ONE EPISODE, this doesn't make sense. This didn't build from the conversations in Bread and Circuses, which is why I keep bringing up several different episodes and why I'm insisting on production order.

PIN 3: These two have deep, deep philosophical differences that they are constantly discussing.

As I said in another post, Spock and McCoy have a different standard for morality which causes the two of them to butt heads a whole lot. In the first season, it was pretty much the same argument over and over again (should we risk a larger number of people to save a smaller number of people), but it's been evolving in this season to the discussion of freedom and cultural differences and more.

If these two men did not have any respect for one another, I don't think these arguments would continue. Yes, they work together, but they don't actually need to interact as much as they do, and they are VERY often seeing walking into a scene on the bridge together or walking down a corridor together, etc. It's not just missions. They choose to spend time together.

So, when Spock says he only saved McCoy because he's useful as the ship's surgeon, McCoy doesn't respond to THAT, because 1) he knows he's a good doctor and never seems fazed by Spock insulting him about that and 2) he knows Spock is not being honest with him here.

This is one of the reasons why I think McCoy gets frustrated with Spock because they have a similar difficulty showing how much they care about other people, and they have an especially difficult time showing affection toward one another.

While the ending of Operation: Annihilate! where McCoy tells Kirk not to tell Spock he called him the best first officer in the fleet is memorable, it's hardly the most vulnerable moment for McCoy in that episode. No, it's when he thinks he's blinded Spock because he didn't consider using the non-visible parts of the light spectrum to kill the parasitic aliens. McCoy can't even say for himself the deep guilt he's feeling about harming Spock--he never says that he's blaming himself. It's Kirk who tells him he's not at fault, and McCoy can't even bring himself to respond. If you look at those last lines about Spock being the best first officer in the fleet in context of how devastated McCoy was when he thought he'd blinded Spock permanently, it definitely hits different, right?

And then there are the times in the first season when Spock believes McCoy is badly hurt or dead. In Miri, Shore Leave, and City on the Edge of Forever, Spock has a strong reaction to seeing McCoy injured, but he does not verbalize this obvious emotional reaction at any time.

They don't know how to say that they care about each other, because that's something they both struggle with in general. They also both struggle with being emotionally vulnerable and allowing other people to know them on a deeper level. Spock uses his Vulcan otherness to keep people at a distance, while McCoy uses a the charm offensive of his "bedside manner" as his defense system.

So, McCoy says this thing about Spock not being afraid to die because he's so terrified of his Human side coming out IN DIRECT RESPONSE to Spock being unable to even look at him when McCoy is not only trying to thank him for saving his life but ALSO putting it into the context of how difficult their friendship is and how rarely they show any straight-forward affection for each other. And the most telling thing is, McCoy didn't seem to know for sure that he was right until he sees Spock’s reaction. Look at his expression when Spock turns away from him.

And look at his intensity when he says that Spock wouldn't know what to do with a "genuine warm, decent feeling."

When Spock turns to him and says "Really, Doctor?"

THAT is when McCoy is the one who breaks eye contact and changes the subject to someone that they both feel affection for, but who isn't in the room to hear it. I understand that there are other readings of this moment, and that's fine, but... I don't think this has to do with Kirk specifically. For one thing, it never comes up in the episode when they are reunited with Kirk, and for another Kirk is in the least danger out of the three of them. Instead, this moment is about how both of them struggle so deeply with showing affection when someone's right there in front of them.

By the end of the episode, we can see the two of them spending time together again, apparently by choice, and seeming very comfortable with each other... and the next episode is Journey to Babel, in which they are very friendly again with The Immunity Syndrome only four episodes after that, and the episodes in between showing them with much less contentious banter again.

Dare I say it, but I think this is a legitimate arc! And it's a shame that most people see the episodes in broadcast order, because it makes their relationship much more incoherent and makes this little escalation of frustration with each other more random and may make it seem like they genuinely dislike each other.

Anyway... this was. Not supposed to be such a long post, but I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about these two, and I can't help myself sometimes.

[chicagocityofclans]

Scorpius Getta → Jake Gyllenhaal → Vampire

→ Basic Information 

Age: 1378

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight 

Birthday: December 2nd

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius 

Religion: Satanism

→ His Personality Getta is practical and down to earth with strong ideas about how vampires should be in this new age. He is orderly, organized, systematic and controlled, and once committed there is no stopping him. Getta has a great capacity for loyalty and affection, considering vampire nature. Being a calm and methodical individual, Getta is mostly in control of his emotions. He rarely loses his temper, but has a great capacity for violence when pushed. Getta is courageous and a true survivor, he is the builder and the foundation of the Underground, and his hard work and values paid off; the Underground is booming and he has one of the largest seethes in America. It's also his ‘fuck you’ attitude that links up with his sucess. Getta is unconcerned about being viewed as ‘the bad guy’ and sees his actions as a means to an end. He is often secretive and can be somewhat of a trickster, but is honest and direct. He is headstrong, persistent and passionate. Getta downright refuses to accept authority and has a stubborn belief in himself and his dreams. 

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Master of Chicago Seethe 

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Blood with Pepper and Business

Two Dislikes: Vampire Movies and Bananas 

Two Fears: Being Forced to Feed Off of Himself and Naked Zombie Grandmas 

Two Hobbies: Enhancing the Underground and Inventing 

Three Positive Traits: Innovative, Lively, Extremely Confident  

Three Negative Traits: Sassy, Maniacal, Disconnect 

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Ulfrik Göransson (Father): Getta enjoyed his father and if he had been given the chance he would have changed him into a vampire.

Bon’Ginnever (Mother): Getta doesn’t remember much about his mother beside the fact that she had blonde hair and an unusual eye color. Bon’Ginnever died from an infection. He was sure it was over the loss of Aleigha, his little sister. She was never the same after and death took her months later.

Emmalee (Step-Mother): Getta didn’t approve of his father remarrying. Since Emmalee was around his age, Getta tried his best to ignore her to keep from showing her any disrespect and disappointing his father.

Sibling Names:

Eirikur Ulfrikson (Brother): Eirikur was born several years after Getta. Getta doesn’t remember much about Eirikur as a child but he remembers his little brother all grown up and being a ladies man. Eirikus died mysteriously in his sleep. Getta is now sure he must have caught an STD or something. 

Aleigha Ulfrikdotter (Sister): Just like Eirikur, Aleigha was born several years after her brothers. Getta was nearing his late teens when she was born. Sadly, Aleigha was sold off to pay their debts and Getta still has no idea what faith laid out for her.

Bryleigh Ulfrikson (Half-Brother): Getta was out of the castle when Bryleigh was born. Getta never had the chance to meet Bryleigh. He only knew his name and the random updates his father would send him.

Children Names:

Ulfric Scorpiusson (Son): Ulfric was named after Getta’s father, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Ulfric grew to be a spitting image of Getta’s father with the same attitude to follow it. That’s probably why they get along so well. Getta turned Ulfric, on his request, into a vampire on his 20th birthday. He is still alive and married with his own seethe in Sweden.

Bjorn Scorpiusson (Son): Bjorn was named after Solveig’s father, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Getta doesn’t know where Bjon got it from but he is absolutely unpredictable. He was well on his way to become a shadow vampire when Getta stepped in and killed him. Bjon was always Solveig favorite and Getta still mourns the both of them.

Kjersti Getta née Scorpiusdotter (Daughter): Kjersti was named after Solveig’s mother, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Kjersti was unexpected but wanted. Getta made sure she didn’t follow the same fate as Aleigha and kept her close. She was the 3rd person Getta changed and he doesn’t regret it. She now holds rank in his seethe.

Romantic Connections:

Solveig Pelledotter (Wife): Getta wasn’t in love with Solveig but at the time it was his duty to marry and continue his bloodline. After marriage, they became close friends. If given the chance, Getta was sure they would have eventually fallen in love. Solveig had taken her own life after Getta was changed.

Platonic Connections:

Alva Ebba Getta nee Garbo (Daughter-In-Law): Alva married Getta’s son Ulfric over a thousand years ago. At first he did not approve of her but thought a wedding would be good for overall morale. Over time Getta learned to love her as one of his own. Getta especially likes it when she puts his son in his place.

Geralt Getta (Son-In-Law/Progeny): Geralt was an orphan on the streets Getta fed from. Getta adopted Geralt and he was Getta's first vampiric progeny. Getta sees him more like a brother and best friend than a son, especially after Geralt married his daughter, Kjersti. 

Winona Fili (Progeny): Getta had originally turned Winona into a vampire for his son Bjon. He should have known better because the two hated each other. Frankly, after the way his son reacted Getta knew Winona deserved better. Getta still cannot accept that Winona is gone and is trying his hardest not to fall into a depression. Losing Winona was worse than losing a limb or death itself. Getta still expects her to be there when he turns around or wherever he gets a brilliant idea.  

Aleksander Mazur (Progeny): Getta found Aleksander when Aleksander was at his lowest on the streets of London. Aleksander tried to rob Getta and failed. Instead of killing him or turning him to the authorities, Getta fed him, gave him fresh clothes and offered him a new life as a vampire. They have a well built relationship that is not exactly a father and son type but close enough. 

Raphael Caron (Progeny): Getta saved Raphael's life. Raphael was dying from Leukemia when Getta gave his parents the terms and conditions of vampirism. Their relationship is stronger than ever nearly two centuries later. Getta enjoys Raphael’s creative side and allows him to use him as a test subject.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Progeny): Getta does not like sharing the story of how he found Fi but she has been with him since she was a 6 years old human. Getta held out on changing her into a vampire until she was mature enough. After living and dealing with Fi for centuries, nearly a millennium, Getta has turned from an overbearing father to a cool understanding brother and to a best friend. Getta can switch to whichever role she needs from him at the time without making it awkward.

Dan Prior (Vampire Son-In-Law): Getta couldn’t hate Dan if he tried nor can he blame Dan for Winona’s death. Dan's first few years were tough on Getta, he was the new master of his seethe, lost his closest companion and progeny, and had a suicidal baby vampire to watch over. Getta feels like Dan and Fili are the only things he has left of Winona. He has been better about separating them from her but something in him always feels like it's snapping when he does.  

Richard Fili (Vampire Grandson): Fili was changed by Winona many years ago. Getta has always been accepting of Fili and even fatherly at times. Getta puts up with Fili’s bullshit, only getting pissed if Fili messes up big time, and he knows that is enough to make Fili grateful and undeniably loyal. Fili seems to be the only one that has taken notice of Getta keeping himself busy and staring off into space since Winona’s death; Fili is worried for him but Getta isn’t ready to talk yet.

Audrey Ann Wallace (Vampire Granddaughter): Audrey was turned into a vampire by Garelt when Kjersti started mourning the loss of ever being a mother. Audrey reminds him a lot of Kjersti and can be mistaken as their biological child.

Petra Chak (Best Friend): Petra and Getta have an unlikely friendship. She had originally come to Chicago to take over Getta’s seethe for her own master but somehow Getta had won her over. Over the years they formed an unbreakable bond and Getta trusts Petra with his life and the lives of their entire seethe. 

Sadie McCoy (Good Friend): Sadie randomly showed up one day… Or at least Getta finally noticed her and was too ashamed to ask anyone who she was or where she came from. Sadie hung out with Winona and by default hung out with Getta. It didn’t take long for him to grow fond of her and to constantly want her around. She became his muse and little soldier girl. She took Winona’s death as hard as Fili, Dan and Getta’s other progeny.  

Morana ‘Ana’ Vickors (Old Friend): Ana was a part of Getta’s seethe before he became the seethe master. She saw the destruction their old seethe master caused and quickly jumped on his support train when he took over. Getta considers her a trusted and loyal friend. Getta is also close to Ana’s husband and daughter. 

Sven (Old Friend): Getta met Sven a few times in Europe and again in the New World. Sven was always a loner and some considered him to be a feared shadow vampire. It took Getta a while but he convinced Sven to join the seethe he was apart nearly 300 years ago. Sven came and went as he pleased but Getta is happy to see that lately Sven has been making a permanent home for himself in Chicago. 

Chiara Ricci (Friend): Getta knew Chiara’s adopted vampiric parents. When he asked them to come teach for them, he was aware that they had changed a woman to be their child but never figured it would be someone with Chiara’s personality. She makes Getta laugh and can retell stories about himself better than he can. 

Hostile Connections:

Nick and Ray Hamelin (Hate): Getta doesn’t hate easily nor does he have a vindictive streak but the Hamelin brothers live to test his restraint. Vampires are not widely liked among the mortal supernaturals and Getta understands that. What Getta doesn’t understand is why the rats are constantly trying to enter the closed section of the Underground or why the rats cannot leave them in peace. After the poisonous gas accident Nick and Ray attacked the Underground killing multiple orphaned and neonate vampires. Getta was tempted to retaliate but put the entire seethe needs ahead of his own. He and Petra have tried to explain that the closed section of the Underground is semi poisonous but their pleads have gone unheard. 

Pets:

None

→ History Scorpius Getta was born Göran-Skorpionen Ulfirkson. He changed his name to Scorpius Getta after he was changed into a vampire and a widower. He no longer wanted to associate with his human past and this was especially so after changing all of his biological children to vampires also. Getta travelled the world, finding those he bonded with or those he thought deserved another life and changing them. → The Present Getta plans on expanding the Undergrounds and opening an above ground full service Hotel made especially for vampires. The only thing holding him back are key features and trusted human or supernatural construction workers. The key features are shutters and windows that completely block out the sun which are currently out of reach. Getta has already begun employing witches and warlocks to help, and his dreams seem closer to reality. Getta plans on naming it Hotel Winona. 

[illadib-blog]

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[crescentdream24]

Chance Encounters

Fandom: Star Trek Alternate Original Series

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Dr. Mccoy x Reader.

Prompt: Literally just a random little fluff piece. How reader and Dr. Mccoy meet and get together aboard the Enterprise

Rating: T+

Warning(s): mild injuries, nothing major

Chance Encounters

You fell in love with the Enterprise the minute you stepped foot aboard her with the rest of the new recruits. The sleek lines of the ship were breathtaking as it was from the outside, but on the inside it was even more than you could have ever imagined. The bowels of the ship literally hummed with life—instruments gleaming and the crew bustling about in a way that resembled some sort of uniform chaos. For everything going on through every ship deck, it all had a purpose, everyone had a duty to perform. And now you were there to carry out a duty of your own.

The first few weeks were the hardest, as you’d expected. Everything was new and very real---no more simulations like you were used to back at the learning academy. It felt like you were introduced to a hundred new faces with a hundred new names in a matter of hours, and you were terrible with names. You were given a quick ship’s tour that glossed over many important areas which left you scrambling to find your own personal quarters at the end of the day. The food on board was hit or miss--- the food replicator could only do so much, and its version of chicken noodle soup left much to be desired.

But you quickly found solace in your work, living out most of your hours in one of the many laboratories aboard the ship. You delighted in wearing your science- blue uniform, and felt a sort of humble pride bubble up within you for all you had accomplished.

Even more exciting than finally being on the Enterprise in person, was the fact that you were now working on the Enterprise. You got to dive head-first into categorizing all the fresh samples of flora and fauna sent down to your lab from various away missions, testing soil samples and blasting open several rocks with a high-powered laser. Everyone you worked with was just as enthusiastic about their work as you were, and you made many fast friends with the crewmates that you shared your shifts with.

A few months into your first year on the ship, you made your way down to the science lab you were scheduled for that evening, trying to stifle back a yawn half- heartedly as you strode down the deserted hallway. Evening shifts were your least favorite. You’d always considered yourself a night owl back on Earth, but these last few months in space had been proving you wrong. You thought it was funny that even though there was no natural sunlight to queue your brain into when it was morning or night, it still took its cues from the brightness of the interior ship lighting, which dimmed noticeably in the evening hours to help keep the appearance of a day and night cycle.

Rounding the corner, you stood in front of the entrance to the science lab, pausing for a few seconds to punch in your keycode and letting the doors pull back automatically to admit you. You entered and stood there a moment, taking in the sight of the lab, the polished instruments glimmering under the overhead lights like jewels. You would never tire of working here, not in a million years.

You nodded your hello to the only other crewmate in the lab, a slim brunette about your age whom you’ve worked with a few times before. Her name was Rochelle, and she was timid but quite clever once you got talking to her. It was a person you didn’t mind having on the night shift with you----you weren’t especially talkative in the evenings, anyway.

Making your way over to the far wall of the lab, you awakened the touch screen panel that was mounted to it, calling up your shift schedule for the next week. It was the duty of each crewmate to double-check their work assignments for the following week in case there were any errors. Your eyes took in the schedule, expecting it to show you stationed at your regular post here in the lab as usual, and you were----except for one day in the middle. Away mission.

Your eyes widened as you re-read it. Away mission? But the captain of a starship usually didn’t bring anyone planet-side until at least their second year of active duty if they could help it. A ball of tangled nerves settles in your stomach, and you turn away from the screen, looking out into the lab but not fully registering it.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Rochelle is looking up at you from her microscope, sensing your mood change.

“Oh....yeah. I just, uhm. I saw that I'm slated for an away mission next week.” You swallow down some bitter saliva, trying to wrap your head around it.

Rochelle puts down the glass slide she was inspecting and nods in understanding. “I heard Mr. Spock discussing it in the hallway briefly when I passed by him and the Captain yesterday. They decided to choose you because of your past history with the planet.....I think it’s called Vater Epsilon V?”

Your heart begins to pound as the pieces finally fall together in your head. Your father had done considerable mining on the planet for several years and you had accompanied him in your youth. The trip was actually what you credit for sparking your interest in intergalactic space travel as a career path. It had been a wonderful trip that you look back on fondly; so many new things to experience. It hadn’t been without its danger though---most of the vegetation on the planet was extremely poisonous to humans if ingested or even with contact to the skin for a short period of time. You and your father had been in the mines for most of the trip, so there had been little danger. But, the locals have given you both a detailed tour of the area and you had read up on the planet even more on your return home. You assume your expertise of the planet is the reason you were being chosen. But it didn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.

“Right, that must be it. I’ve been there before, actually.”

Rochelle’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Really? That’s so exciting.” You make your way over to the station beside her, washing your hands and donning your work goggles, trying to put your nerves behind you. You tell Rochelle all about your trip as you remember it, and you two work away the hours quickly until your shift is almost over.

“Wow, I can’t believe we’re almost done for the night.” Rochelle says as she checks the time read-out on the console beside her. “It hasn’t even felt like.......” Her voice trails off and you look up at her, seeing that her skin is now startlingly pale.

“Rochelle?” She doesn’t answer you and wobbles unsteadily. Your instincts take over and you spring into action, taking a large step towards her as her knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, steadily guiding her to the floor with your arms as she faints. You remember your training about falling with the person that’s fainting instead of trying to catch them. Guiding them to the floor instead of trying to stop the fall altogether and potentially hurting you both.

You lay her on her back, and her head lolls to the side, eyes closed. Trying to shake her awake gently yields no response. You shout her name as your fingers urgently such for a pulse against her neck, finally covering over one of her carotid arteries. The pulse beat feels steady underneath your fingertips, and you relax slightly although not enough to calm your own frantic heartbeat, backing away towards the comm unit on the wall to hail a medical team to come assist you.

They arrive a few moments later with a stretcher in tow, and you recount what happened to one of the nurses on the team as they carefully load Rochelle and carry her to the sick bay. You follow them, not wanting to leave your friend when she’s in such distress.

The bright lights of the medical bay are startling contrast to the dim light of the hall, and you blink a few times as your eyes re-adjust. The bay is mostly empty, rows of beds lining one wall off to your left with larger cubicles surrounded by privacy curtains on the other side. The medical team transfers Rochelle to a med bed and you stand back to give them room as they work, quickly hooking her up to the vital signs monitor mounted overhead. The sound of her steady heartbeat fills the room as the team clears away, leaving only a nurse to attend to her for the moment.

“What’s going on out here, Nurse?” A rough voice breaks through the relative silence of the sickbay and you turn your head to see a dark-haired man stride into the room to stand at Rochelle’s bedside, ignoring you altogether. He’s clad in medical blues and his eyes are already assessing her, retrieving more information in one quick glance than the nurse would ever be able to tell him. The nurse gives him a run-down on her vitals----all normal except for the blood sugar levels.

He runs a quick scan with his handheld tricorder, hovering it just above Rochelle’s body in a slow, steady motion. His eyes are intent and laser-focused, and you sense he’s taking in every minute detail of her condition in a way only achieved by years of experience. You listen to the low beeps of the tricorder and swallow, wanting to add something to the conversation but feeling strangely intimidated at the moment.

“I...I was working with her when she fainted,” you start as the doctor continues scanning. “I noticed she’s wearing a medical bracelet. I believe she’s a diabetic.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked up at you then, and you’re startled by them. You’ve seen hundreds of people with dark eyes like his before, but none of them had ever seemed so....brilliant.

“Did she hit her head when she fell?” He asks you as he sets down the tricorder, walking over to a medicine cabinet a few feet away as the nurse prepares a hypo needle.

“No, I got to her in enough time to ease her fall. And her pulse seemed steady when I checked for it. She just wasn’t responsive.”

He grabs a vial out of the cabinet, handing it to the nurse as he turns to face you again. “Are you medically trained?” He asks offhandedly, raising an eyebrow. You swallow again, wondering if you did something wrong. Shifting on your feet you shake your head. “No, just the basic Starfleet training.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you as he makes his way back to Rochelle and the nurse passes him the hypo, injecting it swiftly into her upper arm. You watch with worry in your stomach, hoping that her condition would be easily remedied. Diabetes nowadays was easily controlled with a simple daily pill and a strict diet, but you had read during your studies at the Academy about how serious a condition it had been in the past. People used to need constant insulin injections and daily blood tests centuries ago to remain stable. It still wasn’t anything to mess with today, either.

The nurse leaves to tend to the other few patients in the medical bay, and the doctor finally looks up at you again, his hard expression softening somewhat. “You did great. She is diabetic, her sugars were just out of wack there. That hypo should set her right again, but she’ll probably sleep for a few hours now.”

“So, she’s going to be okay?” you add hopefully.

“Most definitely.” He had a pleasant Southern twang to his voice, one that inexplicably put you at ease. “You did exactly the right thing.” He went to leave but paused, turning back on his heel. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh,” you put a hand on the bedrail in front of you. “It’s Y/N.” You inspect the insignia on his blue medical uniform. “And I’m assuming you’re the CMO?”

He flashes a tight-lipped grin, only for a moment. “Unless there’s someone else here claiming to be chief medical officer. If there is, you send ‘em to me. Name’s Mccoy.”

Your mouth twists up into a smile as he continues. “I better get back. No rest for the weary.” He nods his head towards you once, looking down to pick up the tricorder and inclining it towards Rochelle. “And your friend there is damn lucky you were workin with her tonight.” He adds as he leaves, making his way into one of the exam rooms on the other side of the med bay. You realize you’re still smiling awhile after he’s gone, and you shake your head abruptly. Time for bed.

OOOOOO

You quickly slung the slim utility belt across your hips as you stood just outside the transporter room, preparing for the away mission you were about to embark on in a few minutes. Mentally, your brain did one last run-through of checklist-- your phaser was set to stun, you had all your scientific supplies safely tucked away along with your scientific recorder, and you had brushed up on your knowledge of the planet in the days prior so you would feel prepared. You’d checked all the boxes and anticipated every scenario. So why were you standing there shaking like a leaf?

Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself, you finally bite the bullet and step into the transporter room, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock already standing on their respective transporter pads. You give a quick nod to both of them. “Captain. Commander.” Spock returns your nod.

“Ensign Y/N.” The captain regards you carefully. “I’m betting your knowledge of this planet will come in handy. Initially, it was supposed to be a quick stop for some supplies from the mines, but there’s a group of villagers that have come down with what looks to be Andronesian encephalitis that we need to check out first.” He flips on his communicator, testing its signal strength. “And Starfleet would love to get its hands on some more information about what makes those poisonous plants so potent.”

You nod, trying to will away the unsettled fluttering in your stomach. “I’m quite familiar with the area we’ll be transporting to. I’ll try my best to collect some worthwhile environmental samples.” You step up to the transporter, standing just to the left of the captain and a security officer, who offers you a tight smile. You assume this is the entire landing party when you hear the doors open again in front of you. Dr. Mccoy rushes in, a look of annoyance clearly written across his face. You feel your heart skip unexpectedly.

“Do you really need me for every god-damned planet-side escapade, Jim?” He quickly slung his tricorder across his shoulder, hopping up on the transporter pad near the other side of the Captain.

“I believe the chief medical officer is a vital member of the landing party when the natives of such planet are afflicted with ailments they are otherwise unfamiliar with.” Spock’s statement of fact was met with an eyeroll from the doctor.

“It wouldn’t be any fun without you, Bones.” Kirk smirked, clearly enjoying the frustration of the CMO.

The transporter energized then, and you experience the familiar odd, fuzzy sensation spread throughout your body along with a split-second of darkness to your vision that always puts you on edge. Suddenly, you find yourself standing on a patch of grass in the middle of a heavily-treed area, feeling the sunlight pour in from the sky above and relishing in its warmth. You’ve missed being outside on solid ground.

“Could they have picked a deadlier place for us to beam in?” Mccoy looked around warily, and you immediately recognized his concern. On Earth, a place like this would be harmless, even sought-after. But here, most every tree and bush held some amount of venom, and your group would have to tread very carefully.

“Alright, crew.” Kirk began, completely ignoring Mccoy’s disdain. “Y/N will lead us through until we hit the village which should only be a half-hour walk to the east.” Kirk glances over at you from over his shoulder. “Ready?”

You press your lips together, taking in a big inhale. “Yes, sir.” Carefully, you step ahead of the group and slowly begin to pick your way through the trail flanked with dense foliage on either side, avoiding all contact with the more lethal plants. Your mind is honed in on the path in front of you, eyes taking in every new area of greenery you encounter and analyzing their respective dangers in your head. Soon, you make it to another clearing and the group decides to take a short break to cool off from the mid-morning heat.

You take a small handheld recording device off your belt and decide that this would be a good time to try and collect a few environmental samples to analyze later. As you cautiously kneel down next to a gathering of particularly lethal shrubs, a shadow falls over you and you tilt your head up, seeing Dr. Mccoy duplicate your posture beside you.

“I guess saving your co-workers on nightshift isn’t the only thing on your resume.” His lips cock up to one side as he regards the plants in front of you warily.

You give a light chuckle as you slowly pass the recorder over top a thick violet-colored shrub. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an everyday thing. I’m trained in the sciences, not medicine. Although I do have an interest in it. My mother was a nurse.” A question suddenly pops into your head and you blurt it out. “What made you get into medicine??”

He snorted, resting a hand on his knee. “I guess certain people would say it was a “calling.” After you see the world kick people down enough times, a part of you gets fed up and wants to help.” You take in his answer as you quickly skim over the readout on your recorder. His character was so gruff and off-putting on the outside, but you sensed that his inner workings held a deep sense of duty and rigid moral character that you wanted to learn more about. You’d been told in the past that you were a good judge of character, and you had a nagging suspicion that this doctor held one as solid as any other.

“Hm, so that explains the doctor part.” You shift slightly, reaching out to hover the recorder over a small outcropping of rock. “What about the Starfleet part?”

He smirked again. “I feel like I’m in a courtroom here with all this questioning. Anyone ever tell you you’d make a damn good detective?”

“I’m just curious, is all,”you intone innocently.

“Well, I’d about had it with being on Earth. Living in space seemed new and exciting. Don’t really have much tying me to the ground, I figured I might as well be tending to aliens and saving Kirk and Spock from themselves. That’s practically a full-time job right there.”

You laugh out loud and your eyes meet, briefly pulling your mind away from your work. “You must have the patience of a jungle cat to deal with that every day.”

You start to feel a tickle on your hand and look down, seeing some sort of insect crawling across your knuckles, about the size of a horsefly. You recognize it as a pill beetle, nothing to be too alarmed about, although you remember from your research that it does pack quite a painful bite. You slowly shake your hand up and down, hoping to shoo it away. Your grasp on your recorder slips, and on instinct you try to catch it. The sudden movement startles the beetle and a strong pinch drills into the top of your hand.

“Ugh!” You drop the recorder in the bushes as the beetle flees into the sky, feeling the sting of the bite quickly grow in intensity. You sink onto both knees, holding your injured hand as a few drops of blood escape between your fingers.

Dr. Mccoy reaches out for your hand instantly, pulling it towards him to inspect. “What was that? Do you know what bit you?”

“Yesss...it was a---” You suck in your breath as the sting of the bite rises exponentially with each passing second. The literature you read about this bite greatly underestimated its intensity. “It’s a pill beetle.....it’s not....lethal.” You hiss through your teeth, trying to keep your composure but the pain is racing through you like fire along a tightrope.

Mccoy gently turns your hand over in his grasp and bends over to the side, quickly flipping open his small medi-kit and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. The sting of the alcohol amplifies your pain and you feel tears spring up, gritting your teeth and cursing your stupidity. You were supposed to be the expert around here, and in your first ever away mission you managed to get bitten by a worthless beetle that now had you almost sobbing on the ground.

“I know, it hurts, I know,” he tries to soothe you as he applies a slim medicated bandage across the bite. “This is infused with a numbing agent, it should help with the pain a little bit. Just give it a second to work.” He presses his thumb on top of the bandage, then slowly rubs it back and forth with light pressure, trying to aide the release of the medication from the bandage.

You try to hold it together, but the fire in your veins is only ramping up and you feel a sweat coming on, wondering if the beetle had injected some sort of venom along with its bite. “I---ughhh! This isn’t going away.” You bow your head and try to focus on something else, anything else. He draws your other hand into his and grips it tightly, trying to draw your focus away from the burning sensation of your wound and you bite your lip.

“I know it hurts, darlin’. You’ll be okay.” The drawl of his voice calms you slightly as he grabs out a small travel hypo, hurriedly loading it with a clear liquid. “Here, give me your arm.” You slide closer to him and he injects you with it so swiftly you’re barely even aware of the pinch. You instantly notice the drug kick in as it works to dull the sharpness of the pain. Slowly, your body relaxes until the burning fire is nothing more than a dull throbbing. Still quite noticeable, but much improved.

You let out a big sigh of relief and look up at him with gratitude as the tension begins to leave your body. “Thank you....so much. That was...unpleasant.”

He gives you a soft smile. “All in a day’s work. You let me know if it starts to feel any worse, alright?” He still has your hand in his grasp, and you stay in that position for a few moments longer, letting the relief flow through your veins like cold water on a hot summer’s day. The warmth of his thumb radiates into the top of your hand as it continues to firmly trace over the bandage. You watch as he strokes your hand, marveling at how someone so rough around the edges could be so gentle. You would willingly stay like this for a few hours but soon you reluctantly pull your hand away, nodding at his instruction wordlessly.

You both stand together to go meet up with the others, and you have a hunch that the medication isn’t altogether responsible for your sudden good mood.

OOOOOOO

The long streams of distorted starlight streak across the blackness of space as you idly watch from a small circular viewing port, worshipping the sight of the ship in warp drive. It always amazed you that you and all the other crew aboard felt exactly the same no matter how fast the Enterprise travelled, and could only begin to imagine what the crew of the first ship to enter warp would have felt. Enraptured? Terrified? Probably a mix of both.

The cozy seating area off the mess hall was empty, as it usually was at this late hour. You had found this little haven tucked away from it all a few weeks into your first month of duty, and ever since you sought it out quite often, especially when you felt particularly reflective as you did now.

With your arms crossed lightly, you leaned a shoulder against the space-grade glass of the viewport, looking out into the stars that were especially illuminated tonight in the dim interior lighting of the ship. Your mind wandered, thinking of your family and wondering how everyone back home was doing—there were quite a few friends you had left behind, but only a few you actually missed. You would give anything for one of your father’s hugs or a bite of your mom’s homemade casserole right about now.

“I see you’ve found one of the hidden gems of the ship.” A male voice breaks the silence behind you and you turn to face the dark brooding eyes of the doctor. You sense your pulse excite as if on cue, giving him a slightly startled look.

“Oh, I didn’t.....yeah, well. S--sometimes I come here...just to think and look out at the stars.” You stutter as you lean against the wall again, facing him this time. He comes nearer to the viewing port, looking out into the abyss of starlight. He’s quiet for a moment, as if marveling at the wonders of space himself.

“No matter how many times you look at it, it never gets any less breathtaking.” His eyes flick over to you then, and you feel a slight flush wash over you, as if his words are meant for you and you alone. He always had a way of making everything sound so intimate, with that warm southern drawl.

You clear your throat softly, trying to dispel some of the butterflies in your stomach. "It's easy to forget where we are, easy to get caught up with other things while we’re busy working. So, I like to come here to remind myself.” You turn your head to look out again, sliding a bit closer to his side. He nods at your comment and you both stand in silence for a moment as you take in the view from the viewport, relishing in a shared appreciation for where you both are.

“Hurtling through space in nothing more than a tin can,” he says with his voice low, almost to himself. Finally, he looks down at you. “How’s that hand treatin’ you?”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and takes your hand gently, pulling it toward him to examine as he runs a thumb over the ridge of raised skin where the small scab has formed over the imprint of the insect bite.

“It’s good. Finally starting to heal.” Your mouth goes dry at his touch and you swallow as your pulse races to life again. It has a funny little habit of developing a mind of its own whenever you and the doctor are alone like this. You can feel the tremor of your heart’s increased pace against your ribcage, as if fighting to break free.

You expect him to let go of your hand but he continues to drag his thumb back and forth across it and you perceive yourself inching closer to him—almost unconsciously, drawn in by the gentleness and warmth of his touch.

His hazel eyes flick from your mending wound back up to your face, holding your stare intently. “You know, space is a pretty dangerous place,” he utters slowly. “I better keep my eye on you.”

You suck in a small breath, sensing your heart about to ram itself clear across the room. “I’d like that.”

His other hand lightly presses to the small of your back and you step in closer to him, tilting your head up as he bends down slightly to meet you. You feel your eyes begin to flutter closed as you place a hand on his chest, and the drumming of your heart in your ears so loud you’re almost certain he can hear it.

The piercing wail of the klaxon suddenly screeches out through the halls of the ship, and the bright red alert lights flash to life. You open your eyes abruptly and Mccoy drops your hand.

“Damn,” he curses softly as your face falls in disappointment, your other hand dropping away from his chest. The red flashes of the alert bounce across his uniform and a few crewmen quickly dash past you both.

“Go.” You urge him, fighting against the strong desire to stay exactly where you are together for the full entirety of the alert. “Be safe,” you manage to add, trying to fight down a wave of uneasiness.

You go to turn away and make a run for your emergency posting, but his grip at your arm stops you, facing you back to him.

“We’ll finish this....later.” His voice is full of meaning and promise, and you feel your heart skip yet again as you afford him a soft smile of hope in return. You sense the grip he has on your arm gradually slip away and both of you reluctantly turn in opposite directions to answer the insistent wailing of the klaxon.

You dash down the hallway, careful to avoid colliding with other crewmates as everyone rushes to their posts as orderly as possible. You had to respond to a red alert only one other time before, and it hadn’t lasted very long. It had been scary at first, the sheer suddenness of it, but after the initial shock and boost of adrenaline faded away, everything had kind of calmed down, and you expected it to go that way again. Captain Kirk was one of the best captains in all of Starfleet, and you had complete and utter faith in him.

Racing around a corner, you make your way toward the other side of the ship, trying to calm yourself a bit in the process. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary yet, but you can’t quite shake the imposing heaviness of dread that was now settling in your stomach. You silently will your feet to keep up their pace as you pass a few more crewmen heading for the turbolift behind you, both in security red. Are they going to the bridge? Maybe something’s happening up there....

Without warning, the Enterprise forcefully pitches to one side and you tumble into the wall, jamming your shoulder harshly. The hum of the warp engines intensifies over the cry of the red alert as they work overtime to compensate, and the rattling of the hull echoes around you. You try and continue your way down the hall but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against the force of an unbalanced ship. After a few seconds, you feel everything begin to steady back out and slowly take a breath, not realizing you’ve been holding it in this entire time.

You pass through the end of the hallway into the open deck that runs overtop the engineering room, connecting to the rest of the ship deck farther down. It has waist-high railings on either side, and you can see the Enterprises’ inner workings in a glance as your race across the deck, hearing frantic voices shouting out orders from down below. Suddenly, the ship is pitched to the side again and your eyes widen in panic as you lose your footing and slide towards the railing. The drop from this deck would be several stories high, something you have absolutely no intention of experiencing. You see a few other crewmates scramble in front of you to keep their balance as you all slide for the railing, but fortunately everyone manages to brace themselves against it, including you. The overhead lights flicker a few times, and the engines roar in your ears as they’re brought up to their full potential.

The ship slowly begins to steady out once again, and you loosen your death- grip on the railing at your side, cautiously starting to make your way back to the middle of the deck.

A deafening crack echoes down through the hall behind you and the ship abruptly heaves. This time, you are un- prepared and you tumble back towards the railing full force, the right side of your ribcage making full-on contact with the unyielding metal as your body tries to bend in half around it. You gasp out in pain as both your hands shoot out to clamp down on the rail, stopping yourself from being tossed clear over to the other side and down into the engineering room. Another crew member isn’t so lucky and you hear his anguished scream as his body is flung off the steep drop of the deck.

You’re breathing in and out in raspy gasps, panic spreading through your veins as you try to keep your hold. Your ribcage is screaming out at you from the blow to the railing and you slowly sink down to your knees, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you before. You feel your legs quiver in your boots and you try to steady yourself once again, rationally reminding your brain that you have to perform your duty and get to your emergency post. The ship has steadied for the moment, but you don’t trust it this time, giving it a few more seconds before you dare to stand back up. You claw yourself across the railing, pulling yourself upright, and you realize you’re in one of the most dangerous places on the ship right now. As long as you make it to the end of the deck and back into the hallway, you’ll be in way better shape than you are now.

You decide to make a dash for it and run as fast as you can down the deck, trying to push the anguished scream of the crewman out of your head. Your ribs burn daggers through your uniform as you run, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fractured a few. An image of Dr. Mccoy flashes through your mind and you wipe it away as soon as it appears, not wanting to acknowledge your mounting fear for his safety.

The wail of the klaxon abruptly ceases, and the red flashing lights turn to ones of cautionary yellow. You halt your run as you enter the hallway, a huge sigh of relief escaping you as you lightly cover over your ribs with one hand, taking a moment to calm your breathing. We did it. We survived.

OOOOOOO

You had decided to wait until the night after the red alert to make your way up to medical, knowing that Mccoy and all the rest of the med staff would have their hands full of injured and critically wounded. The ship had come under a surprise attack and one of the upper decks had received some heavy damage, and there had been a few casualties. But you knew for certain that the CMO hadn’t been one of them, and for this you were relieved beyond words. As happy as you were that disaster had been averted, the nagging tenderness across the right side of your ribcage had only gotten worse as the day passed, and you could barely lift your arms above waist level while working your day shift at the lab. Now that your shift was over, you decided that it was time to seek out some proper medical attention.

You rode the turbolift up to medical, wincing as you reached out to indicate your desired floor on the touch panel. The doors slid open and you made your way gingerly into the brightly lit med bay, cupping a hand lightly across your ribs to help contain some of the discomfort. You saw that most of the med beds were currently occupied, with several nurses making their rounds, arms full of medical supplies. Some patients looked almost fit enough to jump up and walk out, while there were a few others with privacy curtains drawn carefully around their beds.

One of the nurses spotted you and immediately recognized the look of pain written across your features. She hurriedly guided you over to an examination room and drew the privacy curtain, sitting you down on the stiff exam table to give you a quick once-over. When she was satisfied that you weren’t in any immediate danger, she straightened up. “I’ll go get a doctor for you.”

You nod in thanks and she leaves, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind her. You wonder if you would be lucky enough to have Dr. Mccoy examine you, and feel a certain level of anxiety to think that it could be someone else. Sure, your mother had been a nurse, but that didn’t mean you were completely at ease when it came to your own medical visits. You were sure that all the doctors on the Enterprise were perfectly capable to handle your situation, but you knew none of them would do it with the care and understanding of the chief medical officer. You felt a small wave of panic swell in your gut and you swallowed it down, even though you could feel your nerves getting the best of you. Especially now, when your entire right side was throbbing incessantly, seemingly getting worse with each passing hour. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to fear there was more extensive internal damage than you first thought. You pressed your left hand overtop the area again, hissing out from in between your teeth.

“No, no. It’s alright, I’ll see to her. You go take a break.” You hear a muffled voice from behind the curtain, and suddenly it’s pulled back roughly, revealing hazel eyes dark with intensity as he immediately starts to size up your condition.

“Dr. Mccoy,” you breathe out in relief.

He cocks up an eyebrow at you as he walks into the room, readying the medical equipment on the table beside the exam bed you’re perched on top of.

“That’s Leonard to you.” The hint of a smile traces over your lips as he picks up his tricorder and begins to pass it across your body slowly, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders.

“What happened here?” he askes curtly, attention focused on the readout of the tricorder.

“I fell into a metal railing during that alert yesterday. Right on top of my ribs....it’s been hurting pretty bad ever since.” You drop your hand away from your ribcage, wincing again as you accidentally twist your torso a fraction.

Your pained expression doesn’t escape his notice and he puts down the tricorder, stepping close in front of you. “Why didn’t you come up sooner?” His tone is accusatory and your gaze points down toward the white tiles of the exam room floor guiltily.

“Well, I figured you’d be pretty busy....I didn’t want to make anymore work for you. It wasn’t urgent....”

He shakes his head, and takes a small amount of antibacterial soap into his palm, rubbing it briskly into his hands. “I don’t care if half the medical bay is going up in flames, you come here if you’re hurt, you hear me?” The look in his eyes is stern, agitated that you let yourself go without proper care, and your heart rate accelerates.

You nod your head and his expression softens. “I just don’t want you to do anymore damage, is all. Lord knows we’ve got enough injured as it is.” He stands in front of you again, looking you in the eyes, assessing your condition.

“I want to get a good look at it now, mind if I lift this up?” He motions to your uniform and you nod wordlessly, bracing yourself for the pain that will inevitably follow. Before he touches your uniform, he places a light hand on your knee. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise you.”

“I know.” You trust him completely, but still dread the thought of getting your ribs poked at.

He carefully rolls up the edge of your blue uniform, all the way up until it hits the underarm. You move your arm forward a bit so he can look around it, and you can see the large, swollen bruising feathered along your side in the reflection of the mirror beside you. It’s a deep purple with blue hues around the edges, and you could have sworn it wasn’t that big when you’d inspected it yesterday. You hear the doctor curse under his breath softly as he examines you.

“Really, darlin’. You waited much too long.” he gently scolds you as he hovers a hand just above the afflicted skin. “May I?”

You nod again, steeling yourself as he lightly places a hand over top of your ribs. He starts up high and you can tell he is applying gradual pressure with his fingers, trying to find any weakness in the bone. The pain is uncomfortable but bearable so far, and you lean in closer to him a bit as you close your eyes, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the throbbing. His chest is directly in front of you and you wish you could lean your head against it.

“How’s this?” he asks, starting to slowly move his hand down your ribcage one rib at a time. “Here?” “It’s okay,” you answer as you feel the pain starting to intensify again.

“Here?” His warm palm encircles your bruise, just above the very middle, his fingers playing at your side with measured pressure.

“Getting worse,” you mumble, wincing again. He moves down half an inch. "Here?”

“Ah!--” You bend forward and hiss out an exhale, your left hand darting up to hold onto the blue cloth of his uniform shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes as his fingers nimbly dart across the tender area. “Just a bit more.”

Your fist balls up the cloth of his shirt as you grit your teeth, the pain searing across your right side like a bolt of lightning. Just as quick, his hand is gone and tugs your uniform back into place, looking down at you but not moving away.

“Looks like you got a few fractured ribs there. It’ll be painful for a while so you gotta take it easy.” His eyes are warm and re-assuring, and you feel the fire of your ribcage receding back to more acceptable levels. “I’ll try to do what I can with the regenerator but unfortunately it doesn’t have the best success rate when it comes to ribs. The easiest way for them to heal is still the old-fashioned way. Get plenty of rest.....and a “light duty only” order.” He sees your face fall a bit at that, knowing that most everyone aboard hated having limitations to their work duties. “And I want you to come see me every few days so I can make sure everything is healin’ like it should.”

You perk up a bit at that, and realize that you’re still holding the fabric of his uniform sleeve hostage in your fist. “Oh...I’m sorry,” you say as you slowly let go. He places a hand gently to your waist on your un-injured side and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not.” Faster than you can think, his head dips low and his lips find yours in a light kiss. You sink into his hold like melted butter, placing a hand on his chest as you kiss him back tenderly. Your eyes close and you take in the smell of him---a unique mix of coffee, medical sanitizer, and just a hint of cologne. Its an odd mixture but fits him perfectly and you sigh into his lips which are still pressing into yours.

Eventually you pull away for want of breathing, and your eyes lock, a lop-sided grin spreading across his face as he looks down at you. “Now Y/N, you don’t have to keep getting hurt just to see me.”

You chuckle up at him, shaking your head. “You have some ego on you, you know that?”

He squeezes your hip once and steps back, purposely ignoring your last comment with a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

You’re sitting in a stupor as he leaves, your mind racing so fast it’s practically blank. He re-appears in seconds, injecting you with a hypo carefully and giving you a small bottle of pills. “Take one twice a day and you’ll be feeling a whole lot better.”

You curl your fingers around the pill bottle, looking up at him with gratitude and more affection than you’ve ever felt for anyone. “Thank you....Leonard.”

He holds out a hand to help you off the exam table and you step down gingerly, wincing again but already feeling the positive effects of the hypo flow through you. “Now, let’s go give the regenerator a whirl there, darlin’. It should help you out a bit.”

Before you both step out of the exam room, he turns back to you and you stop, looking up at him in puzzlement. A warm hand finds your cheek, fingers splayed out under your ear and he kisses you again, except much deeper than the first time. Your mind is nothing but the streaking stars of space at warp speed as you return the kiss eagerly, enjoying the closeness you’ve ached for ever since you first saw him. His lips are tender but firm, making his feelings known to you in a way that makes your body crave the taste of him even more. After a long moment, you both pull away slowly, his hand still at the side of your face.

“That’s what I wanted to do ever since that damn red alert finished my thought for me.”

You smile up at him and he takes your hand, pulling open the curtain for you and gently guiding you back out into the med bay.

END

Thanks for the read!

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 25: 1x25 Devil in the Dark

This episode truly is one of the greats. Like I remember that about it, and yet it is also always even better than expected.

I forgot how many nifty 50s looking painted background this show had, but they’re really beautiful.

The Enterprise is coming to save the day!

Wow that random miner was right, his phaser was useless.

See, the Horta tried to destroy just the machines first; she was being very nice and reasonable.

Something “big and shaggy” lol. Well, I guess that’s sort of accurate?

Jim looked so smug when Ed Appel said he was tough. “Oh yeah I am, I’m tough and I have a big ship.”

Spock, stop playing with that egg! I know it’s very aesthetically pleasing.

I feel like Spock doesn’t like Vanderberg very much.

Acid monster!

I’m glad they explain why exactly this pergium stuff is important because otherwise it just looks like “well capitalism must go on” as opposed to “this resource is used to keep whole planets functioning and without it people die.”

What a smart Horta. Taking the machine that the mean people use to survive.

Spock legitimately seems so amused by this whole thing. I love that particular Spock attitude: fascinated and slightly detached.

I love Scotty. “Yeah, I can make that old, obscure, outdated part myself.” What a nerd.

Spock’s still thinking about that pretty purple ball.

Silicon based life, you say. That’s an interesting concept. Kind of forgot that was part of the whole Horta thing.

Phaser one and Phaser two.... what a good retcon of why they have two different phaser designs.

Spock finally gets to be right about stuff!

“You seem fascinated by this rock.”

“Dr. McCoy’s been mean enough to me today, I don’t want to say anymore.” Spock’s bullying flashbacks lol.

I distinctly remember a meme using this exact shot of Kirk and the line of red shirts and the line “I want no more deaths” in the subtitles.

I love these cave sets.

So they discover that the Horta would make very good tunnels for them.

It’s an ASBESTOS monster??? That didn’t age well.

The last of a race of creatures... to kill it would be a crime against science.

This is like the salt vampire but with a happy ending.

Kirk doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for random creatures, at least not in the abstract. He always wants to protect his people first.

I love that Spock was JUST TOLD they were going to kill it and then he's like "Yeah but what if we captured it instead don't tell the Captain?"

This scene is hilarious because it starts with Kirk telling Spock “who’s the Captain here?” and then very quickly pivots to Jim being protective of Spock, and then this comical interlude with the math, and then Jim just being really turned on by Spock and the math. A little amused but also really in love.

Did Jim... memorize the chart? He just knows where all the tunnels go.

The Horta looks kind of like an ugly muppet.

Jim acknowledging Vulcan telepathy/mind melding as a very personal and intimate thing for Vulcans, and very difficult, because it involves taking down mental barriers.... very interesting. Very, very interesting.

She’s in agony because you took a big old chunk out of her YOU HEATHENS.

Love that Kirk calls McCoy to care for “a patient” without specifying who it is lol.

I love McCoy’s face when he watches Spock meld with the Horta. Like he doesn’t know what kind of nonsense this is but he’s also impressed. Like “Spock and the Horta are So Dramatic...but that’s pretty cool he can do that.”

Kirk is ready to kill for the Horta.

As am I.

She’s the mother of her race... intelligent, peaceful, mild.

Lol at “why are they down here?” / “This is where they live!” Why do you think they’re done here, fool?

Jim is very fond of Bones too. He can cure a rainy day!

Also not to get into it but like I was legit thinking about Sevin a bit during that scene.

What a happy ending. Everyone gets what they want. A good partnership. Lots of little Hortas.

Most unbelievable thing about this episode is how Kirk and Bones pretend that they don’t understand why the Horta liked Spock’s ears.

Fuck this was such a good ep. Lots of Kirk being a great captain, ordering people around, coming up with plans, being authoritative, gathering information, but also caring about people, and aliens, defending the innocent, brokering peace. I loved the way he just knelt down and talked to the Horta when he found her. Just showing he was open to communicating.

And an excellent Space Husbands ep too. Like generally I don’t think they actually got together until post-5 year mission / TMP but this is one of those episodes that you could read as like an established relationship. Spock calling Kirk “Sir” a lot just to really conspicuously switch to “Jim” later. Two distinct scenes where they are being protective of each other. Spock’s “Screw science, kill it now” attitude when Jim is in danger.

Got some good triumvirate action in there too.

Good science fiction.

A story that is well plotted and well paced, without loose ends, and an ending that is satisfying both from a story telling and a...happiness point of view.

Cannot believe I’ve watched 25 episodes of Star Trek over roughly 25 weeks.

Next up is Errand of Mercy. The first Klingon episode, I guess? A good one, and an excellent K/S one, even if the Klingons are, in general, meh.

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - before

notes: hi. so, I’ve already uploaded this before, but I don’t think enough people saw it, or maybe it was just bad in general. I’m not sure. please let me know what you guys think, I need the validation :)

contains: swearing, canon-typical violence, hostages

pairing: peter parker + fem!o.c.

word count: 4.4k

next chapter tempest masterlist

MARIN WASN'T SURE WHAT BUGGED HER MORE—the annoyingly steady thumping of Oliver Hall's foot, or the weight of the side-eyed glares Lucy Webb kept aiming her way.

Decidedly, Marin met Lucy's gaze with equal intensity. "What?" She clipped, not meaning to sound so sharp, but heights tended to do funny things to Marin's stomach, and unless she wanted a second look at her lunch, she kept talking to a minimum.

Lucy pressed her full lips into a flat line, looking at Marin out of the corner of her eye until she slid her gaze forward. She adjusted her grip on her seat's straps. "Nothing."

Sensing the fire burning behind Lucy's eyes (a good, ironic pun, she commended herself silently), Marin waited patiently in her own seat to Lucy's right, watching as Lucy strung together words in her head. Unlike Marin, Lucy, admirably, was careful in what she said and how she said it—a great characteristic; exemplary of her leadership abilities, but completely inconsistent with the expected temperament that was typically associated with her mutant abilities. One would assume, with Lucy's ability to control fire, her personality would be complementary, but she was rather the exact opposite—mostly level-headed and calm. Marin could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the older mutant lose her cool (another pun, she thought, I'm on fire! Whoops, did it again).

"Do you think you're... prepared... for the mission?" Lucy finally asked after a while. She was being careful again, Marin could tell. Her eyes said it all—the blatant fear, the hesitation, the caution; it was a look Marin had seen in all the eyes of those who knew her—knew her story, at least—since she'd come to live at the Institute nearly nine years ago.

"I'm going to behave," she responded, narrowing her eyes. "Since I know that's what you're really wondering."

Despite her occasional censure of Marin's behaviors, Lucy was one of only a few other mutants whoever looked at her with anything other than suspicion. She supposed that meant Lucy was her friend—her only friend, really—and Marin was glad enough for it.

Lucy gave her a disbelieving look. "That's what you said last time, Marin. And your heroism nearly cost us Sanchez's life, and all the information he had on the Crimson Circle."

"I'm well aware." Marin huffed, jostling in her seat as the jet jerked through a pocket of turbulence. She flicked away a section of her bangs that had fallen into her eyes. "Besides, I think the three weeks of probation was more than enough punishment for me to learn my lesson on how not to treat criminals like people."

Lucy rolled her eyes at the sarcasm. No matter how many times Marin got in trouble, no matter how many punishments the doled out to her, Marin would never lose the stubborn streak she'd had since she came to the Institute. For reasons Marin couldn't understand, Professor Charles Xavier had yet to kick her off of the X-Men team, and she wondered just how far she could go before he lost his patience entirely.

Marin was ambiguous about her role as an X-Man. On the one hand, it gave her an opportunity to help people in ways she wouldn't be able to if she was stuck back at the Institute every day. It often felt that this was the only reason why she hadn't just quit the team herself. The X-Men were an elite team at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, and her position as one of ten total members put her in an uncomfortable sort of spotlight—one even more unnerving than being the center of gossip on what happened the night her powers were revealed.

(Which confused her, since most mutants tended to have gnarly origin stories, and Marin felt like she was no exception. But she knew what they said about her—what they say she did. None of it was true, and the Professor never addressed the gossip, so she never brought it up. She'd just figured he had no idea of what they said about her. Besides, tattling would do nothing but fuel the flames further. And anyway, it didn't bother her; she was a loner either way.)

Whatever today's mission was, it apparently required five members of the team, accompanied by two of the older mutants. Hank McCoy sat at the cockpit, showing Avery Cho sequences of button-pressing and flip-switching. The girl looked bored, popping her gum against her teeth as she copied Hank's movements by flipping and pushing with a nudge of her mind. Logan (she wasn't really sure if he actually had a last name) was standing at the back of the jet, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and sharp eyes observing his wards. Marin suspected he was only there to make sure she stayed in check, and the way his gaze seemed to train on her periodically confirmed her suspicions.

With nothing left to say, Lucy fell silent. The consistent drone of the jet speeding through the air was only disrupted by Oliver's tapping foot. Marin knew he couldn't help it; his super-speed made him constantly hyperactive, and she didn't think she had ever actually seen him stay still for more than a second at a time.

As she observed her surroundings, she noticed for the first time that Lucy sat unaccompanied, surprised to find James' usual seat (always right next to his girlfriend) empty. The couple was practically inseparable, joint at the hips in a perpetual honeymoon phase—even if they'd been together for three years now.

James was also telepathic, and Marin figured that if there was one person who should go on all missions, no matter how inconsequential, it should be the guy that could read and control minds. Not for the first time that day, Marin wondered what the mission was that they need to travel all the way to Queens for, and with half of the team, no less.

The last person Marin observed was Juniper Pierre, and as far as Marin knew, she'd only been at the Institute for little over a year, and that she could control plants or something. She was nice enough, though, from the few interactions Marin had had with her.

Feeling the lurching impact of the jet setting on the solid ground had a similar effect on jerking her out of her thoughts. She clicked her straps loose, standing with a stretch to regain feeling in her numb behind.

Everyone gathered around Lucy, who had taken head on the center of the now-lowered gangway ramp. She cleared her throat and began reading her exposition off of a small packet of folded papers she pulled from the inside of her X-Men jacket. "Witnesses reported seeing a flash of green light before calls were made into local responders after a neighbor noticed smoke coming from within the house. The sheriff department's lieutenant then contacted the Institute when he found our subject, Mary Tellers, aged seven, inside the home and abandoned by her parents— crying, but otherwise untouched by the fire. Lieutenant Collins informed us that when he tried to drag the subject out of the house, she emanated the same green light witnesses noted seeing earlier. Our best guess is energy manipulation, and we should tread with caution."

A weirdly heavy feeling settled in Marin's stomach, but the group was moving before she had a chance to contemplate as to why. She was still unsure why this recruitment mission needed so many people, but followed anyway.

Logan and Hank stayed behind as usual. Marin realized they'd landed the jet in a secluded plot of flat land that was surrounded by a thick layer of trees. According to her own smaller packet of information, which she referenced with a passing glance, they were heading to the police department located in Richmond Hill.

She wasn't sure exactly how far away they landed, but it took a solid twenty-five minutes for the group to reach the precinct. It must've looked strange, even for New York, to see a gaggle of teenagers dressed in matching blue and yellow leather jackets, approach the doors of the police department with varying levels of determination and severity. Marin was the last to enter the building, only pausing with her hand still holding the door open to let an officer pass through before she hurried along after the group.

They huddled into a small waiting room, where a little girl still covered in soot sat in a padded chair with her knees tucked up to her chest, wrapped in a light blue blanket. Next to her was whom Marin assumed to be the lieutenant. Lucy exchanged a few indeterminable words with him before turning to the girl.

"Hello," Lucy smiled kindly down at her, gently taking an empty seat beside her. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Mary Tellers," the little girl whispered, the missing front tooth giving her a slight lisp.

"That's a very pretty name." Lucy cooed. "My name is Lucy, and these are my friends: that's Oliver, and Juniper, and Avery, and Marin." She said, pointing to each in turn. "Can you tell us what happened this morning, Mary?"

Mary flicked her eyes hesitantly between each of them. "It's alright," Juniper spoke, her honey-smooth voice warm and gentle. "We're here to help you."

Mary nodded slowly, taking them in. "I don't kn-know, I came home from-from school and Mommy was putting clothes in a big suitcase, and Daddy said I had to go live with Na-Nana because they couldn't take care of me anymore, and I just—I just—" tears overcame her, and the little girl hugged her knees tighter as she buried her face into them.

"It's okay," Lucy shushed the girl—comforting her, but not touching her. If there was one thing all mutants collectively excelled at, it was dealing with people who had experienced trauma. "It's okay, Mary. You're not alone."

Mary eventually calmed down enough to pick her head up from between her knees, watching as Juniper approached her slowly, holding out a flattened hand so she could see a small daisy bloom in her palm.

"You're not a monster, Mary. You're a mutant." Lucy explained, the girl's eyes going wide. "So is Juniper, that's why she could grow that flower. We all are."

"Really?" She asked, and when everyone nodded in response, she seemed to calm down.

"There's a place where you can go and be safe to use your powers. That's where we all came from, and we would all love it if you came and joined us there. Would you like that?"

Mary nodded slowly, unfurling herself and standing on wobbly legs. Taking Lucy's hand, Mary was led out of the station with the rest of the group. By that time, the sun had begun to set, and the streets were surprisingly empty for a brisk April evening.

Barely five minutes had passed, and Mary was already starting to cheer up as Juniper popped out flowers one-by-one, so the two could fashion them into a braided crown.

Marin, once again, lingered behind, too caught up in her passing thoughts. The team had come to a relatively quiet intersection, only the occasional car passing them by.

The air was still and calm, but the tranquility shattered as a shrill scream rang out through the street, coming from behind them. Marin bristled, immediately alert and aware of her surroundings. Surprisingly, no one else seemed affected, as if they hadn't even heard the scream at all. No one else except Mary, who tugged on Lucy's hand.

"What was that?" Her lip quivered, the half-made flower crown shaking in her tiny hands.

"Oh, I'm sure that was nothing, sweetheart." Lucy responded with a saccharine smile, before giving the rest of the team a discreet jerk of her head that said 'we've got to go'.

Marin was shocked but not entirely surprised to see the rest of the group follow Lucy without hesitation. Marin watched their retreating backs frantically as the headed in the opposite direction of where the scream came from.

"So—we're just going pretend like we didn't just hear a woman screaming?" Marin blurted, causing everyone to turn and look at her. She noticed the glares they gave her, but she decided that she didn't particularly care; instead, she felt stunned that she was the only person concerned. "We're just going to ignore them, even if they probably need help?!"

"We can't do this now, Marin." Lucy clipped, making to grab Marin's wrist. But Marin twisted away, taking a couple steps back.

"No," she shook her head incredulously, gesturing around with her arms. "We—we've got to do something! We can't just abandon them!"

Lucy made up the difference in the distance Marin had put between them in a fraction of a second. The sudden close proximity to the heat radiating off of Lucy was stifling and caused Marin to drawback. "And why exactly do we have to do anything, Rain?" Lucy sneered Marin's horrendous code-name like it was a searing fire poker, branding painfully on Marin's flesh. She had made it obvious of her disdain for the name in the past—it had become a permanent reminder that she was stuck at the Institute, that she'd forever be an X-Man. (That, and it was kind of a hideous superhero name.)

"Don't call me that." Marin snarled back, clenching her fists. Her voice was sharp but pained, displaying obvious weakness to a trained ear. Lucy noticed, of course, because she quirked an eyebrow like Marin was challenging her (and failing, too, judging by the haughty weight in her eyes).  Marin inhaled shakily. "We—we're heroes, aren't we? I mean—isn't that what we should do? Go out and save—"

"No." Lucy snapped, her eyes glowing a vibrant orange with barely-controlled rage. Stunned by her sudden hostility, Marin cowered. It was there, in her eyes—a resentment too familiar to Marin. Lucy was supposed to be different, she thought pathetically. "We are not heroes, Marin Frost. We are mutants. And we are certainly not those irresponsible, arrogant fools playing dress-up and dropping cities out of the sky. We are not the Avengers—you are not an Avenger. Your stupid delusions that you are one, need to end now because you never will be."

Marin's breath seized in her chest, she felt like she was boiling from the inside out. As she glanced around at the others, Marin noticed that no one was coming to her defense. No one even looked sorry—just annoyed and impatient. They didn't care about her—it was a realization that, while not entirely surprising, still slammed into her like a fist to the solar plexus. Marin fought through the large hole of abandonment burning through her heart.

(She could still hear the distant cries for help.)

"Fine." She conceded with a choking sound, appearing defeated. As Lucy nodded and led the group away, no one bothered to see Marin's eyes scorch with bright defiance.

No one even noticed she was gone until they had climbed into the belly of the jet, and no one was there to trail in behind them.

+++

This was a bad idea. The worst she'd ever had, if Marin would admit it to herself (which, of course, she wouldn't).

She was already on thin ice with Charles after her last act of defiance, and she was positive that this was the last stunt she would pull as an X-Man. But she couldn't find it in herself to regret her actions, not when she could still hear those women screaming for help. She relished in the rush of adrenaline sweeping through her body as she followed the commotion to a bank down the street. She took only a few precious moments to catch her breath, yanking off her X-Men jacket and exposing her bare arms to the cool air. Digging through her jacket, she pulled out her reusable water bottle and unscrewed the lid for easy access. Despite the chill in the evening air, Marin flushed with slight perspiration.

Peeking around the corner from where she hid next to the building, Marin looked in the window, taking inventory of the people inside. Four men in ski masks, all carrying handguns; two women huddled in the furthest corner of the bank with one criminal keeping his gun trained on them, and one woman being held in the clutches of the center-most robber, his gun digging into her temple. The other two men had their guns aimed at... a boy, Marin assumed, wearing blue sweatpants (were those red knee-socks they were tucked into?) and a red hoodie, his arms waving minimally in the air. Was he... wearing a mask? And what were those chunky black things wrapped around his wrists?

Marin didn't know what this kid was doing walking around dressed like that in public, but she supposed that she was still technically in the city, and she knew the truths behind stereotypical city-dwelling crazies. Still, the masked weirdo was a hostage just as much as those women were, and with how his hand gestures kept getting increasingly more erratic, Marin didn't want to waste another second.

"Well, I must say that I'm disappointed I wasn't invited to the slumber party," She waltzed through the door, adopting a casual tone as to not startle the criminals and jeopardize the hostages' safety.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man holding the female hostage by the neck demanded, aiming his weapon at the boy, while the other two whipped theirs on Marin.

"That is... incredibly rude, sir." Marin tutted, taking small, careful steps toward the scene. The fabric of the ski mask shifted like he was scrunching up his face, most likely in confusion. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you and your buddies to leave this fine establishment."

The man scoffed, adjusting his grip on the gun. "You've gotta be kiddin' me."

"Afraid not, Mr. Criminal. I only kid on Tuesdays and Fridays exclusively, and today just so happens to be a Thursday." Marin sighed, continuing to inch towards them. "Now, why don't we let these nice women and... boy... go? Surely you'd rather things stay nice and clean so your face doesn't get any uglier than I'm sure it already is."

Curse her improvising ass. She always ended up insulting someone when she was on a roll, and to do it now was asking for trouble. She had a split second to realize that he turned his gun on her, but she was prepared enough to react. She flicked her hand up, summoning the water from inside her bottle and surrounding the bullet with it. Instantaneously, she turned the water to ice, trapping the bullet in midair and swatting it to the floor beside her, barely missing her head.

Silence fell over the room as everyone watched in astonishment.

"What the hell?!" Marin heard a voice cry out. Shifting her head to spare him a glance, the boy had his hands clutched to his head in shock. Were those goggles?!

In her moment of distraction, one of the extra thugs took the opportunity to strike, lashing out at Marin's forehead with the butt of their gun. She yelped in surprise but didn't have enough time to recover before the other man stepped forward and kicked her hard in the stomach.

Her breath flew out of her with a grunt, the force of the kick sending her sprawling back into a couple of chairs lined against the front wall. Just before she moved to right herself, red and blue flashed in the peripherals of her vision. She straightened as best as she could, clutching her stomach and determinedly ignoring the throb of pain radiating in her forehead.

To her complete and utter surprise, Marin found the boy in red and blue pajamas on the ceiling. What... the hell?

As he hung upside-down, somehow keeping himself attached to the stucco ceiling of the bank, he took turns fighting the three criminals that had gone to attack him. He lashed out only occasionally, letting the criminals to most of the work for him; ducking and dodging swings he couldn't have possibly seen, even out of the corner of his eye. Then, almost strangest of all, he shot out his hand and released a white fluid from the black thing on his wrist, attaching itself to one assailant's face.

What. The. Hell?!

Marin flipped her gaze over to the women, who were being corralled to the opposite side of the bank, away from the action, by the fourth criminal. As he shoved one of the women, Marin retrieved the shattered ice laying on the floor, turning it back into a liquid and gathering it in her hand. The man shoved the barrel of his gun into one of the women's face, so Marin thrust out her hand, using the water to snatch the weapon away. With expert precision from years of training, Marin released the magazine from the gun with one hand, and turned the water back to ice with the other. She chucked the sphere of ice at the man's head before he could react, knocking him out instantly.

A pained gasp yanked at Marin's attention. She pivoted to find the boy on the ground, curled into himself for protection as the three thugs took turns beating into him with whatever means they could use. They weren't using their guns on him—an observation that told Marin that they would rather drag out his pain and suffering than stop him from retaliating.

Marin felt her anger surge as she watched the boy take the beating. Images flashed against her vision: Lucy digging into her soul, ripping her psyche to shreds and reveling in it—watching as no one came to defend her—enduring the years of isolation and animosity—remembering the night her powers surfaced, seeing the look in her father's eyes as he—

The first thing she noticed as her vision began to return, and her mind began to clear, was the ringing in her ears.

"What the hell are you?!" A feminine voice exclaimed in terror. Marin blinked away the dark spots clouding her vision. What... what happened? Marin wondered, taking in the scene before her. The lights overhead were blown out, bathing the bank in darkness. The criminals were tied up, trapped to the floor under a blanket of whatever came from the boy's weird wrist gadgets, unconscious but alive. Marin glanced around, only to find the boy gone. Where was he?

Remembering who had spoken, she snapped her gaze to the women still cowering in the corner of the room. Her heart dropped when she saw the fear in their eyes. The adrenaline rushed out of her and she was left with nothing but exhaustion and the feeling that she was about to shatter into a million tiny pieces.

"I-I don't—I'm sorry, I—" Marin stuttered, and realizing she was still gripping the unloaded handgun, she dropped it like it had stung her. She stumbled, tripping over her feet as she crashed through the doors. She gulped down a shaky breath, the crisp air burning a path down her trachea. Her throat ached with the desire to cry as she reached to pick up her jacket where she'd left it lying in the alley next to the bank, and collapsed against the wall, taking heaving breaths to keep herself from crying.

Suddenly, just as she'd managed to settle her breathing, a figure jumped down in front of her.

"Holy shit, dude!" She yelped and would've lashed out instinctively if she'd had enough energy to even get up off of the ground. Instead, she only clutched at her chest and didn't get up from her spot in the dirt. "Give a girl some warning next time you leap from outta nowhere!"

It was the boy, hovering over her hunched figure like a cross parent lecturing their child. "What the hell is your deal, lady?!" He shouted, pointing vigorously down at her. Marin immediately went on the defensive.

She screwed up her face. "What the hell is my—you should be thanking me right now! I just helped you—"

"I had it under control!" He growled forcefully. "I didn't need your help!"

Marin scrambled to her feet, enraged. "Are you fucking kidding, dude?! Waving your arms around like that? You were basically a human neon sign, screaming 'hey, come and shoot me'! I saved your ass, and if I didn't intervene when I did, you probably would have been shot—or killed!"

"Well, your little light show almost did kill those criminals in there! Not to mention that those women could've been killed, too!" He fired back. Marin's expression closed up as she glanced away. She had no idea what he was talking about, and her head was throbbing too much for her to come up with a response.

As the two regarded each other in silence, Marin realized something. This wasn't just a weird dude dressed like he was going to Comic-Con—he had powers. She didn't know what the whole deal was with his wrist devices, but she recognized his enhanced sensory abilities—the way he could detect movement even out of his line of sight. Then there was the matter of him being able to stick to the ceiling. As she looked down at his chest, she noticed a design drawn onto the fabric with a black marker.

"Is that a spider?" Marin pointed to his chest.

Startled by the sudden change in tone, he glanced down at his chest. "Ye—yes, it's a spider!" He screeched. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm—I'm Spider-Man!"

That explained the white fluid—they must have been his version of spider webs. Marin cocked her head, thinking. "Hmm."

"What?!"

"I'm Marin."

"'Marin'? That's a weird superhero name."

"That's because it's my name, dingus."

Before he could respond, a throat was cleared. In front of them stood Logan, looking angry as hell with his claws out and on full display. Marin only gulped, but Spider-Man took a few frantic steps back.

"Shit," Marin's face twisted. "I'm screwed now, aren't I?"

"You're in real deep shit this time, kid," Logan grunted, obviously holding back his rage for the sake of the boy standing—well, behind her, now. "Say goodbye to your boyfriend, and get going."

"It was nice meeting you, Spider-Boy," Marin lamented, dropping to grab her jacket and water bottle. She muttered as she passed Logan, "And he's not my goddamn boyfriend, claws."

Logan grumbled a half-amused sound as he dragged her away, leaving a very disturbed young superhero in the darkness of the alley. Spider-Man grimaced to himself in disbelief.

"Spider-Boy?!"