#no more playing Tetris with my books!!

[bookwyrminspiration]

oh also by the way I finished building my new bookshelf today. if you were curious

[sisididis]

Let me tell you, the post-House of Hades heartbreak is like no other.

[ghoulishbuck]

I used to despise mass-market paperbacks due to hating the look of the size of them compared to normal paperbacks and hardcovers and the fact that to read them you basically have to break the spine. But, lately, they’ve been what I’ve been leaning towards. Mostly due to a lot of vintage horror and running out of space.

I currently own nine mass-market paperbacks and while I don’t mind them as much anymore if I can get the book in paperback or hardcover and it’s not extremely expensive I’ll still get that instead. Although, five of them are classics and those I don’t care about the format. All but one of the mass-markets I bought second hand with their spine already broken because I can’t break spines. I’m going to hate the day I get to the one without a broken spine.

[arielluva]

sucks how dark this shelf is bc the monster ball dolls + faboolous pets cleo are just. trapped in the dark...

[ahiijny]

i got destroyed 😅

[redgoldsparks]

Hi, I just read your book gender queer and wanted to tell you that i have never felt more seen by a book in my life (or any media for that matter). Im also genderqueer and somewhere on the aro/ace spectrum and your book put into words alot of things I’ve never known how to express. Thank you for putting yourself out there!

(also do you have any other comic book recommendations?)

Hello anon! Thank you for this kind message! I very much do have comic book recs. In no particular order, here are some favorites. Not all of these are books are queer, but many are. If you want queer specific recs, here are some other asks I've previously answered- books about nonbinary identities, nonbinary mostly fiction

Memoir/Nonfiction 

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Relish: My Life in the Kitchen by Lucy Knisley 

March Trilogy by Senator John Lewis, Nate Powell and Andrew Aydin

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui

Fetch: How a Bad Dog Brought Me Home by Nicole Georges 

You & a Bike & a Road by Eleanor Davis 

Tetris: The Games People Play by Box Brown

The Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott and Harmony Becker

Feeding Ghosts by Tessa Hulls 

Hey Kiddo by Jarrett Krosoczka 

Almost American Girl by Robin Ha 

Dragon Hoops by Gene Luen Yang 

Dancing at the Pity Party: A Dead Mom Graphic Memoir by Tyler Feder 

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada and Ko Hyung-Ju 

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands by Kate Beaton 

Homebody by Theo Parrish 

The High Desert by James Spooner 

Fiction

Prince of Cats by Ronald Wimberly 

This One Summer by Jillian Tamaki and Mariko Tamaki

Skim by Jillian Tamaki and Mariko Tamaki

Seconds by Bryan Lee O’Malley 

Nimona by ND Stevenson 

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang 

The Hard Tomorrow by Eleanor Davis

On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

This Was Our Pact by Ryan Andrews

Grease Bats by Archie Bongiovanni

The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A. 

Salt Magic by Hope Larson and Rebecca Mock

Beetle and the Hollowbones by Aliza Layne

Kiss Number 8 by Colleen F Venable and Ellen Crenshaw 

Finder Library Vols 1 & 2 by Carla Speed McNeil

Castle Waiting: The Lucky Road by Linda Medley

The Deep and Dark Blue by Niki Smith

Across a Field of Starlight by Blue Delliquanti 

O Human Star by Blue Delliquanti 

Snapdragon by Kay Leyh

Cyclopedia Exotica by Aminder Dhaliwal 

Woman World by Aminder Dhaliwal

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen 

A Frog in Fall by Lisa Sterte 

Thieves by Lucie Bryon 

The Great Beyond by Lea Murawiec

Short Stories

The Amazing Screw-On Head and Other Curious Objects by Mike Mignola 

Other Ever Afters: New Queer Fairy Tales by Melanie Gillman

[70sscifiart]

The Last-Minute Sci-Fi Gift Guide

There's only one thing worse than procrastinating on getting gifts for your loved ones, and that's procrastinating on putting together a guide to help out everyone else with all those gifts. It's Dec 12, so you can decide for yourself which I'm doing.

Art book: Worlds Beyond Time, $32

If you follow this blog, you might have heard of this one. I published Worlds Beyond Time: Sci-Fi Art of the 1970s this year after five years of work on it, and I think it's really good! 400+ images, 100+ artists, with lots of fun art history and jokes.

Also, it's just $20 right now if you order through my publisher and use the code SKIPTHELINE! Cheapest it's ever been!

Card game: Coup, $14

In this "social deduction" card game, you play as a government official in a future dystopia who needs to backstab their way into power. Everyone starts out with just two cards in this bluffing game, so the tide can turn pretty quick when players start assassinating each other's cards. The fast pace makes it a good gift for someone who loves spies but thinks they don't like card games.

Game to play over Zoom: Bad Spaceships, $3

If a bluffing game stresses you out, try Bad Spaceships: It's a collaborative world-building game in which you roll dice to see what area of your spaceship connects to another, forcing you to spitball exactly why this is the case. As the game puts it, you might fix the hull by playing Tetris, or charge your weapons in the swimming pool. You're basically getting weird prompts to tell a story that can evolve over the course of the game.

It's such an indie game that it comes as PDFs you download from itch.io, but you can play it just as well over Zoom, if you're looking for an excuse to catch up with your old digital nomad college friend.

Movies/TV: Streaming service gift card

Gift cards are all well and good, but you can personalize them by recommending a few of your favorite shows as well. I suggest:

Hulu: Cowboy Bebop

Apple TV+: Severance

Criterion Channel: Ravenous, Paprika, Strange Days

Paramount+: Yellowjackets

Amazon Prime: The Devil's Hour

But to be honest, this entry is just an excuse to talk about the new Max show Scavenger’s Reign. Inspired by the work of French artist Moebius and with a clear debt to famed 70s animated film Fantastic Planet, this stylish sci-fi show features a bunch of humans trying to survive on a beautiful but hostile alien world. Perfect for lovers of fictional nature.

Vintage sci-fi

This Etsy shop has some good stuff, like the 1971 Frank Kelly Freas NASA poster above, a bit of history that I even mentioned on page 167 of my art book.

Penguin science fiction postcards, $28

These postcards have a ton of very cool sci-fi covers I've blogged in the past – great value if you want a lot of art for a low cost.

Meteorite pendant necklace, $34

I think we all know what kind of rock your loved ones need around their neck: A chunk of meteorite straight out of the 1576 Argentinan meteorite fall.

Book recs

For astronauts: Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, The New Guys: The Historic Class of Astronauts That Broke Barriers and Changed the Face of Space Travel by Meredith Bagby

For comedians: Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir, Even Greater Mistakes: Short Stories by Charlie Jane Anders 

For sleuths: Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, Drunk on All Your Strange New Words by Eddie Robson

For crafters: Knits of Tomorrow: Toys and Accessories for your Retro-Future Needs

For the resistance fighters: The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

For slasher movie fans: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare

Syd Mead "Biomorph Vehicle" button down shirt, $49

T-shirts aren't classy enough for the world's coolest visual futurist, Syd Mead. I haven't actually bought this incredibly odd shirt, but I really need to.

Art prints (and more) from 70s sci-fi artists

Artist shops can be surprisingly hard to track down on the internet, but here's a short list of ones I've come across. All of these artists are featured in my book (except one), so you can read up on them before you commit to a print.

Michael Whelan 

John Harris

Syd Mead

Don Maitz

David B Mattingly

Peter Andrew Jones - Jones was one of just a few artists who declined to be included in my art book, but he has a distinct, colorful style that I would have loved to have featured!

Finally, here's one extra bonus, just for everyone who made it to the end of this article: The UK-based educational charity Centre for Computing History sells three big officially licensed John Harris posters featuring these three artworks, famous for their use as covers for Sinclair programming manuals.

It's a great deal that I've never seen mentioned anywhere, and Harris' work has a timeless quality that makes it great for an unassuming wall decoration. If you're outside the UK, the shipping costs will be a pain, but there's no better deal for a classic sci-fi poster.

[blipblooopp]

Tattoo Cherry

Summary: You've been working as the receptionist for Deja Vu Tattoo for about two years now and you still haven’t gotten a tattoo. But recently, you've been playing with the idea in your head so what's the plan? Oh right, ask your friend and the owner, Hongjoong, to do the honors. Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Hongjoong x F!Reader Words: 4k Warnings: corruption kink highk, fingering/oral (fem receiving), vaginal sex, no protection (please... use protection), a bit of dirty talk, they're horny idiots, mutual pining, besties with tension Genre: smut

You didn't hate tattoos. Quite the opposite, actually. You thought tattoos were amazing. You couldn't wrap your mind around the idea of someone committing to something so personal for the rest of their life. Marriage was a similar concept in that area but even that wasn't as permanent.

You've always wanted one in the back of your mind. Despite the pain, despite the scariness of keeping it on your skin, and despite the fact that you didn't have a single clue what you'd get. A butterfly was too basic and so were flowers and lions and whatever else. The more you thought about it, the more it made your head hurt. It had to mean something for sure but you didn't think anything was worthy enough to be tatted on your skin.

You thought working for your best friend Hongjoong would help with this. He had come to you a few weeks after he had opened his shop called Deja Vu Tattoo and asked if you needed a job. You didn't, really. You had a job at a boring office working a simple nine to five but you also had a Hongjoong and after knowing him for a few years, you knew working for him would be better than any office job.

It was an easy job, for sure. You answered calls, booked appointments, ordered supplies, and made sure the shop was running when Hongjoong got too overwhelmed. He paid you decently and through him, you met his seven other best friends who were absolute dreams. Not only were they insanely nice to look at but they were sweet guys who made you feel included. It was a family.

"Y/n, you should've been here! The client was practically screaming and I didn't even pierce her yet." Jongho huffed as he threw himself on the couch in the waiting area. He was ranting about some client that was so sensitive. You just wanted to order masks in peace but you decided to listen anyway. "And get this, it was just her ears. Can you imagine?"

"You sound extra bothered today, Jongho." You pointed out, your fingers stilling over the keyboard just so you could give him a look. He pouted at you.

"I get that it's my job but I don't understand how you can be so squeamish over an ear-piercing. She even brought her boyfriend and he just kept apologizing the entire time. I didn't even get to pierce her." Jongho's the youngest of the bunch and while he was mature in a lot of ways, his age seemed to show whenever he was feeling petty.

"Are you bothering y/n again?" Seonghwa asked, running a hand through his hair. "You know she's busy."

"Busy, my ass. She's probably playing tetris or something."

You gasp and put your hand on your chest as if you’d been shot. “I would never.”

"And what if she gets calls?" The elder scolded, "Or someone comes in and hears you talking shit about a client. Can you at least wait till we close?"

Seonghwa's the oldest of the eight men. While you made sure the shop was in tip-top shape whenever Hongjoong was busy, Seonghwa made sure the boys kept their heads on straight. He was the official second in command and he didn't hesitate to keep the boys in their place.

"Seonghwa, you can relax. Let the little boy rant." Seonghwa immediately burst into a fit of laughter but Jongho stayed silent with crossed arms and a frown.

"I'm literally twenty-two years old!"

"Then you should probably act like it!" Hongjoong called from his office. You and Seonghwa were practically hollering as Jongho stomped back to his tattoo station. Hongjoong came out of his office shortly after, standing beside you as you continued to order things. "Hello, Beautiful." He greeted.

"Hello," You smiled up at him, "Is there anything else you need from me before we head out?"

"Head out? Where are you guys going?" Seonghwa asks, making himself more comfortable on the couch and taking out his phone.

"We're going to get some lunch. We'll be out for a little bit." Hongjoong replied.

"So a date?" Seonghwa teased. You choked on your spit. A date with Hongjoong?

He shifted slightly in his spot, "We're going out for a good meal. Hold down the fort till I get back?"

Seonghwa finally looks up from his phone, "I always do."

It wasn't a date. Hongjoong didn't think of you like that but you couldn't really say that you didn't think of him like that. The guy was dripping with charisma. He was a talented tattoo artist who always made sure that his personal clients and the other boys' clients felt comfortable. He took his craft seriously and treated everyone with respect. Not to mention, the man was a walking example of sex appeal. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that much.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, making sure to walk around with confidence but staying humble. Maybe it was the way that he was comfortable in his masculinity to the point where he wasn't afraid of painting his nails or occasionally showing up to work with makeup on. Or maybe it was that not-so-random neck tattoo of the flower you drew for him when you first met. You'd love to date Hongjoong, you just didn't know if he wanted to date you and you sure as hell weren't going to make the first move.

The restaurant you pull up to is small and cozy. The atmosphere was nice and you were well aware that you and Hongjoong looked so out of place. It was like Beauty and the Beast but only if the Beast was covered in black ink and not brown fur. Hongjoong didn't seem to mind the staring though so neither did you. They were probably staring because he was so good-looking.

"What are you going to order?" He asks, flipping through the menu.

"I'm thinking this kimchi plate. You?" It wasn't unnatural for Hongjoong to take you out on your lunch break. In fact, it was pretty common. He didn't take you out when he was super busy but those were the days that you would bring him food to make sure he had something in his system. You cared for each other.

"This curry ramen looks really good."

Any situation that involved Hongjoong flowed really well. There was never a dull moment when you spent time with him. He carried the conversation if there was even a moment of awkwardness.

"So, I've been thinking..." You start, leaning back in your chair.

Hongjoong laughs, "That can't be good."

"I'm being serious, right now." You shot back even though you laughed at his joke, "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo."

"Finally! You've been working at the shop for some time now. I'm surprised you didn't want one sooner."

"I still have no idea what to get but I want you to tattoo me."

Hongjoong's eyes widened as he sipped his soda. He felt a sudden foreign feeling... was it nervousness? Sure was. He's tattooed hundreds of people. It wasn't a matter of whether or not he thought he was good enough. He was just scared to fuck up your first-ever tattoo, especially because you meant so much to him.

He also felt strangely turned on at the idea of being your first. Your skin's as smooth as porcelain, and even though you weren't a virgin by any means, he'd be the first to permanently taint your skin. There'd be physical proof that he had been there. It was sick to think this way, he knew. You weren't an object that needed to be branded but it sparked a sudden sense of possessiveness.

He wasn’t blind either. You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your hair was always styled so nice and your makeup on point, although he preferred you without. You were such a sweet woman too, occasionally getting the guys coffee and snacks in between clients.

When Hongjoong’s tattoo shop was a mere dream, you encouraged him. You were actually the first person who didn’t laugh in his face. You’d been there for every step and whenever he felt like he’d fail, you’d be there in a flash to lift him up.

"Are you sure?" He asked, still on the fence. "You're not really good at making decisions."

"What are you even talking about?"

"Remember when you thought that office job was your dream?" He was trying his best to be smooth. He felt gross about the dirty thoughts that were coming up in his head.

"Remember when you wanted to be a poet?" You sassed back. "You even wrote me a poem."

"You don't need to remind me of Star 1117. I really did want to be a writer but I was more passionate about tattooing people." He rambled. Star 1117 held a special place in your heart mostly because he dedicated it to you. You could recite it word for word if he asked, not that he would. Hongjoong thought that was his worst poem.

"Hey, Star 1117 was, and still is, iconic."

____

Hongjoong tells you that you'll get the tattoo in a week so you can think of what you want to get. He was going to give you a few months, more than a few, but you insisted that you wanted to get it as soon as you could because you were so excited.

"I heard you're letting Hongjoong pop your cherry." Yeosang mused. He started working at the tattoo shop a year after you did, already having a few dainty tattoos scattered on his right arm. Now, he's covered in bigger, more elaborate, tattoos all over his body.

"I'm kind of hurt. I thought we were besties." He pouts at you as he leans over the counter in front of you. You roll your eyes but don't spare too much attention. You were trying to find space in Hongjoong's schedule. Your design, even though it took you the full week to come up with, was small so you knew it wouldn't take long but you knew Hongjoong. He'd probably take his time and make sure you were comfortable.

"No offense, but I wouldn't trust you to even draw with a sharpie on my skin."

"You do realize I work here too, right? I tattoo people daily like, that's what I get paid to do?" Yeosang's head tilted to the side as he sarcastically asked. You laughed to yourself.

"I do know that. I'm the one who fills up your schedule with clients. I just... I trust Hongjoong more." Which is true. While you did trust the men in the shop with your life, Hongjoong was on a different level for you. You wouldn't feel right if you had someone else tattoo you.

"No, I get it. I'm just teasing."

"Thank you."

"We all want our first time to be special." The man walked off before you could say anything, not like you could come up with anything in the first place.

____

"So, you're sure about this?" Hongjoong asked, his hand gripping the tattoo machine tightly.

"For crying out loud, Hongjoong, I will literally go to a different shop." Actually, you wouldn't. Plus, no other shop was going to give you the tattoo for free.

"Alright, fine." He didn't want to admit he was nervous but he was. He could feel the sweat in his pits. "But don't blame me when you regret it. Now, let me see the design."

You feel a rush a giddiness take over as you giggle like a child and take out the folded piece of paper from your back pocket. Hongjoong takes the paper and his eyes go wide.

"No way. No. I'm not tattooing this." He pushes the paper back to you and you whine.

"It's my tattoo, on my body. Please?"

"You want me to tattoo lines from a poem I wrote four years ago?" You knew he wouldn't like the idea at first but you thought he would just roll his eyes before silently tattooing you.

"I gave you the paper, didn't I?" You roll your eyes, "Come on! I love this part." You point it out for him and he sighs to himself, visibly struggling to wrap his head around the idea.

“…Fine.” You shriek with excitement and clap. “Just shut up and tell me where you want it.” You point to the inner part of your upper left arm.

Maybe it was because this was your first time or the location of the tattoo but it was way worse than you thought it’d be. Your eyes were screwed shut underneath your right arm which you had wrapped around your head in response to the pain. You tried to calm yourself down with breathing but they came out like whimpers.

It was torture for Hongjoong. As much as he wanted to hear all the noises you were making, it was getting difficult to tattoo you. He wanted so badly to be on top of you, to be doing not so holy things to elicit this same response.

He doesn't know how he did it but he finished the tattoo and heaved a heavy breath.

"It looks great." Hongjoong compliments. "You did really... well."

"I was crying like a baby." He laughs at this and stands in between your legs in front of you. You sit up and let him wrap up the new tattoo, all the while watching it get wrapped in cellophane. It looked so pretty.

"You were really loud but you did so well for me, babygirl." His hand reached to caress your cheek and you felt yourself gulp. Kiss me. Kiss me. KISS ME.

"Did I?" You ask, playing into his playful tone. "I should be rewarded then, right?" You hook your pointer fingers into his belt loops and pull him closer, feeling his warm breath fan your face.

His eyebrow quirks as he looks down at you. Your silent prayers seem to be answered when his lips finally collide with yours. It's messy and hot, teeth hitting each other as all the built-up tension takes over your bodies. Hongjoong's hands are all over you, touching you everywhere his hands can reach while your hands are too busy messing up his hair.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and pull it off of him and yours follows suit with your bra. You pull away just far enough to take him in. You knew he was fit but damn, you could stare at him all day. You rake your hands over his abs softly and relish how they contract under your touch.

His tattoos were no joke, either. You never knew he had so many on his upper body. There was a huge dragon that started on the left side of his ribcage and disappeared as it wrapped around his back, its tail resting on his right shoulder. You never noticed his collarbone tattoo which read 'eight makes one team'

Hongjoong snatches your hand and breaks you out of your haze, your worried eyes snapping up to see if you had done something wrong.

"I'm gonna reward you now, beautiful." He said, kissing your palm softly before letting it go. He helps you out of your shorts, tossing them to some corner of the room and getting on his knees. The new cool air hits your skin, helping you sober up slightly from the intoxicating moment. You're just about to feel nervous when you feel that first small lick to your clit.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling. Your hands immediately find Hongjoong's head, pushing him further into you. He feels pride take over at the way you react, your moans egging him on as he lets himself go. His arms wrap around your thighs, locking them onto his shoulders as he dives in, lapping up every bit of your arousal and making sure you're legs stay open.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry, pulling his hair.

"You're so wet, baby." He replies, pulling away so he can drag a single finger along your lower lips, occasionally circling your hole just to drag his finger back up. "… so pretty."

"Hongjoong, please..."

"Please what? I'm not a mind-reader." His finger stops right at your hole again and your back arches with anticipation. But he doesn't enter you, he stops completely.

You look down at him and the sight alone makes you need him even more than before. His chin is still wet from your juices, his eyes dark and dilated with want. He looks so good between your thighs and the thought of him eating you out all night has you clenching on nothing.

He chuckles lowly, "Did you need something from me?"

"Please touch me."

"Where?" He taunts, standing up and putting his hands on your chest, playing with your nipples until they get hard. "Here?"

You shake your head no.

He hums as he plays dumb, his hands tracing the curves of your body, "Maybe you want me to just hold you here?" His hands resting on your hips.

"Baby, please, I need your fingers inside me." You rush out.

"Ah, that was going to be my next guess." His two fingers finally enter you slowly and your head falls back again. His thumb rubs circles into your clit and your hands are gripping the sides of the chair.

"Joong, I'm- I'm gonna-" You stutter, your mind slowly slipping away.

"I know, baby. Go ahead whenever you're ready." He encourages, his fingers continuing to bring you to your high. His voice sounded like pure aphrodisiac to you. How could you refuse? You came in an instant, painting Hongjoong's fingers with your juices.

"I gotta be in you, right now. I feel like I'm going crazy." His hands fiddled with the buckle, his excitement clouding his mind and making him struggle. Maybe this was a mistake but you guys were flowing so well. You had to feel the same way, right? He had to know before you continued.

"Tell me how you want it." Hongjoong huffed. He was above you now, his dick rubbing between your wet folds. It was driving you crazy; you just wanted him to fuck you but the words weren't coming out. He pulls away slightly, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes pleading. "No, look at me and tell me you want this... want me."

The vibe was suddenly very serious. You almost forgot why you were in this position. You didn't even have to think though. You knew what he meant even though he didn't explain himself. You did want him. You've wanted him since you met him.

You look into his eyes and cup his face. You give him a small smile. "I've wanted you, in every possible way ever since I laid eyes on you."

You can feel him relax as he sighs, "Thank god... I'm definitely gonna fuck you now."

You mutter out a please and Hongjoong's entering you without another beat. His dick is big, bigger than in your wet dreams. He bites his lip, forcing himself to take it slow despite really not wanting to. The look on your face is what keeps him strong though. He hated knowing you were in pain even if would only last a second.

Even when he was all the way inside, he waited until you were fully adjusted. You looked into his eyes and gave him a reassuring nod. His hips moved slowly as he gripped your waist like he wouldn’t ever let go. You knew you’d have bruises and the thought of this moment having physical proof on your body was making you more excited.

"Move, please, faster" You look up at him and move your hands to rest on his shoulders, trying to speak through the cloudiness of pleasure. Hongjoong wanted to imprint the look you were giving him into his brain. It was better than anything his wildest fantasies could come up with. But he obliged before you completely lost your patience. You both had been waiting too long.

He moved quick just like you asked, burying his head in your neck and occasionally leaving soft kisses. His hips were pistoning into you just right.

"Oh, fuck, baby. You're so fucking tight." His hands moved from your hips to the back of your legs, pushing them up so you were bent in half on the chair. Your hands instantly grabbed the sides of the chair, trying to keep yourself from flying off from the strong thrusts.

Hongjoong felt so good inside of you. He was filling you just right and you wanted to watch so bad but your eyes wouldn't stop rolling. You were reaching your limit but you didn't want it to stop. It was too good.

Hongjoong was fighting his own battle. You felt like a glove, warm and tight. You looked so beautiful under him. It all felt like a dream to him. He wasn't going to last long.

"Hongjoong!" You cried, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, "Please,"

"I know. I got you. I'm almost there" He replied back between moans. He shoved his head between your breasts, planting hickies along your chest. You didn't think it was possible but his thrusts were becoming faster and harder.

Your orgasm hit you in a flash. It caught you by surprise but Hongjoong was right there with you. He let you ride out your high before pulling himself out with a grunt and releasing on your stomach.

He let out a heavy sigh of satisfaction and put his hands on the side of the chair, shifting his weight on his arms so he could rest while standing.

"That was..." He started, taking deep breaths.

Post nut clarity started to hit you as you closed your eyes, trying your hardest to calm down from the high.

"Did you hate it?" You asked, your eyes practically glued shut so you wouldn't have to see the look of disapproval if he really did hate it.

Instead, he laughed... really loud. The sound surprised you enough to make you look at him. "Did I like it?" His tone was sarcastic. "Y/N, I have wanted this since we saw each other."

You felt your face warm up at this. "Me too."

"I know." Hongjoong said, feeling cocky. "You said something like 'I've wanted you since the first time I saw you! Muah, muah, muah." His tone was high-pitched in an awful attempt to mimic you.

"Hey!" You sat up and pushed him lightly. "I don't sound like that."

He just smiled warmly at you before kissing your lips and getting you a few napkins to clean up. After you wiped all the sex off your body, you got up and looked in the mirror, holding your arm out in a way to look at your new tattoo.

It's exactly the way you wanted it, in his handwriting and everything. You smiled to yourself.

"Do you like it?" Hongjoong asked, coming up from behind and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your head nods fast like a child who's just been asked if they want ice cream.

"It means everything to me."

____

"You look different." Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at you.

"I got a new tattoo!" You beamed, extending your arm so he could see.

"No, no, this is different."

"You're crazy."

"No he's right... There's something about you." Jongho joined in, narrowing his eyes too and shaking his finger at you.

"Hongjoong gave her head!" Wooyoung screamed from his station. You gasped, your head whipping in his direction.

"Woo!" You cried.

"Dicked her down too!" Hongjoong screamed back from his office.

"Hong!"

"Yeah, you thought you were the only two in the store but you weren't! But don't worry, I left and locked the door the moment I heard." Wooyoung explained, walking over to your desk.

"What's the tattoo say?" Jongho asked, grabbing your wrist and coming closer.

Thinking of you. That’s the greatest happiness for me.

[krisstheidiot]

× Midnight Brownies ×

Valentine's Day Special

Summary: Felix and you meet again years after highschool in a cafe on Valentine's day. When you two decide to go on a spontaneous multiple valentine's day activities spree, will past feelings sprout again?, will Felix finally answer your highschool self's confession?

Genre: fluff, highschool friends reunited(crushes)

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Fireworks

Your sister had kept you awake all night until 3 to help her decide what outfit she was to wear for her date with her boyfriend. Sleep was completely lost so you had decided to go on a long jog at 6 am and then got ready to hang out at a cozy cafe a few blocks down.

Ordering your usual latte with a slice of apple pie as you sit down at a table near the flower display outside, reading a book on your kindle enjoying the quiet despite the lack of sleep.

A deep voice speaks out of no where breaking your concentration as you look up in shock, finding a familiar face in front you...

"Hey miss is this seat free...?"

Those honey brown orbs, the galaxy like freckles spread on those plush fair cheeks and that cute heart like smile, The face not matching the voice at all as you come to realize who you were face to face with.

"...Felix?"

Tilting your head as you gasp softly and stand up with a bright smile, happy you encountered an old friend, said man looked down at your face in shock as he took in all your features. It was no doubt you were pretty but you looked so beautiful as the morning sun gave you your golden hour, eyes twinkling with golden orbs.

"Y/n..? Omg it's really you...!"

Felix smiled brightly as he suddenly pulled you in for a warm hug, which you happily reciprocated.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you here!"

Felix exclaimed happily as he pulled away and you both sat at your table to catch up on what's been going with your lives. A while later you got curious about why he was here all alone, fiddling with your fork and apple pie crumbs you finally decide to ask.

"Felix i was wondering why you are here all alone? That too so early in the morning?"

Felix chuckles as he sips on his drink while thinking of a way to word his reason without it being awkward

"Well its valentine's day and I am single but all my other friends are dating I woke up to one of them having morning sex so yeah I had to make my escape so i came here..."

"Oh..."

Felix laughs at the face you make as you nod sheepishly imagining how awkward the situation would have been.

"Either ways they probably would have teased me if I had stayed also I am avoiding social media so I don't get coerced into doing a stream because I am sure even my fans would tease me about being so lonely that I stream even on valentine's day"

You giggle as you imagine all the 8 year olds bullying an adult just because he doesn't have a partner. Suddenly a spontaneous idea comes up in your head as you quickly take Felix' hand and get up grabbing your stuff.

"You know what Felix let's go on a date right now! The one we were supposed to go to in highschool but never could because I moved away. I mean if that's okay with you...?"

Felix grinned as he nodded eagerly making all the uncertainty in your head disappear. You smiled as you took his hand in yours and left the cafe after paying.

Finding yourself at a retro arcade that was empty as you and Felix buy a shit ton of coins for all the games. Trying out every single one from bunch of scammy claw machines to every car racing game.

Any game you found fun you would do. Tetris. You name it you played it. With the last coins you decided to play a boxy zombie game that looked like a stupid rip off minecraft as you tried to distract each other hoping the other would fall into the pit of zombie while trying to bridge with the jammed buttons of the machine. Finally you managed to bag the win for who bridged the farthest by kissing Felix's cheek to distract him.

Smiling as both you and Felix's hands are full holding bags full of the tacky toys and gifts he won for you from the claw machines and all the old timey snacks and games you had won from winning the competitive games as you walk next door deciding to play laser tag since you had won two tickets to it.

Coming out of the place as you whine childishly complaining that Felix was just too fast and he didn't win fairly since he literally picked you up and shot your tag with his laser. Felix in tow teasing you that you were just too slow and small to be able to win and his win was completely fair.

"Let's get lunch yeah?"

Felix asks as he smiles down at you as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the nearby beach that was 10 minute walk away. You guys come to a stop in front of a shack restaurant on the beach itself.

sitting on a table facing the sea as you guys order what you guys are gonna eat while talking about anything that came to mind like you were back in Highschool.

Finishing up lunch as the both of you decide to visit the shops at the beach before leaving, as you browsed shop after shop as you go into a very neon coloured shop looking around at all the vintage and retro stuff as you pick up some old pokemon cards blind packs and buy it while Felix is wandering around buying something of his own.

Now, walking to an old cinema as you chat about what anime movie you should watcha at the cinema. Both deciding 'My Neighbor Totoro' would be best as you go inside the cinema taking some artificially buttered popcorn as you sit down in the empty cinema giggling like middle schoolers.

"Hey Felix earlier I bought these old packs of pokemon cards wanna open them with me like when in highschool?"

You suggested, glad that it was dark in the theatre so that he wouldn't know you were blushing as you saw Felix chuckle as he pulled out what he had bought earlier. It was a bunch of old candy with no nutritional value just sugar. Pure sugar. You grinned remembering how you both used skip classes to watch anime at the library while opening pokemon cards and munching on candies just like this.

"Honestly Y/n I missed this. I missed us."

Felis whispered to you while sipping on his now watered down coke since the ice had melted, you looked at him, eyes full of emotion as you smiled softly.

"I missed us too alot, I wished that i had never moved away then maybe we would be spending this valentine's day as a couple not as just friends..."

Whispering sadly as you look back at the screen hoping you don't start crying.

You feel him take your hand in his as he squeezes it slightly.

"Who says we can't spend it as a couple?"

Felix asked straightforward about his intentions behind the question.

You looked up at him slightly in shock trying to gauge out the joke in his question and intent. He nodded to reassure you that he was saying the truth and what he wanted wasn't to joke with you, it was to be with you. A look into his eyes was all you needed to reassure yourself. Just as you opened your mouth to respond he pulled you in and kissed you. It was soft and warm and full of love, his lips soft against your own as he put his hands on your cheek holding you there as you reciprocate the action. Pulling away after a while as he smiles down at you, eyes beating the ones a certain heart eyed emoji has.

"I loved you before. I love you still. And I am sure I will keep on loving you. That's how much I feel about you Y/n, baking isn't any fun without you when i remember how much fun we used to have when we baked together."

You looked at Felix, eyes glossy with tears as you breathe out shakily, overwhelmed by emotions as you hug him close to you and whisper.

"I love you too, I tried so hard to move on convinced that you probably did too, but this its not just a highschool crush it goes beyond that and I don't want to lose the good memories of you. I don't want to lose you anymore not after i waited so many years..."

Felix smiled as he kissed your head and ran his fingers through your hair to comfort you as he spoke. The movie long forgotten.

"You aren't losing me hell even if you wanted to you won't be able to get rid of me now so don't be sad Sweets..."

"Sw-sweets...?"

You looked up at him blushing like crazy as he smiled and patted your head. He looked like a bright ball of sunshine whenever he smiled.

"Well I am assuming that this means we are a couple now so I am just calling my lovely girlfriend a cute nickname!"

"Well if I am sweets then you are Sunshine..."

You whined as took your cup of coke and drank to hide your blush.

"I don't mind darling"

The nickname teasing fest continued as both of you tried making each other blush by calling each other the cheesiest pet names.

It was 8 in the evening as both of you walked hand in hand now as a couple not friends. Smiling as you walked in a nearby diner and sitting down at the table as your eyes adjusted to the the 90s theme the diner was sporting.

Fishing out some spare change as you put it into the jukebox placed near your table as you grinned up at Felix playing the song that you always did in high school. 'Summer love' by One Direction playing as both of you grabbed your spoons pretending they were mics and singing the lyrics and dancing together like idiots in love which you were.

Dinner ended with you two full and satisfied as you walked to Felix's apartment to spend more time together. Both of you ended up playing mario kart as he started vlogging for memories. That's what he said.

Later you decided that both of you needed a sugar high after as if all that candy earlier didn't do a number on your blood sugar levels.

Both of you in his kitchen while trying to bake brownies at 12:50 am. Flour on both of you as you sprinkled choco chips on the brownie batter before putting it in the oven that Felix had pre heated. Closing the oven door as you get up when Felix suddenly wipes your face with a tissue to get rid of all the flour. You look at him, his face now absent of any flour from the playfight you had when he called you small. Leaning slightly to look at the time.

"Wanna do something? we can turn on the oven after we come back from the last adventure of today..."

You said as you take of the apron and take his hand leading him outside as you walk back to the beach.

"So what is this adventure about sweets?"

"You will see Lix..."

Smiling as you reach the beach and tell Felix to go and sit on a bench while you buy a few things. Coming back with two bags of stuff that Felix had no idea to what it would be used for. You looked at the time on your phone as you asked Felix to countdown with you while your eyes are focused at the sky.

Few seconds later bright explosions were visible. Fireworks everywhere. The colourful sparks littered the sky as you looked at Felix. He was absolutely beautiful, his eyes reflecting the colors in the sky as his hair flowed with the wind and his lips parted in amaze as he looked at you.

"My sister wanted to be extra for her date with her boyfriend so she decided on fireworks at the time when she had first met him."

Smiling back at Felix as you turned to look at the sky when suddenly Felix pulled you in to kiss you. Smothering you with kisses all over your face as you giggled under his attack. Few minutes later he stops as you smile and dangle the bag that you brought earlier in front of him.

"I brought sky lanterns and sparklers so we could have our own little light show..."

"I remember when all our friends went to that park at 12 am just to look at the sky lanterns that everyone released"

Felix said in response to your suggestion as you both pulled out the sparklers and played around for awhile, later taking the few sky lanterns and lighting them and releasing them while holding onto each other like the couples that were in the park the night you confessed to Felix while watching the sky lanterns float in the sky.

Watching as the sky lanterns you released float together while you hug each other. This may be a cheesy holiday for some but this was the day you found your love. The one that would stay forever with you. The love where you would go back home at 3 am and eat brownies and then cuddle and fall asleep on the couch.

This is your love and it is yours to keep forever and ever.

Because just like the sky lanterns you lit you burned bright for each other and would find your way to each other no matter how far you could be.

He was your sun, you were his star.

@!directory

A.N: Helloo! I am Kriss I hope you liked the oneshot it was kinda rushed and sorry if it was too cheesy. Anyways Happy Valentines day to everyone, to all the ones who are dating - enjoy your special day, to every single pringle - treat yourself to anything even if it's a small chocolate bar! Have a great day/night. Byeee!

Stay Tuned for more!

[girlsneedff]

Tetris player!Chosou x f!reader (NSFW!!)

Minors and ageless bios please dni

Mating press, slight Tetris! babble, established relationship, breeding (slightly)

Author’s yap: ok ok so I basically sat and watched this Tetris tournament on TikTok and I got inspired… possibly one of the more unserious things I’ve written, but that’s ok!!

————

Tetris! is boring as shit.

How could someone sit there in front of a rickety old 8-bit, shitty quality game and have fun for hours? It was stupid.

Well, that was before you started dating an 8-time Tetris! champion. Now the game is absolutely amazing- a Heaven sent.

Chosou Kamo’s a man of few words. Even when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out (you were in the same humanities class), it went like this:

“Hello, we- ………date?” The blush saturated his cheeks as he twiddled his thumbs while remaining eye contact.

Oh, those thumbs.

He’s cute, and you’ve been ogling him a bit (a lot) during class, so of course you took up his offer, regardless of how ill-planned it was.

Next thing you know, you’re at his place- always watching him prep for a tournament he’s competing in. Whether it’s an actual controller or on his pc- he practices for hours- at least 3. His hair is in his usual messy pigtails as he chews the inside of this right cheek.

Next Tetrimino is an O- he moves that to the left-most end of the field. Then it’s a T- he flipped it so it fits nicely into this little slot he had created with some past pieces. He gets an I- his face lights up as he gleefully moves it to the right-most end of the field, sliding it into the perfect position and boom: Tetris!

A line of 4 disappears with this completion, and the game continues, his fingers moving at rapid paces to keep up. His eyes flicker to you, to make sure that you saw his victory, then back to the game.

You must admit, when he first told you he was a multi-time Tetris! winner, you damn near laughed at him. You wouldn’t do it in his face- but you definitely have scoffed thinking about it before.

“Hi- oh yea this is my boyfriend. Oh what does he do? Well he’s a Tetris! Champion!”

Your peers would look at you sideways.

But you couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they think now. You’d scream it from the rooftops actually. He’s made you scream a lot more embarrassing things than that.

You owe Tetris! your sex life. Truly. In your vows, you might give Tetris! a shoutout. Because the way that this man knows how to work his fingers- it’s unnatural. How he works his everything- jeez he’s Heaven sent.

————

“Baby, I need an opponent.”

You sit up to look at your boyfriend. He’s sitting in his gaming chair, still working away at Tetris, while you lie on his bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Why don’t you call up your frien-”

“Play with me.”

You freeze. This was the first time he’s ever brought this up. You’ve been coming over for 4 months now, and never once had he asked you to play with him.

“You know I don’t really know anything about Tetris!, right?”

“I’ll teach you. I just need to practice for tomorrow against somebody. It will help get me in the mood.”

It sure as hell did help him get in a mood. Sitting in his lap, he hands you his other console, makes sure you’re ok, and presses play. His console rests on your lap, while you hold yours up a bit.

…

And he lost.

…

Because how the flying fuck did you two end up on the bed?

Lock down: When a Tetrimino is put into a place where it’s no longer moveable. Kinda like how you are now.

Choso supports himself on your bent thighs with knees damn-near touching your ears as he towers above you, sweaty strands of hair still sticking to his face as he keeps eye contact. There’s no possible way you could escape this- even if you wanted to.

Then, he does his next signature move: Hard Drop. When a player drops a Tetrimino right into Lock Down from its starting position- no alterations.

Well, save for the fact that he had you line him up with your cunt, he’s by the book.

Who knew that Tetris! players would be so good at multitasking? With every stroke, he plays with your clit like he’s moving pieces- this Tetris!-junkie really doesn’t quit. He keeps it at a steady pace, steady force. All the way to left field- down. In the middle- he lets it wait for a little bit before he moves it to the right and down. It’s dizzying.

The way his dick is stretching you, and how his lithe fingers work to bully your clit into submission, you felt like you were levitating.

Then he starts fucking drawing the Tetriminos on your clit. You swear you’re actually in Heaven, the angels singing choruses of Tetris! hymns and praises while perched upon fluffy white cumulus clouds. Your mouth is in a permanent “O” position.

He definitely felt you clench around him- he lets out a breathy moan- louder than the noises he was already making. He has an airy type of grit in his voice every time you have sex- one of the many things that you love about this man.

Chosou leans close to your right ear, deepening the position as he speaks:

“Z, I, L, O, J…”

Before you know it you’re creaming- babbling random nonsense that you definitely don’t remember, but definitely know it was embarrassing. Cumming from him saying letters? How pathetic. But you don’t give a goddamn fuck.

You dig your fingers into your own flesh, since you were propping yourself up properly.

Chosou kisses your cheek and your neck as he continues to fuck you through your high.

He finally succumbs to his own desire, pumping everything that he has inside you with a soft, yet kind of whiny moan.

From that moment onwards, you vowed that you will never disrespect Tetris! again.

[the---hermit]

How to get out of a reading slump

A while back posted a list of ten books to help you get out of a reading slump, but I also wanted to post a more general list of tips I personally think are useful when you find yourself in a reading slump. (I have also talked about this topic in this ask). So here's some of my tips:

Take a break. Sometimes you can get in reading slumps because you are burned out, maybe not just because of reading, but that can be affected as well. You have no obligations when reading (unless of course if you have to do it for school/uni, in which case I would still recommend trying to get some time off or at least slow down a bit in order to get some energies back). Sometimes accepting that you are in a non-reading place in life it's the best solution.

If you feel like it's a book you are reading that is putting you in a reading slump dnf it, or at least try to switch between that and another book. I personally tend to get stuck when I have only one book in my currently reading pile, because I need to vary often, so I like to have at the very least two books that I am currently reading. Realizing this about myself made me read much more, because I have avoided a lot of reading slumps. I'd also like to add that there's no shame in dnf-ing a book, if you are not enjoying your time with it there's no reason you should keep forcing yourself to read that. Maybe it's not the right time, and you'll enjoy it more in the future, or simply the book is not made for you, which is totally fine.

Graphic novels are a great compromise to get some reading done when you are in a reading slump, but you still want to something to read. This is specifically my solution for when I am in a reading slump caused by being burned out. Graphic novels tend to require less brain energy, and the illustrations usually help a lot with the flow of the story. I think this is the safest option when you are in the worse reading slumps.

Audiobooks are your best friends, whether you want to listen to it while doing other activities, or you want the narrator to help you while you follow the page, I feel like this is another great option. I personally love audiobooks, and I like to always have one on the go. This is again a great option if you are feeling burned out, in those cases I really like to listen to the audiobook as I take a walk, or even as I play some mindless games online like tetris, and similar things. These are also a great option to help when the book you are reading is putting you in a reading slump but you really have to read it. I have used audiobooks a lot in high school to help when I had to read poems or big classics.

Short story collections can be one of the best options to get back into reading. These take off the pressure of being consistent in order to remember things, because you can pick them up and leave them as you like, since most stories won't be over 25 pages usually. There's also some great options of collections that include multiple genres, which can be very helpful when you are stuck and don't really know what you want to read.

Fairytales and kid's books might not come to mind as soon as you think of what to read, but they can be very helpful to get you out of reading slumps. They are short and lighthearted which are two fundamental characteristics of good books to get you back into reading. And rivisiting some childhood favourites is always a great choice in my opinion.

Reread an old favourite or a comfort book. I know some people don't love revisiting old favourites, but I personally love them. You always get something new out of the story, and rereading a plot you know already can take off a lot of the pressure of reading, because you don't have to pay the same attention as with a story you know nothing about. This can be very helpful when getting back into the habit of reading.

Set up a cozy place to read. I am all about romanticizing the small things in life, and this is a very effortless way to put you into a good mindset to read. I personally like to light a few candles, make myself a nice cup of tea, maybe get a little treat to eat, cuddle up under a blanket and just read. Of course your set up might change depending on your preferences, just have a little fun with it, you could even try to read a bit while you are taking a bath.

Try to read outside. Similarly to the last tip, changing your enviroiment can be helpful sometimes. Some people like to read in a cafè, but you could also go in your garden if you have one or in a park.

Consume bookish content. This might seem stupid at first but sometimes seeing other people be excited about reading and books is very motivating. It has personally helped me several times.

Start a buddy read with a friend you feel comfortable with. Sharing your thoughts with someone as you read a book can keep the motivation up and a buddy read can be a great option to help with motivation, but be sure that you are comfortable with this person so that you don't feel too pressure upon you. Be clear from the beginning set a small goal and have fun with your buddy.

At the moment these are all the tips that came to my mind when thinking about getting out of a reading slump. Of course different people might have different methods, but changing things up can always be helpful. As I said at the beginning you shouldn't feel pressure when reading, and if it's a no reading moment in your life there's not shame in it, but I have also been stuck in reading slumps where I actually did want to read but I couldn't bring myself to do so, and many of these things helped me.

original posts/tips masterlist

[carrionsymptom]

Take It Easy | The Grabber x Reader

AN: I’m still here!! Can’t promise I will be particularly active, but I am alright. I’ve been busy and had little motivation to write, but I’m slowly getting more. This isn’t the best thing I’ve written, and I cut it off a little early, but I’ll just say my writing skills are rusty and leave it at that. Here’s a quick spiritual successor to Mistaken, but it can be read by itself.

CW: Implied age difference, bit of size kink, some non consensual touching to start, heavy petting

AFAB reader, no pronouns or gendered terms used. Jenga didn’t exist until the 80’s but I had no better metaphors since Tetris also didn’t exist until the 80’s.

There’s so much shit you have to take to college, it’d be a miracle if you can fit it all into the boot of your parent’s sedan, but God help you, you'll try. Boxes of clothes, bedding, a microwave, books, toiletries and whatever odds and ends you can fit get stuffed into the car. You’re lucky your roommate is bringing a mini fridge because there’s no way in hell you’d be able to fit that in with everything else. 

While you’re busting your ass playing cardboard-box Jenga, he, walking past, certainly notices your ass sticking out of the car. Clad in too-tight jean shorts, you sway like an invitation and were it not for the prying eyes of the other neighbors, he would’ve fucked you right there. Instead, he sidles up behind you, pressing his hips into yours.

“Need some help?” You leap nearly a foot into the air, dropping the box you were holding and whirling to face your older neighbor. “Woah there kid, y’can’t have a heart attack this young!”

With a shaky hand over your chest, you tentatively smile at him. “Jeez, sorry, you spooked me. Uh, help would be nice.” You slot your work-in-progress box into the car, and he takes his place next to you. He’s clad in an old camp shirt and jeans that look way too thick to be comfortable in this weather, but he doesn’t even break a sweat as he easily hauls box after box into the sedan. If you weren’t so flustered from how his thick forearms graze your side as he brushes past you, you might’ve commented on how strong he is. 

You wish you could gather your thoughts for a second, but you can’t help but hone in on the miniscule touches to your lower back as he passes, or how big his hands are when he takes a box out of your arms. Any attempt at conversation seems to end up with you embarrassingly stammering, but he always glances back at you with a half-chuckle and a shake of his head. With his help, packing is quick, and with a sturdy slam, the trunk door shuts.

“Whew!” Your neighbor exclaims, wiping his brow. You try not to stare at the strip of skin that flashes above his belt when he lifts his arm. “Not gonna invite me inside sweetheart?” He all but laughs at the way you freeze and your eyes widen.

You stumble over your words: “Uh, would you– would you like to come inside? I can… I can make some lemonade or something?” Your parents are out, but you’re not sure when they’ll be back. They’d understand inviting your helpful neighbor in to rehydrate after a hard day of lugging boxes, won’t they?

“Or something,” he smiles, sweeping past you into your house. He sits himself at your leather sofa, legs spread wide and looking far too big to be comfortable, but you can see his incisors with how he grins at you. “Really, I’m alright without anything to drink, but I’d still like your company, ‘f that’s ok with you?”

You nod– you have to nod, and make to sit on your dad’s old loveseat, but his mouth creases into a frown so you awkwardly hover. 

“Don’t gotta be so far away sweetheart. C’mon,” he pats his thigh. Surely he doesn’t expect you to… “Come on. Climb up.” You wish you had a glass of lemonade now, with how difficult it feels to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

Your neighbor barks out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. You don’t find it particularly funny, but he’s practically wiping a tear out of his eye as he settles down. “Sweetie, you’re not going to crush me. Now up.” With no better argument, you bite your tongue and climb into his lap.

Despite your initial hesitation, you can immediately tell he’s right. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to crush him. His thigh is thick and sturdy– everything about him is sturdy. A rough hand rests on your hip, rubbing little circles into the denim of your shorts while the other plays with the hem of your shirt.

It’s a little awkward though, the way you’re perched on his leg. You balance precariously on the apex of his thigh, teetering a little as he shifts up the couch seat. Your neighbor, he, tuts as you shuffle. “Mmm… a little uncomfortable, huh? Here, why don’t we…” 

You yelp as he pulls you closer to him, swinging one leg over so you’re straddling his hips. The crux of your legs meets his, and through the layers of denim, you can feel the hardness in his pants. Christ, even his cock is thick. He lets out a low groan, holding your waist as he pushes his hips up against yours. You buck against him, but aren’t quite able to grind down how you’d like to.

“That’s it,” he sighs. “There you go sweetheart. That’s it.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, murmuring quietly in his ear: “Can I… can I take off my shorts? Please?”

He smiles. “Ah, since you asked so nicely.” You shuffle out of your shorts and he pants as you accidentally graze his cock. “Mmm,” he hums, tucking a finger under the waistband. “Why don’t you take these off too? Make sure you’re extra comfy.”

Once more you shimmy on his lap, out of your underwear, and as you settle back down, the thick seam on his jeans catches against your clit. You let out a whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder. Your neighbor wraps his thick arms around you in return, caging you against him as you bump and grind and move and–

Fuck! You come from nothing but heavy petting, clenching around air and tensing in your neighbor’s strong hold. The physical release is nice, but he’s still hard under you, and you’re struck with an overwhelming need for more. Your hands trail down from his neck, down his chest, until they’re struggling to undo his belt.

“Ah, sweetheart. That’s enough. That’s enough.” He pushes your hips back from his so you’re resting on the middle of his thighs. He laughs as he looks down at his jeans, a wet spot darkening the outline of his still-hard cock. “Shit. Would you look at that? Made a goddamn mess of me, huh honey?”

You suppose you should be feeling some sort of embarrassment, but you can only feel confusion; why did he stop you? “But… you didn’t… I mean, don’t you want to… y’know…” You trail off, head too fuzzy to string together the right words. Your neighbor shakes his head with an easy grin.

“Maybe next time, ok honey? I’m a busy man, I gotta get going. Thanks for such great hospitality though.” He says. 

“Can I… I mean will I see you again?”

“You’re goin’ off to college pretty damn soon, aren’t you? Doubt we’ll cross paths again until you get back, sorry to say.”

[eerna]

I'm on a book-buying ban because I literally have no space on my shelves anymore. But... I'm sort of thinking that I want to read Gideon the Ninth.................. is this book/series worth having to play extra hard-level Tetris with my shelves? (I know there's ebooks, but I don't have any device for that, and I don't want to read it on my computer. So I'd rather just have it as a physical copy. Another option could be the library - but my library doesn't have a wide selection of books, so also not an option :( ).

At this point, I'm pretty picky with my books, and try to buy only those I am pretty sure I'll enjoy and will want to reread in the future. Do you think this series is one that you can enjoy reading multiple times?

The thing is that the series is really complicated, so you will HAVE to reread the entire thing if you want to understand what is happening. There's a joke that the reading order is "book 1 - book 2 - reread book 2 - reread book 1 + 2 - book 3 - reread book 1+2+3". So idk man maybe you won't enjoy them, but yeah they are extremely rereadable. I'd suggest maybe donating or selling the books you've bought that you DON'T enjoy, so you can have more shelf space? Or looking into Scribd or other subscription services that provide audiobooks for free - those are a lifesaver for me. In any case, hope you have fun!

[daemondaes]

name: che

height: 5'3-ish. close enough to average. i can reach the top shelf, and at the end of the day, that's what matters.

nickname / s: chebureki, chechival, cheeble, chevalier, jam.

nationality: californian. 😎

favourite fruit: peach. 🥹🙏 strawberry is second. grape is third.

favourite season: spring? the benefits of summer hours with less of the summer heat. fall is nicer for layering tho

favourite scents: gasoline, bread, vanilla, citrus, books.

favourite animals: baby hippos (only baby), small dogs (esp chihuahuas), cows.

tea, coffee, hot cocoa: green tea, or else coffee with milk and, if i've been good, a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

average hours of sleep: uh. probably like 4-5 if i have to be somewhere in the morning, 8-10 if i don't.

when my blog was created: this incarnation? my earliest post was apparently 23 may 2020, so we're coming up on that 4 year anniversary 😏 but the first standalone cherry blog was from 2016? the oldest muse on here to originate on tumblr (ciel) emerged in late 2011. the oldest oldest muse on here originated off-tumblr in like 2008/9 on gaiaonline (talking abt u, naux).

# of followers: i normally wouldn't answer this, but i will tell u now that it is 365 just because that's such a satisfying number? got a buddy here for every day of the year 😎 that's a lie tho bc the number is broken and doesn't really fluctuate no matter how many people i gain or lose LOL i'm pretty sure like 4/5 people on the list are inactive tho, so please help me make more friends

random fact: my bedroom is ridiculously girly, soft pinks and pale greys and whites with gold accents, loads of pillows and plushes and decorative doodads, but i myself dress almost entirely in black. it's a little like putting wednesday in enid's room. not quite sure what that says about me.

favourite food: the humble tuna sandwich. i'm counting lemonade as a food here, just so i can add it in. i like lemonade even more than i like tuna.

favourite t.v. shows: flcl, dead boy detectives, good omens, i love lucy, king of the hill, the simpsons, lupin iii.

favourite movie: my letterboxd top 4 are some like it hot (1959), ghostbusters (1984), mad max: fury road (2015), and back to the future (1985)...but if i could have a fifth, it would be austin powers (1997).

sexuality: i like girls a lot more than i like guys, but i'm too busy and too broke to even think about that 😤

pronouns : she/they/any? idc abt labels and boxes, but it's weird that u're talking about me when i'm not there /:

favourite book series: howard the duck 😏 did you think i'd really make it to the end of this without mentioning him? this is also my chance to plug fly by night by frances hardinge, and its sequel, fly trap (or twilight robbery in the UK). there's also the monster blood tattoo trilogy by d.m. cornish that i desperately wish i'd held on to because it's apparently out of print now! my blood boils every time i remember. it would be remiss if i didn't mention a series of unfortunate events, just because i do think it was very influential for me. i'm about to reread the saga of darren shan/cirque du freak for the first time since middle school, so wish me luck 😤

favourite video game/s: god, fuckin...idk, tetris? roblox??? i'm not a gamer at all. i can't play anything unless i'm playing with a friend. that's a lie, i played baldgate3. the only thing i play is the sims 4. i'm trash

favourite subject: [scuttles around on all fours, twitching and foaming at the mouth] school bad! school BAD! (my three passions are history and fashion and film, but i don't love the academic system. Cs get degrees, etc. my own degree was in creative writing, and now i'm trapped in retail hell, so be smarter than me, kids! except also i hear even stem is useless these days? society is crumbling so bad, i—)

guys or girls: i prefer drawing guy faces and girl bodies. idk what u're getting at here

last time I cried: last night, conveniently

what I should be doing: taking out the trash, cooking up curry, cleaning the bathroom, polishing my spanish and diving into mandarin, writing, drawing, job hunting. continuing my goal of watching 365 movies this year. sweeping up the feathers of my cockatiel, galileo, because it's Moltin' Time. the usual 🤷‍♀️

favourite fandoms: i actually don't participate in fandom LOL i just lurk. chat about stuff in discord—DMs, not servers. i have so much art and music in my head, but i don't have the mobile dexterity and stamina for it anymore. maybe one day...

tagged by: @hatchetsfield (thanks, pidge!) tagging: anyone who learned a thing about me from this

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 12: The Tourists // The Hacker

HELLO ALL. I hope you're having a lovely January and I haven't missed too many cool trends or posts or what have you. Behold, a fucking monster of a chapter that I should have split into two!

some fun links! first, here is a crinoid. i didn't even make it up, that's really what it looks like. second, if you like the natural history museum as much as kirk, spock, and i do, you might like this book: otherlands. these links will make more sense after reading.

This chapter is also posted on my AO3 here. :)

Okay. Here's the chapter. Off I go again to play too much Tetris. Hugs and kisses.

☆☆☆

Kirk woke up with a crick in his neck and a twinge in his spine. His alarm sounded suspiciously far away, and it wasn’t until he peeled his eyes open that he remembered his rash decision to sleep on his couch. His alarm beeped aggressively from its spot next to his bed, and he dragged Spock’s blanket over his shoulders as he shuffled across the room to turn it off. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed as the lights came on, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of the blanket, which still held the slightest reminder of Spock.

He felt like someone had wrung out his spirit like a sponge, but at least a night of sleep had rubbed the sharpest edges off his emotions. For a moment he considered laying down on his bed, dragging the blanket back over his head, and giving up on the day before it had really begun--- but he was the captain. He had responsibilities. He pulled the blanket to his face one more time, inhaling as much as he could, before standing, dropping it back on the couch, and heading into the bathroom to shower. 

He and Spock had fought before. In the early days of his captaincy, before he had understood that the Vulcan’s questions and disagreements were the logical outputs of a logical mind and not a personal attack on his leadership, they had fought frequently. But slowly, over time, they had settled into a rhythm that forced them both to be better than either of them were individually. Kirk could only hope that they would be able to find that rhythm again. He would apologize as soon as he could find the words. As soon as he felt like a real human being again and not a faded copy of one. 

Kirk stepped out of the sonic, shaved, dressed, and left their quarters before coming to an abrupt halt. A white wall stood in silent judgment in front of him. With a sinking heart, he realized that some small part of him had been hoping that, despite everything, Spock would be standing outside the door. The turbodoor closed behind him as he stared at the wall, willing Spock to materialize. But he did not. Kirk walked down the hallway alone.

☆☆☆

Bones and Uhura were eating breakfast together at a square four-top table, but Spock was nowhere to be seen when Kirk entered the officers’ mess. Bones was probably still angry with him for vanishing out of Medbay, and if Kirk had to guess he would assume that Uhura would take Spock’s side in their breakup, if that’s what it was. Kirk had to admit that, if he were her, Kirk would too. Didn’t she say, right at the start, that he had better be good to Spock? He stood in the entrance to the mess, frozen, the beginnings of a cage forming around his lungs. He had wrecked his relationships; he had lost Spock, and then Uhura for good measure, and pushed Bones away and the woman in whom he had placed all of the trust he had left after Tarsus had lied to him and hurt Kevin in his name---

“Jim!” At the sound, Kirk snapped to attention. Bones waved at him with a half-eaten piece of toast, and when their eyes met Bones kicked the chair next to him out from the table. Kirk blinked, but made it across the mess mostly and slid into the chair Bones had indicated. 

“If there’s ever been a man more in need of a cup of joe, I haven’t met him,” Bones said to Uhura, and she nodded solemnly. 

“I was just about to get another. Would you like one, captain?” Her voice was perfectly even; her liquid-dark eyes met his without hesitation. 

“That would be nice,” he said, the first words he’d said that day coming out rough, and she nodded. As she walked away, Bones turned to him. 

“How are you holding up, Jim?” The kindness in his eyes was unexpected. Kirk, undeserving, turned away from it. 

“Are you going to remove me from command?” It wasn’t the question he meant to ask, but in the end, it was the only one that mattered. 

“Jesus Christ, Jim, absolutely not,” Bones said, shocked into stillness, and the authenticity of his reaction pulled Kirk’s eyes back to him. “You still owe me about a hundred more answers, and they had better be honest ones this time, but it’s not an impeachable offense to get in an argument. I wish you hadn’t fled while I was holding some poor kid’s skull together--- he’s fine, by the way, just an idiot--- but I’m glad you went to go talk to the lieutenant. If I had known enough about him, I would have told you to see him myself.” Bones patted his arm as Uhura approached with two steaming mugs. “You’re not suddenly a bad captain because someone lied to you, Jimmy. We’ll sort this out.” 

Uhura handed him the mug as Bones’s words settled into his mind, easing away some of the tightness that had taken root in his chest. She slipped back into her chair and wrapped both hands around her mug, breathing in the rich, warm smell. 

“Thank you,” Kirk said, sipping from his own mug. She flapped her hand at him in acknowledgement, and even that was friendly. He cast about for a safe topic of conversation before giving up on that idea. “So,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How’s Spock?” 

Uhura and Bones traded a glance that was far too immediate and synchronized to be insignificant. “He’s fine,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday lunch, though. He was working on some research project of his all night in the laboratories.” Kirk felt a slight thrill of vindication that he had guessed correctly where Spock would be, but he squashed it. 

“He’s… fine?” 

“Yes, captain,” Uhura said, in a tone that she might have adopted to explain something to a child. “He is fine. But you’re going to have to talk to him yourself if you want any more detail than that.” If Bones wasn’t angry, and Spock was fine, and Uhura was on speaking terms with Kirk, maybe, just maybe, there was a way that he could salvage his life on his ship. If he could figure out how to apologize for how he had behaved while still maintaining the boundary that he had placed between himself and Spock, maybe things could go back to normal.

Bones pushed his tray in front of Kirk as he took another sip of coffee. “Toast?” 

Grateful beyond measure for the both of them, Kirk snagged a piece. It was slightly burnt, and Bones always put an amount of jam on it that should have been illegal. It was delicious.

Kirk noticed three strange things when he stepped onto the bridge with Uhura, four minutes before the start of alpha. The first was that Scotty stood on the bridge, chatting with Sulu, when his typical work schedule indicated that he should have been down in Engineering. The second was that the science station was empty, even though Spock usually arrived six to ten minutes before the start of his shift. 

The third was that Starbase 27 loomed enormous in the viewscreen ahead of them, despite the fact that they weren’t scheduled to have been anywhere near it for another sixteen hours. Kirk blinked vigorously at the improbable sight, and then glanced to Scotty. Scotty beamed at him. 

“Morning, captain,” Scotty said, and those two words were so gleeful that Kirk half-expected steam to start whistling out from underneath his thatch of dark hair. There were a few other engineers leaning against the security station behind him, chatting amongst themselves, who also should have been down in the engine rooms rather than crowding his bridge. “Where’s your better half?” 

Kirk floundered. “In the laboratories,” he said faintly. “He was working on some research project.” 

“Isn’t he always,” Scotty said. “Well, we should wait for him to arrive.”

“Wait for? Scotty, what’s going on? How did we even get here?” Kirk gestured to the starbase in front of him, the one that should have been lightyears away from their current position. Behind him, the turbolift door slid open and Spock appeared, somber and handsome, as the ship’s clock ticked over to 0800 precisely. He tucked multiple padds into the pockets of his pants as he went straight to his station, long legs eating up the distance in three steps. 

“Mr. Spock! Just the man I wanted to see!” Scotty grinned at Spock, who straightened slowly and looked at Scotty with a completely blank face. For once half-second his eyes flicked to Kirk, as if to gauge Kirk’s thoughts on the matter, but then his gaze returned to Scotty before Kirk could react. 

“Good morning, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and his voice was gritty in the way that Kirk knew meant he hadn’t slept at all. 

“As I believe you can all tell, we have arrived at Starbase 27 a wee bit ahead of schedule,” Scotty said, clasping his hands excitedly in front of himself. He glanced at Spock again, who gave him an indulgent head tilt. “Just a wee bit. Nothing too wild. And any and all unregulated adaptations made to any and all engines have been reverted. So don’t ye worry. But, captain, commander…” Scotty looked over at the other engineers, who grinned. “Behold: yer wedding gift from the engineering department.” 

Kirk narrowed his eyes, parsing through exactly what Scotty was saying and not saying. “What did you do to the engines?” 

“Aye, never mind about that, sir,” Scotty said cheerfully. “But Janice helped us all arrange it, shift-wise. So here’s our gift to you.” 

“A starbase?” 

“As much of a honeymoon as we could provide,” Scotty said, and the engineers behind him bumped fists. “Before we pick up the brass and get real orders again. Time for you and Mr. Spock to be off-ship together.” Uhura covered her smile with one hand as Kirk’s heart sank. It was an ingenious feat of engineering, impossibly thoughtful, unbearably kind. He couldn’t possibly accept. There was no way that Spock would be willing to spend twelve hours with him on a honeymoon after yesterday, after skipping their morning routine.

“Scotty…” Kirk breathed, mentally digging for a way to let Spock out of it. But Spock’s eyes flashed to him again, and then Spock was speaking over him. 

“This is a thoughtful and considerate gift, Mr. Scott,” Spock said. “We are grateful for the effort you and your engineers exerted to do so. But,” and Kirk closed his eyes. There was the but. They were going to get divorced right here on the bridge and then Spock would leave. 

“I recommend that in the future you simply do not mention any adaptations.” Kirk opened his eyes, and Scotty beamed at Spock, who favored him with a teasing eyebrow. 

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Scotty agreed. “Mr. Kyle is waiting in the transporter room for you, at your convenience.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and finally turned to face Kirk. When his eyes met his, they were unreadable. But he said, “After you, captain.” 

“You have the conn, Scotty,” Kirk said, and with all the conviction he could muster: “Thank you.” 

“Our pleasure, captain,” Scotty said, and he took Kirk’s spot in the chair as Kirk walked on numb legs back to the turbolift. Spock walked a half step behind him, and turned to face the door as it closed between them and the bridge. Kirk’s eyes snagged on the proud set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw and the slight discoloration under his eyes that evidenced his lack of sleep. He needed to apologize. He wanted to take Spock’s hands in his again and let Spock do the awful work of sorting through his conflicting and contradictory desires. Maybe Spock could figure out the most logical path forward for them. Instead he said nothing.

Spock stopped the lift halfway to the transporter deck, and Kirk stiffened. The sudden silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Without turning to meet Kirk’s eyes, his gaze still steadily ahead, Spock asked, “Do you wish for the dissolution of our marriage, captain?” 

Kirk’s stomach dropped, and he snapped his eyes away. Of course he didn’t. If he lost Spock to another position after all of this, he would resign his commission and go back to Iowa to build ships instead. But he said, “I’ll do whatever you want, Spock.” 

“That is not an answer to the question that I posed,” Spock said. Kirk turned at Spock’s firm tone. Spock’s eyes were locked on him, his head cocked slightly, and his cold anger from yesterday had been replaced with a probing intensity. “I asked what you wanted.” 

He could lie to Spock again. He could tell him that he wanted a divorce, and free them both from the path that he had set them on. He would lose his best friend and grieve for the rest of his life, but he could force himself to say the words. But he thought of Bones’s shock-slackened face at Kirk’s admission, and Uhura’s kindness this morning even though he had been cruel to the man they both cared for, and he thought of Kevin Riley’s silent suffering at the recommendation of the woman who had shaped him. 

“No,” he said. The word was out of him before he could convince himself that it was wrong. It was reckless, maybe irresponsible, but it was what he wanted. “I don’t.”

Spock’s shoulders loosened the slightest amount, and he restarted the lift. When he looked back at Kirk at the corner of his eye, there was almost a smile in the tilt of his head. 

“Good,” he said. Kirk gaped at him, but he fixed his eyes forward again. Before he could pose any of his follow-up questions, which mainly consisted of ‘what the hell?,’ the turbolift deposited them in the empty hallway that led to the transporter. Spock stepped out, but Kirk hesitated. He at least owed Spock one more graceful exit from what was sure to be an unpleasant and awkward day.

“Spock…” 

Spock swung around immediately, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, captain?”

“We don’t have to do this,” Kirk said. 

“Clarify.” 

“You don’t even like shore leave,” Kirk said. “You could---”

“But you do,” Spock said evenly. Kirk opened his mouth, but Spock continued over him, “Your stress levels have been unacceptably high for the past eight days. Your efficiency is decreased by 10.2%, your general morale lowered by more, and I do not foresee a better opportunity for you to relieve this stress before we spend the next two weeks with the admirals onboard, which, historically, has not been what you would describe as a ‘pleasant’ experience.” 

Kirk spluttered. “My stress levels are fine, Spock---” 

“They are not,” Spock said calmly. “And I understand that human beings consider it rude to reject a gift, especially when such effort was exerted to provide it. Therefore, we are going to the starbase.” Spock turned and started walking again, and Kirk strode after him to catch up. Before Kirk could drag him around by the elbow and force Spock to explain himself, even though he didn’t have a single leg to stand on when it came to demanding explanations for anything, Spock reached the door to the transporter and it opened before him. Engineer Kyle was already at the command board, grinning at them. 

“Mazel tov, sirs,” he said, and Spock inclined his head. Kirk smiled at him as best he could and followed Spock onto the transporter pad.

“Thank you, Mr. Kyle,” Kirk said. “Energize, please.” 

They arrived in the busy transport bay of an enormous, arched hall that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. They moved rapidly off the pad as other groups around them materialized or vanished, and Spock hovered by Kirk’s shoulder as Kirk blindly made his way out of the thronging crowd and to a quiet space along the wall of the space. Above them were hovering lights of a thousand colors, combining to create something similar to natural light, and along the walls of the throughway were signs for attractions, events, sales, and locations to visit. Storefronts peppered the hall, and more species than Kirk had ever seen before in one place mingled and shopped and ate and talked. It was beautifully boisterous, and for a moment he let the noise of the crowd wash over him.

“Captain, I researched the attractions on this base before our arrival, and had intended to visit a museum of some interest if given the opportunity. I believe you would enjoy it, if you cared to accompany me.” Spock stood with his hands behind his back, peering around at the sights with his permanent scientific curiosity. 

Kirk frowned. First Bones, then Uhura, and now Spock. Where were the consequences of his outbursts from the day before? He had lost control of himself, and there were supposed to be consequences for it. Kirk turned to Spock. He should let it go, accept the second chance he’d been given, but he couldn’t help himself. Spock looked as he always did, but Kirk was the one who had been changed. Facets of his identity, the rules that he lived by, had gone unchallenged for years and overnight someone had pulled the keystone out. The arch threatened to crumble.

“Spock, what is going on?” 

“We are on a starbase---” 

“No,” Kirk said, swiping his hand through the air as if to erase what might have been Spock’s wry humor. “I don’t understand. Yesterday, I--- I was unkind to you, and I upset you, don’t pretend that I didn’t, and now we’re on a starbase and you’re talking about my general morale and asking if I want to go to a museum with you?”

Spock watched a gaggle of young Andorians in school uniforms run down the tiled pathway towards the other end of the causeway before he said quietly, “I cannot deny that I had hoped, captain, that your trust in me would be sufficient to allow me to provide assistance or support when you were distressed.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kirk started, but Spock cut him off.

“It is. And I apologize for touching you after you revoked your permission to do so, but I was concerned for you. I wished to help you. However,, captain, it would be illogical for me to refuse to consider your needs now solely because of that situation. My duties to you are quite clear.” 

To cover the rising tightness in his throat, Kirk said, “I’m fairly certain that the first officer handbook doesn’t say that you have to be nice after your captain is an asshole to you.” 

“It does not,” Spock agreed. “But as you confirmed for me earlier, ‘for better and for worse’ still applies.” Kirk stared at him, dumbfounded, as Spock watched groups of people walk by. “So yes,” he continued. “I did ask if you would like to visit the museum with me.” He turned back to Kirk with one eyebrow raised. 

Spock did not reach out to touch him, but the warm brown of his eyes, his unwavering eye contact, the familiar set of his face, had the same comforting effect as the way he had passed his hand up and down Kirk’s back. A weight fell away from Kirk’s shoulders. He had been so convinced after yesterday that he would have to work for months to earn Spock’s forgiveness, and he had been willing to do it. He had thought that he had lost Bones’s and Spock’s trust on the same day, and lost Uhura’s respect as a casualty, and instead his friends had shown him such easy grace that he felt ashamed for having doubted them. The permission that they offered to him to be imperfect blindsided him. 

“I do trust you,” Kirk said. “And I’m sorry. For how I treated you yesterday.” 

“I am aware,” Spock said. “And I accept your apology. But I do hope that someday you will trust me with whatever this may be as well.” 

Kirk wanted to tell him that it wasn’t about him at all, that he didn’t doubt Spock’s trust but his own worth. But instead, as he felt the stirrings of his first genuine smile in forty-eight hours, he said, “So what’s this museum?” Spock kept his hands clasped behind his back, but walking side-by-side with him down the causeway, alone with him in the hustling crowd, made Kirk feel as though something integral inside himself had been repaired. 

☆☆☆

“Holy shit,” Kirk breathed. Spock had been right. This was a museum of some interest. As the front-line diplomats of the Federation to new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of the Enterprise crew’s time was spent either meeting the primary sentient species on a planet or assessing its flora and fauna as a threat. He so rarely got to appreciate the infinite diversity of organic life for what it was. But this museum was a masterclass in appreciation. 

It was built into four huge levels of the base, sprawling for at least a mile on each deck, with an intricate system of stairs, elevators, and escalators placed strategically for visitors to the starbase to follow the themes of evolution that most interested them. He couldn’t fathom the effort that it must have taken to assemble a display of this magnitude: each floor was dedicated to one of the four nearest solar systems, with a series of rooms devoted to each planet in the system, split within those rooms by form or function. A veritable army must have been necessary to create the casts of the skeletons and fossils and plant life, then paint and construct and model them among murals and dioramas that depicted what the organisms may have looked like in context. The lighting on each floor and in each room was based on the solar system’s primary star, and the planet’s unique characterisitics. One room was a cheery golden light not unlike Earth’s, whereas another was hued in pinks and purples because of the makeup of the atmosphere. Kirk could have happily moved into the museum, set up a tent in one of the summery plains dioramas, and never left. 

In front of him was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen. The closest Earth analogue would have been the giant ground sloths of the Pliocene era, but only if it had been amphibian and unconstrained by Earth’s relatively heavy gravity. A cross-section of its bone had been replicated for children to touch, mounted on the wall, and Kirk couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers in wonder against the curious texture. It was pocked with holes all the way through, which made it easier for these enormous and muscular creatures to swim through the highly salty waters of their indigenous oceans. The top of Kirk’s head only came up to the complicated hip joint of the model. 

“Indeed. I would be interested to see the method by which it swims,” Spock said, peering at the hip. “The range of motion of its legs must be immense.” Spock stood comfortably next to Kirk: not pressed against his shoulder, as he might have been before yesterday, but only a few inches separated them. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, and for all that Spock had said about Kirk requiring shore leave, Kirk thought that unstructured time wandering through a museum might have been good for Spock as well. They walked slowly between the dioramas. Rather than following one of the suggested paths, they had, without discussing it, decided to move through the museum linearly in order to see every exhibit. They had the time, after all. To Kirk’s delight, he learned immediately that Spock was the type to read every single informative panel before progressing to the next room. Kirk was the same way, when he was unrushed, but Sam had never had the patience to move that slowly through museums when they were children. They passed the hours of the morning meandering slowly through the rooms of the first two floors. They learned about the entirely aquatic planet of Shindon III, where amphibious peoples lived in sprawling coral cities in places where the currents carried warm water. The oceanic sloth creature was from this world, and was called the mother of the seas because of its role as the primary underwater pollinator. They witnessed a demonstration on the mechanics of how the enormous, bear-sized otters of Shindon V used acid to hunt smaller creatures, and watched a documentary on the symbiotic relationship between the nomadic populations of Detra IV and the nimble, camel-like quadrupeds that they rode across the steppes of their mountainous planet. 

The only time that Spock was more than a few feet away from Kirk was, in another aquatic room on the second floor, Kirk moved on after reading the panels and only realized after a few moments that Spock had not followed. He doubled back through the winding sandy maze of the room until he rounded a corner and halted. Spock stood still, bathed in the blue-green light of the display panel, hands hanging open by his sides as he stared, entranced, at one of the creatures. It was called a crinoid, and some adventurous spirit had swum deep into the depths of the ocean on Detra III with a camera to film its movement. The invertebrate was made entirely of long, feather-like arms that it used to move itself with rhythmic flicking motions, and its feathers undulated in the currents of the green waters around it. For a moment Kirk watched Spock watch the crinoid. Deep beneath the veneer of professionalism, he thought that this might have been what had driven Spock to accept the five-year mission posting: this joyous curiosity, and his boundless love of the unknown. Kirk’s heart twinged to see it, and displayed so openly. 

After another minute, Spock’s shoulders jerked, as if he had given himself an allotment for wonder and his time was now up, and he turned to leave. As he turned, his eyes alighted on Kirk, who was still leaning against the wall. Kirk smiled at him genuinely, fondly; he couldn’t help himself. 

“I know you said no pets, but what about this one?” 

Spock’s eyes were soft as he came to join Kirk again, hands returning to behind his back. “I do not believe we have the capacity to responsibly house a creature such as this,” he demurred, but he looked back over his shoulder once more as they continued on. “But I admit that I found its form fascinating.” 

At the end of the second floor was a food court, and Kirk discovered that he was ravenous. There were different kiosks dedicated to the culinary traditions of the nearby systems, and he and Spock agreed to split off to find their lunches and reconvene at a table near the entrance. Unfamiliar with this region of the galaxy and with no strong preferences arising, he picked one with less of a line and headed towards it. 

“Good afternoon,” said a tall, handsome person in accented Standard. They had a shiny, waxy coating to their purplish skin, enormous brown-black eyes, and a long, intricately beaded ponytail. “What will you have?”

“I’ve no idea,” Kirk said cheerily, and scanned the menu behind them. He didn’t recognize most of the titles, but the images alongside the listings all looked wonderful, and the smell wafting from behind the counter was enticing. “Whatever you recommend for lunch, I suppose.” He glanced down at the counter before him. Among the bottled drinks were scattered trinkets and souvenirs, marked with the logo of the museum. He spied a box with a feather on the front and picked it up. Within the box was a clever little perpetual motion machine, a tiny moving simulacrum of the crinoid that had so ensnared Spock’s attention. “Whatever you recommend and this, then,” Kirk amended, and handed over his credit chip. He tucked the little box into his pocket, took the tray of something that looked and smelled delicious from the cashier, and turned to find Spock. 

Despite what Spock had said earlier, Kirk was still shocked to sit across from Spock and listen to him muse about the evolutionary implications of different organisms that they’d seen. He had expected for Spock to display a residual distaste for him, at the very least. But it seemed that Spock had genuinely accepted his apology; he met Kirk’s eyes without reserve, and, so subtly that at first Kirk didn’t realize he was doing it, rhetorically tugged at Kirk until his own scientific interest emerged. 

“Would you like to see the next two floors, captain?” Spock asked eventually, when their plates were empty. 

“Definitely,” Kirk said, and pushed his chair back to stand up. Before he could reach for his tray, however, Spock had snagged it, stacked his own on top of it, and left the table to return them to the disposal area. As he watched Spock wend through the tables, he was reminded of the day, one week previously, when Spock had insisted on carrying his tray through the mess for him. But there was no audience here, no one to convince of his intentions. 

No one except for Kirk. Kirk’s brain stuttered to a halt as he stared at Spock, methodically unloading both of their trays into the appropriate recycling receptacles. There was no way. Spock could not possibly still carry any interest in him after what he had done yesterday. He had shut down Spock’s confession, told Spock that he didn’t want to be touched by him, had forcibly erected a boundary between them and brooked no discussion. 

But, the hopeful little voice in his head whispered as it roared back to life, Spock had known that Kirk was lying. 

Spock returned from the tray disposal, and Kirk followed him onward to the next level of the museum. Though the flora around him was just as intriguing as on the first two floors, Kirk found his attention more drawn to the man beside him. Spock continued to point out different contradictions, facts he found interesting, pausing to watch the movement of different creatures, but Kirk watched Spock instead. How much had it cost Spock to pick his moment to approach him, to confess that he had enjoyed their charade for the crew? How much had it cost Spock to admit that he felt something for Kirk?

And yet, despite Kirk’s dishonesty and dismissal, he had been forgiven. Spock was here, talking quietly to him about hunting patterns, the same steady presence by his side that he had been for years. Even while Spock respected the boundary that Kirk had set and did not cross the line between them, he orbited around Kirk’s space like a planet around a star. He moved in response to Kirk’s movement, a complicated waltz that Kirk had never before been aware of. They progressed through the rest of the museum, taking the better part of four hours to do so, and they emerged at last from the last purple-black room of the museum into the warm early-evening sunlight of the central causeway. Blinking at the sudden shift, Kirk felt as if they had returned from a journey through a different time before suddenly, shockingly, returning to the present. Had the spell of the museum been broken, and Spock would remember that he should have shunned him? But Spock turned to him, a calm, settled grace in the curve of his spine, and said, “What did you think, captain?” 

“I loved it,” Kirk said, and was surprised by the force of his own response. “It was wonderful. What did you think?” 

“I found it fascinating,” Spock said. He gently steered himself and Kirk away from the exit so as to allow the other patrons to leave. “I find myself still thinking about the crinoids. I have never seen a creature such as they. If the images of them were the only exhibit in the museum, it still would have been worth the visit.” 

Kirk pulled the simulacrum from his pocket. “I got this for you,” he said, offering it to Spock. He took the little box from him and gently pulled the top flap open to reveal the machine inside. For a moment, Spock silently watched the gentle undulation of the feathers within, and Kirk watched him. When Spock finally looked back up at him, the muted delight on his face floored Kirk.

“It is beautiful,” Spock said. “I thank you.” He looked at Kirk like there was no greater gift in the universe that he could have been given than this little museum trinket; like Kirk had bestowed upon him jewels and riches beyond measure. 

“You’re welcome,” Kirk said, and looked back down the causeway, away from the weight of Spock’s warm gaze. “Dinner?” 

They wandered down the tiled pathway as the lights above them slowly shifted colors from a bright day through a cozy twilight, and the ease of the day combined with the bustle of the crowds lulled Kirk into a contented stupor. 

“Do you have a preference for anything, captain?” Spock asked, and Kirk was about to shake his head when he was hit with a wave of nostalgia so powerful that he stopped in his tracks. The smell of something deeply Iowa-like was wafting down the causeway, and it dragged him forward. 

“Whatever that is,” he breathed. He followed his nose down the way, Spock amused beside him, until he pulled up in front of a restaurant emblazoned with a neon sign: “The Best of the Midwest.” Within was a checkered linoleum floor, diner-style booths and tables, with a high-top bar in the back and cooks in the little folded paper hats he could have recognized from a mile away. His relationship with what he would call ‘home food’ was complicated for a thousand painful reasons, but what it came down to was this: if it was available, he would eat it. There were multiple buzzing packs of people waiting in front of the restaurant’s opening, and only one or two open tables inside. 

“This is where you would like to eat?” Spock’s voice was by his ear. Kirk almost nodded, but he hesitated. 

“I don’t want to wait, it’ll be hours. We can go somewhere else.” Kirk turned and almost walked directly into Spock, who had not moved. Kirk found himself with his nose nearly against Spock’s neck, and he could feel the warmth of Spock’s body as Spock looked down at him. 

“One moment, please, captain,” Spock said, and stepped around him to approach the hostess stand. Kirk turned to watch him go, and saw Spock say something to the hostess, leaning over the stand to make himself heard. She was a young human woman, no more than twenty-two, and she popped a piece of bubblegum even as she ran her finger down the paper pad in front of her. To Kirk’s surprise, she nodded and shot Spock a megawatt smile before snagging two menus from the stand and stepping out from behind it. Spock turned to meet his eyes as the hostess waited for them, and Kirk came to meet them as she led them to one of the two empty tables.

“Table for two, Mark will be taking care of you, thank you for visiting the Best of the Midwest,” she chirped, and deposited their menus on the table before heading back to her stand. Spock sat in the chair closest to the entrance and pulled one of the menus towards himself as Kirk dropped into the other chair. He put his hand flat on the menu Spock lifted, forcing it back down to the table. 

“What the hell was that, Spock?” Even as he said it, he couldn’t stop the disbelieving smile from spreading across his face, and Spock met his eyes with a deeply satisfied look. 

���A reservation is an Earth custom where one contacts a restaurant---” 

“Stop that,” Kirk said, and glanced around the table to find something that would be appropriate to throw at him. His search was fruitless. “How did you know?” 

“How did I know what, Jim?” Spock unrolled the napkin that had been set at his place and draped it over his lap as he crossed his legs under the table. They were on a first-name basis again? It was a good thing Kirk was not a betting man, because he would have lost a significant number of credits on how he thought this day would have gone. 

“All of it! This restaurant, the reservation, being on the starbase, the museum…” 

“I am sure you are intimately familiar with the sound of the ship at warp,” Spock said. 

Kirk blinked. “Sure. Don’t change the subject, though. How---” 

“I am as well, and I was awake this morning when I heard the pitch of the ship’s engines change,” Spock said. “It increased, implying that we were moving faster than we had previously. Navigation did not indicate that we were going anywhere other than our originally plotted destination. Lieutenant Commander Scott is a friend and an extraordinary engineer, if somewhat irresponsible. From these facts I surmised what might occur, and took the appropriate steps to prepare.” He raised his menu, but Kirk pressed it down again.

“So you knew we’d have leave time. But this restaurant?” 

“You have said before that when North American food, and specifically the food from your home region, is available on shore leave, you prioritize it. When I saw that this restaurant was an option and that it was popular, I only ensured that it would be available to you if you desired it.” Spock lifted his menu again, and this time Kirk retracted his hand to allow him to study the options. 

Kirk stared across the table at the Vulcan sitting across from him. His eyes traced the elegant points of his ears, the sharp angles of his eyebrows, the surprisingly soft line of his mouth. Even after Kirk had rejected his advances and lost his composure entirely, Spock had taken the time from his research project to ensure that Kirk would have what he wanted. Spock flipped the menu over. 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock did not pretend to misunderstand. He said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.” He glanced up at Kirk, chocolate brown eyes meeting his, and his expression remained self-assured and steady even when Kirk could not respond. 

Mark, a human being either from the Midwest or with a stellar ear for the accent, came to take their order before swishing off again. Kirk ordered comfort food in the form of a pork tenderloin; Spock ordered the only vegetarian option, which was macaroni and cheese. Their conversation ranged from Spock’s mistrust of the dubiously named ‘cheese product’ to their favorite organisms from the museum, when Spock pulled his crinoid from his pocket again to watch its movement fondly for a moment, and then to reminiscing about various missions.

“It might have been scientifically valuable to have retained some of the pods from Omicron Ceti III to study their healing capabilities,” Spock said at one point, and Kirk scoffed. 

“And risk losing the capabilities of the crew somewhere millions of lightyears away from help? Sounds like a nightmare, if you ask me.” 

Over their meals, Kirk admitted that he still had not told his parents that they were married, and Spock offered that, even after the blood transfusion debacle en route to Babel, his relationship with his father remained strained. As Mark cleared their plates away when they were done and subtly deposited a dessert menu between them, Kirk said, “Would you have sought out Vulcan food if you were on your own?” 

Spock threaded his fingers together, steepling them on the table. “I would not have,” he said. 

“Why?” 

“I do not feel the same connection now that I might have before,” he said. “I have access to the food, my instruments, on the ship. But after the kal-if-fee I feel no strong bond to the homeworld.” He met Kirk’s eyes. “There is no one to draw me there.” Spock’s long fingers drew delicate patterns over the table before he snagged the dessert menu and peered at it disinterestedly. 

“You asked earlier about my behavior towards you today, even after yesterday’s events,” Spock said suddenly, and Kirk’s attention, which had been drifting towards the ideas of home and sleep, snapped to him. “I told you a partial truth earlier. It is true that it would be illogical for me to ignore your needs after conflict. However, you were correct in assessing that your words perturbed me in the moment.” 

Kirk closed his eyes in a relieved sort of dread. Now, would the ramifications finally arrive? 

“I found myself to be unsettled by the idea that you would lie to me, especially when you were distressed, and I sought a period of meditation to recenter myself. You, typically, are an honest man. But in meditation I was able to understand exactly what I found so unsettling about our exchange.” There was a light knock on the table near Kirk’s hand where it rested, and he opened his eyes as Spock’s arm retracted back to his side. 

Once he had Kirk’s eyes on him, Spock said evenly, “You lie to me when you believe that it protects my safety or well-being, or that of the crew, even at the expense of your own.” 

Spock’s eyes were molten now, and scorched him. Kirk opened his mouth to argue, but Spock’s carefully guided and uncharacteristic trip down memory lane was suddenly cast in a new light. Though not intentionally, he had allowed Spock to think that he had killed him in order to end his pon farr and depart Vulcan alive. He had lied to Spock to break through the control of the spores on Omicron Ceti III, even though he had put himself at the mercy of Spock’s unbridled strength to do it. And he had lied to Spock on the journey to Babel to give him the peace of mind necessary to relinquish command and save his father, despite the still-gaping stab wound in his chest. Kirk stared at Spock as the restaurant spun around him: Spock knew. Spock knew him. Spock knew that he was hiding something, and still orchestrated a day for them to spend together with his own brand of logical, unflinching kindness, and now sat across from him and offered him safe passage through the consequences of his own actions. 

“What I have not yet deduced, regarding yesterday,” Spock said, as he laid the menu down and slid it across the table to Kirk, “is what, precisely, you believe that you are protecting me from.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Kirk, shoulders square, eyes alight. Checkmate, game to Spock. “Would you like dessert?” 

☆☆☆

“Welcome back, gentleman,” Scotty said as they materialized together in a shower of golden light onto the familiar transporter pad of the Enterprise. “How was your day?”

“Satisfactory,” Spock said.

“Great,” Kirk said.

“Sounds about right,” Scotty said, and, after shutting down the command console, followed them out of the room. “Did ye get to see the gladiator arenas?” 

Kirk laughed as Spock pulled his crinoid out. “We spent the majority of the day in the natural history museum complex,” he said, and showed the movement of the little creature to Scotty. Scotty took one glance at the undulating sea creature and shuddered. 

“Beautiful,” he said unconvincingly. “Best left in the ocean, methinks.” 

“Perhaps,” Spock said. The three of them departed for the officers’ quarters, Scotty informing them of everything they had missed on their day away. They had missed very little, and April and Pike were still scheduled to arrive late the next morning. 

“Thank you again, Scotty,” Kirk said, as they arrived at the door that used to be Spock’s. “It was a great day.” Spock inclined his head to the engineer. 

“T’was my pleasure, gentlemen,” Scotty said. “Neither of ye take enough leave as it is, and after this we’ll be out in the middle o’ nowhere for ages. I’m glad we could give ye more time to celebrate properly.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. This pleasure would be entirely linked to a gift well-given and not any unregulated engine upgrades, would it?” Spock asked. Scotty grinned at him, wolf-like, before unlocking the door and vanishing into his room, which now looked more like half of a warp core than a bedroom. The door slid shut behind him, and Kirk and Spock were left alone in the hallway. Without his input, Kirk’s feet took him to his own door, and Spock walked alongside him in companionable silence. 

At the door, Spock halted. “Did you enjoy yourself, captain?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said immediately. Spock’s eyes did not meet his, exactly; they were fixed on a point beyond his left ear. “God, yes. I…” He paused as he read Spock’s physicality: his shoulders were a tight, straight line, and his arms had vanished entirely behind his back with the force of his grip on one of his wrists. He still hadn’t made eye contact. 

“It was perfect,” he said softly. “You were right. I needed time off the ship, and it was… it was wonderful. Thank you for picking the museum, and making the reservation, and for not letting me say no this morning.” 

At his words, the tension in Spock’s posture released, and when he met Kirk’s eyes he pressed his lips together in the imperceptible motion that was almost a smile. “I am glad to be of assistance,” he said. “I will leave you to your rest.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I must review today’s work and updates from the ongoing experiments,” Spock said, and his gaze dropped away from Kirk’s face. Without the warmth of his eyes on him, Kirk suddenly felt cold. “I did not anticipate missing an entire shift before the admirals’ arrival and do not wish to be unprepared tomorrow.” 

“Right,” Kirk said. “Very logical, Mr. Spock.” 

“Thank you, captain,” Spock said. “Good night.” With one more lightning-fast glance at Kirk, expression unreadable, he nodded firmly once and turned to leave.

Kirk turned to his door to unlock it. Then he turned instead to watch Spock go. Time seemed to slow as Spock’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and each step that took Spock away from him brought forth another memory. Spock telling him that he didn’t want to leave. Spock gently teasing him in the mess. Spock catching his head in the gymnasium. Spock kissing him against the bookshelf, in front of the crew, running his hand along Kirk’s spine, taking him to the museum, making a reservation in the quiet hours before alpha shift to make sure that Kirk had what he wanted. He thought of Spock taking his tray at lunch, his delight in his little crinoid, his satisfaction at Kirk’s pleasure in the restaurant. A small seed of fear gripped him as he inhaled: what if he was wrong? But in his head, Spock’s sure, steady voice said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.”

Kirk called, “Hey, Spock!” Spock halted and spun. Their eyes met across the distance between them. Sharp-edged hope cut through him. “Do you have time to help me with something?” 

At this distance he didn’t hear Spock’s response, but his mouth formed a shape that looked like “always.” He finally turned to open his door, and by the time it swished open Spock had returned to his side. 

“What do you need, Jim?” 

They stepped inside their quarters, and Kirk waited until the door slid shut behind them. Then he said, “I need your help breaking into the Starfleet personnel directory.” 

Spock inhaled through his nose, eyebrows drawing together. “It is public access to officers, is it not?” It was a sensible question, but behind the cool facade Kirk could see the gears of interest beginning to turn.

“Most of it is. But someone lied to me. And I intend to find out why.” Kirk dropped into his office chair and booted up the console as he explained what he had done the night before. When he had brought Spock up to speed and pulled up Elise’s profile, he swapped spots with Spock, allowing Spock to have the chair and leaning over his shoulder to watch what he did. 

“And who is this person?” 

“She, ah…” Kirk started, and then blanked. Where could he even start? He didn’t want to open with, “Well, she was my Starfleet-assigned therapist at school, because I needed one.” He didn’t want to start with Tarsus. The idea of it made him nauseated. After four seconds of him choking on air, Spock said, “It is fine, Jim. You do not have to tell me.” His fingers flew nimbly over the keyboard. Then, with a slightly smug tone, he said, “I will find out who she is soon enough.” 

Kirk half-smiled at that and rapped his knuckles against the back of the chair. “I have no doubt of that.” 

After three frustrated hours, Spock was coldly radiating his distaste for Elise, the directory, and every Starfleet computer programmer who had ever lived, and Kirk was half-asleep in his uniform from that day on top of his covers, still wearing his boots.

“You ought to prepare for rest, captain,” Spock said, peering intently at the back-end code of the directory. 

“I’m not the one who stayed up all night,” Kirk said, but he dragged himself into the bathroom, changed into pajamas, and prepared for bed. He had just reentered the room, Spock still hunched over the console, when their padds dinged simultaneously. 

“I’ve got it,” Kirk said, as Spock slowly pulled his eyes away from his puzzle to regard his padd with disdain. “I’ll let you know if it’s important.” He reclaimed his padd from where it sat on his bedside table and sat down, back against his headboard and his feet crossed in front of him. He tapped open the message.

SUBJECT: RE: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: schntgaispock@enterprise

CC: jamestkirk@enterprise

From: kathleenlee@headquarters

Commander Spock,  

Greetings from afar! Thank you for this most recent contribution. Your revision is, as usual, meticulously researched and logically argued. I’ve submitted it to the upcoming regulatory board meeting as an agenda item and will keep you apprised of the outcome, though I think we can take a pretty good guess at what that will be. 

I noticed that your CO got dropped off the original message, so I’ve CC’d him here. 

Please let me know if I can be of any other assistance at this time. 

Best, 

Lt. Cmdr. Lee 

P.S. Congrats :) 

Spock frequently submitted regulation revisions; he might have been the only person in all of Starfleet to keep the regulatory board in meetings. Of course he was on smiley-face level with the regulations administrator. Spock’s recommendations were usually about research protocols, but the regulation number snagged Kirk’s attention. 6245 referred to lifesaving missions. He scrolled down to view Spock’s original message. 

SUBJECT: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: kathleenlee@headquarters

From: schntgaispock@enterprise

Lieutenant Commander Lee, 

Greetings. I have attached a regulation revision submission pertaining to food storage on deep space exploratory missions. Please see the attached report for my findings and conclusions.

LLAP, 

STS

The message had been sent at 0759 that morning, and the attachment was two hundred pages long. Was this the research project that Spock had been so absorbed in? He had been working on a regulation improvement the day that he moved into Kirk’s quarters, but hadn’t mentioned it otherwise. Kirk tapped the attachment open. He scrolled past all of the standard forms--- Spock’s name, rank, the regulation he was updating, and a thousand other useless pieces of data that Starfleet collected and never used, to the meat of the report. 

Starfleet is, in many respects, an observatory organization. Though it performs admirably as the diplomatic arm of the Federation when engaging new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of Starfleet man-hours are spent on scientific research in space, far from the turbulence of on-world life.

However, when called to do so, Starfleet ships can and do act as the first responders to crises. There are not many important similarities between the populations that comprise the Federation, but one universal constant is the need for sustenance. Exploratory vessels are frequently the first ones to receive distress signals from far-lying locales, there are infrequent opportunities to restock solid supplies in deep space, and the small scale at which food can be replicated can hinder lifesaving efforts. This report will analyze five previous instances of Starfleet’s reaction to crises before making recommendations for regulatory updates to advance and improve Starfleet’s capacity to respond to acute and life-threatening scenarios. The primary lesson of the case studies presented, and the primary recommendation of the author, is that all California-class ships and newer and all ships commanded one (1) or more AU beyond the current boundaries of Federation space should henceforth increase the volume of solid, unreplicated, immediate-use foodstuffs maintained onboard by 235% from current standards. The mathematical model for this increase is attached to this report as Annex A. 

Kirk pressed one shaking hand to his mouth and continued skimming. Spock had meticulously detailed five lifesaving missions that Starfleet ships had undertaken, outside the normal purview of their work, analyzing common successes and failures before wrapping them into a tidy, logical conclusion of how to save lives. He had listed a planet whose entire sky had been blackened for three years by volcanic eruptions, a generations ship whose soil recycler had broken down, and three agricultural planets that, for one reason or another, had devolved into complete famine: Alexii I, Gradient V, and Tarsus IV. 

He downloaded the report and looked at the metadata. The document had been created two hours after he told Spock why the broken replicators made his heartbeat skyrocket. Kirk turned to stare at Spock, who still bent determinedly over his console, having eschewed the touchpad entirely to type commands directly into the black screen. He looked down at the report in his hands.

“Residual stress,” Kirk had said, when he hedged around genocide by calling it a period of scarcity. He had tried to keep Spock from seeing how it haunted him, and Spock had offered him a hand in comfort and his faith in Kirk’s abilities before moving on, which was far more than Kirk had expected. Kirk had thought that that would be the end of the conversation. But then Spock had forsaken sleep to move the entirety of Starfleet’s behemoth interstellar bureaucracy with the strength of his will alone, so that Kirk might feel more secure. Even after their fight, after Spock had left their quarters, he still spent his entire day on an effort that would make Kirk’s life easier. 

And he had left Kirk off the message. If Kathleen Lee hadn’t looped him back in on her response, Kirk would never have known of the monumental act of service that Spock had done for him. Kirk stared at the back of Spock’s head, the sleek hair that hid his beautiful mind, and it was at that moment that Spock spun, triumphant. 

“Jim, I believe that I---” Spock halted at the expression on Kirk’s face, eyes glancing to his padd and back up. Kirk stared at him, seeing his dear, dear face for the first time again, as something fiery and huge, uncontrollable, unfolded in his chest. Spock had not thought him weak, or unreliable, or untrustworthy. He had accepted Kirk’s fears and needs as fact and shifted the universe around him to accommodate him instead. Kirk had challenged him, lied to him, and pushed him away, and yet Spock had remained steadfastly where he had been for years: by Kirk’s side.

“I have gained access to her service record,” Spock said. “What are you reading?” 

“Your report,” Kirk said hoarsely. “You… did this?” Spock slid the padd from his limp hand and flipped it around to look down on it. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “I did.” 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock’s eyes, warm and open, met his, and he tilted his head as if to say, “I’ve already told you why.” Kirk’s breath caught in his chest as the wall between his head and his heart crumbled entirely. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse. Spock had proven that he was willing to take Kirk at his worst, as much of it as Kirk had been able to show. But what did better even mean, for someone like him?

His eyes slipped to the console behind Spock. If Elise had not been a real medical professional, then an enormous aspect of his so-called recovery had been a sham. If his recovery had been falsified, strategically manipulated, then there might be a reason for his continued struggle beyond his own weakness.

If he was still hurting so badly because he had been refused help, then maybe that meant that he could still get better. Spock deserved better. 

He made his decision; he reached for Spock. 

Kirk shifted to the end of the bed and closed the space between them. He took the padd out of Spock’s grasp and slid his hand into Spock’s, pressing their palms together. For a second Spock sat, unmoving, staring down at Kirk’s hand in his, and Kirk waited for him, serene in his choice, trusting Spock to respond when he would. 

With the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes, Spock took his hand in both of his own and raised them to press Kirk’s palm flat against his chest. His eyes closed as their fingers threaded together. He felt Spock’s steady heartbeat through his shirt, the warmth of his body. 

“I need to tell you something,” Kirk whispered, and Spock’s eyes opened. 

“You can tell me anything, Jim,” Spock said, and Kirk felt the rumble of his voice through his palm. He opened his mouth to say it, to tell him, and his throat constricted. He felt the panic trickle through his bloodstream, and Spock’s expression turned concerned. Kirk looked down at his lap to the padd sitting in his other hand. 

Spock already knew about what had happened on Tarsus, if he had created this report with Starfleet resources. He just needed Kirk to connect the dots. Kirk bit his lip and rapidly paged through it. He pulled up the correct page, with its clinical TARSUS IV heading, and turned it back around to show Spock. Spock glanced between it and him, eyebrows pulling together. Then he blinked, and his hands tightened over Kirk’s. 

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Kirk said, and his voice cracked. His stomach heaved with nerves. Spock’s eyes scanned over his face before dropping back to his report. He took it and turned to put it on the desk even as he kept Kirk’s hand pressed to him. 

“You are one of the survivors,” Spock said, and Kirk nodded, clenching his jaw against his sudden nausea. For a moment Spock considered, his thumb rubbing slowly over the back of Kirk’s hand, and Kirk saw the fine muscles in his jaw twitch as he sorted through whatever he was thinking. But for once, the waiting didn’t fuel his anxiety. Though seeing the brutality of Tarsus in print sent spikes of panic through him, and telling him now made him feel sick, the knowledge of Spock’s report and everything it meant to him was the bulkhead between him and his ghosts. He was safe in his quarters, on the Enterprise, and Spock was with him, holding his hand. 

Spock nodded, like he had made some decision, and he stood, dragging Kirk up with him by their connected hands.

“Jim,” Spock said. “May I touch you?” Kirk met his eyes and nodded. Spock slid one hand along his outstretched arm, running it up his shoulder, until he was cupping the back of Kirk’s neck. The other hand he wrapped around Kirk’s, cradling it against his chest, and he stepped forward until they were sharing breath. Then he released Kirk’s hand, wrapped his other arm around Kirk’s waist, and hugged him tightly to him, pressing him to the length of his body. The thumb of one hand smoothed down the short, shorn hair at the back of his neck, and the other arm held Kirk flush against him. He rested his cheek against the side of Kirk’s head and breathed.

Kirk wrapped both arms around Spock’s waist, and he buried his face in the side of his neck, and he let himself be held. He leaned against Spock’s warm solidity and breathed in time with him, until Spock pulled back to look down at his face. 

“Is this what you would protect me from?” 

“Partially,” Kirk said. Spock waited. “And from what came after.” 

“Your nightmare from yesterday morning,” Spock said, and Kirk blinked, bemused, as he remembered that the dream hadn’t even been about Tarsus. It had been about Elise. 

“Yes. No. Adjacent,” he said, and leaned around Spock to look at the screen of his console. The screen was filled with text that he couldn’t read at this distance, but Spock had said that he had found her information. “What did you find?” 

“Are you intentionally changing the subject?” 

“I’m not, honest,” Kirk said. “It’s related.” Spock’s eyes narrowed. 

“How do you know this woman?” 

“What did you find in her profile?” 

Kirk stared him down, and Spock broke first. He reluctantly released his hand from the back of Kirk’s neck, but kept his other hand on his lower back as he turned back to the console. 

“Her entire file is redacted,” he said. “Everything that she did after her first posting is confidential. I have some theories about what her career may mean, but I will need to conduct more research first. I would state, with 97.4% certainty, that she was an officer with Starfleet Information and Intelligence Operations.” 

Kirk’s whole body went cold in a shiver. “Like a spy?” 

“I do not believe so,” Spock said thoughtfully. “More in line with propaganda, or information access and control.” 

“Huh,” Kirk said. His hands had gone numb. “That might be worse, actually.” Spock wrapped a hand around his wrist, but instead of it feeling like a cage, it became an anchor.

“Please sit down,” Spock said, and steered him back to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt in front of him, hands bracketing him on the bed frame. “You are unwell. I apologize, Jim, for---” 

“No,” Kirk croaked as his throat tightened. “I asked. I need to know.” 

“Who is she to you, Jim?” Every angle of Spock’s body, his entire focus, was attuned to Kirk. When they had first met, Kirk had been unsettled by his inhuman intensity. Now he was comforted by it. Maybe the Spock protocol would apply to every area of his life.

“Starfleet assigned her as my therapist when I got to the Academy,” he said. “I thought she was a psychologist until four days ago.” 

“Four years after you were rescued from Tarsus IV,” Spock said. Kirk nodded. “You were eighteen.” Kirk nodded. Spock bowed his head, staring pensively at Kirk’s knees. Then the material of the bed frame cracked under his hands. He unclenched his hands from the ruined wood and glanced at the splinters reproachfully before flexing them open. 

“My apologies, captain,” Spock said, and one corner of Kirk’s mouth twitched up, despite himself, as he reclaimed one of Spock’s hands. He held it in his lap between both of his. 

“It wasn’t just me,” he said. “I know of another survivor who also had her. He confirmed to me that she used us to keep each other quiet.” 

Spock’s eyebrows pulled together. “The sequence of events on Tarsus IV has been extensively documented. The only unanswered question that I was able to find was---” 

“Kodos,” Kirk said, and his stomach heaved again. When was the last time he had said that name aloud? In his mind, a flash of gray hair, and the wet spatter of blood on dirt. Bile rose in his throat and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk with concern. “Do you have any theories as to why information control would be necessary amongst the survivors?”

The answer came to him immediately. It was what had so upset Dr. Johns during his physical recovery, the first topic that Elise had convinced him to keep inside. He saw the fire, and the flash of the gun, and the body. He nodded even as his chest tightened and his stomach flipped inside-out. 

He tried to speak, and his jaw clenched. He tried to speak, and his tongue swelled in his mouth as his brain filled with the buzzing static of an impending meltdown. Be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead---

He closed his eyes as the nausea swelled inside him and pressed a hand to his face. 

“Jim?” Spock was very close to him, his voice gentle, and Kirk could feel the warmth of him. He leaned forward, seeking him, and Spock pressed his forehead against his. “Be still,” he said, and Kirk nodded against him, tamping down the urge to vomit or pass out.

Kirk opened his eyes. Spock still knelt in front of him, hands braced on the mattress by his hips, face scant inches from his. “We do not have to continue this discussion at this moment. I will call the doctor if you are ill, and we can broach the subject again when you are better.” His apparent concern warmed Kirk, but if they didn’t keep going now, he was afraid that he wouldn’t have the courage to continue tomorrow.

“I want to tell you,” Kirk said, and for the first time in his life, he meant it. “She--- I need to know why she did this to us. So I can start to fix it. But I--- I can’t. I can’t say it.” Even talking about talking about what he had seen threatened to overwhelm him, and it was only Spock’s hands, coming up to his shoulders, that kept him upright.

“Do you wish to show me?” Kirk looked up in surprise. Spock’s gaze was steady. 

“No, Spock, you don’t want to---”

“I would not have offered if I did not mean it.” 

Kirk swallowed, his throat like sandpaper. “This is going to be the ‘worse’ part of ‘for better and for worse.’” 

“No caveats,” said Spock. “Jim, let me help you.” Kirk paused, his head spinning, and then nodded. Spock stood, stepped away to remove his boots and place them meticulously by the door, and then returned to Kirk. 

“Please lay back,” Spock said. “I believe it will be more comfortable for you.” Kirk scooted himself backwards and lay down, and Spock laid down next to him. He rolled over to face him, Spock lying alongside him. 

“Somehow, when I thought about the first time we might share a bed, this wasn’t how I imagined it happening,” Kirk whispered, and he half-smiled despite his fear. 

“But you did imagine it,” Spock said, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Jim, are you prepared?”

“No,” Kirk said, and laughed weakly. “But go ahead anyway.” As Spock lifted one hand to Kirk’s face, he reached between them with the other. Kirk met his hand and laced their fingers together. Spock’s fingers settled along Kirk’s psi-points, and he closed his eyes. 

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.” 

[mashiee]

Arlo headcanons please please please gimme

hrmhehahaheheaysysh

ok so

i hc that he has 4 older siblings, but was separated from them pretty early on due to [REDACTED] so he was practically alone his whole life, with the occasional step in from valerie

*[REDACTED] is a whole Thing, so send another ask in if you want me to talk about it and go into detail abt my hcs for arlo family/family dynamic(s)

this is very much why he so easily believes her and why he seems so much more adamant about the hierarchy compared to other characters

also why he acts like an only child despite having four older siblings

his sister has tried to reconnect with him but its a work in progress

he collects antique buttons and very much has a hyper fixation on them

yes he is autistic, tbh i probably dont even have to say that

bee allergy, esp hornets

hates wearing shorts outside would rather die than wear them out it feels so weird to him

honestly im not entirely sure what i hc arlos gender. it tends to switch between cismasc and amab demiboy. also sometimes tho its amab nonbinary or agender

also a bit unsure about pronouns. he/him for now but if i end up going for nonbinary or agender later on probably it/its pronouns. or maybe they/them

speaking of being queer he has internalized homophobia (possibly via valerie) so he probably doesnt come out until much later in life

he struggles with allowing himself to be feminine or sometimes even androgynous. was taught growing up that he has to be masculine and strong

its being worked on

plays animal crossing a lot

probably the only video game he plays. aside from maybe like. tetris

probably plays with elaine whether he knows its her or not

gay asexual

says he prefers dogs bc theyre more obedient but in reality he prefers cats

multiple times in a week he'll have moments where he'll suddenly Realize just exactly how Tall. he is

prefers reading over movies/tv/yt/etc. it just isnt as interesting to him. also he prefers things that are physical and that he can feel

acts all superior and shit but in reality hes super self deprecating and thinks he'll never amount to what is expected of him

was deprived of having hobbies and playing as a child so he's very much discovering his inner child as he grows and gets further away from the box he tries to mold into

likes adult coloring books a lot

cant stand repeating sounds it makes him dissociate

derealizes a lot

cant recognize himself in a mirror most of the time so he just. doesnt have them. and when in places that do have them he wont look at them. like if he's in the bathroom he'll look down the entire time he wont look up

same reason why he hates photos

absolutely despises mashed potatoes they are so slimey and disgusting

sometimes i consider hcing him as being 18-19 instead of 17-18 bc like. a lot of autistic children repeat kindergarten for lack of communication/interaction with other children

at the same time tho i feel like valerie wouldnt have allowed that

is a cat person

both in that he prefers cats and also that hes a wet cat

he never actually fights people he just crushes them w his barrier or lets them suffer the backlash from attacking it and then moves on

therefore he is weak asf and has no body strength. mr mans has noodle arms

long eyelashes

like john hes also vampire tier but hes sophisticated whereas john is like... feral vampire

sometimes i hc him as british and having an english accent bc i think its funny

can cook enough to survive but its mediocre

cannot handle ANY amount of spicy

pepper and any form of mint is spicy to him

hates mushrooms

has tried weed exactly two (2) times and has hated it both times

in his words "i felt like a coffee grinder with nothing to grind"

why do you, as a man, feel like you need something to grind? do you want to grind on a man?? is that it?? gay

the first person who convinced him to try it was a combo of rei and kuyo, the second time it was holden

arlo still questions why he did it the second time KNOWING he wouldnt like it

theres a senior chat and arlo got named "Big Daddy" in the chat by holden and he has no idea how to change it and no one will tell him so he just suffers

you would think as a king or whatever hed know how to blackmail ppl to get them to do what he wants but he actually doesnt

people just automatically listen to him so when hes faced with someone who wont, he either broods about it or straight up attacks them. sometimes both

more arlo stuff: arlo sibling info | [REDACTED]