toerrishum4n

[toerrishum4n]

DabuQlu’DI’ yISuv!

“When threatened, fight!”

[toerrishum4n]

the soft look on spock's face when jim defends him against bigotry has bewitched me. look at this. can anyone hear me

STILES: They'll be back. Not just one ship but with everything they've got. You know that, Mister Science Officer. You're the expert on these people. Always left out that one point. Why? I'm very interested in why. KIRK: Sit down, Mister.

KIRK: Well, here's one thing you can be sure of, Mister. Leave any bigotry in your quarters. There's no room for it on the Bridge. Do I make myself clear?

these moments are some of the most vulnerable we ever see him and they are so explicitly framed as "when nobody's watching" shots (even though there are people in the room). spock feeling pure awe at his friend's loyalty to him. I AM YELLING

[toerrishum4n]

reblog to save a life

Every named Crew Member of the USS Enterprise's historic five-year mission in Star Trek: The Original Series.

[toerrishum4n]

Where No Man Has Gone Before Teaser

Jim launched himself out of the turbolift and entered medbay to a cacophony that nearly pushed him back out the door. Nurse Practitioner, Christine Chapel nearly collided with him and gave him a glare before realizing it was the Captain and hurried away looking disgruntled, but without a word. Jim saw dozens of officers, and visited with any that greeted him, thanking them for their work, and wishing them a swift recovery as they were each vital to ship operations.

Only once he got to the corner of the room did he see Spock.

The science officer was unconscious on a biobed, his vitals thrumming ominously over him. His appearance made Jim stop in his tracks and sent his heart to his throat.

His usually smooth, pale, almost-green face was now marred and mottled darker green and yellow. His usually down-tilted eyebrows were all but gone, burned off, and his dark hair was singed, high on his forehead. Jim noticed with a swoop of nausea that even his long dark eyelashes were burnt off, leaving him looking…wrong, and it caught Jim like a gust of wind. He blinked rapidly, unsure why it disturbed him so—dozens of his crew were equally damaged, and yet he’d been able to keep his captainly façade, encouraging them without staring in horror.

Bones stormed over then.

“Jim, he’ll be fine. All that Vulcanness makes him hardier than an ox. We finished his first round of dermal regeneration, and his hearing will be out for a while, otherwise he’s just gotta rest. He’s in one of those Vulcan healing things right now. Personally, I think he’s faking it to avoid me…” Bones grumbled.

Bones could be…crochety. But he’d stuck to Jim’s side like a magnet ever since Jim’s older brother, Sam had found other things to occupy him than his sad little brother after everything on Tarsus IV. Bones was like his older brother-cousin-friend who had been there during the darkest days, and didn’t look away when things got ugly. And despite his sharper edges, the man was the best doctor to ever graduate from Starfleet Academy and could heal just about any critter he got his paws on.

“I’ll say this for him. He apparently dragged a dozen or so officers to safety before finally collapsing himself. Finney reported that he kept going in, coming back out looking worse each time. He finally collapsed after sealing off the labs.” Bones reported as Jim looked on. “Jim you alright?” he asked, grasping Jim’s shoulder companionably.

“Oh, yeah,” Jim started somewhat then shrugged. “Just the adrenaline coming down y’know…” He couldn’t quite meet Bones’ eyes, and left medbay pretty soon after.

Jim walked back to his quarters in a bit of a haze. He told himself it was because of the shock of the day, their first big trials and loss as a crew. And that was true…

But he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had when he saw Spock...the feeling he'd had when he was told he’d be okay, but had come so close to not being okay. 

If Jim was being honest with himself, he had noticed how beautiful his first officer the moment he’d seen him. But that was hardly unusual. Jim was attracted to basically every third person he encountered, with little in the way of a consistent pattern, except they were always beautiful. And Spock, with his long, tall stance, his dark and expressive eyes, provokingly soft mouth, and the sharp lines of his face was certainly that. He was unlike anyone Jim had ever met, human, Vulcan or otherwise.

But then he spoke. And watched Jim like a hawk. And cited regulations and questioned the logic of his decisions at every turn. He was never insubordinate, but he took his duties as First Officer…seriously. Beautiful he may be but Jim never realized just how challengingly exacting Vulcans could be. His own nerves in the first few months had likely compounded the issues, since he too was worried he would make a mistake, get someone hurt, or just be the worst captain ever.

But as they’d found their rhythm together, Jim had almost been startled when he began to read more expression in the deep eyes. Spock insisted he did not “feel” as he was sometimes accused, but Jim had met other Vulcans before.

None of them had eyes like Spock’s.

Jim also began to realize that Spock often seemed to…joke. He would feign ignorance, or play up the “unfeeling Vulcan” that everyone expected, and more than once Jim watched him do this blatantly to Bones, just to get a rise out of him.

Bones, for his part, was determined to dislike Spock after Jim had complained about him in those first few months, and the two of them would bicker across Jim, like two devils on his shoulder. Spock would begin to take apart each human metaphor and expression that Bones used (and that Jim knew Spock did understand) as if confused about their literal meaning. It always succeeded in maddening Bones, and Jim could swear Spock was doing it on purpose to irritate the doctor.

Over the two weeks it took them to get to the space station, Jim took what time he could to go check on his First Officer. And he couldn’t help noticing the intense relief he felt with every visit, seeing him improve, and finally one day when Jim entered, he was even awake.

“Mr. Spock,” Jim said, as the deep brown eyes found him. He hoped his voice sounded level.

“Captain,” Spock greeted, inclining his head somewhat.

“It has been brought to my attention that you rescued fourteen people from the labs, putting yourself at considerable risk and sustaining serious injuries.”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Spock recited. Jim nodded.

“Well…well done Mr. Spock. Your service to your fellow crewmembers is admirable, and you will receive full commendations for your actions.” Jim said. He felt distinctly awkward, and noticed that he was wringing his hands. He put them at his sides.

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock nodded placidly. Jim suddenly felt like he had no idea what else to say, and before he could really be aware of it, he excused himself and left.

Get it together, Jim thought vehemently, berating himself as he made his way down the hall again.

He didn’t want things to go back to how they had been in the first few months just because Jim couldn’t stop envisioning Spock fireman carrying two men at once out of the flaming lab. Jim shook himself mentally. He had to devise a plan to keep him and Spock on their friendly trajectory without encouraging his own adolescent fantasies.

[toerrishum4n]

🙂‍↕️mirror mckirk

[toerrishum4n]

idk if you did this already but could you please change spock and kirk's lirpas from amok time to yaoi paddles

you say “idk if you did this already” as if this is something that would naturally occur to me

[toerrishum4n]

Good news!

(^sarcasm)

I am furloughed from my job for up to 8 weeks. So you can expect a lot more wip posts. Thanks for all the love so far its very rewarding especially while shit is crazy in my life.

[toerrishum4n]

The Naked Time Teaser

He was on Vulcan, on his parents’ estate after returning with his parents from visiting Earth from his fifth to his sixth year. He had been invited to join a group of children who were socializing. His mother had seemed unsure, but his father had encouraged Spock to join his peers. After a year of being isolated from Terran children, who thought he would tattle on them, he was eager to meet other Vulcan children again and prove himself.

He straightened his shoulders and stepped out their front door, his heart fluttering in his side. The group of solemn children had all stated their names, and Spock did likewise, and then without further formality, they all walked purposefully to a local park. Spock had thought he did an admirable job keeping pace and mirroring them. The oldest, Ston led the way into the park, to an area that Spock noted for its privacy. He wondered whether Vulcan children played “games” as Terran children had incessantly insisted on.

Ston suddenly turned, and the children formed a half circle around Spock.

“You are a Terran, yes?” Ston asked.

“I am half Vulcan, and half human,” Spock replied.

“Why did your father bond with a Terran?” Anauk asked.

“As an ambassador for Vulcans on Earth, he found it to be a logical—” Spock tried to repeat what his father had explained about gaining cultural understandings of each other. It would be logical for them to be curious at this unorthodox, indeed, completely unheard of pairing.

“So, are you weak like a Terran?” Anauk asked, and putting his theory into practice, pushed Spock, who had indeed fallen over, unexpected as the attack had been.

“He is weak. And look at his face. He emotes. Are you sure this is not simply a human they have given surgical alterations to?” Oratt asked. Spock pushed himself back up.

“I am Vulcan!” He urged, unable to conceal his rage.

“Do not lie. You are a weak Terran. It is just like Terrans to lie.” Ston pushed him again, and this time his hands hit the ground first, hard enough that his sensitive palms scraped against the concrete. He cried out in pain and his eyes burned with tears as the older Vulcan children continued to ask questions about him to each other as if examining a strange animal they had found.

Spock felt his humiliation and rage billow in his body as he pushed himself to his feet once again and turned to the children. He bared his palms, the green blood collecting at the abrasion.

“I am Vulcan!” He shouted, brandishing his green blood at them, desperate for them to understand.

Just then the park gate clanged, and they all started, turning and seeing Amanda Greyson striding quickly towards them from the park entrance. The other children bolted, running from the human woman whose face was a mask of stoicism.

She approached Spock, who stood alone, trembling and sobbing. She lifted him into her arms and carried him all the way back to the estate.

He was just about too big to be comfortably carried, and she hadn’t done this in a long time, but she did not put him down until they reached their own kitchen, where his own sobs had subsided to hiccupping gasps.

When she set him down, she took his wounded hands in her own which shook slightly, before finding the antiseptic and dermal regenerator. As she collected the first aid items, he noticed that she too now had tears on her face, and her mask of stoicism had slipped, replaced by something incomprehensible to Spock at the time.

She had healed his hands, and placed them, palms together and enfolded into her own, before reaching for his face and wiping his face clean of his tears with a warm damp cloth.

*_*_*

Now, as he braced himself against the door in the quiet briefing room, his eidetic memory showed him that as she held his hands and as he watched her face, he had felt and known the deepest well of love and concern wash over him. Her face had been one of righteous anger, and sorrow for her son. Her emotions had been the same, but she’d channeled them quickly into safety and care and warmth so that as he received her ministrations he would feel held and safe.

He wept for a moment more at the memory, realizing how carefully his mother had parented her mixed heritage son. He had to meditate. To do something to put his emotions back where they belonged. He had never, in all his adulthood or even adolescence had such an emotional lapse that he lost control in this manner, and something was very much awry on the ship. He was needed on the bridge.

“I am in control of my emotions.” He declared, out loud, as another sob clawed at his chest, tightening his throat.

[toerrishum4n]

happy pride month

[toerrishum4n]

Tarsus IV Teaser

Jim and Sam had their own rooms, but Sam would use Jim's to sneak in and out of the apartment. One night when they had been on Tarsus IV for around six months, Jim heard the telltale tap at the window.

Jim had gotten tired of helping Sam in and out of the apartment. The windows were all sticky, and it took both of them pulling--Sam from a lower vantage point on the ground outside--for them to get it open and let Sam back in. So tonight, after six months, Jim pretended not to hear it. The window slowly, haltingly slid open just a crack.

“Come on Jimmy, open the window!” Sam hissed. Jim continued to pretend to sleep, to not hear. “Come on, those old bags probably have their hearing aids out and won’t hear anything!” he called. But Jim still didn’t respond.

The window inched open with grunts of effort over the next two minutes, finally enough that Sam squeezed through. When he had, he shook Jim by the shoulder.

“Are you serious??” Sam demanded. “What are you, a goody two shoes??” Jim still didn’t answer, curled in on himself angrily.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

Sam started and scrambled to hide under Jim’s bed. Jim unfurled himself from the blankets and walked over to the door, opening it. In the hall, a slumped, shirtless Leonard squinted sleepily down at Jim.

“Hey, kid, you okay? Thought I heard something,” Leonard rasped groggily.

Jim didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t rat his brother out...

Before he could decide, Leonard’s attention had been diverted. “Hey, what’s that window doing open? Do you want me to close it? It’s cold out tonight.” Jim nodded, and Leonard crossed to the window and shoved it shut. “These cheap windows are real sticky.” He mused.

As he turned, Jim watched Sam’s hand reach out from under the bed, groping in the dark for Leonard’s ankle. Something in Jim’s expression must have tipped it off cause Leonard looked down just in time. At the sight of the pale hand grasping from under the bed, he leapt into the air, gasping and swearing.

Leonard stumbled back and landed hard on the floor as Sam’s cackle emitted from the gap under the bed. He snaked out to observe his handiwork.

Seeing Leonard's face flush, Jim felt his own face heat. “Stop it!” he reprimanded Sam. He didn’t want Leonard to think he’d been in on the dumb prank. “Are you okay?” Jim asked and offered a hand to the lanky teen.

“You are a goodie two shoes!” Sam retorted, and then sauntered out of the room, still laughing.

Leonard took Jim’s hand and stood. “I’m alright, kid, just startled me is all,” he sighed. “I tell ya, I never had brothers. Are they all like yours?” he asked.

Jim shrugged, once again unsure what to say, but his face burned at the impression his brother was giving their hosts.

Leonard huffed a dry chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, well. Goodnight, Jim.” He left, pulling the door shut with a soft click, once again leaving Jim alone in the dark room.

[toerrishum4n]

Oh Hello

Just a heads up that this blog will be dedicated to posting snippets of what I'm working on. probably no one will see it anyway sooo. Gear up, no one! I've been working through TOS episodes and basically reworking it to what I think it should be. This is a project by me, for me. So its gonna be whumpier and gayer. you have been warned.

[toerrishum4n]

This was a delight to read from beginning to end plus some mystery involved?? ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#my fanfiction recommendation column

ten degrees below zero by kianspo

james t. kirk / s'chn t'gai spock

This is, without a doubt, one of the best fanfictions I've read in general, especially in Star Trek, especially in K/S (it's second on my personal list and I don't think it'll be replaced anytime soon). And while kianspo is best known for her portrayal of Spock (especially in Don't Stop Believing, which I plan to reread one day and also write about), I love her for her Jim. This is honestly one of the best reads of his character overall, and somehow she manages to keep him somewhere in the middle between his representations in AOS and TOS. In general, this balancing act between the original series and the reboot is inherent in all of her works; the way she reads K/S in their unwavering absoluteness, their constant magnitude, makes her work so... fundamental, and so clear, I think.

For me, this story is special in a strange, imperceptible way. And I find it particularly comfortable in its chamberliness, in this small, closed, cold space, over which unstoppable change looms. And they wear parkas here, and it's somehow incredibly cozy. This is an exceptional AU with a beautifully constructed world that both repels and draws you in; the way the characters behave in it is an organic continuation of the environment in which they find themselves.

As always, a few (almost non-spoiler) quotes, because it's beautifully written, really beautifully, and you need to read it:

“What are you doing here, Lieutenant Spock?” he asks quietly, as if voicing his inner thoughts rather than expecting an answer. “Someone like you should be anywhere but here.” Spock puts his fork down, takes a sip of sharib. “My mother is fond of saying that, at any given time, we are where we are needed the most, and where we most need to be.”

“I have learned early on, however, that violence ultimately solves nothing, even if one is victorious.” “Really.” Kirk’s voice is saturated with intense curiosity. “So, how early on are we talking about?” Spock considers this. “I was six.”

“You are a singularly frustrating individual,” he informs Kirk. Kirk snorts. “We’re a match, then.”

He doesn’t have to look to know Kirk is grinning. “Then someone reminded me I had a duty to the people in my charge, and being righteously pissed at the way the universe is run has never gotten anyone anywhere. A pretty obnoxious someone, I might add, but—I don’t know, I seem to be into it.” Spock suppresses a smile.

“Spock, you’re the kind of officer I thought had died out with my father’s generation. If I had a starship under my command, I would stop at nothing—listen to me carefully, nothing—I would bribe, blackmail, seduce, threaten, beg—hell, I’d probably cut off my right arm to have you serving with me.” A sharp wave of heat washes over Spock at the words, the charge of absolute truth, of intent so thick it’s almost tangible against his skin.

“I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you, but it’s…” Spock feels his eyebrow arch. “Neither would… slow my heart rate.” Kirk snorts, more laughter torn out of him, helpless and real and— Beautiful. Spock doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he remembers smiling.

Falling in love is a misnomer. It’s not a singular event; it’s an infinite process that starts once and never really stops. Well, for some people, perhaps, but not for Spock. He will never again stand on solid ground, assured of every step.