traiilblazer

[traiilblazer]

sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another

blossoming romance writing prompts.

ON EARTH, YEARS FROM NOW, Spock would look back on this moment and wonder if Jim possessed a measure of foresight despite the ever-moving target of Jim’s own mind.

He tells himself that they will have grown well — having grown old together — entangling themselves with a brilliant network of gold-work and red string, fingers that have crossed and creased with age, uncaring of the universe that had taken to watch them as they traveled the stars side by side.

They have known each other through listless dreams. Jim’s were always forward, reaching and looking upward, staring out and past everything else, even if Jim was trapped in the veil of youth, enamored by the human’s first love of space.

Who was Spock to compete with the breadth of them all: the stars, white hot and outlasting even the desert, more beautiful than death?

It was Spock that brought the Captain to a slow — no longer a shade of time, yellow streaks at the edge of Spock’s eyes — but never a stand still. He had attempted for so long not to give thought to the ephemerality of life — of Jim’s in particular — human and so finite; all Spock ever wanted was to remain at Jim’s side.

Like a comet to the earth, they collided, but his thoughts were bound to him before they could exist, until eventually, it transformed cracked rock and steaming crimson fissures, stalling the smoke that had undone an entire species.

Lying against the grass, he looks up at the night, hands interwoven into Jim’s when Jim asks him, “ Did you ever see yourself here? ”

—calm, he thinks Jim means, eyes cooled. Or perhaps, a universe beyond duty and the humming tone of the ship’s breathing; they left the Enterprise to younger, better hands.

He feels Jim shift, lines of old age and gray hair shining in the corner of Spock's vision. The addition rattles him, “ With me. After all this time. ”

—illogical, as always, and even now.

Gently tightening his grip, there is no hesitation, thinking not to the beginning but the very end of all things. Spock can envision the fields within himself, long wheat grass that Jim had seeded at the edge of the desert, fading verdant lines into gold — more sunlight — and with him, Spock thinks he will never truly die.

“ That answer was simpler than presumed, ” he says softly, turning his eyes on Jim, swelling at the brightest point of their katras, one and together; t’hy’la, “ There was never anywhere else. ”

@traiilblazer

[traiilblazer]

"Spock." Kirk's face sweetens, his eyes twinkling playfully with oh honey. He reaches out for one of Spock's shoulders and gives it a squeeze. It's dense and cooler and smaller than he expects. The smuggler peels him gently away from the holomap, and they head toward the cockpit. "I'm one of the most notorious spice-running, fugitive-harboring scoundrels in the Galaxy. A few more of me and we'd have the Empire on its knees..." One of his eyes squints. He pauses. Shrugs a shoulder. "The me in back doesn't count. Anyway. What I'm trying to say is: there aren't too many places safe from the Captain of the Enterprise. Bit of a jack of all trades. Some have said genius, but you didn't hear it from me, I'm way too humble for that kind of talk." Once they get to the cockpit, Kirk deposits himself in his favorite seat, gestures to the co-pilots, and punches in the new coordinates.

Spock feels Jim’s eyes on him more than anything else, more than anything should call to his attention at this very moment that is not their evolving plan.

Wordlessly, he looks, the earth catching the sky, and hovers over the single term that breathes out of Jim’s mouth with all the confidence that just then — so very briefly — they had forgotten all else but them.

                                              The terse contact Spock had with Jim’s duplicate has lit something unnamable inside him, raging Spock’s curiosity into an intensity just short of intolerable. He would have deciphered that nameless, unknown thing as desultory if not for the fact that it stays, unwilling to be unhinged from where it clings to the back of his skull.

He had to know despite that invasion of touch.

Conceding, he shifts to focus on the comment Jim makes, “ Your counterpart cannot be trusted. ”

                                              Spock frowns lightly at the holo map. He does not approve of leaving Cal alone with the other Kirk on principle, but Jim’s plan is otherwise logical. “ However, I am inclined to concur. Should no other information be uncovered, I will support your suggestion. Do you have expertise in dismantling similar systems? ”

[traiilblazer]

"That's good to hear, Spock, 'cause you're up next. What're we doing for your birthday, birthday boy?" Shoulder to shoulder, Kirk leans, and they brush.

" Sacrifice was a necessary component in that instance. I trust our excursion was satisfactory nonetheless. It was not — unpleasant — overall. "

[traiilblazer]

"You're cute. Thanks Spock. I know you don't drink SpaceMcDonalds Sweet Tea for just anybody. I'm a lucky guy."

" Happy Birthday, Jim. "

@traiilblazer

[traiilblazer]

I haven’t seen this linked on here so: this is an awesome resource for how you can help the people in Palestine. It has donation links, helps you figure out how to contact your representatives, and a regularly updated list of planned protests. It is USAmerican centric but the list of protests is international.

[traiilblazer]

headcanon. t'hy'la.

There is one connection, revered by all Vulcans, a mental link that surpasses all others. It is more, and everything, greater and constant through time and space, so rare that very few Vulcans believe it to even exist. The closest equivalent in Terran Standard is that of a soulmate. Friend, brother, lover: the name encompasses all of definitions and is indistinguishable from one another. T'hy'la. There is only one person that Spock shares such a connection with, even though it took him too long to discover it for himself. It was born from a single instance, two warriors convening upon a battlefield; a moment of violence and feeling, conjured between them like ancient times, his hand around James Kirk's throat on the bridge of the Enterprise, and Spock was blind to it until he no longer possessed it. Spock's mind was a broken landscape of red cracks and too wide fissures from the sudden severance of the k’war’ma’khon, nestling something bright and precious that he never knew was there until it wasn't. Logic vanishes with goodbyes. The bond snapped the moment of Kirk's death. He lost control, rage filling the space that once held a part of his katra, and all Spock could consider was revenge upon the black blight left upon his mind, ❛ Kill him, Spock told himself. Kill him now, here. So he will never have the opportunity to harm anyone ever again. Kill him because of all he has murdered. Kill him because of…Jim. ❜ Whether or not Spock shares this information and how it is handled, is entirely dependent on the development of his relationship with Jim Kirk, and is reflected in severely detailed, long-term plots.

Please note* this HC applies to @invictasol and @traiilblazer respectively, and is exclusive to them only. This tidbit will not apply to any other version of this muse or any other muse really given context in the footnotes of the TMP novel.

[traiilblazer]

If this was anybody else, any other species, Jim wouldn't think twice about an accidental shoulder brush, not when they're both crammed around a holomap, looking at the same quadrant. Spock's shoulder brush, though, that earns the Vulcan a double take. In the time he's known him, Jim has never known Spock to do anything accidentally. His quick brain shorts out for a precious second with about fifty questions and none of them are related to the mission.

"Entry." He blinks hard. Another lands his gaze back on the map. "I was hoping Ginger Jedi back there could squeeze out a way in from my evil twin, but if that backfires, I say we split the party." Two fingers rotate the map; zoom. He jabs his finger at a smaller hanger cut into the crevice of the cliffside. "You and me scale up, hang out in a crevice for a ship to open the bomb bay doors, and slip inside. We can slice into the network and disengage security on the maintenance shafts on the rooftop for the others."

Spock is scanning the outer cropping of the gray box, trailing outward, backward, all the while taking Jim’s additional coloring into consideration.

                                                  It is true the road will be difficult. But running internal calculations, that difficulty will be much less so than bombarding the entrance directly. They have greater opportunity for discretion at that length. He lowers his arm.

Their shoulders brush.

“ Agreed. Do you have a preference for a point of entry? ”

[traiilblazer]

(I just wanna say I think you’re wonderful and don’t ever change)

omfg thank you so much you were so fun to interact with the other day, i’m glad you enjoyed my absurdity 😭

[traiilblazer]

"That could work," Kirk replies. His eyes bounce from the circle to the finger that made it; next, to the thin band of pale wrist visible before Spock's sleeve. Next, to Spock's face. All of this as quick as a breeze. He does not move back, instead, continuing their conversation at close proximity, and letting his voice lower proportionally. "We'll have to fly low. Below the planetary sensors. Won't be easy with the terrain but I'll manage." He lets his cigarette burn between two fingers. He looks back down at the holomap, tearing his stare away from the rings of blue reflected in Spock's eyes. "The trek on foot will be the real fun. The forest will be crawling with probe droids, motion detectors, patrols, considering the shit they've got cooking inside."

Jim comes to his side, picturesque of something cavalier yet commanding Spock’s attention from the blue glow of the map.                                     He blinks once through the lazy curl of smoke that follows Jim, and strangely, it seems to ignite a sensation within him that Spock was not aware ever existed. It is a slow churning tangle of thread, thin bright lights and unfixed, sapphire shapes nesting just beyond the shield of the Force. The knowledge of Jim’s sensitivity to that bind of all living things is not unknown to him; his counterpart possesses the same thing. But this — it is nebulous when he glimpses it in their proximity — curiously familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Perhaps, it is an after effect of Spock’s conversation with Jim’s copy, a hiccup or lapse in control. Shaking it from his mind, he resolves to inquire about it with Cal, later, then breathes, feels it cinch around him until he can exhale.                                     “ I had conjectured similarly, ” he says, returning his stare to the landscape as the walls flex with his quiet exhalation, supple and smooth. With a finger, Spock circles the location Jim had referenced, and looks for a path with which they could land Jim’s ship. He drags a line five clicks to the right. If this brings him closer to Jim, that is incidental. “ We could arrive, here? There is a clearing. However, it is not so open that it should expose our presence. ”

[traiilblazer]

....................... (just farts)

CALM YOURSELF CAPTAIN

[traiilblazer]

WHY ARE YOU ESCALATING

!

[traiilblazer]

makes fart sounds

why not?

[traiilblazer]

why?

i am me, jim.

[traiilblazer]

what?

i am me. and you are @traiilblazer.

[traiilblazer]

The images appear but they're not what catches Kirk's eye first. The sharp contours of Spock's face are cast in relief by the blue glow of the holomap. His lips are parted that way that says I'm thinking, his long, angular body leaned. He looks... He looks like he's meant to be here. Doing this. The hangar that appears can't even distract him fully from this strange sense of deja vu. Curiosity, though, does provide more than enough reason (or excuse) to get to his feet and move him closer. Kirk stands with his hand on his hip and another feeding the cigarette periodically to his lips, his thick brows furrowed. "That looks new," he comments through a veil of smoke. "I don't see a dock. Wait." He swipes the picture larger and narrows in on a flat plane on the other side of the mountain. He gestures with his cigarette. "Here. They're bringin' them in, those are blast doors. Odds are good most of the facility is underground."

Jim’s response is not altogether surprising. From his place opposite on the bridge, Spock can visualize that same arrogance just as well as he can see it. Jim spreads out, almost lazy and fluid with that proclaimed confidence, unbothered by the looming shadow that has already swallowed half the galaxy by now. Spock has never been so undisciplined; his hands and eyes and ears are with him, always, tucked behind him or watching, silent if at all possible because he has no intention to speak before any moment necessary to think first. But he has never lacked confidence despite the quiet thrum of reservation and thoughtfulness that encompass him. Spock is doing so, now — lips parted and pushed forward — looking over the changing holo map as it pixelates an entirely foreign world with commanding interest. He stands and brings himself closer to a darkened structure protruding out of the mountain terrain. He squints slightly, head tilting; he can do nothing to hide the extent of his dissection. “ There appears to be, ” Spock reaches out and enlarges the structure. It reveals to them the possibility of an underground network, “ A hangar bay. There are smaller buildings on the surface, here. ” The terrain is filled with trees. But Spock points out the short rooftops lying flat inside them.

[traiilblazer]

"Oh, yeah," Kirk replies, blowing out a lungful of smoke through the ring of his lips. He sits forward, curiosity drawing him into the holomap as this new set of coordinates materializes into a picture of their next destination. "Always." Gingersnap will want a confab before they head off. Ask Kirk though (either Kirk, really) and they might as well go now. A fragile galaxy threatened by petri dish Force clones of an unknown allegiance? Like flies on honey. Part of why the Jedi are all dead. They just couldn't help themselves, keep their heads in the sand. They just have to help. Well, the most helpful thing they could have done was live to fight another day. Now there's not enough left for it to matter. Honestly, the way Kestis is always whippin' it out, guy should be long dead. Kirk's staring thoughtfully through the holomap, cigarette touching his lips. He blinks, throws an arm over the bench behind him, and a leg up, too, and then he takes another drag, nodding at the screen. "What're we lookin' at?"

All at once, Spock finds himself ruminating on the details of this arrangement. He was not overtly involved in its fragile beginnings, leaving his trust to Master Kestis when working to acquire a method of travel across a quadrant no longer built for them.                                     Judging by these statements, he could presume nothing akin to nobility on Jim's part, motivated by credits and material things; Jim said so himself. Taking up residence on one side of the bridge, Spock does not particularly concur with the implication that Jim does not possess any measure of sentiment, or care, in their regard. He hears arrogance, certainly. An inflated sense of importance. If they — Cal and BD and Spock — truly required this man specifically, he cannot say. The circumstances of Jim’s doppelgänger is convenient at best. He chooses to read into these responses otherwise, eyeing Jim blandly through the smuggler’s flippant and apparent drug use. It is, of course, all of these reasons the Captain mentions, as well something hidden, not quite unearthed but suspect when Jim told Spock: you need me, “ Indeed. ” Turning to the helm, his nose wrinkles, but Spock ignores the smoke to punch in the coordinates given to him by Kirk, “ Are you always this confident? ”

[traiilblazer]

He scoffs. He needs a drink and a smoke. Nah, he needs something harder. "You fishin' for a heart-to-heart, Spock?" Kirk drawls with crooked lips and, in passing, punches a switch on the circular, stand-alone holotable behind the cockpit. The domed center flickers blue and an image of the last coordinates they searched waves and coalesces into Dressel, just outside of Bothan Space. "How could I ever forgive myself if you and Gingersnap wound up at the business end of Darth-me's fiendish designs, something like that?" He unloads himself onto the cushioned bench across from it, splayed-legged. Spock can do the scrolling and button mashing. "You do need me. First off, he's me. No further explanation required. Secondly, I don't see any other pilots linin' up to freight fugitives from one end of the galaxy to the other. Third..." Kirk digs in his pocket and pulls out a metal cigarette holder. None of those dorky digital devices here. He withdraws rolled, genuine leaf from a slot in the top corner, pops it in between his lips, and exchanges the holder for his lighter. "You and your Master have already played your hand. He's countin' on you noble and beneficent Jedi to do the right thing." He lights up, flips the metal lighter shut, takes a drag, and then holds out both of his arms with a cigarette between his fingers. "You're lookin' at your only wild card."

                             The enemy grows stronger even in pieces. It reminds him of mythical context from the stories fed to him as a child. His mother would inflect on creatures with many heads and many lives; remove the neck of one and the inevitable result is to sprout three more. For this, Spock is not ignorant of the burden that they have placed upon themselves. The Jedi are small, weakened and scattered about the galaxy like wisps and rumor and ghosts of an older, more fanatical time. And he has only just begun his training, building strength in the shadows.                                                           “ I have held no illusions that our mission will not be difficult, ” Spock says. He follows after Jim, leaving the fresher and close at Jim’s heels. It is unfortunate to learn the Captain is vehemently disagreeable, allowing that notion to tick at his lips. Entering the bridge, a question returns to him and he wonders after it, again again again, unable to prevent himself from wondering it out loud. Albeit, veiled, masking Spock’s curious desire to see Jim remain with them. “ If you do not wish to come, it is by no means incumbent upon you to do so. ”