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wren-of-the-woods · 4 months

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On Doomsdays and Devotion

After the Enterprise’s most recent brush with death, Jim notices that Spock is sticking closer to him than usual. The conversation that ensues is unexpectedly impactful. This is 2.5k of pre-Spirk feels, rated G. On AO3 here!

Jim was fairly certain that Spock had been following him.

It did not happen all the time. It did not disrupt either of their duties. In fact, it had taken him a few days to convince himself that he was not imagining it, especially since he was still distracted by dealing with the fallout of their most recent incident with a planet-killing weapon. Still, once he started paying attention, the fact remained: when Spock would normally have been off on his own doing science experiments or reports or whatever else Spock did when he was away from Jim, he was, instead, quietly by Jim’s side.

Spock sat next to Jim at meals. He accompanied him in the gym. He sat in the same room as Jim when they were doing reports. Even when they were not together, Spock often found reasons to pass Jim in the corridor, speak to him briefly, or grab something from whatever room Jim was in on his way from task to task.

Jim did not mind this. In fact, he probably should have been slightly worried about just how little Spock’s frequent presence bothered him, but he could not quite bring himself to analyze that part of his feelings too deeply. Suffice to say that he was not irritated by the shift in his first officer’s behavior. He was, however, slightly concerned.

At one point, he attempted to bring it up with the Vulcan in question.

“Mister Spock,” he said, smiling, “Is there something you would like to discuss with me?”

Spock blinked at him. If it were anyone else, Jim would almost have said he looks sheepish.

“No, captain.”

Jim bit back a sigh. He did not expect Spock to simply tell him whatever was going on, not after so many days of silence, but it still would have been nice.

“Very well,” said Jim, and the conversation was forgotten. Jim almost began to ignore the unusual occurrence entirely.

Then, one night, well over a standard week after the incident with their most recent planet-killer, Jim suddenly found that he could no longer hold himself together.

He was off duty, which was fortunate, but that was just about the only thing that felt fortunate about the situation. The events of their most recent adventure — the death of his friend, the possibility and reality of such destruction, how close he had come to his own death — had finally caught up to him, and all he could do was hightail it to his quarters and hope he made it before his crew has to witness their captain having a minor meltdown. He ended up hiding in his room for a good portion of the evening, a few hours which he would rather not talk about, before eventually deciding he had pulled himself together enough to justify going out in search of some food.

After everything, it really should not have been a surprise that Spock was there when he emerged.

His first officer was attempting to look nonchalant, but given that there was very little reason for his presence in this corridor at this time and it was highly unlikely that he simply happened to be here at the moment Jim left his room, Jim thought he was doing a rather poor job of it. He looked distinctly unsurprised by Jim’s presence.

“Mister Spock,” he said, trying to act casual and not as though he had spent the last few hours working through a series of extremely strong emotions. “Is something wrong?”

Spock looked at Jim consideringly for a moment. Jim resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze.

“The ship is in standard working order, captain,” Spock said.

“That isn’t a no.”

“Correct. You are experiencing emotional distress.”

Jim winced a little. “That obvious, huh?”

“To an average member of the crew, likely not. I, however, can make out eleven separate physiological and psychological signs that—”

Jim raised a hand to cut him off. “Very well, Mister Spock, I understand. You’re right.” He quirked a small smile. “Even the great Captain Kirk can’t see his friend die without experiencing any unpleasantness, I’m afraid.”

“You also came close to death, captain.”

Jim blinked. “Yes, that too, I suppose.”

Spock’s lips thinned almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. For a moment, they stood there in rather awkward silence.

“Well,” said Jim eventually, “I was going to get some food. Would you like to accompany me?”

“I would find that acceptable, captain.”

Spock fell easily into step beside him as they made their way towards the mess hall. They were silent as Jim got some food and sat down with his plate. Spock sat across from him, though he had not taken any food from the replicators. The room was empty due to the late hour and the lights were dimmed. In the silence, Spock’s presence seemed to have more significance than really made sense.

Jim ate in silence for several long moments. Spock considered him from across the table. Eventually, to Jim’s surprise, it was Spock who broke the silence.

“Would you like to speak about the subject of your distress?” asked Spock.

Jim paused. His instinct was to refuse, to focus on the mission instead of his distraction and only talk about it later, perhaps in his logs or on shore leave with Bones and copious amounts of alcohol. He usually did his best to keep Spock from having to deal with any more of his human emotions than is necessary. But Spock was asking, now, and though the Vulcan would deny it if he ever dared to make the claim, Jim could tell that he was worried. He could not bring himself to refuse his friend’s offer.

“It… troubles me, when I can’t save someone.”

Spock’s brows furrowed. “You were not on the ship at the time of Decker’s departure. It was not your responsibility to save him, nor was it possible for you to do so.”

Jim managed a small, sad smile. “I know. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to remember.”

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, and they returned to the silence in which the meal had begun. Jim finished his food, pushed his plate aside, and looked at Spock consideringly. Spock returned his gaze, even and unflinching.

“There’s something on your mind, Mr Spock. Care to share?”

Spock considered him for a moment. When he spoke, it was with deliberation.

“It concerns me, captain, that you give such little importance to your own near demise.”

Jim blinked.

“I had no desire to die,” he said.

“And yet you came perilously close to doing so.”

“It was the best way to save the ship.”

“Perhaps, sir, but you must take into account the way your death would have affected the ship and its crew. Productivity would have decreased at a significant rate and the emotional fallout would have affected many of the crew for at least several years.”

Jim frowned. “A grieving crew is better than a dead crew. I wouldn’t be much of a captain if I couldn’t value my ship above myself.”

“You may be correct, captain. However, I would still strongly advise you to utilize more caution in the future.”

Jim’s brows furrowed. “Where is this coming from, Spock? This isn’t the first time I’ve almost died.”

Spock hesitated. Jim noticed, for the first time, a shadow of vulnerability hidden bleeding through the edges of Spock’s mask of Vulcan control. He felt his expression soften.

“Spock,” he said gently, “Why have you been following me?”

Spock looked down at his hands where they were calmly clasped together, resting on the table. “It is illogical, captain.”

“You? Illogical? Somehow I doubt that.”

“Even the best of us have our flaws.”

Despite the strange tension in the air between them, Jim could not help but chuckle at that.

“Very true.” Then, when a moment of silence went by without Spock responding, he prompted, “Well?”

Still looking at his hands, Spock paused for a moment before speaking. “I admit that I would have found it most disagreeable if you had lost your life in that mission.”

“I wouldn’t have exactly been pleased with it either.”

Spock continued as though Jim had not spoken. “Were you to perish, the ship would feel your absence most keenly.”

Jim considered him for a long moment before, throwing caution to the winds, he spoke. “And you? Would you feel it?”

For the first time in several moments, Spock finally looked up and met Jim’s eyes. “I admit that I would, captain.”

Jim swallowed. If Spock were human, Jim would have reached across the table to take his hand, but as it was, he contented himself with holding his earnest gaze.

“I’m sorry I concerned you.”

“Thank you,” said Spock. “Though I admit that I appreciate it more if you refrained from doing so again in the future.”

“You know I can’t promise that, Spock.”

Spock’s brow furrowed slightly. “I am aware, captain. However, that does not mean I am pleased by this fact.”

Jim smiled a little, gentle and a bit sad. “I thought Vulcans were not capable of displeasure.”

Spock looked Jim in the eye, tilting his head slightly. “When it comes to you, I find a great many capable of a great many things.”

Jim opened his mouth. He closed it again.

“I see,” he said, rather lamely.

Spock frowned. “Captain, I do not think you realize the importance of this matter.”

“It’s my life. I’d say I have a pretty good sense of how important it is.”

“And yet you are acting as though you do not realize how significant it is to those around you.”

“A captain’s life is lived in service of his ship and his crew”

“The importance of your existence is not found solely in your captaincy, Jim.”

Jim gave Spock a long, considering look. “Are you trying to tell me something, Spock?”

“It is also found, among other things, in your status as a friend.”

Jim was silent, digesting this. Spock looked at him for a long moment, then, unprompted but with uncharacteristically visible hesitance, spoke again.

“I have been maintaining a proximity to you that is closer than average for the last eight point three days because, unreasonable and improper as it may be, I have found your presence an illogically reassuring reminder that you did not, in fact, perish during our last mission.”

“Oh,” said Jim softly.

This time, he was unable to keep himself from reaching out to place a hand on Spock’s sleeve, just above the wrist. Spock looked down at the place where their skin didn’t quite touch, seeming to consider it, but did not protest the contact. Jim took this as permission to leave his hand where it is.

“I’m sorry to have caused you pain,” he said. It was a testament to the weight of the conversation that Spock only frowned slightly at this, not bothering to protest the implications of emotion in Jim’s statement. “I’m safe now. I promise I had no intention of letting the universe get rid of me this easily.”

Jim paused for a moment, thinking, then forged ahead with all the boldness of the man who had recently faced death without flinching.

“You know I had to do it, though,” he said.

Spock’s frown deepened slightly. “The machine’s destruction was logically necessary for the sake of the galaxy. However, the specific method chosen was perhaps not—”

Jim held up a hand to stop him. “I’m aware of your thoughts on my methods. I’m talking about my motivation.”

Spock’s frown grew less displeased and more considering. “In that case, please elaborate.”

Jim couldn’t help a small, fond smile at Spock’s words. “I knew it had to be destroyed for the sake of the galaxy, but that wasn’t really what I was thinking about when I did it.” His smile faded into seriousness as he spoke. He maintained eye contact with Spock. “I was thinking about my crew. About how my friends— my family would be destroyed if I did not act.” He gently squeezed Spock’s forearm where his hand still rested on his sleeve. “I was thinking about you.”

Spock was silent. Jim studied his face, trying to parse the emotions he could almost feel hiding behind Spock’s Vulcan control. There was surprise, he thought, and perhaps confusion, but also something deeper, perhaps more vulnerable or more tender. He could not make it out.

Jim found that he could not let this conversation stagnate in silence, not without knowing for certain that Spock understood him.

“So,” he said, “I hope you realize that this feeling goes both ways.”

Spock’s brows furrowed just slightly. “Clarify.”

“I… value your presence. Very highly. I, um,” Jim paused, took a deep breath, then forged on quickly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He swallowed. “Please don’t make me find out.”

Spock paused. He considered Jim for a long moment. For some reason, Jim grew increasingly nervous under his scrutiny.

“I am gratified to know that you understand the sentiment,” Spock said eventually. “I will endeavor to act in the interest of self-preservation.”

Jim relaxed a little, letting a smile slip onto his face. “That’s all I can ask for. Thank you.”

“And you will endeavor to do the same?”

Jim lifted his hand from Spock’s arm and held it out to shake. “It’s a deal.”

Too late, he remembered the vast differences between the cultural norms of humans and Vulcans when it came to touch and fingers in particular. He made to withdraw his hand, slightly sheepish.

Before he could move and without breaking eye contact, Spock reached forward and took his hand.

Jim felt a spark of warmth, almost a tingling sensation, travel up his arm and down his spine at the touch. Spock’s hand was dry and very warm. His gaze was serious, earnest in a way Jim rarely saw from him. Jim found that he could not look away.

“A deal,” Spock repeated, his voice soft and low. Jim found himself fighting back a shiver.

Before Jim could pull himself together and return to his senses long enough to speak, Spock released his hand and stood. Jim looked up at him, blinking dumbly, as Spock nodded at him.

“This conversation has been most profitable, captain. Thank you for your time.”

“It— uh, it was my pleasure.” Jim winced internally, abruptly glad the room was empty but for the two of them. He doubted his suave reputation would survive intact otherwise.

Jim could have sworn he saw Spock smirk at him as he turned to go. He found himself smiling softly in return as he watched Spock leave.

When Jim returned to his quarters, he found that he felt much better than he had when he left them last. The emotional toll of the mission was not completely lifted, of course, but the reminder that he had his first officer at his side made it feel easier to bear. The thought of Spock’s concern for his well-being made him made him feel oddly warm.

And, if it was the memory of Spock’s hand on his — of the warmth of his touch, the thinly veiled feeling in his eyes, the emotions that sparked in Jim’s own chest at the contact, and the promise of, maybe, someday, something more — that eventually lulled him to sleep with a smile on his face, that was no one’s business but his own.

#star trek tos #spirk #kirk x spock #james t kirk #spock #star trek #wren writes #*waves shyly* hello star trek fandom!#this took FOREVER because writing has been really slow lately but i finally came up with a title i'm happy with so here you go :D #there should be more fic for both witcher and star trek on its way soon! <3 #also first fic of 2024 let's go!!!!#man it's been ages since i posted a new fic that wasn't a collaboration

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pinespittinink · 8 days

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🌿 pinespittinink reintro 🌿

hello and welcome to my blog 💌 i'm easing myself back into writeblr and hope to meet some new people and continue to vibe as i always have on here. this is not my main blog, so while i may follow you, it won't be from this account. i don't follow or engage with minors; all my work is adult and queernorm unless otherwise indicated.

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a little bit about me: catherine ~ she/her ~ capricorn ~ pan & poly ~ 28 ~ 18+ only ➡ about page ⬅

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i've been around here sporadically since 2018 and always tend to come home; i like prompts and ask games and tags and fun things. i write love stories in sci-fi and fantasy settings, and i'm working towards traditional publishing always. currently i'm querying my adult fantasy standalone, The Great Glavenisean Theater (The Night Circus x House of Leaves). i enjoy writing nsfw content, lush scene setting, and detailed emotional headspaces.

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🖋 my wips 🖋

the great glavenisean theater 🎭 {wip intro} {general tag} spec fic/fantasy standalone. a tailor goes to the big city and gets swept up by a phantasmagorical theater with an interdimensional portal in the stage, gets a crush on a cute guy working the rigging, and maybe starts to lose his mind as shit gets Weird™️

in the deep of the trees 🍃 {wip intro} {general tag} high fantasy, romantic subplot, standalone. (bi4bi otp). a social-climber uses subterfuge, blackmail, and murder to achieve his ambitions, and the court eccentric that he's in love with gets weirder and weirder when a new discovery is brought back by an exploration team.

star white 🌟 {wip intro} {general tag} romantic space fantasy, standalone. (gay otp) one man searches for the love of his life after he's been abducted by sentient dark matter, and spends millions of years travelling through space with a semi-organic AI ship.

solene's verse 🌊 epic fantasy, duology. (t4t otp) a young self-taught wizard makes a ton of bad decisions, as a group of ragtag youths from the cesspit of the world try to rescue the elder brother of one of their own from a tower of cultists.

the revenant (working title) dark fantasy, duology(???? who knows). a one-woman-war-machine who cannot die fights alongside her childhood best friend and lover and their loyal band of vagabonds to bring down the corrupt royalty desecrating their kingdom

the wasteland (working title) weird spec fic/dark fantasy, novella. a lousy hot-tempered fire elemental and a shitty light necromancer embark on the world's worst walking roadtrip to a castle on the wasteland falling away at their feet.

[odyssey solomon's wip - mad max fury road x the road x the locked tomb, post-apocalyptic fantasy. father and son against the world plus a weird shapeshifting bitch]

[gentle poly cathedral wip - romantic fantasy, novella. gargoyles and psalms and stained glass, my beloveds]

[soft poly space wip - romantic sci-fi, duology. androids and black holes and librarians, oh my!]

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🎐tag guide🎐

my writing 🌸 my edits 🌸 my poetry 🌸 sap spill 🌸 {original text posts, not always writing related} uwu romance 🌸 {umbrella tag for everything love and romance related} trope talk🌸 {umbrella tag. overlaps often with uwu romance} character work🌸 {what it says on the tin} compilations🌸 {tumblr web weaving posts} i live here🌸 {stuff i jive with on a molecular level}

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[ Romantic and indulgent prose full of filigree, worlds full of whimsy, mystery and a hint of danger, a core of tenderness rooted at the heart of every story. Your writing is always penned in the manner of a love letter not just to the craft or even as an ode to romance but to the subject of love in itself. ] – @aninkwellofnectar 🌹

“for whom / and to whom all this love, / all this light falling.”

–@ragewrites, Film Still, for pinespittinink.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #writeblr reintro #this is doubling as my new pinned post #*waves shyly*#sap spill

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schalotte · 3 days

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watching the new bridgertonnnnnn i will absolutely eat up the nicola coughlan romance even if i do not care for the fragrant heterosexuality of it all

#remember in the first season within the first 5 minutes of the show she waves and giggles shyly at eloise. in my mind they r lesbian married

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loverofallthingsround · 5 months

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genuinely ? fat heals. like i get sad and then come across a belly on tumblr dot com and now i’m elated, rejuvenated even

shoutout to all the women possessing bellies on this site i would personally like to say thank you for your service

#shyly waves #queer feedism #female feedee #weight gain #chubby #feedee girl #sapphic feedism #fat #cute fatty #belly

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boyobjectifier · 3 months

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daydreaming abt having my face gripped and being force-fed pills of their choice, spitting it out because i don’t trust them, being slapped so hard my ears ring, promptly having my mouth pried open and being forced to swallow whatever they’re shoving into my mouth

and then being told “this could’ve been easy. you could’ve had it so easy here, but you chose to put up a fight. you better hope that you chose well.”

#i do Not care about logging in and out to go post this on my other blog bc i’m having a nice time on this blog rn #so here have a thought i can’t stop obsessing over. :3 #um. shyly waving at boyfriend bc i know they’ll see these at some point #*this at some point #i also can’t be bothered to tag this. so i am releasing this post into the wild #h.txt

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auroradicit · 16 days

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@arc-77 said: "Careful, Icarus." @ kes

Kes' scowl deepens.

"I'll be sure to avoid direct sunlight. Sir."

They've gotten too used to the ease of it. Their wings flexing and stirring. Emoting with six limbs. But they're making a kriffing point, even if it's just to themself. So they scowl, and they stand straight, the weight of steel settled at their spine and carefully controlled.

"Can't promise anything about cliffs."

#At Least It's More Original Than Bird Jokes #-waves shyly-#I am Obsessed with this and yet have no idea what I'm doing so lmk if you'd like it expanded or rewritten #c: stepped off the golden (kestrel)#the period vs comma doing a lot of heavy lifting in this house #if we're in wayseeker vs I figure she's getting away with being a bit less....yknow. but also he does still outrank her ass so.#-jazz hands- trying to keep it balanced

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grennefoam · 10 months

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my go-to flavor of benthan is to portray Ethan as extremely tired and reticent; he's a vintage car engine that was forced to keep running because a/people expect him to keep running and working and being responsible and b/he expects himself to be responsible for pretty much everything he can care for. he's both macho and a princess. he's a self-sufficient tool of the narrative. he's larger than life. he's constantly beaten up. he's cursed with competency. he has one (1) rebellious phase and it fucked him up so bad it made him the way he is today. he acts like he's not 5'7. meanwhile Benji is the one bearing the amount of emotional clarity enough to power a team of 5 equally, disastrously, emotionally-constipated people. people thought he was polite and somewhat sane but in fact the most cracked of the two. he's the largest Ethan's simp. he's constantly nervous. he's a great liar. he is somehow more of a mystery than Ethan. he's a key and a magnet to pretty much every single emotionally-constipated person he's unlucky enough to come across. he has either a 0 Luck or a 10 Luck moment and there's no in-between

#guess who i favor more in this bowl of soup #benthan #mission: impossible #to crarify! this is MY go-to flavor it doesn't mean other variations of benthan dynamic are inferior or not legit #I am not a sheriff I am just a beggar #a similar vein of thought is I'm familiar with my country's cuisine doesn't mean I am unwilling to consume other cuisines #yeah #anw im glad for the resurgence of this ship with the new movie (waves shyly from the sewer)

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ongsasuns · 10 months

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BEFORE/AFTER COLORING CHALLENGE

tagged by @fangrui (hanyi darling you probs don't even remember it's been like a month but i really wanted to do this so aghsdfj here we are finally thanks so much for the tag!!! <3)

i don't really gif much these days so most of these are old but i do love them all <3 that pat gif is my fav and i've never even posted it </3. i don't really have a process/style? i usually just wing it till i think it looks okay hasdkjfh the only constant is my sharpening! (sort of)

going to tag some new darlings <3 (but no presssure ofc!!): @pondsphuwin @wanderlust-in-my-soul @casualavocados @zhoufeis @sollucets

#tag games.#hi new friends!!!! *shyly waves* hope you all dont mind the tag <3 #the need to gif bad buddy and msp is so real rn ahsukdfj

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wren-of-the-woods · 7 months

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I used @finishwhatyoustarted-event as motivation to finish up an old ficlet! Silmarillion fandom, G, 0.7k, also on AO3.

Fëanáro loved the language.

The elves made it; it was theirs. Theirs, and theirs alone. No Vala was responsible for it. Nobody else could possibly claim credit for it save Eru himself. They always have had it and they always would have it. They were the Quendi, the ones who speak.

Fëanáro loved the forge, loved to create things of beauty where there were none and to make things of wonder and delight. He loved to wander the land, to seek out new and undiscovered things. For many years, he could delight in the pleasures of the world without hesitation. He eagerly took the knowledge offered by the Valar and used it to achieve things unheard of.

But the Valar were meddlers. They were fools. They were thieves. They would take what they wanted from the elves and claim that it was their right. They would say it had been they who taught the arts to the elves. That the elves could have made nothing without their aid. That this gave them a right to whatever was created by the craftspeople who had surpassed the Valar’s skill many years ago. And the elves, foolish as they were, believed them.

The Valar could have no such claim on the language. They never have, and they never will. Words belonged to the Quendi, and they always would. That made them precious. As precious as the brightest stars.

But they were impermanent. Transient. They did not have the great stature and majesty of the stone towers in Valimar, nor the solidity of the metals of the forge. They are the wind blowing through towers and cities of the mind; sometimes a gentle breeze, sometimes a great and moving tempest, but always temporary. Always changing. Always passing away. Even the greatest song, the most moving speech, would be lost and forgotten in time.

Numbers could be recorded with repeated markings on stone or cloth or rope or paper. It was much harder to record words and sounds. There were the picture-like symbols that the Vanyar would sometimes use to record history, of course, but they were cumbersome and imprecise and only conveyed simplified meanings at best; far too clumsy to be much use to someone like Fëanáro. The vast majority of the knowledge and history of the Quendi was passed through verbal communication only.

Fëanáro would not tolerate this.

Works of language deserved every bit of the credit given to great feats of engineering or works of art. They deserved to be passed down through the generations without change, shown to anyone who would see them. The Valar should be made to see that they do not own the Quendi. The language would be as immovable as the stars, fixed and unchanging in its beauty. Its current course of incessant change, of unreasonable divergence from what is right and good, would be stopped. It was perfect as it was. Any change could only result in the downfall of the one thing the Quendi could indisputably call their own.

It must be set down and recorded. It must be made to stay put. It must be perfected, polished, and purged like the finest jewel.

Ñolofinwë had said this was impossible. He had said that words were like the wind, and that nobody could possibly catch the wind in a bottle and keep it on a shelf. Arafinwë had butted in and added that even if one could, it would no longer be the wind — without motion, wind is nothing more than air.

Fëanáro ignored them. He had learnt, over the years, that the only voice worth listening to in these things was Nerdanel’s. If anyone else said that something could not be done, Fëanáro would simply complete his project with greater eagerness and be ready to flaunt his success in their face. But if Nerdanel says something cannot be done, then it truly is impossible.

This time, Nerdanel said it is a wonderful idea. She even offered several suggestions on where to start — perhaps he could use a simplified form of the explanatory diagrams he would sometimes create when making blueprints, or of the historical tapestries woven by the Vanyar. Fëanáro had taken her thoughts eagerly. She was usually right about this sort of thing.

The paper was spread out in front of him, ready for his ideas. Countless new worlds would be opened up when he succeeds. He would succeed. He always did. If one had enough determination, creativity, and skill, anything is possible, and he certainly had a surplus of all three. All he needed was time.

He touched his quill to the paper, and began.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #fëanor #feanor #wren writes #tengwar #it's been ages since i posted something for the silm fandom so *waves shyly* hi!#here's a tiny character study about feanor and his Extremely Strong Opinions #i started this like 3 years ago and then forgot about it lol #so here you go :D #finish what you started 2023 #i finished what i started

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