celestialfables

　 ˚₊‧ ︴Athena ⭒ 28 ⭒ she / her ⭒ bisexual. ︴‧₊˚

　 sfw ♡ multi-muse blog ♡ pls read rules before following ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⟡ ⋆｡˚ㅤㅤ

　　　 　 carrd ⁺ promo ⁺ discord: celestialfables

︴ this blog is mainly roleplaying. i have muses from doctor who, star trek, marvel, dcu, horror, and more. if you're interested, please read the carrd linked above ! ︴

The soft hum of machines whirs in the background. The quiet sound of footsteps and voices can be heard from down the corridor, but soon dissipates into nothingness. In a room just a few doors down from the hallway opening, a soft amber spills out. A faint scratching can be heard. Like a pencil on paper, someone is drawing carefully yet vigorously.

A desk dominates the room, with a window to its right. A bed sits in front, topped with one long pillow and a blanket, both martian grey—standard issue on every Federation ship. A shelving unit partially divides the room beside the bed, housing a shower, toilet, and sink, just large enough for one.

One person who loved the stars. The galaxy. The unwritten stories and voyages that people have yet to find. The reason she joined Starfleet Academy.

Sitting at the desk was a woman in her early thirties. Fair skin, warm hazel eyes, and dark blonde wavy hair that was often in a messy braid or bun. A blue uniform sat upon her body, the skirt being way too short for any woman to work in, but it was what she was issued. On the left side of her uniform, on her chest, was the gold insignia of the science division. Two circles lying over one another. And a mind that raced with curiosity.

Ambrosia Jane Vale. Lieutenant Commander aboard the USS Enterprise. Senior Astrophysicist and Stellar Cartographer. A girl who dreamed of living among the stars.

During her off-duty time, Ambrosia often stayed up late charting various stars, nebulae, constellations, etc. Anything she could put in her private journal. She loved her job and dedicated her life to it, but she missed the simple days when she would lie in bed with a sketchpad and draw whatever she saw in the galaxy above her. She loved old classical music from Earth. It sometimes played softly from her quarters or hummed while she worked in the field. The haunting chords of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 drifted from her small desktop terminal. During her off-duty hours, Ambrosia lived in this private world of classical Earth music and analog sketchpads. But the peace didn't last.

A soft whistle emanates from the wall. The comm chime shattered her trance.

“Lieutenant Commander Vale. Please report to the bridge.”

Kirk’s voice was crisp, filtering through her private quarters intercom. Ambrosia let out a soft sigh, a wry smile touching her lips. He always seemed to possess an uncanny radar for calling her right in the middle of a hyperfixation. She turned off her music player, closed her worn-out sketchbook, and straightened her uniform. She stood, black knee-high boots thudding on the floor as she moved to reply.

“Be there in five, Captain.”

Ambrosia walked through the sliding doors of her quarters and down the hall. The bridge wasn’t too far from her quarters. She took the turbolift at the end of the hallway and softly hummed the classical music she was listening to moments ago. As the turbolift dinged, the doors opened to reveal the bridge. Lights twinkled on the consoles, soft lighting spilling in. The only person there was Captain James T. Kirk. He spun in his chair at the sound of the turbolift opening.

“Commander Vale, I wanted to show you something.”

He stood, the gold of his command tunic striking against the shadows of the upper deck. Ambrosia felt a sudden, familiar knot tighten in her stomach. Her mind immediately raced through the worst-case scenarios. Was she being reassigned? Has news come from Earth about her family? But she kept her composure, following him through the door to the ready room. She wasn’t one to ultimately think poor thoughts, but it happened from time to time. Kirk stood to the side, extending an arm out to proudly display the vast cosmic event happening. Ambrosia lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Her mouth was agape, and she rushed to the windows to get as close as she could.

“A Tarantula Nebula? I’ve heard of these but never had the pleasure of seeing one before.”

A wide, unwavering smile lit up her face as she tracked the violent, beautiful nurseries of newborn stars and supernovas bleeding into deep purples and fiery oranges. For a moment, she forgot where she was. She was truly in awe at how beautiful the galaxy could be. Multiple colors painted the midnight black sky like an artist with a blank canvas. Sometimes it’d be one color, a periwinkle blue or perhaps it’d be three colors intertwining with one another like right now. The deep purples, fiery oranges, and soft green swirls put her in a trance. The stars danced through the nebula. A soft breeze of air ran down her left arm, and the soft smell of cologne wafted through the air. She looked over at Kirk with that big doe-eyed expression of pure unadulterated happiness.

“Captain, I.. I don’t know how to thank you for this. I know you didn’t steer the ship into this sector just for me, but showing me this? Thank you.”

Ambrosia stands at the viewport, her fingers pressed against the cold plasteel. The ship hums beneath her boots, a low vibration that matches the steady rhythm of her own breathing. Out there, the universe does not hide its secrets.

Before her stretches the violent crucible of the nebula. The culmination of her entire career, her life’s work distilled into a single, breathtaking expanse. It is not merely a cloud of gas; it is a slow-motion cataclysm. Great, fractured ribbons of amethyst and burning copper tear across the void, fueled by the death throes of dying suns. She watches a pair of binary stars caught in a fatal, spiraling dance, stripping away each other’s layers until they collapse, a quiet violence blooming across the emptiness of space in a blinding flash of silver. It is terrifyingly beautiful, a chaotic furnace where destruction and creation are entirely indistinguishable.

And looking at it, she finally understands her love for him. It isn't a gentle thing, nor is it safe. It is this exact nebula; a brilliant, gravity-defying collision that rewrote her entire internal map, an all-consuming force that burns away her old edges to build something entirely new. The vastness of the cosmos suddenly feels intimately small compared to the sheer weight of what she carries for him in her chest.

The realization settled over her like a heavy cloak.

After the last trip where the shuttle crashed on Taurus II, Ambrosia was for certain that she’d never see the cosmos again. Spock, Scotty, and Bones were all sure they’d perish too. They landed on an unfamiliar planet with big ape-like creatures hunting them. They had already killed two of their men.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been her on this ride, she probably wouldn’t have entertained the idea that she harbored feelings for her Captain. Yeah, cliche and boring, but Kirk’s emotional walls and his larger-than-life persona drew her in. She chased after the stars and longed for the excitement of exploration, something she also found in Kirk. While Spock jettisoned their last remaining fuel reserve for a small glimpse of hope that the Enterprise would see them, Ambrosia allowed herself to feel the deep emotional turmoil inside of her. Slowly the shuttle began to fill with smoke and became increasingly hot as they were soaring through the sky, unlikely to survive. She had closed her eyes in that burning cockpit, preparing to die, only to open them in the safe, air-conditioned transporter room of the Enterprise after a last-second lock.

Now, standing next to him under the light of a dying star, that near-death realization echoed in her chest. She stared at the sharp line of his jaw. He was a man who dared to love the universe, but could he love a member of his crew?

In the midst of her daydreams and awe, Ambrosia didn’t notice that Kirk wasn’t looking at the nebula. He was looking at her. He tracked the colorful light dancing across her face. The heavy calculated mask of a Starfleet Captain slipped. He was standing close, close enough that if either of them shifted their hands, their fingers would brush.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ambrosia,” his voice dropping an octave, losing his usual command-deck projection.

Hearing her first name out of his mouth sent a quiet thrill straight down her spine. “Commander” was the required form of being addressed by her Captain, especially on the bridge.

He forced himself to look out at the swirling celestial clouds. The way they danced with one another. It almost made him want to jump at the thought of embracing her tightly in his arms, swinging her around as soft music played in the background and all that was in the universe, was them. He pushed those thoughts away before he cleared his throat, a sudden rigidity returning to his shoulders.

"When Starfleet Command orders us into deep space, they expect us to catalog anomalies. But... I thought the Senior Astrophysicist should have the first look. To ensure our data is accurate."

A flush of heat rose to her cheeks at the possibility. Ambrosia forced her gaze back to the nebula. She couldn't afford to mistake a captain's thoughtful gesture toward his senior astrophysicist for something deeper. But as the cosmic dust danced across the viewscreen, she couldn't help but hope. Was this his reason for calling her here? She nodded to his words, keeping that same wide, hopeful smile to hide her other emotions. 

However, Kirk was fighting his own mind. Going back to the Galileo shuttle craft incident. While Ambrosia had been choking on smoke in that burning shuttlecraft, preparing to die with Spock, Scotty, and Bones, Kirk had been thousands of miles above them, trapped on the bridge of the Enterprise. For hours, he had been forced to listen to the static-filled audio feeds. Forced to abandon the search for his friends and his crew by High Commissioner Ferris. He had felt the agonizing, suffocating helplessness of a captain who couldn't reach his people. He had been terrified of losing his senior officers, yes, but he was utterly panicked at the thought of a universe without Ambrosia Jane Vale.

He remembered sternly yelling at the transporter room, demanding they lock onto anything, defying physics, defying logic, just to get them back. Just bring her back. When the pads finally materialized, the shuttle crew, Kirk had nearly broken protocol right there in front of the medical team just to pull her into his arms.

Now, she was back on his ship. Safe. Within arm's reach. And completely off-limits.

"It's breathtaking, Jim,"

Ambrosia murmured softly, daring to match his lapse in protocol.

Kirk flinched slightly, the sound of his name on her lips hitting him right in the chest. He let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-laugh. He didn't pull away this time. Instead, he stood his ground, his eyes fixed on her profile, glowing with a fierce, quiet warmth that had absolutely nothing to do with the Tarantula Nebula.