ARCHIVED, MOVED TO: TRAIILBLAZER

hello friends new and old:

IF YOU’RE STILL FOLLOWING THIS BLOG, I thank you ardently for your continued interest in my writings/me as a person, no matter how few and far between my postings have become. I’m sorry for going dark for the last month or two. Things have been hitting me hard in my personal life. Overall moodiness, depression, my fiancee’s out of a job, my muse has been flighty, I feel kind of distant socially, and I’m trying to hold it all together as best as I can.

I’m trying to remind myself why it is that I started roleplaying again, which is for self expression, cultivating friendships, screaming at each other in IMs, and to spread my love of this snazzy space guy. I need all these things in my life. They make me happy. But it’s hard to write as golden-hearted Jim Kirk when my own can be more of a rusty pewter sometimes.

Anyway, this blog will be ARCHIVED, and I’ll be transitioning to a fresh one with an actual rules/tags page under the same url.

IF YOU WANT TO PLOT. If we started something that I haven’t answered for a while. If we plotted something but never got around to doing it. If you’re at all interested in writing with me, COMMENT ON OR LIKE THIS POST, and I will hit you up when my reboot is done.

Thanks old friends, for sticking by me.

IF YOU’RE STILL FOLLOWING THIS BLOG, I thank you ardently for your continued interest in my writings/me as a person, no matter how few and far between my postings have become. I’m sorry for going dark for the last month or two. Things have been hitting me hard in my personal life. Overall moodiness, depression, my fiancee’s out of a job, my muse has been flighty, I feel kind of distant socially, and I’m trying to hold it all together as best as I can.

I’m trying to remind myself why it is that I started roleplaying again, which is for self expression, cultivating friendships, screaming at each other in IMs, and to spread my love of this snazzy space guy. I need all these things in my life. They make me happy. But it’s hard to write as golden-hearted Jim Kirk when my own can be more of a rusty pewter sometimes.

Anyway, this blog will be ARCHIVED, and I’ll be transitioning to a fresh one with an actual rules/tags page under the same url.

IF YOU WANT TO PLOT. If we started something that I haven’t answered for a while. If we plotted something but never got around to doing it. If you’re at all interested in writing with me, COMMENT ON OR LIKE THIS POST, and I will hit you up when my reboot is done.

Thanks old friends, for sticking by me.

< @fasciinating​ ; happy birthday spock >

@spaceforkirk BUT WAS IT WORTH THE WAIT

he’d taken jim’s face into his hands. molding, against the hard angles of jim’s jaw, feeling the tiny nicks in his skin from where he’d cut himself shaving. it makes it real; however, illogically. it makes this, real. spock leans close & feels the warmth of jim’s breath on his own lips.  ❝  happy birthday, ashaya.  ❞  /  @spaceforkirk

the hands are impeccably smooth despite their bones and edges. long fingered and precise to every joint in his jaw, in his cheek, the ivory extensions slot against his face like puzzle pieces; they reach for him ( the rest of his personal hygiene routine can wait ), and he folds his forehead against the adjacent. it will be a long day of the year in a life only made possible with the end of another’s, but jim can think of no more stalwart an enemy against his morning’s melancholy than these hands, and in them, the gift of a vulcan’s great care and understanding.

“ mm, I made it another one. bones is gonna be hurtin’ for credits ”, he hums. irritability wanes gratefully into a closed-eyed smile, and the captain leaves the sink running while he places his own hands, his own care and relief imparted, on spock’s waist.

the next several moments happen in steady pace. spock neither moves to help or hinder the captain as he moves closer, only watching. he does not see the foundational reasoning behind jim’s embarrassment as it is. it exists clearly in the other man’s avoidance, the trepidation that lifts & plants each step with trembling care as if he did not need the things that hold him upright. however, it is not to say spock does not understand the purpose for his act to bravery. jim fears weakness. sympathy, perhaps. a thought that keeps the vulcan clear from his path, never touching, yet touched. spock has no intention to offer his pity. nor does he have any to give.                   ❝ they are working under the assumption your injuries were not as severe, ❞  he supplies, only signaling his ease with a shade drop of his shoulders to address the captain as he wishes, less formally. & more personal, as the truth of the matter had been,  ❝ given the circumstances surrounding it. doctor mccoy was certain you would understand. i was admittedly not so sure. ❞  

spock looks away, taking to the paved path of cement leading them from the ensemble of greenery so unlike anything from vulcan-that-was, but everything that reminded him of his mother. spock does not carry with him, his grief. not now. every step alongside the other man, as it had been every day, a new thread sewn through his wounds in his own process of healing. inwardly, he is aware of the anger those events had wrought. those memories would never leave him. just it would not, their fingerprints upon the glass. though, he has allowed them to change him.         ❝ you should not concern yourself with your performance, jim. i believe you will do well in your address to the fleet. ❞  he stops, looking over,  ❝ of course, where would you like to go? ❞

if spock felt sorry for him, he saw made no show of it. his face smooth as stone and just as expressive. jim is pleasantly surprised to discover, he appreciates the level emotional playing field accompanying appreciated this unspoken agreement: no bullshit. they’d signed this covenant ( T R U S T ) with a silent exchange of glances back when he realized he couldn’t walk --- long before that, even. neither man had violated it since.

“ no don’t get me wrong ”, he nods and begins with a creak of crutches, setting their pace along the pale cement. they travel opposite their normal route.  " i’m - relieved for the overall consensus to keep things on a need-to-know. despite much, personal conflict. we’re better off for it. for now. aren’t we? ” 

there’s a lot of heat certain members of his crew could catch should certain details of his rescue be released --- then heat of the LITERAL variety, that could turn onto those frozen old souls, should those details sparked interest in more poking and prodding. 

" kind of raises a difficult ethical question, don’nit? at what line do we stop preserving life and start playing god? ” jim isn’t smitten with the idea of keeping a bunch of people on ice indefinitely, superhuman or not, but one bridge at a time. he struggles along in stiff bends and wordless bodily complaints. a snicker, though, sneaked between teeth with a measured breath.

he paused in step with his first officer there at a juncture. his sore shoulders roll back as he rounds on him with a knowing shrug, “ either way. vulcans may not lie. but i know one who’s getting pretty damn great at bending the definition of true. ”

jim’s been enjoying making full use of that; it’s a great quote. how badass.  flinching, he hiked his armpits one by one off their uncomfortable perches. he gathered up the twin crutches. blue eyes linger a stare on the glint of sunlight off their metallic frame. it’s his only hesitation before extending them to spock with a nod.

‘ i can see that— ,’ he’s shaking his head, following with a slow gait like jim’s attitude’s done nothing except roll off his back. and it had, easily. because while the kid might not think so, all jim’s told him is that what he thinks is going on, is definitely going on.  ‘ it won’t be that bad, jim. ’ he says, adding those words that, in this case, he’s not so sure of, but it should count for something. they’re both smart, him and spock. it’s just another bump in the proverbial slip stream of space, so to speak.                ‘ they’ll clear you. spock, too. ’

jim launched a pursed-lipped glance over his shoulder that edged with a distinct forewarning: not here. a shake of his head re-centered his stare forward as he rounded a corner, but not before he nearly ran headlong into an ensign. 

“ shh --- ! ” he nearly swore, clamping down on his mouth. he caught & redirected the poor girl by the shoulders & offered her a hasty smile of solidarity, “ sorry. sorry. as you were.”

he was on his way again before she knew what had almost hit her. he walked fast, under the pending potential threat of duress.

“ yeah maybe. i mean their evidence is circumstantial at best but some of those book thumpers really seem to have it out for me after --- ”, he paused in speech & stride, face scrunched with an incredulous stare as bones fell into step beside him. “ --- pike --- what exactly do you know. and who told you, it definitely didn’t come from me. er, did it. it’s that obvious...? ”

‘s’this the part where tell me how you really feel OR the part where i tell you i already know?’     @spaceforkirk 

his face is still a subtle flush with angry heat, the distance he stalks away between himself & the conference room doing nothing to reduce it. frustrated fingers tugging the topmost button of his dress grey tunic free of the loop. admirals - those assholes - throwing words, explicit favoritism, obvious emotional compromise, like they know a damn thing.

“ not happy, bones ”, he replied, a snip to his speech & casual grin, “ let’s leave it there and get the hell out of here, i need a drink. ”

          @spaceforkirk​ requested Tom’s presence at 0900

Uncertainty has become his only mode of operation of late, indeed even now he feels the doubt, the urge to turn on his heel and pretend that he isn’t teetering precariously over an abyss so deep he can’t begin to fathom the fall. There’s no denying he’s been riding too close to the wire. Taking liberties that no Starfleet officer could hope to fly under the radar with let alone avoid the consequences. Not on any serving vessel, and certainly not on the Enterprise.

Jim told him not to worry, but friend or not he’s still the Captain. The Captain of a Starship braving potentially hostile territory on nothing but Starfleet principals and old-fashioned instinct. The last thing he needs is an insubordinate Lieutenant with a daredevil attitude and a penchant for trouble. 

Signalling his presence, he waits to be granted entry, carefree smile gracing his features as he saunters in with a joviality that can’t hope to mask the pain that loiters beneath the surface. Well, he guesses. It had to end somewhere.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

ship’s day in & out, starfleet captains are beholden to nearly innumerable RESPONSIBILITIES to their vessel & their crew, for so long as their mission status remains active ( & frankly, even after that ). some of it is easy. he balances duty rosters, fills post vacancies, files disputes, precedes diplomatic discourse, & directs expeditions. from the center seat he is the HEART & HEAD of the enterprise, but as proud, as potent as he is, he is just one man, only made more by the men & women he leads. together they are capable of anything - both great & terrible.

he loves his crew. he respects them for their strengths just as their weaknesses. he knows their skills, what they do & have done to get here, but five years is a long assignment - a long time to live under the pressure of artificial gravity & duty in a metal can hurling through space, as bones so eloquently put it. inconsistencies are to be expected.

they are only human. well, not all of them, but even spock must have his less-than-satisfactory days. certainly, even half-vulcans have limits. it’s the paradox of the job. enforcing lines, crossing others. making the distinction between the two. 

jim inflated his cheeks & breathed out slowly. his head’s in his hand, his elbow on his desk. he’d let this go on as long as he could. it would be a disservice to the uniform, & to tom, & others, if he continued to turn a blind eye. leg bouncing idly, he skims notes he had already committed to memory from the padd on his desk. the whole thing, has an uncomfortable read & flavor, & he’s no more ready for the chime signaling tom’s arrival than when he reviewed rehearsed points for a third round. he slid the padd away from him & sat up straight in his chair for his entrance.

“ lieutenant paris ”, he greets with a measured smile. jim crossed his arms & leaned back in his chair with a nod - blue eyes, already digging into his bubbly facade, “ take a seat. we’re blocked for fifteen minutes. spectacular maneuvering, yesterday, by the way, through that asteroid field. ”

“ what the hell is that ”, kirk inquired aloud, of the bridge and of anyone who had a better idea than he. shouldn’t be too difficult. he didn’t have one. a comet? a ship? his eyes combed the view-screen, perplexed. he sat forward in the chair.

“ helm drop us out of warp. mr. spock, full scan, are there any lifeforms on this thing? ”

@spaceforkirk​//Captain:

To say that she’s nervous would be to say that Aaamazzarites are a hairless species with pale yellow skin who bio-chemically produce everything on the planet from their mouths, which is to say, absolutely true. HOWEVER, Bobbi Morse is not one to back down from a challenge, which she hopes that the Enterprise will be. 

Honestly she’s excited to work with the Captain. She’s read about his experiences in the Academy, listened closely to the scuttlebutt. If there’s any ship that is going to be interesting it’s going to be the Enterprise, which is why she requested the ship in particular.  She’s nervous about entering the bridge but the doors slide open and she’s stuck pushing her glasses up her nose, pausing a moment.  “Captain, Permission to enter the bridge? I mean you requested to see me so I—” She was never very good at keeping her mouth shut when she’s nervous. 

the ENTERPRISE bridge is a glinting, chirping, chattering, mechanically humming whirl of expertly controlled chaos. there is a station for every task and a task for every hand present. it’s beautifully efficient --- also, extremely intimidating, if you aren’t used to it. jim can still recall his stalls at the turbolift the first few days ( maybe week ) he entered the seemingly untouchable scene in command gold. 

it was a look he could pick out on the new faces of his crew as they filed through the sliding doors, and one he found endlessly endearing.  a vague sense of adventure, wonder, anxiety, and excitement, he spots in the ensign as she appears between slates of plassteel. 

kirk smiled over his shoulder at her. ah, to be fresh faced again.

“ ms. --- morse? ”, he greeted, with some degree of question as a small thrill, of a tiny potential mistake struck him, and he tucked his chin to skim the padd in his hand. good, it was morse. 

 “ permission granted. step on up, and welcome to the brain of the enterprise. ”

< @xmousepotato​ >