Stolen Kisses
It’s a quiet beta shift on the enterprise. Shore leave is in effect with much of the crew planet side leaving a late night stroll available for the ships captain and first officer. The quiet halls feel warm and comfortable. More like home than any other place. In this dusky peace the masks of command can drop. Finally like a long breath out a moment, a touch, in time can be stolen.
Stolen Kisses
Kirk stepped to the head of the bench, out of the Vulcan’s sight. “Spock!” He whispered and, when there came no response, felt the hot forehead. Yes, he thought, it was above even the Vulcan’s normal high temperature.
“Jim” The Vulcan’s eyes had not opened.
“One moment,” Kirk whispered, “before you look, A change-”
“In you?” Spock said, keeping the eyes closed.
“In me,” Kirk stepped around to where he could be seen. “All right”
The Vulcan’s eyes opened and widened, but the Vulcan mask - almost - held.
Spock Sat up, his lip drawing suddenly against his teeth as if the movement were agony. But he ignored it to look at Kirk. “Fascinating”
- The Procrustean Petard, Star Trek: New Voyages 2
Spock roused from his sleep with the feeling of a gentle palm brushing against his forehead. He took in the dishevelled and beaten sight of his Captain.
“Captain” he whispered voice rough “You are fatigued”
“Don’t fret” Jim said warmly “there’s a break in the fighting so I’ll rest a moment. How’s the stomach?”
Spock hesitated for before replying
“Intact”
“Thought it might have hit one of your hearts. For a moment I-” the words died in his throat and Spock felt the hand by his side tense into a fist “I’m glad it missed”
“The crew will be here soon. I’d tell you it’s going to be ok but I’m worried that you might strain something explaining the lack of data to back that statement up” he said and in his face Spock read something peculiar. He assumed it was delirium but here, in the height of their peril, Jim’s face seemed to glow with adoration.
“Jim” he hushed.
“Yes?”
“It is quite illogical” Spock spoke the words he somehow knew Jim wanted to hear. Jim looked like something had snapped inside him. He leaned forward and kissed Spock’s brow.
“Rest” He said “that’s an order, Mister”
Just finished reading Enigma Tales and while it is an absolutely banging read (the best Star Trek book I’ve read) I was left with a renewed Garashir hunger. I don’t know why the top half of Bashir’s onesie star fleet uniform is wrapped around his waist so that his upper body is exposed. Don’t ask me. (Probably working in a garden for Garak or something whombst to know)
“Captain, it is my understanding that occupants of the 17th-century boarding houses on earth would often share a bath for the conservation of water and heat. I surmise from your staring that you are interested in partaking in this ritual. Is that correct?” Spock inquired evenly his stare seeming to reach into the recesses of Jim’s hungry mind.
His hand twitched at his side, the dust under his collar and against his skin itching. He swallowed hooking a finger under the top button of his shirt. Spocks eyes darkened almost imperceptibly but Kirk caught it feeling grounded immediately. A smile curled into the corners of his mouth as he plucked the button open.
“If you don’t mind?” He offered politely reaching for the next. They hadn’t played chess in months but Jim knew a game when he saw one.
“By all means” Spock replied leaning back.
Why was there no trapped in the actual Wild West episode of Star Trek TOS? Why? I’ll tell you why. Because they were afraid. Afraid of the sheer sexual magnetism of cowboy Spock. In my essay I will-
So I was like ‘I wanna do this colour in process properly’ and then I was like ‘what would it look like if Star Trek The Animated Series was made now’ and this is what it would look like. Fully canon and ready to explore the galaxy. I’ll do it properly eventually 🤣
(Still based on First, Best Destiny by @ophelia-j)
Wanted to work on the colour of this WIP but didn’t get a ton of time. I’ll work on it more.
(Art of by First, Best Destiny by the very talented @ophelia-j )
michaelmandog
Lalo visits Albuquerque in 1990. He sees an 18 years old Nacho who barely looks up from the floor while Lalo scolds a 20 years old Tuco (“Ay, why would tío let a kid run this place?”) Varga is a pretty young thing, looks strong enough too, but there’s this glint in his eye when he finally raises his head to say something to Tuco. Lalo never forgets it.
In 1990, Lalo would call him mi ángel, mi cielito. Nacho would be blushing hard, and then going out of his way to look tough and impress Lalo. Lalo who would say “You still have a long way to go, cielito. But tell you what! Keep that up and who knows, maybe next time we meet I’ll call you by your name”.
Nacho in his early cartel years would already be smart, but terribly, terribly dumb if a handsome, powerful older man started paying attention to him. He hasn’t been shot yet, he hasn’t bled for the Salamancas. His dad is still none the wiser that he’s slipping dirty money into the cash register at the shop.
Nacho is 18, going on 19, and on a power high. His usually sharp senses would absolutely fail him.
More ideas being thrown around below the cut
