Exploring Strange New Worlds...

i'm sorry that i doubted you.

— 𝑇𝐻𝐸  𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸  𝐹𝑂𝑅  𝐴𝑁  𝐴𝑃𝑂𝐿𝑂𝐺𝑌  had  long  since  passed,  because  as  it  were  they  had  been  stranded  on  a  planet  that  while  hospitable  to  an  atmosphere  of  breathable  oxygen,  it  had  been  an  arid  desert  planet,  long  since  abandoned  by  its  ancient  occupants.  Uhura  had  vehemently  cautioned  the  Captain  on  the  grossly  underestimated  cunning  of  the  Ferengi  -  extending  to  an  incredible  aptitude  of  disguising  that  very  fact.  Though  an  alien  race  still  new  and  not  yet  a  part  of  the  Federation.  In  summation;  it  was  very  easy  to  be  charmed  and  swayed  by  said  cunning. And  presently  was  a  cunning  they  were  both  paying  the  price  of  as  they  walked  on  for  another  long,  scorching  mile. 

The  shuttle they had been piloting  was  taken  in by  a  deep  space  salvage  ship  when  it  locked  their  shuttlecraft  in it’s  tractor  beam. This ship itself was a  massively  large  vessel  that  belonged  to  an  alien  race  known  as  the  Drookmani.  A  scavenger  race  whose  whole  lineages  of  families  operated  together  on  ancient  and  gargantuan  ships,  sweeping  the  quadrant  for  whatever  they  could  lay  claim  to  over.  Drookmani  were  also  brutal  and  aggressive  in  nature,  and  per  their  cultural  and  social  structures  that  were  vaguely  similar  to  Klingons.  Their  escape  had  been  made  possible  through  the  cooperative  efforts  of  herself,  Kirk,  and  two  Ferengi  tradesmen  who  had  been  in  their  similar  situation.  This  help  came  on  the  contingency  they  would  be  allowed  to  take  ownership  of  the    entire  Drookmani  salvage  ship.  A  contingency  Uhura  snuffed  out  by  jumping  into  regulations  regarding  the  amount  of  Starfleet  cargo  and  ship  salvage  the  Drookmani  had  obtained.  Nyota  further  moved  on  to  cite  that  the  ship  itself  proved  vital  to  their  way  of  life,  and  as  a  result  would  not  be  permitted  to  assume  control  of  the  ship.  However,  in  an  act  of  good  faith,  Jim  offered  the  Ferengi  their  own  shuttle  once  they  returned  safely  to  the  Enterprise,  it  was  Starfleet  grade  and  Uhura  added  on  to  he  Captain’s  more  than  generous  offer  the  estimated  amount  of  gold  latinum  they  could  get  on  the  Romulan  blackmarket  for  Federation  craft.  Normally  this  isn’t  something  she  would  just  offer,  but  being  two  shrewd  salesmen  known  for  their  dealings  in  the  Romulan  blackmarket  trade,  she  simply  just  cut  to  the  point  of  what  the  both  of  them  were  thinking. Conversely,  Uhura  mentally  estimated  how  much  gold  latinum  everything  on  this  Drookmani  ship  would  be  worth,  and  she  knew  the  Ferengi  had  done  just  the  same.  The  Lieutenant  also  knew,  with  absolute  certainty,  a  more  precise  calculation  than  her  own. The  only  thing  they  could  have  offered  more  valuable  would  have  been  the  Enterprise  herself.  And so naturally it rang painfully false to the shrewd linguist as they put on a deeply appreciative and reverent show for she and Jim. There  was  nothing  about  that  she  trusted  and  insisted  to  him  that  he  not  trust  their  complacency. If  looks  could  kill  the  skin  would  have  melted  from  Jim  Kirk’s  whole  body  with  the  razors  that  dripped  from  his  Lieutenant’s  glaring  eyes  as  both  Ferengi  marched  Uhura  and  the  Captain,  at  phase  point  [  their  own  phasers  ]  into  escape  pods  that  would  maroon  them  on  this  fucking  godforsaken  planet:  It  was  a  one-hundred  and  twenty  miles  to  a  deep  space  outpost  and  the  only  company  she  had  was  the  one  person  whom  she  wanted  to  suffocate  by  holding  his  face  into  the  sand  until  he  stopped  moving. 

To  regulate  this  stabbing  agitation  Nyota  walked  about  twenty  paces  in  front  of  Jim.  The  short  leather  jacket  she  had  worn  for  their  original  mission  to  a  First  Contact  planet,  was  wrapped  around  her  waist,  the  sleeves  of  her  shirt  rippled  to  fashion  a  scarf  over  her  head  to  assuage  the  heat  to  some  degree.  A  heat  that  was  making  James  T.  Kirk’s  too-little-too-late  apology  to be taken seriously. 

“ Well  Captain,  that  might  be  useful  if  apologies  were  water.  Or  if  apologies  were  a  means  to  travel  back  in  time  to  the  SEVERAL  times  I  explained  why  we  shouldn’t  trust  them,  why  we  shouldn't  allow  them  phasers  –  it’s  as  though  you  entirely  deleted  the  fact  I  spent  our  last  shore  leave  at  the  Academy  taking  Doctor  Pheaser’s  course  on  Ferengi  Dialects  in  tandem  with  Alegheri’s  night  course  on  Ferengi  known  history  and  culture  –  you  signed  my  entry  request,  Jim! ”  The  shrillness  that  came  from  the  edges  of  her  blooming  anger  hung  at  the  back  of  her  throat,  stopping  now  and  turning  to  face  Kirk. “You  know  –  an  alien  race  in  which  we’re  trying  to  induct  into  the  Federation,  but  why  as  Captain  of  the  fucking  flagship  should  you  either  have  to  know  any  of  that  or  trust  the  person  appointed  to  know  EXACTLY  THAT should you be bothered with such pedantic things, right?”  Hands  that  were  thrust  onto  her  hips  now  hung  as  limp  arms  at  her  sides.  Uhura’s  head  tipped  back. She  took  in  a  deep  and  even  breath,  understanding  that  shouting  at  her  Captain  was  never  a  good  idea  and  not  representative  of  how  she  liked  to  conduct  herself  no  matter  Jim’s  flagrant  disregard  to  codes  of  conduct.

“𝐴𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠,  𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛.” 

She  wasn’t.  They  both  knew  that.

ミ★ 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙪𝙥, 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙧𝙨 !

here’s more FREE graphics.

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here’s a link to the previous post as well !

( post #1 )

☟︎

❤︎︎ 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 ＆ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 !!

hozier lyrics, hozier (expanded edition)

❛  i should've worshipped them sooner. ❜

❛  we were born sick. ❜

❛  the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you. ❜

❛  i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

❛  good god, let me give you my life. ❜

❛  there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. ❜

❛  it's toying somewhere between love and abuse. ❜

❛  no more alone or myself i could be. ❜

❛  [i/you] lurched like a stray to the arms that were open. ❜

❛  i lay my heart down with the rest at [your/their] feet. ❜

❛  i wonder if it's better now having survived. ❜

❛  i'm so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. ❜

❛  no better version of me i could pretend to be tonight. ❜

❛  [they/you] found me just in time. ❜

❛  cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done, i need to be youthfully felt cause i never felt young. ❜

❛  it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometimes. ❜

❛  we tried the world and it wasn't for us. ❜

❛  you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

❛  would things be easier if there was a right way? ❜

❛  honey, there is no right way. ❜

❛  i fall in love just a little bit every day with someone new. ❜

❛  there's an art to life's distractions. ❜

❛  love with every stranger, the stranger the better. ❜

❛  all i've ever done is hide. ❜

❛  when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel ike a person for a moment of my life. ❜

❛  but you don't know what the hell you put me through. ❜

❛  it feels good to be alone with you. ❜

❛  there are questions i can't ask. ❜

❛  now, at last, the worst is over. ❜

❛  i know that you hate this place. ❜

❛  there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? ❜

❛  there's something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you. ❜

❛  innocence died screaming. ask me, i should know. ❜

❛  there's something broken about this but i might be hoping about this. ❜

❛  we'll lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand. so still and discreet. ❜

❛  i'd be home with you. ❜

❛  any way to distract and sedate. ❜

❛  i'm somewhere outside my life. i keep scratching but somehow i can't get in. ❜

❛  don't you stand there watching me, won't you? ❜

❛  don't you join in, you're supposed to drag me away from it. ❜

❛  i'm so full of love, i could barely eat. ❜

❛  [they/you] are sweet as can be. [they/you] give me toothaches just from kissing me. ❜

❛  no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to [them/you]. ❜

❛  you never asked me once about the wrong i did. ❜

❛  [you/they] would never fret none about what my hands and my body done. ❜

❛  if the lord don't forgive me, i'd still have you and you would have me. ❜

❛  why were you digging? what did you bury? ❜

❛  i will not ask you where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

❛  just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do. ❜

❛  i know that look, eyes always seeking. ❜

❛  i will not ask you why you were creeping. in some sad way, i already know. ❜

❛  you know better than to smile at me like that. ❜

❛  i know who i am when i'm alone. ❜

❛  you don't understand. you should never know how easy you are to need. ❜

❛  don't let me in with no intention to keep me. ❜

❛  it can't be unlearned. i've known the warmth of your doorways. ❜

❛  i'll find my way back to you. ❜

❛  my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man's beliefs. ❜

❛  screaming the name of a foreigner's good is the purest expression of grief. ❜

❛  i feel no control of my body. i feel no safety in [your/their] arms. ❜

❛  all that i've been taught and every word i've got is foreign to me. ❜

❛  it looks ugly but it's clean. ❜

❛  your fight and fury is fiery. ❜

❛  it's worth it, it's divine. i have this some of the time. ❜

❛  you called my name til the fever broke. ❜

❛  i heard a scream in the woods somewhere. ❜

❛  i turned and ran to save a life i didn't have. ❜

❛  i need you to run to me. run to me! ❜

❛  when i was a child, i heard voices. some would sing and some would scream. ❜

❛  don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash. ❜

❛  you've done me wrong for a long, long time. ❜

❛  after all you've done, i never changed my mind. ❜

❛  please, try to love me. ❜

❛  my love will never die. ❜

Nyota Uhura fought the Duolingo Owl and won

HOW BORG IS YOUR BORG WHEN YOU BORG?

What is your Borg name?: The Borg Ultimatum

Do you appear in the dreams of the Borg Queen?: I hope so, that bitch is sure in mine. Yowza

What is the best thing about the Borg?: All the shit we stole from y’all

What is your dream planet to assimilate?: The Moon

How many of your character arch’s tie into Captains Picard and Janeway?: Too many

Are you that fucking traitor Hugh?: Fuck no

What y’all did to Guinan was messed tf up: Yeah? Well do sumn about it, Chief

Have you ever met Q?: No, and I hope I never do. That weird, theatrical, attention seeking cooze

If you could assimilate anyone - who would it be?: Jay

Do you mind the constant clammy flesh?: Not at all, I’m 97 and have no wrinkles

Have you ever quietly not added someone biological distinctiveness to your own?: All the time. It happens more than you think

Did you kind of hate Locutus?: Only because he just showed up and suddenly he’s the favorite? Nah, fuck that

Easiest assimilation?: Your Mom

tagged by: god & destiny

tagging: @fasciinating , @ahtlus , @hiippocrates , @spokh , @pointyxearedbastard-a , @antiivenom

⸻ 𝐻𝐴𝐼𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑁.

𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 ／ 𝘰𝘤 ＆ 𝘥𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 ／ 𝘢𝘶 ＆ 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 ／ 21+

@fasciinating

Beauty ❤️

WHAT HE SAID WAS LOST INTO THE DESERT with The Maker while Uhura was lost inside of Spock's proximity – the way it was sudden, but simultaneously time elongated. No one sat this close; Uhura rarely permitted it of anyone. But she dreamt of him. She dreamt of his closeness. She dreamt of it as recently as that morning. For long years Uhura entertained dreamless sleeps, a blank void where exhaustion went to die and be remade into something useful in time for her to meet the sun. Uhura’s slumbers, just as her days, were functional, purposeful and planned; scarcely did she award herself frivolity. She loved her people, her Sietch; her whole, short and brutal nineteen years of life were committed to their betterment, their prosperity and defense – to their survival. Uhura could hear their laughter below echoing up from the Sietch – she wanted to turn her head, to briefly escape the weight of this intimacy. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. A fear lingered that if she broke this moment, if she looked away - it would slip through her fingers like spice on hot winds rolling up from the south. The moons were alight, reflected in vivid detail against the inky dark of his eyes; and if she trained her eyes against his enough, there mirrored in his she could even make out each finger of The Hand of God. Uhura could feel his breath against her lips, his air rolling over her tongue when she breathed in – breathing him into her lungs, into her blood. Uhura pressed their hands hard against her stomach, sliding her free hand overtop, pushing harder into her abdomen creating a natural lean-in, shaving away at the liminal space between their mouths. This pervasive kind of intimacy, fresh and new, like golden sun rising over the dunes - all the same it wasn’t natural to how she connected with people. With anyone at all. Not like this. But few things can survive, whole and joyful, on Arrakis; even in the secret places held by the heart. Because here she felt a stab of what felt like grief, but a grief she had not yet felt, followed with indecent haste by grief’s familiar bedfellow: Dread. What was this feeling? Harder she pressed their hands against the sinewy muscle of her belly, nails digging into his skin. She didn't dare to move. She let grief and dread wrestle against her bones, letting the breath in her throat paralyze while she fell headlong into the endless black of his eyes – there was something ill fated screaming from the expanse of a future she couldn’t dream. Instead rose the heat of her heart, an organ of brimstone promising ruin to anything that dared seek it’s favor. Uhura’s heart was an inhospitable place – molten fire flowed where there should have been blood; it was a place where only dragons could go.  A place where only dragons could stay. “ D’rachanya, ” repeating the word with barely a breath, heady in the way it came from her like a spell or conjuration. She closed the final piece of space between them. Would they burn the other if their lips touch?

Not outwardly. Rather it burned inwardly, where the point of origin was the center of her stomach, the place where Uhura still held fast to his hand with both of hers. Deeper she pushed into him, committing the details of his mouth to sacred memory. The swirling movement of her jaw, her lips, had slowed – slowing until finally she stopped and pulled away, but only just far enough she could level her eyes to his again. “ If you were to become a dragon – would you still come to Arrakis and find me in the desert? ”

@fasciinating

She ran two, slow fingers against the underside of his index and middle fingers. It was a custom entirely alien to her, but Uhura liked the rush of warmth in her chest incited by listening to the way his breath would change, albeit almost imperceptibly. They sat on the ridge of a particularly steep dune, the sun having melted into the horizon hours ago, where Uhura held his hand in hers, like some delicate, invaluable treasure unearthed from the deep desert, idling together in contented silence - broken by the onset of a sudden thought-turned-spoken query. “ Hayalit, ” she began, though the scathing she once married to this term had dissolved bit-by-bit, leaving behind the suggestions of deep affection she had yet to speak aloud between them. An affection that still only lived by touch and sight; in dreams.  “ – I once heard a man in Arrakeen say that long ago dragons ruled your distant, red deserts. Is that true ? ” Uhura’s fingers idly remained against the underside of his, with a slow and steady back and forth as she moved her own. “Could you find them, Mahdi ? ” But a smirk pushed itself in the corner of her mouth. She didn’t necessarily believe Spock to be the Lisan al-Gaib, and from time to time she reminded him of that but the cavalier way she would use all those holy names her people had assigned him.

HE RESISTS A SHUDDER ON THE plains of Arrakis. The sun is gone, bright gold away from the sea of red flecks and shimmering heat. Spock can still see it as it rises from the sands, a contradiction to the sensations she gives him, the cool touch of her fingertips. It is almost reverent, the hiss and curl of a slow-burning fire. But Spock is not so foolish as to consider what she does, the things she says to him, with anything else but teasing. He watches them nonetheless, partially distracted until Uhura calls him by the name given to him by the desert and its people. Hayalit, followed by others, other words that skitter, demanding things, against his skin and the curves of his ears.

It means to change, creature of the deep crimson sand with mutating scales. Spock stares nowhere, everywhere all at once, eyes dark when they pin somewhere between the ravines of her fingers. How can he change for the good of the many, never the few?

Never the one.

Spock cannot pretend to know; he loathes the answer. It seeks him regardless.

—fire and glass, a red flag streaming across a battlefield with the symbol of his father's house.

" Dragons? " Spock raises a brow. " D'rachanya, " he explains, Vuhlkansu knife-like where it sears off his tongue and he twitches his chin, sharp and an observant like a bird, " So they say. "

His hand fists, gripping hers, flexing and immediately stilling, as though aghast of its own involuntary movement. Spock shakes his head, " I have no wish to. " He cannot, calculating; despite its strangeness, there are greater possibilities than such a discovery. He leans, mouth quirking slightly above hers. " It would be more likely to become one. "

@haiiling

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