Ok, But What An Utterly Perfect Reply Valentine. THIS IS AS PRECIOUS TO ME AS @brooklynislandgirl ♥️🩵♥️🩵♥️

exploring strange new worlds...

a roleplay blog for hikaru sulu from star trek - mixed media influence and 21+. told by olivia

𝖭 𝖸 𝖮 𝖳 𝖠 𝖴 𝖧 𝖴 𝖱 𝖠 ．

． 𝐼 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠

ᶠʳᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵏ

P R O M O

header, icons & promo credit: @fasciinating

animated dividers: @cafekitsune

[ [ all other edits & graphics done by me ] ]

hello there, i’m 30+ & i am mostly writing in the aos / kelvin timeline, but am happy & open to writing inside other star trek timelines ( specifically tos & snw ), but my portrayal will always be grounded in the concepts of the aos trilogy.

quick guidelines: crossover / oc friendly, 21+, slow-moderate activity, multiship, triggers tagged [ — tw. ] & ooc tagged [ — ooc. ], DMs open for plotting & ooc only, extremely heavy on plotting & world building. some nsfw will appear & tagged accordingly. i do use small text, icons, with minimal formatting. will happily adjust anything for mutuals with eyesight difficulties. please operate with basic roleplay ettiquette & manners.

  ——— INDEPENDENT ORIGINAL CHARACTER within the worlds of fallout, dune, star trek, & more. mature & triggering themes present. / CREATED BY AMY.

“You Treat an Outside Wound with Rubbing Alcohol; You Treat an Inside Wound with Drinking Alcohol. It’s Science."

@silverjetsystm for steven!

He will be known by the fox as though he always has.

@fasciinating & @haiiling

TEN OUT OF TEN VALENTINE RESPONSES. HONESTLY 'GIVE ME YOUR CREDIT CARD INFORMATION' IS FUCKING SENDING ME!! ♥️🩵♥️🩵✨

I THINK YOU ARE SO NICE TOO!!

KISSING YOUR CHEEK RN ACTUALLY!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I DIDN'T MAKE THIS BUT HERE @haiiling

also i am not sure if you've seen ds9 ( I HOPE YOU HAVE BECAUSE I THINK IT'LL MAKE YOU LAUGH HARDER ) but BONUS valentine's day card for you and the ds9 girlies

jk ( or am i )

@endeavvor , @fasciinating , @ensnchekov , @he1msman , @silverjetsystm , @brooklynislandgirl , @morgansmornings , @tangleweave , @wcrpbubble , @klasteris , @paramounticebound , @fleetcaptian , @classico-fazbear , @galaeus , @invictasol , @juramentum , @noblehcart , @vicit-vim-virtus

i am legit crying here

the enterprise senior crew at 100% power

the enterprise senior crew at 99% power

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.

Nyota did a slow swivel in her chair from the comms station, her back needle straight, shoulders back, eyes fixed to the good doctor, unpleasant a gaze though it was. Though it wasn’t meant for McCoy, no. Hardly. No, the sourness that bore itself into her face was for the lumbering Vulcan that had vacated the bridge a little under an hour ago.

A little under an hour ago where she distinctly heard him make the statement he was headed in the direction of sickbay.

The direction of.

This semantical, Vulcan, bastard.

And she wouldn’t be fool enough to try and provoke him with it if only to spare herself having to hear recited the exact semantics he escaped on.

She slowly blinked and the only indication to the ire that crept up her neck was the way she slung her earpiece across the comms counter.

“I doubt you’re wrong, Doctor,” Nyota rose from her chair, “— and I have three guesses where he might be, and maybe you should accompany me, because if I find him first, you won’t have to worry about tracking him down ever again, because he’s going out the fucking airlock,” she hissed in a scathing whisper between McCoy and herself.

" Look. I ain't tryin' to piss you off, okay? But I need to know just where the hell he's run off to. An' I know you know who I mean. Damn fool idiot's probably out there blinder than a bat in broad daylight. "

@haiiling