#Christopher Wheate

[growingstories]

Farming

High-rolling lawyer James Christophers is a name partner in a prestigious firm, specializing in liability cases for pharmaceutical clients. He is known for his handsome, muscular appearance and confident attitude. Despite his tight schedule, which includes early morning workouts and back-to meetings-back, James enjoys the city and life his spends weekends at bars gay, always with a new boyfriend in town.

Recently, James inherited a vast farm in the middle of nowhere in Northeast Ohio from his late uncle. As he was married to his mother's sister and childless, James is the sole heir. Although James flies to the farm in the company jet during weekends, he finds the intensity of combining the farm and his city life overwhelming.

It is during one of these visits that he meets Jackson, his neighbors' 20-year-old son. Jackson, who prefers to be called Jackie, reveals that he is on the brink of losing his wrestling scholarship if he doesn't win his next match.

In a surprising turn of events, James proposes a deal to Jackie. If Jackie loses the match, James will pay for his last year of tuition In return, Jackie agrees to work on the farm during his free time while attending school. Unfortunately, Jackie loses the match and immediately starts working on the farm. The initial weeks prove to be challenging as he tackles manual tasks such as harvesting and yard work, providing enough physical exercise to maintain his muscular physique. As the holidays approach and there is less work to do on the farm, Jackie realizes he has gained weight due to his continued wrestling diet.

In the spring, James visits the farm and unveils his plan for a flourishing agricultural business. He introduces a new fertilizer for wheat and corn, promising faster growth and larger yields. Although it is not yet available on the market, James decides to conduct a trial season. The whole village becomes interested, and James offers to share the results after the next harvest.

Even though there is a lot of hard labour Jackie keeps eating like he did as a wrestler, during the summer, Jackie continues to gain weight, reaching a staggering 260 pounds.

Also James sees his weight climbing. Despite the weight gain, the crops thrive, and James seizes the opportunity to sell his shares in the law firm and invest the money in expanding his farming business. The town becomes dependent on James for their seed supply, and he even keeps some wheat for the local bakery and corn for his own livestock.

Eventually, Jackie graduates and secures a job at a real estate company out of state. This leaves James in need of a solution the to farm work. He finds Danny, the son of a local baker.

Though Danny lacks ambition, he possesses a strong work ethic. Unfortunately, working alongside this young man becomes detrimental to James' fitness goals, as he gains weight due to the delicious goods from Danny's mom she prepares everyday for them.

Desperate to lose weight, James spends two months at a fitness resort. Upon his return, he successfully sheds the excess fat and gains some muscle, resulting in a weight of 205 pounds.

However, he quickly gains weight yet again after consuming too many pastries from the bakery, reaching 237 pounds. Concerned the about rapid weight gain, James reaches out to his previous clients for the trial reports, only to discover that the hormones in the seed additives cause an increase in appetite and muscle growth, as well as the faster storage of fat in humans and animals.

Faced with this startling revelation, James contemplates his options. After studying the fine prints he realizes that he is legally protected and not liable for the consequences of the seed additives. Unsure whether to inform the baker or Danny's mother, James decides to continue with the next season, planning to visit a fitness resort as soon as the seeds are planted. However, amid the increasing demands of his growing business and the rapid weight gain of his animals, he struggles to find a solution for his own weight.

Frustrated, James strikes a deal with Danny. In exchange for not revealing James' secret of not eating, to his mother, he pays Danny a bit more. Danny agrees to eats both his and James’ food his mother baked. Weeks and months pass, and James remains unable to lose the weight. Without the motivation of his previous lifestyle, he is less concerned about his appearance.

Meanwhile, Danny's newfound popularity because of his new size leads him to overeat even more from his mothers goods.

After a year, Danny has gained an astonishing 220 pounds of pure fat, reveling in his newfound sense of power and masculinity. In town, he becomes popular among girls who appreciate his larger frame. However, the consequences of his actions, as well as his increasing weight, continue to unfold.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 2: HAUNTED LEG-TUMBLR IS HUNGIE AND KEEPS EATING MY POSTS

The Netflix synopses (synopseses? Synposi? Where are you, Jess Mariano? You're my only hope) made this episode seem like it was going to be heavily En-Crusty'd (Christopher focused) but then the lovely @frazzledsoul told me that in this episode Rory takes Christopher to school (metaphorically) and this is also the episode where Jess takes RORY down a peg in a GLORIOUS confrontation at Doose's Market. If there's one thing I love seeing in Gilmore GIrls it's a good peg lowering. In fact, it gives me such immense satisfaction to see Rory in particular get taken down a peg that the three times Dean does it to her are the only times I actually side with Dean. Let the Notch-Taking-Down Party commence. But first....Happy 18th birthday, Jess! You're legal, mister! I am solidly and forever in the Late August/ Early September Birthday Camp (I have my reasons) and we're already there on the show! It's been almost a year since he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old! I'm gonna make it easy and say it was September 1st.

Now you can visit the strip club, and buy porn and cigarettes legally! You're a man now! (well, at least you could buy cigarettes at 18 years old 20 years ago. It's 21 now). Episode begins with Emily still being predictably salty about last week's FND, where Lorelai snuck out of the house while her parents were fighting over her breakup with Crusty.

Don't listen to her. You do can do whatever you want, even while you're on the clock. My little shmushkins. My apple dumpling. My peach tart. My banana muffin. My jelly donut. You're gonna make a bazillion dollars with your books some day and show em all. *pinches his cheeks* Lorelai is coming down with an illness which I shall diagnose as mononucleosis (aka the kissing disease) that she contracted from making out with Dean Forrester.

Lorelai has no qualms about leaving the house to eat out every single day in a crowded diner and spread her germs all over town, instead of keeping her ass in bed, I guess. She's also incapable of purchasing and opening a can of soup and dumping it in a pot on the stove (or hell, even sticking it in the microwave) so she wakes up each day and chooses to be a Disease Vector. If she wasn't (presumably) still married to Luke in 2020 to cook her meals for her at home I don't know how she survived the pandemic. Luke: You know what helps a cold? A healthy immune system. You know how to get a healthy system? By not eating crap and blowing out your brain cells with coffee. Eat a vegetable now and then or some high fiber cereal. At least eat the carrots in the soup? Three minutes in and he's already Insulting Lorelai (while, uh, also insulting himself at the same time?) Whee, I'm loving this episode already! More Peg-Lowering, please! Several people on this show are going to be HUMBLED and I am HERE for it. But why is Luke always downselling food that he puts on his own menu? I know Lorelai and Rory don't ever pay him anyway, but doesn't he want to attempt to make some money? "My food will make you fat and sick and kill your brain cells. Don't eat it. Go eat somewhere else." Or is it that he's a-okay with poisoning the rest of Stars Hollow with copious amounts of junk food but wants to spare Lorelai and Rory the same fate? One would also suppose he doesn't actually have said vegetables or fiber rich cereal on his menu in the first place (it's a fucking diner) and that would mean Lorelai would have to pour herself her own cereal at home. Perish the thought. Is Luke secretly some kind of California Hipster in denial? Would he be more at home opening some kind of vegan cafe where he serves wheat grass shots and kombucha and avacado toast, you know, all the stuff Milo Ventimiglia eats. (But Milo’s a big junk food junky too, he's a bit of a paradox, that man). What does he feed Jess, by the way? In his first appearance he was planning to stuff his already neglected and malnourished nephew full of Corn Flakes and Pop Tarts.

Grandpa here is going to live to be 115 probably, but only if you shut up, you're already sending him to an early grave.

EVERYONE STOP EATING AND TALKING. THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED! Anyone else think its funny that Lorelai and Rory and Luke are ilke the mayors of Stars Hollow who know everything down to when the mailman's dog farts but nobody knows who Shane is, where she came from, who her family is, when she moved in, where she lives, how she ended up with Jess...ANYTHING? Nobody even seems to know her name? Silence from Miss Patty and Babette? Lane and Dean never informed Rory that Jess was never in school, that he supposedly pulled the fire alarm, stole 500 baseballs, etc etc. again, shouldn't Lane be absolutely losing her mind to spill this piping hot tea that Jess has been hooking up with some mysterious blond skankbag all summer? And Dean too, shouldn't he always be dying to tell Rory anything that would cast Jess in an unfavorable light and make her think less of him? What is with this town where they'll hold an emergency meeting because he drew on a sidewalk with some chalk but when he actually does something worth talking about, nobody wants to narc on him? They fear him, that's what it is. What is Shane's last name by the way? I made up a poll and asked you to decide on her last name and I'm currently awaiting the results, which I will use going forward.

Jess and Shane continue to give Rory Gilmore a sexual awakening so immense it could knock our fucking solar system out of alignment. That boom you just heard was Jupiter and Saturn crashing into one another from the sheer force of Rory Gilmore's quivering loins.

Tomatos Sign. I wonder how much money Jessica Kiper was paid to stick her tongue in Milo's mouth and say "Hey" and "Jess". Did she have to audition? I would do the job for free. I would keep screwing up just so the director could yell "Cut" and I could do as many takes as possible. Warner Brothers could own me for the rest of my life just for that opportunity.

Meow! All she did was say his name, lol. Someone's cranky. You know what would cure that bad mood? A good handjob from Shane (last name soon to be announced). This whole "no strings attached sexual gratification" deal that was seemingly dropped in his lap? Meh, whatever. He'll do it, but he'll be reading the entire time. Meanwhile, this is Dean waiting 5 years for Rory to put out:

(By the way, Mr. Mariano, don't ever tell a woman to "relax") Jess sighs and leaves in the middle of his shift (Lorelai should be proud), leaving his customers wondering where their pancakes are, to go have sex with Shane somewhere public and indecent, leaving Rory in their horny wake. Perhaps Jess has the intuition that the cold, clammy, looming hand of Celibacy (aka his own hand and a jumbo size bottle of lotion) will soon be upon him so he better seize these opportunities.

Love it when she says shit like this as if her boyfriend Dean Forrester is some fucking chatterbox (he'll grunt a few words as he's also a typical teenage boy like Jess and she'll go "That's So INTERESTING Dean! Do go on. I love you, little buttered croissant"), and also like she should actually expect Jess to talk around her when he knows she's going to pick on him even worse if he does have something to say.

Too late. That's hilarious- I forgot that Dean was about to show up just now and prove my point.

She's still wearing that stupid quarter on a string on her wrist. I will give this show credit for being very consistent with some of the small details like this. Every day for 2+ years straight, Alexis Bledel shows up at Wardrobe and they slap that thing on her wrist. That cup is HUGE.

Yeah. What? I could teach a comatose goldfish to say "I already ate breakfast." The hell is your point?

Oh god. It's that episode where Kirk and Lorelai go on a "Date". I do not remember how it goes but I'm gonna take a stab in the dark here and predict that it was sufficiently awkward. Honestly...Lorelai has done MUCH worse before and will continue to do much worse than Kirk. Mommy issues aside, Kirk has more redeeming qualities than Max or Crusty. Like, at least Kirk is ambitious. Lorelai is still only a few months removed from banging Crusty who wouldn't know the meaning of hard work if it bit him in the ass. I hope something bites Crusty in the ass. Like a rabid possum. Kirk...."Let's go out...In two weeks. I heard you have a cold. It takes two weeks for a virus to leave the immune system." He's also smart and would survive the pandemic. "You might be the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Outside of a filthy magazine."

It's the first day of senior year for Rory and our other Stars Hollow teens.

It's all downhill for Rory after high school.

Nobody tell her. L: I cannot go out with Kirk! R: Why not? L: He's Kirk! Poor Neurodivergent Kirk.

Fixed it.

i was about to say "What the what! Lorelai is actually pouring her own cereal?" but it's Rory wno's making her own breakfast and Lorelai is just pouring marshmallows into the bowl (who does that? That's not a thing. Here in The United States of America, there are already cereals that come with marshmallows). I mean, at least she's eating at home and "helping". Good for you for helping to feed to your chiild, Lorelai. Even if she's eschewing the (marginally) more healthy Raisin Bran in favor of Rice Krispies. I'm going to add a new feature to the ends of these posts: I call it: Things Googled While Watching GIlmore GIrls. Birthday Party Icons, How Old To Buy CIgarettes in Connecticut, Definition of Proclivities, How Many Words Can A Parrot Learn

#denise rewatches gilmore girls #haunted leg #gilmore girls season 3 #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #jess mariano #Shane #Kirk Gleason #Happy Birthday Jess #My Sweet Little Virgo Boy #My LIttle Bowl Of Rice Krispies with Marshmallows #Birthday Smooches #I was watching the marhsmallows thing and thinking #AmyShermanPalladino might not actually be an Earthling #Human Beings do not eat Parmesan sprinkle cheese raw from the can either #nor did teenagers in 2001 make copious references to 1950’s television shows #it takes 50 years for television signals to reach Amy’s home planet so that’s why she’s behind

[pick-and-shovel-laborer]

ooc ;; mun day catch up.

Mun comforts:

tagged by: @rolliesmuses

tagging: anyone

Jesse ( he/him )

Comfort food: Any kind of low carb/whole wheat pasta, especially lasagna; prosciutto sandwich on whole wheat with mustard; bison burger with fat free cheese and avocado on whole wheat bun

Comfort drink(s): Sugar free mocha

Comfort movie(s): All the first three Indiana Jones movies; all the Spider-Man "Home" movies, and the first two Raimi movies, and the two Spider-Verse movies; Dark Knight trilogy and the two Burton Batman movies, and Mask of Phantasm; Superman I and II with Christopher Reeve; Monty Python and the Holy Grail; Blazing Saddles; Spaceballs; Airplane!

Comfort show(s): Friends, Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm; Futurama; classic Looney Tunes cartoons

Comfort clothing: A t-shirt with Uncle Scrooge's head cut off so it looks like my head on Scrooge's body

Comfort song(s): Pretty much anything from James Taylor

Comfort book(s): Anything from Clive Cussler

Comfort game(s): DuckTales Remastered; classic Tetris

[iosagol]

I understand why some might think Superman 1978 is cheesy But no Christopher Reeve plays that man like an utter god

You see Clark Kent (1978): ~ *pretends to faint to cover up for the fact he was shot in the chest and the bullet bounced harmlessly off him* ~ *built an ice castle like Elsa* ~ *once spent twelve years straight watching videos about space and alien culture* ~ *after saving his coworker from a crashing burning helicopter* Statistically speaking, this is still the safest mode of travel :DD ~ *very seriously in an interview* I do like the color pink. ~ *puts on the most elaborate squeaky voice and nerd glasses to disguise himself as A Normal Man and you know what he's actually unrecognizable* ~ *traveled to the North pole in nothing but Kansas flannel and jeans*

This movie Is what I want superhero movies to be again No battling with nukes and giant lizards to save the multiverse universe solar system No nazis, no ninjas Just a mashup of Megamind and Star Trek Just an alien growing up in the golden wheat of Kansass and working at an energetic news company Just a reporter being stunned into understandable awe of this inhuman person that is saving people across the city, and actually spending several minutes to recite a bit of decently adorable poetry in a voice-over as Superman and Lois reenact Alladin and Jasmine going flying in a starry night There's not a shred of green screen there No crazy action sequences It's people being silly, flirty, embarrassed, confused, dorky, etc.

It puts the man in superman

#superman 1978 #Superman #christopher reeve

[clusterbuck]

Oh no, he realized. I'm in love. Buddie

the number five is a social construct

oh no, he realises. i’m in love.

the realisation hits eddie in the firehouse loft at three in the morning, and it’s such a stupid moment that he wants to tell the universe no, wants to tell it to come back another day because this can’t be when he realises he’s in love with his best friend. it can’t be.

something this momentous—and it is momentous, eddie knows. it’s a puzzle piece clicking into place. it’s drawing the blinds in the morning to let the sunlight in. something this momentous is going to remain etched in his memory forever. it’s a story he’s going to tell christopher, one day, and any other children or grandchildren he and buck might be blessed with.

this is the moment that changes the rest of his life, he knows it. eddie’s not sure of much in this world, but he’s sure of buck. this is the moment when everything changes.

so it’s sort of a shame that his realisation, the moment he’ll remember for the rest of his life, comes on the heels of watching buck make the world’s most questionable sandwich, sliced bananas and whipped cream from a can on whole wheat bread.

buck tries to squirt some of the cream directly into his mouth and misses, somehow, ending up with whipped cream on the end of his nose. he tries to wipe it off but the can is still in his hand, and he must hit the button by accident because seconds later he looks like he’s been the victim of a particularly vicious pie-throwing incident.

and eddie wants to laugh at him, but there’s warmth spreading in his chest and all he can think is oh.

he crosses the loft to the kitchen, grabbing the roll of paper towels on his way to buck. “hey,” he says, stopping in front of him. “you’ve, uh. got a little something on your—”

buck scoffs, and without warning he reaches out, grabs eddie, and pulls him close enough to smear his whipped-cream covered cheek across eddie’s face.

“funny,” buck says, his grin bright even through the cream. “so do you.”

yeah, eddie thinks. he’s not sure of much in this world, but he’s sure of buck.

send me a ship and a sentence and i’ll write some more sentences

#ask emma #emma writes

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 14: The Admirals

Hello everyone!! :) <3

Some notes on this chapter:

I am accepting as fact that Christopher Pike was disabled in a warp core accident and shooting the rest of that canon, the menagerie included, out the airlock. 

I’m using the actor for April from Strange New Worlds to describe April in this fic even though this is not an SNW fic. 

This chapter had me googling shit like “wheat bacteria. Wheat fungal infection. Causes of wheat fungal infection.” I was five citations deep into the National Library of Medicine. I learned what mycotoxicosis was. If the science is wrong, please forgive me. My mother (me) was an English major and my father (also me) did poorly in freshman chem in college. 

Ty ripley for fact-checking me. I got lied to by the hollywood reporter

Also posted on my AO3 here :)

Enjoy! Smooches ahead!!

☆☆☆

When Kirk awoke, mind rising from a deep, dreamless sleep as swiftly as a bubble through water, his face was pressed into something warm and firm, something that rose and fell rhythmically under his cheek. His hand rested over Spock’s stomach, the beat of his heart fluttering beneath his palm, and Spock’s hand rested on his hip, his arm curled around Kirk’s back, keeping him close.

Kirk relaxed against him, comfortable, warm, and safe. Even after reliving the worst period of his life, after the rollercoaster of a day that their honeymoon had been, no nightmare had disturbed him. So much had changed over just twenty-four hours: he had gone from mourning the loss of his friendships to showing his first officer (his husband, his mind reminded him) everything that he had promised never to share. 

And somewhere in between those two extremes, Spock had taken him out on the best date he’d ever had. The natural history museum, the Best of the Midwest, and Spock bussing his tray for him swam in his brain with the abandoned treehouse on Tarsus, the night they spent in the governor’s house, and Mr. Park’s boots emerging from behind his desk. But rather than Tarsus tainting his recollections of Starbase 27, the memory of their shared time leached away some of the pain of remembrance.

He had removed the boundary between them, and let Spock in. He had shown Spock what he had seen and done on Tarsus. Spock had held his hand, and held him close, and stayed the night. And through all that, their connection had not changed: not Spock’s surety, not their gentle banter and Spock’s quick wit, not how he looked for Spock first in any room he entered. For better and for worse did not come with caveats, he thought, and he opened his eyes.

He lifted his head to the semi-darkness, the red glare of his alarm clock, and Spock, already awake, turning his head to look down at him. His hair clung to the pillowcase as he moved. Kirk’s breath caught in his throat: the familiar angles of Spock’s face had been rendered unfamiliar by proximity, and all the more beautiful for it. Spock’s eyes shone liquid in the dim light, only the sharpest lines of him visible, the rest of him cast in shadow. The silence of the room was viscous in the air. 

Kirk knew that they weren’t done with Tarsus. But Tarsus could wait.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and his voice was still rough with sleep. “Can I have a do-over?” He pushed himself up further onto his elbow. Spock blinked at him, his arm adjusting to Kirk’s movement without relinquishing his grip. There were only inches between their faces, but Spock did not shift away.

“Of what, captain?” Kirk could feel the rumble of Spock’s voice in his chest through their contact.

“Two mornings ago,” Kirk said. He swallowed. “When you said…” Ashamed, despite Spock’s assurances, of how he had behaved, he pressed his palm down where it rested on Spock’s ribs and hoped that he would understand. He heard Spock exhale through his nose. Spock’s eyes searched his face, and Kirk held his gaze. He would let Spock see him. He was done hiding. 

“I have learned this week that you like when I touch you,” Spock said, quiet in the still of the morning. His hand was a solid pressure against Kirk’s hip, fingers flexing as he spoke. “I have learned that I do too.” 

“I do like it,” Kirk said, almost in a whisper. “At first I was afraid that you would realize how much I liked it, and I would make you uncomfortable. But then…” He lifted his hand and ran one gentle fingertip down the column of Spock’s neck, the exposed line of his collarbone. He was a little shocked at his own daring, but Spock did not flinch away. 

“After I understood my… sentiment towards you, and we crossed more lines, I was afraid that, if you learned what I had been hiding, that you would think less of me. This starship runs as it does because of how we work together.” The words were spilling out of him now, and he needed Spock to understand. “I couldn’t risk losing your trust, if you thought that I was unfit to lead. And I wanted to spare you from seeing what I had seen, if you ever wanted to...” Kirk gestured next to his head, along his psi-points. Spock’s hand came up and circled Kirk’s wrist, pulling it back to rest on his chest. 

“Captain,” Spock said. “Jim. Knowing how your experiences affect you changes nothing about my opinions on your actions, or my trust in your leadership.” He half-raised one eyebrow as he considered Kirk’s hand in his grasp. “You may find that I understand better than most what it is to feel, and feel deeply, and yet still act as though nothing is felt at all.” Kirk closed his eyes, pressing his hand down against Spock’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm.

“I thought that I was protecting you,” Kirk admitted. “I thought that by keeping the truth from you, I could prevent you from being hurt by it.” He flipped his hand around in Spock’s grip to take his hand in his, and opened his eyes. “And instead I hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”

“As I had surmised, captain, and it is forgiven,” Spock said. “But for future reference, I would prefer the truth, no matter how painful, to a comfortable lie.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and looked from their intertwined hands to Spock’s face. He couldn’t discern what Spock was thinking in the half-light; he could only admire the lines of his face, the deep color of his eyes and hair contrasted against Kirk’s pillow. 

When Spock spoke again, his voice was reserved. “Now that I know the truth, how would you like to proceed?” And there it was: his opening. Kirk shifted forward, putting more of his weight against Spock’s chest, bringing their faces closer together. Spock turned to look fully at him. 

“You want me to touch you?” Kirk pulled his hand out of Spock’s grasp to bring it up to his face, running his thumb reverently against Spock’s cheekbone, feeling the delicate architecture of his pointed ear under his fingers. Spock’s hand tightened over his waist, and he nodded. 

When he met Spock’s eyes, something warm and electric sparked between them. “I’ve been thinking about this for days,” Kirk breathed, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spock’s. No audience, no pressure of separation or performance, no secrets: the whole galaxy narrowed to him, and his first officer, and the years of history and trust between them. Their bodies pressed together from lips to chests to legs. Spock was deliciously warm. For a few seconds they lay unmoving, but Kirk remembered Spock’s hesitation during their first kiss, and he waited. 

Then Spock opened his mouth to Kirk, rolled towards him, and slid his hand beneath Kirk’s shirt. Kirk looped his arm over his shoulders and pulled Spock in closer, licking into his mouth. Spock’s hand roamed higher, pressing flat against his spine, fingertips digging into the muscle of his back. He pushed Kirk backwards as he braced himself on one arm, his tongue sliding into his mouth as his other hand came up to caress Kirk’s hair. He shivered as Spock’s thumb traced the curved edge of his ear. Kirk slid both hands under the hem of Spock’s sleep shirt, feeling the movement of his hips telegraphed through his spine, and the expanse of his back was warm. Kirk could feel the shifting of the muscles under his skin as he pressed Kirk down into the bed, and the weight of his thigh falling between Kirk’s lit a fire in his stomach. Kirk ground up against him and pulled Spock’s bottom lip between his teeth, and he heard Spock’s exhale catch in a groan in the back of his throat. God, he wanted to eat that sound. He wanted to hear it again immediately. He wanted to be the one to pull that noise out of Spock for the rest of both of their natural lives.

Next to the bed, his alarm clock blared. They both flinched. Kirk dropped his head down against the mattress, and Spock bowed his, pressing his forehead into Kirk’s shoulder with what might have been a sigh. Then he sat up, tapped the alarm off, and rolled back to face Kirk.

“Good morning,” Kirk said, and he grinned. Spock’s eyes softened. The shoulder of his shirt was slipping down, and his hair was mussed from its contact with the pillow and Kirk’s hands. He looked gentle, sleep-soft, lovely. 

“Good morning,” Spock said. He leaned back on one hand, looking down at Kirk where he still sprawled across the bed. “How are you?” 

“Better than last night, that’s certain,” Kirk said. He couldn’t get over the vision of Spock, sitting on his bed in his pajamas, lips gently swollen from kissing. His whole body buzzed. 

“I was concerned for you,” Spock said, and he studied Kirk. “And my concern remains. Captain, have you studied with any level of detail Starfleet’s official record of what occurred on Tarsus IV?” Well, he had hoped for more of a reprieve, but at least Spock let him sleep through the night and kiss him before he returned to the elephant in the room.

“No,” Kirk admitted. “I’ve avoided it entirely. My… Elise said it would only make things worse.”

“It remains highly redacted,” Spock said. “I was not able to use any of the privileged information in my regulation revision, as it would have nullified my efforts, but I had become curious. I acquired an unredacted version and read it.”

“Oh, you acquired one? Achieved that through entirely legal means too, I’m sure?” 

“It would have been illogical and unscientific to draw conclusions from incomplete information,” Spock said delicately. “But, regardless…” Then he hesitated, and Kirk pushed himself up. 

“I’m starting to think that my memories and the Starfleet record might have some inconsistencies,” Kirk said softly. 

“Inconsistencies is not the term I would use,” Spock said. His fingers clenched against the bed, crumpling the sheets, and he looked down.

“What would you call the difference, then?” Spock’s reticence was setting Kirk’s skin crawling. He crossed his legs so he could sit upright, and braced himself. 

“Treason,” Spock said softly. Kirk’s heart seized up. “You were the only witness to a crime against the Federation, but without the context necessary to understand it, and someone has exerted great effort to keep you from gaining that context.” 

“But there were other witnesses,” Kirk said. “There were five--- four other kids with me. At least one of them is in Starfleet now.” 

“I am not referring to the massacre, or the famine,” Spock said, and somehow his gaze grew heavier. “In your memories, you were alone when you saw the shuttle that took Kodos off of Tarsus IV.” 

“I was,” Kirk said. “I mean, he did terrible things, and he should have been brought to justice. But was all of this really just because I saw him escape?” There was something in Spock’s expression that made Kirk uneasy.

“Jim,” Spock said, and he wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist, and that more than anything solidified that something was wrong. “Kodos did not escape on his own. The individuals who took Kodos off-planet were not his guards.” 

“What do you mean?” Spock broke eye contact again, glancing briefly over his shoulder. Kirk’s palm grew cold and clammy. He felt his heartbeat tick up.

“I recognized their uniforms,” Spock said. “Kodos was extracted from Tarsus IV by operatives from Section 31.” 

White noise roared in Kirk’s ears. His vision blurred. “No,” he heard himself say, from very far away. Spock redoubled his grip on his wrist. It was his only anchor to the rest of the world. His awareness collapsed into a needle-thin tunnel, with only the vague bright dot of his quarters visible at the end of it. He thought Spock was saying something, but it was hard to hear him from all the way at the end of the tunnel and over the rushing in his ears. 

“Section 31 is a Starfleet office,” he said hollowly, when he could speak again. 

“Yes,” Spock said. 

“You’re saying that Starfleet pulled Kodos off Tarsus. And left us to die.” His preliminary shock was fading away. The crystal-clarity of the cold, unfeeling part of his brain slid down over him like a mask, and he let it take over with a vague sense of relief. 

“A branch of it, yes,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk closely. A detached part of Kirk wondered what Spock’s telepathy felt when he shut everything away like this.

“What else was missing or wrong from the report?” 

“The official cause for the crop failure and famine was a fungal infection--- Fusarium graminearum. But what you showed me did not look like Fusarium, and Fusarium typically grows in dampness and humidity, which is inconsistent with your memories of drought. That Kodos chose who would live and who would die in the massacre in the auditorium was known. But the causes of death for his chosen survivors were all listed as starvation or immolation, and some of the bodies that you saw in the town before the fire had not starved. And though it was not in the report, the medical treatment you experienced after your rescue did not follow standard protocol for starvation or malnutrition, nor the treatment for mycotoxicosis.”

“What do you mean?” Kirk extricated himself from Spock’s grip on his wrist, as gently as he could manage, and crossed to the closet. He needed something to do with himself; he could no longer sit still and absorb just how deeply things had been warped. He grabbed his trousers and tunic from the closet. 

“In your memories, you underwent dialysis as part of your treatment for an extensive duration,” Spock said, and he turned to watch Kirk. “Though it may have been necessary if you had ingested significant quantities of Fusarium and experienced alimentary toxic aleukia, neither the level of sustenance you were able to obtain on Tarsus nor the symptoms you demonstrated after rescue imply that this should have been the case.” 

“It sounds as though you have a hypothesis, Mr. Spock.” Kirk crossed back to the bathroom door, holding his uniform like a security blanket. 

“I do,” Spock allowed. “Is Doctor McCoy aware that you were on Tarsus IV?” 

“He is,” Kirk said. “Unfortunately. He has unredacted access to my medical records.” 

“Would you permit me to view them as well?” 

Kirk froze. “One second,” he said, and ducked into the bathroom as soon as the turbodoor slid open. It slid shut behind him, and he braced his hands on the counter. His medical records wouldn’t show Spock anything more graphic than he had already seen in Kirk’s memories. But his records included holos of himself immediately after, as well as the notes from both Dr. Johns and Elise about his behavior during recovery. He didn’t want Spock to have to see the evidence.

He bent down over the sink to wash his face, and the cold water helped to pull himself back into his body. Although his knee-jerk emotional response to Spock’s question had been a harsh and immediate ‘no,’ he could see the logic in the request. Because Spock had seen all his memories, he wouldn’t have to endure the panic and nausea that came with trying to actually talk about Tarsus. Though his relief at the idea made him feel somewhat like a coward, because Spock now knew as much as he did, Spock could be the one to answer Bones’s questions. Kirk pressed his hand to his chest and realized, as his numbness slowly melted away, that having a path forward--- seeking an answer to a question that wasn’t about his own misery--- gave him a momentum that kept him from drowning in panic. He wasn’t thrilled about the new information or about Spock seeing his records, but the anxiety was manageable. His head was above water. 

He pulled his uniform on, gave his hair a quick brush, and walked back into their quarters. Spock had also changed for the day in his absence, and stood at the bookshelves, adjusting something. When Kirk was halfway across the room, the object of Spock’s attention came into focus: he had unboxed the little crinoid machine and placed it delicately on an empty bit of shelf, next to a padd that Kirk thought he recognized as their wedding gift from Janice. Spock adjusted the tiny piece of machinery so gently in his large hands that Kirk’s heart skipped a beat, and seeing a gift he had given Spock next to their padd of holos made him feel distinctly domestic. It felt nice; a safe reprieve from the disturbing revelations of the morning.

“Are you moving in for good, Mr. Spock?” 

Spock spun, clasping his hands behind his back so quickly that the motion was a blur. He looked suddenly unsure of himself. “Captain, I---” 

“I think I would like it if you do,” Kirk said, and he came to stand next to the Vulcan, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “If that was something you wanted.” They both considered the undulation and writhing of the crinoid, the feathers flicking out into the air in a graceful, solitary dance.

“If you would have me, captain, I would like to stay.” 

“Good.” The answer settled his mind a little further. Kirk nodded decisively, and before he could lose his nerve, he said, “You can see my records, and then I need to hear your hypothesis.” Spock turned to look at him. “After we meet with the admirals. And I have a question for you first.” 

“Certainly, captain,” Spock said. 

“How did you recognize the uniforms?” 

Spock watched the movement of the crinoid for another few seconds before he said, “Have you ever heard the name Michael Burnham?” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “The mutineer? Of course. What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

“Did you know she was raised on Vulcan?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said slowly. “Did you… did you know her?” 

“She was my foster sister,” Spock said. Kirk’s mouth dropped open involuntarily.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not, captain,” Spock said. “I became unfortunately acquainted with Section 31 during one of her classified exploits.” 

Kirk gaped at him, mind reeling. He tried to reorient himself around this enormous piece of information. Spock had kept a Federation-sized secret from him for years, one that had Federation-wide repercussions, and likely had more, if he had been involved with any of Burnham’s other activities during her time on the Discovery. 

His first instinct was to be angry that Spock had kept this from him. But then something lighter, a little happier, a little truer, bubbled up from inside him. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was not the only person in the universe carrying ugly secrets. The reminder chipped away another piece of his mask, set him more firmly on his own two feet, in his body, on his ship. 

Spock watched him, shoulders pulled back tightly, hands clasped behind him. “Jim, I am sorry that I did not---” 

Kirk shoved him playfully sideways, and Spock, shocked, had the grace to pretend to be moved. “Don’t apologize. You keeping that secret makes us even. You were raised with Starfleet’s only mutineer?” 

“She was not a mutineer at the time,” Spock said, and the line of his shoulders loosened. “We ought to depart if we are to have breakfast before the start of alpha shift. The admirals will arrive in three point five hours.” 

“When it rains, it pours,” Kirk said, and smiled at the offended eyebrow raise that the expression earned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to see April have a meltdown in the ready room.”

“Do you intend to provoke him, captain?” They crossed to the door to the hallway, and as Kirk lifted his hand to open the door he suddenly remembered how he had felt yesterday morning, to enter the hallway and find no Spock waiting for him. It had only been twenty-four hours. Everything had changed. 

Instead of opening the door, he reached for Spock. He pulled him around in front of him, and pushed him backwards. His back hit the door with a gentle thud. 

“Maybe I do,” Kirk said, leaning forward into his space, and without hesitating Spock bent his head to meet him in a kiss. Spock’s arms came around him, pulling him tightly against him, as Kirk slid one hand behind his head to anchor them together. The feeling of Spock’s hair between his fingers, his hands against his back, his lips against his own--- he was never going to get used to it.

When they broke apart, Spock’s hair was in disarray, and Kirk smoothed it back down. “I do not recommend that we do that in front of the admiralty,” Spock said, but there was a flush high on his cheeks that betrayed his composure. 

“No?” Kirk made his voice as innocent as he could. “I thought that April could perhaps use a little more convincing.” 

“I am certain that the crew will vouch for the truth for us,” Spock said, before he gently smoothed the shoulders of Kirk’s tunic down. Kirk tapped the door pad and Spock stepped neatly backwards as the door opened. 

“I, for one, am curious to hear what they’ll share with April,” Kirk said. “I know about the hypotheses, and the betting pools, and the nurses’ log. Oh, and the Spock rule. But I bet there are others.”

“The human desire to turn everything into a competition or a gambling opportunity is fascinating, captain.” They walked down the hall, side by side, perfectly synchronized, and the cold that had seized him earlier released another piece of his heart. The back of Spock’s hand brushed his as they walked, and he leaned down to listen more closely when Kirk talked. Kirk let himself touch the small of Spock’s back for emphasis, and he couldn’t stop the comfortable warmth in his chest from shining out of his face. He grinned at his crew as they passed and saluted or smiled at him and Spock. When they saw him and Spock together, he knew they were just seeing an affectionate newlywed couple, fresh off of shore leave together. 

And wouldn’t you know it? For the first time since Kirk had proposed marriage, it was even true. 

☆☆☆

They entered the officers’ mess to find Bones and Uhura already eating breakfast. They both looked up as the doors slid open to admit them, and as they registered Kirk and Spock entering together, Kirk could see their pleased surprise. He lifted a hand in greeting, his own smile growing in response, before replicating breakfast and moving to join them. He had just sat down and set his plate on the table when he realized he’d forgotten coffee. “One second,” he said, and made to stand again, when a mug landed on the table in front of him, delivered by an elegant and long-fingered hand. 

He looked up as Spock sat next to him, setting his own plate and mug down. “Thank you,” he said, and Spock nodded before picking up his fork. Kirk looked across the table to see Uhura stifle a smile behind one hand and Bones roll his eyes before picking up a jam-soggy piece of toast. 

“How was your time on the starbase?” Uhura asked. 

“Wonderful,” Kirk said, at the same time that Spock said, “Adequate.” Bones snorted, but he had an evaluative look on his face, and his eyes were locked onto Kirk. With a slight wince, Kirk remembered the unfortunate context in which he had last seen him. He had the feeling he was going to owe Bones an emergency bottle of bourbon by the time the day was over.

“We saw a number of fascinating creatures that inhabit the planets of nearby systems,” Spock said, and Kirk dug into his breakfast as Uhura picked up the conversation. On his other side, he felt Bones nudge his calf with his shoe. Kirk looked at him. 

In the silent language of their long friendship, Bones asked with his eyebrows: You okay? 

A slight, begrudging frown and a short nod: Yes, actually. 

Narrowed eyes: Really? 

And then, before Kirk could stop himself, he glanced at Spock. Facing burning, he immediately forced his eyes back to the table. When he dared look back at Bones, he was trying and failing to suppress a told-you-so smile. 

“Cohabiting going well?” Bones asked innocently, and Kirk kicked him under the table.

☆☆☆

Kirk’s first full shift since the day of the wedding started off quietly. They orbited gently around Starbase 27, depositing old supplies that needed replacing and restocking on the things they wouldn’t be able to replicate as they headed deeper into unclaimed space. Only one requisition request took him by surprise: First Officer S’chn T’gai Spock requested additional unreplicated foodstuffs “to test the validity of the hypothesis of the potential forthcoming revision to Regulation 6245-B.” Warmth bloomed in his chest as he signed his approval and shipped it back to Janice for implementation. 

He looked around at his crew during one of the lulls: Chekov and Sulu arguing over the fastest way through a nearby asteroid belt that wouldn’t earn them an explosive decompression; Uhura sorting through messages, translating incoming intel and keeping an eye on local transmissions; Scotty and one of his engineers on their backs beneath a misbehaving console panel. Spock scanned through sensor readings, occasionally glancing out the viewscreen or back at Kirk, and his fingers twitched against his thighs in a way that Kirk recognized as boredom, though Spock would never admit to it. He stood up and stretched hugely before wandering up behind Spock, peering over his shoulder at the completely average readings. 

“Captain,” Spock said, and he sat back in his chair. His shoulder blades brushed Kirk’s stomach, and the back of his head leaned slightly against Kirk’s sternum. The position gave him deja vu to just a few days previously, when they had been in the same position, when Spock had been reading through the nurses’ report on their movements through Medbay.

Before Kirk allowed himself to think through whether or not it was wise, he rested his hands on Spock’s shoulders in front of him, his thumbs brushing the warm skin of his neck, just above the collar of his uniform. So quietly that Kirk almost missed it, Spock sighed through his nose, and he leaned further back against him, eyes closing in a slow blink. 

“Anything interesting going on out there?” 

“Clarify the parameters of ‘interesting,’ sir.” 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Kirk said, laughing, and he gave himself one more second to appreciate Spock leaning against him, the warmth under his hands, before he reminded himself that he was on duty and would have significant supervision for the next ten days. He was looking forward to having something to do, even if that something was ferrying around stuffy admirals like an oversized tourist ship. At least he would get to spend some time with Chris again. He owed the man at least one drink--- it had been his idea, after all, that had started everything.

An hour later, after Kirk had gotten to the bottom of his paperwork pile, his mind wandered to what Spock had told him that morning, worrying at the thought like he was pressing on a bruise. The unmarked black shuttle that haunted his dreams belonged to a branch of Starfleet. It was an esoteric, virtually invisible branch (one that was mostly mentioned as a scary story to threaten misbehaving ensigns with), but it was a subsection of the organization to which he had pledged his entire life. Why had Section 31 come to Tarsus, and only saved Kodos? 

They had seen him. He had killed one of them. One of them had seriously considered killing him in return. And yet they had disappeared with Kodos and left him alive on the cursed colony, assuming that he would starve to death; they must not have known that the Valiant was only a day behind. Lieutenant Commander Ashton Park’s message had been sent out on public relay for anyone to hear. Was there so little communication between Section 31 and the rest of Starfleet?

But that wasn’t the only unpleasant shock of the morning. Kirk had spent very little time reflecting on the months he spent in and out of hospitals; Dr. Johns had murmured soft words about his ‘ordeal’ and then explained virtually nothing about what was being done to him. But Spock thought that his treatment didn’t line up with what Starfleet said had happened. 

Kirk pulled out his padd and tried to force his hands to stop shaking. He had told Spock that he could see his records, and he would keep his word. Even if it physically hurt him to do it. He tapped on his message thread with Bones, and smiled wryly at their last, ironic exchange.

> TheRealMcCoy: have you talked to spock?

In a manner of speaking, he had. And bringing Spock into his confidences, against all of the instruction that Elise had drilled into him, had broken the pattern he had been stuck in and set him moving forward again. 

> JTK: hi 

> TheRealMcCoy: Hi yourself 

> JTK: I have a request

> TheRealMcCoy: What is it? 

> JTK: I need to see my medical records 

A pause.

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you sick? 

> JTK: No 

> JTK: I want Spock to see them

> TheRealMcCoy: See what, exactly?

> JTK: All of it

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you serious?

> JTK: As a heart attack

> TheRealMcCoy: Not funny 

Kirk could see Bones typing and then stopping, as if he were writing and rewriting his message. In the end, all he sent was: 

> TheRealMcCoy: Really?

> JTK: yes 

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s good

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s great

> TheRealMcCoy: Come by whenever

He couldn’t say he was looking forward to the conversation, or to showing Spock the awful holos of himself. But after years of Tarsus-related stagnation, having a question to answer and something to work towards felt good. It felt like healing. He glanced over at Spock, bending over his sensor, and could not stop himself from admiring the long lines of his body.

Scotty’s voice came over the comm. “Captain, stationmaster reports the admirals are ready to beam aboard.” 

“Thank you, Scotty,” Kirk said. “I’ll be down in just a moment. Kirk out.” He released the comm button and stood. “Spock, with me. Chris will want to see you first, and April too, probably. Sulu, you have the conn.” 

“Yes, captain,” Sulu said, standing to take his seat, and Kirk and Spock went down to the turbolift. “Transporter,” Spock said, and the doors closed between them and the bridge. 

They stood in silence for half a second before Kirk turned to Spock. He inhaled, but the daring glint in Spock’s eyes answered his question. He was across the turbolift and pressed against Spock in the space of a heartbeat. Even as his lips met Kirk’s, Spock twisted the handle that stopped the turbolift and wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him flush against him. Kirk brought his hands up to frame Spock’s face, feeling the silk of his hair and the points of his ears. Spock had lost his hesitation, and he licked possessively into Kirk’s mouth, and the warm wet heat of it drove him to distraction. He worried Spock’s lip between his teeth like he had before, and Spock’s response came from somewhere deep in his chest and went straight to Kirk’s groin. 

He summoned all of his willpower to pull his mouth from Spock’s before he lost all possibility of discretion. “We’ve got places to be,” he said, looking up at Spock. Spock’s gaze flicked down to his mouth before meeting his eyes, and he pressed his lips into a thin pink line before restarting the turbolift.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and Kirk grinned at the barely disguised disappointment in his tone as they descended further through the ship.

Scotty was waiting by the transporter console when they arrived, the flashing lights indicating that two were ready for transport. He was polite enough to ignore when they both straightened their tunics in guilty symmetry, smothering a knowing smirk.

“Energize when ready, Scotty,” Kirk said. 

“Energizing, captain.” 

Two golden pillars of light materialized on the transporter pad, shimmering and humming until they coalesced into two figures: Admiral April, tall and broad in his uniform, and Admiral Pike in his turbochair. Spock lifted the ta’al as Kirk strode forward to shake hands. April, unsmiling, shook his hand firmly, once, before stepping off the pad to approach Spock. Though Chris’s hands were encased in the body of the hoverchair, his upper torso was visible above the top, and his eyes twinkled merrily as Kirk squeezed his shoulder. 

“Admiral Pike,” Kirk said, and Chris’s voice--- familiar, realistic, just like he had remembered--- came from a speaker on the front of the chair. 

“You calling me admiral makes me feel like an old man,” he complained. 

Kirk grinned broadly. “You have your own voice again!” The last time he and Spock had seen Chris, he had still been in the early days of recovering from the accident, and his voice had still been the robotic standard of all vocal replacements. His skin had not yet healed then, either; now that it had scarred and settled, the ridged pattern of the radiation burns reminded Kirk of beaches and wind-blown sand dunes.

“It was a gift from Number One,” Chris said. “She and that scary lawyer friend of hers convinced the regulatory board to declassify my logs early so we could use them to train the voicebox. And she said talking so much would never be good for anything!” Kirk laughed, and Chris’s warm laughter came through the voicebox.

“Admiral Pike,” Spock said, stepping up to them, April trailing him with a deepening frown, eyes glancing between him and Kirk. 

“Not you too,” Chris said, and Spock raised his eyebrows at Kirk as if to say, What did you do? “It’s good to see you, Spock!” 

Spock walked next to Chris’s turbochair, his head bent down to listen, occasionally offering an observation that made Chris’s deep belly laugh ring out from his voicebox. With one tap to Spock’s shoulder as he passed, Kirk dropped back to walk next to April. The lights of the corridor glinted off the dark skin of his bald head, and the surety of his stride reminded Kirk that before the Enterprise had been his, or Pike’s, she had been April’s. 

“Your secret put me in a difficult position, Kirk,” April said. He rubbed one hand over his beard as he considered Kirk, and his dark eyes were shrewd. 

“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Kirk said, though he wasn’t. “We had decided long ago that discretion was the best option. We didn’t mean to cause any inconvenience.”

“He should be leading that science vessel and you know it.” So they were going to argue about where Spock should spend his career, not whether or not they were married. Kirk couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Maybe, but he didn’t want it. The crew of a ship takes their cues from their captain, and having a captain who doesn’t want to be there is a surefire way to ruin a mission.” 

They took the turbolift in pained silence, and as Chris and Spock led the way down the hallway April continued quietly to Kirk, “He would have gotten used to it. It would have been good for him. By the time he retires, he’ll have been a first officer for, what? Forty years? Sixty? And he could be so much more.” April’s tone, his insinuations, set Kirk’s teeth on edge, and anger spiked in his stomach. 

“With all due respect, Admiral, I care more about what he wants than what you think is good for him.” 

“Right,” April said. “Because you are his husband.” There it was. Ahead of them, Kirk saw Spock’s head turn slightly--- that Vulcan hearing didn’t miss anything. 

“I am,” Kirk said, and claiming that title aloud made something glow inside him, even as he noted April’s unreadable glance at him. “The ready room, gentlemen.” He tapped the door open and stood back to let the admirals enter before gesturing Spock in as well. Spock passed so closely by him that he could feel the heat of him, and Spock’s quick darting glance at him confirmed that he knew what he was doing. Kirk pressed his lips together to suppress a smile and shut the door behind them. When he looked up at the officers around his conference table, April’s acute focus was on Spock, and there was that same unreadable expression on his face. Kirk had expected frustration, or indignation at Spock’s decision; he had not expected this somber consideration.

“We await your orders, sir,” he said, to break the silence, and April cleared his throat. 

“We’ll need to stay in orbit around SB27 for three more days,” April said. “I need access to the high-speed relay to send a few reports. Then we’ll depart for Kindinos VI, because they’ve been radio-silent for a few weeks. I don’t think anything has gone wrong, necessarily, but the dilithium mine there is an important resource and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Then, assuming they’re fine and don’t need more assistance, we will drop in on any other colonies out that way that need a wellness check, and then rendezvous with the U.S.S. Maddox in twelve days.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said, but the name of the ship they were meeting unsettled him. He knew he had heard of the ship before, but he couldn’t remember the context at the moment. Spock’s eyes met his, and he knew that Spock had recognized the name as well. 

Kirk pulled a datapadd off the charging port on the table and tapped it open, and started working through the logistics of April’s orders. For the better part of two hours they arranged travel, lodging, fueling, and the rendezvous, until Chris let out the sound of a huge fake yawn. Spock raised one eyebrow at him.

“As fun as this is, I would love to see how the rest of the ship has changed since my time, if you can be spared for a tour.” 

Kirk grinned and pushed his chair back. “Our day is yours, Admiral,” he said, and they departed to the dulcet tones of Chris grumbling about his promotion again. 

☆☆☆

Spock led them deeper into the ship and halted at a closed lab door.

“One of the scientists has been analyzing patterns of decay in shield panels at warp speed. Would you like to see her research?” 

“Hell yeah,” Pike said, and though his face did not move, curiosity shone in his eyes. Spock opened the lab door, revealing Dr. Khan and a bank of computers. She turned as the door opened, standing up out of her chair as she saw the guests. 

“Admiral April, Admiral Pike, this is Dr. Priyal Khan.”

“Admirals. Captain. Mr. Spock,” she said, looking at them in turn. “I was just applying historical data to the most recent iteration of my algorithm. Would you care to see?” April, whether out of politeness or to get away from Kirk to save his last nerve, stepped forward to listen. 

“How’s married life?” Chris asked quietly, and Kirk marveled at the control that the new voicebox allowed him.

“It’s good. It’s really good,” Kirk said. He crouched down next to Chris’s chair so he could lower his voice. “We owe you big-time.” 

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chris said, and his eyes flicked to Spock before meeting Kirk’s again. “But you should know that April is still hesitant about all this.” 

“I had noticed,” Spock said. “I do not think, however, that…” Then his head snapped towards April, where he stood talking to Dr. Khan. Chris and Kirk both turned to listen in as well. 

“We were aware, sir,” she said. She stuck one hand in the pocket of her lab coat and pushed her glasses up her nose with the others. “It was hard not to be. The captain started showing up down here about six weeks in, and then he never left.” 

April asked something so quietly that Kirk couldn’t hear it, but he heard Dr. Khan’s derisive snort. “No, sir. Quite the opposite. It was…” Then she stopped and turned abruptly to the eavesdroppers. “If I’m going to give an unbiased review of my supervisor, he and his hearing need to leave.” 

Spock straightened, affronted, as Kirk smothered a smile and turned for the door. 

“There’s no need for that,” April said, and he shook Dr. Khan’s hand. “I appreciate your candor.” 

“Anytime,” she said, and she turned her back on him to resume her work. Spock, hands behind his back, led them deeper into the labs, pointing out various changes and experiments to Chris. Kirk walked alongside Spock, watching him work, and seeing the furrows in April’s brow get deeper and deeper as he watched them in kind.

Spock led them through more of the labs, where April asked each of Spock’s scientists the same questions he had asked Dr. Khan. Had they been aware that the captain and the commander were in a relationship? Had that relationship caused any distraction or any other problems while Kirk had been in command? 

Kirk had learned, first from Uhura and then from the general response to the wedding, that a significant faction of the crew had believed that he and Spock were either already in a relationship or were going to be in one shortly. This knowledge did nothing to blunt the shock of hearing over and over again: 

“Yeah, we knew.” 

“It was the ship’s worst-kept secret.” 

“No captain spends that much time in the labs unless they’ve got a reason to be there. A good reason.” 

One biologist whispered “sorry!” in Spock’s direction before she said to April, “We all noticed when they started spending more time together because there was a shift in Mr. Spock’s management style.” Chris, who had started out laughing at each answer before he fell into a thoughtful silence, rotated his entire chair to stare Spock down after that one. 

And to the second question: 

“No.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Not at all.” 

“I think it was good for both of them. And good for us.”

From labs, to engineering, to Giotto’s office, to the bridge, the response was the same: the crew had known. It had made both of them better, and it made the crew better. As they walked through the ship, Spock brushed his fingers against Kirk’s wrist, placing his hand on his lower back as he passed, and Kirk took every opportunity he could to bump their shoulders together. When he had envisioned April’s arrival on their ship, he had thought that they would be performing as a couple. He had never thought that he would be reaching out to touch Spock because he wanted to. April watched them move around each other, and interrogated the crew, and with each testimony about their long-standing and poorly disguised relationship his expression passed from solemn to downright defeated.

As the ship’s clock counted down the minutes to the end of alpha shift, Kirk and Spock walked April and Pike to the guest quarters. 

“Thank you for the tour, captain. Commander. Good night,” April said abruptly. He glanced between Kirk and Spock, seemingly measuring the distance between them, before vanishing into one of the quarters. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the three other men in shocked silence. Kirk glanced down at Chris for an explanation, but Chris just lifted one shoulder stiffly in the universal gesture of “hell if I know.” Spock broke the tension.

“Captain, we are due in the gymnasium soon for another suus mahna lesson shortly. Admiral Pike, would you care to join us?” 

“If you call me admiral one more time, Spock, I’ll run you over with this chair. See if I won’t.” But he joined them in the turbolift and met them in the gym after they had changed, and they found Giotto and Spock’s little class of six waiting for them. Kirk sat on the bench on the outskirts of the room next to Chris while Spock warmed up the attendees and started drilling them. They must have been practicing with each other in between lessons, Kirk thought, because their movements were less jerky and unsure than they had been before. One and Two moved in eerie symmetry, Crovath and Laila following behind, but they progressed more quickly through the beginning moves and moved onto more advanced combinations shortly.

Kirk chatted quietly with Chris, getting updates on old shipmates, on Number One, and on Chris’s life since the accident, until Spock paused and turned, looking over his shoulder for Kirk. “I think this is my cue,” he said to Chris, and joined Spock on the mat. 

“I will demonstrate how you can use your opponent’s momentum against them, which is useful when you stand against one either larger or with a longer reach than you.” 

Kirk put his hands on his hips. “Neither of those things are true here,” he pointed out, and Spock sighed quietly through his nose. 

“Please participate regardless for the purpose of the demonstration, captain,” Spock said. 

“Yes, dear,” Kirk said, and the watching security officers grinned. Spock cocked his head, eyes alight, and he shifted forward into a waiting, predatory stance. Kirk shook his arms out, suddenly wishing he had warmed up instead of chatting with Chris. But it was too late for that now. He bounced a couple of times, Spock’s eyes tracking his movement, before swinging cautiously at Spock. 

Spock batted his hands away like he was offended by the effort, but something was different. Kirk lashed out again, aiming for his ribs, stepping forward with the motion, and Spock directed his arm off to the side, sending him wide, clearing room for Spock to step around him neatly. Kirk spun to protect his back, his skin tingling pleasantly. He dodged to the side to attack again, and time slowed as his mind woke up and got out of his way. 

When they had fought before, Spock had blocked him with the tightest economy of movement; he would tap Kirk’s limbs out of the way with short, sure bursts of contact from the blade of his hand or a closed fist. But now he blocked Kirk’s moves with an open palm. He wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist to redirect him, and dragged his fingertips along his forearm when he parried Kirk’s lazy opening swings. 

It was a soft, almost unnoticeable change, and distractingly erotic. Kirk stepped into Spock’s space, removing the advantage of his superior reach, but Spock circled him, the active heat of him radiating against Kirk’s back, and he fought a shiver. They circled each other, Spock pushing him to move faster, his hands warm against Kirk’s shoulder, elbow, wrist, hips as he forced Kirk off balance. The places where his palms had been felt warm long after the contact had ended. They traded blows. Kirk pushed Spock backwards, but Spock circled him again, forcing him into another tight spin. 

He twisted over his shoulder to keep his eyes on Spock, and Spock moved. He planted one foot behind Kirk, in the middle of his stance, pushed him neatly backwards with one long hand against his sternum, and sent him crashing to the floor.

Or, he would have crashed to the floor, if Spock hadn’t lunged over him and caught him with one arm behind his back, inches from the mat. The air wheezed from Kirk’s lungs as Spock straightened back upright, pulling Kirk up with him. 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Spock said, and bowed slightly to him. 

“Anytime,” Kirk wheezed, and clapped Spock on the shoulder. Winded, humbled, and buzzing from the overload of physical contact, he returned to his seat next to Chris as he lifted his water bottle to his mouth. Chris’s eyes remained fixed on Spock until he returned his attention to the security students, and then he rotated his chair to face Kirk directly.

“Jim,” Chris said quietly. “I didn’t know. When I suggested the regs, I didn’t…” He trailed off, uncertain. 

“There was nothing to know then,” Kirk murmured back. He watched the grace of Spock’s movements distractedly before meeting Chris’s eyes again. “But since then...”

“This morning, I thought: wow. These two are better actors than I ever could have guessed. But after the rest of today, the way he touches you--- I’ve known him a long time, Jim, and this is a side of him that I have never seen before.” 

Something pleased and possessive lit up in him. “It’s new,” he admitted. “We haven’t really talked about it yet. But I think we might owe you a very nice case of pretty much whatever you want.” 

“Ask Una what she wants,” Chris said. “Most things taste the same to me now.”

“Damn you,” groaned Kirk. “She always had more expensive opinions.” But he leaned his shoulder over to bump Chris’s, and they watched Spock work in companionable silence until he dismissed the students and Giotto with a bow and joined them.

“Hand to hand,” Chris said approvingly. “It’s a useful skill, and not one enough people have a mastery of. Your idea?” 

“Giotto’s, actually,” Kirk said, and they changed back into their uniforms and made their way to the guest quarters. 

“These bones need a rest, and I’ve got more work to do anyway,” Chris said, and the ridges of his scars shone beneath the hallway lights. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow. Try not to get into any more trouble, will you?” 

“I make no promises,” Kirk said, and with a fond scoff Chris vanished into his room. His departure left them alone in the hallway, facing each other, Spock’s hands clasped loosely behind his back. 

“I told Bones we would come by,” Kirk said.

“Then we should not keep the doctor waiting,” Spock said, and they turned for the turbolift. “Do you require dinner first?” Kirk shook his head. 

“After,” he said, and though they walked in silence through the quiet hallways, Spock brushed his hand gently with his.

☆☆☆

Sickbay was quiet and dim when they arrived, the lights lowered for the comfort of the patients that were there overnight. There were not many; with no recent dangerous away missions, most of Sickbay’s work was routine, scheduled health maintenance for the people who lived on the ship. Chapel sat at a computer, tapping her chin with one finger as she scanned something on the screen. She looked up at their entrance and smiled. 

“What can I do for you, sir? Mr. Spock?” 

“Just here to see Bones, Christine. At ease.” 

She nodded at Bones’s office door as they passed, and they lost her attention to her work soon after that. Kirk knocked once on the door, and from within the gruff Southern voice said, “Come on in.” 

Kirk opened the door and stepped through, Spock at his shoulder like a shadow. Bones sat at his desk, steaming mug of some tea at hand, illuminated by the dim light of the console. 

“Hey there, Bones,” Kirk said, and tried unsuccessfully to keep his brain from replaying their argument from the last time he had been in this room.

“Welcome back, Jimmy,” Bones said, and the tenor of his voice was gentle enough that Kirk knew that he had been forgiven. “I’m given to understand that you want to see your records.” 

Though his hands were still clasped behind his back, Spock’s shoulder pressed into Kirk’s from behind, solid, warm, and comforting. Kirk straightened his spine and nodded.

“I’ve been looking over them since we talked the other day,” Bones said, and he stood to come closer, sitting himself halfway onto his desk. “About security officers.” He glanced at Spock before looking back at Kirk, shrewd blue eyes measuring their proximity. “Can I speak freely, Jim?” 

“Please,” Kirk said. “He, ah. He knows everything.” 

“He does?” Bones raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, considering Spock with his head tilted. “Would you mind terribly elaborating on just what you mean by everything?” 

“I showed him,” Kirk said, and those eyes turned back to him. “Last night. After we got back from the starbase. I asked for his help with finding out more about that officer, and from there…” He blinked as his body recalled the panic, the nausea, the stoppage of his throat, and behind his back Spock’s hand came up to press comfortingly against his spine. He cleared his throat. “Talking about it doesn’t work for me, I’m afraid. So…” He looked at Spock, who looked steadily at Bones. 

“The captain allowed me to perform a mindmeld between us so that I might witness his experiences without his having to discuss them.” 

Bones looked between them, calculating, before he cleared his throat. “How do you feel, Jimmy?” 

“Better,” Kirk said immediately, surprised at his own sureness, and Bones nodded, and Kirk saw the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He gestured back to his console. 

“I read back through the reports of your treatment after the Valiant showed up,” Bones said. “There are about a million entries. The CMO from the Valiant had some interesting things to say, but after that? A whole lot of nothing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that the reports are bullshit--- your temperature, height and weight, blood panels, notes on your mood, but in every one it says that testing was performed and results analyzed. But the tests are never named, and the results never discussed.” Bones quirked his mouth to one side and tapped his shoe against his desk. “There’s also something a little odd. There’s a misspelling in every single entry after your Dr. Johns took over, and always the same five or six words. There was one in your blood tests too. I’ll be damned if I could find a pattern, but I was actually hoping that one of you boys could work some computer magic and make it spit out more information.” 

“Understanding software architecture is not magic, doctor---”

“You know damn well what I meant, what with being a computer yourself---”

Kirk grinned broadly as his two favorite people in the universe bitched at each other, and when Bones turned to him with a this is the man you married? face, he nodded. Bones stepped back to his console before turning to meet Spock’s eyes. When he spoke, it was for Spock only. 

“Jim wants you to see everything, so you’ll see everything. But I’ll tell you now, Spock, it’s heavy stuff.” Bones crossed his arms and stared Spock down, and his unsaid words hung between them: so if you can’t handle that, then get out now. 

Spock held Bones’s gaze unflinchingly as he said evenly, “I can assure you, doctor, that my strength is more than equal to its weight.” Spock’s statement hung in the air, the two men holding the other’s gaze, until Bones nodded decisively and stepped aside, allowing Spock entry. Spock pressed his hand once more against Kirk’s back before dropping it and following Bones to his computer.

Bones claimed his desk chair and Kirk and Spock hovered over his shoulders as he pulled up Kirk’s medical file.

“Kirk, James Tiberius,” Bones drawled. “Born on Earth, outrageously young to be a captain, aptitude test scores too high to be good for anyone. Yadda yadda yadda.” He scrolled down past Kirk’s current medical standing and, with only one second’s hesitation, clicked on something. A subfile opened, and the bolded heading at the top read “SURVIVOR RECORD, TARSUS IV - MINOR.” 

“Ready, Jim?” Bones’s voice was quiet. Kirk nodded, but turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the desk. He knew that the first thing in the file would be the set of holos that the staff of the Valiant had taken. Some things didn’t need to be re-witnessed. He felt the comforting weight, muscle, fat, and bone of his healthy body under his hands and kept the console screen out of his field of vision. 

The console controller clicked gently as Bones scrolled. Spock leaned over his shoulder, one hand planted on Bones’s desk, the other on the back of Bones’s chair, peering intently at the screen. The blue-white light of the console washed out his features, leaving only his dark eyes. Spock absorbed the information in silence as Bones scrolled on, from the pictures of Jimmy’s emaciation to the results of the barrage of tests that the Valiant had done, to his return to Earth, and then to the period of time he spent under Dr. Johns’s care. 

“Enough,” Spock eventually said, his voice gravelly. He straightened, gaze fixed on the screen, before he broke away from it to look at Kirk. He clasped his hands together before immediately releasing them. He took two quick steps towards Kirk and compulsively ran his hand from Kirk’s neck, over his shoulder, and down his arm before he clasped his hands behind him. The path that his hand had taken burned pleasantly. “The records from Dr. Johns do not reflect the reality of Jim’s treatment. And while it seems as though the Valiant was treating the children--- or at least the captain--- for mycotoxicosis as well as the burns and starvation, I do not believe that the survivors were able to ingest enough of what killed the harvest to have suffered the effects of it.” 

“The official cause of the famine was Fusarium graminearum,” Bones said. “If ingested through consumption of post-corruption, pre-rot food, it could---” 

“Tarsus was in drought, doctor,” Spock said quietly, and Bones rocked back in his chair. “And there was no carrier stage in whatever killed the plants. It was rapid.” He paused, and cocked his head. “And blue. I also believe that you ought to know that Johns was not only testing Jim on a weekly basis, but sending him for dialysis.” 

“Hemodialysis? Weekly? For a teenager without any symptoms of kidney failure?” Bones looked at Kirk, eyebrows pulling together. “Jim, is that right?” Kirk nodded once. 

“And what exactly do you mean, that it was blue?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk, and Kirk nodded again. Spock said, “His school had been growing crops before the famine. He witnessed them as they decayed, and it was unlike any fungal infection I have ever seen. The resultant matter was a metallic blue.” 

Bones worried his lip between his teeth, frowning at the records on the screen. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. So we know that the records have been falsified, and the psychologist was a security officer. Based on what Jim’s said, I would guess that her role was to keep him from sharing anything about Tarsus. But what in the devil does that mean?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk with a question on his face, and Kirk nodded again, closing his eyes. He heard Spock shift, and one long, familiar hand wrapped around his wrist, a loose cuff that anchored him more firmly into his skin. He opened his eyes and covered Spock’s hand with his own. 

“One more datum, doctor, that I believe is central to your question. Something that I was only able to learn because Jim showed me what he saw, rather than expressing it verbally. Jim was the only witness to Section 31’s extraction of Kodos from Tarsus.”

“You were the only witness to what.” Bones’s voice went flat. He stood up, his chair scraping back against the floor, hands flat on the desk. Kirk met his eyes, grinned crookedly, and shrugged. 

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he said wryly, and Bones’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know if I should be even more impressed that you survived or just angry that you had to survive this at all, Jim.” 

“I recommend both, doctor,” Spock said, and Kirk and Bones both turned to him in surprise. “Tomorrow, perhaps, after the Alpha shift, I would like to study Jim’s records more closely and cross-reference them both with his memories and Kevin Riley’s records, with his permission. The misspellings you mentioned may be a code, or a way to hide information.”

Bones looked to Kirk for his assent, and Kirk nodded. He said, “You said you had a hypothesis, Spock. Care to share it now?” 

Spock straightened, and with one more squeeze of Kirk’s wrist he released it to cross his arms across his chest. “My previous interactions with Section 31 have always been in relation to Starfleet research and development. While that is not all that they do, I believe it to be a significant aspect of their role.” He took a deep breath and glanced between Kirk and Bones. 

“I believe that there was some sort of biological experiment occurring on Tarsus IV. Based on your memories, I hypothesize that it escaped containment during development and contaminated the water supply, infecting both crops and settlers. Section 31 arrived after receiving Lieutenant Commander Parks’s message in order to protect the research investment and salvage any remaining data from the experiment. Finding Kodos alive was almost certainly an accident, but the knowledge he held made him a valuable resource. You and the other survivors required experimental medical care from doctors affiliated with Section 31 so that no one else learned of the true nature of the infection.” 

Spock’s voice was almost apologetic as he said, “Section 31 may have exerted such effort to keep you silent and isolated in order to hide the fact that it saved Kodos after the genocide, an action that would have opened them to investigation and prosecution if discovered. If you never identified the shuttle, and never told anyone that you had seen Kodos leave the planet, then they could allow you to live.”

“Holy shit,” Bones said, sinking down to sit on his desk. “Holy shit.”

Kirk bent over. He planted his hands on his thighs and hung his head. He stared at his black work boots and his uniform trousers and the familiar tiled floor of Medbay. So many details, so many secrets, and all of it hiding the truth. So many moving pieces, so much specialized knowledge, had to align for him to hold this information in his head, in his hands. Elise had weaponized his love for his crew, his sense of duty, against himself to cover up a Starfleet failure of the highest order. 

Kirk gave himself five breaths to pull himself together. On the first three, he felt nothing. On four, he connected his mind back to his body. On five, he stood up straight and planted his fists on his waist. His best friend paced across his office, arms crossed severely over his chest, blue eyes filled with worry. His husband, whose beautiful mind had picked through all the broken shards of information and given him the shape of the whole, stood across from him. And though he felt like he was full of wounds, he was still on his own two feet. 

“Jim?” Bones’s voice was gentle, and he realized they were both looking at him. His heart thundered in his chest, and it was a painful, welcome reminder that he was alive. 

“Do you want God’s honest truth, Bones?” 

“Sure, Jim,” Bones said cautiously.

“I’m almost glad.” Spock’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “After all this time, all these years…” Kirk inhaled again until his lungs stretched uncomfortably, and it was beautiful to him. “It feels better to know that it might mean something.” 

“How do you mean?” Bones watched him carefully.

“I do believe in luck,” Jimmy Kirk said. “I believe in miracles. And for years I’ve been unable to reconcile those beliefs with what happened on the colony. That I was there, and that it happened at all. I couldn’t rationalize it to myself. But now…” He paused, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He had seen and survived horrible things, and now he had the chance to make it matter. Despite everything, a smile grew across his face. “I saw what I saw. I survived what I survived. And now I have the chance to make sure Elise and Kodos, and all of Section 31 if I have to, are brought to justice. I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life. Because I’m still alive, I can do this for everyone who died on the colony. For the kids that I protected.” He swallowed thickly, his throat dry, and looked at his friends. “And for me.” 

Without hesitation Bones crossed back towards him in three huge steps, face hard, and threw his arms around Kirk. “Jesus, Jim,” he said. “You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that, right?” 

Kirk hugged him back. “Probably. But at least it won’t be today.” Bones released him and stepped back, turning back to his console to look at something on the screen. Spock reached across to him again, running his hand from Kirk’s neck down his arm and back up again, before coming to stand next to him. Their shoulders pressed together, and Kirk leaned against him. Spock adjusted himself, pulling Kirk to rest against his chest, his hand coming to circle Kirk’s waist and secure him against him.

Bones shut down his console and turned to Spock. “Tomorrow, when you go through the records, I’d like to be there. I need to know what they did.”

“Certainly, doctor. I propose that we---” 

The wall unit buzzed three times, and all three of them turned to look at it. It buzzed once more before an officer said, “Captain to the bridge. Captain Kirk to the bridge, please.” 

“What the hell?” Bones asked, turning to him. Kirk frowned and shrugged, but he brushed his tunic down and straightened himself up. 

“Thank you, Bones,” he said. “For everything.” Bones nodded at him. “Spock, with me.” 

☆☆☆

He and Spock arrived on the bridge to a hushed and nervous crew. The beta shift comms officer, one Lieutenant Ortiz, looked to Kirk as soon as he stepped out of the transporter. 

“We got an emergency message over subspace, captain. From outside of Federation space,” Ortiz said. 

“Put it on the main viewer, please,” he said, and Ortiz tapped her console. The viewscreen flashed. Then the video message opened. For a few seconds, there was only static, cresting and falling in volume like a wave. There was a shrill, piercing sound that might have been a scream, and the booming echo of an explosion. Then the picture resolved into something recognizable.

“Please,” a haggard face begged. Both his voice and the camera were shaking. “This is Overman Dima Marcus, of Kindinos IV. If there’s anyone out there---” There was another explosion, and the image juddered. “If anyone gets this message, please. Help us.” 

#spirk #spirk fan fiction #k/s #k/s fan fiction #fake married #regulatory relations #tos fan fiction #my writing

[bracketsoffear]

Grey Noise (Marcus Hawke) "Evan is just trying to get his store, REWIND VIDEO, up and running. Fate, unfortunately, often has other plans. Then he finds something that would be the perfect touch, an old vacuum tube TV. One that keeps turning to static. And it too has other plans.

It follows you.

Drives you.

It’s already inside you.

Lose yourself in…GREY NOISE."

Sacré Bleu: A Comedy d’Art (Christopher Moore) "The story surrounds the mysterious suicide of Vincent van Gogh, who famously shot himself in a French wheat field only to walk a mile to a doctor’s house. The mystery, which is slowly but cleverly revealed through the course of the book, is blue: specifically the exclusive ultramarine pigment that accents pictures created by the likes of Michelangelo and van Gogh. To find the origin of the hue, Moore brings on Lucien Lessard, a baker, aspiring artist and lover of Juliette, the brunette beauty who breaks his heart. After van Gogh’s death, Lucien joins up with the diminutive force of nature Henri Toulouse-Lautrec to track down the inspiration behind the Sacré Bleu. In the shadows, lurking for centuries, is a perverse paint dealer dubbed The Colorman, who tempts the world’s great artists with his unique hues and a mysterious female companion who brings revelation—and often syphilis (it is Moore, after all). Into the palette, Moore throws a dizzying array of characters, all expertly portrayed, from the oft-drunk “little gentleman” to a host of artists including Édouard Manet, Paul Gauguin, Georges Seurat, Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro and Pierre-Auguste Renoir."

#spiral poll #the spiral #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #Grey Noise #Marcus Hawke #Sacré Bleu: A Comedy d’Art #Christopher Moore

[silverskye13]

This is going to be random so you can ignore me if you want lol but do you have any book recommendations? I want to know where the rawness of your writing comes from,,,, it's just idk you write their voices perfectly and describe feelings better than I can feel them, I'm honestly intrigued who are your references tbh lmao

Oh noooo an excuse to talk about my favorite books! I will try really really hard to stay on topic and not gush too much. I've also got a few just, general tips for getting better at description I'll throw under the cut as well, since description and voice are things I'm actively practicing and I've found some things that helped me.

Kings of the Wyld by Nicholas Eames

[CW: Violence, gore, cursing, sexual themes, stereotypical high fantasy racism]

High fantasy novel about a band of heroes called Saga who used to be really cool - about 30 years ago. Now they're old and a bit washed up, and Clay Cooper is honestly pretty happy to be that way, until his old band leader Golden Gabe shows up on his doorstep saying his daughter is in danger and begging for help.

Nicholas Eames is honestly my biggest inspiration. He's stellar at description, and using tropes and stereotypes to his advantage. His books also have an incredible sense of humor. One thing he's really good at is phrases like "The wheat was golden as the Spring Maiden's hair," which is description informative of the world [The wheat field is gold and ready to harvest which gives us the time of year, there is a goddess named the Spring Maiden who is a major deity in this area, she is known for her blonde hair. These are three things we now know about the world that inform us about the setting that he never has to state outright].

Bloody Rose by Nicholas Eames

[CW: Violence, gore, sex and general debauchery you'd associate with a rock band going on tour, cursing, stereotypical fantasy racism]

Bloody Rose is Golden Gabe's daughter, the best fighter to have ever lived -- and she has a death wish. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she also needs a bard to chronicle her band's exploits. Thus our main character gets to enter the plot.

I'm gonna be honest, as far as characters go, I didn't like this one as much as Kings of the Wyld, but it's still got his stellar description, works on some of the themes in the first book I thought needed elaboration, and is also very, very gay [MC is a lesbian and flustered surrounded by so many hot women, send help]. This book is very much a character study on how flawed a person can be and still be considered a hero. Also addresses the issue of "Is enslaving sentient monsters to fight in coliseums morally wrong?" that KotW posed but never really answered.

The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher

[CW: horror, some swearing, descriptions of skeletal remains]

Hi I'm a horror nut at heart. The Twisted Ones is a... Hmm... I wouldn't call it cosmic horror per say, but it's definitely got some existential fae-style horror going on. Our protagonist has to go clean out her grandmother's house when she passes away, and learns there's something... Wrong... With the property. There are creatures in the woods, and an insidious thing they're guarding. Thankfully she has a dog to keep her company. [And I'll tell you now, the dog doesn't die, so put that particular fear at ease]. T. Kingfisher also writes fantasy but I've only read her horror. I need to read more of her stuff.

I don't have any descriptions from this book written down [I read it before I made my descriptions doc] but one from The Hollow Places I really liked was "We were standing on the skin of a soap bubble," to talk about how the two characters would snap and go insane if they talked about or thought about their situation any more. Kingfisher is really, really good at writing tension.

The Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buelman

[CW: Violence and gore, a lot of innuendos, a lot of calling out certain body parts as swears and insults. This is definitely a more mature read. Also implied sexual assault and cannibalism. This is pretty grimdark for fantasy.]

Not actually one of my favorite books but it had some really good stuff going for it so it makes the list. The Blacktongue Thief is about a thief who tries to rob the wrong woman, and ends up joining her on a mission to save a lost princess. They get caught up in a pretty big conspiracy in the process.

If you want a really good example of description as character voice, this is it. Kinch Na Shannuck is our POV character and his voice is in every description of every person and place. Unfortunately, he also speaks in euphemisms often, and his brain is constantly in the toilet, so for me that voice got grating. Still, you always knew who was telling you about what was going on [and at turns he would actually speak to the audience, which was neat]. Had such prize phrases as "She leaned casually against the counter, like she wasn't aware she was a threat made flesh."

Also there was some really cool worldbuilding in this one? A world where goblin wars have wiped out most of the men and made heroes of most women? How every man Kinch's age is a draft dodger specifically for those reasons? A disease that wiped out all the horses, and how that's actually a pretty major plot point? Also tattoo magic?? Really, really cool tattoo magic.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

I just love this book tbh. It also has good description, really good at talking about haunting loneliness, really relatable main character. But also it's just a comfort read for me. I love it. It's beautiful. I have a running vendetta against authors who've tried to rewrite it "but better" only to churn out filth instead. There’s a longer rant here about how horror treats queer people and women that I’ll keep to myself for now but I could write a 10pg thesis on it. Suffice it to say I’ve yet to find a book that does haunted house horror better than Shirley Jackson, as far as addressing complex topics through haunted houses goes. This is also one of the few books I’d say had a really good TV show adaptation? The Haunting of Hill House TV series on Netflix was really, really good at addressing the sense of terminal loneliness Shirley Jackson was discussing in her original book while also almost completely changing the source material. It’s a good adaptation, just don’t go into it thinking it’s the book. It’s really it’s own story with borrowed names.

--

There’s many many  more but I’ll end the list here. These are at least the most recent books I’ve read that I’ve really picked apart and studied for what I like about description in them. Honorable mentions are The Lord of the Rings, The Child of the Dark Prophesy / The Great Tree of Avalon Trilogy, anything Darcey Coates has ever written, The Ranger’s Apprentice Series, Frank Peretti’s YA books.... I read a lot. I’ve gone through stints of reading so much in the past I didn’t realize a book I’d picked up was one I’d read before until I was a few chapters in and recognized the familiarity.

--

Personal tips on writing description

Start a description document. Seriously this has helped me a ton. It’s a writing tip I’ve heard repeated several places and only recently started doing, but it’s helped immensely. It forces you to catalogue what you like about description and gives you a continued reference for what good description is, so you’re not necessarily trying to describe something from whole-cloth every time. If you own books and don’t mind marking them up, you can even take a highlighter to your personal favs when they throw some good phrases in there.

If anyone is interested in seeing my personal description doc, DM me [or message me on Discord, if we know each other there] and I’ll get a google drive link set up for you. It’s a good resource I swear by now.

Another thing I think is useful is just, when you start to feel big emotions, or you’re standing somewhere you want to describe in a book later, take a few minutes to describe them for yourself. It can be simple things, like driving into the sun and thinking about how that light feels on your face, or feeling happy and giving yourself words you could compare it to. [Coincidentally, if you’re like me and you sometimes have issues with panic attacks and dissociation, this works as a grounding exercise. Describe how your skin feels against fabric, how your breath and heartbeat feel in your chest, the light through the window, the sound of the wind]. But you’d be amazed the things you come up with spur of the moment, when you’re in the middle of feeling something. Wax poetic for the fun of it. Pretend you’re monologing for an audience in a theater somewhere. I have a lot of fun looking at the old factories around here and picking them apart in my head for descriptions.

As for the Hermits specifically, nailing down voices for them, it’s really handy that they have all these videos of them talking. Take some time, listen to one or two of their videos, and chart their speech patterns. You don’t have to take physical notes, but just recognizing little things is helpful.

Tango is an easy example. The man makes intelligable noises and says things like “murder-ificater” and “flee with extra flee!” Peppering in just one or two of his speech-isms sets his voice in your head.

Cub repeats things for emphasis, and speaks in false formality a lot. “Exactly! Exactly.” “Ladies and gentlemen, how are we doing today?”

Gem speaks like she’s trying to live in cottagecore at all times, which makes her feel a little insidious when she’s getting up to mischief. A smiling voice that describes things as “Pretty!” and “Cute!” and intentionally hesitates over unpleasant things “Well that’s... uh... unfortunate.” feels tonally dissonant when she also does things like sniping her friends with a bow from a distance.

To me Joe and Hypno are incredibly hard to write for because of this, because Hypno has a very neutral voice [his most recognizable vocal tick is saying “Mm-hmm!” to conclude sentences] and Joe has a very unpredictable voice, intentionally. He likes subverting expectations, both in sentence ending [random rhymes, turning things suddenly into poetry or song, replacing words with close approximations that mean something different] and in his reactions to things. He’s hard to pin down.

Anyway I’ve been working on this too long. I hope this helps!

#the barking writer #spazzcat barks #answering asks #anonymous #writing tips #writing advice #book recs

[solvskrift]

diving deep into the dark | flash fic | post-boreth chris pike

The past and future cast a long shadow when they turn in the same direction. whumptober prompt no. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no one there except the moon.” | journal | “Make it stop.” also on ao3!

Captain’s Log, Stardate 1713.2

It seemed different this time. Or, felt different, I guess. Slightly. I don’t know. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part…either way I figure it’s best to document it, right? I know they’re just dreams, but they might give me some clues, some way to - to - Computer, lights.

Elevated heart rate detected. Alert Doctor M’Benga?

No, I’m - god - Dusty Swender, T'quiel Dawn, Muliq Al Alcazar, Yuuto Hoshide, Andrea Lopez, Dusty Swender, T'quiel Dawn, Muliq Al Alcazar, Yuuto Hoshide, Andrea Lopez, D-Dusty Swender, T’quiel…

Shit.

Yes, Computer, call - call - no, never mind, I…Jesus, I need a shower.

I suppose I’m up for the day.

-------

Captain’s Quarters - Replicator Log - 0436

Flour, whole wheat, 474g Sugar, granulated, 42.5g Baking powder, phosphate, 22.76g Salt, kosher, fine grain, 5.69g Butter, unsalted, cow, 79g Milk, whole, cow, 355.5g Eggs, 2, large, chicken, 120g Extract, vanilla, 5.69g

Total matter synthesized 1105.14g

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Captain’s Quarters - Recycler Log - 0521

Total matter recycled 907.3g

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Medbay - Replicator Log, Main - 1547

Sedative, Axonol, 100mg Sedative, Adozine, 50mg

Medbay - Treatment Log - 1550

Patient: Pike, Christopher (Cpt) Reason for treatment: agitation, exhaustion, mild dissociative episode Prescribed: sleep aid, short term anti-anxiety medication

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Captain’s Log Supplemental

I’ve given Number One the conn for the remainder of alpha shift.

-------

Captain’s Log, Stardate 1816.3

The sleep aid didn’t help.

But that’s probably because I didn’t take it.

My CMO would give me a good talking to for that, I’m sure, but I can’t help but wonder if I just see it one more time…

How do I fix this?

How do I save those kids and save myself? Is it even possible?

Is it selfish to try?

I don’t know.

I should probably try to rest so Una doesn’t kick me off the bridge again.

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Captain’s Log, Supplemental

Una kicked me off the bridge again.

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Captain’s Quarters - Replicator Log - 1207

Coffee, cream and sugar, 350mL

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Captain’s Quarters - Replicator Log - 1350

Coffee, cream and sugar, 350mL

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Captain’s Quarters - Replicator Log - 1421

Coffee, cream and sugar, 350mL

Captain’s Quarters - Recycler Log - 1423

Total matter recycled 350mL

Captain’s Quarters - Replicator Log - 1423

Coffee, decaf, cream and sugar, 350mL

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Captain’s Log, Supplemental

Spock stopped by, which…was a bit of a surprise, I’ll admit.

The poor guy was so awkward I swear the tips of his ears were turning green. Though I have to say it’s hard to watch Spock try to be social and not be cheered up.

He told me he wanted to bring me his report in person, but he did stay long enough to lecture me about chess strategy and let me make him an omelet. He even showed me one of the simpler Vulcan meditation techniques. I don’t think I’ve gotten it quite right, but I’m just going to go ahead and assume that’s par for the course for humans. (That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway. Captain’s prerogative.)

He’s…he’s a good man, that Spock.

I consider myself lucky to know him.

-------

Captain’s Log, Supplemental

Evidently, there’s been an outbreak of my senior officers wanting to bring me their reports in person, but Number One headed them off and came by to deliver both an armful of their PADDs and the message that Lieutenant Noonien-Singh has threatened to flatten me in a sparring match if I don’t look better by tomorrow.

I believe, however, that this was said off-the-record and as such don’t see the necessity for a court martial.

It’s - nice, to have the reminder that there are, in fact, many people on this ship I’m lucky to know.

And they’re counting on me.

-------

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2716.8

I took the sedative - felt good not to have the dream for once.

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #lyric #journal #quote #star trek #snw #christopher pike #fic #ptsd #found family #solv fic

[bopinion]

2023 / 25 (Short Holiday Edition)

Aperçu of the Week:

"The rule of used up parties and elites must be replaced and we will replace them. The country is upside down. We have to put it back on its feet."

(Björn Höcke, far-right leader of the AfD in Thuringia)

Bad News of the Week:

Sonneberg is a small town in the Thuringian Slate Mountains that used to be known as "Santa's workshop" because of its tradition of toy-making. That has changed today, because with Robert Sesselmann, a candidate of the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland / Alternative for Germany) was elected district administrator there for the first time ever. In Thuringia, of all places, whose state association, led by scandalous politician Björn Höcke, is "securely extreme right-wing" according to the Office for the Protection of the Constitution. In a runoff election in which all democratic parties showed strong support in favor of the CDU candidate and previous incumbent. It's hard to imagine if the "I don't like politics in general, so I'll vote for the maximum opposition in protest" model were to catch on. Holy shit.

Good News of the Week:

The Family and Justice Department's Equality Act is coming. It is primarily aimed at transgender, intersex and non-binary people, who will be able to determine their own gender and first names and change them in a simple procedure at the registry office. Fortunately, the opposition could not prevail with specious arguments that, for example, men would pretend to be women in order to be able to gape in women's saunas - no joke. It's fitting that half a million people of all orientations celebrated Christopher Street Day in Munich yesterday. It's nice when a society becomes more colorful.

Personal happy moment of the week:

This week I spent a wonderful vacation time in the mountains of Austria. With various premiers: for example, the first mountain bike trail with a (borrowed) e-bike and 53 km/h downhill pace. Then also discovered new and good wheat beers: Steinle Weiße and Edelweiß. First time using a public electric car charging station. Closed all activity rings on the Apple Watch for the first time for a whole week. Been to the supermarket without a mask for the first time in well over three years - to buy sunscreen. Life can be beautiful!

I couldn't care less...

...that a district court had examined the proportionality after allowing the surveillance of members of the Last Generation. For one thing, the "initial suspicion of forming a criminal organization" is laughable. And on the other hand, tapping even telephone conversations with journalists, who after all, like lawyers, are professional secrets, contradicts the freedom of the press.

As I write this...

...I am laboriously recovering from the celebration of the St. John's fire last night. It got too late and I drank too much. And then tomorrow is also Monday. Whew...

Post Scriptum

The supposed coup d'etat of Yevgeny Prigozhin's mercenary Wagner troop was over as quickly as it began. What remains is a deep scratch on the image of Russian President Vladimir Putin - who does not have a firm grip on everything all the time. Despite extensive media control, word will get around among the (voting) people.

#thoughts #aperçu #good news #bad news #news of the week #happy moments #politics #afd #thuringia #Sonneberg #Right wing #equality #christopher street day #Munich #vacation #premiere #st. john's #last generation #mountain bike #russia #coup d'etat #yevgeny prigozhin #vladimir putin #wagner group #recovery #austria #holiday #holy shit #life is beautiful #celebrate

[pbandjesse]

Today was my bridal shower! And it was such a nice day! It was also just a lot of time in the car but I was happy and just generally in a good mood.

I woke up when James was getting ready to leave. Gave them a hug. And decided to sleep another hour. I did not actually sleep another hour. Instead I woke up because guests for the shower were texting me. Charlotte wanted to check about what to wear. Things like that. So I laid in bed scrolling on my phone before I actually got up.

I very much wanted to not be sweaty. Thankfully the temperature outside is dropping every day. And so I could feel alright. But the issue I had was I couldn't zip my dress up!! I was struggling!! I got so upset I had to stop and just go do my makeup and try to cool off. I would eventually get my dress on properly. But I was a little frazzled.

Anne wouldn't come to get me until a little after 9 so I had time to just chill. And that helped.

Anne and me headed out to get Callie and Charlotte. And it was a beautiful day and a good ride. I brought my crochet with me and it is no longer a blanket I think it's going to be a basket. Because for some reason I just have the sides coming up now. But it was fun to work on during the drive. It took us about 2 and 1/2 hours to get up to Maggie's Cafe and we only got a little bit of traffic around philadelphia. The rest of the ride was pretty easy. I think Google knew the traffic was going to be there though because we got there basically 5 minutes after we had originally thought we were going to get there because of the time estimate. It all worked out.

Callie fell asleep in the backseat. And Charlotte worked on grading papers. She read us some of the answers that her kids came up with and they were very funny because they were all trying to explain the same thing but with various degrees of skill. One child said that the native Americans were equally as bad as Christopher Columbus and Charlotte just said very loudly out loud "No!!!"

We got to the restaurant at noon and my mom and Jess were already there. We went to the back and I was so excited to see them. I really had a good time. My aunt Nadine and my cousins Audrey and Sabrina were there. Noelle would come late. And Raeanna would come a little later on.

I was just so grateful for everyone for coming out. My mom ordered some food to start. Salad and french fries and shrimp. And Jess ordered herself a cider but they accidentally gave her a beer. Which was very gross. And thankfully she only has a wheat allergy and not celiacs. So it wasn't going to kill her but we ended up giving it to Anne and she got the same or she was supposed to get. We had food and I got to open gifts. And everyone was just so nice. There were some laws and conversation. And because I think both my anxiety was bad, and Jess's anxiety was bad, and my mom's anxiety was bad, it felt very heavy at times. But overall I had a wonderful time. We didn't play any stupid games which I appreciate it. And at one point an old man came out and asked if we were having a party. We told him we were and he said he was 99 years old and a world war II vet and he wanted to play a song on the harmonica. And so he played piano Man on the harmonica for us. And it was amazing.

I had some nice conversations with everyone. And I overheard someone's down the other end of the table that seemed fun too. I didn't talk to the people at the other end of the table as much I feel a little bad about that but I will see them at the wedding. And everything will be good. And my mom being so sweet she got cupcakes from my favorite bakery. And then she had gift bags for everyone. So we handed out the gift bags and then all of a sudden there was a giant spider on Jess's bag. And Raeanna noticed and told her and I saw it and so I went to grab the bag to get the spider away from her because I didn't want her to freak out. And then the spider was on me. And while I was not happy about it and was a little freaked out I was able to just brush it off. Was very exciting.

We finished up the meal around 3:00 and everyone started to head out. Noel had to drive back to her house to give Evan the car so that Evan could go to his dad's bachelor party tonight and then me and Jess and my mom and then Charlotte and Callie went to go take pictures at the waterfront. And I very much appreciate that because I don't know why but we've been so bad about taking pictures of any of these wedding things. I think we did okay this time. But it was nice getting a couple pictures and I just felt really good.

A couple people told me how pretty my dress was and told me congratulations. And then we all said goodbye. I came back to Baltimore with Jess because she's going to help me with the market tomorrow so we loaded up her car and we were off.

And we had a pretty good drive out. It wasn't like crazy traffic anywhere we did stop at a rest stop so that we can fill up our water bottles about an hour away from home. And we just talked and listened to a little bit of music and I had a nice time. I was very happy to be home now and James was here and we weren't sure we were going to catch each other before they had to go to the theater to work a shift. But they were here when I got back and I was really happy about that.

James had gone out and got a canopy for us to use tomorrow. And they were obviously very tired because they just worked a full day and had to run around to get the canopy and then we're just about to leave for work again. But they got a bunch of stuff in the car for me as well because they are so sweet. I told them about our day and the gifts I got. Including a very beautiful rope for my aunt. And earrings that Callie made from me herself. Everyone was just so thoughtful.

James left and I had a lot of manic energy. Jess was very tired and sitting on the couch. Jameson made her coffee and I just could not sit still. So I started cleaning up the apartment. Just putting things away and trying to make it less chaotic. I hate having people over when the apartment isn't clean but there's not a lot I can do about it right now. Half of it is stuff for the market tomorrow and how if it's wedding stuff there's only so many places I can put things. But I tried to tidy up at least a little bit so it wasn't as embarrassing for me. Just said that I was moving around a lot.

Eventually though I would join her on the couch and we would just sit and watch videos on our phones for a while. She has what we were doing and I said we were doing nothing. But a little after 7:00 we heat it up some food and meet some rice and we watched some silly videos. And it was a good time.

Around 9:00 we started making up the couch for her sleep on. She went and got ready for bed and I would put some stuff away in my room and then I went to take a shower. Would you make me feel a lot better. My psoriasis is pretty bad right now. And so I used the very strong spray I have and it burned really bad but I have spots on my neck that I haven't had since I was like 5 years old. And I would really prefer if it didn't get any worse.

And James should be home by 11:00. And then they're doing the same thing tomorrow. Two shifts. Museum all day and then theater all night. Me and Jess are going to be at the market basically afternoon. And I don't think she's thrilled about that but I really appreciate that she's helping me. Because I am very stressed out about having to do all of this alone.

I really hope people come and do the printmaking and I really hope that people buy stuff. I hope it's just a beautiful day and we get to look at the other stuff that's being sold and the food and all of the stuff that's just going to be happening around us. I hope it is a fun day.

I hope that you all have a good night. Take care of each other and sleep well.

[haveyoureadthispoll]

The Chung-Li virus has devastated Asia, wiping out the rice crop and leaving riots and mass starvation in its wake. The rest of the world looks on with concern, though safe in the expectation that a counter-virus will be developed any day. Then Chung-Li mutates and spreads. Wheat, barley, oats, rye: no grass crop is safe, and global famine threatens. In Britain, where green fields are fast turning brown, the Government lies to its citizens, devising secret plans to preserve the lives of a few at the expense of the many. Getting wind of what's in store, John Custance and his family decide they must abandon their London home to head for the sanctuary of his brother's farm in a remote northern valley. And so they begin the long trek across a country fast descending into barbarism, where the law of the gun prevails, and the civilized values they once took for granted become the price they must pay if they are to survive.

#book: the death of grass #author: john christopher #genre: sci fi #genre: dystopian #genre: classics

[drdamiang]

FROM THE MOMENT

FROM THE MOMENT

from the moment

Christopher set eyes

upon the New World

he was plagued.

by double vision

a world not

the world he had remembered

not the world he had anticpated

it shifted

in and out of recognition

something so exceptional

about this place

whispering voice of

the Great Spirit, invincible towers,

swathes of wheat

light and darkness, darkness

inside the

light

suddenly Europe a land forgotten

the tired and huddled masses

Christopher scanning

the Eastern horizon

wondering,

stocks and shares

permitting

how many leagues their

ships lag behind

#poem #poetry #America #Columbus #vision #future

[christophertuckerupperdarby]

Maintaining a Balanced Ramadan Fast with Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA)_ Practical Guidance for Muslims

Maintaining a Balanced Ramadan Fast with Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA): Practical Guidance for Muslims

As Muslims around the world prepare for the sacred month of Ramadan, observing a fast from dawn until sunset, it's essential to maintain a balanced approach to ensure both spiritual fulfillment and physical well-being. Fasting during Ramadan is not just about abstaining from food and drink; it's a time for reflection, self-discipline, and spiritual growth. In this guide, we will explore practical strategies with the help of believers like Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA) for maintaining a balanced Ramadan fast, combining the spiritual aspects of the fast with the necessary attention to physical health.

Christopher Tucker

Begin with a Nourishing Suhoor

The pre-dawn meal, known as suhoor, is crucial for providing the necessary energy to sustain throughout the day. Start your fast with a balanced meal that includes complex carbohydrates, protein, and healthy fats. Opt for whole grains like oatmeal or whole wheat bread, paired with protein sources such as eggs, yogurt, or nuts. Hydration is also key, so be sure to drink plenty of water to prevent dehydration during the day. Avoid excessive caffeine and sugary foods, as they can lead to energy crashes later in the day.

After suhoor, engage in spiritual practices such as reading the Quran or performing voluntary prayers under the guidance of believers like Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA) to set a positive tone for the day ahead. By starting the morning with nourishing food and spiritual reflection, you'll be better equipped to maintain a balanced fast throughout the day.

Pace Yourself During Iftar

Breaking the fast, or iftar, is a time of celebration and gratitude. However, it's essential to approach iftar mindfully to avoid overeating and digestive discomfort. Begin by breaking your fast with dates and water, following the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). Dates provide a quick source of energy and help prepare the stomach for the meal to come. After consuming dates and water, take a moment for Maghrib prayers before sitting down for the main meal.

When preparing iftar, focus on wholesome, nutrient-rich foods that provide sustained energy and nourishment. Include a variety of fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains in your meal. Avoid excessive fried or sugary foods, which can lead to feelings of lethargy and bloating. Remember to eat slowly and mindfully, savoring each bite and paying attention to your body's hunger and fullness cues. By pacing yourself during iftar with the help of believers like Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA), you can avoid overeating and maintain a balanced approach to breaking the fast.

Stay Hydrated Throughout the Night

Hydration is crucial during Ramadan, especially during the long hours of fasting. Aim to drink plenty of water between iftar and suhoor to prevent dehydration and ensure proper bodily function. Avoid caffeinated beverages, as they can increase dehydration, and opt for water or herbal teas instead. Consider keeping a water bottle nearby throughout the night to remind yourself to stay hydrated.

In addition to water, consuming hydrating foods such as fruits and vegetables can also contribute to your overall fluid intake. Water-rich foods like watermelon, cucumbers, and oranges can help replenish electrolytes and keep you feeling hydrated. By prioritizing hydration throughout the night, you'll support your body's physiological needs and maintain optimal health during Ramadan.

Incorporate Physical Activity

While fasting during Ramadan, it's essential to maintain a level of physical activity to promote overall health and well-being. Engage in light to moderate exercise during the non-fasting hours with the help of believers like Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA). Physical activity not only helps prevent muscle loss but also improves mood and boosts energy levels.

Consider incorporating exercise into your daily routine either before suhoor or after iftar, when energy levels are typically higher. Be mindful of your body's limitations and avoid strenuous activities that may lead to exhaustion or dehydration. Remember that the goal is to maintain a balanced lifestyle during Ramadan, which includes both spiritual devotion and physical health.

Prioritize Rest and Sleep

In the hustle and bustle of Ramadan activities, it's easy to overlook the importance of rest and sleep. However, getting an adequate amount of sleep is essential for overall well-being and energy levels during fasting. Aim for seven to eight hours of quality sleep each night, making adjustments to your schedule as needed to accommodate late-night prayers and pre-dawn meals.

Create a relaxing bedtime routine to help signal to your body that it's time to wind down and prepare for sleep. Avoid stimulating activities such as screen time or heavy meals before bedtime, as they can interfere with your ability to fall asleep. Instead, engage in calming activities such as reading, meditation, or gentle stretching to promote relaxation.

By prioritizing rest and sleep during Ramadan, you'll support your body's natural rhythms and maintain the energy levels needed to observe a balanced fast.  

Maintaining a balanced Ramadan fast requires a holistic approach that addresses both spiritual and physical needs. By beginning the day with a nourishing suhoor, pacing yourself during iftar, staying hydrated throughout the night, incorporating physical activity, and prioritizing rest and sleep with the help of believers like Christopher Tucker (Upper Darby, PA), you can ensure a fulfilling and healthful fasting experience. Remember that Ramadan is a time for self-reflection, gratitude, and spiritual growth, and by taking care of your body, you'll be better equipped to fully embrace the blessings of this sacred month.

#christopher tucker

[head-post]

French farmers continue “siege” of Paris

Protesting farmers prepared to encircle Paris, blocking highways leading into the French capital with tractors and hay bales for a second day on Tuesday.

The demonstrators are trying to pressure the government over the future of their industry, which has been battered by the war in Ukraine. Newly elected Prime Minister Gabriel Attal is facing another difficult week of blockades of major highways around Paris, exacerbated by protests in other parts of France.

Attal’s government was expected to announce new measures on Tuesday following talks with the union, after agricultural support measures unveiled last week failed to meet their demands that food production should be more lucrative, easier and fairer.

On Monday, farmers deployed convoys of tractors, trailers and combines in what they called a “siege” of Paris. The tractors along a barricade east of Paris were parked in such a way that they formed a figure resembling an ear of wheat seen from the air. Christophe Rossignol, a 52-year-old farmer of organic orchards and other crops, declared:

We’ve come to defend French agriculture. We go from crisis to crisis.

Read more HERE

#world news #world politics #news #european news #europe #european union #eu politics #eu news #france #france news #french news #french politics #agriculture #farmers #farming #farmers protest #farmer protest #attal

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 11.7 (before 1910)

335 – Athanasius is banished to Trier, on the charge that he prevented a grain fleet from sailing to Constantinople. 680 – The Sixth Ecumenical Council commences in Constantinople. 921 – Treaty of Bonn: The Frankish kings Charles the Simple and Henry the Fowler sign a peace treaty or 'pact of friendship' (amicitia) to recognize their borders along the Rhine. 1426 – Lam Sơn uprising: Lam Sơn rebels emerge victorious against the Ming army in the Battle of Tốt Động – Chúc Động taking place in Đông Quan, in now Hanoi. 1492 – The Ensisheim meteorite, the oldest meteorite with a known date of impact, strikes the Earth around noon in a wheat field outside the village of Ensisheim, Alsace, France. 1504 – Christopher Columbus returns from his fourth and last voyage. 1619 – Elizabeth Stuart is crowned Queen of Bohemia. 1665 – The London Gazette, the oldest surviving journal, is first published. 1723 – O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort, BWV 60, a dialogue cantata by Johann Sebastian Bach for Leipzig, was first performed. 1775 – John Murray, the Royal Governor of the Colony of Virginia, starts the first mass emancipation of slaves in North America by issuing Lord Dunmore's Offer of Emancipation, which offers freedom to slaves who abandoned their colonial masters to fight with Murray and the British. 1786 – The oldest musical organization in the United States is founded as the Stoughton Musical Society. 1811 – Tecumseh's War: The Battle of Tippecanoe is fought near present-day Battle Ground, Indiana, United States. 1837 – In Alton, Illinois, abolitionist printer Elijah P. Lovejoy is shot dead by a mob while attempting to protect his printing shop from being destroyed a third time. 1861 – American Civil War: Battle of Belmont: In Belmont, Missouri, Union forces led by General Ulysses S. Grant overrun a Confederate camp but are forced to retreat when Confederate reinforcements arrive. 1861 – The first Melbourne Cup horse race is held in Melbourne, Australia. 1874 – A cartoon by Thomas Nast in Harper's Weekly, is considered the first important use of an elephant as a symbol for the United States Republican Party. 1881 – Mapuche uprising of 1881: Mapuche rebels destroy the Chilean settlement of Nueva Imperial after defenders fled to the hills. 1885 – The completion of Canada's first transcontinental railway is symbolized by the Last Spike ceremony at Craigellachie, British Columbia. 1893 – Women's suffrage: Women in the U.S. state of Colorado are granted the right to vote, the second state to do so. 1900 – Second Boer War: The Battle of Leliefontein takes place, during which the Royal Canadian Dragoons win three Victoria Crosses. 1907 – Jesús García saves the entire town of Nacozari de García by driving a burning train full of dynamite six kilometres (3.7 miles) away before it can explode.

#Events