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#common knowledge
namibozsu · 11 months
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I have only 1 desire for touhou 19
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Stop using the excuse of antisemitism and the history of the holocaust of what Israel is doing. You guys are creating another holocaust yet are bitching and complaining.
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White jews who fled Europe to Palestine thanks to Hitler now claims to own the ancient land. Then turned their Judaism into Zionism. White colonizers jealous and trying to steal history, land, culture and so much more. Entitled bitches. May Allah burn you devils in hell. Ameen.
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starrynightsxo · 2 months
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spelling bee: how do you spell "mother"?
tfota fandom: *instantly* jude duarte
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elen-aranel · 8 months
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Helloo~ May I make a Christopher Pike x reader request? It's a month old scuttlebutt, that the captain is involved with you, based solely on misconstrued events (leaving the direction of his quarters early morn in a rumpled uniform, stopping by medbay for a 'shot') Everyone knows that everyone knows, from cadet to captain. Except you don't. And noone has bothered checking. And the captain finds it funny (and you 'apparently' don't mind either as you've not bothered to shoot it down) so any moments you two have in view of others, he gives you a conspirational wink with some flirty banter. You think (hope) he's really flirting and not just being friendly.
Is it a bit much for a request? If so lemme know. Or i can commission? Idk. The idea hit me and it made me giggle with all the ways it could go.
Thank you so much for the request, and for your patience... this took a while! I hope you like the direction I've gone with it <333
Common Knowledge
Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings/Notes: Reader wears the dress version of the standard SNW uniform. Food mentions, alcohol mention. WC: 5.8k
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It all starts the morning after you spent gamma shift in a Jeffries tube. Well. Several Jeffries tubes, in fact, chasing down an issue with a relay that had blown and taken a bunch of circuitry out with it, including some life support systems.
You’re feeling good, though, as you step out into the corridor on a deck full of crew quarters. Yes, your red uniform dress is creased and you’re in dire need of a shower, but the relay and the burned-out circuitry are replaced, and all systems are back online.
You deserve a water shower, not a sonic one, you tell yourself as you head toward the turbolift, nodding to the occasional officer as you walk by them. You just need to make sure the ops console on the bridge is reading everything correctly, then your duty shift will be done.
“Commander, Lieutenant,” you greet Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley and Lieutenant Ortegas as you enter the turbolift. Unlike you, they both look fresh and ready to face the day. Number One nods in greeting, but Ortegas looks you up and down quite blatantly, and you find you’re trying to smooth your skirt despite yourself.
“Long night?”
“I—” you start, but before you can reply—
“Computer, hold. Open the doors,” Commander Chin-Riley says, and as you turn, Captain Pike is walking into the lift. And somehow, even though you’ve been on the Enterprise for a while, you’re never not struck by his presence. His broad shoulders. How handsome he is.
“Good morning, Number One, Ortegas. Lieutenant.” He puts an odd weight on your title, even though of course he knows your name, and then your mind goes blank as he winks one of those blue eyes.
“C-captain,” you stutter, well aware of Ortegas trying to stifle a laugh next to you.
“Sleep well?” Una asks, something knowing in her voice, after the captain directs the turbolift to the bridge.
“I’ve had… more restful nights,” he says, and looks at you sideways, doubtless taking in your rumpled dress and less-than-fresh appearance. “Like the lieutenant here, I’d wager,” he adds, and you must have missed a memo somewhere because this ‘lift ride has gotten very weird, very fast.
You decide keeping quiet is your best bet — it’s a short ride, thank goodness.
But you can’t shake the feeling that there are eyes on you as you finish your work on the bridge.
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It may have started in a Jeffries tube, but it continues in sickbay.
You appreciate knowing sickbay is there. Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel are skilled at their jobs, and you’ve had cause to be grateful for them when accidents happen, from a pulled muscle during a workout to a painful plasma burn from faulty equipment.
That doesn’t mean you love getting your quarterly check-up and shots. But you decided early on in your career that you weren’t going to be one of those people doctors had to chase for their physicals. Every three months you turn up. You’re due for routine vaccinations against some common alien viruses that human immune systems need reminders about, and your contraceptive shot.
Not that you really need it, of course. You aren’t getting any. The closest you’ve been since you joined the Enterprise was Lieutenant Paulson, a senior engineer who sometimes commands gamma shift when you’re on that rotation. He asked you out to dinner on Starbase 1, and while you like him as a person, you had to decline. You’d known him for a while, and never felt any kind of spark. And there’s been no-one— there’s been almost no-one else on the ship that you’re interested in. But still, you get your shot.
Today your appointment is during your shift. You didn’t want to be interrupted; you’re working on a new scanning device to be used on a planet with an unusual combination of atmosphere and magnetic field, which affects the resolution of normal scanners. So when your reminder went off you kept hold of your PADD, and you carried on entering the design parameters as you walked.
“Woah there,” a voice cuts through the equations you’re focussing on, and you feel hands on your arms, steadying you as you stumble.
As it turns out, walking with a PADD is a mistake.
Especially when you walk straight into the captain in the corridor outside sickbay.
“Captain! I’m so sorry! I—I was— I’ll pay more attention.” You look up, flustered, into his blue eyes, suddenly keenly aware of the bulk of him, of the controlled strength in his hands.  Happily, he seems amused rather than annoyed, that half smile playing about his lips.
“I do admire your... dedication, Lieutenant, but you’re right. Paying attention is a good idea.”
And as the doors to sickbay swish open, letting Chief Kyle and one of your fellow engineers out onto the corridor, you realise the captain hasn’t moved. You’re still in his space, and he’s still holding you.
“Captain, Lieutenant... are you joining us?” Nurse Chapel looks as though she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re, uh... both here for your quarterly shots, right?” she adds, as Pike finally steps back, and you walk with him into sickbay. You nod, mutely.
“Yes. Timed it perfectly this time, didn’t we Lieutenant?” he says, and he grins at you, knowing.
“Sure,” you find yourself saying, sitting down a little abruptly on the biobed Doctor M'Benga indicates. Is Pike… flirting with you? Or just being his usual warm self?
“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure you want to get back to your... duties.” M'Benga looks meaningfully at Pike, who shrugs, a picture of innocence.
“Can you blame us?”
You can’t help your smile.
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But actually, now you really think about it, maybe you’re wrong.  Maybe it started with the onions.
You have a shift free, moving from nights to days as you do on a semi-regular basis, since some edict came down from Starfleet that people shouldn’t just work nights for health reasons. It doesn’t entirely make sense to you; you’re on a ship, so it’s not like anyone has a real day or night, but being able to socialise with people who are always on alpha is a plus, and you suppose the same rules apply to planetary bases which do have day and night.
The captain has invited you to dinner. That isn’t special, even though you wish it were – he likes to get to know the whole crew in an informal setting, and it’s just your turn. And maybe you over-think it just a little, during the day, planning what to wear to make yourself look pretty but not like you’d tried too hard.
Either way, you are early. You only realise as you press the chime for the door, when it’s too late to back out.
But the captain’s smile is warm and welcoming. “Hi, come in, come in. You any good with a vegetable knife?”
You grin in return, relaxing. “Yes sir. It’s been a little while, but I can chop.”
“Chris. We’re not on the clock right now.”
“Yes, Chris.” You follow him into the kitchen area of his quarters, taking in the fire, the view of a green forest through the windows, all the details that mark the space as his.
“Excellent. That spatial anomaly today— well. I’m playing catch-up here.”
“Oh wow, you really are...” the vegetables are all laid out ready, and there are a lot. But then, you don’t know how many people will be here. “Set me to work. How do you want the carrots?”
Pike’s knives are sharp and well balanced, and it’s easy to chop carrots into even circles, and to dice potatoes into neat cubes. You chat, too, about the food he’s making, and the special unit he had the ship’s botanists set up to let him grow fresh herbs in space.
You’re pretty much on autopilot by the time you get to the onions. You know the technique: you slice them in half through the root, then make sure you don’t cut the root again as you cut from close to the root to the tip, then across into chunks.
“So, there’s something I’m curious about,” you say as you grab the next onion.
“Oh?” Pike pauses for a moment, hand poised over the control for the oven.
“The forest overlay you have for the windows. Is it somewhere special to you? It’s really lovely.” You blink a little as you chop. Perhaps you got a lash or something in your eye.
Pike presses the control on the oven, then turns to look at you. “No, actually it’s—” he frowns. “Wait, are you all right?”
You blink again. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Your brow draws together, and you put your knife down, turning to him a little more.
“Because you’re crying.” He starts towards you.
“Oh, damn.” You can feel it now — that tell-tale sting in your eyes. You look down at your chopping. “The onions. But I was being careful.” You sigh, blink again, and feel a tear roll down your cheek.
“If there are a lot it doesn’t matter how careful you are. I’m sorry, I should have done them.” He reaches past you, and you’re terribly aware of him in your space. He pulls off a piece of kitchen towel.
 “It’s not your fault—” the words die on your lips as he turns to face you, blue eyes filled with concern.
“I’ll just—I don’t want you to use your hands—” and he takes the towel and dabs your face, and you suck a little breath in at his closeness, wondering why it has to be in a circumstance like this, when the door chime goes. “Enter,” he says, distractedly, blotting away one more tear before stepping back. “There. No harm done. But you should wash up. Ah, Spock, perhaps you can take over the chopping.”
You look round to see that Spock, Sam Kirk, Ortegas and Uhura have all walked in, just in time to see you with red eyes from the onions. At least, you think as you wash the onion off your hands, your makeup is waterproof.
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Regardless of how things did or did not start, you’re pretty sure the captain only thinks of you as a friend. That this flirting is just a joke between the two of you... even if you wish it were real. Either way, you decide you might as well enjoy it.
You get back to the transport point from your solo hike on Chi Orianis Prime – it’s beautiful, with fluffy peachy-pink grass that’s soft underfoot and smells very slightly citrus-y when you tread on it, interspersed with lavender coloured bushes, with views of blue lakes and red mountains in the distance – right as Pike gets back from his fishing trip. Given how he’s carrying his cooler, it must have been a successful one.
You’re just about to ask him about it when Chapel and Ortegas arrive, with Uhura and La’an in tow, laughing together. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts and sandals, carrying towels — clearly back from the beach, La’an actually looking like she might have caught the sun a little.
You take a step closer to him.
“Enjoy your trip?” The smile on Erica’s face is just a little too innocent.
“Yes, thank you. Wouldn’t have been the same without the lieutenant here, though.” Pike catches your eye, and you smile back at him, sappy, playing along.
“The captain’s right. We had a good time.”
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None of your close friends wanted to go to movie night with you tonight. They’re showing a classic 20th century Earth film, Casablanca, and none of them were interested in seeing something that old. But it seems pretty popular with the rest of the crew when you get there. You pick up some popcorn first, wondering once again whose idea it was to put a Starfleet delta on the containers, and you head to find a seat.
Maybe it was a good thing your friends didn’t come. There aren’t too many spaces left when you go to sit down, but there are a few seats a couple of rows in front of where Spock and Nurse Chapel are sitting together. You settle in, allowing yourself three pieces of popcorn before the lights go down.
And right before they do, Pike slides into the free seat next to you.
“I thought you were going to stand me up,” you tell him, tilting your popcorn container over.
“A gentleman would never,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a piece.
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The back of the shuttle is open to the bay, and Cadets Novakova and Manuel, on engineering rotation, are standing inside it with you, PADDs in hand. You’ve popped a panel off the inside of the shuttle, and you indicate a junction point.
“So, okay. You want to interplex the circuitry here. What will be the result of that? What are you hoping to achieve?”
“Well, the increased signal strength will improve thruster response time and efficiency.” Manuel says, shrugging his broad shoulders like it’s obvious.
“Yes, and we need better responsiveness for the planet. The atmospheric differentials are almost out of spec.” Novakova nods. “This is the easiest way to achieve that.”
“All right. And looking at the systems in front of you, will there be any other consequences?”
“No, there shouldn’t, it should just—” there’s a pause, then Novakova steps back, playing with a twist of her blonde hair as she considers. “Wait. That pathway, it connects to the impulse engine as well, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does, and the boosted signal would go through there too…” Manuel’s fingers fly over his PADD.
They look at each other as the penny drops, and you notice Pike in the bay, listening in. You tilt your head and raise a brow in a silent invitation, but he shakes his head a little, content to observe.
“So if we interplex the circuitry there, we will get an increase in thruster efficiency, but at the expense of introducing instability into the impulse control matrix.” Manuel sighs.
“You’re flying along, minding your business and then boom. Impulse reactor overload.” Novakova winces. “I didn’t see that.”
You nod. “You didn’t. Because neither of you really looked. For what it’s worth, it would probably have worked on the shuttles at the academy. But these are a different model. You have to work with what’s actually in front of you. That’s half the battle.”
“Wise words, Lieutenant.” Pike leans into the back of the shuttle, and you can’t help your smile at the praise as the cadets turn to acknowledge him. “The two of you should take them to heart.”
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You're sitting on a bench in the bar, sipping a favourite drink, listening to Ensign Thyra play an Earth guitar but sing a wistful sounding song in her native Andorian, when Lieutenant Ortegas sits down next to you. And then Nurse Chapel sits on your other side.
“So, you and the captain. How’s that going?” Christine’s opening is straight to the point.
You give her a sceptical look. “It... isn’t? Hi to you too, by the way.” You turn to Erica. “To both of you.”
“Oh, come on. You guys are not subtle.” Erica rolls her eyes. “It’s been scuttlebutt for weeks. Me, Number One,” she starts counting off on her fingers, “Christine, Mbenga, Uhura...”
“Sam Kirk,” Christine adds.
“Yes, Sam Kirk, Spock, La’an...”
 “We’ve all seen it. I even heard the cadets talking about it. Everyone knows.”
You shake your head, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “We’re not... I don’t—” you look from one to the other. “There’s nothing between the captain and me.” You take a breath. “He flirts, sometimes I flirt back, but it’s just a joke.”
“Doesn’t look like a joke to me.” Christine says, her voice soft, almost sympathetic.
Erica shrugs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it, if you guys are keeping things to yourselves... We just wanted you to know that we’re happy for you. Pike should have someone on the ship. And you. You should have someone too.” Her smile as she stands to leave is genuine.
“I—I’m not hiding anything. But thanks, I guess? I appreciate the sentiment.”
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Arriving early when the captain invites you to a crew dinner is your habit now. You enjoy helping with prep when you can, and having a quiet moment to chat with Chris.
But this time you use the computer to check that others have arrived before you get there. You try to relax; these are your friends, Chris is your friend, but with what Erica and Christine said… you feel self-conscious. Second guessing everything you do and say.
 You leave as soon as you can without being rude.
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You feel a bit self-conscious with work, too, although you try to bury it. Especially with Pike piloting the shuttle for this mission. You’re sitting in your tactical uniform in the back of shuttle Kepler with Spock, Sam Kirk, La’an, and a couple more science officers. You would expect Kirk especially to pass some comment, but even he is quiet, because Zeta Lyrae VI’s wind shear is every bit as bad as science predicted.
A long-range scanning probe identified it as a possible source of dilithium as well as some other useful minerals — visual scan only, though, because the strange magnetic field prevented scanning of the interior. But that’s where the scanner you developed comes in. The visual scan also tagged some potential ruins which Kirk will investigate, and there’s general surveying to do too.
You grit your teeth against the turbulence. You trust that the captain’s piloting skills and the modifications you and the cadets made to the shuttle will see you safely to the ground, but you still feel motion sick. You know, though, there are pattern enhancers in the cargo. Perhaps you’ll be able to beam back up.
The turbulence lessens as you get deeper into the atmosphere, but you’re still very glad when the shuttle touches down. There’s a metallic tang to the air as the shuttle door opens, but it’s cool and refreshing despite that, and you take a deep breath, settling your rolling stomach, before you get to work.
The dawn sky of Zeta Lyrae IV is muted shades of pale blue and grey, warming a little to mauve-pink at the horizon, where the two suns have just risen. Barren-looking plains stretch out in front of you, with a river lazily meandering across, and there are hills leading to mountains not far away to your right. It’s hard to make out, but the lines of dark stones partially embedded in the ground to your left could well be the remains of a wall, and there are other, more defined structures further away in that direction.
“Lieutenant, you have everything you need?”
“Yes sir.” You lift your last case again, the heavy one, and try to keep your face blank at the weight of it. You know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but its contents were too large for your backpack. “I’ve identified a site two kilometres away that’s suitable for the scanner base. Enhanced scanning should be online within an hour.”
Pike nods. “Kirk, La’an, you have the ruins. Spock, the science survey is yours.” He turns to you. “Let me help with that.”
“I’m fine, honestly,” you protest as Pike takes the case from you, fingers brushing yours for one tiny electric moment.
“We’ll make quicker time if we share the load. Which I’m sure Spock will appreciate.”
“Aye, sir.”
You notice that there’s no flirtatious comment today.
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This planet feels a bit like a dream, with its dead quiet, muted colours, pearly grey sky and the two suns gently highlighting the landscape. The only evidence you can see of the turbulent atmosphere are the occasional blue-green clouds scudding quickly across the sky.
You pick your way through the pathless terrain, looking for any signs of life. While there are scraps of ragged looking vegetation here and there, a lot of it seems dead, and the planet as a whole seems mostly barren.
You don’t make conversation; there’s something about the planet’s quiet and your confused emotions that steals your ability to make small talk, and Pike is quiet too. There’s just the sound of two pairs of boots crunching on the ground.
Until you almost step on a flower: a seven petaled bloom in the shape of a star, pale blue in the middle deepening to grey-purple just at the tips. You pause to get a better look, to see if there are any others like it nearby, but it seems solitary.
“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”
You look up to see Pike has stopped too, mild concern on his face.
“Yes sir, I’m fine.” You straighten up. “I just... this flower is the only one I’ve seen, and I wonder... is it the last gasp of the life that used to live on this planet, or is it a glimpse of hope for the future?”
Pike glances at the flower, but his focus is on you when he speaks. “We’ll likely never know, but I... I choose hope.”
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The site you chose from the visual scan is obvious when you get there. You’re at the edge of the hills, and there’s a grey cliff curving round one edge of a flat open area. Geophysics had identified it as a potential location for dilithium, and as you get close you can see veins of the pink crystal running through the rock.
Now you just need to find out how much there is.
With Pike helping it doesn’t take too long to set the scanner up. You start with the base in the case he was carrying, and together you fold it out into a large circle, locking struts and its three legs in place.
You attach the probe that will drill into the soil, the antennas to communicate with the smaller unit near the shuttle and with the Enterprise, and to facilitate scanning in the atmosphere. Finally, you attach the computer from your backpack which is the brains of the system — you can’t help your private smile of satisfaction as it comes online. The shuttle is far enough away that its systems don’t affect the sensitive scans, and when the probe deploys and calibration data flows straight through immediately.
You talk to Commander Pelia and Lieutenant Spock on comms, making adjustments on the fly to the different parameters, optimising the uplink from the scanner and away team’s tricorders to the Enterprise.
Pike checks in with La’an at some point, but next time you look up you see he’s a little way away, tricorder out, following a standard scanning pattern working outward from where you are. You’re a little surprised he didn’t tell you that’s what he was going to do. Then the scanner beeps as the drill returns a result outside expected tolerances, pulling your focus.
It’s easier to get lost in your work than think about him, and for a long while, you do.
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“Lieutenant, do you see that?” There’s a note of concern in Pike’s voice, and you follow his gaze to the horizon to your right.
It almost looks like a distant rain shower would on Earth, but there are green lights sparking all through it. Like lightning but less directional. You take a breath, and realise the metallic smell has intensified, to the point you can almost taste it.
“Yes, sir, I do.” You turn and meet Pike’s eyes.
“Plasma storm?”
“Plasma storm.” You redirect your scanner’s gain to maximum in that direction, sacrificing resolution elsewhere.
Pike’s tone is rueful. “Should’ve known when I scanned a burned patch of vegetation. It must have developed quickly.”
“Looks like it’s moving fast, too.”
“I’ll contact the rest of the away team, have them meet us at the shuttle. You start packing.”
“Sir,” you reply, distracted, already deep in the scanner readouts. You vaguely hear Pike calling Spock, then La’an, but you’re focused on one last scan.
“Lieutenant? I gave you an order.”
“Yes sir, you did, but look.” You point to the readout of the storm’s speed on the screen. “Scans show that even if we leave right now, we can’t make it back to the shuttle before the storm hits. We don’t even have time for them to pick us up.”
Pike frowns. “Options?”
“The cliff. There’s a cave system behind it. I don’t think there’s an entrance close enough, but...”
“Phasers? All this dilithium makes it risky.”
“Plasma burns are no fun, sir. I would know.”
He raises a brow. “Sounds like a story for later. All right. Let’s do this.”
You grab your phaser from your holster and dial the power up.
“Fire.”
You focus your beam on the weakest spot, and Pike fires at it too. And... nothing happens, for long enough for a shade of doubt to creep in. Then there’s a sound, a pile of rubble, and a gap. Just large enough for a person.
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The cave is dark. It’s big, too, enough that the torches on your vests can’t illuminate the other side from where you are.
The storm is still raging outside, but the sound of it is quiet in here; the narrow space you opened the gap into curved round for a few metres before opening out into the space you’re in.
Now all you can do is sit and wait.
And you’re so aware of Pike, sitting with you.
He’s quiet, and now you come to think of it he has been all day. Definitely no flirting. You try to steal a glance at him, see what he’s thinking, but it’s too dark, and you don’t want to turn to face him.
You cast around for a distraction, and find a piece of dilithium embedded in the rock floor of the cavern next to you. The surface is flat and glassy-smooth, but with a few imperfections, and you like the feel of it under your fingers. In your head you go over the dilithium crystal eigenstates you memorised at the academy in one of your classes in warp field mechanics, and calculate the power output you would need for your phaser to trigger different levels.
“Sir, I’d like to try something, to give us some more light. It’s safe.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
You adjust your phaser to its second lowest setting, scoot across a little and fire on the dilithium, counting seconds in your head. It starts glowing red immediately, but as you shut the beam off the glow spreads, along one vein, then another, then another, until the whole cavern is lit up like its own galaxy, surrounding you on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.
“Wow, that’s—that’s good work. Thank you.”
There’s something in his expression as he looks at you, the wonder in his eyes melting into a smile, that makes you brave.
“So… I had an—an interesting chat with Chapel and Ortegas the other day.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently the scuttlebutt is that we’re dating... we’ve been dating for a while. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t true.” You stare out across the cavern at all the glimmering lights.
“Oh.” He exhales. “Hah, yeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that? Things… got away from me.” You hear him stir, move into a different position.
You frown. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”
“I’ve always been interested in you. And you’re not the sort of person that’s cowed by rank – Paulson is your superior, in your chain of command, but I was in the bar when he asked you to dinner, and you were so sure of yourself when you rejected him. So that day in the turbolift, Una and Erica jumping to conclusions... Your face was a picture, and I had to take Una’s bait. But by the time she told me there was already a rumour, you were joining in, and I—”
His voice goes quiet, like a confession.
“I couldn’t stop. And that wasn’t fair to you… making you an object of gossip like that.”
“Chris, I—” but now it comes to it, you can’t find the words. How do you tell him that you wouldn’t mind, not at all, if only the gossip were real? “But you did stop. We’ve barely spoken today. Until now.”
“I can read the room. You weren’t up for it the other night. Or today. And… I would never force my attentions where they clearly aren’t wanted.”
“But... they are, Chris. They are wanted.”
The cavern is dead quiet, and you almost wonder if you actually spoke aloud. But the look in Pike’s eyes when you finally turn to meet them—
“Lieutenant Spock to Captain Pike. Come in, please.”
Pike shrugs a little, face apologetic, as he flips open his communicator.
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The ride back to the Enterprise is as quiet, and bumpy, as the ride to the planet. Spock and the rest of the away team had sheltered in the shuttle with shields up while the storm passed over them, and when the Enterprise’s scanners had shown that another one was forming, they came to pick you up.
All the equipment you left outside was destroyed.
But you think, as you climb in the shuttle, you catch a glimpse of one of those star-shaped flowers, still intact. Still blooming.
And Pike makes a point to catch your eye as you leave the shuttle bay. It’s subtle, but you recognise the invitation.
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You think you can smell food as you press Pike’s door chime, and the scent only gets more appetising as you walk in. The lights are low, apart from the fire burning brightly, and Pike pauses, apron on over his gold uniform, to smile at you as you walk over to the kitchen area.
“You came.”
“Of course.”
He picks a small bottle up, and pours from it into a salad bowl in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry… I may have gone a little overboard on the mac and cheese. I thought we could use a little comfort food after that planet.”
“It smells amazing. Anything I can do to help?”
“It’s almost ready. You could pour the wine?” He indicates to the bottle and two glasses on one end of his L shape table. You uncork the chilled bottle and take care of the drinks while he brings plates, salad, and the macaroni cheese, piping hot and smelling delicious.
Sitting next to Chris, rather than opposite like you might at a restaurant or on the other side of the L as you have when you’ve been to crew meals here, feels so intimate. As he reaches over to get some salad, or you go to pick up your glass to sip some chardonnay, you can’t help but touch. You try not to let being this close to him distract you… as intimate as this is, as hopeful as you are, nothing is settled.
You take a bite of your pasta and sigh. “It’s perfect, Chris. Creamy, the cheese— everything. Perfect comfort food. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” You see him relax a little as you load up another forkful; he cares what you think.
You eat for a while in companionable quiet, then he takes a breath.
“I’m planning on demoting Spock. He has the worst timing.” He quirks one of those half smiles at you, the kind that make you melt a little, but then his expression goes serious.
“My position on this ship… I have to be careful of it. Your training – everyone’s training – tells you to do as I say. So, if I’m… interested… in someone, usually I try to set that aside.” He puts his fork down and shakes his head a little. “Clearly I didn’t do well on that score with you. But… I would have to be sure, before I truly pursue anything, that a person isn’t saying yes because of my rank.”
“I told myself that flirting was just a joke between us. That you don’t get involved with your crew. I want it to be real, but when people assumed that it was… It spooked me for a moment there.” You turn to face him more fully, to look into his eyes.
“I understand what it means for you to be Captain Pike. I understand that the Enterprise comes before me. But I felt that—that pull toward you, long before whatever this was started. It’s not your rank, your position of authority, Chris, it’s you.”
Chris stands from his chair, reaching a hand out to you. You stand and take it, his fingers warm in yours, and let him draw you to him, feeling the press of his body all along yours. You stare into his eyes, and see a wonder there that you’re sure he sees in your eyes too – the knowledge that you can finally have this. But then your eyes drift shut as he kisses you, gently, unhurried, savouring the moment.
You part for just a second, and then it gets passionate as you kiss him back, one hand on his chest, while his other hand finds its way to your lower back, holding you tighter. Your lips part, his tongue finds yours and you taste him, and you can’t get enough.
“So I know your shots are up to date,” Chris says, voice gravelly, when you pause for breath. “Would you like to take this to the bedroom?”
“Yes please.” You don’t care if you sound needy; you just want him. He takes your hand again and leads the way.
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You are not quite sure what happened to your dress. You remember Chris helping you take it off last night, but quite how it got this crumpled is a bit of a mystery. You lift it up from the floor, and try to shake it out, not very successfully.
“Breakfast is served,” Chris says, looking fresh and neat in his uniform, not a hair out of place. No evidence to be seen of your activities last night, or how little sleep he may have had. “Oh, did you want a new uniform? I can synthesise one.”
“No need. I’ll have time to change in my quarters before shift.” You pull it on and try to smooth your skirt. “Breakfast?”
“Waffles. And real maple syrup. I know this little farm—”
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It isn’t far from Pike’s quarters to the turbolift, and the officers in the corridor nod and smile to you as usual. Until you meet Lieutenant Ortegas.
She looks you up and down, taking in your creased dress with a raised brow and a sly smile. “I saw the duty rosters; I know you’re on alpha today. So… you get lucky last night?”
You try to hide your smile, but you feel too good – you don’t really want to.
“Yes, Erica, I did.”
Everyone will know, but you don’t mind. You and Chris are at the start of something special.
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Common Knowledge 3
Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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Your next study session is a special excursion. Paranoid about your talkative professor and his distractions, you opt instead for the off-campus smoothie shop you passed a dozen times but never went into. You order a simple strawberry banana concoction and claim a table in the corner for your mission.
You take your laptop out and the giant tome with a cluster of tabs poking out from the pages. You've narrowed down your possible topics. You don't know why you're so indecisive. You just feel entirely out of your depth. Ask you about a Hapsburg or even a Roman emperor, and you're good, but gods and goddesses, giants and beasts... You just can't nail it down.
The coming and going of customers is steady but not disturbing. Most enter, order, and promptly leave. The average patron has a gym bag and appears to be on their way to workout.
You peek up now and again but quickly lose yourself in your research. There's something to say about the plight of the feminine figures in Norse mythos. It surely seems a tragic existence. Somehow, you can relate.
You flip to a tab and lean in to read. You reach for your smoothie blindly and take a sip as your eyes flit back to your laptop. A cup lands heavy on your table and a figure falls in the chair across from you. As if they know you, as if they belong there.
It's that man! With the blindingly white eyes and similarly shocking hair. Hair pokes out above the vee of his peculiar tunic and his hair is wave with a sheen of sweat. You give him a confused look and flutter through the pages, ignoring him. You won't ask how he found you, might be a coincidence, but you'd rather he get the clue and leave you alone.
He reaches over and stops your search. He pushes the pages flat and growls, "you wrote in it?"
You squint at him, curling your lip. You shrug. You bought the book. Who cares if you added a few annotations in the margins.
"How could you write in it?" He sneers.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Don't be stupid," he tilts his head, "I know you remember me."
"Mmmm," you drone dully and slide the book from under his hand.
Silence. Still and suffocating. You have nothing to say to him and it seems he approached without a clear plan. You really don't understand what his end goal would be. He can go find the book somewhere else.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" He hisses.
"Excuse me?" You glare at him above your laptop.
"Sure seems like you don't."
"It's a history project. I can figure it out."
"Hmph," he wrinkles his nose, "well, I am a font of knowledge on the subject."
"Really? What are your credentials?"
"I don't need a piece of paper to tell me what I know," he scoffs.
"So you know nothing?"
"Watch it, girl."
"Or what?" You blink, shocked by the interlaced threat.
He laughs darkly and crosses his arms, "you think you're smart."
You shake your head, "I'm studying, so... that's the goal."
He shifts and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He watches you as you ignore him for the blinking cursor on the screen.
"When a man talks to you, are you usually so rude?" He asks.
You nearly recoil. You give a scoff of your own. What year is this?
"I don't know you," your eyes dart up to meet his, "and I don't want to know you. Why would you even--"
"I'm not ugly," he says, a jarring statement. You wouldn't argue, he isn't hideous; on the outside. "And I offered to help. So..."
"Yeah, but you're not nice either."
You shut the book and snap closed your laptop. If he won't go, you will. You stand and he does too. He's big. You might be tall but he's a brick wall.
"Where are you going?" He asks, almost stupidly. That stern, empty cadence of him is almost robotic.
"Away from you."
"Why?"
You furrow your brows. Really? Is it not obvious?
"I'm talking to you. Asking you questions about yourself. It's small talk."
You let out a long 'um', not able to come up with anything else.
"Geralt," he offers his hand in an overly formal manner.
You can't respond. You don't understand what the hell is going on? You might be a social hermit but this man is entirely inept.
"I don't meet many people interested in mythology, but--"
"I'm not interested, dude."
He sputters, "why?"
"Because... you're a jerk," you shove your things in your bag and zip it up. "Wow, are you really that oblivious?"
You see his eyes scanning as he thinks. It's almost like he's never reflected on his own behaviour. You can't imagine why he is still looking for a friend.
"So... you're not going to tell me your name?" He asks at last.
"Bro, I'm about to scream," you warn as you shoulder your bag, "just get out of my way."
You swipe your smoothie off the table and take a step forward. He doesn't move at first. He stares you down as you steel yourself, glancing at the employees behind the counter.
"What school do you go to?" He asks.
Your head nearly explodes. You have never been so lost in a conversation. You grip the strap of your bag tight and set your jaw.
"Move," you grit out, heart racing.
He pulls his chin back as if surprised. He steps away and waves you out from behind the table. You slowly walk forward, swallowing as you try not to shake.
"I'll figure it out," he mutters.
"What?" You spin back to him.
"I said," he turns to face you, sitting again and taking his cup to sip on the straw. He pops his mouth off, "have a good day."
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serendipitous-posts · 3 months
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Au where the prophecy 'a half blood of the eldest gods, will reach Sixteen against all odds' is actually referring to the actual three eldest gods: Hestia, Demeter, Hera. The youngest three, The Big Three, assume the prophecy must be about them if this hero is so important. Misunderstandings ensue.
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taranza-stan · 2 months
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??? Did Germany ever do something to Poland????
DID. DID GERMANY EVER DO SOMETHING TO POLAND????? HELLO?????
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just-a-blog-for-polls · 4 months
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The most known countries around the world includes ones like USA, UK, France, Germany, Russia, China, Japan, India, Egypt and Australia
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hecho-a-mano · 1 year
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PSA on cleaning products.
Whatever you do, never mix cleaning products, they can easily create gases which can easily kill you if you do so
A common example is mixing ammonia (including non cleaning products like urine) and bleach. It will create chloramine gas, which at the very least it can burn up your lungs pretty badly.
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gillipop-plus · 8 days
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i have seen the tommyinnit bicurious clip and the joe hills scott smajor homophobia clip so now i feel like i understand
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lazybtchneedstostudy · 4 months
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I would say I am a generally speaking very educated person, but sometimes I have moments, where I ask myself if I’m very stupid.
• I constantly confuse Parthenon and Pantheon, even though I’ve been to the Pantheon.
• I somehow thought that Raphael’s school of Athens was in Athens, even though I know Raphael was an Italian painter and it makes no sense for this painting to be in Athens. But since i am stupid, imagine my confusion when I was standing in front of it in Rome.
• I read countless books about the Roman Empire and the Gladiator fights, but had to stand in the Colosseum to find out that it isn’t completely round, but oval.
• I just confused Berlinanle (film festival in Berlin) with Biennale (art festival in Venice).
Why am i like that? T.T
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lumax-mayclair · 2 years
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Fezco is, without a doubt, a wrap-his-arms-around-his-girl-from-the-back no matter who’s around type of guy.
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Chapter 7: The Ruling on Silence and Injustice4 The third hadithis from Ayesha (ra) who asked, “Will we be destroyed even if we have righteous people amongst us?” The Messenger (ﷺ) said, “Yes, if filth (base sins) becomes rampant.”Thus, the moral of all three of these ahadithis: if people do not speak up when evil is being committed, everyone will suffer.
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sedlex · 1 year
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fiveholegoal · 2 years
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Nate Mack doesn’t know why the NHL trophy is called the Stanley Cup…he doesn’t know who Lord Stanley is.
‘I should probably know that.’ 💀
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Common Knowledge 4
Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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With your thesis proposal submitted and marked, the real work lies ahead of you. You’ve claimed your spot in the library, a stack of cue cards with your arguments laid out in columns. It’s the easiest way to sort out your information and narrow down your key arguments. It’s a bit messy but you like the visual diagram to parse out your own thoughts.
You receive a few shaded looks from those who pass by looking for a spot of their own. You don’t mind moving over if they do want to sit but none approach. You bend over the table and switch two cards. You’re standing, circling the table as you’re swept up in getting just the right flow.
You back up and hum. You grab another card, jotting down a new point to add and a sudden slam makes you jump. The thump of the large book on the table sends the cards scattering in a whirlwind. You sputter as you look up at the figure across from you.
You can’t hide your surprise. It’s been a week since the smoothie shop incident and not close to long enough. That man stands on the other side of the table smirking, his white eyes eerily calm but smug. What are the odds he’s a student here?
You shake your head and roll your eyes. You step forward and start gathering up the cards. Your dorm room bed would be just as good as a table. As you reach to swipe up a card, he grabs it first and reads your writing, letting out a scoff.
“Hmm, how cute,” he muses, “you’re trying.”
You ignore him. Whatever, he can keep the cards. You close up your books and slip them into your bag. He plants his hands on the table and leans forward, gaze boring into you.
“Running away again?”
“Do you not know how to take a hint?”
“As much as you,” he counters, “I just wanted to show you that I found a copy of my own.”
You glance at the book in the middle of the table and furrow your brow. Really? This is some weird battle you don’t want to fight. You blow out between your lips and keep tidying up your things. Your laptop is closed and slid away before you can nab it.
You grip the edge and try to pull it from his grasp. He easily dislodges it and tucks it under his thick arm. You hiss and look around, flabbergasted. You turn your frustration around and reach for that coveted book. He stretches his other arm in front of you, blocking you as he looms closer.
“Not so fast,” he holds his large hand up, “would you stop and listen?”
“I’m not interested in listening to you,” you puff out, “give me my computer.”
“Would you let me say what I came to say–”
“Bro, no. How did you even find– you know what? Don’t care. It’s weird. And creepy. Give me my computer and leave me alone. I’ll scream.”
“Relax, you’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? You want to see dramatic–”
“Would you stop?” His voice rises, drawing looks from a few other students and some hushes. His throat bobs as he peers around, “I’m trying to apologise, alright? I thought…” his eyes meet yours with almost a sheepish tint, “I’d buy you a coffee and we could talk about mythology.”
Your lashes flutter as you try to keep your eyes from rolling so far back they get stuck. You don’t know that you’ve ever met anyone so oblivious. College has introduced you to several characters but nothing like him.
Your mouth falls open and you shake your head. You step forward and latch onto your laptop. He lets you take it. You’re very aware he could keep it from you easily. For all his flaws, he is clearly in good shape.
“I’m trying not to laugh in your face,” you back up and put the book into your knapsack, “so I’ll be very honest and clear with you. You are the most rude, obnoxious person I’ve ever encountered. Free coffee couldn’t even make me spend a single second with you.”
He grits his teeth as his jaw squares, the cleft deepening as he tilts his head. His frustration is laced in confusion. His eyes search you.
“Oh,” is all he manages to get out.
“Right, so, goodbye.”
You swing your bag over your shoulder and snatch your jacket from the back of the chair. You go to step by him and he moves with you. You are actually about to scream.
“Can’t we start over?” He asks.
How many ways can you say no?
You look left and right and your eyes meet an unexpected pair. Oh, you’re not sure if that’s good. Professor Halfdansson raises his hand to give a small wave as he diverts his strut in your direction. You clamp your lips together and turn back to the man in front of you.
“I don’t think so,” you say bluntly.
“Ah, studying are we?” Halfdansson approaches, coming up perpendicular to you and Geralt.
“Uh,” you look between them as the professor gives a thoughtful look to the other man. “Just leaving.”
“This is a friend?” He wonders.
“No,” you answer as Geralt says “yes.”
You have to hold back a snort. You don’t get this. Any of it. Neither of these men seem to have any sort of self-awareness. At least not a concept of reality.
You bite your tongue and rein in the smart retorts flashing through your mind. You make yourself smile, or at least try to muster one. You take a deep breath.
“I have to go,” you say crisply. “Excuse me.”
Geralt is kept at bay by the presence of your professor, though Halfdansson appears astounded by your abrupt dismissal. You’ll have to apologise in class but most importantly, you need to get this goddamn paper done. Without a man hovering around and distracting you.
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