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leohtttbriar · 8 months

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encrusted gem stuff // of the mist

(Whereas) It has always been assumed, by those with the capacity to do so, that if pain could be controlled, (therefore) any being would control it. By all practical accounts, this assumption bore out logically. Pain was after all an adaptation of survival—a message communicating, in vernacular, things like ‘do not touch that’ and ‘eat.’ But one might grow curious. In an alternate universe, T'Pring goes into pon farr and Spock cannot help her through it. Evidently, the way around the biological mandate, this time, is by means of a hunt and a poem. And Nyota.

written for startrekfemslashweek2023: "learning your language" prompt, because this fic is about uhura.

(ao3 link)

#t'pura #t'pring x uhura #star trek #snw #uhura #startrekfemslashweek2023 #my fic

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batset · 2 months

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Femslash February: Day 23 - <3

#femslash february #t'pura #t'pring #uhura x t'pring #star trek tos #tos uhura

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arsoneywrites · 1 year

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so you remember that spirk royalty au i’ve been working on forever? chapter two now up AND i have a writing sideblog now! look at me!

#arsoney writes #arsoneys st stuff #k/s #spirk #royalty au #fanfiction #you saw me when i was invisible chapter 2 #princess diaries au #jim kirk #captain kirk #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #nyota uhura #t'pring #uhura x t'pring #bones mccoy

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female-fogbank · 9 months

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Ok! I'm ready for more SNW ships and any square that doesn't have a red dot and new planet square is currently being written.

So, send me a prompt as my smut writing muscle is ready for a workout 💪💪

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terapsina · 2 years

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Okay, so the thing about how T'Pring and Spock are actually almost but not quite perfect for each other. And why I find them both sweet and kind of sad, was perfectly shown at the end of this episode when she and Spock had their conversation.

It's that no, Spock doesn't have feelings for Nurse Chapel (he really does seem to love T'Pring during this point in time) but he's not INCAPABLE of having feelings for Nurse Chapel.

And I think he knows that. It would be easier if that was true, if he would only be able to picture himself building a life and a family with a Vulcan. But it's simply... not the case.

And I know he hasn't accepted that yet (partially because right now he loves T'Pring and is absolutely picturing a future with her, and partially because he's got LOADS of internalized stigma against the fact he's half human). But it's one of those things that showcase how love just... isn't always enough. And won't be.

Meanwhile T'Pring is really fighting here to see and accept Spock's half-human nature (occasionally in a way that makes me cringe, occasionally in a way that's actually rather sweet, occasionally in a way that is downright hilarious). And I LIKE that she's trying. But she's also putting in more effort into their relationship than Spock is and that's kind of sad.

Actually, it ironically feels like T'Pring is a little ahead of Spock in accepting Spock's nature, while Spock is still trying to be a "Good Vulcan".

They're not meant for each other. We know that. But they very nearly could have been. And that makes for a very effective and engaging story that I'm enjoying quite a lot.

#t'pring #spock #spock x t'pring #t'pring x spock #star trek #strange new worlds #1.07 #terapsina rambles #okay just to make myself clear i've never watched the original series so i'm not really stuck on spock/kirk as the ultimate ship #(though i've certainly seen enough to find them cute enough)#but on the other hand in the retcon movieverse i shipped spock/uhura quite a bit #ultimately though i guess i don't really have an otp for spock at all and so am enjoying anything you throw my way #(personal headcanon wise as to his sexuality i think my take on spock would be demisexual and biromantic...#which no one probably cares but i might as well mention)#terapsina's star trek rambles #terapsina's snw rambles

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discoveryfemslashfortnight · 2 years

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About - FAQ - Directory - Ao3

Our fan event for all women of Star Trek and their femslash relationships starts at the end of this month!

There will be daily prompts for inspiration, but you can also create to your own ideas! Anything goes - art, fic, meta, moodboards, cosplay photos, podfics and more.

If you can, please sign up as a beta reader to support the event, and of course reblog this post to spread the word!

This Femslash Fortnight is open to all Star Trek fandoms and will begin on Saturday, July 23rd, and end on Sunday, August 7th, 2022!

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thenorsiest · 2 years

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Uhura x T'Pring and DaForge for the ship bingo <3

Red is Uhura x T'Pring! a top tier ship. The only thing I adore more is... well, would you like to guess? ;)

Blue is Daforge- also a top tier ship. I really do think they would be adorable but my personal preference is Data being aro/ace and Geordi getting that epic romance he always sought. Love their dynamic, love their intimacy. <3

#Ship Bingo #Daforge #Uhura x t'pring #uhura #t'pring #star trek #Geordi #Thank you for the ask!#ships for:#trek #wwdits #ofmd

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spoofymcgee · 1 year

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finally got over my writer's block enough to drop 2.7k words of hurt/comfort uhura/t'pring talking about how pon farr is kind of messed up, actually. enjoy!

(warning: discussions of non consensual situations, specifically in that pon farr isn't something vulcans really get to consent to)

read on ao3

The sofa is soft. Nyota had requested it specifically from the quartermaster, had dragged T’Pring along–nominally to help her pick it out but really just to spend a couple of hours together as Nyota thoroughly vetted every single sofa option available and picked out the one she claimed was best for napping on. She had decided on a plush, low option covered in soft, velvety grey fabric.

T’Pring knows the sofa is soft. She has sat on it nearly every day for the past ten months, has smoothed out the swirls in the fabric more times than she can count.

Despite this, and despite the hand she’s had running over the cushion to her left for the past four minutes, she cannot feel it.

It is a curious sensation, this disconnect from her body. The first time it happened, she was eight and thoroughly overwhelmed by the sensation of having her mind tied to another’s, among the fury of not being allowed to choose her own bondmate and the dehydration borne of her refusal to drink in protest of being ferried out to the sacred sands for the ceremony.

It had seemed like she’d floated out of her body, left it curled up in her bed and gone… elsewhere. Her sister had found her hours later, on the verge of having to be hospitalized, and all she’d gotten for her trouble was a lecture about logic from their mother.

She’d told T’Maia the next time it happened, but her sister had been entirely unsuccessful in convincing their mother to get T’Pring examined by a medical professional, so the episodes had continued well into her adulthood.

Nowadays she has words like ‘dissociation’ and ‘derealization’. She has people who will help her if she asks for it and a therapist she can talk to after the fact.

She doesn’t talk to her mother much anymore.

Right now, though, T’Pring moves her head slowly to find that her other hand is still secured around her mug of tea. She thinks the sensation is uncomfortable. Logically, it should be: the mug is not heatproof and she has been holding it for several minutes. Under normal circumstances, she would have set it down when she got to the couch, but her limbs feel oddly stiff, and she can’t seem to get them to listen to her.

The doors to their quarters slide open and T’Pring jumps, slamming back into her body at startling speed. The tea sloshes over the rim and onto her hand. It burns, and she bites her bottom lip to keep the tears from spilling, which only serves to drive her closer to crying.

“Hey babe,” Nyota says blithely, shucking her jacket to hang it on the rack by the door. “Ugh, you won’t believe what the Lothian diplomats said to the captain today. It wasn’t even his fault this time! Everything he did was textbook perfect according to the packet they sent us. I swear, it’s like they think we won’t notice if–oh, sweetheart.”

Having hung her jacket and slipped off her shoes, Nyota’s come close enough to see the way T’Pring’s hand is reddening around the cup. She drops to her knees in front of the sofa and takes the mug out of her hand gently, setting it on the table and mopping off her hand with the edge of her undershirt sleeve.

“...Thank you,” T’Pring says, barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” Nyota says, getting back to her feet. “I–can you give me five minutes, or is this an immediate kind of situation? Because I literally ran into a yeoman on a coffee run for Sciences on my way back and he was getting Hadrian tea for somebody and–yeah. But if you need me now, I can definitely wait.”

T’Pring sniffs the air and–well, she was raised better than to wrinkle her nose, but the corners of her mouth tighten. Sue her, she’s having a bad day.

“Please go shower,” she says quietly, squeezing Nyota’s fingers. “It can wait a few minutes.”

Nyota squeezes back and nods wordlessly, lifting her hand and brushing a gentle kiss to her knuckles before going.

T’Pring considers staying on the sofa, but–she’s not supposed to sit still when she’s starting to disassociate, so she pulls herself up and carries her mug into the kitchen, spilling it down the drain and focusing on the splash. She should really save it, as it’s organically grown in Kha’lar back on T’Khasi, but she knows she won’t drink it anyway, and it will do no good to let it sit.

She washes the mug, dragging her fingertips over the roughness of the sponge, and then dries it, listening to the rasp of the towel on ceramic.

When she’s done, she goes back to the living room and puts on one of the trashy Earth pop punk songs that Spock has had playing through his head at all hours recently, courtesy of his bondmate. She lets a few strains float through the door between their minds and chases away the joy she feels at the flash of irritation it gets her.

She does simple stretches until Nyota comes back into the living room, wrapped in her softest sweater and fuzzy pajama pants and carrying T’Pring’s favorite blanket. She drops onto the sofa and frowns at T’Pring’s laptop, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Spock has been bothering me with it recently,” T’Pring explains, reaching over to shut it off. “I wanted to return the favor, and besides, it is a good stimulant.”

“It’s one of Jim’s favorites when he’s particularly annoyed,” Nyota says absently. “I’ll have to talk to him about it.” She shakes herself lightly, turning her gaze back to T’Pring. “Not now, though. You wanna sit?”

T’Pring hesitates. “You have had a difficult day, and–”

Nyota rolls her eyes. “And I’m still going to be here to support you. If I needed a raincheck, I would tell you.”

T’Pring nods slowly and crosses the room, sitting next to her and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders when Nyota nudges it into her lap.

“It is about… next month,” she says after a long pause, her eyes trained on the coffee table. A swell of frustration rises in her sternum at the emotion leaking into her voice, and at the fact that she cannot manage to talk clearly about this subject, even with Nyota, who she intends to spend the rest of her life with. That is the problem with cultural taboos.

“With Pon Farr?” Nyota asks, and T’Pring nods. “Baby, I promise, I’m–” she cuts herself off, drawing back. “Nope. It’s not that, is it?”

Something warm blooms under T’Pring’s breastbone. No one before Nyota has ever trusted T’Pring to voice her insecurities, understood that she may not be entirely unshakable in her convictions but she asks for reassurance when she needs it.

“No,” T’Pring agrees, pulling the blanket a little tighter and reaching for Nyota’s hand. She takes it without a second thought, twining their fingers together in a way that steals T’Pring’s breath every time. “You have told me that you are fine with it. I trust you. It’s–” she breaks off, grimacing slightly and earning a gentle squeeze for her troubles.

“It’s okay,” Nyota says quietly.

T’Pring nods and takes a moment to center herself, draws a few deep breaths, and starts again. “Since I was too small to see the kitchen countertops I have been taught to control myself, to either process my emotions in the moment or store them away for later and to never allow them to dictate my actions. I have learnt to make control a second skin, to be aware of every expression and movement, and to keep my composure in all situations.”

“Okay,” Nyota says. “And that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

T’Pring shrugs. “I would not ascribe a moral value to it. It is necessary if I do not want to rip off someone’s head for taking the last apple in the fruit bowl.”

Nyota nods slowly. “Alright. So that’s not the problem.”

T’Pring sighs. “The issue is that I am not allowed the choice. Already, I am failing to maintain my usual level of restraint. Two of my staff have noticed and approached me out of concern. It will only get worse as the event approaches, and then I will have to lock myself in a room with one of the people I care about the most in the entire universe while the vestiges of my control are stolen from me and I devolve to my basest instincts.”

Nyota takes a minute to process that. “Ah. Just–if I’m getting this right; it’s scary that you’re having trouble controlling yourself, because you’ve been doing so your whole life, and you’re worried that the person you are without that is–”

“Not… good,” T’Pring finishes, curling further in on herself. “I do not think I will hurt you, Nyota. Even the most sordid places of my mind know that you are–you’re–”

“I’m not worried about that,” Nyota reassures her, rubbing circles with her thumb along the back of T’Pring’s hand. “I trust you. And I’m sorry that you’re having a difficult time. It can’t be fun, slowly losing your control like that. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It is not,” T’Pring agrees, leaning onto Nyota’s shoulder. “You are helping. I imagine I will need to start meditating more. I. It is frustrating, is all.”

“Yeah, it definitely sounds like it,” Nyota says, pressing her cheek to the crown of T’Pring’s head. “Maybe I could pull the staff you work most closely with aside and have a quick chat with them? Nothing too in depth, just that you’re going through a difficult time and you might be a little more tetchy.”

T’Pring bites her lip, hesitating. Logically, it would be the correct thing to do. Her staff should be given advance warning if their superior is to be more touchy for a significant period of time–it is an accommodation, she thinks her therapist would say, just like any other she would make for her staff. Emotionally, shame sours roots of her teeth at the mere thought of anyone having to treat her delicately for fear she might snap.

“I suppose,” she says reluctantly.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Nyota tells her, squeezing her fingers. “You know, I think you’re so cool? I’ve felt what it feels like to be you,” T’Pring’s cheeks heat at the reminder of their first mind meld, which she’d messed up thoroughly enough to metaphorically dunk Nyota face-first into her maelstrom of emotions. “And it’s really fucking hard, babe. You’re so strong, all of the time. I don’t know anyone else who could do that and be a functional person.”

“Spock,” T’Pring points out, and Nyota snorts.

“He absolutely doesn’t count. He spent all of lunch gazing dreamily at Jim and then had to horf down his food in five minutes so that he wouldn’t pass out on shift,” she says.

That startles a laugh out of T’Pring, and she claps a hand over her mouth, pulling away in time to catch the warm glint in Nyota’s eye.

“Anyway,” she continues, clasping T’Pring’s hand between both of her own. “The next couple of weeks are going to suck for you. You’re allowed to ask people to be aware of that.”

T’Pring nods, breathing through the relief of weight sloughing off her shoulders, leaving behind stinging indentations. “As usual, you are correct.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says graciously. “I’ve got a shift off tomorrow morning; I’ll accompany you down and pull a couple of people out to talk. Other than that, is there anything else?”

T’Pring opens her mouth to say no, and then shuts it again, mulling over her emotions now that the most pressing of them is gone. “I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t we put on that new Mirian sitcom and you can think about it for a bit?” Nyota suggests. “I’ll get you a drink and pull out my knitting and you can let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.”

“That sounds nice,” T’Pring says. “Do we have mango juice left?”

“I think so, let me go check.”

She moves to get up, but T’Pring doesn’t let go of her hand, squeezing it when Nyota looks back at her. “Nyota? Thank you.”

They watch four and a half episodes before T’Pring reaches for the remote. The holographic screen freezes on an image of a heartfelt conversation between two people T’Pring thinks might be an estranged father and son, but she hasn’t been following the plot.

“Of course, babe,” she says, bending down to press a kiss to T’Pring’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a sec. I love you.”

***

Nyota finishes her row and sets down her knittings, turning expectantly to her. “You’ve got it.”

“I believe so,” T’Pring says, mulling it over. “I think I am–angry.”

“M’kay. At anything in particular?”

T’Pring taps her fingers on her glass, listening to her nails click. “I don’t get to choose,” she says. “Not just regarding losing my control, but. Due to some leftover, hundred year old instinct, in three weeks I have to either have intercourse, commit a murder or burn to death from the inside out. It is not… fair.”

“You don’t get to consent,” Nyota says, drawing back slightly. “Oh. Oh, honey.”

“No, it’s–” T’Pring’s words tangle together on her tongue, refusing to come out as she wants them. “It isn’t that I don’t want to, just–I am glad it is you. I just wish I had a choice.”

Nyota clicks her tongue. “No, yeah, that’s really distressing. I’m so sorry, T’Pring. I didn’t even think of that.”

T’Pring shrugs. “I cannot blame you. I didn’t, either.”

Nyota bites her lip. “Fuck, babe, what do I even–” she breaks off, squeezing T’Pring’s hand. “God. Okay. Let me think for a minute.”

They sit quietly for a while, Nyota gently pulling T’Pring’s head into her lap and combing her fingers through her hair until her eyes shut. The ship hums almost inaudibly around them, and the vents open up as the air starts to cycle.

“I think,” Nyota says finally, “And stop me if this isn’t helpful, because I don’t want to speak for you, but I think that something both of our cultures have in common is that they tend to place a pretty heavy emotional weight on sex.”

T’Pring hums, shifting to lie on her back and look up at Nyota.

“And that’s not necessarily… wrong,” Nyota continues. “But it doesn’t have to be right either. It took me a long time to learn that for me, personally, sex doesn’t have to be the most intense, significant thing ever. It can be something I do to make my partner feel good, or to help relieve stress, or just because I’ve had a bad day and want physical reassurance in that way. And obviously it’s still really distressing not to be able to choose, but. I guess my point is just that it can be a tool, whether to help with a headache or to satisfy ridiculous, ancient instincts.”

T’Pring tips her head back, rolling her shoulders as she mulls the words over. “That is… incredibly helpful. I’ve never considered it in that manner.”

Nyota shrugs. “Again, it’s just my perspective on it. I don’t want to discount your feelings, because it makes a lot of sense that you’re angry. This situation really sucks for you, and whatever emotions you have about it are entirely understandable. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

T’Pring gazes up at her, love swelling under her lungs and cutting off her breath. “I–can I, please?” she asks, nudging at her bond with Nyota.

“Sure,” Nyota says, bemused, and T’Prings pulls aside the curtain between their minds and floods her with the pure adoration filling her chest.

Nyota just grins, leaning down to kiss her and whisper ‘I love you too’ against her lips, as though she hasn’t just spent hours showing it. T’Pring levers herself up so she can sit in Nyota’s lap, and get a better angle to grab Nyota’s bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently.

Nyota hums, deep in her chest, and T’Pring thinks it’s the best sound she’s heard all day.

#t'pring x nyota #t'pring/nyota #t'pring #star trek #tos #star trek fanfiction #my writing #pon farr #gonna go to sleep good night babes #nyota uhura

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leohtttbriar · 5 months

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re-watched "the immunity syndrome" tos episode and a lot of call the midwife episodes and felt and thought many things--

so this is just a little long-distance/established relationship t'pura mindspeaking about coffee, ore extraction, and poetry scene from a fic i'm working on that's really more about the miraculous nature of that thing called medicine as it relates to miraculous space amoebas:

Nyota woke up before her alarm, sighed, and closed her eyes again. She ignored the pressing early-morning time on the clock, the sounds of the ship, the rustles of the forced-air, and she dripped into intangible darkness…

A sweet bell rang. T’Pring lay beside her, curled on her side, one long-fingered hand extended in the space between them. She did not smile but her attention was fixed—on Nyota. Nyota’s whole chest fill with redness and blood and she grinned into the fabric of her pillow.

“Hello, love,” she said.

T’Pring breathed deeply and then said on the exhale, “Nyota.”

She sank deeper into the comfort her bed, ears trained on T’Pring’s voice, who continued: “It is time for you to get out of bed.”

“I don’t think I’m quite brave enough this morning.”

“Why not? Is there an away-mission? I did not realize there was one planned—”

“No, something far worse and more dangerous than an away mission,” interrupted Nyota before T’Pring could be begin to speculate and strategize on efforts for Nyota’s survival.

“What is it, Nyota? You must tell me.”

“I ran out of coffee.”

T’Pring stared at her without blinking.

“You ran out of coffee 6.34 standard weeks ago, Nyota.”

“And it remains a trial, T’Pring.”

“You reported that your new replicator codes for a freshly-brewed cup of coffee have much improved the replicated product.”

“Not enough for me to brave the world beyond this bed,” said Nyota, sounding sadder and more pathetic about it than she meant to.

T’Pring, evidently, noticed.

“I believe you are the most courageous person I know.”

“You have to say that. I’m your wife.”

“I am a Vulcan,” said T’Pring, a fondness and softness resonating across the space between them. “I say that which is logical to say.”

“I know your ways,” said Nyota, wanting to scoot closer to T’Pring, to drag the tip of her nose along the sharp outline of T’Pring’s cheekbone.

“Then you know I love you,” said T’Pring, using a clunky human-phrase of affection, which was always a thrill. “And that I would present you with non-replicated coffee the moment the opportunity presented itself.”

“And I would thank you for such a gift in every way I knew how,” answered Nyota, her heart beating out a sweet ache.

T’Pring granted Nyota her attention for a few moments more, before saying with all her sturdy gentleness, “It is time for you to prepare for your working day.”

“Have you made more progress with the matter-manipulating--with the metal?”

“You are attempting to delay the inevitable.”

“Obviously. Have you, though? Made progress?”

“My song has influenced the temperature of the ore—I have discovered that with the right directional frequencies I can influence the metallic deposits to melt from the stone, though the samples solidify immediately after extraction and thus exhaust my mind with their vibrational rigidity.”

She directed an image into her conscious-mind: a crisp memory. Through the image Nyota could hear the shadow of T'Pring's singing and witness as the immense yet highly controlled overtones and undertones of her resonance collided with the matter of the cave walls in which she was singing, causing the cave walls to weep silver.

"You have made progress," said Nyota. T'Pring's study in music and consciousness-projection was improving at a rapid pace.

"I have learned that the necessary focus is easier after speaking to you."

"How so?"

"You hold many concepts and realities together in your thinking-mind when you translate," said T'Pring. "I strive for that logic, above all else. You remind me of it."

"I once translated the language of these nebulous beings," said Nyota, feeling (with no small amount of bemusement) T'Pring's mind spring into action, struggling to follow the almost non-sequitor. "Ones living in a nebula, I mean--they weren't cloudy, physically. Maybe. I'm not being figurative."

"What a change of habit."

"Quiet," grinned Nyota. "Anyway, these beings were unlike any creature we've come across before or since. We still don't understand them--how they work, where their bodies are, from what sort of ...world they evolved. But they communicated all the same."

"I induce that you are going to utilize the figurative very soon."

"I'm not going that far." Nyota laughed. "I'm not about to suggest that rock or certain metals speak a language, which you are now learning. No, I know your study of acoustics is far more...physical than something like language implies. I just wanted to say that, it's not rational, but... well..." She drifted off, not sure exactly what she wanted to say, too cozy for a thesis statement.

"Even if it does not present as rational," said T'Pring. "It is illogical to assume a phenomenon lacks reason."

"Yes, exactly" said Nyota, feeling much like she did sleeping against T'Pring's chest, under her arm, nearly a year ago. "The image of the stone leaking solid silver--the images that penetrated my mind, sent by the nebula-creatures--they're a bit fantastical, aren't they? They break open the whole universe, in a way."

"I cannot imagine that you perceive the universe as closed."

Nyota shrugged in agreement.

Then T'Pring made a small sign against her forehead (a 'U' hand-sign she had learned from Nyota a while ago that she refused to use correctly--a sign of their shared name displayed above their place of joining) and then hummed a small tune: a morning song, one meant to present the argument for waking once more. Nyota warmed at both gestures.

“You know, I’ve written a poem about these moments,” said Nyota. “I don’t like saying goodbye as often as we do.”

“We are as one,” said T’Pring. “We do not say goodbye. Tell me your poem.”

“I can’t do that. It’s not finished.”

“Then tell me a different one. One already written.”

“A different one? Or one that you’ve already heard before?”

“You know my answer.”

A flood of affection ran through Nyota’s throat and onto her tongue. There was one poem she had translated from the original French to the Vulcan-mind-language that had become a sort of prayer between the pair of them. She indulged T’Pring in a recitation every second she could, adjusting prosody and emphasis every time, trying to find the version that would so perfectly capture how material the words felt—the physicality they invoked. She breathed in and said: “You bathe your rocky ornaments in mists, / let roselight bleed into your cracks.”

T’Pring’s attention deepened on Nyota as she recited.

“The Star slowly mounts: his light drenches you. / The Star-King of two worlds, Earth and firmament, / sifts gold dust over your skin / as a hand strokes a sleeping lover’s hair. / Above your blunt peak, a pink satin sky / cups the rising slice of fire.”

She placed her hand on the duvet next to T’Pring’s, where her nerves vibrated just under her alien skin.

“Oh, if I could be a lark and kiss your crest / with my wing— / if I could ride a horse to your distant slope,” Nyota felt the images emerge like a touch in her mind. “Careless, wild, and bold— / if I could wander your caves, sleep in you—/ if I could climb, / forgetting ..." She didn't want to say the last--she felt no pain in that moment, with T'Pring's mind speaking so clearly to hers. "Forgetting my pain.”

She paused, holding her breath, imagining the sunrise on green hills and T’Pring's green face.

“Thank you, Nyota.”

Nyota nodded, absorbed T’Pring’s focus for a countdown of five seconds and then she opened her eyes. Her day had begun. The other half of her small bed was empty.

#star trek #my fic #t'pura #t'pring x uhura #t'pring #uhura

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batset · 3 months

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Femslash February: Day 1!

#femslash february #uhura x t'pring #t'pring #tos uhura #star trek tos #t'pura #here we gooooo

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roleplayfinder · 10 months

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Seeking 21+ novella writers, please be able to write at least 5 good paragraphs. I'm looking for a few fandom rp's at the moment.I also have several original characters for original plot ideas. The first character listed is who inprefer to write as. All characters and writers must be over 18+.

Star Trek:

Sarek x Amanda Greyson

Spock x Nyota Uhura

T'Pring x Nyota Uhura

Vulcan OC x Human OC

ATLA:

Princess Azula x Sokka, Katara, Suki, Yue, or an OC.

Harry Potter:

Narcissa Black x Lily Evans, Alice Fortescue, F!OC

Hermione Granger x Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Fleur Delacour, Bellatrix Lestrange, F!OC

Discord: azula#8183

azula#8183

#twenty-one and over #oc #oc roleplay #oc rp #star trek #star trek roleplay #star trek rp #atla #atla roleplay #atla rp #harry potter #harry potter roleplay #harry potter rp

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female-fogbank · 10 months

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Ready for my next square, who wants me to write a fic 🙌🙌 Just a warning it will take me a few days to do it, but I'll get there 🤣🤣

#star trek: strange new worlds #la'an x spock #spock x la'an #chapel x ortegas #t'pring x spock #t'pring x chapel #pike x una #hemmer x uhura #chapel x m'benga #M'Benga x anyone

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findroleplay · 2 years

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Hey everyone! I'm looking for a advanced literate to novella roleplay partners. All writers and characters will be 18+. I have a few plots for Star Trek and one for the original.

Star Trek: Sarek x Amanda, Spock x Nyota Uhura, or T'Pring x Nyota Uhura. For these I only write as Vulcans. I also have an OC.

Historical: OC x OC Roman Empire plot.

Thank you!

#historical rp #oc rp #original rp #fandomless rp #star trek rp

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roleplay-today · 2 years

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Hey everyone! I'm looking for a advanced literate to novella roleplay partners. All writers and characters will be 18+. I have a few plots for Star Trek and one for the original.

Star Trek: Sarek x Amanda, Spock x Nyota Uhura, or T'Pring x Nyota Uhura. For these I only write as Vulcans. I also have an OC.

Historical: OC x OC Roman Empire plot.

Thank you!

#Star Trek

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