Tomorrows Never Planned
Jan. 7th, 2018 08:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerThe new Blade Runner movie was really good with regard to cinematography. I only took one film class years back, and it's been a while since a movie has had me exclaiming about the use of framing and color (for foreshadowing, even, WHO DOES THAT AWESOME PEOPLE THAT'S WHO) and light and shadow and wow. The plotting was even pretty good, which, with the contrast of the newest Star Wars movie...
Yeah, your money's better spent on the cheap seats or a rental of the new Blade Runner. Just rent the new Star Wars from your local library or watch it free from some service.
(this particular version of this song is chosen because the opening instrumental actually sounds a little ominous which was perfect for this part
the song in general was chosen because it really fits this storyline well. he's a little broken, here. he's looking for one night stands and closeness, but he's not gonna stop being Jim Kirk. the most important lyrics, though, are "I wanna fly I wanna drive I wanna go I wanna be a part of something I don't know" and "I'm wired a different way, I'm not a mistake, I'm not a fake, It's in my DNA" because this is a person who reaches for the stars, who likes being a part of something bigger (Starfleet) even as it's something he doesn't understand because he didn't have that for so long, and the fact that it's innate, he can't fight it, he needs to get it through his dumb head that a) there's not something wrong with him but b) yes, he can learn to control it and live with it and own it like the awesome, crazy person he is)
~dreamer~
Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU
Summary: Their rescue doesn't quite go the way it should...
Word Count: 995
Rating: Teen(??); this is also a dark part, but is probably better than The Enemy Within. Choose to read or not carefully. It's certainly not explicit; if anything I tried to parallel the writing style for The Conscience of a King (TOS), in which you realize horrible things happened but it's almost worse by the fact it doesn't go into huge detail on the subject.
Warnings: threatened noncon
Yeah, your money's better spent on the cheap seats or a rental of the new Blade Runner. Just rent the new Star Wars from your local library or watch it free from some service.
(this particular version of this song is chosen because the opening instrumental actually sounds a little ominous which was perfect for this part
the song in general was chosen because it really fits this storyline well. he's a little broken, here. he's looking for one night stands and closeness, but he's not gonna stop being Jim Kirk. the most important lyrics, though, are "I wanna fly I wanna drive I wanna go I wanna be a part of something I don't know" and "I'm wired a different way, I'm not a mistake, I'm not a fake, It's in my DNA" because this is a person who reaches for the stars, who likes being a part of something bigger (Starfleet) even as it's something he doesn't understand because he didn't have that for so long, and the fact that it's innate, he can't fight it, he needs to get it through his dumb head that a) there's not something wrong with him but b) yes, he can learn to control it and live with it and own it like the awesome, crazy person he is)
~dreamer~
Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU
Summary: Their rescue doesn't quite go the way it should...
Word Count: 995
Rating: Teen(??); this is also a dark part, but is probably better than The Enemy Within. Choose to read or not carefully. It's certainly not explicit; if anything I tried to parallel the writing style for The Conscience of a King (TOS), in which you realize horrible things happened but it's almost worse by the fact it doesn't go into huge detail on the subject.
Warnings: threatened noncon
The only way to properly describe the way the Captain finds them is ‘ambush’. The tricorder readings have begun to give nonsensical results. Chekov reports that there is no location on the planet with a concentration of Dawoathki, which at least means that they are unlikely to attack during this ‘Time of Abandon’. The mist is either naturally occurring, or the weather machines have been set to work without adjustment. In addition, there are no large structures intact enough to identify which, if any, might be a temple, increasing the likelihood that the Captain was purposefully lured away with false words. Spock finds his patience lessening. Probably a side effect of the drug.
They are, on occasion, attacked. The nature of the attacks is…well, to put it delicately, quite different than any other they have encountered. The Da`woat are single-minded, and their obsession gives them strength. Nyota saves the doctor when she examines one to make sure they’re alive and is attacked from behind. Abboud keeps up a steady stream of chatter about what archaeological discoveries might be found on the planet, which seems to be keeping the married ensigns’ attention on their purpose here. Spock has reservations, wondering whether it also serves to alert whatever Da`woat still have their wits about them before coming to the conclusion that irritation may also serve its purpose, and that their continued resistance is more important than their silence. The others are good for morale and a distraction.
One moment, Kirk wasn’t there. The next, he appears. His eyes are wild and dangerous, despite his unclothed state. Of course, the idea that the Captain is at all dangerous might still be the lingering emotional effects of the mind-meld. Fortunately, the other individuals are aware of their duty and raise their phasers at his appearance.
Kirk sneers. “I’m gone for how long and you already think you’re qualified to be giving the orders, Acting Captain?”
“Fire,” Spock orders, not allowing himself to become shaken by Kirk’s childish taunts.
The Captain falls to his knees, but is not unconscious, something rather unprecedented (as far as Spock is aware). One phaser beam on stun, perhaps; there are species that have managed that feat, but six beams is far beyond what a human could endure and remain conscious.
As he glances up, however, there’s a discrepancy in his expression. He still has a sneer, but his eyes—
His eyes are anguished.
Spock could attempt a neck pinch, but that would most likely fail, just as the phasers had. It is possibly a side effect of the aphrodisiac but he is reluctant to make any conclusions without data.
“You do not wish to hurt us, Captain. Let us aid you,” he suggests.
“You only call me Captain when you want to control me. You don’t respect my leadership!” His eyes still beg for assistance, which makes the mockery of one of his smiles that appears next truly diabolical. “But that’s all right,” he purrs. “I haven’t shown off, but I do have the power. I can make you listen. I can make any of you do anything I want, and that’s all right, isn’t it? After all, I am the Captain.”
He smirks, poses, and something in Spock’s brain whites out. Only for a few seconds, he’s fairly certain, but it’s long enough to miss the others dropping their phasers, approaching as if the antidote has lost its potency. A quick catalogue suggests he’s also dropped his phaser, and the way Jim’s smirking touches something primal in his brain, but it’s precisely the fact that he’s part Vulcan that enables him to identify the impulse as something foreign. Fortunately, being Kirk’s second has been excellent training in mastering his own emotions, better than any test Vulcans could devise.
He narrows his own eyes, putting the pieces together. “It would have been logical to mention that I am not the only being aboard the Enterprise struggling with a half-human heritage.” He ignores, for the moment, the fact that this is also true of Ensign Chey and a few other members of Starfleet aboard the starship. It is a gamble, a move Spock would not have considered before making the acquaintance of one James Tiberius Kirk, but the latter’s unique solution to the Kobiyashi Maru simulation and subsequent chess victories despite the likelihood of success have demonstrated the success of such techniques. From the way familiar blue eyes widen, it is a gamble that pays off.
“I can’t—” Kirk bites out, biting his lower lip as one of the married Ensign’s hands reaches out to caress his chest.
Spock nods. “As Captain, you do not have to. I’m here to support you, Kirk, if you will let me do so. In this circumstance, you could benefit from Vulcan training.” He inches closer, wary of any sudden movement, quelling any trace of jealousy at Nyota divesting herself of her clothing or of irritation that the others are not behaving in a manner befitting Starfleet personnel—as he said before, blaming them for things they cannot control is illogical—and for the second time in the day, performs a mind-meld.
The predominant feeling is relief. The second is confusion. He only belatedly registers that it is his own, for he is not being overwhelmed by memories or thoughts and is aware of the distinction between himself and—Jim.
And then he feels hunger. Overwhelming, vast hunger, and understands that this must be the physical state corresponding to the description of ‘starvation’.
‘It is irrational,’ Jim admits, and his mental representation is clothed in a formal Starfleet uniform. ‘I’ve had so much to eat, and I’m still hungry. I’ve never been this out of control. I’ve never used this as a weapon. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Let go,’ his First Officer suggests gently, and the emotions he feels in return—
Relief—amusement—a quiet, mature agreement—
The blackness of sleep. The warming cradle of space.
They are, on occasion, attacked. The nature of the attacks is…well, to put it delicately, quite different than any other they have encountered. The Da`woat are single-minded, and their obsession gives them strength. Nyota saves the doctor when she examines one to make sure they’re alive and is attacked from behind. Abboud keeps up a steady stream of chatter about what archaeological discoveries might be found on the planet, which seems to be keeping the married ensigns’ attention on their purpose here. Spock has reservations, wondering whether it also serves to alert whatever Da`woat still have their wits about them before coming to the conclusion that irritation may also serve its purpose, and that their continued resistance is more important than their silence. The others are good for morale and a distraction.
One moment, Kirk wasn’t there. The next, he appears. His eyes are wild and dangerous, despite his unclothed state. Of course, the idea that the Captain is at all dangerous might still be the lingering emotional effects of the mind-meld. Fortunately, the other individuals are aware of their duty and raise their phasers at his appearance.
Kirk sneers. “I’m gone for how long and you already think you’re qualified to be giving the orders, Acting Captain?”
“Fire,” Spock orders, not allowing himself to become shaken by Kirk’s childish taunts.
The Captain falls to his knees, but is not unconscious, something rather unprecedented (as far as Spock is aware). One phaser beam on stun, perhaps; there are species that have managed that feat, but six beams is far beyond what a human could endure and remain conscious.
As he glances up, however, there’s a discrepancy in his expression. He still has a sneer, but his eyes—
His eyes are anguished.
Spock could attempt a neck pinch, but that would most likely fail, just as the phasers had. It is possibly a side effect of the aphrodisiac but he is reluctant to make any conclusions without data.
“You do not wish to hurt us, Captain. Let us aid you,” he suggests.
“You only call me Captain when you want to control me. You don’t respect my leadership!” His eyes still beg for assistance, which makes the mockery of one of his smiles that appears next truly diabolical. “But that’s all right,” he purrs. “I haven’t shown off, but I do have the power. I can make you listen. I can make any of you do anything I want, and that’s all right, isn’t it? After all, I am the Captain.”
He smirks, poses, and something in Spock’s brain whites out. Only for a few seconds, he’s fairly certain, but it’s long enough to miss the others dropping their phasers, approaching as if the antidote has lost its potency. A quick catalogue suggests he’s also dropped his phaser, and the way Jim’s smirking touches something primal in his brain, but it’s precisely the fact that he’s part Vulcan that enables him to identify the impulse as something foreign. Fortunately, being Kirk’s second has been excellent training in mastering his own emotions, better than any test Vulcans could devise.
He narrows his own eyes, putting the pieces together. “It would have been logical to mention that I am not the only being aboard the Enterprise struggling with a half-human heritage.” He ignores, for the moment, the fact that this is also true of Ensign Chey and a few other members of Starfleet aboard the starship. It is a gamble, a move Spock would not have considered before making the acquaintance of one James Tiberius Kirk, but the latter’s unique solution to the Kobiyashi Maru simulation and subsequent chess victories despite the likelihood of success have demonstrated the success of such techniques. From the way familiar blue eyes widen, it is a gamble that pays off.
“I can’t—” Kirk bites out, biting his lower lip as one of the married Ensign’s hands reaches out to caress his chest.
Spock nods. “As Captain, you do not have to. I’m here to support you, Kirk, if you will let me do so. In this circumstance, you could benefit from Vulcan training.” He inches closer, wary of any sudden movement, quelling any trace of jealousy at Nyota divesting herself of her clothing or of irritation that the others are not behaving in a manner befitting Starfleet personnel—as he said before, blaming them for things they cannot control is illogical—and for the second time in the day, performs a mind-meld.
The predominant feeling is relief. The second is confusion. He only belatedly registers that it is his own, for he is not being overwhelmed by memories or thoughts and is aware of the distinction between himself and—Jim.
And then he feels hunger. Overwhelming, vast hunger, and understands that this must be the physical state corresponding to the description of ‘starvation’.
‘It is irrational,’ Jim admits, and his mental representation is clothed in a formal Starfleet uniform. ‘I’ve had so much to eat, and I’m still hungry. I’ve never been this out of control. I’ve never used this as a weapon. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Let go,’ his First Officer suggests gently, and the emotions he feels in return—
Relief—amusement—a quiet, mature agreement—
The blackness of sleep. The warming cradle of space.
