“Space is disease and Danger Wrapped In Darkness And Silence”

BUT THIS IS EVERYTHING! Listen, I’ll die on the hill of Spock and Uhura, but man - Uhotty is like the hill right behind that one and imma connect them with a bridge. LOVE THIS. ♥️🩵♥️🩵♥️✨

“ Conversation ran short. ” [Sardaukar Marc]

UHURA LOOKED DOWN AT THE DEAD ROMULAN at Marc’s feet, clearly unprepared for the lone Sardaukar he would cross blades with this far out in the northern desert; Romulans proving better equipped to survive further in the desert than most who aren’t Fremen. With swift hands she immediately began stripping the body of anything valuable, upwards to collecting his water; water from Romulans being far more useful and consumable then the chemical-ridden water of the Harkonnens. While at her task, Uhura pried out loud at Marc the reason a singular Romulan was this far in the desert, clearly meant to survive out here for at least a week given the presence of that many rations and a frem-kit. But she was met with a very concise and unsatisfying reply– “ Conversation ran short. ” She certainly didn’t buy into the fact he attempted to extract any intelligence from his kill. Uhura was Fedaykin and few others understood the art and necessity behind combat as they did, but given the nature of the fight being for their very freedom and autonomy to live on their own world untrammeled by outworlders; they also deeply understood the necessity of subterfuge and interrogation. Setting aside a para-compass, the frem-kit, rations, various other small tools and devices, she spoke without looking up from the black, rubber pouch she filled with the body’s water of Marc’s dead Romulan, “ — you would think a Sardaukar would be interested to know why his enemy is so far from their normal patterns. Though I never thought Sardaukar did much thinking, so can I really say I’m surprised? ” The vitriol in her tone apotheosized at the very end of her statement, where she cut herself short, abruptly so. She didn’t like him. Very nearly the whole Sietch had shared this sentiment – until prophecy was spoken. Lines of holy script, but really just venomous propaganda spewed for centuries by Bene Gesserit missionaries. Uhura loved Layla – and yet no one in the Sietch could rile her to anger as quickly as Layla. The antecedent cause to that anger was always rooted in prophetic and religious beliefs that Uhura could simply not subscribe to; particularly in the exacting way with which Layla tended to believe in these Holy Signs. Holy Signs where Uhura only saw lies meant to enslave the faith and beliefs of her people, while Romulans and Harkonnens saw to enslave them in a more literal sense. Marc had fit the lines of prophecy; things about the foe becoming the friend, a man of three. Lines that didn’t even register as sensical to her nor did she care to have them explained by Layla inside of her religious fervor or Spock inside of his logical litanies. So it was decided to reform the Sardaukar rather than to take his water and give his body to the desert. Uhura didn’t understand it, and there was a large part of her that didn’t want to, not when she was there squatting on the ground watching the blood drip off his blade and wondering how much blood from her people ran down the same metal edge. Admittedly the only ones who really spoke to him in the Sietch, beyond functional discourse, were Spock and Layla. When the last of the water was drained, she threw the packs over her shoulders, and looking at his sword and back at Marc, she spat “ – feel better, Sardaukar? ”

@silverjetsystm

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

intended for mature audiences, minors dni. specify muse if interacting with a multimuse.

what is their sexuality/sexual preference?

what is their romantic preference or inclination?

what are some features of others that attract them from the outset?

what are some features of others that arouse them, or they find arousing in a sexual situation?

what are their most common turn-ons?

what are some more situational or contextual turn-ons?

what attire do they feel most attractive in?

what attire do they find others most attractive in?

what is their favourite sexual act?

do they indulge in masturbation or personal fantasies?

how do they feel about foreplay?

how do they feel about one-night stands?

are they openly flirtatious/sexual, or are they quite private?

how open are they, or how do they feel about sexual experimentation? elaborate if needed.

what is something they consider a kink of their own?

have they engaged in sexual acts beyond themselves and a single partner (group sex, swinging, polyamory, etc.)?

how satisfactory has their sex life been thus far?

what is something they wish to try? why haven't they tried this yet?

are they dominant, submissive, switch, partner/context-dependent, or unsure?

do they prefer to give or receive sexually?

+ established ship question. in any/all verses, with any/all ships, have your character/s speak about that ship's intimate & sexual dynamic, and how they feel about it.

Dune: Part One Prompts

Part II An assortment of prompts taken from the movie Dune: Part One (2021). Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ Yet you risk your life to help us. ”

“ Do you know what this place is? ”

“ Would you bare witness? ”

“ You'd make a play for the throne? ”

“ You're a lost boy hiding in a hole in the ground. ”

“ I know you walk two worlds and are known by many names. ”

“ We have to go. We have no choice. ”

“ I serve only one master. ”

“ The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience. ”

“ We must move with the flow of the process. ”

“ His healing isn't complete. ”

“ Nothing survives such a storm. ”

“ They're dead. It's a certainty. ”

“ Don't be frightened. ”

“ There's much to learn. Come with me. ”

“ Follow me. Do the same moves. ”

“ I think this is the right direction. ”

“ We are not alone. ”

“ He does not speak or act like a weakling. ”

“ What wealth can you offer beyond the water in your flesh? ”

“ Conversation ran short. ”

“ Peace, woman. Peace. I judged hastily. ”

“ I would have not let you hurt my friends. ”

“ You talk like a leader. But the strongest leads. ”

“ When you take a life, you take your own. ”

“ I want you to die with honor. ”

“ May thy knife chip and shatter. ”

“ You should welcome my blade. ”

“ This world will kill you. ”

“ Do you yield? ”

“ You're one of us now. ”

“ If you'll have us, we will come. ”

“ This is only the beginning. ”

A FUNNY THING TO COMMIT one’s life to adventure amongst the stars, and yet still be overwhelmed in awe of the infinite splendor of the universe. For a long while she fell into an absorbed gaze with the slow dying star that Starbase 12 had orbited. Then all at once she had been vividly aware of the faintest of warmth from an even fainter touch of fingers to hers. Scotty. A surge of something that teetered on thrill rushed up from her belly, heated by her heart where it left a flush of deep tawny in her cheeks. There was still the giddy sort of excitement that comes with the blush of new love; the kind of newness where the moments come and do so with a flagrant disregard to the laws of time’s passing. Nyota liked when the moments moved very slowly between them, as they did now; where she felt just breathing each other’s air would sew them to a fixed point in time - like the universe reaching through it’s own vast abyss to present to them something infinitely precious. A moment that they may claim, a rooted plot on the cosmic timeline - to exist always until its radiance burned through until the last stars. Then she says a silly thing. He smiles when she does. He already had a coin. For a moment she thinks he’s magic. Then he says a soft thing. Nyota’s hand entangles with his that holds the coin, it’s metal cool against her palm. Their touch was new, tapered, and discreet. Existing in that space where a kiss shared between them numbers a vanishingly thin amount, but each one committed to her memory as though they’d been with her always. She feels the impulse to commit another entry to those memories and rises slowly from her feet so that her mouth might meet his where finally she kisses him. Nyota kisses Scotty and there’s a beat of swirling silence; like the silence that lives between the death of the star and the birth of the supernova. And here is where they’ll crack open the fabric of the cosmos.  Hands moving up and away from his so they could creep featherlight along the avenue of his arms, splaying out flat against his chest, and smoothing the material of his shirt below her fingers. Higher her feet lifted her, deeper her kiss went, and followed by the ascent of her hands to his shoulders; resting finally against either side of his jaw.

The moments between them began disregarding time again, as she was sure she had only just kissed him, yet the swollen ache in her lips suggested otherwise. Just as slowly as she’d risen to meet his mouth did she descend away from it, but held his eyes with hers so she could say, with great conviction in her heart, she answered his question with a much weightier meaning then either might have expected — “Both. Not me. Not you. Us. Both.” She touches her fingers lightly to her mouth feeling that dull ache there, the place where he had been and she could still feel him there; it had struck her why some had described kissing like a kind of fusion. “Both,” she said softer, but committed wholly to what it meant. To Scotty.

"Let's flip coins. Heads, I'm yours. Tails, you're mine."

FACE BREASK INTO A WIDE GRIN. No matter how they flip the coin, it works out in Monty's favor. And Nyota's.

The skin around his eyes crinkle, hues dancing in the pulsing lights of the starbase. Someone thought it was a good idea to have neon light to draw attention to store fronts and galleries.

The station hums under their feet, maintaining its orbit around a dying star. A sight in and of itself but Scotty is trapped by the mischief lining Nyota's mouth.

"Sounds good to me lass. Now, who is doing the flipping?" A hand slips into his pocket as he produces a coin. "You or me?" @haiiling

You let me fall first, then you dream awake I'd do anything to bring you to that other place We speak so differently alone, love like friends, and we are low Watch for constellations, soft as cloud formations That will never leave, much as duty calls If I'm in over my head, I'll swim Niagara Falls Nonviolent communication

𝑁𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑴𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏’

@fasciinating & @vulku

The vastness of space was harrowing as it was inviting. She stood there, not more than four foot two, her small button-nose pressed against the window, where she took a great deep breath as the two amber eyes setting behind thick glasses invited in the abyssal darkness running endlessly to forever-and-a-day and beyond. That darkness, however, was also consuming. Consuming in a way that it became a vivid awareness starting as a cold feeling in her toes, that crept up her legs and knobby-knees like a spindly legged spider. An awareness that told her something very old and very slow moved out in that sprawling void. She dearly loved space; but this was ancient space where strange things lurked in the bones and dust of long dead stars and systems. Pushing back from the window, she looked down the long narrow white hallways, the calm blinking lights on the panels of the wall split a joyful grin across her face, following a dreamy kind of impulse to idle left down the corridor – occasionally giving her high-top, cherry red sneakers an intentional squeak for the sake of the sound alone. After a seemingly arbitrary wander, she had arrived at a rather large arch. Each door panel had a frosted window, with a very long and important looking panel next to it with a constant stream of information, leaving her with a keen feeling she should go inside. 

The doors opened with the pleasant sound that reminded her of paper sliding against paper; revealing behind them a room that did not disappoint her expectations. All manner of soft white light illuminating even brighter floors, walls and counters. Instruments with great silver knobs and dials, glass jars and beakers of every shape and size containing materials and liquids of every color in the rainbow, and some colors she was certain she had never seen up close with her own eyes. It was perhaps one of the most magnificent rooms she had ever seen or at the very least was certainly amongst her top ten favorite rooms she had ever been in.

An interesting thread of thought of favorite rooms entertained her while she peered closely at what had appeared to be a sentient kind of liquid, undulating in a closed jar, when she noticed two great, earthy brown eyes peering through the same jar on it’s opposite side.

She did not scream (she was, afterall, very brave – which she knew to be true, because everyone in her family had said so), but rather gasped sharply and covered her mouth to avoid more sounds coming out of it, and stepped to the side so she could see clearly to whom the eyes belonged. A boy.

A Vulcan boy.

She almost stated this very fact. She had the impulse to state a great many facts just then, because she knew more about the planet Vulcan than anyone in her class.

Even Junior Thomas, who claimed he knew everything and he didn’t even know the difference between the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, Sarek, and Surak the Vulcan who (as she believed) invented logic. He was so stupid. And she was right. And she should say it. And she did. And then sometimes her teacher had to write a letter home to her mother for being unkind.

She resisted sharing any of this information with him with a tremendous effort on her part, for she was profoundly curious and fascinated by a great many and all things Vulcan, as it was one of her most favorite subjects in the whole galaxy to discuss with anyone willing to listen (and very occasionally the unwilling). She had only ever even seen, in person, a very few Vulcans and normally they were there to have very serious and grown-up conversations with her parents.

Vulcans were very grown up.

The boy hadn’t even spoken and she could tell that he was very grown up.

“Hi!” She winced, noting the over excitement in her own voice.

“Hello,” she began again, a little more seriously, in an attempt to try and sound more adult.

“My name is Nyota Uhura and three facts about me are that I really love space, Carl Sagan is my favorite scientist, and I just turned nine years old.”

Gingerly, Nyota rocked on the balls of her feet hoping with a great tremendous leap of her heart that he would be interested in looking at the Carl Sagan hardcover book in her backpack, complete with full color pages of planets. It was a very old book that her grandfather gave her for her birthday and it was currently her third most favorite thing she owned.

@fasciinating

❛ oh, this guy’s hilarious. ❜

Livick, a new provisional science Lieutenant that had been assigned to the Enterprise from the USS Carlsbad, had seemed to be an exuberant welcome among the ensigns and cadet class crew; which wasn’t too far from Nyota’s mind and even she hadn’t been above the contagious energy a crewman brought. Currently Livick was ornating a small group of ensigns at his table, one of whom was a round, faced cheerful nurse Chekov had nurtured a fondness for over the better part of a few long haul warps and who seemed to have grown closer to their new Lieutenant; leaving her crewmate and, more importantly, her friend - a little soured. Maybe, what she suspected, even a little hurt.

Nyota was nothing if not a fiercely loyal friend.

“ Well you know what isn’t hilarious ? I heard his work is sloppy, late, not swept for banal errors. Also he eats french fries with mayo only - can you imagine ? No thank you. ” She spoke as though her branding of subversive disapproval was a solution rather than the band aide it really was, on what she feared was a bit of a bigger wound than all that. However, she was willing to weather it’s ache out in good company, food and drink.

“ So I say we order something fucking incredible in rebellion of Lieutenant Livick’s tragically bad taste .”

“The very fact that socks exist is proof shoes don’t work.

@wcrpbubble for Bev!