free writing spaces

Spock’s that weird chaotic good kind of crusher- he just watches Jim sleep to make sure he’s respirating properly and secretly adds vitamins to Jim’s water and puts the captain’s glasses/pens/wristwatches into places where he will find them later (instead of where Jim left them, buried in the depths of some couch cushion or something) or maybe Spock subtly rearranges some schedules so Jim can get more sleep but no one ever knows. He’s too sly about it all. His affection for Kirk manifests itself too abstractly for anyone to notice, even Jim himself most of the time.

Humans Are Weird

I’ve been pondering this all morning and after much thought, I’ve decided to jump on the “humans are strange and confusing creatures” bandwagon.

I only have one word (or, more accurately, one word composed of two different words… a compound word, if you will) for you all. Gemstones. It is not impossible that in some far reaches of the universe, another species shares our love of pretty rocks, but if we look around at other planets in our very own solar system, like Jupiter and Saturn, where it rains diamonds, gemstones would not be such a rare commodity. They aren’t even such a rare commodity here on Earth. Yet we are enchanted by them, paying great sums to acquire them and wear them. We fawn over people who have the prettiest ones and offer them to loved ones as gifts.

Now, imagine if you will, a space crew landing on an uncharted planet, where rubies are just as common as sand. The other members think nothing of it, but are perplexed as they turn to see Human Steve grabbing them by the fistful and filling his pockets greedily. Is he collecting samples for scientific research? Humans are known for their fondness of “space rocks”, they have brought back multiple ones from their moon to study, but these? These were rubies. The whole crew knew what they were, no need to analyze them any further. A confused rookie, Jix, a Freelian (a reptilian race, slender and logical from the planet Freel) inquired as to why Human Steve would need so much of a common stone once they returned to the ship. Human Steve just gave him a smile and replied “My girlfriend loves them.” So his mate was a rock enthusiast. “It’s endearing how Human Steve supports his mate’s interests.” Jix noted to another crew member. “What do you mean?” asked Commander Gress. “He went out of his way to collect rocks for his mate, simply because she likes them.” Jix stated. “You mean the rubies?” Gress said with a chuckle, “Yeah, gemstones are a rare thing on Earth.” Jix didn’t understand. Gress continued: “It makes them precious. They use ‘em as gifts… It’s a human thing.” she said with a dismissive wave and left. Jix nodded pensively. He enjoyed Human Steve’s company and wanted to convey to him, without the use of words (preferably a gift, something special), how much he appreciated him. Jix suddenly had a brilliant idea.

The next morning, Human Steve woke up to an eager Jix pulling him out of bed. “I got you something!” he chirped, leading Human Steve to the cargo bay, where a large beige boulder took up most of the room. Perplexed, “It’s a rock.” was all Human Steve could say. However, Human Steve didn’t want to upset poor Jix, he seemed so proud. A “thank you” was stammered by Human Steve and the boulder was moved to his quarters. Later that day, Linda from engineering (also a human) asked him about the boulder. Human Steve shrugged, “Must be a Freelian thing.”

The possibilities are endless.

Humans are weird: Dancing

I lately started reading a lot of the humans are weird/space orcs||space australia||etc posts (I love them!) and I suddenly realised that diversity in humans is everywhere. Not just the obvious things like appearance, hobbies and lifestyle, but also traditions, legends, music, and dancing.

And my thoughts focused on dancing.

Like?? We have some dances that are widely known and danced, like the tango or the waltz, but there traditional dances, which are those dances that tend to be ‘‘regionally exclusive’‘? Like, danced by a certain group of people, usually defined by ethnicity (another concept that might or might not be understood by aliens).

Perhaps some aliens see our pair dances as ritualistic (in a sense, they are, I mean, the wedding waltz) or our group dances, like hiphop or ballet.

And then we have solo dances like belly dancing, pole dancing and striptease that many aliens might see as a mating call of some sort (I would argue that belly dancing isn’t erotic or provocative as the other two but that’s not the point here)

Point is, whenever two humans say they know dancing, chances are they don’t dance the same thing and aliens are confused like??? how many different kind of dances do you humans have??? what purpose do they serve???

The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl

Summary: The stuff you have to deal with while being a girl doesn’t change just because you’re up in space. At least you have four guys, five lions, and two aliens on your side.

Chapter 1: Apparently Mother Nature Visits in Space 

(FF | | AO3

Pidge centric. Female pronouns for Pidge. Just an exploration of situations Pidge can find herself in. Family dynamics ftw. 


“You want what?” Hunk asked, staring at the youngest paladin with a quirked brow.

“You know, those smooth disk things you made that one time,” Pidge said, flattening her hands together in a circular motion. “We used it to teleport-”

“I know what you’re talking about,” Hunk said, putting his hands on his hips. “But I didn’t think you liked those cookies.”

Pidge shuffled her feet nervously, pushing up her glasses with a finger. “Uh, well I don’t exactly…” At Hunk’s crestfallen expression the green paladin quickly shook her head, laughing nervously. “I mean- but I really want them now!”

Hunk didn’t exactly believe her but he did catch her shoveling some of the green goop into her mouth late last night when he ventured into the kitchen for a midnight snack. He also remembered thinking whether or not it was actually midnight. Altean time measurements use 20 vargas in a day so technically it was ten at night?

Hunk rubbed his temple. Space math.

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I think Jim is the type to prefer sleeping in the freezing cold and Spock likes sleeping in the heat (because he’s Vulcan of course) so they keep their room cold at night and Spock has a super warm electric blanket to curl up under by himself next to Jim as a compromise but he gets frustrated because he can’t cuddle Jim at night with the blanket on when Science Says™ it’s beneficial to touch one’s mate while sleeping, and no, Jim, it’s not because I want to snuggle and love on you like a teddy bear that’s preposterous(ly accurate dammit)

i. i have a bad habit of always leaving first.

ii. i read somewhere once that bad habits also can be people and i guess that makes sense. now i know why i have so much trouble breaking them. all my body knows is bad habits and good intentions. but how can you leave something that is you?

iii. and by this i mean i taught my body how to unlove itself before it knew how to walk /i mean never looking up at the sky because that is a holy privilige reserved for dreamers and people who actually have the fucking courage to chase after them and you-

iv. you, are not pure.

v. the only time i ever tasted divinity is when i baptized myself in the blood of all my fears.

vi. and by this i mean i am afraid someone will look too long and sees the blood stains on my hands/i mean i like to wear black things.

vii. and i can’t help but wonder if this is survival or an attempt to escape a body that does not feel like my own?

Hunk looks at Allura and sees starlight.

She’s laughing, spinning around in Lance’s arms as they hop along the brick-laden plaza. Each click of her heels, his oxfords, clack against the ground, matching the beat the two-man band offers from their place near the fountain. With every squeeze of his hands along her waist, her arms at his shoulders and in the air, Hunk feels lighter, tasting the feeling on his tongue as the food on the table before him begins to grow cold. The guitarist strums a match to his heartbeat, fondness an upbeat tune. Lance is laughing, orbiting around her, and Coran, a watchful moon standing aside the band with hands behind his back, smiles a fraction wider. Hunk is worried he’ll crack his face.

Allura is a solar system, Lance a planet that inhabits within, both tapping along to the pull of gravity. The violinist picks up her bow. Hunk dips his head and takes a bite of his sandwich. Out of the corner of his eye, the shimmer in Allura’s dress, black satin with a star’s identity, catches the evening’s sunlight. The rush of the fountain and laughter from the crowd around them settles into his ears.

“This should be good.”

Above it all, Pidge’s voice carries softly from beside him, her presence a satellite. Hunk hears affection in her tone as strongly as he’s experiencing it, aimed towards Keith’s direction. It’s hard to look away from the others, from Lance laughing and Allura’s dress fanning out to surround her in her own galaxy. But he can hear Keith beginning to laugh, an embarrassed key drifting high with the violinist’s notes, and a whistle times out to match a stomp echoing through the ground. 

Hunk looks at Keith and sees him surrounded by stardust.

Dressed down in black, Keith stands up straight as he stares at Shiro and his red button-down, both alight from the sun. Shiro stomps again, almost sheepish, a smile at Keith tossed without care. The guitarist raps his fingers against the body of his instrument, Hunk’s heartbeats once again, curiosity painting his posture as he leans forward in his chair. A jeer is thrown across the plaza, painted in Lance’s voice, respectful of the music’s beat, and Keith sneers and dips to his left. Shiro laughs, bends to the right, and the jeer shifts into a hoot. Hunk smiles when he hears Pidge’s hands tap against the table, smiles when Keith weaves his own hand into Shiro’s. 

They breathe in sync, footsteps a sure match, spinning around against the brick. Keith weaves in and Shiro out, trading smiles as if they were the very secrets of space. Shiro is the sun and Keith a comet whose tail burns into life, curling red as they revolve, tapping out patterns of constellations.

Hunk continues with his food and watches, a vibrant star in the center of the universe.

Searching for My Friend

I gaze at the night sky
I wonder
What’s out there
Life beyond here
Lightyears away
I wanna meet
An alien to greet
Hoping to gain knowledge
About the universe
I’ll always search
For my friend
Out there some where
Hopefully you arrive
In a time that I’m still alive
-Tyler Pilackas

You’re my 2am sleepy kiss through starry eyes, my 2pm hand to hold on all the treasures we have to unfold. I’m madly fucking in love with you. And I’d be mad to ever give you up, I hope my hand to hold is good enough.
—  thoughts upon thoughts of you (N.S)
Spirk Meditation Headcanon

Thanks to the lovely @plaidshirtjimkirk for encouraging me to post this, I’ve never been more nervous about posting… ever. Thanks!


Spock is very private about meditation, as most Vulcans are, but the longer he and Jim are together, and especially after they’re bonded, Spock starts to meditate where Jim could be around him (it is normal to meditate with your T’hy’la and Jim tried for a while but he’s just never been very good at shutting down his mind). Spock has always enjoyed the gentle background hum of Jim’s mind through the bond while he meditates (and it is only logical to take pleasure from your mate’s mind, Spock says).

So Jim, who usually sits nearby with a book, notices over time that Spock doesn’t always place his hands the same way while he meditates. He begins to recognize patterns.

When it seems like an important diplomatic negotiation might fall through or when Jim starts to get sick more often as they get older, Spock places both hands flat on the floor. Jim assumes this means worry.

And in the days leading up to a visit from Bones or Uhura or other old crew members, Spock’s hands give aways his excitement.

On the day they got married, the day they were bonded on Vulcan, on their anniversary every year, on Jim’s birthday, and sometimes just on the random days when Jim brings him home a data chip on something he thinks Spock would like to read or when Jim makes Plomeek soup from scratch, Spock cups his hands together. Jim thinks that this means love (and if they way Spock kisses and holds Jim after meditating, a deep and profound love).

But there are some hand positions that Jim only ever sees a few times.

When Spock’s mother dies, Jim thinks that Spock’s hands perfectly show his sad acceptance.

When Jim almost dies because of a mugging gone wrong (Jim remembers lying on the concrete, feeling himself get colder and colder, and thinking this would be such a silly way to go, on the streets of San Francisco, coming home from the supermarket because he needed milk to finish the cake he was baking, such a silly way to go after spending so much time brushing against death in space) he wakes up in his hospital bed with Spock meditating by his side. Jim thinks maybe his hands are supposed to show fear until Spock opens his eyes and realizes that it’s pure and unadulterated rage.

Jim wakes up to see Spock with meditating with his hands limply by his sides the morning after Bones dies. He’s never interfered with Spock meditating before but now he wants to climb out of bed and wrap himself around Spock to reassure him or maybe to cry or maybe to do nothing at all. But the weight of sadness is so heavy on him he can’t move and it looks like Spock can’t either. If he ever doubted that Spock cared deeply for Bones, that he loved Bones like a brother, he now knew for sure. That defeated posture meant grief.

Jim never asks for an explanation. He understands how private Vulcans can be about their traditions and doesn’t want to be insensitive. But one night, Jim and Spock are lying in bed. Spock has been oddly pensive, thinking while Jim reads.

“Are you at a section of your book where stopping momentarily would not alter your understanding of the story?” Spock asks suddenly, his brows drawn together.

“Sure,” Jim replies, closing his book (a paper antique) and taking off his reading glasses, setting them both on the bedside table. Spock is using the overly stiff language he only ever uses if he’s nervous these days and it makes Jim nervous too. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Spock opens his mouth as if he is about to say ‘yes’ but then closes it again, his brows drawing even further together. Instead he takes both of Jim’s hands is his. He cups Jim’s hands together.

“When Vulcans meditate, this signifies feelings of joy.” Spock says. “And this,” Spock continues as he places both of Jim’s hands flat on the bed, “is what humans consider as concern, or at its extreme, fear.” He balls Jim’s hands into fists, leaving them pressed to the bed.

“Anger,” Jim interjects. Spock’s raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You were doing that in the hospital after I got mugged,” he explains.

Spock smiles bashfully, “So you’ve noticed.” Jim nods. “I’m sure you know that Vulcans meditate as part of keeping their emotions under control. It involves identifying emotions and their causes. Positioning your hands to reflect the current situation aids this process”.

Jim twists Spock hands around, putting Spock’s hands in the position he uses most days. “What’s this one, then?” Jim asks.

Spock bows his head, a green blush creeping across his cheekbones.

“Happiness”.

First Meeting

for @kaminoanbat​, who has a beautiful, incredible, wonderful OC named Tiamat and (bc kaminoanbat is so sweet and amazing) let me design a girlfriend for her - two cute girls who love cooking? and spoiling clone troopers? truly Iconic™ ❤❤❤


Coruscanti air couldn’t exactly be called fresh, whether in the morning or evening or late night or anytime in between, but it always carried a humming undercurrent of pure, unchecked energy that seeped into every neon light, every littered alley, every glittering panel on the Senate building. It was a city-planet of a billion wandering souls, their lives thrumming and crashing together no matter the hour of the day, no matter the level. It was a natural resource seeping up through the very duracrete under their feet.

And as the forest-green Twi’lek woman stood outside of the bare restaurant - her restaurant - one hand on her hip and a data pad in the other, she was fit to burst from it.

A speeder raced around the corner, making her long gray linen robe snap in the sudden breeze. Noori smoothed it down, hardly even bothered, though she did cast the retreating speeder a quick glare out of habit. Her lekku, twined together under the deep ochre scarf wrapped three times about her head and tied off under her neck, smarted in the trail of fumes. Though I suppose it could get old rather fast.

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RoseFef Week!

Starting tomorrow, we will be hosting our first week, which is RoseFef. Tag your artwork/short fanfics as “rosefefweek”, submit it to the blog, or @ us in the description of your own post! If you have any questions, feel free to leave an ask or personally ask one of our mods. 

If you can’t read my handwriting:

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So I’m late to the party but...

I usually don’t make theory posts, but I was rewatching A Tale of Two Stans for the sixth time and I just noticed something.

I always thought Ford was writing in journal three. How is he writing in journal one? I always saw ford as the kind of guy who would write in a journal until he had LITERALLY no space to write in left. He isn’t writing in invisible ink either!

(I know they aren’t the same pens but they look incredibly similar) If journal one is ANYTHING like journal three, where the heck does Ford have the free space to write in it?

I think most of us assumed (or at least I did) That ford was writing in journal three in the page he titled “Against all odds, I’m Back” but later on that entry, he says he’s in his old study.

Which is NOT the portal room. 

I really don’t have any ideas as to what he wrote (or where he found the room to write it in the first place). Do you guys have any ideas about this? I haven’t seen posts pointing this out before and I’m really curious.

Posting all those ficlets at the same time has proved a fascinating microcosm of how people reply to different types of works in different fandoms. Like, the shortest one, the Cas Tentacle one where anon did most of the writing, has by FAR the most hits, kudos, comments, etc., I’m guessing because a. it’s canon, b. it’s tentacles, c. it’s explicit? But explicit wasn’t the only determinant, since the college AU one has the second most hits, and has one of the highest hits-to-kudos rate of anything I’ve ever posted (it’s like 4 to 1 right now) and yeah, it’s probably the most fleshed out and stand alone as a scene but it’s not explicit and it hits no kinks? 

Meanwhile, the Stormpilot one has a lot of hits, almost as many as the College AU, but a fraction of the kudos, and my guess is that it’s not because that story is shit so much as it is that I don’t have a following among Star Wars types, so people are less likely to click through, and if they don’t know my style they are just less likely to like it. Also, for all I know kudos rates are in general lower in that fandom. Ditto the Gundam W one which has one of the lowest hits to kudos ratios of anything I’ve ever posted. Does that mean people think it’s crap? Possible but I honestly don’t think that’s super likely (…call me cocky, lol…) but that it’s an old fandom and people in it will read through to ANYTHING but if it’s not their thing they may not care; also I bet as an older fandom the folks are less connected with convention now on what’s considered appropriate kudosing and commenting practice. 

I dunno. I’m mostly talking out my ass, hypothesizing about stuff I have no actual evidence for, but I just found the contrasts very interesting.

The List

Insanity Rambles: I know I should be working on my ML fic but Voltron suckered me in. And this is just a fun thing. Besides, every fandom needs a ‘101 things _ is not allow to do’ (otherwise knows as a ‘Skippy’s List’) fic!


The List appeared on the door of each paladin early one morning after a particularly interesting month. No one ever owned up to making it (Coran was the chief suspect among the younger members of the castle’s inhabitants) and eventually, it became a staple thing to refer to.

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sputnik

Something strange about
healing
something strange about
rubbing alcohol on your skin and
for some reason it doesn’t burn like you thought it would
or bring tears to your eyes
anymore,
no yelp from your lips,
quiet sore throat.

Something strange about
getting older
and yet the universe only seems to get bigger
something strange about waking up
alone
except for the patch of sun
shining onto your bedsheets
bright and bitter, she is
the only one you knew would really be there come morning

picking up the pieces of the love I threw at the wall
taping them together in one sloppy piece, then
sending it up into space
where it might be lost forever, but
at least it is intact,
call me sputnik, maybe.

People shift around each other all the time
green afternoons spent
walking alongside familiar strangers
not quite home but
I am no longer looking for it within the pockets above someone’s collarbones

Something about finally realizing
that maybe it’s not so bad to
be orbiting,
just watching
within reach of where home might be but
never quite there, and
maybe it really could just be
the realm where the earth and space mingle and dance with one another, zero gravity
maybe that’s really been it all along

lately I’ve been wondering
where the sky starts,
is it where the air meets the ground? the sea? the horizon?
Is it where it meets the highest mountain?
Or is it
right above my head?

Something about healing
has me floating in space
not quite directionless but still don’t quite have a place
somehow I’ve launched my love up in a rocket and now it’s blinking across the sky
if you’re in a dark enough place maybe you’ll be able to see it passing by
and even if it burns up before reaching the ground
I’m sure it will still look marvelous shooting its way down

5

Hey! I wanted to make you aware of a free program called Stellarium. You can follow the galaxy from any location and time; 99,999 BC to the year 99,999, (or even live). You can also enable to see star signs, follow a specific object, and much more.

It’s free to install for your pc, and it’s about $2 for Android or iOS. (ps; if you aim your phone at the galaxy, it will show you the stars that are currently there, including star signs and names if you enable that!)

Install on stellarium.org