how does spock know that

Star Trek 2009

Spock: i have feels

Jim: Spock has feels?

Spock Prime: you two should really talk about your feels

Star Trek Into Darkness

Spock: why are we fighting?

Jim: because you don’t want to talk about our feels

Uhura: see? its not just me that wants to talk about feels Spock

Star Trek Beyond

Bones: wait you broke up with Uhura? does Jim know?

Spock: no i don’t know how to talk about these feels

Bones: TELL JIM ABOUT YOUR FEELS SPOCK

Things I think about

- Does Spock know how to work a washing machine?

- When was interspecies marriage legalized in the federation?

- Are there starfleet regulation hijabs and kippahs?

- How does the federation prevent giving newly discovered cultures diseases they don’t have immunity to?

- Are there tribble mills, like puppy mills but for tribbles?

- Is the horta happy with its babies? Are the miners leaving it alone?

- Do Vulcans have memes yet?

    - In relation, does Spock have That Feel When No T’hy’la?

   - Or does he desire that mineral sustenance?

- Does Jim’s tummy know we love it?

- Is Bones eating enough?

- Are there Gorn coture shows?

- Has someone kissed the unicorn dog today?

  • Jim: How does she know you love her?
  • Leonard: Oh, no. No.
  • Jim: How does she know she’s yours?
  • Leonard: Don’t sing. It’s okay. Let’s walk. Let’s just walk.
  • Spock: How does she know that you love her?
  • Leonard: He knows this song too?!
  • Jim: How do you show her you love her?
  • Jim and Spock: How does she know that you-
  • Spock: -really-
  • Jim: -truly-
  • Jim and Spock: -love her?
  • Leonard: I’ve never heard this song.

anonymous asked:

Spirk please for the ship head cannons! I love them all so far!!

(Why thank you sweetie - I’m glad you like them - AND FINALLY THE OTP)

Jim loves watching Spock sleep.

Despite that maybe having a creepy title, Jim can’t help it. When he sleeps Spock is a completely different person. His shield disappears, his breathing isn’t so precise. He purrs rather than snores which is what Jim adores. He loves the deep drawl that comes from his lovers throat in the night. Spock doesn’t even know he does it. Spock doesn’t even know how beautiful he when sleeping. Jim wishes Spock would let himself go like this during the day.

Jim loves to trace along Spock’s jawline, very softly, since Spock was a light sleeper. His skin was always so soft. Jim sometimes lost sleep by just staring at Spock, kissing his nose, stroking his hair, and swung around grumpily if Spock had decided to sleep on his opposite side.

One night Jim was feeling more emotional and on edge than usual. The night before Jim had messed up on one of the missions, bad. He got a crewmate killed. A very high ranking officer, gone in an instant because he had made one mistake. He was sleeping in Spock’s quarters now. The room had a lingering foreign scent, one he couldn’t describe if he tried. But it was purley Spock. He loved it. It made him feel safe. But tonight even the scent couldn’t lift his spirits. He was turned on his side, not even bothering to look at Spock. He could feel his breath on his neck. Jim couldn’t sleep. The death of his crewmate had been haunting him since yesterday evening. The fact that if he did one more thing wrong, he could lose some else, maybe someone he loved.

In slight shock and panic, he spun around to check if Spock was still there, despite the breathing on his neck. Spock was there, eyes closed, breathing steadily. Kirk smiled without meaning. Not cautiously, he cupped one hand on Spock’s cheek. Feeling an overwhelming wave of emotion, tears started to fall from his eyes. He thought of every possible scenario he could lose Spock. Every possible way he could fuck up. The hand on Spock’s face trembled, and it didn’t take long for the Vulcan’s eyes to flicker open. His eyes widened when he saw the distraught expression on Jim’s face. “Jim,” he said softly.

“I…I can’t lose you. Not like that engineer yesterday. Not because I’m going to screw up again. I can’t go back out there Spock, what if I get you killed, what if I-” Spock surprised him with a sudden kiss, a passionate one. Through it, Spock seemed to be sending him a message. ‘I’ll never leave you’. This didn’t stop his tears, but it made Jim feel a little less delirious. He buried his face in the vulcans neck. Spock snaked his arms around his captain. “I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up during this,” Jim heard himself say.

“I was already awake, Jim. I always am.”

(Send me a ship and I’ll respond with a headcanon)

deadnotsleepng  asked:

imagine whenever jim or bones or any of the crew hes familiar with are upset, spock does the only thing he knows how to do in that situation and makes tea. he soon becomes known for his spice teas and people come sit with him just so they can maybe have some

Imagine Spock having a beautiful tea set in his room.

When he makes tea, he never pressures the other person to talk. He simply sits and drinks with them, and if they want to talk, they can.

❇ ✹ ✺ ✻ ✼ ❈  Join Spock Tuesday!  ❉ ✱ ✲ ✴ ✵ ✶

“If you were a painting, what would you be?”

The question comes out of left field, but that’s not really surprising. It’s the first night of a glorious two weeks of shore leave, and, as usual, they’re gathered for drinks and cards and laughter. So the surprise isn’t so much that a random question has been asked, but that it was asked by Sulu, who isn’t even drinking alcohol.

“The Mona Lisa,” Jim answers promptly.

Nyota scoffs. “Leave it to you to compare yourself to the most famous painting on Earth. Practically in the galaxy.”

“I should like to know your reasoning, Jim,” Spock says.

Jim smiles slightly, shaking his head, and sets down his glass. “Have any of you ever actually seen the Mona Lisa?

“I’ve seen pictures,” Leonard volunteers. He’s never told anyone, not even Jim, but he once entertained thoughts of being an artist.

“No, I mean, in person.” Leonard shakes his head, as do the others. “I have, summer I turned fifteen. It’s not very impressive. At least, not to me. It’s not as big as you’d expect, and it’s kind of dingy, and frankly I don’t think it’s a very good painting. If it weren’t the most famous painting on the planet, you wouldn’t give it a second look.”

Leonard feels uneasy at Jim’s assessment of the painting, especially since he compared himself to it. Spock tilts his head slightly. “And for that reason…”

Jim nods seriously. “We’ll have to go to the Louvre sometime, so I can show you what I mean.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Chekov changes the subject. Leonard can’t get it out of his head, though, and that night when they crawl into bed, he makes sure to hold his husband extra tightly.

Leonard doesn’t know how Spock does it, but somehow, the next day, he comms them with the news that he has “procured seven seats on the next shuttle to France” and asks them to meet at the shuttleport. Of course they can’t say no, and the next thing he knows, the senior command of the Enterprise is checked into a hotel in the heart of Paris. When Sulu and Chekov press Spock, he says only that it is a “cultural experience” and points out that it is hardly fair that they have seen dozens of famous landmarks and galleries on planets across the quadrant, but never seen one of the most famous cities on their own planet. When Leonard pulls him aside, however, he admits that he couldn’t stop thinking about Jim’s comparison of himself to the Mona Lisa.

“I have never seen more than a fascimile, Doctor,” he says softly, “but…let us employ one of your human emotions, and hope that they do not live up to the original.”

Of course nobody specifically mentions the Louvre, not right away. That’s something that needs a whole day. Instead they take the Metro–a transportation system largely unchanged in three centuries, which Spock and Scotty both find fascinating for different reasons–to the Eiffel Tower, go to the top and look out across the city as the sun sets and the streets light up. Leonard slips his arm around Jim’s waist and Nyota threads her fingers through Spock’s, and they stay on the observation deck until Chekov gets dizzy and they find out he hasn’t eaten since the party the night before. Leonard chides him and they get dinner before going back to the hotel to sleep.

Jim’s the only one who’s been to Paris before. The first full day in the city, they hit the bigger landmarks–the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Napoleon’s tomb–and then spend the afternoon at the Musee d'Orsay, the modernist art museum, which all of them agree is thoroughly weird. Jim remembers a little cafe his mother took him to, and wonder of wonders, it’s still there. The waiter recognizes them and gets the proprietor, who insists on waiting on them himself and giving them a discount and heaping praises on them, but especially on Jim. Any other time Leonard would have teased Jim about getting a swelled head, but Jim’s face is burning bright red and he seems to be trying to hide under the table.

So the next day, when they do go to the Louvre, they make an effort to be unobtrusive. Jim and Bones both have a three-day scruff of beard, which effectively disguises them to the casual eye; Spock wears a knit stocking cap that covers the tips of his ears. The others aren’t as well-known, and they look different enough out of uniform that they’re all right. They stick together and go through the museum slowly, taking their time, enjoying the various exhibits.

At last, they enter one of the huge rooms, the most crowded one they’ve been to yet. There’s a huge crowd around the back wall, buzzing with excitement. Jim stops well back from it and gestures. “There it is.”

At first, Leonard doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Then he sees that there is a single painting on the back wall, hung just above the height of the average man. Nyota gasps. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Jim says. “That’s the Mona Lisa. You can go closer, if you want, but I’m gonna stay back here. Tell me what you think–as if it were any other painting in the museum.”

Chekov is the first to speak, his brows knotted in confusion. “It’s so…small. We have dishtowels on ze Enterprise bigger zan zat.”

“Cleaner, too,” Sulu mutters.

Leonard squints. Truthfully, he has no desire to get any closer to the painting, but even at this distance, he can see enough to say honestly, “You’re right, Jim. It’s not that impressive of a painting.”

“Why’s it so famous?” Scotty asks.

“I believe that has to do with the painter,” Spock says, “although research indicates that, before the twentieth century, it was not particularly famous.”

Nyota shakes her head. “If it weren’t on the wall by itself, you’d never notice it.”

“Now you understand,” Jim says quietly. “That’s how I’ve always felt–how the world makes me feel. I’m famous because of my dad, and okay, maybe what we’ve done has added to that, but still. People only really pay attention to me because I’m famous.”

Leonard looks at the painting. The frame is twice as big as necessary, matted thickly, and it looks lost and forlorn on the huge white expanse of the gallery wall. For a wild moment, he wonders if the painting gets lonely, being on a wall by itself. If it wouldn’t be happier in a crowd, even though that would mean nobody would pay attention to it. If maybe it doesn’t like calling attention to itself at all.

He glances back at Jim, who meets his eyes and smiles slightly. “Come here,” he says, taking Leonard’s hand. “Let me show you something.”

Leonard lets Jim lead him around the crowd. The others follow close behind. As they draw near the wall, Leonard realizes that there are huge bays on either side, leading to a room behind it, and he wonders how he missed it. Then again, nobody else seems to have seen it either. This room is virtually empty, save for one or two people walking swiftly through the room. Jim stops in the middle of the room and points upwards, not saying a word.

Looking up, Leonard can’t hold back a gasp of astonishment. Far above them, almost the height of the Enterprise’s warp nacelles, is a gorgeous fresco, painted in bright vibrant colors and accented with gold leaf. Even from this distance, the artwork is so detailed that he can make out individual strands of a woman’s hair, see the fingernails on a hand twisted in a robe, count the leaves on a tree. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.

“This was my favorite part,” Jim says, his voice soft, almost reverent. “I spent almost an hour in here the last time, just staring at it.”

“It’s amazing,” Leonard breathes.

Jim steps closer to Leonard, slipping an arm around his waist. “This,” he says, “is what you make me feel like. All of you, but especially you, Bones.”

Spock looks at Jim. “What do you mean, Jim?”

The others tear their gazes away from the fresco as Jim explains, “I can never remember what this painting is called, or who did it–the sign’s a little high up and far away. But I never forgot how beautiful it was. When you guys look at me, you see…well, me. You don’t care that I’m famous, or infamous or whatever. You don’t care where I’ve come from or what I’ve done. All you care about is me.” He waves a hand around the room. “You see what nobody else takes the time to notice, and you…well, you see the best of me. I might be the Mona Lisa to the rest of the world…but when I’m with you, I feel like something special.”

Leonard feels tears in his eyes. Then and there, in the middle of one of the most public museums in the galaxy, he takes Jim’s face in his hands and kisses him, deeply, tenderly, and thoroughly.

“You are, Jim,” he murmurs against his husband’s lips. “You are.”