Captain's Log

AOS Jim Kirk   selective & private

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Moved!

You can find me here 

This blog is now an archive!

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Moved!

You can find me here 

This blog is now an archive!

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Moved!

You can find me here 

This blog is now an archive!

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Moved!

You can find me here 

This blog is now an archive!

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Moved!

You can find me here 

This blog is now an archive!

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

That moment when you had muse for a hot second but now the bastard is gone again.

[pinefinemine]

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Hiatus notice

Welp. Not feeling it right now. I’ve been in a funk all week and Jim is silent as well :/

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Hiatus notice

Welp. Not feeling it right now. I’ve been in a funk all week and Jim is silent as well :/

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

Hiatus notice

Welp. Not feeling it right now. I've been in a funk all week and Jim is silent as well :/

[obsessedwithgoldens]

[afaerytalelife]

[sebastiansstan]

What he’s saying is, that if we disorient the swarm, we can kick its ass!

[startreklesbian-deactivated2020]

Bones’ legendary hands

Bonus: 

[emmaduerrewatson]

Chris Pine photographed by Tomo Brejc for Elle UK.

[anotherdayinthefleet--a]

@fasciinating​

he seems delirious. a problem. one, that spock quite vehemently wishes he could have avoided. standing there, between an accident and its oncoming sirens. but it was his bike that hit him, the man on the ground despite his negligence to look both ways before crossing the street. something he thought everyone had opportunity to learn since daresay, infancy. fortunately, the ambulance ride is a short one. they’ve asked him only a few questions to his small relief; spock allowed the paramedics all the work in finding out who he was. the man on the stretcher. james apparently, and according to the wallet they’d fished out of a wispy-headed victim. who also, as he recalls from almost nonsense, has a princess somewhere that can’t be left alone. another problem. ❝ if i may, who is princess? ❞  he asks. hours later. when spock’s been served a moment’s peace from his inability to conjure any more personal information about a man he doesn’t know, sitting rigidly in one of those hospital chairs rumored for its discomfort ( which he now knows as fact ) , and would simply like to go home, but didn’t. though, he supposes fair is fair and better than being sued. 

Everything is a blurr, from riding in the ambumlance to the doctors checking him through. It might has to do with the drugs he got, leaving him hight as a kite. It’s not too bad though, because that means that he isn’t in pain anmore and he rather takes being high if he’s honest. Then again, it makes listening to the doctors a little difficult, barely understanding that they’re gonna keep him for at least a night to keep an eye on him and his concussion. 

He’s been dozing, riding the buzz that the painkiller brought on when the door opens and someone walks in. It’s not a nurse, though, but the guy who drove the bicycle. His lips pull into a lazy smile, which just as quickly vanishes at the mention of princess. “’s my dog. She’s ‘lone, don’ have anyone who can take care of her.” his speech is a little slurred when he talks and he struggles to even find the right words. Everything’s just so ... fuzzy right now. He worries about his pup, though. Sure she’s a grown up dog but to him she’ll forever be that dorky little puppy. “’m not gettin’ outta here tonight...she’s gonna.. she’s gonna be worried..”

[drbonesmccoy]

— richard siken