This take might get me shot in the street but SNW would be a better show if Spock wasn't in it, either at all or at least not as much. The best character work in the show was done with characters that didn't get the opportunity to shine previously (Pike, Una, Uhura, M'Benga; no I am not counting Chapel in this category). Spock's character couldn't be more established or more explored, he is the Mr. Trek that people who've never watched a second of Star Trek know. We don't need more of him and it is clear that the writers mostly don't know what to do with him anyway. If he wasn't in the main cast, there would be time and opportunity to actually explore new stories and new(ish) characters, to actually create new Trek and not just an unfortunate echo of TOS.
The perks of having to stay up until 11pm to complete a medical test are that the last two chapters of Hangman’s Knot are fully drafted. I have so much editing to do, but after two years of work, this baby might finally get completed!
more women whump. more women pushing themselves and passing out from sleep deprivation and exhaustion. more women training until their knuckles bleed and their legs give out from under them. more women being held prisoner and remaining stoic until the very end or perhaps when they’re rescued. more women under truth serum and terrifying hallucinogens. more women waking up in a pool of blood, their own and others’ and not knowing what happened but that something is terribly wrong with them. more women falling apart o ly when rescued. more women pushed to their breaking point. more women whump.
I was tagged by @curator-on-ao3. Thank you thank you!
Rules: Post the first sentence of your latest 10 fanfics, then tag 10 people.
Verdict Afterwards
- The only Mirror Katrina Cornwell/Mirror Christopher Pike fic on AO3 at the time of this posting. Never thought I’d be launching a ship but stranger things have happened I guess.
She knew as soon as he kissed her.
Part To Play
- A Mirror Gabriel Lorca/Katrina Cornwell tumblr one-shot based on fan art.
The knock that sounded on his door was timid, hesitant, like whoever was outside wasn’t sure they wanted him to answer.
Pernicious
- A chose you Gabriel Lorca & Katrina Cornwell tumblr one-shot, basically what Part To Play started out as before the art the story is based on was finalized.
The chiming was incessant, a pernicious pattern played out on his doorbell, demanding answer.
It’s Hell That Follows
- A rewrite of Voyager’s Basics that I may or may not ever finish, but I am trying.
We weren’t three weeks from New Earth when we stumbled upon the buoy.
Nothing on My Tongue But Hallelujah (Fragments)
- A Pike/Batel, Pike&Cornwell, Pike/Cornwell one-shot that holds up Pike’s present relationship to his past.
Marie doesn’t understand.
Hold Me
- A series of drabbles I wrote to fix things I don’t like about SNW s3–with Kat, of course.
Kat woke slowly, sleep like quicksand—heavy, thick, trying to pull her back under.
Between a Hangman’s Knot and Three Mouths to Feed.
- An AU of Discovery s1-2 that graphs Cullen Bohannon’s revenge story onto Pike fully in-universe.
The bar was dark, the air rank with the stench of stale sweat and old liquor.
Medicus
- A post-Narada Pike/Cornwell one-shot in the Kelvinverse.
Tagging with no pressure: @jet-plane @pc-corner @ussjellyfish @kira-nerys-rocks @divinemissem13 @justreckin @cybercybertron and anyone else who tumbles upon this post and wants to play. Show me your first lines!
A Mirror Gabriel Lorca/Katrina Cornwell fic inspired by this image by the infinitely talented @brushbanshee. When I saw that the final image was of Mirror Lorca, I just had to reimagine the scene I thought of for the original sketch with Mirror Lorca trying to navigate the Prime universe and Prime Kat. This is the result.
Rating: T
Word Count: 1500 (I swear it started out as a drabble)
CW: Mirror Lorca is an evil bastard, but I love him.
The knock that sounded on his door was timid, hesitant, like whoever was outside wasn’t sure they wanted him to answer.
Gabriel Lorca was in no mood for visitors, as evidenced by the rather displeased clank the whiskey bottle made against the sideboard when he put it down. He was, however, in the mood for anger and of a mind to take it out on someone other than his liver, and those delicate little knocks presented the perfect outlet for his rage.
He tore open the door, harsh words at the ready, and was met by the face of a ghost. He froze, angry words forgotten at the sight of her.
The woman at the door started, recoiling at the wave of emotion that preceded him like a sortie of antagonism. When he didn’t immediately follow up with his planned onslaught of beratement, she recovered, her features moving from startled to neutral to concerned in the space of a breath.
Gabriel could only stare. The resemblance was…uncanny. He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised. This universe was filled with familiar faces; he shouldn’t be surprised by hers.
Her hair was damp, her uniform jacket spotted with rain drops. Right. It was raining.
He blinked. She was still there. Standing at his door.
Whoever she was, she was not the Kat he knew. But he had no idea what they were to one another in this universe, no idea why she was knocking timidly on his door so late at night, and he had no idea what her Gabriel would say to her.
He settled on a gruff, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were doing,” replied this universe’s Kat.
How would her Gabriel respond to that? How would this universe’s Gabriel be doing mere days after losing his crew?
Gabriel waved a vague hand, the gesture left open to interpretation.
“I came to see you at the hospital,” Kat said, “but they said family members only.”
Friends then. In this universe they were good enough friends to visit each other in the hospital. Good enough friends to follow up with house calls on stormy evenings. Gabriel could be friendly.
He stepped aside. “Come in.”
Did that sound friendly enough? Too friendly? He scowled at the back of her head as she stepped inside. He hated this universe.
Gabriel shut the door and went to finish pouring the drink she’d interrupted.
“Sorry about the lighting,” he said, noting the way she looked around the darkened living room. “Doctor’s orders.” It was the truth, but his eyes were not photosensitive because he’d witnessed an antimatter explosion as the doctors believed.
And before she could ask about that, Gabriel lifted the whiskey bottle in indication. “Can I tempt you?” One thing he’d learned while searching his doppelgänger’s apartment: the other Gabriel Lorca had damn good taste in whiskey.
Kat looked at him, scrutinizing him for long enough that Gabriel began to worry he’d made a mistake with his offer. Did she drink? Was he supposed to know what she drank? Should he put on a shirt?
Finally, she said, “Sure,” but the small smile she graced him with did nothing to ease his concern.
“How are you doing?” she asked after he’d handed her a glass. Her eyes flicked to his chest. He should probably put on a shirt, but he flung himself onto the couch instead. Surely even this universe’s Garbriel would be afforded the minor lapse in etiquette after recent events. Kat took the hint and sat in the adjacent armchair.
Gabriel spun his glass in his hand and considered his words carefully, weighing them against what little he knew about his counterpart. The Federation wasn’t the Terran Empire, but the other Gabriel was still a soldier. A soldier was never out of the fight.
“Ready to get back to work,” he said finally. A soldier’s answer.
“When’s your evaluation?” Kat asked. The psych evaluation he would have to pass if wanted to return to duty as the other Gabriel.
Gabriel couldn’t help the way his face wrinkled in disgust. The inhabitants of this universe were weak, so concerned about feelings and evaluations. They would be easily conquered.
“Day after tomorrow,” he said.
“Expedited,” was the adjective Command had used. No time for wallowing or grief. Get back to the front. War was like that. The inquiry into the loss of the Buran was rushed, a final decision dependent on the outcome of his evaluation, said his court-appointed JAG officer. It wasn’t like there was any evidence to refute his story, Gabriel had made sure of that, and the people here were so naively trusting.
“Who’d they assign you?”
Figuring she meant his psychiatrist, Gabriel said, “Van Gelder.”
Kat nearly choked on her drink, eyebrows rising in surprise.
“You know him?” It was not a name Gabriel recognized from his own universe, but that didn’t mean much.
“I went to grad school with him,” Kat explained, frowning slightly. “But his current work is focused on criminal rehabilitation.”
Gabriel took a sip of his drink to hide his face. So. This Kat was a trained psychologist. He would have to tread carefully around her.
“War makes soldiers of us all,” he said. A simple truth, seemingly sage words to lend distraction.
“That it does.” Kat sat with that a moment, sipping her drink, then said, “Speaking of… I short-listed you for the Discovery. Your primary mission would be getting the spore drive fully operational. We need it if we are to have a chance at winning this war.”
Spore drive? Even in his own universe, Gabriel was unfamiliar with such technology, and there had been no mention of the ship or the drive in the other Gabriel’s files, but he nodded as if he knew what she was talking about. “I’ll get your drive operational.”
“I know. I told them if anyone could do it, you could.” Her eyes dipped to his lips, lower, lingering warmly.
Oh.
That was different.
But, considering it, Gabriel couldn’t help his smile. The perfect outlet for his rage indeed.
He sat up, leaned forward, ensuring she noticed when his eyes fell to her mouth, his naked appreciation for the way her uniform clung to her curves.
She was different from the Kat he’d known, who would have already strung him up by his entrails for daring to look. Different, but the same enough, and he wondered if this one was indeed as pliable as she seemed. He would thoroughly enjoy finding out.
This Kat blushed under his scrutiny. “I should go.” Her voice was velvet crushed in a fist, and Gabriel longed to hear it tear on a scream. Raptured or tortured, he didn’t care as long as his were the hands that ripped her asunder.
“Why?” he asked, pitching his voice low.
“This can’t happen.”
Again, “Why?”
Kat scoffed. “For a hundred reasons. You just lost your entire crew. You’re clearly grieving. You’re not thinking—”
Gabriel tsked and shifted on the couch, moving closer, knees touching, a sharp inhale of breath Kat tried to hide. “You should know better than to make that assumption, Doc. My mind is perfectly clear.” He reveled in the chagrin that colored her face, in the way her resolve visibly crumbled before she swallowed and shuttered her expression.
“This can’t happen.” But she sounded uncertain.
“Then maybe you should go,” he said, making it very clear what would happen if she stayed.
For a long moment she sat there, her indecision evident in the way her eyes held his, the slight part of her lips, the blush that still lingered in her cheeks. He would have her eventually, he knew, regardless of what the other Gabriel was to her. If not tonight, then another, after he’d sufficiently worn down her defenses, and he would relish the chase.
But then she set her glass on the coffee table and stood. “Thank you for the drink.”
It was a goodbye if he’d ever heard one, so he stood and watched her go.
“And Gabriel,” she said just before she reached the door, turning back, her eyes running up and down his body with the impersonal mien of a livestock appraiser. “Shave before your eval. You look like hell.”
And then she was gone, leaving him standing there, scowling indignantly at the other Gabriel’s front door.
As he made his way to the bedroom, Gabriel ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the several day’s growth he’d been ignoring. He was loath to admit it, but her advice was probably sound. He glared at the door as though she could feel the force of his resentment through the walls. “Damn this universe.”
But he would need this “Starfleet” and their resources if he was ever going to find a way home. And he would make it home. One way or another.
Until then…he downed his drink. He had a part to play. “Never out of the fight.”
6. would you rather be permanently moving/on the road, or live in the same place for your whole life?
I’m going to have to co-out and say I don’t know. Since leaving for college I have not spent more than four years in the same house for reason or another, so I really don’t know what it’s like staying in one place as an adult, and as a result, I don’t feel attachment to houses. That said, I do one day want to find that place to “put down roots,” but feel like I’d get bored. So 🤷‍♀️
9. how would you survive an apocalypse or at least attempt to?
Answer here. Though, I will add that I originally thought this question said “zombie apocalypse.” 🫣 However, my answer remains the same.
22. favourite time of day/night?
And time I can curl up with a book or carve out some time to write.
The Heart of the Matter • The Matter of the Heart
Chapters: 1/1 (1,373 words)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen, F/M
Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager (TV)
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris
Characters: Kathryn Janeway, Tom Paris, Owen Paris
Additional Tags: ficlet pairing, pre-canon, references to Mosaic beta canon, post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), courtroom inner dramas, reader’s choice for romantic or platonic
Summary: Two ficlets, the first with Janeway watching Tom’s court hearing after Caldik Prime, and the second with Tom doing the same for Janeway after Voyager gets home.
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