It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
I scheduled this in 2025 to give you all a week to make Moon Day Monday preparations! I think I will order a little rocket cake or bake some moon phase cookies!
No but the Hunger Games really said "what do you hate more- the atrocities or the people who commit them against you? Because like it or not there IS a difference. If you hate the people who commit acts of pure evil more than you hate the acts themselves, what will stop you from becoming just like your enemies in your pursuit of justice? What will keep you from commiting those very same acts against THEM when the opportunity arises? And what then? The cycle of pain and suffering will never stop. Round and round it'll go. Nothing will ever change. But. BUT. If you hate the atrocities. If you hate the vile, senseless acts MORE than you hate the people who did them to you. If you are able to see that evil is evil regardless of who does it... The cycle ends with you. No, you may never get justice. But you will never be responsible for making others, even your enemies, suffer the same crimes you have. The atrocities will never be committed by you, never by your hand. And that's the way you change the world. It's the ONLY way" and that's why I am sure it will never stop being one of the most relevant works of fiction ever created
In this mix of comic and story, a new programmer gets trapped in the circus, but she came with tricks up her sleeves. The circus and its ringmaster aren't too sure how to feel about this... development. What will happen next??? Tune in to find out!
It started simple... just a small exploration of the old office building down the street. She wanted an escape, and it seemed like a good way to kill some time...
If only she had known about the headset...
“I am Caine, the Ringmaster of Revelry, the Maestro of Madness, the Conductor of Calamity, the—”
“—am I trapped here!?!!??” The girl blurted.
Caine paused. “Well, trapped is such a dreary word. I prefer ‘digitally relocated for the sake of eternal entertainment.’”
She looked up, frantic and fearful at the weird chomper teeth talking to her. "Wait, what? No no no--" But any protests fell on deaf ears as the world folded in an origami crane and she was whisked away to that first adventure.
I am but a simple person who wants to give CAINE a hug, and appreciate him. Behold this comic thing-y I'm making to fulfil that wish!
So sorry guys, I've recently been slammed with mid terms and general spring time craziness on top of getting a grant for an event I now have to plan for April.
Updates might get slow in this case, but I do have some doodles of a storyline I was thinking up for a character of mine! (Going to call her Nox to distinguish from Nova's storyline)
The Pink page is the first page in the "comic"
In this particular AU, Nox is a scavenger on a colony that had been ravished by war. Some Starfleet personnel beamed down to help, but were a bit careless with their supplies. Hence, Nox took some supplies (and their ship!) and fled from the colony. Consequently, she's a space pirate now on the run from Starfleet.
I imagine she goes by the name "Event Horizon" or something dramatic of the like. She's really, really good at escaping from tricky situations, hence why she survived in the colony.
You may also notice her outfit is more akin to TNG instead of TOS. I'm not quite sure when she is, but I think I've settled on that she's from an alternate universe (Q or another trickster probably messed with her timeline placement). Her uniform is also not a true Science uniform, but kind of meshes components of other uniforms as well--Perhaps not well pictured in the drawings.
I want to flesh that story out after I finish Spock's log
(I may doodle more if you guys are interested to fill the gaps of writing updates, just let me know)
At a playdate, the playdatee’s younger sibling is telling me about local man-eating tigers and I am asking supportive questions because that’s how you a) support conversational skills development and b) tease truly magnificent weirdo stories out of the babble of social lies. The playdatee comes by and in typical older sibling fashion says
“Hey, he’s lying. In case you didn’t know.”
“She knows” says my child, “she just pretends to believe people who are lying to be nice. CLASSIC my mom.”
Young man you are only six years old come back here and explain how you know that. I mean don’t I have to get this conversation about a tiger eating someone’s head at the trampoline park back on track but I WILL be circling back.
As a daycare worker, yes. Kids say some of the silly goofiest things. I think it's interesting how some call out their peers on lies and others believe wholeheartedly. Interesting period socialization is from approximately ages 2-10
Spock tapped his fingers on his desk in his room. A bad habit perhaps but his room was far too quiet. The dinner was not as… bad as he had thought it would be. After nearly drowning in feeling—-he didn’t realize that so many people would make such an emotional minefield. Though in retrospect it made sense. Humans were so much more volatile in their emotions than Vulcans were, so of course the atmosphere would be saturated in their thoughts and feelings. Though he regularly shielded his mind, he had never encountered such a large volume in such a small space. If it wasn’t for your presence…
Spock stiffened, deciding not to finish that thought. It was a culturally enlightening experience, nothing more. Spock perhaps understood your underlying loneliness these past few days and he could see why his mother had been so attached to the earthen holidays. His eyes drifted to the console that connected to the intergalactic web. He had never made a point to call his mother since he left for academy… then again, he had never been far enough from home for it to really matter.
Did you call home? Spock wondered. Humans seemed likely that they would attach such sentimental value to calling. The touchpad sat there tauntingly. He resumed his tapping fingers, if only for the melody to track his roaming mind. It would be logical to call after a staple human tradition, Spock supposed.
There were other things to do, he knew. The project was finished, but there were other classes and tests to study for, especially given that there was a month left in the semester. There were notes he could make for his pet project of observing humans, there were holochess or 4D chess practice rounds he could simulate, there even was the prospect of running through practicing his presentation. His eyes drifted to the console again.
Reluctantly, he decided to open a channel for a long-distance interstellar transmission: Recipient Amanda Grayson.
***
The call went… surprisingly better than he thought it would. Not that it would have gone wrong—logically speaking, his mother was human and extremely supportive of Spock studying at Starfleet instead of Vulcan. The probability she would not have responded positively was 12.3%, and the percentage there is due to not calling sooner. Sarek is another story, the probability of him being upset was 87.7%, but he didn’t show on the call so Spock couldn’t confirm whether his prediction was correct.
Nevertheless, when classes started back the next week, Spock felt illogically lighter than he had in a long time. He hypothesized it must something to do with Amanda, as illogical as it is to receive comfort from the fact his mother is well and cheering him on. Humans tended to spread their illogical sentimentality even over holocall it would appear. Spock strode into the class early as usual, taking the far left seat on the third row. He set up his PADD at the optimal incline of 30 degrees and then waited as other students trickled in.
The classroom filled with the usual hum of returning cadets—laughter, greetings, the clatter of gear being stowed. Spock remained still at his desk, undisturbed by the noise, mind busily noting patterns and routines. You were not present yet, and as the professor entered, Spock hypothesized you would be arriving late… as usual. Just before the class actually began, you slipped through the door, flashing a bright grin at Spock as you took the seat next to him.
Your hair was slightly damp again, Spock noted, but there was an umbrella now tucked under your arm that brought an odd sort of satisfaction. A triumph of logic over human carelessness. You were wearing that scarf you had borrowed him a while back. You appeared lighter as well, perhaps the dinner was helpful for you indeed, Spock observed.
Spock acknowledged you simply with a nod as the professor began, though something in his posture shifted subtly—a relaxation only someone who knew Vulcan body language would notice. Logic suggested this reaction was residual from shared project success and emotional exposure during Pike’s dinner…
Spock chose not to dwell on those thoughts. They were just small notes he’d add to his file on you later. Irrelevant, logically speaking.
As the class drew to a close, the professor announced presentations would be starting next week. Excitement and dread rose in the room as students reacted. Spock observed the class’s reactions with mild detachment—Presentations were inherently stressful for humans due to their reliance on emotional validation during performance. But not for him. The professor dismissed them with a reminder to sign up early if they wished specific time slots.
“Nova,” he said without turning his head, voice low but clear enough to carry just to you. “We should claim our time now before optimal slots are taken.”
There was a signup sheet posted on the PADD to fill out. Spock turned to you, to see you looking at him expectantly. “I suspect you’ve already calculated the most optimal time to present, so I’m good with whatever you pick!” You smile calmly at him, perhaps a bit more relaxed than he would have expected. Though your calmness didn’t surprise him.
He pulled up the sign-up sheet, scanned available slots with clinical precision—no wasted motion—and immediately tapped his selection: Thursday at 1400 hours
Midweek. Late enough in the cycle that other presentations had been given and reviewed, but not so late that fatigue would interfere. Optimal scheduling for retention of audience focus and it was after lunchtime (when blood sugar levels peaked). Human cognitive performance favored postprandial states. Logical choice all around. Spock said as much to you and you simply nodded in response as you both packed up to leave.
“You nervous at all?” You tease slightly as you and Spock walk out.
Spock raised an eyebrow at you. “Negative,” he stated flatly. “Our preparation has covered all contingencies: data accuracy at 98.7%, presentation flow optimized to within 2% margin of error, and we have rehearsed sufficient times to account for variable audience engagement. …Are you nervous?”
“I’m… not thinking about it. Like you said, we’ve practiced and got it down to routine. Optimized to a 2% margin of error!” You shrugged.
Spock absorbed your response with quiet approval. Suppression of anticipatory anxiety was an efficient coping mechanism—one he himself employed regularly before high-stakes missions or examinations.
“Good,” he said simply, though internally noted the way you’d mirrored his phrasing back at him. The mimicry was not lost on him as you appeared to use his logic for stability. And… that pleased something deep within his logical core. Not emotionally, but operationally, especially this partnership functioned better than any other he'd experienced. It would be put to the test next week, and that would be the ultimate demonstration of his hypothesis.
ALSO! I realize it is very early (or late, depending on how you look at it) to begin working on a christmas project, but I'm going to do just that!
So while rummaging around my bins of old stuff, I found a glue candle child me made. Now college me looked at it, put it on a head, and decided, you know what? It looks like the ghost of Christmas past!
So now I want to make a doll with it. Stay tuned for updates
(There's also a Youtube Video on my channel about it: https://youtu.be/HL_h0hI-gRA)
Also some character poses because it might be fun to reanimate the classic tale (Because it obviously doesn't have enough already) in my imagining, the ghost of Christmas past has a bit of whimsy-ness to him, like Peter Pan if you will.
Sorry Guys, I got really stuck on this one part and have been struggling... Sorry if the ending drops off, but I can't continue without pulling teeth, so tadaaa
Next
Previous
Masterlist
Wednesday, illogically, passed very quickly and also not fast enough at the same time. Spark donned his usual thermo-undergarments and Starfleet uniform, deciding those were more than appropriate for a gathering at the Thanksgiving dinner. He had eventually sent a message to Pike with a simple acceptance of the invitation. Pike enthusiastically responded, glad to have Spock arriving and even more cheery when informed that Spock was bringing someone else. Spock ignored the implications of bringing you as a “plus one.”
At the time of 1720 hours, Spock arrived at the hover stop, taking the time to prepare himself. You had pinged him that you would be leaving 10 minutes ago, which appeared to be ahead of schedule, so Spock logically concluded it would be best to arrive early. Of course, no matter how much technology had advanced, things like the hover cars can always be unpredictable, and he was uncertain if you had arrived early or later. Regardless, he waited.
You arrived at 1737, on time as expected and Spock stood patiently as you made your way over to him. As you approached, he saw that you had done some makeup, applied some lipstick and blush that made your features stand out. You wore a casual, but fancier outfit than he usually saw you in. It appeared warm and practical for the weather, all logical choices Spock noted as he observed your form.
“Good evening!” You exclaimed, when you were close enough in the cheery way you usually did.
Spock nodded once in acknowledgment. “Good evening. How was your shift?” He inquired.
You lit up, pleased to talk about the going on at your workplace. As you rambled, Spock led the way to Cadet Pike’s apartment. Good things appeared to be happening at your work: Your tardy colleague finally got what was coming to her and was fired from her position and you were given a pay raise. Spock hummed appreciatively, knowing how hard you worked. He had no doubt you deserved such a pay raise. Then, you asked how his day was, so Spock replied, the conversation turning to the academic projects he had been working on and completed. Although he was sure some of it went over your head, your eyes sparkled as you watched him in earnest. It puzzled Spock slightly at the illogical satisfaction he felt at the sight.
Soon you both arrived at the door of the apartment, the lights and music giving away the number of people there. At least a dozen, Spock grimaced slightly, taking a calming breath before he knocked. Attending social gatherings was not something he engaged in since the days of his youth. Even still, nothing would compare to this one. Humans do not have the logical structure in their rituals that Vulcans did.
You peered at his side as the door opened and Cadet Pike greeted you both. “Howdy hey! Glad to see you two made it! Come on in!” He said warmly, gesturing inside. “I was beginning to think you were just kidding me, Spock, didn’t think you’d actually come.” Pike said.
Spock looked at the host rigidly, feeling his Vulcan practices lend aid in the unfamiliar situation. “Vulcans do not lie, Cadet. I wouldn’t make such a statement unless I meant it.” He stated stiffly.
“I see, I guess I’ll take you at your word then. And who is this lovely mademoiselle?” Pike answered, closing the door and turning his attention to you.
You cheerily introduced yourself, taking Pike’s hand in a handshake as Spock watched. “Thank you very much for inviting us, it's nice to get to celebrate with some people!” You said happily.
“That’s why I do what I do!” Pike smiled warmly. “You both have fun exploring around, dinner’s not for a half hour yet and some more folks are supposed to arrive.”
Cheerfully, you stepped forward into the room, Spock hesitating only slightly before following under Pike’s approving gaze… He was going to hear more about this later, wasn’t he? Inside were many cadets, some he recognized and others he did not, but certainly more than he was expecting to see. The lighting made it difficult to pick out features, it was too bright and dim at the same time. And they were all cheerful and chatting. It was oddly… pleasant? Encouraging? It was Un-Vulcan like. He could feel the closeness in the air, it was wrong, there were too many people. The lights were blending with the sound now, great. His eyes flickered, trying to catalog or count, looking for a door, trying to focus the logic back in his mind. It was almost too much, like soon he would start hearing thoughts as well as feeling them if it kept going—
“Spock?” Your voice cut through his mind, the Vulcan looking up at you as if caught out of a trance. He looked around, realizing he had drifted away towards a wall. Away from the people…
Carefully, he cleared his throat, recentering on you. “Yes?”
“You good there? You seem… out of it?” You ask, a touch far more gently than Spock could understand.
“I… am functional,” He instead replied. “Vulcans… do not have such celebrations. And, if we do, there is never this much of a… boisterous display of emotions.” He did not belong here
You looked at him, curiosity in your eyes, and Spock realized you would probably ask him questions about that statement. Your desire to “learn more about him” was slowly proving to wear down his walls, but he really didn’t want to think about that in this moment when the very presence of the room was suffocATING—
“Shall we take a look in the kitchen?” You ask instead and Spock doesn’t know how to respond for a moment.
“What would the purpose be to go there?” Spock responded after a moment.
You roll your eyes at him, “I’m curious about the food. Come on!” And then you turn and walk in a random direction.
It takes Spock a moment, eyes flickering after you and back at the living room—suffocating, filled, oh hey it’s Gerald—before following you there. The entrance to the kitchen is surprisingly obvious, once Spock and you cross the threshold, and Spock takes note of the various dishes all around. The scents filled the air, but compared to the pressing emotions in the other room, were manageable.
“So I guess it's a potluck, huh?” You state and Spock breathed. It was not suffocating here, he would not collapse, it was just a social gathering. By the stars would his father be embarrassed if he saw Spock now.
Spock searched his mind for the definition of the word. “A potluck is a communal feeding practice designed to reduce individual labor burdens and increase social cohesion. Each participant provides a dish for the whole to be enjoyed. So it does appear.”
You hum, still surveying the dishes. “Anything look particularly appealing to you?”
Spock watches you, the noise from before now muffled in the quiet kitchen where he can think clearly. He then looked at the dishes, able to catalog some of them from traditional human cuisine, while others didn’t look the slightest bit familiar. “...Perhaps the salad.” He settled on at last.
You grinned at him, mischievously. “You’re not picking that because that’s the only dish you know, are you?”
“Negative. It is simply the most effectively prepared dish and has no excessive nutrients.” Spock answered reflexively.
“So you like your food as logical as your company?” You tease.
“That’s not… While true I don’t recognize some of these dishes, there are others I don’t. And I can tell by the smell alone that most of them are likely filled with various earthen spices. Vulcan anatomy is different to humans and we are vegetarians, thus I pick salad because it is a plain, reliable dish.” Spock defaults to explaining. You hum again, studying the foods. Then you start explaining each dish to him and what it most likely contains, in order of what you think his enjoyment of it would be.
And Spock—for an unfathomable reason—let you. It was purely educational, he reasoned, ignoring the fact that you taking charge of the conversation meant he could simply react. The hum from the living room now long dead, even as a few more cadets brought in dishes, the spike in stimulation didn’t come.
Soon, Pike came in, and seemed surprised to find that you and Spock had taken up refuge in the kitchen, but soon started the feast. All the cadets gathered in the kitchen, the room filling with that uncomfortable pressure as they joined hands to give thanks… but you were next to him, and Spock took a breath and steeled himself. A moment later, twenty-two cadets had passed through the food line and took up various spots in the living room, kitchen, and hallways, settling down from the chaos earlier.
Spock and you passed though almost last, and once you had gotten your food, your eyes set about searching for a suitable place to sit. Spock followed, the calmness now in the living room a welcome respite from the previous noise. You sat on the couch with the S triplets and Spock sat next to you, lettuce, corn casserole, and green beans on his plate.
*Throws a wild Professor!Spock x Professor!Reader at you*
Here! take it! (He may be a little OOC, now that I look over it again...)
In this universe, Spock has been working as a professor in starfleet academy for a while, so I imagine he's softened a bit in his emotions at this point, which is why he might be a bit looser. Enjoy!
Word Count: 3050
You boarded the shuttle car heading to Starfleet Academy with a bit of a nervous thrill in your chest. You, Master's degree in Communications and Social Scientist with numerous species across the galaxy, were finally taking a shot at professorship. You had applied to many different Universities of course, but the one you looked forward to the most was the prestigious Starfleet Academy. It was notoriously difficult to get into though, not all too different from when you had applied as a student and been rejected, but that's what made now so thrilling! You had a shot at entering as a professor.
Boarded with your fellow passengers, you tried to rehearse your interview points to get your bearings. What are your qualifications?
Master's degree, years of experience, twice awarded for contributions to the field.
Why should they hire you?
You were the person for the job! Been training since college to work with others and build communication skills.
What research do you do?
Working with identifying communication patterns in customs and cultures of all species and developing ways to build emphatical skills in a variety of personalities.
How are you going to do teach?
Practical, hands on experiences. Role-play Scenarios. Sure those may be unorthodox compared to the traditional textbook approaches, but that's what makes it memorable! People skills really only develop with practice, and the best place to practice is in class, before they get to the field.
Even with rehearsing, you could still feel the nerves bubbling. But you knew that's what the interviewers would ask and you knew you had to be confident in your answers. You took another breath, deciding to survey your fellow passengers. There weren't many: A Vulcan man with a professor satchel nearby, three Betazoids appeared to be traveling as a delegations, a young Tellarite, and a smattering of humans around. Not all too different from what one would expect on a ship like this.
The nav-screen suddenly glitches as the docking clamps engage with a groan, the jerkiness of the motion throwing the whole craft off balance. You stumble forward before a hand grabs your arm, holding you in place. You hear some of the other passengers curse the jerky stop, but turn your head to the stotic voice beside you.
“Careful madam, shuttle crafts are not always steady. Though I guess this one wanted us to meet. Next stop: fate, probably.” The Vulcan man said, his voice soothing in a way you wouldn't expect to feel about a Vulcan. He released you as soon as you were steady, his eyes scanning you.
"Oh God, that's cheesy. Where'd you pick that up?" You laugh, a faint blush dusting your cheeks as you suddenly noticed how handsome this stranger was and the consideration he had for you. "Thanks for the catch, by the way." You add, softer.
His dark eyebrow quirks up into a half-raise, as if amused by your reaction. He offers a light shrug. "Not my finest line, I admit. Picked it up from an old earth film. My name is Spock, by the way."
"Pleasure to meet you," You smile back, and introduce yourself in turn. "Where might you be heading off to this fine evening?" You ask, intrigued by the Vulcan
Spock says your name, it rolling easily off his tongue. "A fitting name. This evening I am headed to the Academy for a meeting." He pauses, studying you with a thoughtful expression. "And you?"
You chuckle slightly, "How funny, coincidently I'm also heading to the Academy for a meeting." You answer.
A hint of intrigue flashed across Spock's face as you shared your destination. "A meeting, you say? Might I ask the nature of this meeting?"
"I applied to be a professor there and was heading for an interview currently." You explain as the shuttle doors slide open. It struck Spock as slightly odd that his meeting also happened to be regarding interviewing a prospective faculty member. His eyebrows furrowed in thought, and then realization dawned on him.
"Ah, I see." Spock said, a note of curiosity in his voice. He stepped out of the shuttle, holding the door open for you. "Perhaps we are heading to the same meeting."
You thank him for his politeness as you both begin to walk. "Are we now?" You ask curiously.
Spock nodded in response, his long strides matching your pace as you walk together toward the Academy. "It would appear that way," he replied. "I am the dean of the science department, so I will be one of the professors on the interview panel for the vacant position." He paused for a moment, studying you carefully, clinically.
"Oh!" You stated, somewhat taken aback. "How ironic we happened to bump into each other so early then," you state, although nervousness seeped back into your thoughts at the realization you were talking with someone who had the power to fire you before you even began.
You couldn't help as your thoughts raced, God, had you said anything embarrassing? Done anything weird subconsciously? Wait, Vulcans were telepaths, right? DID YOU THINK ANYTHING WEIRD!?!???
"Yes, quite ironic indeed." He replied, his voice calm and composed. If he noticed, he didn't let on. Please let it be that he didn't notice... "But please, do not feel intimidated. I assure you, my judgments are based purely on merit, and I evaluate candidates based on their qualifications for the position, nothing more." Well shoot.
“Haha, am I that easy to read?” You say, although you do relax. A little. You were still on edge but feeling better at his reassurance. “You will have to forgive my nerves. As you yourself know, the difficulty of getting here makes me a little bit more nervous than I usually would be for an interview.”
Spock's lips curled into a subtle half-smile, and you could only imagine what he was thinking. "Indeed, it is only natural for you to feel some nerves about this interview. The journey to the Academy is not for the faint of heart." He paused for a moment, studying you once more before continuing. "Tell me, what drew you to apply for the professor position in the first place?"
“I have always enjoyed learning and teaching, so of course, being a professor seemed like the best position. And with the type of research, I’m also applying to do, the Academy is one of the few institutions suited to meet my expectations and caliber of research,” You answer honestly, a familiar confidence of knowing your work seeping into your features. You follow the pace that Spock has set, finding yourself enjoying the conversation as you begin to explain about the research you do.
He listened intently, whether intrigued by the passion and confidence in your voice or if he was just being polite, you tried to ignore as you shared your reasons for applying. You hoped your obvious enthusiasm for your field of research was what piqued his interest and made a favorable opinion.
"You speak of your research with such conviction, what is the focus of your work, if I may ask?" Spock asked, and you decided to take that as encouragement. Vulcans were hard to please and even harder to read.
"I work in communications and cultures. The social sciences pretty much," You answer, going on to explain how you look at the details of cultures and traditions. Before you knew it, you had both arrived at the door where the interview was to take place.
Spock nodded in understanding, you hoped he was impressed by the depth of your knowledge. The two of you arrived at the door to the interview room, and Spock held it open for you with a chivalrous gesture.
"It has been a pleasure conversing with you," he said, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "I look forward to the interview and learning more about your work." He added as you entered the room together.
Once inside, Spock noticed the other professors on the interview board waiting for your arrival. He took a seat at the table, his sharp gaze studying you with growing interest.
Your breath hitches slightly as you go to take your own place to be interviewed. It was one thing to know, but to actually be there brought that rush of nervousness back. You took a deep breath, smiling in an attempt to dispel the nerves as you studied each of the five professors on the panel. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to interview for the position of communications professor," You began, this part of introducing easy enough
The panel members, including Spock, nodded in response, their expressions a mix of curiosity and professionalism. One professor, a human with a nametag that read Dr. Sanchez, leaned forward slightly, her eyes betraying a glimmer of intrigue. You noted the name from your study of the academy as the Dean of the Languages department.
"Good morning, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, could you provide us with a brief overview of your qualifications and relevant experience for the position?"
"Of course," You began listing the places you had studied at, including a brief research and professing position with the Harvard-Beta Academy, Starfleet's runner up. Dr. Sanchez asks the usual interview questions and you answer. You begin a little stiff, but eventually relax into it by the third and fourth questions. You follow what you had practiced and prayed everything went well.
The interview continued smoothly, Dr. Sanchez and the other professors posing thoughtful questions that allowed you to showcase your expertise in communications and cultural sciences. You found your gaze fleeting to Spock, who observed silently. The other judges you could see their expressions clearly, while the Vulcan's was crisp and flat. Not a hint of expression.
"Thank you," Dr. Sanchez said, her voice betraying a hint of satisfaction as the questioning wrapped up. "We have one final question for you."
"Yes?" You ask politely
Dr. Sanchez leans forward, her gaze growing thoughtful. "In your opinion, what role do communication and cultural understanding play in the success of Starfleet's missions, both on and off the ship?"
The room grew quiet, the other professors on the board waiting for your response.
You answer after a moment of thought. "To begin with, one of the key principles of maintaining a smooth workflow and helping boost collaboration between team members is by ensuring understanding between all members, as seen in many studies. One of these key features is by minimizing misunderstandings. One of the main causes of misunderstandings in through cultural ignorance or a lack of communication between people. Off ship, this is even more crucial as there is often not even a common thread. Within a crew, there is a common driving force to keep the ship running and meet the goals of the voyage. Off the ship, its every person for themselves and thus more individualism." You go through, citing sources of the importance for cultural awareness and communication basics before ending your answer.
You took note of the impressed glances the other professors exchanged, though you felt a slight swell of pride and seeing a nod from Spock.
"Very insightful," Dr. Sanchez nodded. "It seems you possess a profound understanding of the significance of effective communication and cultural sensitivity within Starfleet." She paused for a moment, turning to the other professors. They held a brief whispered conversation before Dr. Sanchez looked back at you.
You were dismissed from the room and told to wait outside so the panel could discuss amongst themselves. You took a step outside, the double doors shutting behind you with a kind of finality. You sat on a nearby bench, alone for now. Silence surrounding you like a heavy veil as your thoughts swarmed. The weight of your performance during the interview sank in, both feeling like a release and a new kind of vice as the waiting game began. Minutes ticked by, each second feeling like an eternity.
You wondered what they were saying about you. There were things you had said differently than you rehearsed, things that made you feel like you had shot yourself in the foot. Perhaps you had gotten your hopes too high, perhaps they would say no. You thought back to Spock, who had essentially just sat there while the others did all the questioning. Was he disappointed? Were you too relaxed on the walk up here? Why were you even worrying about the opinion of one man you had met? Because he struck your fancy...
And you felt your cheeks grow warm again. Now was certainly not the time for this, you shook your head to clear the thought. Then took a deep breath to calm your racing heart. So what if you had taken a fancy to him, there's nothing wrong with that. It was fine. You would be fine.
After what felt like an eternity, the doors slowly creaked open, and Spock emerged from the room. He spotted you sitting on the bench and approached you with a composed stride.
"Madam," he said, his voice holding its usual neutrality. "The professors have come to a decision regarding your application."
"And they sent you as the harbinger of bad news?" You jest nervously.
Spock's eyebrow ticked up a fraction at your attempt at humor. "Hardly," he replied, a hint of dry humor in his tone. "I've been tasked with delivering the results personally." He paused for a moment, his piercing gaze studying you intently.
"...And they are?" You ask, nerves still tingling in your voice, although less after hearing that it wasn't bad.
Spock's lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile at your nervousness. "The professors were quite impressed with your qualifications and answers during the interview." Spock began, his voice steady and serious. "I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the vacant communications professorship at the Academy."
"Yay!—" You cheered before remembering your professionalism and pausing. "I'm honored to receive the position, thank you for informing me." You begin again in a professional tone, but your smile still clearly showed your excitement
A small smile tugged at the corner of Spock's lips as he observed your momentary lapse in composure, followed by a swift return to professionalism. "You are most welcome, Professor," he replied, his tone measured and even. "I believe you will be a valuable asset to both the Academy and the science department."
“Sooo, who do I contact now to start?” You ask, eager to begin
Spock nodded, appreciating your enthusiasm and eagerness to get started. "I'll be handling your onboarding process," he replied, his voice caring his authority. "You'll be receiving official paperwork and information regarding your position in the upcoming days. However, I'd like to discuss a matter with you now, if you have a moment."
“Okay, I have the rest of the day free. What need we discuss?” You had toned back down into your usual professionalism—cheery but not overly so—as you watch Spock.
Spock studied you a moment, his gaze thoughtful.
"Walk with me," he said, gesturing with a hand for you to walk beside him as he began to stroll down a corridor. "I would like to discuss a proposal I have for you, one that falls outside your official duties as a professor."
You follow along, taking in some details of the architecture and portraits littering the academy, but paying attention to Spock mostly. “What do you propose?” You ask innocently.
"I am in the process of planning a research expedition, an off-world mission focused on cataloguing and studying the life on a recently discovered planet within the CAIA system." He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "I believe your expertise and skills would be invaluable in this expedition."
“Truly?” You ask, a little surprised but also clearly intrigued. “You’ve only just met me though, surely there are other professors who might be more suited to the task that you have better rapport with? I’ve also not really established in academics—I’d love the opportunity and can do it, don't get me wrong! But I’d hate to take away an opportunity from another professor who’s been here longer,” You explain your confusion. Spock took in your words with a thoughtful expression.
"I understand your reservations," he began, his voice steady and assured. "But I assure you, I have weighed the options carefully, and your skills and knowledge in communications and culture perfectly align with the objectives of this expedition." He paused for a moment, studying you intently. "It has nothing to do with anyone's tenure here."
“Ah, well if you’ll have me then, I’d be thrilled to help!” You answer, smiling at him. You both walk in a beat of silence before you ask again, “I assume there will be others, who else will be coming?”
"Indeed, there will be a team accompanying us," he responded with a flicker of satisfaction. "I have handpicked a few other professors with expertise in various fields to form a well-rounded team. In addition, a few Starfleet personnel will be part of the expedition as well, primarily in support and safety capacities." He paused for a moment, studying you with a curious gaze. "Is there anyone in particular you were wondering about?"
“Not really, I was just wondering if I might be working with some of my future coworkers.” You answer, slightly sheepish.
A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Spock's lips at your slight flustered reply, finding your sheepishness to be a touch endearing. He understood the natural curiosity you had about your future colleagues, and he chose to provide you a glimpse into the team that had been assembled.
"Ah, I see," he said, his tone holding a hint of dry humor. "Well, in that case, I can tell you that the team consists of Professor Sulu, from the navigation department, and Lieutenant Commander Uhura from the communications department, among others."
"Oh! I see!" You answer, your eyes sparking in wonderment. Those were famous professors you looked up to. Spock noticed the subtle spark in your eyes, the excitement and admiration evident as he mentioned the other team members.
"Indeed," he replied, a hint of wry humor in his tone. "It seems the prospect of working alongside these renowned professors is quite thrilling for you."
"Oh, indeed! I'd never imagine I'd get this far so I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to." You reply, honestly.
You glance at the Vulcan again and swear you can see the ghost of a smile flicker his face.
"We are most thrilled to have you here as well, Professor."
ALSO! I realize it is very early (or late, depending on how you look at it) to begin working on a christmas project, but I'm going to do just that!
So while rummaging around my bins of old stuff, I found a glue candle child me made. Now college me looked at it, put it on a head, and decided, you know what? It looks like the ghost of Christmas past!
So now I want to make a doll with it. Stay tuned for updates
(There's also a Youtube Video on my channel about it: https://youtu.be/HL_h0hI-gRA)
Also some character poses because it might be fun to reanimate the classic tale (Because it obviously doesn't have enough already) in my imagining, the ghost of Christmas past has a bit of whimsy-ness to him, like Peter Pan if you will.
ALSO! I realize it is very early (or late, depending on how you look at it) to begin working on a christmas project, but I'm going to do just that!
So while rummaging around my bins of old stuff, I found a glue candle child me made. Now college me looked at it, put it on a head, and decided, you know what? It looks like the ghost of Christmas past!
So now I want to make a doll with it. Stay tuned for updates
Sorry, I'm a little slow on updates for Spock's Academic Log. I'm trying to come up with what happens at a Thanksgiving party and since classes have started for me, I'm also balancing work and school on top of that.
Aside from this, I'm debating cross posting my work from Wattpad here, including an original story of mine! Let me know what you all think
fanfiction is a rare gem and a solid, living proof that, in a world of tiktok, influencers and content posting, not everything is about money and going viral. art can still be art just for the sake of the artists’ pure love, joy and passion for the art they create. fanfic writers write 100k words and more about the characters they love for free. just because they love these characters and the art of writing so much. art is not dead and the world is still beautiful.
shoutout to fanfiction and fanfic writers
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