LONG LIVE THE KING @goldkiing - Tumblr Blog

#GOLDKIING

overview | independent roleplay blog for MIRROR JAMES TEE KIRK, a canon divergent character based in Star Trek's kelvin timeline/alternate original series.

my name is jay. mature content may not always be under a read-more. au, oc, & crossovers welcome — this blog is twenty-one plus only.

** please note that this muse is private & a sideblog to @fasciinating. interactions are reserved for activity/plots with my main blog; if we're not mutuals on spock and do not have or intend to plot here, please do not follow. brief blog notes & muse information under the cut.

#pinnedpost

let me assign you an affection language.

violent devotion.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

tagged by: @paramounticebound ( thank you! ) tagging: @endeavvor, @ensnchekov, @fatalhymn, & @scrapratsoldier!

#dash games.#oh no lmfaooooo

kingbirdkathy

Mirror Kirk

#muse.#q to the king.

mutiineer

MICHAEL GNAWS THE SIDE OF HER tongue, almost to bleeding. There’s this wicked impulse to revel inside of this brief unraveling; for fate to drag his face along jagged glass and force him to know a hole cut so precisely the shape of her brother into his soul, so exact that Kirk will never forget that details of Spock’s face, the sound of his voice, his scream - because it will be there ringing out in layered echos for as long as this fucking vibrant animal draws one ragged, breath after the other. How does it feel? HOW DOES IT FEEL? Dangerously she closed the gap between them, the knife in her hand no longer twirling, but held steadfast by its handle, poised to strike - almost impatient in its need to do so. Her steps were slow, measured, taking him in, the way she remembered it would fell the Vulcans they ran down, the bonds they severed by irrevocable death - and how the humans, her mothers humans, would call them weak. Lesser. Inferior. But he was living proof - the soul of any succumbs to the unfettered chaos of the universe, Jim Kirk was no better or no worse. ( he was absolutely worse then everyone she had ever met her entire life ) The stood arm’s length apart, something twitched upward at the corner of her mouth; “Well, Jim, it looks like you learned a very valuable lesson when it comes to taking without asking. A screaming reminder, ” Michael walks another step closer, fingers white knuckling around the knife's handle. "That hollowed out place, boring right through your middle, and nothing in this galaxy far or wide will ever fill it," she almost salivated while her eye stayed settled on Kirk's. " ... well," dragging the word out needlessly, " - except by the one thing you say that you saw." What she knew burned at her core, but if what he said was true, and if driven by the severing of his bond with her brother – there was a hateful part of her that believed what he said. But she knew without having to be told. “ – so how about we head down to the surface, anyway. See what we see?”

@goldkiing

goldkiing

IT WAS RED DUST AND SPICES. He knew them, drew them into his body and held them close with the daggers of his own ribs. Can’t she see that? Nostrils flaring, Kirk doesn’t move his eyes off her, doesn’t move his heart from the tip of her knife.

A part of him sings—

—bring me one step closer, I dare you.

And every atom in his arms and legs and his entire being rejoices at the thought of reunion, long legs in a crisp sheet, together again across the universe, always and together, never touching and touched: be by my side.

“ No one gives you anything. ” Kirk snipes, and it sounds like his own throat being dragging across broken glass. He pushes forward, “ We take it. ”

Terror must be maintained. Even when it comes to the things you love most.

He almost chokes on it.

“ And we’re going to take this, too. ”

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#TELL YOUR WITCH FRIEND TO BRING HER PARTY HAT

ensnchekov

There is something unsettling about the captain's gaze as it digs into him, burrowing jagged barbs deep into his flesh that no amount of tugging could ever hope to release. He feels trapped—cornered—and he would swear that the harsh shadows are twisting him, scraping away at the friendly, warm pieces of his face until nothing but a dark spectre remains.

This is wrong—everything is wrong, everything has been wrong since that explosion, since Cal—

And now the captain...

"Like you are right now?" Pavel challenges, sliding himself with some difficulty to the edge of the bed, away from the captain's hand, his face, those frigid eyes that could paralyse the soul—

They say character is what one is in the dark, but Pavel has seen the captain alone and there has never been this overwhelming sense of dread that radiated off him before. In the dark here, now, the captain twists into something vicious and hungry, freezing Pavel's blood in his veins.

"You need to leave, captain." Or else, goes unspoken, sad and pitiful at the edge of his weak, shaky voice. Physically, he is outmatched, and Pavel doesn't trust his legs to bear his weight for more than a few moments at best should he need to run.

But if whatever is happening to the captain is the same thing that happened to Cal, he may not have a choice.

He grips the edge of the bed with his right hand, steeling himself for the possibility, while his left fumbles blindly for the corner of the pillow.

I cannot believe I wish the doctor was here right now.

"—I did think I knew a person," Pavel says, though it is not Cal's face that flashes behind his eyes. "Is that why you are really here?"

goldkiing

FINGERS PLAY AT THE EDGE of a cotton sheet. At six years old, Kirk remembers having a blanket just like it. A cozy little thing with diamond shapes sewn into the fabric, a pattern of riches, all the gold fit for a tiny king.

But this one’s still scratchy and stiff, he thinks, something barely worn, smelling of starch and fading detergent even if it’s slowly — inevitably — staining with the scent of sweat and sick and fear.

Peering up from its wrinkled layers, one eye peeks just beyond the railing. Watching the other man, Kirk wishes they weren’t so easy to read, too easy to feel sorry for. These people, even their bedsheets reek of brand new, never wrung or twisted, never washed and rewashed, spin spin spinning in the cycler twelve times a day because you keep getting blood on it.

—what did I tell you, Jimmy?

Mom was never impressed with dead things.

“ No, ” he says, airily and thick with a sigh. The Pavel Chekov he knows was never this doe-eyed and scared. Or maybe he was. Maybe his Chekov just knew how to hide it better. What makes you quiver, makes you dead, after all, “ I think — I’ll stay a while. ”

Slowly, Kirk rises to full height, leering over Pavel with both hands fisted in the sheet, “ See, I never knew you to be this pathetic, Pav. Whimpering and shaking in hospital beds and now — just look at you — scared and trembling like a mouse caught in a trap. Run through by a man you called a friend. Something’s not quite right, wouldn’t you say? ”

@ensnchekov

#ensnchekov #verse. collider.#watch out for that pillow

mutiineer

MICHAEL'S EXPRESSION WITHERED, TAKEN IN BY a cold from way down in her bones, rooted in a meanness she was tapped into like a livewire anymore. But by what measure was this meant to sate her? In any other circumstance it would have driven her to blind anger, a squaring up to match them once and for all - in any other circumstance. Except she knew the one thing he couldn’t, at least not in whole and full. The Witch at the edge of the galaxy; the woman in white that haunted the darkest and most illicit parts of Michael’s dreams. If anyone would find a way into spying on the dreams of others, it would be Jim Kirk – but lucky for them all, today wasn’t that day. Today was a far stranger affair. She stayed still, fusing with the air around her, while she took in the man across from her. Finally, the most imperceptible twitch at the corner of her eye, and finally a sharp inhale of breath. “How do I know this is true? What proof did you bring? Or was this all hinged on the idea that the mere mention of my brother would spiral me to your feet, begging to know next steps? How can you even prove this to me or to anyone?”

@goldkiing

goldkiing

SOMETHING TWISTS INSIDE HIM AT THAT — who does she think he is? A liar. Rightfully. But hush, now, darling, he told the truth, he saw it, he saw him with his own two wild and weary eyes. So, Kirk breathes in, calls and lures and caresses the red sting of rage that swirls just inside the empty well of his chest, clawing, yearning, wanting to get out.

" I SAW HIM. " It screams, caked with saliva, hungry hungry all the time, " I know him. "

Kirk draws to full height then mutates, spine cracking when he raises his empty hand and beats — BAM BAM BAM — the tips of his fingers at the wall of his temple. " I know him. " Here, his mind screams. He knows him here. Knows the deep deep dark, the void that sucks out all of the light. It's made him so jagged, the tender barrier of his mind tainted with ripped threads and piercing the fleshy parts of his brain like a bloody crown of thorns. Kirk rubs both hands up his face, grips them into his own hair, tugs and yanks and screams. His knife flies past Michael's face and sinks into the wall behind her.

He would know him anywhere.

" I, am the proof. And I know, " he shakes a finger at her. It's shaking, weak — what has he done to you — and Kirk quickly takes his own digit into his mouth, bites down and breathes it out. Hush, now, " That you know it. You knew. " He was a part of me. " But if it's more you want. Then come to the surface with me. I'll show you. "

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#hi it's me. i'm the problem it's me

mutiineer

A FIST OF RAGE SEIZED AROUND her chest, threatening a close brush with some kind of major coronary. Michael struggled with the belief Kirk dreamt this up, stood straight, walked onto her ship, in a cognizant reality that suggested this was a good idea. So what was the deception? What was it meant to distract her from? “Copies,” she began tentatively. “You came here and expected me to believe that you found - copies - and that was supposed to do what, Kirk?” Tired, she folded her arms and leaned back on the desk. Gesturing vaguely, adjacent the length of the room from one another, Michael started, “ – let's say that I bought into this farce, Jim, then what’s the plan? Pretend to be them? You do realize it takes more than the identities of a slim few to hijack an entire … reality?” Bunrham waved a dismissive hand at her train of thought, it didn’t matter if this was a realm, a parallel reality; he did this, Kirk, did. Sucked people in, like the absolute singularity of all bullshit in the seeable universe. Impatient she unsheathed her thin, silver knife; subtle and fatal in equal measure, twirling it between the long fingers of her right hand. “What do you plan to do with your copy? Maybe go ahead and fuck yourself, you think?”

@goldkiing

goldkiing

SO, SHE DOESN’T. SHE DOESN’T GET IT.

Not a morsel or a sliver or teeny, tiny clue in that all for nothing skull she’s got. Squinting his eyes slightly, he envisions rapping his knuckles against the side of her head — knock, knock — but no one’s there! She seethes and spits and the lights aren’t even on.

Surprise, surprise, surprise.

“ Okay, ” the sigh he lets out is long and dramatic. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. “ I see we didn’t stick the landing. Let’s see if I can’t break it down for you, hm? ”

Kirk gestures to himself, “ If there’s one of me — which don’t tempt me on that last part alright? Turns out I’m just as handsome — and there’s one you, ” he points his dagger at her again, wondering idly when ( if ) the math will start mathing. " Then — stay with me, now, Mikey, I know this is reaalllly hard. I believe in you — there's a copy of someone else, with interest to BOTH of us. "

He smiles, all teeth, " I knew him by a few different names, " it's making him a little bit wistful, nostalgic, until his tone drops out deep into the dark. " And you, you knew him as your brother. "

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#LMFAOOOO

mutiineer

Michael's eyes fully close as she exhales, in one long slow breath, all the air and tempered patience she had left in her body. When she opens her eyes again, they settle on Kirk. "Well," Burnham gestures to the invisible audience of none around them, " - who the fuck was it, Jim?" Everywhere this man went, not far behind was a traveling shit show that he managed to ensnare into any met. Because was she really asking him this question? Was she really playing into this? She didn't have the strength from stopping herself, and why did she get the unnerving feeling Kirk knew that too? Sometimes she couldn't separate between all the different nerves of hers he unsettled. But - ...he knew something.

goldkiing

SHE INHALES AND KIRK EXHALES, A slow breath that’s suspiciously too smooth, smoother than any breath he’s taken in the last weeks he’s been alone.

All the time, every time, his chest hurts and his eyes hurt, his spine hurts and his brain hurts; that pesky, terrible hole in his head aches and throbs and wants to feel WHOLE again ( thanks for that Spock ) thanks—

—for nothing.

Kirk scratches his temple with the tip of his knife, leans back on the wall and one by one picks at the crust under his fingernails. They’re dirty brown and two days old, now, and in Kirk’s defense, Lieutenant Nau shouldn’t have been standing there, shouldn’t have been living and breathing and looking at him, looking at Kirk—

“ So, Cal and I, ” Kirk grins again, “ We end up on the other side of the, ” he gestures in a looping circle, “ Ring? Portal? Whatever. You get it. And, well, there are all these copies of us — me and you and even Cally-boy, there — like lookin’ in a mirror but, unseasoned; do you see where I’m going with this? ”

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#kirk vc: ANYWAY

mutiineer

KIRK'S PRESENCE ERODED AND BURNED THE AIR around her like some crude acid. Once she would have thought with her brother lost to them both it would have served as the universal invitation needed to - or at least make any discernible effort to do so - gut the other like river trout. Be that as it may – the depths of either of their focus had been well away from the other. Michael’s honed and divided between two focal points, with the most apparent and constant being the cosmic terror hurtling through the galaxy. Entire planets lay in some hollow purgatory of this entity’s gullet; the dead screaming in unrest. And with that always being assumed in consideration to everything, left Burnham with a one recurring question why the fuck was he here? It was made clear, down from Georgiou, he wouldn’t be given back his engineer who willfully refused service to anyone, anywhere, in the whole and wide of the Empire. So, why. Why, you terminal anal wart?

WHY?

“I could live a an infinite amount of days, but I will always remember the day when Jim fucking Kirk asked if I wanted anything from him?” Her laugh was mirthless, but exhausted all the same. “ – because Jim what I can’t shake the feeling that,” Michael rounded the long, narrow desk separating them, hands at her back, while one hand was tight around the hilt of her knife. A weapon she had taken to wearing since Vulcan was lost.

A reminder to the promise that was broken. “ – you want something. So why don’t you spare the fucking riddles and games.” Her hand rolled tighter around the knife’s hilt when she could hear the dry creak in her throat. Something that could have passed for tired emotion, or a rawness from overuse, even fried pieces of patience; all that she had left for any given thing that fell beyond the scope of her rigid focus of interest between atonement and revenge.

“What hollowed out bullshit did you bring today?”

@goldkiing

goldkiing

HE’S GOT HIS ELBOWS HUNG between two corners, a foot sweeping to and fro, back and forth, his mood on a swing. And like always, Michael is a CHORE, a dull knife that would twist inside his guts and pull out his stomach, oh so sharp; what will she find in there but bile and the empty maw of his wretched, starving soul?

Kirk smiles.

She thinks so clever. She thinks she knows just what he is.

A pest, an insect.

A boil on her skin.

“ Well, ” his eyes gleam, his arms lazy when they swing out, playing to the phantom music only he can hear, “ You are righ — t about that. I do — want — something. ”

He always does. He always will. What he is — he’s an animal — rabid and vicious and hungry, hungry, hungry all the time. These pins and stripes: they won’t feed him, they won’t quench his abominable thirst. He’ll drink from the faucet and the pool and the lake and the oceans, he’ll drink from every vein and bloodied heart there is and suck them dry.

He wants something.

And lucky, unlucky her! He knows she wants something, too—

—green and black and dead dead dead; all of it, turned to stardust.

“ So, listen carefully, okay? I know, I know. That’s all tall order for you. But!! I promise, I’ll make it worth your while — and my while — cross my heart and hope you die and all that. ” Kirk makes a scaring gesture across his own chest with his knife, “ I found someone — are you listening? — while I was on planet with Cal. You remember Cal? Red-headed fella with the stupid haircut. ”

He leans obnoxiously to one side, “ Guess who it was. ”

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#:DDDDD

mirror kirk, you miserable piece of shit, i love you.

#out of the chair.#and i hate him #hope he bites it in every plot he's ever in

goreprofonde

Because I’m my mother’s son, I leave the arrow in my throbbing heart. What kills me keeps me alive

- Paul Tran, Taint.

#muse.

fatalhymn

Her tongue was usually sharp enough to cut down anyone who tried to challenge her, but it wasn't enough to rid her of her current problem. He grins at her, and she pictures chipping each tooth, until he has nothing left to smile with. The monster in him entices the one in her; and that is the only thing that causes her to recoil, but he makes it hard not to slink down low into the blood and grime where he'd made his home.

For a moment, she blissfully thinks that she is better than him, and she can hold her head high with pride. But they both know the truth.

When Amelia blinks, she can still see the whites of his teeth, and suddenly her vision is red. Fist snaps out to collide with his cheek, before she can think to find some semblance of self-control. She can't decide what feels better, the pain she gives him, or the split across her own knuckles.

❝ Usually, I have better things to do than play with broken toys ⸻ but I have some free time to make you bleed. Sure. Let's play.❞

goldkiing

HER FIST CRACKS AGAINST HIS face, knuckles and bone on bone; Kirk tastes blood in his mouth, copper on his tongue. She wants to play and isn't that sweet? Trading pigtails for entrails and for a wistful, wonderful moment, it's just shiny scales and organs instead of woodchips and chains. He licks at the inside of his cheek, rolling his neck as his shoulders shudder and shake, laughter ha hA HA-ing out of red stained teeth.

Kirk was never lonely on the playground. Not with all the bones in the ground.

" You keep saying that. " There's no fun in it if she quits on him now. She's done what she said: made him bleed. But that's the easy part. Like anyone, Kirk is softer on the outside — or he pretends to be — a bad actor made of flesh and deceptive lines they call a smile. It's just that on the inside, there's nothing. Jim Kirk is HOLLOW AND EMPTY AND ALL BARREN echoes of warmth he never had and never wanted, cold from the faded heat of a warm bed that never lasts more than a single night. It never stays, nothing stays.

And now, he wants the rest, all rage and anger and gasps of breath always, always, all the time.

" But you're just — like — me. " His tongue traces out the inside of his bottom lip, eyes lit up and eager, " Broken. Used. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING. C'mon now, Amelia. You can do better than that. "

#fatalhym #verse. assassin #frowns

goldkiing

DING! DING! DING!

Isn’t, he, precious.

Old boy’s so close and yet so very far away. It’s almost cute, the sheer masking of confidence there, strange and wretched — and disgusting — on his own perfect face.

He’ll figure it out eventually, what Kirk is up to, what he means to do. Kirk is sure of it; he’s him and he and they and them after all. And one way or another — sooner rather than later — Kirk is going to find out just what lives and breathes and belongs to him on the other side of the glass—

It’s his, mine, broken and empty, and almost fanatically, a menagerie of new possibilities cuts and stretches at the corners of Kirk’s mouth, a noise of amusement — and boredom — crawling out of his throat and never quite sticking the landing. Somewhere in there, is a nasty little thing, rotten and falling apart.

“ Wow. ”

Kirk’s sarcasm is thick, blood in his mouth, and he pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. The irony of it all. “ You’re, uh, heh, you’re actually right about that. ”

They’re not the same. But they could be. In truth, Kirk is banking on it.

Albeit, for other reasons.

He sniffs loudly as he unravels. He pushes his thumbs into the steel bowl of his sink, pressing harder and harder and harder, white knuckling the basin and full of that want again; he wants it so badly. Everyone is replaceable.

A Spock is a Spock is a Spock.

“ I gotta say, I really loved this pep talk. ”

@endeavvor

endeavvor

The sarcasm does nothing but cause the captain's gaze to narrow. There is no masking an emotion that fails to exist, and while he does not believe he even has an ounce of a reading on the other, he does recognize the response for what it is. Surprise. That they could agree on something gives this mirror self hope that he could slip into this world and wear a mask. If Jim feeds him enough information, it could almost be seamless.

If Jim feeds it something, it could alert the others of the falsehood. He could still protect them, even if he were eliminated. An interesting thought, in theory, that he wished he had more time to dissect and ponder; however, he does not have the upper hand here.

Mimicking the movement, Jim avoids squeezing the basin of his own sink. He'd done so before, once, after a particularly rough mission. His fingers sink into the dents left then, a strength he hadn't once possessed, but did now.

A secret, potentially, an advantage.

Pressure.

An idea. It’s reckless given his prior thought of wanting to play dumb. But what does he truly have to lose? The bigger question: how would he get under his own skin?

"Say, how's dear old dad? He still pissed about the Corvette? Or is all of that brushed under the rug now that we're a big important captain?" This time, it's Jim that leans forward until his nose almost presses to the glass. "Don't tell me. He's dead on your side. That's what the issue is, huh? No one to pat you on the back, tell you they're proud."

Jim rocks back on his heels, his expression splitting with a toothy grin. "And mom. She still make you a big chocolate cake every birthday? Beg you to come home because she misses you?"

He shakes his head.

"No. I bet you're all alone. I bet you like it that way."

@goldkiing

#archived.#moved to discord.

ensnchekov

"You know I do not," he says, a sharp edge to those few simple words. Why would he, when it is the only thing people have ever seen on him, even before his intelligence?

Whose turn is it to babysit the kid?

You're too young to be here.

Why don't you leave this to the adults?

You'll never fit in.

Why would he, when his age is a weapon in anybody's hands pointed right at his chest that can be fired over and over and over again, burrowing deeper until all he can do is throw himself into his work, prove them wrong on skill and merit.

I have never been a kid, Pavel thinks, not even when I was young.

"And yet you are making the comment anyway. If you are here to insult me, captain, or treat me like a child, then I would rather you leave."

Pavel's eyes narrow, suspicion cutting through the layer of pain-medication induced fog in his eyes.

He is the captain, and the doctor's friend. He would know when he is off-shift.

A person only sneaks around when they have something to hide.

Cal's face, twisted and full of fury, flashes behind his eyes and Pavel sits up straighter, wincing at the flare of pain in his stomach, just below the gnarled, seared lump of raised flesh.

What if—

His heart slams against his ribcage.

"—You are avoiding the doctor." It is not a question. "So you snuck in, captain. To check on me—"

Maybe he sounds paranoid, but he thinks he has every reason to be given the circumstances, so he does not allow himself to dwell on it. If he is wrong, if this is just his paranoia born of the events of the last several hours, days—he isn't sure—then he hopes the captain will understand and forgive the lie.

"—even though you came to see me earlier."

goldkiing

KIRK PUCKERS HIS LIPS FOR A moment, his face scrunched when Chekov tells him in so many words that he should leave.

—see, there’s more courage in mice and rats than people think. They’ll scratch and tear and bite and chew. Filthy, treacherous, nasty. And Kirk knows that better than most.

He was one of them once.

He’s one of them, now.

Kirk claps his hands, both feet tugged back to the ground just as he bends to lean on his knees, get a closer look. Pavel’s all shook up, pale and sickly, rattled like a tin can with pebbles for brains, and yet here he is with all these questions and squintings and clever deductions all the same.

He licks his lips, tongue catching on a dry patch of skin — shoulda, coulda, woulda Ensign Chekov — but the rules were made by better beings, all ivory and glory and never ever ever the pawns or the rooks or lesser things.

“ Well, ” he starts slowly, a low sound grinding against the stones in his throat. The dim light cuts shadows into his cheeks. “ There’s for show, and then the show, Pavel. There’s a difference. A captain’s gotta have a pulse on his crew, figure out what makes them tick. People are different when they think no one’s looking. ”

One hand reaches out for the railing of Chekov’s bed, pulling himself closer and closer still. The sheets and plastic smell like sick, antiseptic, and cotton balls, clean clean clean — but Kirk can smell that, too — the dirty, little lies that make up all the bigger ones, big like fake Myshka’s doe eyes.

“ You think you know a person, and then, ” Kirk inhales, the noise sharp when it whistles past his teeth, “ They stab you with a lightsaber. " He peers over the railing, " Or they just won't die. "

@ensnchekov

#ensnchekov #verse. collider.#:D

ensnchekov

Something feels strange here.

Perhaps it is the cocktail of drugs the doctor had given him wreaking havoc with his already chaotic mind, making it seem as if everything has shifted ever so slightly off-centre. The room blurs slightly at the edges, his memories are fragmented and hazy, playing through the jagged frosted shards of a shattered mirror, and he is still not entirely clear on the events that brought him here in the first place.

A flash of light. Molten lava poured directly into his soul. Fire, raining down from the skyー

ーand now the captainー

Pavel stares at the captain for a long, drawn out moment, blinking to keep him in focus.

"I do not have a bedtime, captain," he says with a huff, unable to throw him the scathing look he would have liked to. "I am not a child. And I could ask you the same. It is late." Even the doctor has turned in for the night. "What are you doing hereーand why did you not just come in through the door if you wanted to see me?"

goldkiing

THERE’S SOMETHING ENTIRELY too soft about this one.

It’s unnerving to a degree, those smooth cheeks and wide, trusting eyes. Even if they’re a little wary — as they should be — staring at Kirk in the low light of the medical bay and innocently wondering.

Chekov is right that it’s late.

People are sleeping, warm and snug in their quarters, dreaming dreams about nice, cozy things that have nothing to do with terror. But like a specter, a monster under the bed, Kirk had slithered from the recesses of the dark. He’s all nuisance and shadows, touching every surface and turning them to rust.

Kirk is resting on one elbow, scraping at a fingertip with his teeth, one hand framing his face. A thoughtful thought emerges. Where he’s from, Chekov hated that exact thing: being underestimated, never a child. Kirk knows that better than most.

He’s got the scar to prove it.

“ Mm, you never did care for the whole kid kind of thing, did you? ” It’s a memory only Kirk can possess. But it doesn’t matter. When he springs, it’ll be with a bang — loud and clear — atomic, like he always he is.

“ —Bones, ” is all he says next. In all these lifetimes, he can take a wild guess that McCoy is predictable in his insistence to Kirk’s health. “ I’d rather no one knew I was here just yet. Except you. Can’t a captain check in on his navigator? ”

@ensnchekov

#ensnchekov #verse. collider.#imagine he stole jim's shirt

“And what miserable luck of mine brings you aboard my ship, Kirk? Certainly not bottled blindness to spare me your face.”

HE’S IN THE WALLS, THE FLOOR, THE ENTIRETY of every ship and vibrating molecule because that’s just how he fits. Kirk is too big for this place — for any place — with all ten fingers and toes sliding across every surface just to fill it because he can.

Kirk laughs and smiles and picks at his teeth with the point of a dagger. She’s so awful, boring, menacing in that way that makes Kirk want to peel off her eyelids and use them like fleshy coins — PAY THE FERRYMAN BURNHAM — it’s a one way ticket to eat shit and die.

He points his knife at her, “ I can help you with that, you know. The blindness thing. ”

He can help, he can dance, he can sing—

Kirk knows oh so many things.

“ You only get one wish with this genie, though. What’ll it be, Michael? ”

@mutiineer

#mutiineer #verse. collider.#:))))#q to the king.

“If he thought I was bad, I would be worse. If he thought I was cruel, I would be horrifying.”

— Holly Black, The Wicked King

#muse.#hNNNNN

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LONG LIVE THE KING