Okay so, I saw someone draw a Soul Eater AU of some characters from some fandom that I'm not in, so, Mcspirk Soul Eater AU.
(Disclaimer, I haven't seen Soul Eater since I was 11, I don't remember jack about the show. But I do remember that it was an absolute scene-kid Nirvana.)
I really tried to match the style of the show, I haven't tried to replicate somebody else's style in a minute so it was tough.
We are excited to share the first NSFW issue of We Go Together Zine!
Inside you will find artwork, poetry, fanfiction, edits, & more from our extremely talented creators. This digital issue features over 200 pages of brand new Spones content for all to enjoy and download.
18+ Readers can get it for free here on itch.io.
Enormous thanks to our creators and the Zine Committee who helped make this whole project possible.
Creators, please wait until the 1 week grace period finishes (for this volume that is July 3rd) before posting your works elsewhere.
One more quick thing that I just whipped up for @sponeszine's Spones day.
A baby.
This is Sem'rik.
Various thoughts in no particular order:
·From my rarely shared TOS AU where Spones are married in the first year of the 5-year mission, and pregnant in the 5th.
·The pregnancy is accidental. With the consistency of sterility in hybrid species, they were caught completely by surprise when Spock woke up with certainty that he was pregnant.
·His curly hair is from Spock, who straightens his. It turns wavy as he gets older.
·McCoy never lets him out of his sight. Spock and him quarrel over the impact of how often he holds the baby.
·His ears stay huge. He might be mostly human but it doesn't make him look any less Vulcan.
In celebration of Spones day I remembered that I never posted the written submission for the @sponeszine after the waiting period was over! I'll have more to post today for Spones day! Something I that I actually made for the day 😂
For now, the unedited version of my zine entry:
A03 Link
“Now, what's this, Spock? Cookin’, or biological warfare?” McCoy eyed Spock's potluck contribution; a mixture of colorful unfamiliar baked vegetables, piping in the bath of sauce and spices, all served in complement with a steamed Vulcan grain that he recognized but didn't remember the name of. But, the spice from the stuff was practically overpowering without him even eating it. It made his eyes water like getting too close to the smoke from a fire.
In all honesty, it seemed exciting. McCoy wasn't a loather of spice. He liked spicy chili, hot pot, jerk chicken, spiced rum; all kinds of tasty things that’d make his mouth burn. It wasn't that he disliked the idea of trying the dish at all; it was that he wanted Spock to tell him about it, and with Spock, an insult always worked better than a request.
“If I was attempting biological warfare, Doctor, I would have not chosen such an obvious method as poisoning you via food.” Spock paused to consider McCoy’s initial jab. “I am lucky to have found Vulcan ingredients in such abundance in the market. All of the vegetables and spices are Vulcan in origin, and the grain is myropses, which has been grown on Vulcan since the early days of space travel, when it was first imported.” he knew McCoy’s game at this point, it seemed, and he looked like he was taking an un-Vulcan-like pride in his recreation of the dish. “I ruminated on what to prepare for quite a long time yesterday evening.”
McCoy leaned in a bit to really admire his work while he listened. It did look absolutely mouthwatering.
“You are unaware of this; Vulcan cuisine exists on what you would call two ends of a spectrum; unflavored meals focused on texture and, in contrast, meals that take full advantage of the spices available on Vulcan.” the corners of his mouth quirked up—subtly, but certainly fiendishly. “I only used a small fraction of the traditional spices for this dish. Perhaps I should have made a tasteless dish, in order to suit your palette more appropriately,” he insulted.
McCoy resisted a simple; bite me. “Maybe I should’a made some spicy harissa aubergine pie. Had you put those Vulcan taste buds to the test,” he genuinely considered. “Lucky for your Vulcan ego, I just made some sweet peach pies.”
“Then, perhaps I'll show you the fault in your thinking that any Human spice would adequately phase my palate on another day, doctor.”
“You’d-”
He was promptly cut off by Jim awkwardly ringing the little dinner-bell he'd replicated. The entire potluck crowd straightened up and looked to the captain.
It was truly a wonderful sight laid out on the several large tables in front of them. The Enterprise cultural exchange potluck was many a crewmember's favorite time of year, including McCoy’s. There were so many tantalizing looking breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and desserts scattered across the table, and even more odd looking ones. Jim had been wise enough this year to separate the dishes by smell, after the absolute fiasco of smells from the last year's contributions. It certainly made where he was standing all the more dangerous for his sinuses. But, no one would be skipping over his pie sitting on the opposite table because of the magma incarnate Spock had brought along.
“Everyone, welcome, to the annual Enterprise potluck. Today we celebrate, where we came from, the people, we surround ourselves with and choose to care for now, and, the way that our strength is in what each, individual, one of us, brings to the table—because our differences are the exact thing that make, wonderful times like this, possible. I,, remember all those complaints last year about the length of my speech, and all I have to say, is, shame on you all for not enjoying the only thing I can bring to this table. You, don't, want my cooking here,” he got a light chuckle from the crowd, “and, dig in.” He stepped down from his spot at the head of the intersection of tables as everyone rushed for their plates.
McCoy really did try to seem like he wasn't in a hurry to taste test Spock's special Vulcan dish that he'd so considerately made palatable for human consumption, but it was the third thing that he'd put on his first plate, and Spock definitely took notice, looking at him from across the table. And McCoy took note of that look, and the peach pie slice on Spock's dessert plate. That eased him. He'd actually been fairly concerned that Spock wouldn't like what he brought to the table this year; Vulcans weren't exactly known for being avid lovers of dessert. And the two years before, he hadn't gotten to participate.
As he made his way to Jim's side at one of the sitting tables, he found himself troubled with the idea of Spock eating his pie. He knew he'd put a lot of effort into making it just right, and he knew that it was probably one of the best damn things at the entire potluck. But it was also the first time Spock was going to try his cooking. What are you sweating for, McCoy? It doesn't matter what Spock thinks. Get it together. He couldn't fathom why Spock's judgment on the matter seemed to get him so anxious.
Spock sat on the other side of Jim. McCoy eyed up his plates. Despite the many other wonderfully colorful dishes Spock had decided to sample, he couldn't help but lock his eyes on his own slice of pie on that dessert plate. He briefly considered causing a scene; doing something, anything, to get rid of that slice on Spock's plate. He won the battle with himself and forced himself to calm down, of course, but the whole thing just made him feel silly.
He took a deep breath, double checked to make sure he had his little shot glass of milk, and took a bite of Spock's cooking.
It was incredible.
The vegetables were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. The perfect texture, easy to chew and easy to savor. As his teeth bit through them, the juice went straight to his taste buds, sweet and sour. But the method of cooking added something else; a kind of char, almost like it had been grilled; or, maybe that was one of the spices. That's when the first wave of spice hit. Whatever it was, it was intense, prickling at his tongue and down his throat, then right up into the sinuses. It was a good burn, like the first time he tried Thai food. The spice playing in harmony with all those flavors, pairing so perfectly with the plain, grounding taste of the grain, and just begging to be chased with a nice smooth drink. Then the second wave hit, and he sniffled a little as his nose started running. He held a napkin over his nose and mouth and let it run for a second, not wanting to give away that the third wave, the aftertaste, was making his eyes burn. He shut them.
There was no doubt. Spock was a damn good cook.
He subtly wiped his nose and took half his shot of milk, wishing that he had gotten a full glass and didn't have to save the other half for what was left of it… and also wishing that he had a bigger stomach, to go back and get more without sacrificing the capacity to try all the rest of the food he’d piled on his plates. He cleared his throat, the remnants of the spices tickling where the milk hadn't entirely soothed.
Then, he subtly looked over to Spock.
Spock was sitting there, looking as though he hadn't even started eating, like something was on his mind; not something troubling him, more so that he was ruminating on something he found important. He knew the man, after all—he knew what the look on his face was. The Vulcan was definitely thinking about something very important to him. So important that he hadn't touched anything on his plates—Leonard did a double take.
Spock had touched one thing on one of his plates. McCoy's slice of pie, which was completely gone. Briefly, he was flattered, before realizing all of the different things that that could mean.
Maybe Spock hated it. Maybe it’d put him off eating all together. Or maybe he hadn't checked the little ingredient card in front of it closely enough, and it had something he couldn't eat, and now he was considering the validity of calling the whole thing off for himself and going back up to the ship to pretend that he wasn't having a reaction to it. Or, maybe he was trying to think of the best possible insult to grant him after the meal. Well, two can play at that, Spock! Yours is—well, it was perfect. It was just great; he couldn't think of a bad thing to say that wasn't just insulting himself for not having a Vulcan tolerance.
Maybe Spock was thinking the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing.
Maybe Spock was thinking that he wished he'd tried his cooking sooner. Maybe, just like McCoy was, he was wishing that they’d just cooked for each other so they didn't have to worry about leaving out all the other wonderful things there were to eat on their plates.
No, not Spock. The man doesn't even eat breakfast. He only ever eats what he needs to survive unless it's in the name of being diplomatic. It seemed inconceivable that the Vulcan could be thinking of something so worldly as having another bite of something delicious.
“Since when are you a slow eater, Bones?” Jim remarked, nudging his shoulder knowingly.
“It's called pacing yourself, Jim. Good for big meals like this. ‘N I'll recommend it to you if you don't slow down.” he gestured to Jim's half finished plate. “You even chewing? You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache.”
Jim huffed with a bit of amusement, both of them knowing that McCoy was just crabby about being caught staring at Spock and wondering what he thought of his food.
Leonard took a bite of something else on the plate to avoid more ridicule, listening as Jim turned to Spock and said, “not hungry, Spock?”
Whatever game he was playing.
Sure, everything at the potluck that McCoy had put on his plate tasted incredible. There wasn't a single thing he regretted, even the things that squirmed under his fork—a bit like octopus with soy sauce, he considered, and he knew better than to be put off—but nothing stuck in his head quite like Spock's silly little spicy vegetable dish. He was embarrassed, finding his thoughts drifting over and over again to a hypothetical situation of him walking up to Spock and asking about the recipe.
On one hand, it felt a whole lot like praising the enemy. The little game that they played that neither of them were supposed to really win didn't work that way. Sure, the occasional compliment on the other's competency slipped out on occasion. But asking the man to make him dinner was a whole ‘nother thing. It was so… domestic. And the thought of sitting down in one of their quarters over a Vulcan meal that Spock had put so much time and effort into preparing seemed a bit too much like him asking Spock on a date for his comfort. Although, it didn't sound like a bad date. It sounded like a very good date. In fact, it sounded like the best possible date with Spock he could think of in that moment.
In that train of thought, he considered that it might even be a bit of a show of strength on his part; a brag that he was able to handle it. One of his ways of teasing him that was more of a compliment, despite its disguise as a boast.
He thought back and forth on it until just about everyone at their table had finished everything on their plates. Not that he noticed until Spock intruded behind him.
“Doctor.”
He looked back over his shoulder at Spock, playing with the last thing on his plate with his fork. “Spock,” he acknowledged.
“We will be in orbit of this planet for 57 more of your Earth hours. I intend to acknowledge your challenge. You will inform me of what time would work best for you. Then, we will meet and you will prepare a dish for me that you believe would adequately test my Vulcan taste buds.”
He was stunned for a moment, of course. Spock had beat him to it. He practically did everything but schedule the date. But McCoy was too quick a thinker to sit there with his mouth hanging open about it. “All right, Spock. Only if you take me to the market and show off your fancy Vulcan veggies and spices.” He wouldn't let Spock be in charge of the whole situation without a fight.
“Acceptable,” Spock immediately acknowledged, almost as if he would accept any condition.
“And, one more thing.” McCoy pushed his luck.
“Yes?” Spock shifted uncomfortably, as if he was worried- if McCoy didn't know better than to think such a thing about a distinguished Vulcan like Spock.
“You're gonna make this for me again the night after we leave orbit.”
I would love to learn about your "Cabin" WIP or "Those Blue Eyes".
Those Blue Eyes
(Since I just did Cabin)
This is a painting practice!
My mirror-McCoy has a fake left eye (as many do), and he hates his own perceived uncanny valley of normal fake eyes, so he has a solid blue left eye. This started as me just wanting to draw him but I decided it would do best as a practice.
One bust in dramatic lighting really showing off the eye color, because I really want to see if I can push the blue without making it ridiculous.
And a half body in more typical lighting, but with more dynamic posing and experimental brushstrokes.
ohh what's the Cabin about?? sounds kinda ominous but could be sweet xD
Cabin
Okay so, that one has a bit of a funny story!
I have a hard time committing to events because I work pretty slow so when 12 Days of Spones 2023 came around I decided that I would split it into two things: a few individual art pieces to fulfill the prompts, and a fic that covered the other half of the prompts. But then, guess who got busy and never finished it?
But I still liked the concept.
Married Spones (in an AU I have where they're married during the five year mission) get snowed into a cabin when separated from the group on an snow planet away mission, in a pre-warp society.
Once they get settled in it's all fluff! And their usual fun married-couple arguing.
My plan is to post it during the next season of 12DoS. And then I'll work on the prompts for 12DoS 2024 for the next season and so on and so on.
I was tagged by @tigereyes45, who I hope has gotten plenty of asks about all those wonderful WIPs.
Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (I'm breaking that last rule)
Writing:
[When You Know Somebody]_[Azami]_Final
Working Title: Locusts
Cabin
No Control
A Food Related Hypothetical
Art:
Sunburn
Leior
RoleSwap Main Three
Old Married Naegami
Those Blue Eyes
Various Hinek
Bones Sheet 5
Not The One I Love
I'll tag @strangenewwords, @m0rbs, & @starrycrowsx. Just like tiger said, y'all don't have to play if you don't want too. (But even with my lack of activity in the discord server, I like knowing what people are up to 😆)
@tigereyes45 a wonderfully encouraging and constructive presence in the fandom. Very happy to be tagged by her for this! (And very sorry for not getting to it sooner 😂)
This excerpt is from a TOS Joanna-centered story I'm writing to polish my skills. I need that woman explored in more stories!
“No, no. That doesn’t track..” Jo looked over the dataset on her padd. “Either a few too many staff are fibbin’ about their rates or we've got a serious problem.”
Trisha considered McCoy's meaning. “A problem like; the vaccine works on the general population but not their settlers?”
Jo nodded, pouting. The issue could be anything; a chemical in their food, a microbe in their water, a neutralizer in their atmosphere- it could even be a second virus. “What a damned mess.”
Tigereyes tagged so many lovely writers! I like passing these things on one at a time, so I'll tag @starrycrowsz! Hype to see what you're working on!
Final entry in @mcspirkevents Mcspirk month (for now). Here's my piece for SFW; 3-26; Western AU.
A03 collection and context below:
Not so much an AU as opposed to them getting dressed up like it's the cowboy version of a Renfair. I'd love to round out Spock's ears and do something actually AU with this though.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.
I'm participating in @mcspirkevents Mcspirk month by posting once a week. Here's a preview of my piece for NSFT (using T instead of W for Tumblr censorship purposes); 3-22; Mirrorverse.
Find the full image below:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
2087
dededos
