R ‘ R A N ‘ E T H @mutiineer - Tumblr Blog

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

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

#( mirror. )#( mirror v. )#( mirror jim. )#( the worst kirk. )#lmfaooooo

A SUN MELTED DOWN INTO THE distant horizon of this planet thrown to the edge of the galaxy, so close in fact the galactic barrier could be seen as a faint rim in the night sky – all beauty and wonder that was fatally lost on Michael. She wasn’t here to drink in the wonders of what the universe had to hold, she was coming to the end of an arduously long and tedious search, perilous at points, impossible at others. But it was built around an idea, an even more feckless - a hope, a dirty thing that those who ever hoped to survive the empire never afforded to themselves. Things could only be built on action in the moment, actions that were done with the most severity. And certainty. However. The Eater. It clawed through the galaxy right now as she lay here, back on grass cooled by a balmy night on what was a surprisingly temperate planet. With that said – eleven days was beginning to feel like a fool’s errand or even more to the point like some cosmic joke. Michael’s finger’s tangled and pulled at the grass where she lay, fist clenching and unclenching in rhythm with the muscles of her stomach. She lay there in wrestling with some kind of surge of feeling that she desperately tried to swallow, but only half successful was she as a hapless kind of laugh bubbled out of the back of her throat, erupting in a sound akin to a dry bark. “Eleven days you whisper riddles, I solve them. Eleven nights you crawl into my grey matter, and every morning I wake up angry, confused, if even a little aroused – “ Michael took in hair like one emerging from a deep dive. “ – AND FOR WHAT?” Fists slammed against the ground, her eyes wild and alive, the whites bright and glowing like one large moon that hung high overhead. “ – and for what, Witch? My brother’s soul still vaults, twisted and hoarded in a creature consuming half the galaxy and you run bare chested like that’s a novel act you’ve invented?” Steadying her breathing again, she lay back still against the ground again, hand resuming plucking blades of grass, her forearm draped across her forehead. “No, Witch, I think the only thing that’s invented here is the hope you’re real and this was anything other than a child’s story carrying the belief of too many grown.”

@scrapratsoldier / ( for Merrin )

#( mirror v. )#( mirror. )#( scrapratsoldier )#( / merrin )#she's just out here on this planet #being accosted by horny puzzle dreams

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

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

#( collider v. )#( mirror v. )#( mirror. )#( mirror jim. )#( the worst kirk. )#( goldkiing )

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

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

#( collider v. )#( mirror jim. )#( the worst kirk. )#( goldkiing )#( mirror v. )#lmfaooooooooooooooooo

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

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.

#( mirror jim. )#( mirror v. )#( collider v. )#( the worst kirk. )#( goldkiing )#the universe’s most tedious riddler

goldkiing

“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

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

#( mirror v. )#( collider v. )#( the worst kirk. )#( mirror jim. )#( mirror. )#( goldkiing )#THIS BITCH IS SO TIRED #and he knows it

lasaraconor

#( aes. )

Vitriol bubbled up in her chest, causing the air from her slow exhale to run hot. For all the galaxy's large misconception on the matter of Vulcan emotions and a belief to a lack thereof — it showed how most had truly never shared space with a Vulcan. Least of all her brother — a man completely unique and unto himself in the whole, wide galaxy. Regarded for a great many things, something Michael had come to recognize in these short weeks aboard the Enterprise was how little anyone regarded how her brother was also the highest ranked asshole in the entire Fleet; operating on emotions that ran higher than most infants. Of any species. "It. Will. Work. You need only give me the opportunity to execute my plan. I have encountered this species once before — why assign me here for the purposes of my unique familiarity in xenozoology if you refuse to utilize that knowledge — Commander."

@fasciinating

#( commander spock. )#( specialist burnham. )#( brother of mine. )#( fasciinating )#( main v. )#we fucking squaring up little brother #AGAIN

"I call this turf ‘n’ turf. It’s a sixteen ounce T-bone and a twenty-four ounce porterhouse. Also, whiskey and a cigar. I am going to consume all of this at the same time because I am a free citizen of the Federation.”

@tangleweave (for bill!)

#( tangleweave. )#( beta ray bill. )#sorry this is just a random one liner!#but you're also not getting left out #I don't make the rules

“I have a hernia. I’ve had it for a while, and I’ve been ignoring it successfully. But uh, this morning, I made the mistake of sneezing. But as long as I sit still and don’t move my head or torso, I’m good. I got this.”

@hiippocrates

#( hiippocrates )#( doctor mccoy. )#i mean come on #WHO ELSE WOULD SHE TELL THIS TO?#it's more the issue she's only saying something now #I said what I said

mutiineer

"I have no idea what I'm doing, but I know I'm doing it well."

@galaeus

galaeus

"They do say confidence is key. And, for the record and solidarity, I have no idea what you're doing, either."

mutiineer

Michael fixed a look on Echo, “I want you to know that as soon as our eyes locked on this prison planet - that there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to escape with, except maybe that Orion, but they took her goddamn head and now here we are. But hey — two humans have done far wilder shit then escape the Breen, right?”

@galaeus

#( galaeus )#( echo. )#i don’t know what i’m doing #I AM JUST OUT HERE SAYING SHIT #BUT AN ADVENTURE WE ARE ON!

mutiineer

“Never half-ass two things. Whole-ass one thing.”

@endeavvor

endeavvor

"It's called multi-tasking, and I happen to be very efficient at it."

mutiineer

“Weird how you say that and yet you’re about to scratch on this eight-ball. But don’t let me get in the way of this multitasked greatness.”

@endeavvor

#( endeavvor )#( jim kirk. )#WHOLE ASS ONE THING JIM #YOU BOUTTA GET SMOKED

mutiineer

“Come on. Time is money, money is power, power is pizza, pizza is knowledge. Let's go.”

@doctorbrown

doctorbrown

Emmett struggles to follow the train of logic as it derails before his eyes, leaving him staring at Michael as she waits expectantly for either a reply or a confirmation. There must be something he's missing here—either that, or she's picking up phrases from a man who would do well to learn them himself and as such, is subject to the same unfortunate shortcomings in that regard.

❝I don't see how all of these things are related.❞ He has more than a sneaking suspicion they aren't. ❝Unless this is all some convoluted way of telling me you want pizza.❞

mutiineer

Michael stands in the doorway, not sure why the struggle for pizza has turned into a Herculean task.

But he’s not wrong.

“It is about pizza.” And the several beers that led her to pizza. “You know who really hates pizza?”

A long, disheveled, snort of laughter leaks from her face, before she can even get her reveal out—

“My idiot brother. He can be Captain Pike’s first officer, but throw some finger food at my boy and just watch all the perfected Vulcan posturing circle down the drain of his—“ she looked a little green, “his— ope. Hang on.”

She looked for a moment like she was about to wretch and then just as equally horrific, instead she swallowed.

“We’re good. Anyway. He’s a bitch who can’t hack pizza.”

Which made pizza her food dejour.