Hi! I'm sure everyone tells you this, but I absolutely love your writing. Seeing your new posts always brightens my day :)
It's a silly request, but could I ask for the elves reacting to a reader who's a Starfleet officer/from the Star Trek universe? TYSM and sorry if this isn't what you usually do
Thank you for your kind words, anon! It always brightens my day to hear that this blog brings people joy ♡
As for your request: People who’ve seen my main blog will know I’m a Trekkie, so I couldn’t let this classic fandom crossover slide haha! I’ve turned Reader into a Vulcan working as a Starfleet officer who ends up in Middle-Earth by accident (damned transporter interference…)
Enjoy the read and – of course – live long and prosper!
･ﾟ✧ Arwen.
Arwen is probably one of the best inhabitants of Middle-Earth to run into if you’re stranded in an unknown place. Whether you get beamed into Rivendell or to the riverbends of the Bruinen, the Elven lady is quick on her feet and recognises you as someone in need of help – especially when others speak of you with great suspicion. “Do not listen to their words. They have no meaning where my heart is concerned.”
Arwen is kind and curious, making it increasingly hard for you to follow the Prime Directive. She must not know about your starship, but of course it is senseless to try and hide your worries from her attentive gaze. Though she might not know of your dilemma exactly, she promises to help you find your way back home and always wants to make sure you’re comfortable in this strange world, being openly affectionate and sometimes even touchy with you – until she sensed that holding hands meant a bit more to you than an Elf… ♡
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･ﾟ✧ Elrond.
The Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, works almost as logically as a Vulcan, which impresses you. He is a master of knowledge and a lore expert with a vast collection of literature at his disposal. I like the idea that maybe the Prime Directive would not even concern him because he has heard of star-faring people but always considered them legends, until he met you.
Not only is Elrond an intelligent conversationalist – he is also the most considerate and kind host you could have wished for. He respects your drive for finding a solution to your problem but also endows you with comfortable quarters to retreat into, as well as a vegetarian menu to eat. To further help you clear your mind, he’d invite you to a session of harp playing. The music is soothing, not too different from your Vulcan lute – and yet entirely new – fascinating!
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･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.
The Lady of Light knows of your presence in Middle-Earth even before you yourself do. She immediately senses that something is off and delights when she finally gets to meet you. “How nice to have a face to the stranger on our earthly shores,” she’d whisper in your head. Her fascination with you is intense and maybe even scaring you a bit. However, logic suggests you have nothing to fear of her.
Galadriel’s resources and ancient knowledge, as well as the futility of upholding the Prime Directive, make the search for a way back to your ship easy. Before you go, however, Galadriel would ask you to join her telepathic palace – which you agree to. Her mind meld is more powerful than any you have ever performed before. It gives you a glimpse into her internal lights that are eons olds and yet young and beautiful. To remember it, Galadriel would give you a strand of her legendary hair as a parting gift ♡
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･ﾟ✧ Haldir.
Honestly? Haldir running into a Vulcan might be the funniest combination in this post – the stone faces would be off the charts! At first, the beautiful Elf and his ability to hide his emotions (minus his thinly veiled contempt) would fascinate you, as well as his matter-of-factly duty of keeping you out of Lothlórien. Maybe you’d point out, “It would seem we are both simply following our orders.” – “Indeed.”
However, you can be just as silent and stubborn as Haldir, so the two of you would probably spend an entire night just staring each other down, until he has had enough and finally escorts you to his Lady to make you her problem instead of yours. It is obvious to him that you do not belong here, so his sense of duty makes him care for you – which he would never admit to, of course!
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･ﾟ✧ Legolas.
Initially, Legolas would think of you as a fellow Elf lost in Mirkwood, which is good for the Prime Directive but bad for someone as untalented with lying as you. Eventually, you’ll informed him of your suspicion that the two of you belonged to entirely different species. He would ask you about your body then, as well as your workplace and perhaps your family. But after the friendly ‘getting to know you phase’, Legolas knows your weaknesses and will try to mess with you – in a playful and non-hostile but all-too Human way, testing your patience and logic alike.
That said, he will do what he can to help you get back to your world and ask many questions about it. “What is it like? To fare the stars as if they were islands in an ocean? What does the moon look like up close? Oh, there is no moon in your world? There hasn’t always been one here, either. Look that way… up, silly, not at me! You see it…?” ♡
By the way: The young Romulan warrior Elnor, a main character from Star Trek: Picard, has an Elvish name according to the showrunners. One meaning of “el” (as in the names of Elrond and Elros, for example) is star, and “nor” means run. In both Sindarin and Quenya, dear Elnor’s name roughly translates to “Star Trek”!
Being candid and brash, a skilled fighter and absolute sweetheart, I think he’d get along splendidly with dear Legolas, for example...
P.s., this also contains spoilers for thunderbolts* (duh), so see more at your own caution
So shortly after Steven starts his road trip in Future, Val offers him some work doing stuff that normal 16-17 year olds do not do, not the killing stuff, but enough diplomacy on her behalf to people who he wouldn’t know are shady af to put him on the “liability list” that most of the other Thunderbolts*New Avengers were in, and thus a few months after he starts doing these gigs, she tries to kill him along with everyone else.
Val also knows from research that he’s very powerful, so she decides to make him a secondary target for the rest of the people in the safe room so that she’d make sure he’s gone, HOWEVER, he knows Yelena from when he went to NY on his first stop of his road trip (cause all my AUs HAVE to have Steven be from Canada), so Yelena finds out a little quicker than canon that Val put them up to it, because there’s a 17 year old who 1) has no idea what is happening and 2) is a pacifist within this room full of assassins who he is on the hit list of for no apparent reason. The escape from the safe house is also faster cause Steven is there, and can float, so the elevator is less insufferable for the bunch, and the escape goes as canon, with Bob being taken by Val.
When the squad comes across Bucky, he is also confused as to why the 17 year old saviour of the galaxy is with a bunch of assassins, so that segment is easier in everyone because Bucky already met Steven in multiple situations (because Steven practically knows the whole hero community at this point, cause they need to know how to get along with gem kind). However, the Bob thing is still pretty confusing for Bucky until Mel calls and clarified things, since he believed Steven that Bob was super powered, but didn’t believe Yelena about the project Sentry thing because she could’ve been lying (assassin background)
Instead of just Yelena going into the Void first, Steven goes in at the same time as her, realizing at the same time as her that he needs someone like he needed his family during his meltdown. We don’t really need to run down what his void memories look like, because there are too many possible ones to explain here, but after those are over with he meets Bob and Yelena in his room, they talk for a bit, and then other canon compliant events happen with the addition of Steven.
Post fight, he, Bucky, and Bob try to stop the others from killing Val when they are caught up in the press conference that announced them as the New Avengers, they are all pissed (except for Bob, cause he still forgot about a sizeable amount of events), especially Steven who just wanted to have a normal road trip (but decided to stay anyways, since it could be a good change of pace and Val is paying him so his dad doesn’t have to spend his savings anymore).
Okay now here are some more things in jot notes:
Does stuff with Yelena, Bob, and Ava very often
Takes the team to different places in beach city sometimes to get acquainted with gems
Sees the gems very often and had to explain what happened to him and why he didn’t contact them for like a week and then was announced to be a part of a superhero team once they got back in contact (they hate Val as they should)
Greg is concerned though, because he thinks that Steven may be forced to be in the team by Val, but Steven ensures his dad that he actually likes the team at the moment and would quit if it became too much
Thinks they should choose a different name, as the literal Captain America is suing them for trademark and he doesn’t want to fight him on that
Val STILL tries to manipulate him (since he’s very trusting) and Bob, but the others got his back
Bucky is very much like the B99 meme with the dog with him, since Steven wasn’t actually doing much to get himself into the team and he feels guilty for bringing him along instead of telling him to go back to his home for the time being (like he would’ve gone home after knowing that his new friend was being manipulated by Val)
The only member of the team (in an official capacity) with a clean reputation, the saving grace of the PR team
Only a part-time member of the team since the others think that Steven should have the opportunity to live his life more (a lot of the time he hangs with Bob while the others are on a mission, also his family and friends a lot of the time, sometimes both at the same time)
Beach City LOVES Bob, just loves to see him coming, cause he’s just so chill and can do pretty much anything with anyone, as he’s exploring the world still (since he just got off of relying on drugs and being abused)
Steven is what is stopping the team from being considered a bunch of assassins working for the government by the internet, some people still say they are, but most of the internet just thinks they suck as a team for different reasons (most of them being Walker)
Speaking of Walker, Steven has to come to terms with what Walker did, how he feels about it, and why it happened to really try to understand him + actually tolerate him at the very least, the most friction in the team is actually between the two of them, mostly on Steven’s side
Alright, that’s it for now!
EDIT: Forgot to add that the blip doesn’t happen, something else I’m too lazy to think of happens that causes Iron Man, Nat, and Steve to get their canon results
SEND ME AN AU AND I’LL TELL YOU 5 OF MY HEADCANONS FOR IT
Regulus is not procrastinating. The problem is that his patristics tutor is a bastard, and writing three papers a week is going to send him around the twist, and the little bookshop at the edge of campus is a stone’s throw from his flat. It’s a cramped placed, soporific with stories, lulled by the hush of shuffling feet and whispered conversations. He’s trailing fingers along the theology section for the second time since Tuesday and spying on the new clerk when he’s found out.
Remus is a tutor. “Not a very good one,” he explains apologetically, as if Regulus were interviewing him for a better position and he thought self-deprecating comments would endear them to one another. Which, well. They kind of do.
Remus can’t afford the rent on his tutoring allowance alone (he does not tell Regulus this; Regulus scents it, like all monied people can, as if it’s a peculiar talent curated at Eton alone), which is why he works at the bookshop. He is midway through a mild criticism of freshers, absent-mindedly stirring his tea with a spoon, when Regulus catches himself staring at this dusty-haired Welshman in the middle of a Starbucks on a drizzling Wednesday morning, hand on chin, his black coffee long since grown cold. Remus catches his eye and smiles, murmuring, “They’re not all bad,” like Regulus is going to leap to their defense, and very distantly Regulus thinks, Oh dear.
Regulus hasn’t dated anyone since school. “We weren’t really dating,” he says as they’re walking along the river, hands in pockets against the brisk autumn wind, “we tossed each other together a few times. He gave me a Valentine’s card. I still have it somewhere.” He hadn’t kept it out of affection; it was more of a disassociated nostalgia. The term tossed each other off is a Sirius-ism. They’ve been creeping more into his vocabulary ever since they started speaking again. It turns out all you need to solve a broken childhood is distance, Skype, and one drunken phone call at two in the morning, with Sirius burbling something disjointedly about the old days (”They really fucked us up,” Sirius said cheerfully; they being their parents. Regulus had to agree, but really, it was two in the morning, so he wasn’t very sympathetic to Sirius’ long-overdue epiphany). Remus absorbs this in his characteristic quiet and nods once Regulus has lapsed into an awkward silence. Regulus finds a pebble on the cobblestones, concentrates, then throws it into the canal. “I’m not really...” Remus struggles for a moment. He lights a cigarette. Regulus breathes in the menthol, feeling the smoke push against his ribs. “I don’t see people very often either.” (This is a charitable view of Regulus’ love life). “I’m, ah. Comfortable with my own space, I suppose. Always have been.” They recognize each other anew.
Regulus tries to make Remus pasta; it is, surprisingly, not that bad, and Remus says as much. “You’ve not had anything since toast since yesterday,” Regulus points out, not unkindly, and Remus twirls his fork and makes a that’s fair expression. The candle Regulus had stuck in a wine bottle casts them both in a pleasant glow. In this light Remus’ angular features are accentuated, his unconventional looks fading into something approaching handsome. Remus catches Regulus staring. A wry smirk pricks the corner of his thin mouth, creasing the freckles on his cheek. Flustered, Regulus pours them another glass of red.
Regulus is uncomprehending, at first. He leans back from where he’s sat flush in Remus’ lap. They’re on his tiny sofa, all legs, with Remus’ hair mussed from Regulus’ enthusiastic hands, and Regulus’ neck blooming red under Remus’ attention. “I didn’t -- you can still get that?” In all honesty, Regulus had been operating under the assumption Remus had a nasty gluten allergy, but it seems insensitive to admit now. Mouth twisting, Remus’ hands tightened on Regulus’ thighs, and he looked away to stare at the painting hanging on the wall over Regulus’ shoulder. “It’s not... I can’t infect you.” Remus’ accent becomes more pronounced when he’s nervous. It’s low and melodic, shifting like a gentle tide. “Not if we don’t use... But not everyone who has HIV develops --” The word lingers between them. At last Remus meet Regulus’ eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but as you can imagine, this conversation is never an easy one.” Regulus is uncharacteristically lost for something to say. Then he realizes that the best answer is the simplest one. “Thank you,” he says, then to Remus’ flickering frown, “for telling me. I get that it’s really... It’s okay. Really. So long as we...” And Remus’ expression clears. “God, yes.” And then they’re kissing, and Regulus thinks it again, more strongly this time.
They don’t tell anyone, at least not intentionally. Regulus’ tutor recognizes Remus from the department, and upon seeing Remus waiting across the way one afternoon for Regulus to finish his class, gives Regulus an indulgent smile. Sirius puts it together in twenty seconds flat. “Oh!” he proclaims, shaking Remus’ hand, giving him the once over. Then, with a darting look so like their mother (although Regulus would rather drown himself than ever say that aloud), says with renewed understanding: “Oh.” Rabastan is less impressed. “So,” he says slowly, watching Remus get their pints at the bar, “he’s Welsh,” and Regulus chokes on a peanut. Remus’ friend Peter is a boxer from Bristol. “Not professional, mind,” he explains cheerfully, “but it keeps me busy. How long ‘ave you and Moony being seeing each other, then?” (Later, in bed, Regulus exclaims, “Did everyone know before me?” and Remus pretends to smother him).
Because Regulus cannot bear the alternative, he texts it to Remus. He locks his phone and stares determinedly out of the window. Oxford is swathed in velvet, pinpricked by pearls of light, silent save for the distant sounds of pub-goers and traffic. A warm breeze stirs Regulus’ curling fringe. The buzz of his phone sounds like a drill. Regulus unclenches his hands and opens the message, heart pounding. It doesn’t stop. His eyes wear the message thin. Because there, under REMUS L. is a single line: I do too.
(au) That time Sirius and Regulus got lost as children and never found their way home again
There were certain rooms in Grimmauld Place you just did not go into. Sirius, brazen at eight years old and foolhardy besides, retold their cousin Bellatrix’s tale to a nervous Regulus one lazy summer afternoon, before leaping off the bed and grinning through a tangle of black curls: “Let’s go, then!” Despite Regulus’ stutters -- What if Mother... No, Sirius, wait -- the pair tumbled down the stairs, along half a dozen winding corridors, and found themselves in a wing of the house utterly foreign to them. The house, which had been their birth place and cradle, creaked ominously around them. Regulus had the unsettling sensation the floorboards giving way beneath his feet, like the deck of a rotting ship.
“Sirius...” Regulus took hold of Sirius’ shoulder, who shrugged his brother off impatiently, eyes glued to the cramped door at the end of the corridor. There was a heavily ornate portrait hanging at eye level: an ancestor regarded them balefully, silver eyes flashing in the subterranean gloom. Regulus swallowed. “Sirius!” He was rewarded with a dispassionate glance. At six years of age Regulus recognized the distance in his brother’s expression. Sirius’ gaze glazed when their weekly tutor arrived; when their father lectured them; and when their mother dissected Sirius’ many faults. Sirius went somewhere far inside him, a place not even Regulus could reach. Not then, and not now.
“Sirius,” Regulus urged, his pulse doubling enough to make him swoon in fear. “Sirius, please, let’s go back!” But the doorknob fit easily inside Sirius’ small, bronze hand, and unlike the other doors in the house, it turned with nary a squeak. Regulus’ clammy palms shook. They waited for something to happen. Then the door swung silently inwards, leaving Sirius’ hand hovering in the clasp of a cool breeze that brought to mind the grey clay beaches they unhappily visited every summer. Regulus felt the touch of something damp against his fevered skin. “Sirius,” he whimpered, at the same time Sirius breathed, “C’mon, Reg.” He caught and held his brother’s gaze. Regulus realized, with a shock, that Sirius was now very present, and his fearsome Black features were sharpened into something that made Regulus step back, stumbling on his buckled shoes. Sirius noticed, and smiled. His profile, when he turned to look back into the yawning black doorway, brought to mind ancient wizards with terrible power, the sort of magic that made Regulus’ bones grow cold.
“Come on,” Sirius repeated. “Let’s go.” And he did.
