#rubi writes

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Writing game: post the last line that you wrote and tag someone for every word in the line.

Got tagged by @bnuuywol

"Need. What?" Byron punctuated, growling.

Yeah, go on, use your fucking imagination on this one

Tagging:

@wingedasarath , @fatewalker-phoenix , @avalon821 , @sasslett and @ainyan

[tposhi]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Have a PWP (i.e. smut, 18+) epilogue to Madness Underneath My Skin. Four years later. It took me that long to decide what T'pol's anatomy would be (I did not end up deciding.)

There's another failed attempt at doing a smutty epilogue that's been sitting in my drafts since 2020, but it was literally in a document titled "why is Phlox like this" and didn't GO anywhere.

[wlwmothman]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Additional Tags: lance and keith get tender, That's it Series: Part 1 of you take my breath away Summary:

He isn't quite sure how to react as he stares across the grounds, as he stares at Keith.

He feels winded as he watches him walk away from his lion, towards him, expression set into one of determination.

"Lance," Keith says, loud enough for him to hear from where he's walking. Lance stays in place, watching the way that Keith's eyes catch the light. He watches the way that his hair gathers on his shoulders and his bangs hide the upper part of his face.

discord exchange piece for @biadora 

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Discord Prompts: Parents

Word Count: Less than 500

Rating: G

Characters: Rosalyn Kincaid (OC), Kouh Rhikta (OC), Y'tohmar Tia (OC)

Ship: OC×OC×OC

Summary: Rosalyn's partners can be such cats sometimes.....

As she lounged on the couch, Rosalyn looked up from her book to find Kouh stoically looming over her. She smiled and brushed her partner's bangs aside and gave her a quick scratch behind her ear before resuming her reading. She neglected to register Kouh continuing to stare at her for a moment longer, then circle around to the front of the couch, as she got lost deeper in the story.

Kouh suddenly wedged herself under her arm holding the book, catching Rosalyn by surprise. "Pay attention to me." She said plainly, looking right at her. Rosalyn blinked.

"Alright." She scratched Kouh behind her ears again. Kouh gave her a light kiss on her lips and nuzzled her right under her chin with a pleased chirp. She settled on Rosalyn's chest. Rosalyn continued to scratch behind her ears as she resumed reading once more, only taking her hand off her to turn the page.

Moments later, Rosalyn felt Kouh's hand knead her breast. She looked down and audibly cleared her throat.

"What? I like them." Kouh replied softly. Rosalyn could hear the smile in her voice. She chuckled.

"I know you do, kitten."

"They're soft."

Eventually, Rosalyn stopped feeling her partners hand and started hearing soft purr-snoring. She smiled to herself and got herself lost in her story.

Until another voice suddenly brought her back to reality.

"Hey, Roz." Y'tohmar was leaning against the back of the couch, lazily smirking at her, his head propped up with one of his arms.

Rosalyn looked at Y'tohmar, wide-eyed with concern...for herself. "Tohmar, don't you dare--"

Y'tohmar vaulted over the back of the couch, landing right on top of his partners. Rosalyn quickly moved her book out of the way as he fell. He wrapped an arm around Kouh as he snuggled up to Rosalyn and closed his eyes.

"Seriously?" She groaned. "This couch is too small to fit all three of us!" Y'tohmar chuckled. She sighed, defeated, and put her book on the end table behind her head. She got comfortable among the tangle of limbs and closed her eyes herself.

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Discord Prompts: Beach

Word Count: 155 Rating: T (Alcohol mention)

Just another day at the beach. Certainly a peaceful day to be enjoying the weather without a care in the world. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the waves were lapping upon the sandy shore, and not a cloud could be seen in the sky--

"One Hurricane coming right up, ma'am!"

"Your Death in the Afternoon, sir!"

"I have a tequila sunrise for--Hey! No roughhousing on the deck!"

The two wrestling youths immediately looked up at the red-haired Miqo'te man setting down a drink and glaring at them from behind the bar, and disengaged from each other. His gaze continued to follow them as they walked off, embarrassed, until they turned the corner and disappeared behind another booth.

He sighed, exasperated, and turned to another customer with an apologetic smile, readying his pen and paper once more.

"Sorry about that. Now, what else would you like?"

Yep. Just another day at Costa de Sol for bartender Y'kouha Tia.

[tposhi]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

She wasn’t used to any of this, but here she was, chief of security on a state-of-the-art starship, trading clumsy attempts at flirting with a beautiful empath who was far too charming for the good of anyone involved. People were counting on her – but people also had her back. People also liked having her around. Deanna liked having her around. Things were looking up, in a way she never could have imagined a few short years earlier.

This might be home one day, she thought to herself as the recording clicked off.

A retelling of sorts of Skin of Evil from a Troisha perspective. Some Yesterday's Enterprise timeline, and some setup for a novel I'm working on (subscribe to the series for the rest of it!).

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💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

U'reksh looked among Alisaie, Urianger, and Y'dehlya as they chattered, though it was more Alisaie fending off their elders' teasings. The couple had started exchanging competitive threats with each other that looked uncannily like flirting in the middle of their group's conversation, moving closer and closer to the point they were literally butting heads against each other, until Urianger, of all people, essentially told them to "just shut up and kiss already" in his own unique Urianger way, stunning the other three.

U'reksh's eyes fell back on Alisaie, still half-turned towards the other two, and a small smirk crossed his lips. He put his hands in his pockets and swiftly gave her a peck on the lips, making her let out a muffled sound of surprise and left her cheeks dusted a noticeable shade of pink. Her eyes went wide from the shock of his boldness as she whirled on him fully. "W-What was that for?"

"You left yourself open to attack." He replied matter-of-factually, the smirk growing wider on his face. Y'dehlya snickered and nudged Urianger with her elbow. He gave her a amused look.

Alisaie growled, grit her teeth and balled her hands into fists, and she looked up at U'reksh with a fire in her eyes. "I'll show you 'open to attack'!" She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him back fiercely. It was U'reksh's turn to be taken by surprise. Whatever sound he made was muffled by her lips against his.

She shoved him away, still holding him by the collar. "How do you like that?" She gasped, now wearing a wicked grin; the kind she sported whenever she had him on the backfoot in their spars.

"You...You're lucky...we won't be seeing each other...for a while..." He panted, though he, too was smiling.

Y'dehlya chuckled, shaking her head. "It's not a competition, you two."

"Nay, not for most." Urianger told her. "But for these two, they're inclined to transform any activity into such. By now, you ought to know this fact well enough."

(Prompt!)

[tposhi]

rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. then tag ten people.

I wasn’t tagged and I don’t tag people but if anyone does this because of me please @ me in it! I wanna see what you have to share ✨

All of these are WIPs to varying degrees. Also very few of my WIPs have names 😅 I'm posting this in the hope that it encourages me to work on more than just the ultralong ones.

Twilight (the Enterprise episode) (Hoshi/T’pol)

T'pol's reflection in the mirror above the dresser is unfamiliar - her hair is long, and while she slept hairs have come loose and frizzy from the braid down her back. The defined edges of her face and body have softened ever so slightly, though she doesn't feel weak. Her eyes look wider, maybe a little unfocused - or a little crazed.

She's aged – not much, but a noticeable amount. Last night, she was sixty-four years old, first officer of the Enterprise. She was on her way to engineering, taking short, measured steps on unsteady feet, deep breaths, vertigo making the walls close in. The floor lurched – a spatial anomaly or her own perception? – she fell, and— and— nothing.

She steps closer to the mirror, trying to make sense of the gap between her image of herself and the woman in the mirror, and notices a note on the dresser. The paper is beginning to yellow with age, but the formal Vulcan handwriting is undeniably hers.

T'pol, daughter of T'les, know that I am you, though you have forgotten me.

Emergent Properties (Hoshi/T’pol, Vox Sola)

Hoshi knew her vices all too well, and she never considered pride to be one of them.

She took pride in her work, yes, because she was hardworking and focused and believed nothing was worth doing that wasn’t worth doing right. But she was also (consciously, willfully) friendly, and helpful, and humble. She didn’t like being wrong, but she was happy to accept it as something she could learn from. She knew what she didn’t know.

And yet none of that seemed to matter.

The Vulcan Word for Love (Hoshi/T’pol)

“How do you say I love you in Vulcan?”

T’pol’s mouth is dry, and she freezes, unable to do anything but stare, feeling like an ambushed gormagander. She is not prepared for that question. But it is not the Vulcan way to lie, and so she tells the truth as she knows it:

“We don’t.”

She feels Hoshi sag in her arms. There’s a part of her that wants to draw Hoshi in closely, to say T’pol can try to be human for her. There’s a part of her that can feel, intensely, how those words hurt, not for the explicit meaning itself, but for everything implied by it. And what those words imply is equally clear, echoed across the bond they share, etching itself into T’pol’s mind like acid.

Vulcans do not love to begin with.

It is extremely fortunate that Vulcans require little sleep, because even as she tries to meditate in Hoshi’s arms, she finds herself drawn back to that thought. It haunts her with the fiery intensity of all Vulcan emotions, until morning.

These Are the Voyages (gen, Voy/Ent crossover)

“It’s not educational, it’s an adventure that just happens to be based in historical fact.” Harry paused to smile knowingly. “And besides, I think you’ll find you like history a lot better when you’re a part of it.”

Tom raised his eyebrows and went back to eating.

B’elanna slid in between them and, without asking, picked up the padd and started reading it. “These Are The Voyages: A Holographic Window Into History.” Harry tried to grab the padd out of her hand, but she held it up in the air away from him and continued reading the description with a dramatic flourish. “Relive the thrill of battle, the intrigue of diplomacy, and the awe of exploration. Join the crew of the NX-01 Enterprise, Starfleet’s first warp 5 vessel,” she let out a small snort, “on humanity’s first steps into deep space.”

Time After Time (Paris/Kim)

It was a formulaic sort of conversation, a lecture Harry could have heard from his own father. Start with flattery – “You’re such a promising young officer,” – then veiled threats – “I’d hate to see you ruin your career,” – then actually get to the heart of the matter – “but that Tom Paris is bad news.”

Figures. Harry never had good taste in men. Luckily his common sense was usually stronger than his heart. His mother raised him right, he might say. It still smarts every time.

Harry was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice when the very object of his frankly juvenile brooding slid into the seat across from him, sloshing a bowl of slightly pink tomato soup as he set it down.

“There, you see? I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

Tom was bitter, even more bitter than the Starfleet replicators’ impression of tomato flavor. Apparently Tom never had a replicated tomato before, because, while Harry gripped the edge of the table at a loss for words, Tom took a sip and grimaced.

“Fourteen varieties, and they can’t even get plain tomato soup right.”

Harry might have told him there’s a reason for the fourteen varieties, that next time he should try the Bolian style, but Tom’s spoon clinked as he dropped it into the bowl, and Harry hated these conversations.

A Secondhand Truth (Paris/Kim)

“He misses you, you know.”

Harry was stunned, had been completely thrown off from his mental calculations of nebular dust decay. “Who?”

“Tom.”

“Oh. What do you mean?”

“He tells me you just canceled Captain Proton on him again, and now I see you here, hard at work on a problem that even I agreed is completely irrelevant. You didn’t have a fight, you’re just avoiding him.”

“He’s better off without me.”

“I beg to differ, he was much less insufferable when you still talked to him.”

Harry hadn’t seen that smile of Tom’s in a long time, the one he’d thought could burn out stars. He’d just imagined he saved it for B’elanna behind closed doors.

Fission (B’Elanna/Seven)

Janeway insisted, in her narrow scope, that human collectives and connections were no different. Humans were interdependent, she said; just look at the crew of Voyager.

Short-sightedness was an obvious result of living a single life, isolated from contradictory viewpoints.

Seven of Nine knew this much: the crew of Voyager was cacophonous. There was dissent. Members identified with two factions that warred with each other and only cooperated due to necessity. The captain had to command her crew and compel them to serve the needs of the whole, and punish those who didn’t, Seven of Nine included. It was intolerable. To be Borg was to know harmony.

Shuttlecraft 13 (Troi/Yar)

But she pitied Armus, as well. It was a heartless blob of hatred and anguish – negative emotions, but not pointless ones. They ought to be red flags the mind raises to alert itself to danger, that calm down when the situation passes. But there was no danger. Armus was trapped in a dark tunnel without an exit in sight. She wondered if anyone had ever tried to take it seriously. If she was going to die here, maybe she could talk it down.

“You want to play that game? That wasn’t meaningless at all. I know what you really want. Misery always wants to be shared. If you make someone else suffer, you think it’ll be worth something. It might at least mean you’re right. Well, that’s not how it works. It won’t ever make you feel any better. But if you let Will go, I’ll cry with you.”

Between Unforgiving Stars (Troi/Yar, someday)

“How deep does the rabbit hole go?”

T’ven frowned. “How is a small mammal relevant?”

“It’s an allusion to an old Earth story – Alice in Wonderland, in which a young girl falls into a rabbit’s burrow and discovers a world where everyone and everything is illogical. I was referring to its use in an old Earth movie, which asks ‘how deep the rabbit hole goes’ to refer to discovering concealed layers of confusing or incomprehensible truth.”

T’ven nodded, but she was obviously baffled.

“Perhaps a better way to say it would be, how many layers of deception are there?”

“Only the Tal Shiar can be said to know, though I doubt their left hand knows what the right hand is doing, to use one of your Earth expressions.”

Deanna smiled graciously. “You’ve studied human mythology.”

Waiting Game (Troi/Yar)

“Deanna,” Will said, and she could hear the unspoken, don’t. But he knew that if she’d visited his quarters, if she was so serious when she was so plainly uncomfortable, it must be important enough that she needed to say it for herself, no matter what.

“I don’t want you to think,” Deanna began, then swallowed, realized the way she was going to end that sentence – that I still have feelings for you – wasn’t fair, because her own feelings were out of her control, and the truth is she had no idea how she felt, not after the other day threw her off, but she wasn’t going to pressure herself to get her own feelings in order until she was well and ready. Instead she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and said the simplest truth she could manage: “I don’t want to pick up where we left off.”

Will sighed, crumpled slightly, but he almost seemed relieved. “I knew it was a matter of time before I had to hear it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m happy to have you as a friend, Deanna.”