Trek Femslash Comment Ficathon
Jan. 26th, 2020 04:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmic_llin
Welcome, one and all, to the Trek Femslash Comment Ficathon!
Rules and What-not:
1. Stories should be femslash. And about Star Trek characters. Crossovers are a-ok. Any length, any rating, any theme or style. Heck, if you're moved to a vid or icons or something, those are good too.
2. Prompts should be in the format PAIRING; PROMPT WORD(S)
3. Leave as many prompts as you like, fill as many as you like. There's no need to post a story if you post a prompt.
4. Feel free to write for prompts that already have fills - the more the merrier!
5. For fills, please note pairing, rating and any applicable warnings in the comment header.
6. Play nice; have fun!
Note: This ficathon is running permanently. Feel free to drop in any time to leave a prompt or answer one!
seven/torres; t (t+?); no warnings - by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
sophia_gratiaDeanna Troi/Beverly Crusher, teen, no warnings I can think of - by
oparuKira Nerys / Jadzia Dax, G, warningless fluff - by
chesariNumber One/Christine Chapel, The Way You Make Me Feel - by
merisunshine36Ro Laren/Tasha Yar, G, mentions of war - by
cosmic_llinLily Sloane/Nyota Uhura; G - by
cosmic_llinChapel/Uhura, PG - by
ubiquitousmixieSeven/B'Elanna, M - by
cosmic_llinDeanna Troi/Jadzia Dax, Teen, vague mentions of broken bones - by
oparukira/dax; m; warning: consensual bondage - by
sophia_gratiaKira/Janeway, PG13, everything changes - by
ubiquitousmixieNumber One/Uhura (AOS), 'Professional' and Part 2 - by
merisunshine36Kira/Dax - by
entropy233Kira/B'Elanna - by
entropy233Leah Brahms/B'Elanna Torres wallpaper - by
abydos_dorkLeah Brahms/B'Elanna Torres, G - by
cosmic_llinJadzia Dax/Grilka, wallpaper - by
abydos_dorkLeah Brahms/B'Elanna Torres, An Ever-Fixed Mark, T - by
abydos_dorkBeverly Crusher/Kate Pulaski, PG-13 - by
carawjCrusher/Pulaski, PG - by
cosmic_llin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Since I always do...
Date: 2011-01-26 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:18 pm (UTC)Seven of Nine/B'Elanna Torres, engineering
seven/torres; t (t+?); no warnings
Date: 2011-01-26 11:15 pm (UTC)‘Excuse me?’
‘The orientation of the phase inducer is incorrect. To obtain the result you desire, you must rotate it one hundred and eighty degrees.’
‘And may I ask how you know what result I desire?’
‘Some aspects of this device's practical applications may elude me, Lieutenant, but the theoretical principles of its design are perfectly clear.’
B’Elanna took a deep breath. Set down her hyperspanner. Drew a wrist across her brow. Took another deep breath. Carefully raised her eyes.
‘Seven?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant.’
‘What the hell are you doing in my quarters?’
‘I came to deliver the specifications for the astrometrics lab’s energy requirements. However, I now see that I can be of some assistance in this matter, as well.’
And damn it to hell if that wasn’t just what B’Elanna despised about her. Somewhere along the line, Seven of Nine had acquired a deft touch with tone. Sardonic was her greatest achievement, a linguistic study in Borg perfection. And it drove B’Elanna bloody crazy.
‘I do not require your assistance, Seven. Thank you for the specs; leave them on the table.’ Seven, still standing by the door, shifted only to a slightly less stiff approximation of attention. A more sardonic approximation. Damn her.
‘If you hope to finish before your shift begins, Lieutenant – and I can only infer that you hope to finish before your shift begins’ – was that a smirk? – ‘then you certainly require my assistance.’
B’Elanna blushed. Damn it, but she blushed.
Now what? Boot Seven from the room this instant – thus comfirming her own embarrassment? Or allow her to stay – thus not only admitting need for help, bad enough, but involving this mechanical mutt in a private project? B’Elanna Torres’ least favorite kind of dilemma: a choice between two shades of damaged pride.
‘Fine,’ she snapped. Seven nodded, crossed the room, and smiled. Seemed to smile. Half-smirked. Whatever. Damn her.
B’Elanna rotated the phase inducer. The object on the table clacked and whirred, hopped three centimetres to its right, fizzed gently, and died.
‘I believe this is the most... innovative purpose to which I have seen a phase inducer put, Lieutenant. A simpler design would be more efficient.’ Sitting next to B’Elanna on the couch, ignoring her eye-roll, she tilted her head at some undoubtedly calculated angle, examining the device’s internal structure. Her eyes focused and scanned – it crossed B’Elanna’s mind, against her will, that she wouldn’t mind that intent, if mechanical, attention turned on her. Seven, mercifully absorbed in her analysis, nodded once. ‘I see your problem.’
Seven took the device in one hand – B’Elanna winced – and reached up with the other to draw a micro-optic drill from her tightly twisted hair. So that's how she does it. A blonde mess tumbled around Seven's shoulders, and from behind her glare, B’Elanna winced again – at quite a different frequency.
‘Observe, Lieutenant.’ Seven deftly touched the drill’s beam once to each joining of fiberoptic resonator to phase inducer. She reached across B’Elanna’s lap for the tritanium casing that sat next to her on the couch. Her hair fell across B’Elanna’s forearms, a quiet series of static shocks. Impassive, she slid the device into its long and gently molded shaft, and calmly clipped the casing closed.
B’Elanna swallowed hard. The sleek tritanium shaft against the sleek design of Seven’s hand. Mechanics, flesh and blood, mechanics. This elegant-lewd device; this woman’s hand; this half-mechanical woman’s hand.
Matter-of-fact, Seven handed it to her. ‘Enjoy your morning off, Lieutenant.’ Her deft touch for tone. The quick appraising glance, her sardonic but suggestive pitch.
The doors sighed shut behind her cool, efficient exit.
B’Elanna turned the toy in her hands, warming the tritanium.
She touched her lips to its softly molded head. Her breath came sharp as the fingers of one hand slowly worked her trousers open. She tapped one fingertip twice, lightly, on the base. It hummed. She sighed.
When metal touched her gently aching clit, she keened and swore she was not thinking of a half-mechanical woman’s sleek metallic hands.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-11 06:57 am (UTC)Looking for par'Mach can be intense. :D
Caps from trekcore, textures from gender.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 05:27 pm (UTC)"You know you want to..." Jadzia whispered back in a singsong voice.
"Major? Lieutenant? Is there anything you would like to share with the rest of us?"
"No, commander. Sorry," Kira replied and shot a scathing look at Dax.
Dax stifled a laugh.
After the meeting, as Jadzia was leaving, Kira grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
"Lieutenant, you are hereby forbidden to ask me to join you in a holosuite program ever."
"But it would have been so fun..."
"FUN? I don't have time for fun. People are dying, there's chaos on the station, I'm being kicked out of this crew and reassigned to a desk in some office! No, Dax, fun is not in my schedule, and to be quite frank, it shouldn't be in yours either."
"Alright. Then what *are* you going to do?"
"Excuse me?"
"You seem to have plenty on your plate. Now how do you plan to solve the problems?"
"I-I'll think of some way."
"May I help?"
"No. I can do it."
"..."
"Maybe a little."
"Run away with me, Nerys."
"To where?"
This caught Jadzia by surprise. She had expected at least a little more objection.
"Anywhere you want."
"Like...the mountains?"
"Sure."
"Or the lake on the southern peninsula?"
"Whatever pleases you."
"What would we do there?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"We'd be bored."
"Then absolutely anything."
"You're tempting me."
"Then lets go."
"Now?"
"When else?"
*sigh*
"Let's go."
"One sec."
"Now you want to wait? You're the one talking about leaving."
"Just...one sec."
Jadzia pulled her friend into a kiss. Kira softened.
"That was unexpected."
"Do you love me, Nerys?"
"Why would you bother asking that?"
"Just...remember it for later."
"Can we go now?"
"Sure." Jadzia pulled a slender metal cylinder out of her pocket, tossed it to Nerys, and ran for the turbolift. "I'll see you at 18 hundred hours, okay?"
"Jadzia, you-" Kira ran for the turbolift, but Jadzia was already traveling away from ops.
Kira didn't know whether to laugh or court marshall.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 09:38 pm (UTC)Deanna Troi/Beverly Crusher, teen, no warnings I can think of
From:Re: Deanna Troi/Beverly Crusher, teen, no warnings I can think of
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-02-13 05:19 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: Deanna Troi/Beverly Crusher, teen, no warnings I can think of
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:38 pm (UTC)OMG
Date: 2011-01-26 05:58 pm (UTC)Re: OMG
Date: 2011-01-26 06:01 pm (UTC)Re: OMG
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:00 pm (UTC){How do I have neither a Seven nor a B'Elanna icon? WTF?}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:02 pm (UTC)Kira Nerys / Jadzia Dax, G, warningless fluff
Date: 2011-01-28 06:18 am (UTC)"The view's just fine where I am," comes the reply. "Besides, somebody has to get this" - there's the clang of metal, a frustrated oath - "this TENT set up before sundown." Tent could pass for an expletive, the way Nerys says it.
"What do we need a tent for? We can sleep under the stars."
A sharp laugh. "You've obviously never been in Dahkur during one of the summer storms. Trust me, if one of those comes along, you'll want the tent."
Jadzia rolls her eyes. "Nerys, it's not going to rain! There's not a cloud in the sky. It's gorgeous up here, come on!"
A sigh - a very loud one, for it to be audible this far away - and Nerys appears at the foot of the tree, peering up at her through the branches. "If I climb up there, as soon as I'm ready to climb down, you're coming with me."
"Fair enough," Jadzia says, smiling. She knows she's won.
Nerys scrambles up the tree with less than her usual grace and more than a few muttered curses. Jadzia leans out and offers her arm, and Nerys grabs on, hauls herself up to balance against the branch that Jadzia is perched on.
"Look." Jadzia points ahead, toward the hills turned golden by the slanting sunlight and deep blue where the light doesn't reach. In the valley below a river glistens, threading a path through red earth and gold-green forest.
"You're right," Nerys says. "It's pretty." The words are short, clipped, but her tone has softened already.
She has a leaf caught in her hair. Jadzia reaches for it, brushes it away.
Nerys turns and gives her a look that's trying to be stern, but it's not at all convincing. The twitch at the corner of her mouth is a dead giveaway. "Aren't YOU going to watch the beautiful sunset?"
"Well," Jadzia says. "Something beautiful, anyway."
That earns her a smile and, once she's managed to bend down and claim it, a kiss.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:03 pm (UTC)Kira Nerys / B'Elanna Torres; bat'leths and raktajino
no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 05:58 pm (UTC)"Relax, Major. Contrary to popular belief, I *do* have an honest establishment here."
"It's alright," the young woman sitting at the bar said, "I'm just renting a holosuite program."
"How much is he asking for," Kira said, not impressed.
"A fair price. It's none of your business anyway!" The woman said.
Kira cocked an eyebrow.
"I don't know who you are, but I have the run of the station around here, and everyone's business becomes my business. Especially in this bar. Now I'm telling you, try to spurn me off again, and I'll call security. I don't trust anyone who quietly deals with him."
"She's not joking," Quark said, "Her boyfriend's the hea- Alright! I'm leaving!"
The woman at the bar turned to face the Major. The pair paused, sizing each other up. Kira noticed the ridges on the stranger's forehead. A hybrid - she assumed - they weren't as pronounced. Finally the part-klingon stood up.
"I don't take orders from anyone," she said in a low voice and held a glass threateningly.
"And I don't put up with empty threats," Kira cooly responded. B'Elanna threw the glass, shattering it against the wall, then smiled.
"B'Elanna Torres," she said.
"Kira Nerys."
"Care to join my program?"
"I- I hate holosuites."
"Fine. Join me in my quarters then? A real sparring partner beats photons and forcefields any day.
"See you there."
**
Kira presses the panel next to the door to her new friend's quarters. Inside, the door chimed.
"Come," B'Elanna called. Kira walked in without hesitation. Immediately, B'Elanna through a bat'leth at her. Kira caught it with unmistakable grace.
"I'm afraid I've never fought klingon-style before."
"Hand-to-hand?" In response, Kira launched herself at B'Elanna. B'Elanna stumbled back, but pushed Kira off of her in an attempt to flip her over. Kira caught her wrist and shielded herself against the attack. They moved across the room, jabbing, parrying, kicking...
Finally B'Elanna grabbed Kira and threw her back. Kira fell on the table, knocking over a half-full cup of raktajino. The thick drink spilled, staining Kira's exercise clothes. Kira slipped off the glass table and landed on the floor with a grunt, sending B'Elanna into peals of laughter.
"Why you-" Kira jumped, sending the two of them to the floor. B'Elanna was pinned under the slightly smaller (B'Elanna must have underestimated her for her size) Kira, who had a relentless grip on B'Elanna's neck.
"Alright, alright," B'Elanna choked. Kira was unrelenting.
"Are you crazy?" The klingon was rasping, trying to breathe. Using the last of her strength, she pushed herself into a sitting position, then leaned forward and kissed her sparring partner. Caught by surprise, Kira loosened her grip and B'Elanna squirmed out.
The pair sat across from each other on the floor, panting.
"You fight dirty," Kira said.
"What? Is that some innuendo?" B'Elanna laughed breathlessly.
"Not funny."
"You tasted like raktajino."
"Still not funny."
"Rematch?"
Kira's eyes glinted.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:46 pm (UTC)Number One/Christine Chapel, The Way You Make Me Feel
Date: 2011-01-28 01:31 am (UTC)It's the middle of finals in her first year of med school and Christine is determined to succeed in all of them, crushing them beneath her with her innate intellect, and when that doesn't work, by sheer force of will. When studying her whole body is focused; those long legs of hers curled pretzel-like in her chair while she huddles over the desk that she's colonized with a number of PADDs, old paper books, and a few models of internal organs belonging to a species Number One can't put a name to.
The edges of One's mouth soften at the slightly puzzled look on Christine's face--despite a preference for recording her thoughts longhand, her notes are usually unintelligible. Her handwriting is a free-flowing scrawl that has more in common with Vulcan script than any alphabet the Greeks ever came up with. The point of the stylus makes a faint tapping noise as she plays with it against the edge of her teeth, and the lines of her face are softened by the ashe blonde curl that's escaped from the messy bun atop her head.
Number One envies her ability to become completely lost in something to the exclusion of all else. Her own brain functions like a machine, always busy with a thousand different tasks ranked according to priority and the amount of attention necessary for completion. Only Christine can lend her that sense of single-minded focus, keeping all of the white noise in her brain at bay with a touch of those skilled hands, her generous mouth, and the intense gaze of those lovely, soft eyes.
In a moment of sudden self-awareness, she looks up and catches Number One staring at her.
"What is it?" she asks, the stylus dangling from her fingers.
One taps the screen of her PADD to bring it back to life; it had gone dormant a long time ago for want of attention.
"Nothing in particular," One responds. "It's just you."
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:47 pm (UTC)(If you're using a screenreader, they are dark chocolate cupcakes with milk chocolate buttercream frosting, topped with a hollowed out strawberry which has been filled with high-proof alcohol and set on fire. From Sprinklebakes.com blog post: Chocolate Cupcakes with Flaming Strawberries (http://www.sprinklebakes.com/2011/01/chocolate-cupcakes-with-flaming.html).)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:51 pm (UTC)(According to Memory Alpha, Ro is about three years younger than Yar, so they could have met at the Academy.)
Ro Laren/Tasha Yar, G, mentions of war
Date: 2011-01-26 11:36 pm (UTC)'Of course you don't,' said Tasha. 'You can manage just fine on your own, you've had to.'
Ro glared at her. 'Don't patronise me.'
'Did you talk this way to your admissions board?' Tasha asked. 'I'm surprised they let you in.'
'I just... I don't want any special treatment.'
'So what,' said Tasha, 'you think you'll be able to keep up with fleet-level engineering? Complex first contact protocols? All the hundreds of regulations you'll have to know off the top of your head before you can serve on a starship? With barely any formal education and the reading ability of a fourth-grader?'
Ro shrugged. 'I got this far, didn't I?'
'You got this far because you're from a war-torn place and they're giving you the benefit of the doubt. But you can't go any further on potential alone. You need to shape up.'
'And I suppose you're the person to help me do that?'
Ro's smile was mocking.
'Yes,' said Tasha. 'I am.'
* * *
Tasha wouldn't have cared if they had only let her work waste reclamation, as long as it was on a Starfleet ship. As it was, she'd applied to do basic training and become a crewman, but after her aptitude test they'd offered her a place at the Academy instead, on probation.
'If you can't keep up, it's nothing to be ashamed of,' said the kind admiral who chaired her admissions board. 'You can go back and do basic, and we'll give you the rank of Crewman, first class, and it won't be any blemish on your record, or your character. But try the Academy, and talk with the group, and see how you get on.'
The group turned out to be larger than she had expected – some thirty or so cadets from all the branches of the Academy. There was an Orion girl in Sciences, a Genton boy who was top of his class in Engineering.
Most of the other cadets probably didn't even realise they were there – they all came from official Federation worlds where war and crime and hunger were things that happened somewhere far away, on the newscasts. But the other cadets in the group understood.
There was a professor assigned to coordinate them, but they mostly arranged things for themselves. The older ones each mentored one of the younger ones. They ran catch-up classes in everything from essay writing and basic math to etiquette, Federation pop culture and the rules of sports.
Tasha hadn't expected to fit in so easily.
* * *
Ro had a harder time fitting in. She skipped her catch-up classes, she didn't come to the socials, every time she and Tasha met up for progress chats, she was sullen and apathetic and rude.
But she came to them. That was something. Tasha kept inviting her places – out for coffee, Parrises Squares games, tours of the campus, shopping in the city. Ro came, more often than not. Her grades were dreadful and after six months she already had three disciplinary marks, but she spoke to Tasha with something approaching cordiality, or at least when she called her names there was a chance it might be affectionately meant.
* * *
Tasha was awake late. She had dressed for bed – after four years she still hadn't grown tired of the luxury of pyjamas – but she was worried about a test and she had stayed up studying instead. Or else she might not have heard the door chime.
It was Ro. 'I can't do it,' she announced, pushing into the room and sitting heavily down on the end of Tasha's bed.
'Do what?' Tasha asked.
'Any of it!' Ro said. She glared at Tasha.
Tasha shrugged. 'You could do it, if you let me help,' she said.
'I don't want your help.'
'Then why did you come?'
Ro said nothing. After a moment, Tasha went to sit beside her. She put a hand on Ro's shoulder. Ro sighed a long, deep sigh. Tasha wondered if she was about to cry.
'All right,' said Ro. 'I do need your help.'
She looked up at Tasha, clear-eyed. Tasha nodded. 'All right then. But tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep, and we'll work out a new catch-up schedule in the morning.'
Ro nodded. Then, thoughtfully, she leaned over and kissed Tasha.
'Goodnight,' she said.
'Goodnight, Laren,' said Tasha.
Re: Ro Laren/Tasha Yar, G, mentions of war
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 07:07 pm (UTC)