The aim of this group is to provide a showcase and resource center for artists and writers fascinated by all things Vulcan. We wish to create a space where Vulcanophiles can come to read Vulcan fanfic, view lovely Vulcan art work and collaboratively engage in creative speculation about Vulcan history, traditions, and culture.
GUIDELINES for SUBMISSIONS:
We will accept art work created in any medium that features Vulcan characters, costumes, symbols, scenery, and/or technology.
We also welcome submissions of fiction and/or essays about Vulcan characters and culture.
We do not accept nudes or sexually explicit material
Pay attention to folder titles when submitting. (We have quite a few now. Be sure you've looked through the whole list.)
STC: My Big Fat Vulcan Wedding: EpilogueSTC: My Big Fat Vulcan Wedding: Epilogue by DrOfDemonology
Open Space, S.S. Calypso
September 20, 2268
When the door to Garadun’s quarters opened and Cera stepped inside, she found that the illumination was somewhat dim when compared to the way most people kept it. Off to her right was his bedroom, and it was lit by a single lamp on the night table by the bed. In the main living room, which she’d entered, there was again only a single tall lamp next to the sofa. In the study beyond the living room there were no lights at all.
It was 22:45 hours by shipboard time. Or as Garadun would insist: “That’s quarter to eleven, already. Enough of this hundred-hours shit.”
Her best friend was really quite old-fashioned in many ways; the room lighting was a perfect example. It was late at night so he kept things lit appropriately. He only used the lighting panels built into the ceiling during the day, and his quarters only had one per room. His living room was laid out l
A Friendly Competition“I must admit I am concerned about Spock’s cognitive development.”A Friendly Competition by SweetOphelia4231616
Amanda glanced first at Sarek and then at their young son, fast asleep in his crib and blissfully unaware of his father’s unforgiving assessment. Not for the first time, she thought idly that his tiny pointed ears made him look like a gift from fairies or some other mythical creature of Terran lore.
“What? But he’s so bright! You can already tell he wants to know about everyone and everything.”
“He’s bright for a human child, perhaps. A full Vulcan would have started talking approximately 2.3 months ago.”
She sighed, surrendering before the cold, hard facts as she had done so many times before. Spock’s preferred mode of communication was a mix of disjointed flashes of mental contact whenever either of their faces came within reach of his little hands, fits of crying that Sarek was already beginning to disapprove of (and perhaps rightfully so, but that did
Docking ProceduresThere were plenty of good reasons for plomeek soup to be considered a staple of Vulcan cuisine: it was, under all possible aspects, an eminently logical dish. Nutritionally adequate, easy to swallow even for small children, and bland enough in taste not to come as a shock to their little palates, unused to the variety of flavours of adult food. Perfect, one might even venture to say.Docking Procedures by SweetOphelia4231616
And that was why Amanda’s unrestrained fit of laughter came with a moment of shocked delay at the sight of the curious spectacle currently offered by her husband, who was as close as she’d ever seen him to showing an actual feeling—in this case, frustration.
Simply put, there was probably more soup on his once-pristine robes and hair than had actually landed into Spock’s mouth.
“I would ask that you cease this display at once. There is very little motive for laughter; in fact, I am considering notifying a healer.”
She forced herself to stop, if only to ask about t
Building BlocksRefraining from outward emotional displays, at least in public, had become such an ingrained habit for Amanda that she sometimes feared her facial muscles were going to start creaking from disuse like old, rusty door hinges, but the scene before her was simply irresistible, and besides, a simple smile in the blessed privacy of their home wouldn’t kill anyone.Building Blocks by SweetOphelia4231616
She crossed the room on tiptoe, even though she knew full well that the sound of her footsteps and the soft rustling of her clothes must have already reached Sarek’s proverbially sharp ears. It was physically impossible for a human to sneak up on a Vulcan, but from time to time, he pretended she could, perhaps with the flimsy excuse that he was too engrossed in his work to pay attention.
Sitting perfectly straight, PADD in hand, her husband seemed, as always, to be demonstrating the best ergonomically sound working posture to an invisible audience. She bent to place a feather-light kiss on his cheek from behind, and it
Silent TreatmentSpock would never admit it, but his human half was worried. Sometimes, at night, in the privacy of his room, when all sorts of inopportune thoughts invaded his mind without his permission before they were finally silenced by blissful sleep, he was caught by the sneaking suspicion that he might be doing his mother a disservice by blaming everything that went wrong on his Terran heritage, but it was a ready-made excuse and it would have been illogical to ignore it.Silent Treatment by SweetOphelia4231616
“Your concern may be viewed as a sign of weakness, Spock.” For all his protestations of emotionlessness, Sarek was awfully good at showing disapproval, but as a true diplomat, there were often hidden meanings in his words, and Spock had long since learnt to cling to them for comfort. That thing humans called 'worry' was still distasteful, but he had not called it irrational: he might just as easily be reading too much into it, but perhaps his father hadn't meant to tell him that it was wrong to feel it, mere
The Rhyme of the Vulcan LegionThe trumpet sangThe Rhyme of the Vulcan Legion by Katrazzi
And the lute rang
And to Andoria my valiant Legion flew,
With Le-Matya’s rage
A war to wage
On the defiant and vile Blue, and vile Blue!
Lit is the torch,
Farewell, The Forge!
Farewell, Seleya and glorious golden sky!
In my heart tarries your parting sigh, your parting sigh!
I shall return;
The foe shall burn
In the sun of Vulcan I am bringing over there,
The woe shall pass,
The head of Shras
Shall dangle from the belt of your Legionnaire, your Legionnaire!
T'Kumbra survival 1T’KumbraT'Kumbra survival 1 by StarTrekSFAcademy
I stared in deep thought outside the shuttle craft window. “Hey, something bothering you,” My driver asked?” “Oh wait, your Vulcan……..” I smiled and shook my head,” I wish I wasn’t.” “I was raised on the earth embassy with my mother whom is human.” He nodded. “Fascinating, my mother is Andorian and my father is Anear!” Then the shuttle craft signaled we had arrived. “Well it was a pleasure, Ensign!” “The pleasure was mine Commander.” I exited the shuttle entering the lively space station DS9.
I sighed heading toward Docking Station 8 where my fate awaited. I was seriously not thrilled to be stuck on an all Vulcan ship for a half year as commander. A Vulcan officer stood tall and firm I guess waiting for me. “Commander T’prin reporting for duty,” I informed the LT.” He nodded. “This way,” he said gesturing for me to follow.”
Logically Speaking - Vulcan VanityLogically Speaking - Vulcan Vanity by Sailmaster-Seion
ARE VULCAN WOMEN VAIN? by Lt Cdr T'Selin Lyras Syyran, aka "The Laughing Vulcan"
"Vanity is a human emotion."
"To hide one's physical appearance would be a lie."
"Vulcans do still have a strong esthetic sense."
"We only do this for religious reason."
"It is just a part of our genetic make-up."
You hear these answers a lot when you ask a Vulcan female the question "Are Vulcan women obsessed with their image?" but those don't really answer the question. Being a Vulcan female myself, I will have to answer this question.
YES! Do you ever wonder why that when you see a gathering of Vulcans, the females look like they have just stepped out of their own individual fashion datafile while the males all wear pretty much THE SAME TUNIC AND TROUSERS? Or that each of the women wears her hair in elaborate braids and buns while all of the men look like they put a plomeek bowl over their heads and trimmed away the excess? This doesn't include the cosmetics, jewelry, or the deliberate
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