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.)
CheckmateWhen Sarek decided to teach Spock to play chess, Amanda privately thought he was too young to enjoy it, but her husband seemed bent on keeping his brain busy lately, so she swallowed her doubts.
The last of her objections vanished when she caught them in the middle of the first lesson, with an old-fashioned two-dimensional board between them: Spock seemed to ask for nothing better than a new pastime, but it wasn’t exactly going spectacularly.
He was holding a white rook between his fingers, head cocked in puzzlement, staring at it as if it had personally offended him.
“That is illogical. A tower should not be able to move at all, in a straight line or not.”
“It is a human game, my son. It does not do to question its logic.”
Amanda had to flee the room to have her most undignified, and very human, fit of the giggles.
“How’s our miniature chess master progressing?”
“He is unlikely to become a master at this rate. It is unfortun
A Little SomeoneWhat had once been a comfortable bed was beginning to feel like a prison to Amanda. As her pregnancy progressed in a whirl of visits by a seemingly endless procession of Vulcan doctors with little to no bedside manner, her orders for ‘restricted activity’ had slowly but surely turned into almost complete bed rest, and if she were honest with herself, she was going crazy with boredom.
Not that she intended to engage in any extreme sports anytime soon—she was well aware that even the slightest sudden movement could be too much for the fragile balance her body was struggling to keep with the help of more hypos than she cared to count, and if the baby’s survival meant spending most of the day getting intimately acquainted with the ceiling above her, so be it.
Still, as much as Sarek had adapted his routine to hers in order to spend virtually all of his precious little free time by her side (and she had a niggling suspicion that he’d been forgoing some of his d
A Friendly Competition“I must admit I am concerned about Spock’s cognitive development.”
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.
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
The Rhyme of the Vulcan LegionThe trumpet sang
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 the 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 carrying over there,
The woe shall pass,
The head of Shras
Shall dangle from the belt of your Legionnaire, your Legionnaire!
T'Kumbra survival 1T’Kumbra
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.”
|More Journal Entries|