December '08 Word Prompt

[evcake]

Thanks! I really like your story. Speculations about T'Pol's father fascinate me.

[Aquarius]

That's a lovely poem, evcake!

[Chelle-sama]

I think I've got one. It's short, entirely un-beta'd, written in just an hour today, and no doubt shows the signs of 7 years of anime fandoms, but I'm willing to post it. I'm nervous because I've seen how good the other fics have been, but be brutal or I'll never get better, okay?


Disclaimer: Star Trek, in all it permutations, is the property of Paramount. Characters are used without permission and not for profit.

Dedication: Circe.

Notes: Spoilers for Impulse through Harbinger. Written for the December word prompt: whisper. Rated PG-13 for allusions to drug use and sex.

Summary: Just because she thought it out doesn’t mean she knew what she was doing. A quick study on why T’Pol ended up abusing drugs and trying to drop Trip like a hot coal. Sort of a missing moment from just before the ‘morning after’ conversation in Harbinger.


Method to Madness

She wasn’t stupid.

Phlox said Trellium-D was toxic to Vulcans and the evidence bore that out; in large doses, with a great deal of contact, it had proven to be so. Trellium was unknown outside the Expanse, though, so it had never been truly tested. The source of that toxicity - the solid form, liquid form, or from fumes given off when the liquid form came into contact with air - that was unknown. The effect of small, controlled doses? Also unknown.

She was careful with it. Tiny doses, solid and liquid, ingested, triggered the desired emotional effects without the raging paranoia or homicidal fury. Tiny doses, liquid, injected, had some negative effects that quickly gave way to calmer and more rational feelings. These effects from injection were more intense and lasted for a great duration than those experienced through ingestion.

It was foolish, of course. She was aware of that when she’d started her experiments. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have been so secretive about it. She was purposely exposing herself to a known neurological toxin in order to circumvent the strict training every Vulcan went through for their own good. That was neither sensible nor logical. An emotional Vulcan was a dangerous Vulcan, to themselves and others. That was known fact. Her experience with Tolaris should have been proof enough of that.

Vulcan emotions, however, were problematic at best. Hers had ever been strong, ever been close to the surface, and she’d always been fascinated by them. The mere possibility that she might be able to experience them, and control those experiences, was seductive. It was embarrassingly naïve thinking, that she could do what thousands of generations of Vulcans could not, and she sometimes wondered if she knew she was fooling herself. She never let herself think too closely on the subject.

Of course, the fact that she ‘knew better’ was meaningless. ‘Knowing better’ does nothing to stop temptation and is worthless once temptation has been indulged.

The whole thing had not been well reasoned, she could admit that, but it had not struck her as outright dangerous. Even with her robe a silken puddle on the floor and Trip naked beneath her, her experiments hadn’t seemed any riskier than their mission was.

It wasn’t until the alarm klaxon sounded that her frighteningly precarious position was revealed to her. The ship and their lives were in danger and Trip spared a second they couldn’t be sure they could afford to kiss her before he tore off to Engineering.

That moment, with alarms screaming and Trip running, was the moment the most primitive part of her Vulcan nature whispered that it was one thing to risk her life, another entirely to risk her heart.

She was not stupid. She knew which she valued more.

+++
There's another, even murkier, whisper prompt in the works if anyone has the time in the next couple of days to look it over for me.

Chelle

[Alelou]

Love that image of the robe puddled on the floor and Trip sparing her a kiss they aren't sure they have time for. Her analysis is depressingly Vulcan, if I'm reading it correctly. (Poor Trip.) But this piece does feel like it could continue. Which is to say I'd welcome more.

(And happy belated birthday!)

[bluetiger]

That was very well done. Very evocative of the state T'Pol was in at that time. I also loved the sensual imagery of the robe.

[Aquarius]

Love that image of the robe puddled on the floor and Trip sparing her a kiss they aren't sure they have time for. Her analysis is depressingly Vulcan, if I'm reading it correctly. (Poor Trip.) But this piece does feel like it could continue. Which is to say I'd welcome more.

(And happy belated birthday!)

I'll second that, and I'm excited at the notion of a second story! Is it a continuation, or something entirely different?

As observed earlier, I'm loving the diversity of the responses this month. I'm also happy to see new faces participating, as well as we "usual suspects"!

[Asso]

Chelle-sama, your little piece evokes deep sensations, It's sensual. Yes. I think this is the exact term. It's as sensual as sensual T'Pol is. T'Pol has the sensual desire (and delight) to be DIFFERENT. At least, this one is one of the sensations I perceive in her. And, someway, I found all that in your little-big story. Thanks.

[Escriba]

Aquarius, short but complete. Bt the way, it's me or all your stories are very sensual (and most of them have something to do with eating )?

Evcake, I know nothing about poesy, so the only thing I can say is that it looks (from the point of view of a complete ignorant) very beautiful.

Chelle-sama. Ohhhh... Just, ohhhh... I'm glad you decided to take part on this Very, very good, yes. Your T'Pol is very realistic (and I'm telling you this as a person that hates "Harbinger" with passion. Not all of it, just the "breakfast scene.")

By the way, I thought of a story, but I'm really busy... Well, December isn't over yet

[Aquarius]

Aquarius, short but complete. Bt the way, it's me or all your stories are very sensual (and most of them have something to do with eating )?

I guess I see Trip and T'Pol as a very sensual pairing, so even in stories when I'm trying to be funny with them, it's gotta come out there, too.

As for the eating thing, I hadn't noticed the pattern, but maybe there's something to that? I guess even when I was getting Trip annihilated at the 602 Club, we have to assume he was nibbling on some popcorn or peanuts or something, huh?

Though I'm sure T'Pol would argue that there isn't anything very sensual about craving sauerkraut...

By the way, I thought of a story, but I'm really busy... Well, December isn't over yet

Very good news indeed! Even if you don't finish it before December's over, remember it's never too late!

[Chelle-sama]

I've got 5 minutes left and a mostly un-beta'd fic! (Circe read it and said 'it's decent' but since she's a) my twin b) not really in the Star Trek fandom and c) just happy she had something to read that she didn't write, her opinion may be biased.) Suggestions for how to improve this are welcomed!

Disclaimer: Star Trek, in all its permutations, is the property of Paramount. Environs and characters are used without permission and not for profit. Summary quote is from Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It.’

Dedication:[b] Circe.

[b]Notes: December word prompt: whisper. Spoilers for season 3, episode 21. Rated G. Eastern Standard Time, for those not in the U.S., is an hour ahead of Central, so 2 o’clock EST is 1 o’clock CST.

Summary: “…and all the men and women merely players….” An exploration of just how far the Vulcan parent/child bond might reach.


Stage

It was only when he was ten and learning to dance that Charlie Tucker finally had a way to explain the feeling he’d been born with: If it looked like he was leading, it was only because he was following backwards.

There wasn’t anything overt about the feeling that lead him through life – taking a left one light early, saying he liked turtles even though he’d never really thought about it before, favoring plain old cheese pizza, deciding to drive straight through the night instead of stopping – but he could feel it when it happened. Like music just beyond hearing, the hint of a breeze against one cheek, a flash of light on the horizon, it just was without ever actually being.

He didn’t mind it. Sure, the alternator on the car had locked up tight just outside of Ditch Pond when he decided to drive to Panama City instead of stay in Vernon. And of course all the hotels were full due to the opening day of duck season, but he’d ended up staying with the tow truck driver’s mother and meeting his lovely sister, Sara. From her, he’d picked up that interest in Go, which led him to auditing a Japanese class at the local college, which led him to Julia, who broke his heart, but not before he met her cousin Ryan, and Ryan’s future wife Tina, whose best friend was Allison Tate, who really got him into astronomy.

And, frankly, he didn’t think it was all that odd, really. Predestination, divine influence, possession, reincarnation, determinism; every religion seemed to have something to say about the odd, sub-conscious nudges he got. He just continued to charge headlong and headstrong into whatever caught his fancy and if he was being aimed, well, so what? It seemed like one heck of a ride.

Not that it came up much in casual conversation. He talked about it to his father, once, as they watched the kids running wild through the yard. Daddy recognized the behavior, commented on it, and that was about the end of it.

And, too, it had eased off some when the kids came along. His oldest boy seemed to have cornered the market on un-heard advice. Which was all right by Charlie; he had what he wanted most in life and he figured that the young needed guiding more than the old ever did. The boy was a bit off-kilter, anyway.

Then, suddenly and all out of nowhere, he found himself standing with his son, waiting for his son to arrive. He could feel it as clear as ever. That leading, follow-me feeling, stronger than ever before but it wasn’t going anywhere, just building up and up until Charlie was as nervous as a cat at the dog pound.

He rocked, literally, when it hit. Felt like a bomb had gone off in his head, playing the Hallelujah chorus when it blew. Beside him, Junior staggered and put his hand out onto the window with a quiet ‘finally.’

That just about covered it.

He marked the time on his watch without quite knowing why. 11:12 p.m. Eastern Standard.

Less than a minute later, his wife was in with the news of a healthy baby boy.

+++

Light years away, a certain Tucker’s hand overshot his tool box and connected with a live antimatter relay.

“Son of a-!” He sat up in the crawlspace and stuck his burned fingers into his mouth while he regained his bearings. There was a feeling, a faint impression of warmth deep inside his mind, which made him get up and find a computer terminal.

What he saw raised both eyebrows. Not only had he thought it was still Tuesday, but they had apparently found an extra minute somewhere in the 33 years since he’d last set the clock. Family lore and personnel files were quite clear on the matter, but the clock was telling him that it was 2213, Central Standard Time.

Lorian reset it and went back to his flux coupler. The ship was coming down around his ears; he couldn’t afford to celebrate his father’s birth just yet.

+++

The follow-up to my last fic is going fit under 'scream' and is in progress. Thank you, everyone, for your kind words about it! The only other fic I ever posted to a community (other than FF.N who'll take anything), I got ripped to shreds because I had two characters getting along. The Ray Wars in due South were not safe for anyone who liked both Rays. So I was really, really nervous about posting here. I should have known better!

Chelle

[Alelou]

1. You can write up a storm. Great writing, really intriguing idea. Love the way you got yourself into it -- the leading backwards idea. Great!
2. But I'm a still confused about just who these things are happening to, who is giving advice to whom, that sort of thing. I know Charlie and Junior and so forth ought to make it clear to me, but I think maybe I needed just a few more sign posts to help me find my way through this one. Everytime I thought I had it figured out I'd realize, wait a minute, that can't be it. But other people may be better at this than I am.

[Aquarius]

Great work, Chelle! In particular I liked the line "...If it looked like he was leading, it was only because he was following backwards." I like the theme of instinct and universal/familial connectivity--is it a sixth sense, or is something else out there pulling the strings? Very intriguing indeed.

[krn]

December was a very busy month for me - I'm *just now* getting around to catching up on the board (I have managed to keep up on the fics!)

So, since Aquarious so kindly requested a MU continuation, I whipped up this little ditty. Hopefully it will satisfy. Unbeta'd, but at least spell-checked. Share & Enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Whisper
Rating: PG-13 for blatant suggestiveness
Disclaimer: I write for fun, not for profit.
Note: This snippet belongs to my MU-niverse stories (Disease/Addiction/Imprisoned). It probably makes more sense if you've read them, but you'll get the gist anyway if you haven't. Takes place concurrent to 'Intoxicated' (my Sept '08 word prompt)
----
He was exhausted. He was fed up with the Andorians. He didn't care what the Empress wanted, he wasn't going to help them any more. They were on their own. Why couldn't they be more like the Vulcan's and just do what he said?

He didn't even get his uniform off before hitting the bed. Stupid Andorians. At least this last month wasn't a total waste. When he heard she was coming he wasn't sure they could pull it off. But, there *are* benefits of being Head of Engineering; he was one of two people who have level one access to the Transporter logs. And Hoshi was too busy with politics to worry about transporter logs.

She had been insatiable. With every joining their passion burned and consumed them. His body and mind would explode into a million pieces, rejoin, and when he awoke he would explode again. He couldn't get enough. He would *never* get enough.

She was leaving. Already on her ship back to her hellish heat. She left him with nothing but the scars of her nails and teeth. He could still feel them. He had given her a few of her own. The self-satisfied smirk that crossed his distorted features reached out to the stars like a beacon. As she speed away from him, light years at a time, within his mind he could still feel their bond tugging at him, like a whisper.

[Asso]

Beautiful, KRN, very beautiful. And the end is GREAT!

[Alelou]

Yup, very nice ending.

Is it just me, or has a lot of the fic been a little heated around here lately? <<<Fans self>>>

Must be cabin fever...