pay no attention to the fic behind the cut.
So close to summer it HURTS. I've got a long way to go between now and a week from today, so of course I'm spending my precious time writing fanfiction. What better way to procrastinate?
Drabbles prompted by Random Word Generator.
"Monty," his mum had asked him when he was old enough to answer but young enough to not mind the diminutive, "what do you plan to make of yourself?"
He had smiled like only a child can and replied with an utter joy in his heart, "a barmaid."
But when that dream died with the closing of the town tavern-- and didn't that raise a fuss with the old fogeys, and the young drunks too-- Scotty managed to tear his eyes away from the beauty of his homeland and the love of his family to the skies, and hasn't looked away since.
Hikaru's sister Mitsuko was like a sunbeam, his aged grandmother would say with a pinch to the cheek of her granddaughter, all sunlight and rays splattered throughout her universe.
"Now Hikaru," she would go on, clueless to the fact that her westernized grandchildren were uncomfortable with this display of familial closeness, "you are light, but not scattered-- like an arrow of light."
Hikaru blushed appropriately and put it out of his mind in exchange for knowledge of flight and girls, but he remembered her words the first time he took a ship into warp-- like an arrow of light.
"The particulars," her mother would say with her most stern voice, "are not important, Nyota. They muddy your judgement. Stay with principles-- never cheat, never be anything less than you can make of yourself."
So when James T. Kirk was called forward, she knew-- knew-- the temptation he had stared in the eyes when searching through the miles of coding to break the test. She knew he had sacrificed in the name of winning just this one time and she knew the heartbreak of denying herself that again and again. She knew that monster was the true no-win scenario.
Severe Emotional Distress is what they wrote in his file.
What showed up was three-day benders and waking up in rooms with no memory of how he got there; what showed up was getting money for the next weekend's shenanigans through less than reputable means; what showed up was drunken brawls and breaking his way out of the goddamn hospital if they didn't let him out in three days.
"James T. Kirk," one of his more intelligent therapists had asked, "are you afraid to die?"
Jim snorted with laughter. "I've been dying every day of my fucking life, pal."
Pavel watches as the numbers wash over him, smooth and familiar, and -- there. The glitch that's causing the problem.
The school principle doesn't believe him at first, but eventually calls Starfleet, tells them about this little prodigy that figured out the coding problem that may or may not have caused the USS Commentary to burn up upon reentering the atmosphere.
They laud Pavel and bring him to San Francisco and talk about his genius, but Pavel cannot bring himself to say the truth, that it is not his doing-- the numbers could never lie to him, never.
It is a purely human desire, this need he feels to succeed, to make something substantial of his time in Starfleet. Meditation does not heal the wound that formed when he so abruptly abandoned his father's world, nor does it explain the ambition that was absent from his Vulcan upbringing.
But Spock is a pragmatist at heart, and uses this wholly illogical disadvantage in the best way possible-- he becomes a legend, becomes the first cadet to graduate in three years with honors, becomes the first programmer of the Kobayashi Maru who is not a commander or higher in rank.
Joss is the only woman McCoy knows who would go at a divorce proceeding with all the sterility of a breach of contract hearing.
Which, really, he can concede that that's what their marriage came down to-- breach of contract. He was never there because of other people's sickness, and she wanted him while he was in his health, and he hadn't cherished anything about his wife since she started addressing him as Dr. McCoy.
There was nothing left on Earth for him to hold, so he took to the stars from this day forward, he thought bitterly as the shuttlecraft lifted off.
He can barely believe his own mind when it recognizes the unique signature that is James T. Kirk, warming him through even in that icy cave. But-- his blue eyes rip through Spock's defenses, and though so much has changed, Spock appreciates how any incarnation of Jim is able to speak without words, able to communicate I know you and I have known you and you cannot lie to me, old friend, without a single word.
The bond, so long cauterized through careful meditation, hard work, and no small amounts of pain, is raw once more.
meh. Some of these feel unfinished, but I'm actually attempting to stay within 5 words of the 100 word limit that constitutes a drabble... oh well.
Drabbles prompted by Random Word Generator.
"Monty," his mum had asked him when he was old enough to answer but young enough to not mind the diminutive, "what do you plan to make of yourself?"
He had smiled like only a child can and replied with an utter joy in his heart, "a barmaid."
But when that dream died with the closing of the town tavern-- and didn't that raise a fuss with the old fogeys, and the young drunks too-- Scotty managed to tear his eyes away from the beauty of his homeland and the love of his family to the skies, and hasn't looked away since.
Hikaru's sister Mitsuko was like a sunbeam, his aged grandmother would say with a pinch to the cheek of her granddaughter, all sunlight and rays splattered throughout her universe.
"Now Hikaru," she would go on, clueless to the fact that her westernized grandchildren were uncomfortable with this display of familial closeness, "you are light, but not scattered-- like an arrow of light."
Hikaru blushed appropriately and put it out of his mind in exchange for knowledge of flight and girls, but he remembered her words the first time he took a ship into warp-- like an arrow of light.
"The particulars," her mother would say with her most stern voice, "are not important, Nyota. They muddy your judgement. Stay with principles-- never cheat, never be anything less than you can make of yourself."
So when James T. Kirk was called forward, she knew-- knew-- the temptation he had stared in the eyes when searching through the miles of coding to break the test. She knew he had sacrificed in the name of winning just this one time and she knew the heartbreak of denying herself that again and again. She knew that monster was the true no-win scenario.
Severe Emotional Distress is what they wrote in his file.
What showed up was three-day benders and waking up in rooms with no memory of how he got there; what showed up was getting money for the next weekend's shenanigans through less than reputable means; what showed up was drunken brawls and breaking his way out of the goddamn hospital if they didn't let him out in three days.
"James T. Kirk," one of his more intelligent therapists had asked, "are you afraid to die?"
Jim snorted with laughter. "I've been dying every day of my fucking life, pal."
Pavel watches as the numbers wash over him, smooth and familiar, and -- there. The glitch that's causing the problem.
The school principle doesn't believe him at first, but eventually calls Starfleet, tells them about this little prodigy that figured out the coding problem that may or may not have caused the USS Commentary to burn up upon reentering the atmosphere.
They laud Pavel and bring him to San Francisco and talk about his genius, but Pavel cannot bring himself to say the truth, that it is not his doing-- the numbers could never lie to him, never.
It is a purely human desire, this need he feels to succeed, to make something substantial of his time in Starfleet. Meditation does not heal the wound that formed when he so abruptly abandoned his father's world, nor does it explain the ambition that was absent from his Vulcan upbringing.
But Spock is a pragmatist at heart, and uses this wholly illogical disadvantage in the best way possible-- he becomes a legend, becomes the first cadet to graduate in three years with honors, becomes the first programmer of the Kobayashi Maru who is not a commander or higher in rank.
Joss is the only woman McCoy knows who would go at a divorce proceeding with all the sterility of a breach of contract hearing.
Which, really, he can concede that that's what their marriage came down to-- breach of contract. He was never there because of other people's sickness, and she wanted him while he was in his health, and he hadn't cherished anything about his wife since she started addressing him as Dr. McCoy.
There was nothing left on Earth for him to hold, so he took to the stars from this day forward, he thought bitterly as the shuttlecraft lifted off.
He can barely believe his own mind when it recognizes the unique signature that is James T. Kirk, warming him through even in that icy cave. But-- his blue eyes rip through Spock's defenses, and though so much has changed, Spock appreciates how any incarnation of Jim is able to speak without words, able to communicate I know you and I have known you and you cannot lie to me, old friend, without a single word.
The bond, so long cauterized through careful meditation, hard work, and no small amounts of pain, is raw once more.
meh. Some of these feel unfinished, but I'm actually attempting to stay within 5 words of the 100 word limit that constitutes a drabble... oh well.