Fic: Goblin Fruits
There really is no excuse for this. Crack!fic, the result of final exams turning my brain to mush.
Fandom: Star Trek: TNG
Characters: Lal, Lore
Rating: G
Summary: Basically, Lore musing on why bananas are evil.
Author's Note: One line of dialogue taken from Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market."
Lore hates bananas.
He knows that he cannot taste them in the way that humans do, but that is the least of his complaints. The texture is wrong; the odor off-putting - yes, he can smell that properly - and they arguably have very little practical use except to sit there and look ridiculous, the fodder for phallic jokes employed by human teenagers for centuries.
Unfortunately, Lal adores them.
He has tried to discourage her from eating altogether, as he can only hold so many resources aboard his vessel and food is not a priority. But the few times they are planetside she makes a beeline for the nearest market while he conducts his business, which she would rather not know the details of anyway. And when Lore returns to his ship it is always to find it stuffed full of fruits and greens and, inevitably, bananas. This time is no different.
“We must not look at goblin men/We must not buy their fruits/Who knows upon what soil they fed/Their hungry thirsty roots?” he says and he squeezes through the narrow corridor that leads to the cockpit, made smaller still by the crates of vegetables that now run the length of it before disappearing into the cargo hold.
He dulls his olfactory system as the first wafts of what humans would describe as sickly-sweet reaches him. Lal is lounging in the co-pilot’s seat in the small cockpit, feet propped up on the console and happily peeling her new acquisition. She has come far in recent months - no longer lingering on the edge of imminent cascade failure, she has become more relaxed; more in-control of her emotions; more human than her father could ever hope to achieve. She asks about him still, but Lore is able to satisfy her with vague answers which she accepts because, inexplicably, she trusts him.
He has never been trusted before. It is a curious experience, particularly since it is unwarranted.
“I don’t know how you can stand those,” he adds, leaning over her shoulder to check the instruments. She is a good pilot, but he is better and the ship is finicky.
“They are quite good,” she says cheerfully.
“So you keep saying.” He makes a minute adjustment to their heading. “Was there any trouble?”
She shakes her head and gives a soft, “No,” but he is certain she would have given that answer regardless. It has been months since he allowed her to step foot off the ship, not since the incident on Cardassia. She is not likely to give up her regained freedom even if she was being hassled.
“Lal -”
“Uncle,” she admonishes gently. “I am fine.”
“Yes,” he says absently, placing a hand on her head. “Yes, I suppose you are.”
~~~~
Fandom: Star Trek: TNG
Characters: Lal, Lore
Rating: G
Summary: Basically, Lore musing on why bananas are evil.
Author's Note: One line of dialogue taken from Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market."
Lore hates bananas.
He knows that he cannot taste them in the way that humans do, but that is the least of his complaints. The texture is wrong; the odor off-putting - yes, he can smell that properly - and they arguably have very little practical use except to sit there and look ridiculous, the fodder for phallic jokes employed by human teenagers for centuries.
Unfortunately, Lal adores them.
He has tried to discourage her from eating altogether, as he can only hold so many resources aboard his vessel and food is not a priority. But the few times they are planetside she makes a beeline for the nearest market while he conducts his business, which she would rather not know the details of anyway. And when Lore returns to his ship it is always to find it stuffed full of fruits and greens and, inevitably, bananas. This time is no different.
“We must not look at goblin men/We must not buy their fruits/Who knows upon what soil they fed/Their hungry thirsty roots?” he says and he squeezes through the narrow corridor that leads to the cockpit, made smaller still by the crates of vegetables that now run the length of it before disappearing into the cargo hold.
He dulls his olfactory system as the first wafts of what humans would describe as sickly-sweet reaches him. Lal is lounging in the co-pilot’s seat in the small cockpit, feet propped up on the console and happily peeling her new acquisition. She has come far in recent months - no longer lingering on the edge of imminent cascade failure, she has become more relaxed; more in-control of her emotions; more human than her father could ever hope to achieve. She asks about him still, but Lore is able to satisfy her with vague answers which she accepts because, inexplicably, she trusts him.
He has never been trusted before. It is a curious experience, particularly since it is unwarranted.
“I don’t know how you can stand those,” he adds, leaning over her shoulder to check the instruments. She is a good pilot, but he is better and the ship is finicky.
“They are quite good,” she says cheerfully.
“So you keep saying.” He makes a minute adjustment to their heading. “Was there any trouble?”
She shakes her head and gives a soft, “No,” but he is certain she would have given that answer regardless. It has been months since he allowed her to step foot off the ship, not since the incident on Cardassia. She is not likely to give up her regained freedom even if she was being hassled.
“Lal -”
“Uncle,” she admonishes gently. “I am fine.”
“Yes,” he says absently, placing a hand on her head. “Yes, I suppose you are.”
~~~~