Discussion in 'Non Star Wars Fan Fiction' started by brodiew, Nov 18, 2014.
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! The Brodie ST groove is back!
Teasing and so Spock-like. Love this
Hello, my friend! It is so good to see you back in the ST groove! And with such an interested crossover, as that - I've not heard of the Bird Box before, but it certainly seems to be a gripping thriller from these little plot points alone. My heart was in my throat reading this drabble set - you didn't shy away from how terrifying a situation like that would be, even for our crew who is used to things going upside down. Yikes - poor Nyota! She's amazingly brave, even through her completely understandable fear, and I was rivetted reading about the scene you set. Really, fantastic use of tension as a plot device. I would LOVE to see more of this vein if you ever have the inspiration strike you!
Then, I love how flirty and sweet and fun the next ficlet is - especially after the heaviness of the last drabble set! Nyota certainly has Spock's number, here - there are times when he has to understand a lot more about human turns of phrase than he lets on. But that's half the fun in bantering. Which our couple also certainly understands. As always, your dialogue and character 'voices' are perfectly spot on! I had such a smile to read this one - wonderful, wonderful work!
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: I know it's been a couple of week...or more, but I'm sop glad you enjoyed Spock and Nyota's jaunt through the arboretum. I wasn't sure that Spock skipping even one step was in character, but I thought he would do it for her.
@earlybird-obi-wan: I so happy you liked this little snippet, earlybird. Thank you for continiuing to come back.
@Mira_Jade: Thank for your kind comments, Mira. Nyota's cliffie needs a follow up for sure. Stay tuned. As for Spock and Nyota. Flirty and sweet is what I was going for. I'm glad it worked so well.
A/N: As for working well, I'm not so Shuri about it. This will be a five ficlet story featuring James 'Bucky' Barnes and Shuri, Princess of Wakanda, sister to T'Challa, King and also Black Panther. If not already apparent, this story take place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It takes place pre 'Infinity War'. This story is prompted by my friend @Mira_Jade. She also provided the prompts I will be using as headings. The first two, below are Bucky pov and the second two will be Shuri pov. My goal is to have the final piece be a longer one shot. I am also hoping to avoid repeating themes in a previous Spock/Nyota reunion. we'll see.
’Bucky’ Barnes had just put his sizable arm through the wall of not no sizable apartment. He would now have to fix the damage which he never should have made in the first place. Sitting on the floor, in a small pile of plaster and sheetrock, he hung his head in shame at the way he had treated Shuri.
They were not a couple, despite the amount of time they had been spending together. Steve had told him to be careful not fall in love with his nurse; though Shuri was much more than a pretty face watching over him as he convalesced. She was that, of course, but more. Much more. Perhaps that was the problem. She was a genius scientist, engineer, and healer. She was the foremost expert on vibranium; its properties and practical applications. She designed and built weapons. She designed and built aircraft. She designed underground mining and processing facilities. Most of all she had mapped his warped mind and reconstructed it. She had restored James Barnes; a man he had almost forgotten existed. And, a princess to boot! How was he supposed to live up to that?
Shuri told him there was no reason to compare himself to her. That hadn’t helped, even though she looked so damn adorable pleading with him to stop. In a moment of abject self-hate he told her he never wanted to see her again; the mere sight of her made him feel even worse about who he was and what he had done. She must have been blindsided; all of her carefully and lovingly crafted work blown to bits. His long brown locks hung in his face as slumped against the wall fighting tears.
James slept fitfully that night, checking his phone for missed messages or texts from Shuri. He wasn’t sure why he expected her to reach out. He supposed it was in her nature. And, on second thought, he knew that as forceful a woman as she was, she could still be hurt. Especially when that pain is inflicted by someone she cared about. He tried to go back to sleep, not knowing if he could, or was still unwilling, to set his self-recrimination, and thus his pride, aside. When he finally woke up, the clock said 1:26 PM. He checked his phone and noticed one missed call. His heart rate ticked up, before seeing it was Sam who had called. He frowned.
Dressing quickly, he decided a ride on his bike might take the edge off and give him some time to think. He thought better in motion. At high speeds. The Wakandan country roads curved, but were not jagged, allowing to stay at speed without having to adjust to turns or switchbacks. As the wind blew in his face, James’ mind drifted to her lithe, toned form. Her excitable personality was so strongly matched to pixie like features that at times he thought he was hanging out with a little girl. But she was no little girl. She was a woman; a woman who captivated him, compelled him. Made him want to be better. Better than the monster he had been made into.
As he rode, he allowed the anger and pride and doubt wash away in the cleansing wind. Shuri deserved better. Better from him. Slowing just enough to spin his bike in a 180 degree turn, he headed back to the palace.
Wonderful use of Pause and Forward James' "I'm not good enough" vibe is coming through very clearly.
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thank you, Nyota! I think you will like this one better.
A/N: I know I'm posting twice in a day, but I will be away tomorrow and wanted to get it out there. I hope you enjoy!
Bucky and Shuri sat lakeside, not far from where is hut stood. It had been a week or two since that discipline of his healing had concluded. It was not the first time healer and patient had sat beside the water and talked of many things. Some deadly serious. Some completely absurd. And, some, in between.
“Of course I have heard of baseball,” Shuri said. “One would have to live a vacuum to have never heard of it.”
Bucky raised his eye brows, slightly, while simultaneously tucking loose brown hairs behind his right ear.
“Holographic shield hiding your magical kingdom?” he teased.
Shuri huffed at his comment. “That does not mean we are ignorant of the outside world. It is the exact opposite, in fact.”
“Is that so, Princess?” he continued. “Please share with me the finer points of America’s favorite pastime. If you dare.”
“I would not want to embarrass you by knowing more than you about your bats and balls.”
Bucky laughed out loud. “Okay, okay. I’ll start the interrogation, then. Does that sound fair?”
“Only if you think so,” Shuri challenged. “It is your pride that will shredded like the Gazelle on the plains.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, smirking all the while. “How many outs are there in a side of an inning?”
“You are insulting me, James,” she fumed. “It the Coyote that is the trickster, not the wolf. Three outs to a side. You must try harder if you mean to best this princess.”
“What is a double play?” he said, plainly.
“Ah, the double play,” she said wistfully, tapping her lips thoughtfully and looking into the near cloudless sky. “One man has to be on base. But the Force had to be in play. I mean, if the ball is hit, he must be forced to run to the next base…”
“Go on,” he urged, looking at her expectantly.
“If the ball is picked up, it must first go to the base the first man is running to and then thrown to the base where the batter is running.”
“That’s a 6-4-3,” Bucky added, attempting to twist things up. “Are there others?”
“6-4-3, 3-2-1, 7-8-9, what does it matter to me? Two outs in one hit of the ball is a double play.”
“True enough,” he agreed with a smile. “Have you heard of Ty Cobb or ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson?”
“What do these people have to with how the game is played,” Shuri shot back. “I already go barefoot and if I wanted to eat corn I would order it for dinner.”
Bucky laughed again. She was so earnest and yet, so clever at the same time. She made him laugh whether she meant to or not. He regarded her and their eyes met. He smiled and she return it.
“You make me laugh!” Bucky said, catching his breath.
“Do I, now, you big ox?” the princess said in mock outrage. “Tell me then about this squeeze play.”
The big man’s countenance returned to thoughtful as began to explain. “The man on third base is going to steal hom-”
Shuri turned to him and wrapper her small, but strong arms around his right arm. He felt her touch and the pressure she was applying. He was as surprised as he was sure she intended him to be.
“-That is what I call and squeeze play, Mr. Wolf,” Shuri teased, standing and taking off into a dead run.
He watched her run until she turned and with a disapproving gaze beckoned him to follow.
James Barnes got to his feet, howled like a wolf, and gave chase.
Nice view into these characters
Too fun and a lighthearted mood.
Gah! I know that I'm stumbling in here late - DRL has been the worst this month - but I can't tell you how much I enjoyed these offerings. I seriously did a fist pump and couldn't stop beaming through every word. These were a wonderful few ficlets! So! Here I am with the official review you so deserve!
Pause & Forward: Ouch! This was completely brutal, but I can see this being Bucky's knee-jerk reaction to realizing his feelings for Shuri. He's been conditioned for too long otherwise not to accept something this wonderful happening to him. Of course he feels unworthy. Shuri is an amazingly talented, smart, beautiful woman - and a princess to boot! He wants the world for her, and doesn't think that's him, no matter that she's made her choice. I also appreciate that, while he had an understandably negative reaction and said some awful things he regrets, he's quick about correcting himself. I'm glad that Bucky realizes that he has to go to her. She's not going to chase him. Now, it's up to him. Go get the girl!
There were some little touches that I absolutely loved here, too: how Bucky admires Shuri's mind as much as he finds her attractive as a woman. How he thinks better in motion, on his bike. That was him ever before he was the Winter Soldier, and it was great seeing him hold onto and chose the best pieces of himself after his recovery.
Rewind: What a fantastic way to answer the prompt! It was great to see the baseball thread continue. Their banter was just so light-hearted and fun, and I could hear both of their voices speaking loud and clear! It brought such a smile to my face to see their teasing deteriorating into an outright chase. Shuri deserves sunlight and laughter; Bucky does too! And it's easy to forget just how young he too was before he was taken by HYDRA. This was such a refreshing moment to capture between them.
And now, I noticed you said that there were five parts you were writing? I can't wait for more!
@earlybird-obi-wan: Thank you for stopping in earlybird. I'm glad you enjoyed the characters. Like the previous Blind Nyota section, this once deserves a follow up. I hope to get to that some time soon.
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: I enjoyed writing that one, Nyoata. Shuri's voice is not as hard as I thought it might be. Thank you for the comment.
@Mira_Jade: Hi Mira! Yes, I finally got around to Shuri/Bucky. It wasn't as hard as I expected. There is certainly room for angst on Bucky's side, but I had a lot of fun writing the baseball section. In retrospect, it could have gone longer. Thank you so much for the thoughtful review!
A/N: Back to Stranger Things! This is a bit angsty related to Will Byers in S3 of Stranger Things. Spoilers! This also in 2nd person. It just came out that way. I hope you enjoy. Trigger Warning: brief suicidal thoughts.
You lay still on the ground outside the razed Castle Byers letting rain pelt your pale skin and already sodden clothes. You sob, quietly. You are truly alone. Even among your family and closest friends, you are alone. No one understands you. No one, other than your mother, knows what you needed. In this moment, you wondered if she even knows.
You can’t move; don’t want to, in truth. The rage was over, but the doubt is just beginning. You close your eyes as a streams of water run through your sockets, trailing out over your nose. Words and pictures filled your mind’s eyes. All of them vying for prominence.
Are you the weakest link in the party?
What did you think we were going to do? Sit in my basement and play Dungeons and Dragons for rest of our lives?
Do your friends still need you as much as you need them? The painful answer is no. You would prefer to sit and play games and talk movies and fight action figures and fly spaceships forever, if you could. That is where you are at rest. That is when you are content. That, with your friends, is peace.
Are they moving on while you are standing still? Why are you standing still? You dealt with your fear, didn’t you? Fear of monsters?
This isn’t about Monsters, though, is it? This is about growing up. It’s about girlfriends and kissing and breaking up and getting back together. Stuff you have no concept of because you’re still a kid. And, why not? Hasn’t your childhood been stolen? Don’t you deserve more time with Mike, Dustin, and Lucas without the distraction of girls?
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
What does Mike know about whether you like girls or boys or neither? Just because all your friends have a girl, or claim to, and you don’t, doesn’t mean anything. Just because you are the shyest of the Party, and the most socially awkward, doesn’t mean you’re gay. Did Mike even mean to infer that you were gay? He’s your best friend. He knows you pretty good. But he didn’t come running to apologize. He was frustrated! He was mad. He was thinking about Max and El and drama, drama, drama. But so were you! Angry, that is. They didn’t see your pain. They only saw their own inconvenience.
On the other hand, what right do you have to put them into a mold that no longer fits? It fits you fine, but they are now too big. What the hell does all of this mean? Will you have to let them go? Do they want to? Will they pull you along with them, into a mold for which you are too small? If they cannot be with you and you cannot be with them, what does that leave? Isolation. Loneliness. A prospect that is simply unbearable.
You’ve been here before, Will. Facing the abyss. Ready to jump. Ready to end the pain or the inevitability of future pain. What are you going to do? Are you going to fight or fold? Persevere or pack it in. Why are you thinking about death? Do you really think that there is nothing to live for? No one who loves you?
Back to the Monster, eh? That twinge in your neck. The unending feeling of violation coupled with the relentlessness of being the victim. You weren’t the hero, were you? They saved you. Twice. You sense it happening again. You’re wondering if The Flayer is coming for you. Will they have to save you, again? You don’t know. Do you? Shouldn’t you find out? If it’s not you, it will be someone else? Do you want someone else to suffer like you have? Is there a chance you could be the hero? I can tell you don’t think so. But, guess what? This isn’t just about you. This is about saving the world. Right? At the very least it’s about saving Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and EL. Your Mom, Dude! And, the Chief. You sounded a little like Dustin just then and a small smile creased your cold, wet lips. You now realize that the heat of your anger has passed and lying on the ground in the rainy woods is not only freaking stupid, but stupid cold.
You push yourself up and stretch by raising your arms in the air. Your body feels like you have been sleeping for a long time. But it has only been a few minutes. It’s time to go home. To face the music of whatever the Flayer has planned. To see your friends, despite the fact that things are changing. Does that change have to be bad? Are you willing to step out of your shell, if even a little bit? Only you can say.
Yep this was equally as intense and heartbreaking a scene through your introspection as it was on screen - this is as far as I've seen of season three, coincidentally - and the second person POV really made it all the more heavy hitting. Will is going through so much - and has been through so much for so long now! Of course he's trying to still hold onto his childhood after experiencing such truama. But the Flayer isn't done with him yet, and there are the normal changes of growing up just beyond that. Will has the courage and fortitude to see through them both, I know. He just has to reach out and grasp that for himself.
@Mira_Jade: Thank you for the wonderful comment, Mira. It is definitely a tough time for Will, but he will persevere.
Will Byers sat on the sidewalk at the corner of Main Street and Continental. It used to be the center of downtown Hawkins; bustling with activity. Now, it was a ghost town. There were no cars on the street, no people in the buildings, and almost no noise in the air at all. He had seen birds recently, but he did not hear them. It was if their ability to sing or squawk had been permanently stolen.
The sky was an ever darkening red, bleeding into the blue of a clear sunny day. It was no longer strange to see the sky two different colors. He had gotten used to the fact the red would grow and, ultimately, it would be black as night all the time.
City Hall, kitty corner from him, had a sickly black vine which had snaked its way up the Northern wall. It was the only such vine Will could see. It was ominous enough and just another sign that his world was going to Hell. Literally.
The Flakes were growing in number as well. They blew on the wind, which seemed weaker every day. They looked like cottonwood, but were nothing of the sort. He really didn't know what they were. But they weren't good. They were still few and far between, but he recognized them from before. As if all the other signs, including the armies of demogorgons and demodogs scouring what he supposed was the whole Earth, were not enough.
He was to meet El and Mike at 12:30. There was really no need to keep time anymore. There was no one left to care. But when it came to meeting someone at certain place, time was still part of the equation. He looked at his watch, which he was thankful still worked. 12:26.
The twinge in the back of Will's neck was constant. The Flayer was here. For Good. Will could feel him all the time. Awake or Asleep. It was his cross to bear, being both a blessing and a curse. The curse was obvious; living through the conversion of your Earth into another Upside Down. The Blessing, on the other hand, was that he was as much in the monster's mind as it was in his. He could track the beast and that gave his small band of rebels a fighting chance.
Another element of their resistance was that El's strength had grown and her ability to freeze out The Flayer’s ability to possess them could be made permanent. What she could not permanently keep at bay was the previously mentioned Demogorgon army. This meant that the remaining members of The Party; He, Mike, El, Steve, and Max were the same as those teens taking on the invading Russian Army in Red Dawn. It seemed silly to think of a movie when reality was so desperate. He kept hope, however small, that they would find a way to defeat the Flayer, or, an even more remote possibility, break into another dimension.
As Steve entered the Starcourt parking lot he saw Nancy standing in from of the Byer’s wagon pointing a gun at very recognizable Camero. He knew that Billy had been possessed by the Mind Flayer and that he would not hesitate to kill. The Camero threw smoke from its tires as it shot toward Nancy.
Steve’s stomach jumped into his throat. Though he and Nancy were ancient history, he could not stand the thought of her in immediate danger. He jammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car leaped forward.
He saw the flashes from the muzzle of Nancy’s gun, but they had no effect on the accelerating Camero. He had to ram Billy’s car if he was going to save her. What seemed like an eternity was a only a few more seconds before Steve t–boned Billy and pushed his vehicle away from Nancy.
Dazed from the collision, he looked to Robin in the passenger seat. She was unconscious but seemed ok. Reflexively, he opened the door and fell from the car. Looking toward where Nancy was standing, he noticed she was gone. Blinking to clear his vision, he saw a still blurry Jonathan leaning over the engine if their car.
With effort, he tried to get to his feet. Suddenly, a hand was around his throat and he was being lifted to his feet and higher. Coughing and gasping for breath, Steve stared down in the hate-filled eyes of Bill Hargrove. He struggle to free himself from the other man’s grip. He kicked and tried to punch Billy in the head. One of his blows landed hard on the Billy’s temple.
The Mind Flayer dropped the gagging Steve and stepped back a pace. Recovering quickly, he stepped forward and placed a boot into Steve’s gut, pushing him over on his back. The Flayer stepped forward and raised his boot to stomp on Steve’s head.
Sucking wind and beaten six ways from Sunday, Steve Harrington figured it was time to go. He had save Nancy and Jonathan and, maybe, Will and Lucas. He wasn’t sure. That was all he had left. His already black eye opened enough to see the boot coming down on his face. He closed his eyes tight and tried to curl into a fetal position.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The boot never landed. Steve opened his eyes long enough to see bad ass Nancy Wheeler holding a smoking gun and smiling with grim satisfaction before he passed out.
A/N: A little Max Mayfild for your reading pleasure. Topped off with a dash of Lumax a.k.a Lucas/Max. It could be AU, but who's to say.
It was 1991 and Max Mayfield had not left Hawkins since her graduation in 1989. She worked at the local bike shop through most of high school and even had an opportunity to become a partner in the store before Neal killed the opportunity by being unwilling to help. That had been the last straw for her mom who left him, and Hawkins, in the fall of 1990. Her mother had not left Max. The redhead had opted to stay, her Family now more than a mother whom would have to rebuild for a third time.
After the bike shop, Max made the leap to motorcycle repair and took a job at Nick’s Motorsports. She had thrived there and was now one of Nick’s top mechanics. When she was hired, she had told her boss that she had a vacation planned in the fall. He hired her with the vacation intact, which gave Max her the first good feeling about the job.
October had arrived and it time to go. Throwing her bag in the trunk, ‘hunting equipment’ included, she stepped into her Forest Green 1967 Ford Mustang and blasted out of the parking lot of her apartment building. Lucas was waiting for her eleven hours away at Hampton University. Her man was going into the Army and was going to be an officer. It was his second year of ROTC and she could not wait to see him in his uniform.
Max was thankful when El called her the night before and let her know that there was a target in Charleston, WV, about halfway to Hampton. She grinned at the prospect of a little fun to break up the monotony of the road.
Max’s Thomas Guide sat open in the passenger seat next to her bulky satellite phone and the remnants of a Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich. As she entered Charleston, it was early evening and the riverside State Capitol complex was definitely as impressive as she had read about. As for the target, El mentioned that it was located in a rural area not far outside of town.
She pulled off the road three miles downriver after seeing the mile marker El had mentioned. The embankment was not very steep, but the grass was tall enough to potentially camouflage a full grown Demogorgan at Dusk. Popping the trunk, Max retrieved her shotgun and tool belt, which included two grenades, a hatchet, a small can of hairspray, a propane torch, and a flashlight. Steve’s bat rested in back of the trunk space, secured by measurement but able to be extracted if necessary. She did not use it anymore, but kept it as a reminder and an inspiration; a reminder of the first Demogorgon skirmish and an inspiration for eradicating them from the face of the earth. Racking a shell into the chamber of her shotgun, Max closed the trunk and proceeded down the embankment in search of her next kill.
The shriek of the monster pierced Max’s ears causing her to pause long enough for the creature, rising out of the water below her, to hit her with a wild left claw. She fell backward, landing with a wet smack. The gun fell from hands as did the flashlight. Suddenly, towering over her with a toothy, vibrating, open face, the creature swiped at her again, this time with its right claw. She rolled to the left, over her shotgun, barely avoiding the monster's sharp talons. Grabbing the shotgun and she continued to roll she sat up and fired. The blast hit the Demogorgon square in the chest, knocking it backward into the water.
Max stood up and stepped into the water, which was more even ground than the embankment. The Monster got back to its feet now screeching at a higher, pained, pitch. It was all she could do not to cover her ears. Bring the shotgun to bear again, she fired at the creature’s head. She saw the head jerk and the monster fell still. Racking another shell into the chamber, she stood over it floating form and fired again.
Max’s breath was coming hard and fast from the exertion, but the edge of her mouth quirked up in satisfaction. Another one bites the dust. Now, the hard part: getting the body into the woods on the other side of the highway. It would be a chore, but the burning and burial was its own reward.
As good as new
Within a couple of hours, the job was done and Max was ready to get back on the road. First, she would need to change her clothes . Checking herself for any injury that might have been missed, Max looked a mess. She wondered what Lucas would think if she appeared at Hampton with mud soaked pants and shirt, mud spattered hair and face, and a streak of Demogoron blood across her chest. Publically, it would embarrass him, given the rigid military discipline of the place. But, privately, he would be so turned on a cold shower would be necessary to turn him off. If she wanted to turn him off, that is.
Max pulled her duffel from the trunk and extracted a change of clothes. She stripped on the side of the road, using the Mustang as the best shield she could. Soon, she was good as new, minus a little mud in her hair. She would leave it there for Lucas to find and ask about.
Lucas met her in uniform because he knew that was what she wanted. He was not required to wear it all times. Hampton was not a military academy. She had jumped into his arms as soon as she was close enough and kissed him with such intensity that they almost went to the ground. She commented on the smartness of his dress and whispered unmentionable acts into his ear. He discovered the mud in her luscious red strands and she explained that the target was dispatched with minimal effort. When it came to hunting, Max used the term minimal effort for every encounter, no matter how close she came to death. This made Lucas worry. However, he knew she could take care of herself, and that on most hunts, she had partner. Usually, himself, when available, or Dustin.
When they reached his dorm room door, he stopped and took her into his arms, kissing her gently, but passionately.
“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered, their lips having only just separated.
“Oh, really?” she answered, breathlessly, as she untucked his and ran her hand over his chest and abdomen. “What is that, Soldier Boy?”
He opened the door and back into the room, he noticed her looked over his shoulder.
Max saw a shimmering coming from Lucas’ room and when he opened the door. The room was like any dorm room, with two beds and two desks on either side, but Lucas had strategically placed candles throughout the room, high and low. Safely, of course, and not too many. But enough to create an uber-romantic vibe that she was absolutely digging.
“Nice job, Stalker,” she said, turning back to him and pinning him with a triple threat of love, lust, and a virtual lifetime of partnership. “My mood has definitely been enhanced by the lighting. But I think shower is in order before anything else. Can that be arranged?”
“Only with my close supervision,” he replied, slyly.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Riveting with Wait and Go, very intense and eerie scene in Wait particularly. Liked reading more of Max's doings especially with Lucas.
Oh I really liked this glimpse of the future for Max and Lucas. I can totally see it all - from Max the mechanic and hunter to Lucas joining the military. After a past like that, it only makes sense that they want to protect and defend, each in their way.
But I loved their reunion most at the end of this set. Just beautiful!
Wonderful work, brodie! I'm glad to see that your ST muse still going strong.
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thank for the comment on Wait, Nyota. I enjoyed writing that one. eerie is right! I'm also glad you enjoyed the Max ficlets and Lucas in particular.
@Mira_Jade: But wait! there's more! thank you for the review, Mira. Having Max be a hunter sounds perfectly in character, especially if the Mind Flayer shenanigans continue into their adulthood. I picture her as taking Steve's mantle so to speak, if not literally. LuMax is going strong even if they are separated by 3-4 states. I'm glad you enjoyed the reunion.
Monday Mush Mania
Loving Spoonfuls (Drabbles, Right?)
The first time they played hide and seek it ended with an ice pack on Mike’s shoulder and a nosebleed for El. He explained the rules and she was excited to be the seeker. He told her he would hide somewhere in the cabin, which was small, and she would have to find him. No void visits allowed!
Hiding behind the couch, Mike thought he would be discovered easily. When she finally came near, he jumped up to surprise her. El, shocked by the sudden movement, thrust her hands out pushed Mike over the coffee table and into the TV.
The first present Mike gave El was a Green Lantern ring that he fashioned out of lantern included with an action figure. It looked nothing like Hal Jordan’s ring. So be it. He wanted to give her a ring and there it was. He could tell she was unsure when he gave it to her, wondering what it was and what it meant. After he smiled and nodded, she put it on her finger. It was ugly, bulky, and green. It looked terrible. But he didn’t care. Neither did El as she twisted her hand back and forth admiring it.
The trail from the cabin into the woods was now well worn as Mike had come to call more often in months after El closed the gate. They would walk among the trees and enjoy nature and each other. She would hug his arm and peer up at him from underneath her wool hat. She would smile and his heart would melt at the same time he would renewed his vow to protect her with his life.
“What are you thinking?” she would ask.
“That I love you beyond what any words could say,” he would respond, kissing her softly.
It was the day before Dustin’s birthday and El was determined to make him cookies. She called Mike and he came out to cabin to help. Watching her crack eggs with such precision and mix the ingredients with acute determination surprised Mike and a swell of pride stung his eyes with unshed tears.
El looked up and stopped stirring at the site of Mike’s glistening eyes.
“What’s wrong, Mike?”
“It’s not stupid. What is it?”
“You amaze me. Even making cookies, you amaze me.”
El grinned bashfully and took a pinch of flour and flicked it at him.
“I want to writer her a poem,” Mike said to Dustin, Lucas, and Will at their Party meeting. “Something cool. Like Shakespeare.”
“Like Shakespeare?” Lucas said, wincing in warning.
“Forget The Bard,” Dustin added. “Go Tolkien. All the way. Shall I compare thee to an Elven Queen?”
“That is Shakespeare,” Mike said. “Kind of. But she’s not an elf?”
“You could do worse than comparing her to Galadriel?” Will said.
“She won’t get it, though?” Mike protested. “I have to keep it simple.”
“Okay, then,” Dustin started. “How about a summer day?”
Dustin was suddenly bombarded with crumpled paper balls.
Got a chuckle out of Surprise. Touched by Present, because even if the ring is clunky and loud-looking, it's still something they prize. Together is so sweet!!! Occasion -- aww, he's totally smitten. Because loved the banter about poetry. I know if I was compared to Galadriel it would make my DECADE!
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thank you being a regular encouragement, Nyota. I was sure you would like that last one. It was fun to write the banter. These are the 'lovin' spoonfuls'. Right up your alley. I hope you continue to enjoy them.
The warmth of the fire brought that stinging, tingly feeling to El’s fingers. The mittens she had been wearing outside were not enough to protect her from the cold of the snow and ice. At the time, she had not minded much given the she and Mike had been engaged in an epic snowball fight.
“It’s more fun with more people,” Mike said, warming his hands as well.
El shrugged. “Maybe. This was fun with just us. Like Dad and me.”
She leaned on his shoulder and he hugged her from the side as they stared, peacefully, into the flames.
It was not the first time El drank a carbonated soda. Poppa had made her crush the cans back in the lab. However, it was the first time she had Ginger Ale. As she popped the top of the can and brought it her lips, the fizzy jumped into her nose. Setting the can down, she let loose a monstrous sneeze. When she was done, she looked at Mike, who was trying not to laugh.
“Very funny,” she said, shooting him a disapproving look.
“Now, you should have a drink,” Mike said. “It’s really good.”
“You take a drink first.”
Once upon a time, there lived a girl in a log cabin that did not know much of the world. She had seen some of its darkest aspects as a child, but her new home with a local constable had shown her what love truly is. But, it was the handsome young prince, the one whom had rescued her from the dungeon, who had her attention. When he placed his cloak over a puddle, she thought it was sweet rewarding him with a stunning smile.
He offered his hand to lead hear through the rough patch.
In the aftermath of a Party meeting, El watched as Max and Lucas huddled together at the end of the couch and touched each other’s noses, tickled each other, and spoke words and sounds she didn’t recognize. In the midst of it, they pecked one another with kisses and hugged a lot.
“What are they doing?” El asked, turning to Mike who sat next to her at the table.
Mike rolled his eyes. “Being Lovey-dovey, I guess.”
“Lovey-dovey?” El questioned.
“Yeah, cutesy-pie?” Mike said. “Like silly in love.”
El arched an eyebrow and wrinkled her nose. “They are not cute.”
The day after El closed the gate, she slept; stirring only to use the bathroom and back to bed. It was 9:30 PM when she emerged from Hopper’s room. He had placed her there and went to sleep on the couch. He was watching TV when she came out. She was wrapped in a blanket with mascara smudges around her eyes and her bed head giving her natural curls an advantage over the product she used to slick it back. She said nothing, but planted herself next to him, snuggling up close. Soon, he heard her heavy breathing. Asleep again.
Delightful set. Cute and Snuggle were especially touching.
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thank you, Nyota! Cute was one of my favorites as well. El is not amused such a high level of PDA,.
A/N: The last two are more angst than mush, but I'm still happy with them. They should be read 5-4. The last two are related to the events of Star Trek (2009).
“What do you think of this dress?” Nyota asked, turning in a circle to show off the form fitting garment.
“It is serviceable,” Spock said, his eyes on the PAAD in his hand.
“Serviceable?” Nyota said, appalled by his lack of imagination. “You didn’t even look up, Commander?”
Taking the PAAD from his hand, she threw it on the bed where he was seated. “Care to try again?”
Spock appraised her; the dress was tight, and revealed her chocolate brown skin in a V from just above her navel spreading out to her shoulders.
“Perhaps, exquisite would be more accurate.”
Ensign Branch is giving a stand-up comedy act this evening on the observation deck,” Nyota said, serenely. “I want you to come with me.”
Spock tilted his head, no movement on his stolid face. “Curious.”
“You could have just no,” she replied. “Now I have to know what has you all up in arms.”
“Hardly ‘up in arms’, Nyota. However, your motive is suspect.”
Nyota tried to hide a smile while cinching her eyebrows and pouting her lips in protest.
“Are you suggesting I want you to laugh?” Nyota said.
“It could not be more obvious,” he replied. “However, futile.”
Spock did not ruminate on such things, but seeing the flash of joyous challenge on Nyota’s face as she left for the ‘comedy act’, reminded Spock of the moment their relationship changed. When it went from student and instructor to lovers. The burgeoning emotions beating in his heart and head and hands battling his structured and controlled mind.
Their eyes had met as they reviewed a PAAD. She set the device down. His trembling hand touched her waist. Instantly, she covered it with her own, pressing it into her flesh.
Her hands shook as well as she touched his cheek.
Grief. Pain. Abandon. Debasement. They were all concepts that had no place is the mental construct of pure logic. They were emotions. Actions born out of emotion. A betrayal of his ideal self.
I loved her.
Spock wondered how his father had rationalized his feelings for his mother. He knew well. But this admission must have a purpose and one that Spock was simply too compromised to understand.
I loved her.
Is it possible that his father was telling him that Nyota…sweet Nyota…could help him through this? That it was permitted to love and be loved in spite of logic?
I married her because I loved her.
Spock was not in control. His mother was dead. His planet gone. His firm control on all emotion was slipping with each moment that passed. His father had confessed love for his mother. Love: A fallacy of logic, but an emotion also battering his cracking walls of reserve. His father’s admission should be a comfort. But, it the roiling nebula of his consciousness, it did not make sense. If he did not love his mother, then why were the constructs failing. The same could be said of Vulcan. Did he love his home?
This cracked me up!
“It is serviceable,” Spock said, his eyes on the PAAD in his hand.
“Serviceable?” Nyota said, appalled by his lack of imagination. “You didn’t even look up, Commander?”
Taking the PAAD from his hand, she threw it on the bed where he was seated. “Care to try again?”
Oh yes the adjective he comes up with certainly applies! Exquisite!
Baffled & Cautious
Sweet bit of teasing and a transparent motive.
Beautiful the way you write of their transition into something more.
Gorgeously in character, particularly:
Is it possible that his father was telling him that Nyota…sweet Nyota…could help him through this? That it was permitted to love and be loved in spite of logic?
Delicious and the answer is yes!
A tumult, indeed, superbly described!
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: I am so glad this set hit home for you, Nyota. The first couple were meant to match the fluff, but the last two took on a life of their owner. Sarek's confession of love was an ultimate comfort to Spock, but I can imagine it being confusing in the moment. As for 'attentive', .
Mike was ecstatic over his new Nintendo Entertainment System. It was top of the line, released only a few months ago. The game, Legend of Zelda, was the hottest game out there. As a result, Mike devoted the entire Party meeting to playing the game. Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will were mesmerized by the graphics and music, but it was the adventure gameplay, in a Fantasy world, that blew their minds. Link was the man; he had to save the princess. Mike looked at El who watched the screen with mild amusement. His princess.
“What is it?” she asked.
Mike and El lay on her bed. They had been kissing, but stopped. Mostly because El did not want to stress Hopper any more than necessary. Mike was frustrated, a normal, but tolerable situation when it came to intimacy with El. His hands were behind his head and her head rested on his chest. He heard her heavy breathing and realized she must have dozed off.
Mike’s attention was suddenly drawn to groaning floorboards outside the door. The door swung open slowly revealing Hopper with his hands in his pockets.
“Okay, Mike?” Hopper asked, impassively.
Mike nodded, respectfully. “Okay, Chief.”
“This is dumb,” Lucas protested as he Mike and Dustin tried to learn The Three Amigos synchronized dance from the movie. “We’re not eight years old anymore.”
“You’re just mad because you can’t get it right?” Dustin jibed. “It was a good idea when we started.”
“No it wasn’t,” Lucas shot back. “But I went along with it anyway.”
“If we could do it just once,” Mike ventured.
“Come on, Mike,” Lucas pleaded. “No.”
“What do you think, Max?” Dustin asked the redhead, watching form the couch.
“You guys look ridiculous,” Max said. “But keep going. It’s funny as hell.”
Sometimes El felt like the she would never be safe; that normalcy was not her lot in life. Even as she sat with Party at lunch during a routine school day, some part of her waited for the inevitable attack. Today was worse than most, her anxiety level was up. She could feel it. Was it the Flayer or was it was the monumental task of being in public? Taking part in the mundane was sometimes harder than fighting monsters. She grasped Mike’s hand at her left and Max’s at her right. It would be ok. She knew it would.
El sat at the table in the small kitchen space at the apartment in Indianapolis. It wasn’t home, but she was getting used to. The pen in her hand was light as was her mood. She wanted to write Mike another letter. This time, without Joyce’s help. She wanted to tell Mike more about what was happening here. They talked on the phone every day, but letters were different. She believed there was more power in writing it down. Suddenly, her mood changed and the thought of Mike brought the dull pit in her stomach.
I miss you…
Watch -- great everyday moment full of just plain fun as is Learn
Listen is all kinds of sweet for the Mike/El-ness as well as Hopper keeping an 'ear' out
Feel -- wow. It's sad when the ordinary feels off after so much grand adventuring.
Believe is heart-tugging. El and Mike feel connected through phone calls and letters, but there's still a divide; they cannot just spontaneously socialize since they're not 'around the corner' from each other.
@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: I'm so glad you enjoyed these, Nyota! Listen and Feel were may favorites. I could see the Listen scene playing out as movie in my brain. This time, Mike knew better than to mouth off to Hopper. With Feel I can totally see her having challenges integrating socially not to mention telekinesis and trauma. A heavy burden to bare.
A/N: Now, Nyota, this set of prompts asked for it. I believe I these are TOS, but somebody better let me know quick if they are not.
The first time Mike saw El in a bathing suit, he had to remind himself to breathe. She would not wear a bikini, which he understood entirely, but it didn’t matter. She was absolutely beautiful. The one piece hugged her hips and her breasts and invited him to look where he should not be caught looking.
Her skin had finally met the sun and a light tan accentuated her brown curls and caramel brown eyes. He had seen her, in a robe, after a shower. Hair wet. Now, he envisioned El as Phoebe Cates in ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’.
El lay on her side reading an X-Men comic that had Cyclops firing his plasma beam Storm. El wondered what that was about given that they were supposed to be friends. Mike sat next to her, on the bed, reading Avengers. Five pages later, El felt a finger on her hip and felt it trace a feathery line down her thigh. She didn’t flinch, or move at all, soaking up the tingling sensation that spread through her body. The finger traced the interior of her pelvic bone before looping back out to her hip. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips.
Mike held the ice cube in his hand. Water dripped between his fingers as he silently approached El at the dinner table. She had come over to hang out and play games. However, at the moment, she was sitting with her back to him eating a grilled cheese sandwich. Two more steps and he was he was home free. Still a step outside of her periphery, Mike raised the ice cube and lifted the collar of her shirt enough to drop it inside. Her gasp was music to his ears as her shoulders hunched and she shot from the chair.
His hands were in her hair as her hands moved gingerly on his neck, collar, and cheeks. Their lips were mashed together and the movement of their tongues was a passionate frenzy. Every few moments, they separated, panting in their frenetic awkwardness. Only to start again, punishing their lips in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Mike’s hands dropped below El’s collar and landed on her breasts. He felt her inhale at his touch and moan into his mouth.
“Mike, no…” she breathed, removing his hands. “I am not ready and this is not the place.”
Mike growled in concession.
When he was twelve, Mike wasn’t thinking about girls. When he met El, he still wasn’t thinking about her in that way. It had taken two years; one with her absent from his life and the other with limited contact for such visions to cloud his mind. By the time he was fourteen, he was a raging hormonal teenager with full access to the object of his affections. Absence had made the heart grow fonder and larger. Mike was now more like Lurch, but El was ‘filling out’ nicely. He blew out a long breath as she entered the room.
Steamed up the screen Yum!