Ficlets and cookies! (B2S 1/31/10)
Jan. 31st, 2010 10:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluegeekSo tonight's activities resulted in two ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bridge2sickbay ficlets and a batch of seriously delicious chocolate cookies.
The B2S theme for this week was poetry quotes.
I wasn't familiar with either of the quotes when I read them at the comm, so the fics were inspired by the line(s) alone. I googled the poems after the fact to find out where the lines came from.
Prompt: Gaila, Author's Choice - I dwell with a strangely aching heart ("Ghost House" by Robert Frost)
To Share a Journey
Gaila's pain and sorrow warred with stubbornness and determination. The battle was often well matched, but every day that she got up, every day that she forced herself through this hell of rehabilitation, was a day that determination won. And she had yet to miss a single session.
She'd long since decided not to let anyone but herself decide her fate. This was a realization made long before Starfleet and escape pods and crazed Romulans with god-complexes, and to this she clung.
But it wasn't easy, this constant battle with pain and fatigue and fury that she fought every day. Nor were the dreams that woke her shaking and sad. And that was the hardest of all, the sadness. The other feelings, the harsher ones, added fuel to her stubborn fires, but sadness merely extinguished her internal flame, leaving her empty and cold. Leaving her wondering what she could – no, what she would - do after this.
So she focused on her daily tasks and she pressed herself ever further along her treatment and when she wound up sharing pool time with Admiral Pike and his rehab specialist, she found that she had someone to share in this journey.
He, too, was angry and focused, and his drive to reach each new level drove her own. They became competitors and companions in this pilgrimage, despite never speaking more than a brief greeting at the start of each session before separating to their separate ends of the pool or clinic room.
Until the day that Gaila watched Pike take his first unaided walk across the room, short and shuffling steps not dimming the pride and satisfaction that emanated from him, emotions that she was sure were matched by her own.
He reached the end of the room and allowed himself to collapse, sweaty and openly smiling, on the mat near her, and turned to face her directly. ″Well, Cadet Gaila, I'd say we've both come a long way.″
″Yes, Admiral. I'd say we have.″ And she smiled at him in return.
***
Prompt: Spock, Uhura - I love you because I know no other way / than this: where I does not exist, nor you, / so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,/ so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ("Sonnet 17" by Pablo Neruda)
Warmth
Though Nyota felt as though she were floating, she also felt the tug of another mind anchoring hers to his own. After several long, blissful moments, she felt herself being reeled in, slowly, towards warmth that she only just began to notice.
As reality began to descend once more and sensation separated, returned to two bodies instead of one, she marveled at the feeling. She breathed for one now. Her heart beat for herself only. Her nerves sparked and fizzed with sensations only for herself.
And despite this separation, she felt neither pain nor loss, for though Spock removed his hand from her face, he placed it into her own, palm to palm, fingers linked.
And she felt him – his skin against hers – and she felt him – his mind to her own – and she was warm and safe and happy.
And they slept.
***
So, yes. I feel absurdly proud to have produced anything at all tonight. I've been struggling all week, wanting write and yet not typing a single keystroke. So yes, glad to have anything at all to show for my weekend :)
My cookies are excellent as well :) Far more polished an attempt than the ficlets, by far :) I used a recipe recommended by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wesleysgirl which can be found here only without using the buttercream to make them into sandwiches. I've found that while I adore the cookie part itself, I stink at making buttercream frosting (when I tried the recipe originally it wouldn't stiffen up and was gooey and messy and grainy and just overall terrible). So I left it out and nommed nicely tonight on lovely chocolate coffee cookies. Half the batch is tucked away into the cookie jar and the other half is packed up to take to work for my coworkers to descend upon like a ravening horde.
***
Back tobridge2sickbay for a moment. A couple of my prompts were posted but not filled. I am reposting them here to a) hopefully encourage someone to write them for me *pleading eyes* or, if need be, b) remember them for some undisclosed time in the future to try out myself.
~Pike, Kirk or McCoy, Kirk - Follow me ever - desert me not while I live. (Ashes of Soldiers by Walt Whitman)
~Author's Choice - The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch (On Looking Up By Chance at the Constellations by Robert Frost)
~Spock, Uhura - Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. (Reason & Passion by Khalil Gibran)
~Winona, Pike - I could've died for love - But for livin' I was born (Life is Fine by Langston Hughes)
bridge2sickbay ficlets and a batch of seriously delicious chocolate cookies.The B2S theme for this week was poetry quotes.
I wasn't familiar with either of the quotes when I read them at the comm, so the fics were inspired by the line(s) alone. I googled the poems after the fact to find out where the lines came from.
Prompt: Gaila, Author's Choice - I dwell with a strangely aching heart ("Ghost House" by Robert Frost)
To Share a Journey
Gaila's pain and sorrow warred with stubbornness and determination. The battle was often well matched, but every day that she got up, every day that she forced herself through this hell of rehabilitation, was a day that determination won. And she had yet to miss a single session.
She'd long since decided not to let anyone but herself decide her fate. This was a realization made long before Starfleet and escape pods and crazed Romulans with god-complexes, and to this she clung.
But it wasn't easy, this constant battle with pain and fatigue and fury that she fought every day. Nor were the dreams that woke her shaking and sad. And that was the hardest of all, the sadness. The other feelings, the harsher ones, added fuel to her stubborn fires, but sadness merely extinguished her internal flame, leaving her empty and cold. Leaving her wondering what she could – no, what she would - do after this.
So she focused on her daily tasks and she pressed herself ever further along her treatment and when she wound up sharing pool time with Admiral Pike and his rehab specialist, she found that she had someone to share in this journey.
He, too, was angry and focused, and his drive to reach each new level drove her own. They became competitors and companions in this pilgrimage, despite never speaking more than a brief greeting at the start of each session before separating to their separate ends of the pool or clinic room.
Until the day that Gaila watched Pike take his first unaided walk across the room, short and shuffling steps not dimming the pride and satisfaction that emanated from him, emotions that she was sure were matched by her own.
He reached the end of the room and allowed himself to collapse, sweaty and openly smiling, on the mat near her, and turned to face her directly. ″Well, Cadet Gaila, I'd say we've both come a long way.″
″Yes, Admiral. I'd say we have.″ And she smiled at him in return.
***
Prompt: Spock, Uhura - I love you because I know no other way / than this: where I does not exist, nor you, / so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,/ so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ("Sonnet 17" by Pablo Neruda)
Warmth
Though Nyota felt as though she were floating, she also felt the tug of another mind anchoring hers to his own. After several long, blissful moments, she felt herself being reeled in, slowly, towards warmth that she only just began to notice.
As reality began to descend once more and sensation separated, returned to two bodies instead of one, she marveled at the feeling. She breathed for one now. Her heart beat for herself only. Her nerves sparked and fizzed with sensations only for herself.
And despite this separation, she felt neither pain nor loss, for though Spock removed his hand from her face, he placed it into her own, palm to palm, fingers linked.
And she felt him – his skin against hers – and she felt him – his mind to her own – and she was warm and safe and happy.
And they slept.
***
So, yes. I feel absurdly proud to have produced anything at all tonight. I've been struggling all week, wanting write and yet not typing a single keystroke. So yes, glad to have anything at all to show for my weekend :)
My cookies are excellent as well :) Far more polished an attempt than the ficlets, by far :) I used a recipe recommended by
wesleysgirl which can be found here only without using the buttercream to make them into sandwiches. I've found that while I adore the cookie part itself, I stink at making buttercream frosting (when I tried the recipe originally it wouldn't stiffen up and was gooey and messy and grainy and just overall terrible). So I left it out and nommed nicely tonight on lovely chocolate coffee cookies. Half the batch is tucked away into the cookie jar and the other half is packed up to take to work for my coworkers to descend upon like a ravening horde.***
Back to
bridge2sickbay for a moment. A couple of my prompts were posted but not filled. I am reposting them here to a) hopefully encourage someone to write them for me *pleading eyes* or, if need be, b) remember them for some undisclosed time in the future to try out myself.~Pike, Kirk or McCoy, Kirk - Follow me ever - desert me not while I live. (Ashes of Soldiers by Walt Whitman)
~Author's Choice - The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch (On Looking Up By Chance at the Constellations by Robert Frost)
~Spock, Uhura - Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. (Reason & Passion by Khalil Gibran)
~Winona, Pike - I could've died for love - But for livin' I was born (Life is Fine by Langston Hughes)
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