spock: logic is sexy

Drabble festing and WIPs

merisunshine posted lovely new drabble promtps in where_no_woman today. They are all selections from religious texts, though no specific deities are mentioned. I'm sure it will surprise no one that I already posted a story.

Then, instead of getting my other two pseudo-completed stories ready for beta, I started a new story about One at the Academy. It was supposed to be a Pike/One story about realizing that depending on someone does not make you weak, but then I started thinking about how awkward it would be to be a teenager at the Academy. I always imagined that One was pretty young, like fourteen or fifteen at most, when she got into the Academy, and I mostly thought about how academically awesome she would be. But then I remembered how uncomfortable it is to be fourteen, how your body's still changing, you don't totally know who you are, and boys want more from you physically than you are prepared to give. Enduring all of that would be so much worse if you were in a military college where the youngest people were still four years older than you. Now I have about 1500 words of One's dating (or not dating), and I have no idea where this story is going. Right now, she is contemplating how to go about getting issued a larger sports bra without suffering horrible embarrassment, and she wonders if they will measure her for it.

The boys at the Academy were equally unsuitable because they were not boys at all; they were men. On her first day of classes, she got lost on her way to Introduction to Hand-to-Hand Combat, and with her nose buried in a map, she forgot to be terrified of being so close to toned, tanned men four years her senior. Being tardy to class was mortifying, but worse still was the spectacle of a dozen young male cadets whose muscles rippled beneath their tight gym uniforms. Swallowing, she prayed to the her planet's god, begging forgiveness for doubting Her existence and pleading to be partnered with someone amphibious or tentacled. Her wishes were not granted.
Oh, honey.

I want to tell her that it'll get better, but that would be such a huge gigantic lie.

(This makes me want to see Admiral One and Commander Chekov, years down the line, comparing notes about how much it SUCKED to be 14 at the Academy.)
yessss omg.

And both of them come from cultures where you do not leave the table until you've killed the bottle.
Wow, sounds like such a fascinating story! Even just the small snippet gave me vivid throwbacks to my own 14-year-old self. ;-)