Happy December, everyone! May the last month of your year be filled with love, laughter, sharing, and so much joy that it flows out from you and embraces others.
To help that wish along, I’ve created a special Advent calendar. It’s as non-denominational as it can be, because it doesn’t stop on December 25 – and because it espouses the concept of IDIC – Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
Each day I post a flash fan fiction story. These are freewritings I created while preparing for an upcoming project (Stay tuned for more on that!). They’re rough and imperfect; I’m only going to correct for spelling and grammar. Read one, read some, read them all – suit yourself!
OK, briefing time:
Spoiler zone ahead! Don’t read these posts if you don’t want series spoilers, or even spoilers for other parts of The IDIC Romance, because things will be revealed, and I don’t like spoiling…I’d much rather delight.
The base art for the calendar elements of this post was created by Annalise S. Burton, and is used with permission and compensation.
I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or the franchise that conceived them. These stories are offered as a gift, without expectation for any compensation. Of course, comments, rhapsodizing ramblings, and honest feedback of all kinds are always welcome!
And now, to the calendar…..we lift the tab…and find…Trip and T’Pol discussing – soap bubbles!? Yep. Soap bubbles.
“Seriously? Not even in the shower?”
“I’m generally serious, Trip. I’m uncertain what you mean by ‘playing with bubbles’. Is there a specific procedure to be followed? It’s possible that I have done so, and simply remained unaware of it.
“No, it isn’t. If you’ve played with soap bubbles, you know it. So do other folks, because, whenever you talk about it, you get this silly look on your face -see, like the one I’m wearing now.”
“I often find your expressions -”
“Don’t finish that sentence, pepperpot. I’m asking nice, and we’re actually getting along, and it’s been a helluva day -“
“I can’t argue with that.”
“And here I thought you could argue with anything.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. Human impulse got the better of me – where were we?”
“We were discussing the fact that I have never, apparently, played with soap bubbles.”
“No time like the present to change that. C’mon-”
“Where do you intend we -”
“To my room – “
“If you wish to engage in sexual relations, I’m agreeable. However, I am comfortable here, and you told Lieutenant Reed that we would be engaged in neuropressure.”
“What Malcolm doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“And if I’m required on the Bridge?”
“You’re on medical rest leave till Phlox says otherwise. And I am, too, because there’s no way I’m leaving you alone when I’m the reason you -”
“You are not.”
“Mighty nice of you to say, but I know it’s not true.”
“Trip – do you think I keep a supply of trellium secreted in my room, and told no one, even Doctor Phlox, about it, simply so that I could show it to you and reveal the truth of my addiction?”
“I guess not – damn, pepperpot, wish you could’ve told me sooner. That I could’ve been here for you while you were struggling – ”
“I’m still struggling, Trip.”
“I know you are. And that’s exactly why you need to come to my quarters and let me show you how to play with bubbles.”
Will T’Pol agree with Trip’s ‘logic’?
Will they keep getting along?
Can soap bubbles help a struggling Vulcan?
Will T’Pol actually have fun?
Drop a comment in the box below, and I’ll add a paragraph to the story. If you suggest a prompt, I’ll use it. If you want to know more, I’ll explain a bit of the premise behind the story. You can also watch the Season Three episode “Zero Hour” to learn more.
And, before I go, here’s two more paragraphs from Lorian:
For the first time, he needed to guide the meld – Mother was too weak. He’d suspected for over a decade now that she was hanging on, remaining alive, to see firsthand what would happen when the time loop begun over a century ago closed, and Enterprise was reunited with her alternate. Now he was certain of it.
But, though her body was weak, her will remained strong, and, once they were joined, her meditation flame flickered brightly, though the candles and holders weren’t ones he knew. On the other side of the candle was a man, candlelight flickering in blue eyes and bringing forth highlights in his blonde hair. The slight, dimpled smile and bemused tilt of his head brought a surge of powerful emotion – desire, and terror, and a need to hold to the frayed and ragged edges of her control. She was a shattered Vulcan, and Father was all danger, and all salvation, and the certainty and illogic of that paradox were the sum of her being.