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sshbpodcast · 3 months

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Character Spotlight: Worf

By Ames

It’s an honorable week here on A Star to Steer Her By because we’re shining our character spotlight on the show’s first Klingon main character, Worf, Son of Mogh! He’s also the first specifically main cast member to span two different series (sorry, O’Brien), so we’ve got glimpses from both The Next Generation and its films and also Deep Space Nine to cover. Worf might get the most time of any character to truly develop, growing from the guy who gets thrown across the room by the baddie of the week into the complex warrior who, for just a moment, wears the robes of the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. Go Worf!

So put on your baldric, grab your bat’leth, and top off your mug of bloodwine as we give Worf all the honor he deserves (which every so often, isn’t very much, but other times is a lot!). Read on for the commendable battles below and listen to our death yells over on this week’s podcast (fight your way to 55:39). Today is a good day to die.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Bloodwine is red / Andorians are blue… While we gave Dr. Pulaski lots of props for whipping up an antidote so she could participate in Worf’s version of a tea party, it’s also just lovely that Worf honors her by performing the ceremony in the first place in “Up the Long Ladder.” Deep down under the head ridges and scowl, Worf is just a poetry-reading, tea-sipping teddy bear and we love it.

Klingon paper dolls Star Trek characters jump at any opportunity to play dress up, and we get a good instance of that in “The Emissary” when Worf and K’Ehleyr put on their warrior garb to trick a crew of Klingons in cryostasis into thinking they represent the Klingon Empire. As always, this episode gets some extra points for featuring K’Ehleyr, and it turns out Worf’s pretty good at improvisation too.

We have bonded and our families are stronger While we’re certainly going to give Worf some shit for how badly he parents his biological son, his connection with Jeremy Aster in “The Bonding” is actually quite beautiful for the both of them. Each an orphan, they are able to form a familial-type relationship together, and it’s really touching when Worf invites Jeremy to join him in the R'uustai that will bond them as brothers.

He has claimed the right of vengeance A trend emerged in our Best Worf Moments when they tended to fall into the “killing the fuck out of some jerk who deserves it” category, and the first to really deserve it is Duras in “Reunion.” Duras has been begging to get murdered since we first heard his contemptible name, but when he killed Worf’s mate in cold blood, Worf knew exactly what he had to do with his bat'leth.

You may now give birth Despite the fact that it resulted in adding a baby to the cast (blech), we have to give some credit to Worf for delivering the O’Brien baby in “Disaster” in a way that only he could. We’d need a whole additional blogpost for all the great Worf one-liners throughout the two series, as Michael Dorn’s delivery is always gold, but “Push, Keiko, push” has got to be pretty high up there.

Doesn’t gik’tal mean to the death? Worf sees so much potential in Sito Jaxa in “Lower Decks” and spends most of the episode arguing on her behalf for a promotion. So when we see Worf testing her with the made-up gik’tal martial arts to teach her to stick up for herself, we can’t help but see in her just what Worf sees. Ya know, until Picard totally gets her killed.

Assimilate this! Sure, it’s a soundbite-y line designed to be marketable in the trailer, but when Worf survives getting his EV suit punctured by tying it off with some Borg bits and then blows up the interplexing beacon in First Contact, it just feels right. Maybe it’s that Michael Dorn can get away with cheesy lines like “Assimilate this!” or maybe we just love watching Borg explode.

If you were any other man, I would kill you where you stand While the movies are mostly showcases for Picard and Data, First Contact gives some great moments to the other castmembers. Worf’s standoff with Picard is nothing short of chilling. Borg are overrunning the ship and Picard orders Worf and his security team to what is almost certain to be their deaths. Lucky for us, Worf doesn’t actually mutiny, just threatens to a little bit.

And in this corner… While we spent most of The Next Generation watching Worf getting knocked around as shorthand for “the alien threat is strong,” by Deep Space Nine, we don’t really get that anymore and instead he actually gets to kick some ass! In “By Inferno's Light,” Worf is forced to battle Jem’Hadar after Jem’Hadar in the fighting ring, and he refuses to quit even when he has every right to.

Help me fight again, Worf You’ll see in a second that sometimes when Worf tries to help another Klingon die with honor, things can get complicated, but when Kor asks for help going out in the warrior fashion, Worf is totally a good guy about it. He gets the old legend a place on Martok’s ship in “Once More Unto the Breach” even though it’s not Martok’s favorite thing, but in the end, Sto’Vo’kor gains a new warrior.

Seven down, one to go We still have more “killing the fuck out of some jerk who deserves it” mentions to bring up! What list would be complete without the murder of at least one Weyoun on it? In this case, Worf straight up snaps the neck of Weyoun 7 in “Strange Bedfellows” when he has the opportunity and it is a thing of such beauty that it gains Damar’s respect.

What I have done was for the Empire Finally, our last jerk who needed to get killed the fuck out of is that bastard Gowron in “Tacking into the Wind.” Gowron was going around making terrible decisions, rewriting the history books, and trying to get Martok killed in various ways, and Worf finally has enough and kills him in honorable combat. He gets the cloak of the Chancellor for it but selflessly passes it to Martok, like an absolute boss.

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Worst moments

I would rather die than pollute my body with Klingon filth While Geordi is putting racism aside to be able to coexist with his new BFF Bochra in “The Enemy,” Worf takes the opposite path. By refusing to let Crusher give his blood to Patahk, Worf condemns the injured Romulan to death just because of his race. And then the show takes some of the guilt off Worf by having Patahk refuse treatment anyway, leaving Worf’s hands clean, I guess.

This is not unlike a drumhead trial Worf is also quick to fall in line with Admiral Satie’s Red Scare of a trial against crewman Tarses in “The Drumhead.” He gets so infatuated with dispensing justice that he jumps past “innocent until proven guilty” and determines that Tarses is guilty of treason because he’d lied about his alien heritage, when the two things aren’t even related.

Would you further dishonor our family with your disobedience? It’s a running joke in the Star Trek community that Worf is a terrible father and… well, he is. To his defense, he did have Alexander sprung on him when K’Ehleyr died in “Reunion,” and he did try to pawn the little brat off on the Rozhenkos, but that was a terrible move too. So when we watch how clueless he is trying to parent in “New Ground,” we cringe hard at how Worf just doesn’t get it.

Donkey Kong: 1. Worf: 0. A lot of Worf’s decisions about how to deal with his paraplegia in “Ethics” are complicated and problematic, but the way he ended up in such a state is what we’re really here to roast him on. My dude got bitched by a big blue plastic barrel in the cargo bay, and that is downright dishonorable for a Klingon warrior. Battle, sure. Explosion, fine. Spat with Spot, of course. But not blue barrel!

How could your mother mate with a Romulan? Worf’s prejudice against Romulans comes out again in “Birthright” when he learns that Ba’el is half Romulan and he starts spouting racist accusations at her when he’s already seen what kind of a person she is, and even what kind of person her father is. Since his father’s death at Khitomer, it’s a long road for Worf to accept that all Romulans are not that same, and it’s unclear if he ever gets there.

Tell him he is a pretty cat and a good cat All your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By are ride-or-die cat people, so when Worf refuses to tell Spot he’s a good cat and a pretty cat in “Phantasms” when Data asks him to look after the feline, we take it super personally. Frankly, Data should have looked elsewhere for someone to catsit because what’s supposed to be a humorous moment in the show just makes us angry at Worf. Hiss!

I believe the Ferengi bartender is plotting something By the time Worf joins Deep Space Nine, his racism against Romulans doesn’t come up, but his racism against the Ferengi sure does. Ever since “Hippocratic Oath,” Worf refuses to call Quark by name, instead calling him “The Ferengi bartender.” We joke sometimes on the podcast that the only race it’s okay to be racist against is the Ferengi, but you know what? It’s really not okay.

My life is in your hands Sure, we can argue that Kurn coming to Worf for the Klingon rite of Mauk-to’Vor in “Sons of Mogh” is messed up and puts Worf in a tough position, but Worf manages to pick an even worse outcome for his brother. Instead of killing him and sending Kurn to Sto’Vo’kor with his honor intact, Worf does the least honorable thing and has Bashir wipe Kurn’s memory. Without Kurn’s consent! Eeesh.

Everything you do reflects on me There were a bunch of times during DS9 that we really thought Jadzia could do better than having Worf as her mate, and “Let He Who Is Without Sin” is the chief offender. Worf starts the episode arguing about Jadzia consorting with other men even though she’s with him now, gets jealous of the Dax’s previous relationships, and generally poopoo’s Jadzia’s streak of individuality like a toxic boyfriend.

Have you accepted Kahless as your lord and savior? And that’s not even the worst thing Worf does in the abysmal episode “Let He Who Is Without Sin.” He spends the rest of their vacation on Risa palling around with the New Essentialists who’ve decided that people enjoying things is bad form, which is just Worf being petty. So when he goes out of his way to help them literally rain on everyone’s parade, it’s super damaging to his character.

I do not know you, nor do I wish to know you After Jadzia’s death, Worf utterly fails as grieving in a healthy, productive way and instead opts to take it out on Ezri during “Afterimage.” Just because she’s not Jadzia, Worf treats the poor Trill with disdain, ignoring the fact that she too is living through the trauma of being joined to the symbiont. None of this is her fault! Don’t yell at the innocent cupcake!

If it looks like a Dax and it quacks like a Dax… Worf and Jadzia had chemistry like whoa and we were here for it. Worf and Ezri… just don’t. So when they bump uglies in “Penumbra,” we just find it kinda gross and distasteful. My dude, that is not your wife anymore, and she’s in a very vulnerable state having had the Dax symbiont thrust upon her, so it strikes us as kind of problematic that they go to the bone zone (and I don’t mean Worf’s calisthenics program).

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Qapla’! Now that we’ve got our honor back, take the R'uustai with us and subscribe so that you can see our next batch of character spotlights as we segue smoothly into our crewmates from Deep Space Nine! On the flip side, you can listen along to our dishonorable rewatch of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, challenge us to a bat’leth fight on Facebook and Twitter, and join us for some good tea in a nice house.

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fitzfangirl · 2 years

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🔥🔥🔥Hot as Hell🔥🔥🔥

Leopold Fitz x OC

OC: Jennifer Russo, a SHIELD probie trying to prove herself in order to become an official member of Coulson’s team.

A/N: Takes place during the episode “Seeds,” but references the episodes “Aftershocks” and “Laws of Nature.” Grant is not a double agent, but Fitz still had a drowning accident. Skye has already undergone terrigenesis and is now called Daisy. Includes flashbacks.

CHAPTER 1: Bad Seed

They assembled in the kitchen area of the Bus, choking down a quick breakfast before their briefing. Fitz handed Jennifer a mug. “Jen, have some of this tea. Don’t drink that Lipton crap. This is proper British tea.”

“Hey, I drink Twinings sometimes,” she countered. “English Afternoon is fine but Irish Breakfast is my cup of tea, pun intended.” She took a sip and spat out a stray tea leaf. “This is loose tea? Sorry but I’m not as refined as you, Leopold,” she mimicked in a posh accent. “I like my tea in a bag.” She drank it anyway, needing the caffeine to power through her day.

The team was briefed by Director Coulson. A pupil named Seth Dormer was in a pool with two female peers when the water froze. His leg got stuck and another student, Donnie Gill, had to chop him out of the ice.

“The cadet could have died,” Simmons worried.

Fitz was also concerned. “We drew up those concepts years ago. We didn’t know they’d be applied in that way.”

Agent Ward placed a collection of photos from the scene on the table.

“Is this the device they found in the pool?” Agent Johnson guessed.

“Seems like it was planted in the filter days before, like someone was waiting for those specific cadets,” Ward suggested.

“That doesn’t make sense. How often do three science nerds—no offense Fitz-Simmons, I’m a nerd too—strip down for a late-night swim?” Jennifer challenged. “And why is there a pool? I can’t imagine there’s a lot of athletes there.”

Fitz tried to shake off the insult. “Well as far as they can tell, the device uses a crystalline nucleation process Simmons designed.”

Simmons added, “And a delivery mechanism he invented. That’s why we’re being asked to consult on the investigation.”

Daisy piped up, “So we’re going to the Academy?”

“Ooh field trip!” Jennifer beamed.

“To SHIELD Hogwarts.” Daisy and Jennifer high-fived.

Ward rolled his eyes at the callowness of Johnson and Russo. “Science and Technology Division. Cadets are pretty shaken up over what happened. Agent Weaver asked if you two could speak to the student body,” motioning to Fitz-Simmons.

Russo looked to Coulson. “Sir, when’s the last time you and Agent May were at the Academy?”

“Not important, Russo. Agent May and I have our own assignment.” Russo looked down, embarrassed. She sensed that Coulson and May didn’t like her. She was only there because of Daisy.

“Let’s move out,” Ward ordered.

Jennifer placed her empty cup in the sink and removed another tea leaf from her mouth. “Thanks for the tea, Leo. What kind was it?”

“Earl Grey.”

“How does Captain Picard live on that swill? Sorry, no offense. I’m just kind of punchy this morning. We’re going to SHIELD Academy. How exciting?” As Fitz walked away defeated in his attempt to bond with her, Jennifer looked him up and down, admiring his dark blue spotted shirt, multicolored tie, and grey cardigan sweater. She’d love to be wrapped in that sweater, preferably while he’s wearing it.

The group arrived at the Sci-Tech Division. It was an SSR facility before SHIELD was founded. Daisy inquired, “Is this where you got all your PhD’s?”

Simmons corrected her. “Oh, no. You need at least one to get through the door.”

Jennifer looked down and crossed her arms, scratching an itch that wasn’t there. Why did she have to be where all the smart people converge? Couldn’t they go to Operations, where math and science weren’t a requirement? She could’ve gotten a PhD if she put in the effort. But getting a master’s degree followed by a year long internship was enough labor for one lifetime.

They bumped into Agent Weaver, professor and mentor to Fitz-Simmons. They were pleased to see her and she as well. “We’ve narrowed the suspects down to the top ten percent of our cadets. I’m worried there’s a bad seed.” She walked ahead with Jemma and Fitz, who were soon swarmed by adoring fans.

“Look at them, the popular kids. Who knew?” Daisy wondered. Jennifer knew. She admired the two of them, wishing she could be as smart and successful. She was a self-proclaimed Fitz fanatic, following him around like a stray. Annoying him with questions about his work or to explain scientific concepts. She took many advanced level science classes in high school and studied organic chemistry and biochemistry in college, but Fitz was way up in the stratosphere while Jen was stuck at sea level. She assumed Fitz deemed her to be stupid, but she appreciated that he would take the time to indulge her curiosity. Unbeknownst to her, Fitz looked forward to their one-on-one sessions.

The four agents plus Jennifer walked into a large lecture hall filled with excited yet concerned students. Agent Weaver introduced the dynamic duo. “Today we’re proud to welcome back two of SHIELD Academy’s finest. Our youngest graduates to date. You know their names. Please join me in welcoming Agent Leopold Fitz and Agent Jemma Simmons.” The onlookers, including Jennifer, clapped. At the podium, Fitz stood tall with his chin up and his eyes never leaving the audience. He opened with a joke, but quickly the lecture turned serious. Jemma made a point to encourage innovation but cautioned the group that even with the best of intentions, a creation for the betterment of mankind could fall into the wrong hands and be a detriment to humanity. Fitz’s eyes rested on Jen for a brief moment and her heart fluttered. She’d never seen him so confident and relaxed. This must be his safe space, with his kind of people. A familiar feeling Jen experienced at fan conventions. The rest of his speech was a blur as Jen’s eyes were fixated on his lips while he spoke.

“Oh God! Oh God! What is this? Hey, what’s happening to me? Help me!” Donnie’s feet started to freeze and the crackling slowly ascended his legs. “Get it off! Make it stop! Help me get it off! No! Make it stop!” The ice encrusted his head, silencing the frightened boy. Classmates screamed and jumped out of their seats.

Jemma shouted to Fitz, “Find exposed skin. He needs glucose to lower his body’s natural freezing point,” as she thumbed through her kit for a syringe.

“Simmons, I need something to break the ice.”

Ward ran over. “Fitz, talk to me.”

“Something’s doing this to him. Find it.”

“Out of my way,” Jennifer growled, pushing through the crowd. She smashed the ice with her glowing gold fist.

Stay tuned for chapter 2...

#agent fitz #leo fitz #leopold fitz #AoS #agents of shield #Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#leo fitz fan fiction #leopold fitz fan fiction #iain de caestecker

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tough-girl9 · 3 years

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The Stars To Hold Our Destiny

Summary: As the brand-new Enterprise-D prepares for its first mission, Captain Picard has a conversation with his new second officer about shift schedules, William Shakespeare, and humanity. "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves."

Also posted on FFN and AO3

Captain Jean-Luc Picard took an absent sip of earl grey and frowned thoughtfully at the information displaying on his desktop monitor. Behind him, diluted light filtered through the window from Starbase 96 where the Enterprise was currently docked. Tomorrow, they would begin the journey to Farpoint Station, where they were set to rendezvous with the remainder of the assigned crew. On the surface, it seemed like an easy enough mission, but Picard was not convinced it was as simple as it initially appeared. He took another sip and opened the file on Deneb IV and the limited information that Starfleet had provided about the Bandi and their mysterious construction methods.

His perusal was interrupted by a soft chirp from his Ready Room door. "Come in," he called curtly without looking away from the monitor.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Picard looked up to find his second officer standing in the doorway. Picard set down his cup of tea. "Ah, Mr. Data, what can I do for you?"

The android approached, stopping directly in front of the desk with a PADD in his hand. "Sir, I have been reviewing my shift assignments for the next two weeks and I believe I have discovered several errors in my schedule."

Picard frowned as he took the PADD, aware of Data's strange, golden stare as he viewed the schedule that he had written up for his senior officers the previous day. Though it was odd, he had little reason to doubt that Data was correct. Yesterday, he'd seen the android at one of the science stations, the screen displaying information at a speed that rendered it nothing but a blur to Picard's human eyes. Data's record files had noted his exceptional abilities to process and analyze information with a speed and accuracy that no organic species could hope to achieve. If there was an error, Data was definitely the one most likely to find it.

No immediate errors presented themselves however as Picard examined Data's duties. It was a standard schedule, splitting Data's time between operations, science, and engineering. The only non-standard element was a higher assignment of night shifts than normal, due to Data's lack of need for sleep. However, Picard had explicitly discussed that point with Data himself yesterday afternoon, and the android had expressed no concern at being assigned the night shift more regularly than his co-workers.

With a brief shake of his head, Picard held the PADD back out to Data. "I'm afraid I don't see anything amiss with your schedule, Mr. Data. What is it exactly that concerns you?"

"Sir, I cannot seem to locate my assigned duties during these shifts." The android pointed to several of the shift slots on the PADD screen.

Picard's frown deepened a little. "Those are your off shifts, Mr. Data."

"Off shifts, Sir?"

Picard set the PADD down and leaned forward. "Yes, Mr. Data, your off shifts. The shifts during which you are not on duty."

"Ah," Data said, his brow lifting. But then he frowned slightly. "Sir, you are aware that I do not require sleep, food, or personal maintenance. Nor do I have the capability of growing bored. I can easily perform self system diagnostics while performing other duties. It would be reasonable for you, Sir, to provide me with assignments during all shifts."

"No, Mr. Data, it would not be reasonable." Data opened his mouth as if to say something, but Picard cut him off, gesturing to the chair across the desk from himself. "Please sit."

The android obeyed immediately and Picard leaned further forward in his own chair, resting his arms on the edge of his desk, as he fixed Data with a stern expression. "Data, you are a Starfleet officer and a valued member of this crew. Simple because you are physically capable of working non-stop does not mean that it is correct to require you to do so. Not only would it be a violation of Starfleet work regulations, but frankly, it would be morally questionable at best. You may not be human, but you deserve the same benefits as your human co-workers."

Data was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze lowered as he seemed to process what Picard had just said. Then his golden eyes flickered back up to meet Picard's. "But what should I do when I am not assigned on duty?"

Picard's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Don't you have hobbies, Mr. Data? Personal interests and pursuits?"

"No, Sir."

Picard blew his cheeks out, glanced over at Livingston swimming lazy circles in his tank, then looked back at his second officer. "Well then, do you have any goals, any dreams, anything you want to accomplish, anything you want to explore?"

"I wish to be the best Starfleet officer I am capable of being," Data answered. When Picard made a slight harrumph in his throat, the android quickly continued. "However." He paused and his steady, emotionless gaze wavered for a split second as he hesitated. "However," he repeated and continued, his voice soft, "I have also always had a desire to understand humanity, and, if possible, to one day become human myself."

Picard had only met Data slightly over twenty-four hours ago, and the android's impassive face and eyes made him hard to read, but there was something about the way Data had hesitated before his admission, along with the way he was now staring at Picard even more intently, as if searching for a reaction from his captain, that gave Picard the sneaking suspicion that Data had been mocked in the past upon revealing this particular dream.

Something hard settled in Picard's chest. His hand balled into a fist on the desk as he leaned further forward, making sure he had Data's full attention, his voice stern. "Data, aboard the Trieste, were you required to work every shift?"

There was another slight hesitation from Data. Then he said softly, "Yes, Sir, I was. However, I was willing to do so. As I have said, it seemed reasonable to me to increase the productivity aboard the Trieste by utilizing my extraordinary abilities."

"Whether or not you were willing does not matter," Picard said firmly. "They took advantage of you, Data, and violated several Starfleet work regulations by doing so." Data opened his mouth, but Picard raised his hand. "And yes, I realize you are a unique situation, but that still does not make it right. The work regulations apply to all Federation species, and while you may be unique, you are still a living being with the same rights as anyone else aboard a starship."

His voice became low and earnest. "You say you wish to understand humans and to grow in your own humanity. Well, use your off duty times to do just that. Talk to your fellow crewmates, make friends, visit the holodeck, find things you enjoy doing. I don't know how possible your dream is, Data, but if it is possible in even the slightest degree, that is how you will achieve it, not by running scans and data analysis every hour of the day and night."

His gaze softened minutely. "Do you understand, Mr. Data?"

Data nodded. "Yes, Sir, I believe I do." He stood and gave Picard another polite nod of acknowledgement then turned back towards the door, clearly having calculated that the conversation was over.

For a moment, Picard thought it was as well. Then, almost to his own surprise, he found himself standing. "Mr. Data."

The android turned back towards him, eyebrows arched in a silent question.

Picard walked out from behind his desk and to his bookshelf. For a second, he skimmed over the row of books before he found the one he wanted and pulled it off the shelf. He smiled faintly, running his fingers over the brown leather cover and the engraved title on the front. Then he turned back to his second officer.

"This was given to me by one of my professors at Starfleet Academy. It's one of my favorite books and most valued possessions. I'd like to give it to you, Data."

Data took the book gently and examined the title. "Selected Works of William Shakespeare," he read.

Picard smiled. "One of the greatest playwrights and poets of Earth. You want to understand humanity, Data, well look no further. You'll find it all in there. Greed, Ambition, Despair, but also Hope, Humor, Love. The entire stage of the human condition."

Data looked up from the book. "Thank you, Sir."

"Read it," Picard continued. "But, not the way you usually read things. Take your time with it, think about it, think about yourself. And if you like, I'd be happy to discuss each piece with you and talk about what you discover."

"Yes, Sir. I would like that very much, Sir."

Picard watched Data exit the Ready Room, until the doors slid back closed and he was left alone once again. He took a sip of his tea, still gazing at the door, then turned back to his desktop monitor. The file about Deneb IV was still on the screen, but instead of continuing with the information for the mission, he opened a new screen.

Picard spent the next hour writing a very sternly-worded report to the work regulations department at Starfleet.

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mirrorhunt · 3 years

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I’ve got red in my ledger

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

It's another late night, and Raffi has a talk with Rios

Raffi tries to choose. Bourbon or whiskey? Not that that matters. She’ll be drunk by the end of the first bottle both ways. Seven would say bourbon, Rios would prefer his hell-drink that's closer to Romulan ale than anything that could’ve been made on Earth. Besides, it smells like panettone she once made long-long ago.

Bourbon it is. Raffi selects a combination and waits for her bottle. It’s late. Everyone with less demons than she has is asleep. She knows Seven is with Picard, giving him a lecture about his snapping at Soji today. Elnor and Soji are in their cabins. Agnes was having a headache and retired before dinner. That’s left Rios. And she has no idea where he was. She thinks she saw him in the morning while she was waiting for Picard to hurry up with his tea, but not after. Not once. She doesn’t remember there being trouble with the ship, but she wasn’t really paying attention to whatever Enoch was saying, left on the bridge alone.

And, speaking of the devil, Rios appears. He has a smudge of something dark on his face, and he’s rubbing his hands off the rag.

“Where were you hiding? La Sirena is not that big of a ship,” asks Raffi, pointing on the two-stories deck.

“What? Oh, in the tubes. There was a leak in the cooling system, so I had to take a look,” he says dismissively, still trying to rub the grease off.

“And it took you all day?”

“Wha�� What time is it?” frowns Cris, finally letting go of the rag.

“It’s almost midnight,” shrugs Raffi, unscrewing the bottle.

“Shit”, he throws the rag on the table, eyeing Raffi’s bottle. “Did something happen while I was there?”

Raffi shrugs.

“Picard yelled at Soji for some bullshit, Seven’s dealing with him, kids went to sleep, and Agnes had a headache,” summarizes the day Raffi, taking a drink.

“Shit,” repeats Cris, sighing. “I’ll ask Agnes in the morning. Is Soji alright?”

“Oh, she’d almost bitten his head off, she’ll be fine. I gave her some ice cream and it snapped her out of her murderous rampage,” Raffi waves her hand dismissively.

“Good job,” says Cris, relaxing and ordering some dinner for himself.

Raffi drinks while he eats, they both silent, Cris probably because he’s tired and she… Well, she’s just on the “don’t talk to me” stage right now.

“Wanna go to the bridge?” suggests Cris, disposing of his plate. “I need to check out if I’ve done it right.”

“Yeah, sure,” agrees Raffi, hardly remembering when it was just them talking. With so many people on board, it was close to impossible to find a moment for just two of them. She doesn’t really want to talk, but with Cris it has always been easy to be quiet. They both have their own history and no one wants to pry on the pain of the other, apart when it’s necessary. Or when Raffi’s curiosity takes better of her.

That first year when Cris got La Sirena, was fun. She teased him halfheartedly every time he called her, hearing loneliness in his voice. He’ll never say this, but he missed the ‘Fleet’s comradery. She knows, because she missed it too. It wasn’t so much for exciting adventures, going to where no one has gone before or whatever, but the crew. That feeling of belonging, of family, being surrounded by people who care if you live or die. It makes her want to live. And, remembering how the First Officer of Ibn Majid was with his crewmates that time she met him, he was the same.

Maybe that’s why they get each other. Why they stick together. They both were betrayed by Starfleet for different reasons, and now the people, for whom they once would die for, who once were their family, hate them.

She thinks back to the time when Picard contacted her and asked for a civilian pilot. She knew a ton of them, sure, but could think only of Cris. She knew Cris and Picard had a lot in common, and hoped it’ll do Rios good to talk with someone like JL. She just didn’t think Picard would bring a small army with him. Probably Cris needs to design his own uniform now. With hats and feathers.

“No,” shakes his head Cris. Raffi frowns. “I said you then and I’m saying it now – no uniform.”

Oh. She must’ve talked out loud. Oh well.

“But that’s not a rejection of hats,” points out Raffi, sipping from the bottle. “You do look great in hats.”

“No hats.”

“Boring,” sighs Raffi, looking at the holo-screens. ETA is still two days away. She hates long journeys.

Cris ignores her, checking whatever it was from his captain chair. Raffi takes another swing.

“So why did Picard yell at the kid? What’s his problem this time?” says Rios, still going through his holo-screen.

“Something about her still not trusting him,” Raffi winces, remembering the look on Soji’s face. The kid has her reasons not to trust them. She was fooled her whole life, even about who she really was. It’s natural. But Jl got used to people trusting him without a question just because he’s Picard. And he betrayed those people too. So what’s his problem with one more person not trusting him?

“Well, maybe he should take his ass from his head,” Cris shakes his head. Raffi snorts. “What?”

“I thought I was the drunk one.”

Cris looks confused. Then, understanding, he gives her a half-smile and looks like he would throw something on her if there was anything nearby. He wouldn’t throw his cigar cutter, and definitely not cigars. So Raffi just snickers with mirth.

“And Agnes?” Cris drops the subject, and Raffi knows that he will check on Soji in the morning. He loves the kid, and she can’t blame him, especially knowing now what happened on Ibn Majid.

“She’s fine. Emil told that she was just tired and needed to drink more water and rest. I ordered her to go to sleep.”

“You? Ordered her?”

“She loves orders,” Raffi huffs, and Cris sends her a warning glare. She ignores him. “I can understand now why you like her that much.”

“What does that mean?” Cris shifts in his chair. Raffi knows it means “run for your life”, but again, ignores him. She has almost a full bottle of bourbon inside of her, she has no self-defense mechanism.

“Well, you didn’t look at her twice when she first came on board. Just a cute little doctor, who bit off more than she could chew. Who knew she would be a Romulan spy.”

Cris says nothing. Raffi drinks the rest and puts the bottle down.

“I…” Cris’ voice is hoarse, like he wants to defend himself, but has no argument against her accusations.

“I mean, she became so brave and found her voice right after Maddox died. Her friend as we thought back then. She barely cried, poor thing, and I thought, huh, the kid is more broken than I thought. Who knew she killed him in cold blood while we were thinking she was so naïve and too good to be there with all of us. But no. Little Agnes appeared to be right where she needed to be. With people who everyone thinks betrayed them. But the thing is – we know we didn’t betray them. And she did betray us.”

“Stop it,” almost growls Cris. Raffi laughs cruelly.

“A Romulan spy on your ship and in your bed. That’s funny. And I thought she was an interesting choice, knowing about your Marquisa and that Iotian, Ledger, yeah? You must’ve felt she wasn’t so innocent then. I always thought your taste in women will kill you sometime. But, I think, now that that weird-ass crystal is out of her system, you’re probably safe.”

“Why are you so wound up about this?” asks Cris incredulously and hurt.

“She almost killed us all! She wanted to leave the kids and JL to the Romulans!” Raffi is just about to scream with frustration. She had been thinking about that day for a long time.

“She was scared!”

“Yeah. So scared, she wouldn’t just tell us. Like we wouldn’t help her,” Raffi’s hands are itching to squeeze the bottle now.

Cris is silent for a moment. Raffi crosses her arms and buries deeper in the chair.

“Maybe it was my fault,” sighs Rios, and Raffi takes pity on him.

“It was Oh’s fault and her fanatic ideas. How could this be your fault?”

“I… I told her something that maybe guilt tripped her,” says Cris. Raffi turns to face him.

“And what could’ve you possibly said to her to trigger… that reaction?” Raffi points her head towards the sickbay.

“Well… I… Uh…” Cris shoots her a guilty look, and Raffi frowns.

“What is it?”

She had never seen Cris so uncomfortable. Not even before that stupid undercover mission on Freecloud in that ridiculous suit that he somehow had pulled off.

Suddenly she remembers something. Something she dismissed at times, thinking Cris was just stressed and trying to make weird jokes.

“You thought I was a spy?” calmly asks Raffi despite a storm of too well known emotions rising up in her.

“Raffi...” sighs Rios, but Raffi stops him with her hand.

“You thought I would put you in danger? You, Elnor, and JL? Because, what? I had a couple of conspiracy theories? About how Romulans were planning to kill us all? That’s why I would’ve helped them?” Raffi almost hisses in anger. Who does he think she is?!

“You were out on Freecloud, alone, not planning to come back, and then you changed your mind! We had a Romulan tail, and we knew that the snakehead was trying to track us down to find Picard and Soji, what could I think?” shouts Cris, standing up. Raffi follows him.

“Well, if you remembered that I told you that I had a son and was meeting with him, maybe you would think better that time!”

“Yeah, and maybe there was no son. Maybe it was just a catch,” coldly says Rios, and a chill runs down Raffi’s spine.

“Why would I lie about him?!”

“Well, you tell me, ex-Intelligence agent Raffaela Musicer.”

Raffi swings her hand. One second, and Rios stumbles backwards, grunting in pain and holding his nose.

“Son of a bitch,” hisses Raffi, stomping away and trying to hold her tears at bay.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” she hears behind her and grits her teeth. Rios doesn’t deserve the treatment. She wants him to hurt like she is hurting.

“What is this about?”

Oh, great. Just what she needs. Picard and his holier than thou attitude.

“Raffi?” and Seven is with him. Damn it.

Raffi holds a hand up, going past them as quickly as she can. She’ll be safe in her cabin. She can have another bottle there.

#whumptober21 #no.5 #fic #misunderstanding #broken pieces #raffi musicer #cristobal rios #star trek picard

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traccigaryn · 3 years

Text

20 answers for a fanfic 2020

Thank you to @curator-on-ao3 for these questions! I'm a few days late, but who cares?

1. fandoms you wrote for this year

All Star Trek, all the time: Voyager, Picard, and DS9/TNG

2. favorite fic you wrote this year

Oh, that's such a hard question. I love them all, but I think the one that means the most was Tousled, an unrepentant bit of froth about Chakotay's hair. I hadn't written anything in months and was feeling sad but not bad about that. Despite the fact that I started out trying to make it crackfic, I think it may have been the first really truthful thing I'd written in some ways. Also, writing both Tuvok and Seven's voices, making them distinct and distinctive, was so. much. fun.

3. favorite fic you read this year

One thing that fell to the wayside in 2020 for me was reading fic. Still, I read some absolute gems and look forward to unearthing more some time soon.

It is the destiny of stars to collapse by @amoderngirl (T, Chakotay/Janeway). This story. THIS STORY. Months later, and this is still all the coherence I can manage.

Siren Song by @curator-on-ao3 (G, Tom Paris & Cristóbal Ríos). This melancholy and hopeful story was beautifully written and captured Tom and Cris to perfection.

Your Shadow Falling (Caesar) by @coffeeblack75 (E, Chakotay/Cristóbal Rios). Coffee took all these conversations we had, all her insights into these characters and turned them into something joyous and true, smutty and searching.

Not Star Trek at all and not a new story, but Gentle Antidote by x_los was everything I could want in a Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane story that also happened to be a soulmark fic.

4. favorite opening line/scene you wrote this year

"I took another sip of tea and longed for coffee." - From I Thoroughly Lived. Mostly because that is how I feel every time I am drinking tea.

5. favorite ending line/scene you wrote this year

"But in the morning he smiled at her, and she was lost all over again." From Touched.

6. a trope you wrote this year

I think the only out-and-out trope I wrote was a stuck-in-the-turbolift story. Man, I need to do better next year.

7. pairings you wrote this year

To the surprise of no one, mostly J/C, but with an increasing amount of Gen, which was an absolute dream to write.

8. a fic regret from this year

I wrote something I was really proud of, but it hasn't had a chance to see the light of day yet. Hope springs eternal.

9. a song that helped you write

I always feel weird admitting this, but I'm not a big music person? I spent several days listening to Patsy Cline in December, though, and it got me thinking about a whole series of angsty, melancholy stories based on her songs. Stay tuned.

10. total number of fics you posted

Eleven stories. My goal for the year was ten, so suck it 2020.

11. total number of words you posted

63,653 (one piece was co-authored, but I can totes claim all those words for these purposes, right? :D )

12. most popular fic written this year

If we're talking hits and kudos alone, A Sensible Understanding - I mean, it was a smut fest with feels, what's not to love? It was an AU (of sorts) of a rather different story from a few months prior and became its far-more-popular younger sibling. I kind of love that about fic writing.

Between Decks 4 and 5 has also chugged right along and struck a different chord with readers: two people, stuck together in many ways, really just needing to actually talk to each other.

13. least popular fic written this year

Ship, a little drabble I wrote about Harry meeting Voyager. I don't mind.

14. longest completed fic you posted this year

I Thoroughly Lived, coming in at 15,208 words. That was a fun one to write: first person POV, a period AU, and an attempt at gothic mystery. Also corset smut.

15. shortest completed fic you posted this year

The aforementioned Ship (100 words)

16. favorite character to write about this year

Well, that would be Chakotay, wouldn't it? Always and forever. I find the glimpses of layers and contradictions and growth endlessly fascinating. I particularly enjoyed getting to explore his relationships with others this year: Tuvok and Harry, Gerron, Seven, and Cris. Definitely planning on more of that for 2021.

17. a fic you didn’t expect to write

Wherever We're Lost (Jupiter) was probably the most unexpected. It was the first time I'd stretched beyond writing for Voyager and the first time I'd written a pairing besides J/C. @coffeeblack75 and I had so much fun analyzing Cris, thinking about how he'd interact with Chakotay, what brought them both to where we see them. So far, our stories are still the only two in that pairing, but we have more planned. And hey, we all need a rare pair, don't we?

18. most memorable comment/review

I received so many lovely comments this year, and I treasure each one like the baubles they are, but I think my favorite one came from BlackVelvet on Wherever We're Lost (Jupiter) because it encompasses steps forward for me as a writer and the feeling that I am starting to progress:

"You could say i'm an unlikely fan of this story. I haven't seen Picard, have no idea who Rios is, rarely read m/m. Then again, i am a fan of your writing. And it's a delightful feeling to pick up a story, whatever story, and start reading it with a certainty that whatever happens, it'll be amazing, cause you trust the writer. You do not disappoint."

19. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

I've had several stories involving B'Elanna that hadn't quite bubbled to the surface yet, but I think (I hope) 2021 will be their year.

20. something you want to write next year

The B'Elanna stories. The next chapter in the Mythology series. And I want to keeping branching out into other fandoms. That Nancy Drew/Frank Hardy story I've had half-written for a couple years now. Maybe some one-offs in other fandoms that give me some closure.

#fanfiction #my fic #writing meme #janeway x chakotay

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celestialholz · 4 years

Text

Riddle Me This

So, uh... casually reblogging on the train yesterday morning, and there was this:

(Find the original over here: https://anxietyproblem.tumblr.com/post/184795738758)

And well, Qcard inspiration, basically. I’m beginning to think I can literally Qcard anything ever, to be perfectly honest, but have some dumb, wholesome and warming fun for your Wednesday evening anyway, because I write far too much angst and sometimes I think I need to lighten up a little lmao

This is dedicated to @q-card as we had a bit of a crap day yesterday and we deserve some silliness and love, as do you lovely people. <3

------

It’s not even a full minute into his shift when he hears an echoed ping; he spins, baffled, almost coating himself in the first tea of the morning, ready to reestablish boundaries in as few syllables as possible, but to his surprise, it isn’t Q. Instead, it’s simply an ancient piece of parchment, and he makes for it in mild intrigue, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes - what in the cosmos could be so important that he couldn’t have said ten minutes earlier, when they were still half-dressed and making their way through overly sugared pastries? If the god thinks this new relationship is about to devolve to the level of note-passing -

He stares at the elaborate cursive for a moment, brilliant in scarlet ink, and purses his lips.

“‘I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I am the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?’” He reads aloud in disbelief.

... Dear galaxies, it’s even worse than notes.

He considers it for a moment, chiding himself for even humouring the riddle - it’s hardly the conundrum of saving three Enterprises simultaneously, or proving humanity worthy of continuing. He’s a Starfleet captain, for pity’s sake, and he’s fairly certain that the kindergarten population of the ship could come up with something reasonably accurate in response.

“Do you want to know now?” He questions thin air dryly, narrowing his eyes in anticipation of an amused Q’s appearance; handwriting further writes itself across the page instead, and Picard can almost taste the self-satisfaction.

No, no. I can see you’re incredibly busy, wouldn’t want to disturb your vital mission.

He consults the ready room ceiling in palpable exasperation and takes a seat, surveying the latest duty roster just so he looks suitably preoccupied to any casual, omniscient observer. It takes him a moment to realise something profoundly annoying: this is a riddle from an ancient entity, known for his complex tests, and therefore it can’t be that simple.

... Can it?

-------

“All ahead, ensign - warp five,” he instructs mid-morning, a proud, “aye, Captain” setting them off towards the closest starbase to meet a Risan diplomat. He settles into his seat, glances across at his first.

“Number One,” he begins, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir,” Riker replies goodnaturedly, brow raised. “Do we need to adjourn?”

“Oh no, we’re just fine here. A simple example of wordplay for you, if you’ll indulge me.”

The brow hitches further, and the beginnings of a grin form on his friend’s lips.

“A riddle, Captain? Haven’t humoured those in a while. Go ahead.”

He recites Q’s riddle verbatim, and Riker stares at him for a moment, expression bemused.

“... I’ll be honest with you, sir,” he says eventually, “was kind of hoping for something more elaborate.”

Picard blinks for a second, nodding.

“Mm, so was I,” he replies dryly, staring up at the viewscreen. “It really isn’t any more interesting than the obvious, is it?”

“Don’t think so, no. Sorry to disappoint you.” Riker grins, shrugging, and Picard smiles back.

“Forget I asked, Commander. Thank you anyway. You have the bridge.”

--------

He finds exactly who he’s been looking for for a while in Engineering; Data’s halfway up a Jeffries tube, reciting conduit issues to the computer, and Picard crouches down, glancing up at his second.

“Mister Data,” he greets, “you’re quite the poet, I’m sure you’ll enjoy a riddle I’ve been pondering.”

Data’s head quirks to a curious angle given the lack of space, bewildered.

“Would you prefer we discussed this out in the open, Captain?” He enquires mildly, and Picard barely represses a smirk.

“No, no need - I won’t take up much of your time.”

“As you wish,” says the android, voice echoing around the tube. “I must confess to being intrigued at the prospect, sir.”

“Knew you would be.” Picard smiles quietly, and plays the words back aloud.

“... There are eight hundred and sixteen potential responses in Federation standard,” he replies simply, “ranging from the metaphysical to the -”

“Alphabetical?” Another voice answers fondly, and Picard glances up at his grinning chief engineer. “Sometimes, Data, an egg is just an egg.”

“... I am perplexed by your choice of vernacular, Geordi. What do dietary requirements have to do with the Captain’s riddle?”

Picard doesn’t even need to stare up at the familiar puzzlement of the Commander to acknowledge it.

“Although Commander La Forge is most likely correct, sir - the most logical option is the most plausible in this instance. Riddles do tend to have simple conclusions, and none of the alternate options fit quite as well.”

Amusement fills Picard as he quietly excuses himself with a nod, leaving his colleagues exchanging confused glances.

-------

“Guinan,” he questions, half an hour from the starbase, “how are you with riddles?”

“I prefer my words less shadowed,” the El-Aurian replies from nine decks hence, matter-of-fact. “Why do you ask, Captain?”

“Personal curiosity,” he answers not untruthfully. “What do you make of this one?”

He recites it lightly, unconsciously leaning forward onto elbows as he awaits her response - if anyone aboard could have any manner of higher wisdom, it’s surely his old friend, her mostly eradicated race largely a mystery even to him -

Guinan clears her throat, and he can clearly visualise her dry expression.

“You’re a deeply intelligent guy, Jean-Luc,” she answers in exasperation. “You can’t tell me you don’t already know the answer to that.”

“Well of course I know it,” he exclaims woefully. “But I can’t help feeling it isn’t so easy.”

“... I mean, could be ‘nothingness’, I guess, but that’s even more ridiculous than the answer.”

“Mm,” he mutters in agreement, hesitating - his new relationship with Q isn’t something he ever wants to reveal to anyone, and especially not to Guinan, but perhaps a vague hint couldn’t hurt...

“If I told you this was set by someone known for being, well... difficult, would it alter your solution?”

“That’s most of the known galaxy in my experience. Are they also known for being stupid?”

Picard almost chokes on tea at the very idea. “Good lord, no.”

“No, then,” she replies honestly.

“... Ah.”

------

His afternoon of diplomacy having gone as well as it ever can with such an awkward ambassador and his mind as plagued as it’s become over the course of the day, Picard finds he can’t quite help himself as they arrive in transporter room one. The Risan’s clearly intelligent, has spent the last few hours desperately trying to prove as such, and amiable enough.

“Ambassador,” he asks as he nods at the chief, “perhaps a parting gift, as a show of good favour towards our new trade agreement. What humans would call a ‘riddle’; lateral thinking, in the form of wordplay.”

“I did think I’d had quite enough of your wordplay today,” replies the man indulgently, and Picard internally winces, “but as it’s an intellectual custom, please feel free.”

“Wonderful. Now...”

The Risan glances at him in disbelief a moment later.

“... Do they tend to be so simplistic, Captain?” He asks in amusement.

“Usually, yes,” he murmurs almost to himself. “Thank you, Ambassador. I’ll inform Starfleet of our conclusions post-haste, don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“Good show, Picard. Travel safe.”

“And you, Kanfla. Engage.”

Miles stares at him as he leaves, agape.

“... You do know that the answer, right sir?”

Picard rolls his eyes. “Yes, chief.”

------

He’s rather exhausted his options at this point, he realises darkly shortly before he clocks off. Beverly, whilst an invaluable friend and exceedingly helpful, is a woman of science and logic who will consider him likely in the first throes of something nasty and neurological if he starts questioning simple conclusions; Deanna, he acknowledges warily, is likely to assume him troubled and attempt to pry the depths of his psyche, and he takes little joy in being his dear counselor’s subject even when he needs to be. So that leaves -

He takes a subtle breath, and spins in his seat, glad the bridge crew’s on a split shift today and therefore that no one has to hear this twice.

“Mister Worf,” he begins primly.

“Captain?” The Klingon asks attentively.

“... May you indulge me for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.”

“A... riddle.” He almost grimaces, hides it admirably - he doesn’t doubt his lieutenant’s intelligence, but Worf is hardly known for his verbal subtleties or affection for the lateral; indeed, he looks mildly annoyed at the very notion.

“... Captain, with respect, I am not certain I would be of much use to you. Perhaps Counselor Troi would be a more... suitable choice.”

Picard’s lip twists for a split second, and he nods, pulls down his shirt promptly, and stares blankly out into space.

“... Mm,” he answers fairly. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

“... Yes, Captain.”

-------

He finds Q sipping something luminous from a spiral-shaped flute upon his return to his quarters, periwinkle blue sequins shimmering upon the evening robe he’s adopted, and the god grins at his appearance.

“Ah, mon capitaine!” He greets in delight, and damn his cursed riddles, but Picard admits privately that there’s something distinctly warm in his chest at the sight of him - of having someone he cherishes to come home to.

... Not that he has any intention of showing him as such, of course; their kiss is perfunctory at best, and his withdrawing look could sour honey.

“Oh, come now, dearest - you aren’t stuck, are you?” He teases, amused. “Do give me your answer, won’t you? The anticipation’s been driving me mad.”

Picard stares at him, trying desperately to cling to irritation rather than silently melt at the excitement in those eternal eyes.

“You challenge me,” he’d said not two nights earlier against a pillow, fingers trailing across his captain’s cheek. “IQ of two thousand and five, darling. I see everything, I can do everything; do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He valiantly maintains his exasperated countenance, and answers dryly, “The letter ‘e’.”

Q’s face falls with an almost comical suddenness.

“... What?” He says in disbelief. “What in the galaxies -”

He snaps, summons back the paper that’s spent its day upon the ready room desk, scanning it for a half-moment before raising disappointed eyes back to Picard’s bemused ones.

“Well yes, alright, fine,” he dismisses, “admittedly that does fit quite nicely, but did you really think I was going to offer you something with such a depressingly basic solution? Think about it, man!”

This is their acquaintance, Picard notes with a quiet thrill; the permanent game, ramped up to warp ten now that they’re lovers, every touch and night cycle whisper a tease, a promise, an idle nothingness laced with potential meaning.

He has no intention of failing, however little he has to prove any more, and so he thinks through that brilliant stare, mulls the words over his mind.

Beginning of everything; end of everywhere. Beginning of...

“... Ah,” he murmurs, humoured despite a certain weariness. “Ought to have realised it was self-indulgent.”

“’Self -’? Oh,” Q answers softly, smirking. “Well obviously it could be me, yes, but I was thinking rather, er... closer to home, Jean-Luc.”

Picard’s mouth opens, though he realises belatedly that he has nothing of note to say.

“You... meant me?” He asks dumbly, baffled. “How can I possibly be -”

“Perspective.” Q smiles warmly, dots fingers across his uniform before clasping a hand quietly. “You begin and end everything for me, my dear. Honestly, your colleagues are morons - you’re right here! How could that not have occurred to th -”

Picard embraces him spontaneously, buries himself in a warm chest, treasures the arms that encircle him fiercely in response.

“You’re an overly dramatic fool,” he scolds tenderly, no heat at all to the words. “You can just say things sometimes, Q.”

“Too dull,” he drawls, grinning from somewhere above his favourite mortal. “We don’t do dull, dearest.”

He presses a soft kiss to Picard’s skull, and the captain wonders idly how he could ever have been annoyed.

#qcard #writing #tng #jean-luc picard #Q #fic #this is peak domestic qcard tbh

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brinshannara · 5 years

Text

Matters of the Heart (Sanvers Star Trek AU, PG)

Idea from this tweet from Becky and oh man it was not supposed to get this long but oops it did:

https://twitter.com/dayecarter/status/1176268713588342784

Commander Alex Danvers frowned as, for the third time, she caught someone staring at her in the mess hall. Something was up. She generally had a good relationship with the crew, but it was one rooted in respect and even a bit of fear, rather than camaraderie or friendship. As first officer, it was her job to liaise with the crew on behalf of the captain, but she always made sure she stayed on the appropriate side of the thin line between professional and personal.

So what was going on?

She narrowed her eyes at the lieutenant who was looking at her and made sure to keep her poker face when his eyes went wide, having realized he had her attention. He scurried away.

Alex finished her lunch, then brought her dishes to the replicator and let them be disintegrated by the machine. She nodded to a couple of young ensigns as she walked out and headed up to the bridge.

Lieutenant Commander Maggie Sawyer was sitting in the captain's chair when she arrived. It wasn't exactly a rare happening, but Alex was always a little surprised not to see Captain Picard in the chair.

"Commander," Sawyer said, standing.

"Thank you, Sawyer," she said, taking the seat from the woman who had quickly become her best friend. She was a little surprised when Sawyer sat down in the first officer's seat next to her.

"The captain's in her ready room," she said, quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the others on the bridge.

Alex raised an eyebrow before she realized why Sawyer was being discreet. "Situation with the admiral?" she asked, just as quietly.

Sawyer nodded rapidly.

"Ah," she said. "Thanks for letting me know." The captain and her husband, Admiral Picard, had been having some difficulties, as the captain had informed her.

Sawyer nodded. "Of course." She considered. "Holodeck tonight? Maybe we can pick up where we left off last night?"

"That'd be fun," she said, smiling.

"Captain Picard to Commander Danvers."

Alex tapped her commbadge. "Danvers here, captain."

"Would you please report to my ready room?"

"Of course, captain," Alex said, standing. "You have the bridge, Sawyer."

"Aye, sir," Sawyer said, sitting back down in the captain's chair.

Alex rang the chime and entered at the captain's command. The captain gestured to the sofa, not one of the seats by the desk.

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot," she said to the replicator. "Can I get you something, Alex?"

Alex was confused. She didn't know why she was in the captain's ready room. Was it official business? If so, why was she now sitting on the sofa? Why had the captain called her Alex instead of Danvers?

"I'm fine, captain, thank you," she said.

The captain nodded and took her tea with her to the couch and set it gently on the nearby coffee table. She sat down next to Alex.

"Alex, you know I think very highly of you, don't you?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am, I guess so?"

The older woman chuckled. "I wouldn't have requested you as my first officer on my first command if I didn't."

"Yes, ma'am."

Picard took a sip of her tea. "Alex, what you do on your own time is your own business."

She blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"However," she continued, "would you not agree that, as first officer of the USS Pasteur, you must set the example for the rest of the crew?"

"Of course, captain," Alex said, still confused.

"I'm glad we're in agreement," the captain said, taking another sip of tea. "Now, then, what's this I hear about a turbolift incident?"

Alex frowned. "Captain?"

"Danvers, I'm getting reports from all over the ship about your recent behaviour."

"What behaviour, ma'am?" Alex was legitimately confused, having no idea whatsoever as to what her captain was talking about.

Picard picked up a PADD and tapped at it. "Stardate 59772, Ensign Taylor reported that you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were trapped in Turbolift 3 for over an hour and, when Engineering got you out, you were both in a state of, well, undress."

"Captain, the environmental controls had gone offline with the turbolift controls! It was over 32 degrees Celsius in there. Of course we removed our uniform jackets."

Unconvinced, she scrolled down her list.

"Stardate 59807, Lieutenant Black reported that you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were, once again, late exiting Holodeck 2."

Alex laughed. "We were literally two minutes late, captain, and that was because Chief Parker was running late with his time in the holodeck before us."

"Stardate 59823, just last night," Picard continued, "Engineering reports that the holodeck safety protocols were disabled while you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were running a program. Further, once you exited the holodeck, Crewman Cooper said you both appeared to be in a state of intoxication." She let the PADD drop and looked up at Alex. "Really, Alex? You overrode the safeties so you and Sawyer could get drunk?"

"In my defense, captain, it was Sawyer's idea, and it was just a couple of beers while we were playing pool. It wasn't like we were in any danger."

"So I should call in Sawyer and discipline her, is that it?"

"No, ma'am," Alex said, realizing her error. "I was the ranking officer, I'll take the blame."

Picard sipped at her tea. "Don't do it, Alex."

"Do what?"

"Don't fall in love with your best friend," she sighed, putting the tea down. "It doesn't work out."

"I'm sorry?"

The captain turned back to face her. "I think it's lovely that you and Maggie are so close," she said, "really, I do. But, speaking from experience, don't fall in love with her. Do you really want your friendship to turn into what the admiral and I have?"

Alex sputtered. "We're not in love with each other!"

The captain tsked. "Honestly, Alex, I would have thought you knew that you could confide in me." She took her tea and stood, heading back to her desk. "Shift change is about to happen. For my part, I'd recommend you tell Maggie that it's not a good idea." She sat down. "Whatever you do decide, Alex, please be more discreet. The crew is starting to notice."

Alex was still sitting on the sofa, completely and totally baffled.

"You're dismissed, Danvers."

She leapt up from her seat. "Yes, ma'am." She said. "Thank you, ma'am." And with that, she left the ready room, still dazed from the conversation. As she left the room, she saw Sawyer stand from the captain's chair, giving it up to the beta shift commander. Lieutenant Commander Trana Soren looked over at Alex enquiringly.

"You have the bridge, Commander Trana," she nodded to the Bajoran.

"Aye, sir," she said, taking her seat as the rest of beta shift took over from their alpha shift counterparts.

Alex walked up to the turbolift, followed by Maggie.

"Deck 12," Maggie said. It was the deck where both of their quarters were located. "So, pool and drinks tonight?"

Alex shook her head. "Uh, no, I, uh... I have stuff."

"Bad meeting with the captain?" Maggie asked, concerned.

"No, uh... just... no, it was fine." The captain's warning rang in her ears. "Maybe tomorrow."

The turbolift came to a halt and the two of them exited and turned left towards their respective quarters. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, her mind whirring.

"Okay. I'll be in my quarters or in Holodeck 1 after 1900 hours, if you want to talk," Maggie said.

Alex nodded. "Thanks." With that, she turned down the hallway to her quarters. She needed time to think.

***

Three days went by without hanging out with Maggie and Alex missed her friend. She wasn't entirely certain the captain was right, so Alex had decided some distance might help her figure out what was going on. Over the last couple of days, she'd come to the conclusion that she'd never felt this way about anyone before, not even her one serious boyfriend back at the Academy.

She was about to start another evening of deep introspection, seated on her sofa and staring out the windows into the deep vastness of space, when the door chimed.

"Come in," she said, knowing it could only be one person.

"Danvers, what gives?" Maggie asked, walking into her quarters, wearing a civilian outfit, consisting of a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up, and some dark blue slacks that reminded Alex of the fashion from the 20th and 21st centuries.

"What?"

"I mean," she said, walking up to the sofa by the window, "you've been avoiding me." She folded her arms across her chest. "What's going on? You've been weird ever since the captain talked to you."

Alex opened her mouth to argue.

"And don't you even think about denying it!" she added.

She sighed and gestured for Maggie to sit down. "You're right," she said. "And I'm sorry."

Maggie blinked and sat down. "Are you okay?"

"I think so?" she laughed, weakly.

"What did the captain say?" she demanded.

Alex looked over at Maggie. They'd become fast friends. Maggie had transferred aboard just six months ago, but already, Alex knew that Maggie would be in her life forever. At least, she hoped she would be.

"What did she say, Alex?" Maggie asked. "Come on, do I need to go commit mutiny or something?"

She laughed. "No, no," she said. She composed herself and exhaled, slowly. "So you remember she and the admiral were having issues?"

Maggie nodded.

"Well, she called me in there to tell me not to follow in her footsteps, so to speak."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Maggie asked, furrowing her brow.

"It means that she wants me to tell you that..." She blew out a breath. "That this," she indicated the space between them, "that this isn't a good idea."

"That's bullshit, the captain can't tell you who you can be friends with when you're off-duty!"

"No, no, I mean... She meant... She was trying to give me advice not to... fall in love with my best friend." She looked at Maggie.

After a long silence, Maggie finally said two words: "Excuse me?"

"The captain told me not--"

"Yeah, no, I heard that." She looked back at Alex. "And are you?" she asked. "Falling in love with your best friend?"

Alex bit her lower lip as she gazed at Maggie. "I, uh..." She exhaled. "I think maybe I might be."

Maggie nodded. "So, what, you've been holed up in here... thinking...?"

She nodded.

"For three days?"

Another nod.

"And this is the conclusion you've drawn?"

Alex swallowed. "Yes."

Maggie smiled. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one. I came to that conclusion after the turbolift incident."

She blinked rapidly. Her brain wasn't functioning. "Wait, what?"

She was grinning widely now, her dimples on display. "Uh, no disrespect meant here, given you're my commanding officer and all, but you're gorgeous, Danvers. I swear, if they hadn't gotten us out of that turbolift, I was going to launch myself at you."

Her brain started moving again. "Wait. So if I... and you... wait, the captain was right?"

Maggie moved closer to her on the couch. "I think she was, yeah. Smart lady, that captain."

She was close enough that Alex could see her freckles, could smell her shampoo, could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. And she knew that Maggie was waiting for her, waiting for her to confirm things, for herself.

"Can I...?" Alex whispered.

"Please."

Gently, Alex reached out and cupped Maggie's face in her hands before leaning in and softly, so carefully, so deliberately, pressed her lips to Maggie's.

There was a pause and then Maggie started to kiss her back.

It was better than piloting a shuttlecraft through an asteroid belt.

The last coherent thought Alex had that evening was something along the lines of never listening to Captain Beverly Picard again, not when it came to matters of the heart.

#sanvers #star trek #captain beverly picard #admiral jean-luc picard #friends to lovers #st:tng #all good things...

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randomnessunicorn-imagine · 5 years

Note

Hello there! I don’t know if you write for all characters in Star Trek TNG? But if you do can I please get a Captain Picard x reader, where she’s a bit younger than him (20s) and feisty and he falls helplessly in love with her, just general fluff? Maybe funny bits where Deanna teases the Captain about his feelings and makes him admit them to the reader? Sorry if you don’t write for this character, but I hope you have a great day either way!

{ Picard is my favourite in TNG so I’m always glad writing about him!

This thing came out longer than I thought, hope you like it, let meknow.

Like and reblog if you appreciate my fanfictions, that’’d make me glad! }

🍵 JEAN-LUC PICARD 🍵

Love was not one of the captain’s priorities.

The very thought of loving someone terrified him, made him nervous andworried.

The only thing he had to be in love with was his ship, his job and hiscrew. Nothing else. Picard would not have been so selfish to put a single personabove all these things. For this reason, he had chosen to be a severe, reservedand cold captain. His mind had to be lucid and detached from every humanfeeling that could compromise his mind and his performance at work.

The wise words of an old Vulcan friend came into his mind, the Vulcansaid that every emotion had to be suppressed from the very start. Because theheart always lied, emotions were liars and fickle and only the mind said thetruth. Only logic was honest, objective and real.

It would have been easier if he was a Vulcan but maybe then, Picard wouldnot have been a good captain. It was thank to those human qualities, hisindecisions and emotions that he became the proud and valiant man he was. Thequalities that had earned him the respect of his crew and friends. Qualities hecould not give it up and they were beyond every kind of logic.

Other times, the captain had fallen in love but it was never meant tolast. The woman he loved had betrayed him. If it was not enough, she hadbetrayed him with that crazy man named Q. Although he was not even a man but amalevolent, lunatic, manipulative entity who enjoyed tormenting him, since Qkept using the poor Picard as his toy and marionette. After that unpleasantepisode, Picard started losing faith in love.

Maybe he just met the wrong people. The umpteenth proof that he was not builtfor this sentiment and therefore he had to let go and ignore the desires of hislying heart and listen only to his mind, bearer of truth and rationality.Nothing mattered more than his integrity and professionalism.

After all, Picard was not like Shakespeare and this epoch was different.Picard was not a poet and could not afford the luxury of romance because of thepath he had chosen.

However, Picard could not imagine that his heart could be so stubborn,cruel and mocking because it had taken him by surprise and started beatingfaster than usual. This happened when he saw you for the first time, his heartskipped a beat and he forgot his name instantly. The meeting didn’t last longbecause he hadn’t had the chance to talk to you. You had just came here and soyou didn’t know anything about the world around you or what this life meant.

You were still innocent, full of dreams and hopes, so young in thatuniform of yours, your collar almost nude of pins but your smile shone withenthusiasm. Your smile made him fall irrationally and stupidly in love.

You reminded him of one of his past loves, when he was a carefree rebeland didn’t torment himself like now. When he did not fear love, on thecontrary, he searched for it and he was used to break hearts and fall in lovewith ease.

A melancholy smile appeared on his face as he dusted the memories of thepast, sitting in his office and sipping his delicious earl grey tea.

Time passed and the meetings between you and the captain became morefrequent, even if dictated by mere coincidence and no pleasure, they wereprofessional meetings during missions and explorations. Not that he intended todeepen this relationship, his work was his most important priority but otherpeople had noticed his feelings in his place. Because he could deceive himselfbut not the friends who surrounded him especially when the said friend was anempathetic woman who was able to perceive emotions. It was hard for Picard tohide or disguise his feelings.

One day Deanna approached him to talk about the feelings he keptignoring.

“Do you still think of them, Captain?” she asked, smirking amused,because she knew more than Picard thought.

“What do you mean, counsellor?” he asked absently, he pretendednot to have understood.

“Lately, I see you lost in your thoughts, almost nervous, issomething bothering you? Maybe a person?” she said and then sat in the chairin front of his desk.

“The usual worries, nothing serious. Thanks for your interest, counsellor.”he did not lie but was not completely honest and from the confident smile heshowed, anyone would have said that no grey thought was crossing the captain’smind.

“Are you sure, Captain? I’m talking about Y/N.” Deanna pronounced yourname and Picard’s eyes went wide, his expression became serious but curious,maybe Deanna was right and, in fact, a satisfied smile appeared on her face.

“How does ensign Y/N fit in this conversation?” Picard asked, seriously.

“I’ve the feeling you are very interested in them, I see youparticularly radiant every time you approach each other and you can’t stopsmiling like a child.” Her tone of voice was almost energetic, playful becauseDeanna was actually glad seeing her Captain so cheerful even though he did notwant to admit it.

“Well, maybe a little…” Picard smiled, finally, unable to hide the truthto Deanna, “But they’re younger than me. I can’t, I have responsibilities andduties, I can’t think about these youth affairs.” He said with severity andDeanna sighed.

“Interacting with your crew is your duty as well. Why don’t you invitethem to dinner?” Deanna suggested and the Captain shrugged his shoulders.

“Not that kind of duty.” Picard did not want to give up or maybe he wasnot ready, it was so hard, he could not lose himself again.

“Give them a chance and, before being a Captain, you’re a human and I thinkyou need that. You need some warm and relax, the company of someone. It doesn’thave to be a romance. You don’t have to marry them but only meet them and spendsome good time in complete comfort.” Deanna explained and Picard had no reasonto refuse it because her words made sense. He truly needed a rest and so hesighed and he agreed to her proposition.

After the conversation he had with Deanna, her mind was clearer and heunderstood that some time a man had to face the desires of his heart without betrayinghis mind and he could still be a great Captain without renouncing to his humanside, the things he craved in his heart.

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lacetrekmusings · 6 years

Text

TNG liveblog: Deja Q (WOOOO)

uh-oh deadly deadly moon

I’m digging the look of these aliens though

I love LeVar Burton’s voice. I just love it. I could listen to it all day. maybe it’s from all the reading rainbow as a child but it’s just the best.

OMG Naked Q hahahaha. he’s trying a new tactic to get picards attention, literally throwing himself naked at the enterprise.

Lol they think its his fault the moon is falling.

Q’s fascination with the human race continues in choosing to become one

OMG THE LOOK ON JEAN-LUC’S FACE WHEN HE SAYS ‘THE CLOSEST THING I HAVE TO A FRIEND’

“What must I do to convince you?” “Die” AHAHA WORF YOU ARE PERFECT

I like how they just had clothes for him almost immediately.

Q you’re not making any friends here

BRIGHT LIGHT

I should read more PicardQ lol

lol Q being terrified of falling asleep awwww

I feel like there’s no way a Q’s knowledge could be contained in a human mind lol

lol Data is the Q-sitter. “It means that you have achieved in disgrace what I have always desired to be.” DATA I LOVE YOU

Q they can’t change the gravitational constant of the universe haha.

AHAHAHA BEVERLY “you’ve been a pain in out backside often enough.”

GUINAN!!!

MORE Q-GUINAN STANDING OFF. SHE FUCKING STABBED HIM

“The only way you’re gonna survive is on the charity of others” hahaha yes

Whoop The weird Blue cloud has come for Q

Guinan is so enjoying him suffering and I love it

Picard sees right through you Q

Q and Data make a charming odd pair

GEORDI IS TAKING NONE OF YOUR SHIT Q

not NOW Calamarain, we just got the moon moving

Oh no Data!

I love when Geordi and Beverly work in tandem to help Data

Picard listens to Q pour his heart out, just looks at him and sips his tea. that’s just too delightful

does no one watch the shuttles? can people just open the shuttlebay doors without permission?

Aww Q is attempting to sacrifice himself. ‘as a human i would have died of boredom’ hahah, yeah probably.

Picard feeling the need to justify himself to riker to try to save him HAHAHA yes good

another Q! that’s up to 3 (counting the one from TOS)

Q’s back!

omg with a mariachi band and everything, while Picard suffers.

Q letting Data laugh is the sweetest damn thing. IT WAS A WONDERFUL FEELING *sobs*

aw Q put the moon back. awwwww

i loved thatttttttt 10/10 lovely episode

#tng musings #tng liveblog #star trek tng #tng: deja q

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mirrorhunt · 3 years

Text

Talking is overrated

Garrote | choking | gagged |

Rios wakes up from a nightmare to find Soji on the bridge

Soji sits in the nav-chair, looking up and humming along with his playlist. Cris smiles sadly, trying to make more noise for not to spook the kid. Even though she'd probably heard him when he got out from his cabin.

“Hey,” she turns to look at him hearing him stomping towards his seat.

“Hey,” he replies as quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks lightly, and Cris notices the cup in her hand and another one on the control panel.

“When you’ll be my age you’ll understand,” playfully quips Cris, trying to banish the bloody stains from his memory.

“You’re not that old,” giggles Soji taking a sip. Cris wishes for a cup himself to warm up the clammy chill somewhere where his heart is supposed to be. Maybe aquardiente would be better, but not in front of la hiha.

“Exactly what a young one would say,” teases Cris halfheartedly and sees the result – Soji’s eyes shine with laughter. Good. “Why are you up?”

“Don’t know,” she shrugs, careful not to spill whatever is in her cup. “Maybe my programming is kicking in, remembering that I’m not human and don’t need eight hours of sleep.”

Cris wants to joke “In your age you need ten for growing” but can’t. That’s not the time, not when Soji again is in the faze of hating who she is. He thinks how he can help her. He’s not a synth. He wasn’t even close to her experience. Maybe he should call Seven, maybe she’ll understand better if Picard is so closed off with sharing his experience as a Borg.

But isn’t he himself closed off? Isn’t he scared of his past? He is, and his nightmares proves this every night he decides to succumb to sleep.

“You know I knew one of your… sisters,” he starts, not knowing where it will go, but he’ll try to figure it out on the go. Damn, he wishes desperately for a drink now.

“Jana?” Soji nods, interested. Cris nods too.

“Yes. Her. I didn’t have much time to befriend her, but she looked human. She was human. She was a talented artist, had a sharp humor, and was a great debate opponent. She was warm and kind. Just like you,” he says hurriedly, scared of his memories getting the best of him. He wants to give her this. A piece of light he remembered of that day before it went to shit.

“She was programmed to be,” quietly defies Soji. Cris shakes his head and gets up.

“No. She improvised. If I tell computer to lay the course to whatever it wants, it’ll try to specify or find a pattern from the logs. If I tell a human to pick a planet to visit, they will name one most interesting to them, not me. See the difference?”

“Laying the course to Vorex III,” calls out computer and Rios with Soji jump from suddenness.

“What, no! Computer, stop laying the course! No! Damn it! Enoch!”

ENH shimmers through air near Soji making her squeak in surprise.

“Yes, captain?”

“Cancel new course, and lay us on the previous one,” orders Cris, frustrated. The smartest AI in the market, yeah. Sure.

“Yes, Captain. Excuse me”

Soji gets up, taking two cups with her and leaving the seat for Enoch, watching him with fascination. Everyone, apart from Raffi, was in wander of his holos, trying to sneakily find out why are they all presented with his face. So he keeps quiet and swears not to drink too much so not to give Seven a chance to winning their competition “who’ll find out Rios’ holos secret first”.

“Lets go downstairs, I want a snack,” sighs Cris. He’s tired. But he’s done with nightmares tonight. May as well talk with fellow friend in sleepless night.

Soji disposes of her empty cups and makes a new one. Hot cocoa. She looks back at Rios with his sandwich, and makes another cup.

“Without peppermint. Classic. Two sugars. Right?” she half-smiles, setting the cup near him.

“Right” he frowns, surprised. “How did you…”

“Read the logs,” she shrugs. “You usually take your coffee with two sugars, and tea too, and prefer desserts so sweet you have no right to claim my love for peppermint taste disgusting.”

Cris huffs a laugh. He will never get rid of the scent of peppermint off his ship. Sometimes he thinks even his lunch has a slight peppermint aftertaste. It’s like eating after brushing your teeth. But if the kid loves it, he’ll suffer a bit. It doesn’t mean he won’t complaint though.

“Romulans tried to kill me because of who I am,” Soji says after Cris finishes his sandwich. She stirs her drink thoughtfully. “Made me trust one of them, fall in love with him, only to put me in a room, promising to help, and put a poisonous gas inside. To watch me slowly choke and die, crying for him, and begging to come save me. He never did. He stood there, turning his back to me, hearing me, and he did nothing. I thought I’ll die right there. I couldn’t breathe, and even if I could – it would’ve been a breath full of poison, and I’ll choke again. I wasn’t even panicking. I just knew – here I die, not knowing why, betrayed and naïve and scared with no-one to help me. And then something shifted. Something changed. Like something finally was set free. And I saved myself.”

Cris wants to hold her hand, but is unsure. She’s strong, there’s no doubt, but he wants to support her in her battle with her past, like Agnes and Raffi do it for him. He hesitates one more moment, before gathering his bravery.

“All done, Captain!” cheerfully reports Enoch, scaring them both again.

“Dismissed,” winces Cris, feeling how the moment has passed. Enoch disappears like he had appeared, and they sit in silence once more.

“They didn’t tried to kill you because of who you are,” he says, carefully choosing his words.

“You think?” sharply and clearly hurting responds Soji.

“Yes. They tried to kill you for what they thought you are. And they were wrong,” Cris takes a hold of her twisting fingers, warm from the cup, but quickly losing the warmth from wary.

“I tried to destroy the galaxy,” reminds him Soji.

“Yeah, you did. I would too. The galaxy is shitty place and deserves it sometimes,” Soji laughs a little at this. “But you thought better of this. And here I am. Still alive. Still having nightmares of your sister. Drinking cocoa with you in the dead of the night. So,” he tips the rest of his drink, wincing at the sludge on the bottom, “not so bad of a galaxy.”

Soji huffs a laugh of her own. Damn, he really rubbed off on her already, Raffi was right.

“Not so bad,” agrees Soji, nursing her cup.

“Try to get some sleep, hiha. Synth or not, you’re still three years old,” Cris hurries to get out of the way in time to dodge a sticky, partially melted marshmallow in his hair.

“You too,” Soji smiles content and calm. Cris smiles too.

#whumptober21 #whumptober #no.2 #tw choking #tw eating mention #cristobal rios #soji asha #broken pieces #fanfic #star trek picard

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celestialholz · 4 years

Note

Hello it's me - OF COURSE I'm gonna request a qcard flashfic lol This is a bit different, but here's my idea: Q's "siblings" comment on Q and Picard's relationship. Alternately: Q discusses his relationship with Picard with a "sibling". I just love outsider!POV.

Oh, go on then love. :D As promised - based on the latter, sweetness coming at you, with just a dash of ethics.

Fancy a Qcard flashfic of your choosing, pals? Hit your girl up: https://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/190139763081/guys-i-need-to-flashfic

Flashfic Two: A Stone’s Throw Away

“I just… I don’t understand, Q,” his sister announces in frustration as they stare straight through the chaotic fabric of the Continuum, into the vast vibrancy of the universe beyond. “I want to acknowledge it, but -”

“But you’re utterly lacking in imagination,” he drawls, his sigh soul-deep, “much like everyone else around here.”

We can hear you, you know, another of his people snaps, and their rebellious brother smirks.

Oh, that was rather the point, he thinks back, returning to the matter at hand with no small amount of exasperation. “From the top, then…”

“What I observe,” she recalls, frowning at the canvas of the cosmos, “rather than see.”

“Exactly. We all understand the chemistry, the physics - what’s past it, my dear?”

“I guess… potential? One day, anyway -”

“Yes, and…?”

“Er… I mean, there are some planets out there, of course -”

A wall unconsciously summons itself into existence solely to give the rebel something to dramatically slump against.

“… Look, I’ve got better things to do than be the subject of your ire,” she spits in annoyance. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong, or leave me the hell alone!”

He stares at her pityingly; the wall disappears, transformed instead into a lone rock.

“You wanted to see what I do,” he notes, finger spreading a message across the surface, eyes sparked by intrigue. “I see possibility, my dear, for there to be more than simply the physical appearance. Now, watch and learn, won’t you?”

He tosses the stone idly; it chasms through dimensions after vanishing, arriving not half a second later upon a desk, startling fresh hell from a bald, previously pensive human. The siblings watch, one grinning, one insatiably interested, as Picard picks up the stone, peruses its perfectly cursive script; an eyebrow raises, a faint smile clings to lips.

“’A gift’,” he reads aloud. “’RSVP.’ You are ridiculous…”

“He looks so unremarkable -”

“Hush. Watch.”

His lover replicates a marker pen, considers the sentiment briefly, and writes his response; he throws it back easily, just slightly to the left of the aquarium - Q is legendarily fickle, after all - and it flashes instantly out of existence, arriving back on the Continuum’s event horizon, hovering easily between the siblings. His sister’s mouth parts in surprise, gaze wide upon the simple reply.

“’I’d have preferred flowers’?” She recites in bewilderment, glancing at her beaming brother. “I… think I understand, now.”

“Go on, do explain,” Q encourages, running soft fingers across the stone, quite ignoring her.

“He… threw it back.”

“Yeah, he did…” The gaze upon the words is positively misty.

“He can’t do that.”

“No.”

“He’s a mortal - he shouldn’t be able to see in non-linear ways. He should have just kept it, or called you, or ignored it entirely.”

His attention switches to her, academic curiosity piqued.

“Yet he didn’t.”

“… Because he thinks outside the box, right?”

“Oh, yes. No boxes at all, in fact. He sees more.”

“… Like you do?”

“Like I do.”

She smiles, finally nodding.

“And that’s why you love him,” she surmises fondly. “So when I asked what you saw in him -”

“Everything I see out there, my dear.” He glances across at Picard through space-time as he sips tea, eyes desperately soft. “I see someone else who knows that really, they know absolutely nothing at all, and wants nothing more than to take a risk on it anyway. Now, if you’ll excuse me - he’s absurdly attractive, as I’m sure you’ll concede, and I should adjourn accordingly.”

His sister’s gentle countenance shifts instantly to distaste; there had always been a reason they kept such activities firmly in their own conscious spheres.

“Do not elaborate, Q, but… have fun, I suppose?”

“Oh, I assure you, I will.” He’s gone in a mischievous wink, and she banishes the image before she sees anything disturbing, instead reaching into the collective consciousness of the Continuum with a mild intrigue.

… So, next time we divine an extraordinary mortal, she pitches sheepishly, I’m calling dibs, okay?

#celestial's qcard flashfic event #thesadchicken #it's a selma fic babyyyy #qcard #prompts #writing #flashfic #star trek #it's all a bit metaphysical mes amis

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celestialholz · 5 years

Note

Qcard 28? If that ok? 🖖🏻

OH MY GOD I WAS HOPING FOR THIS ONE. Thanks anon! :D Sorry this has taken me a hot minute, I’m generally quite crap at life…

Welcome to your dose of Sunday evening feels. Call it dinner, because one needs a balanced, nutritional meal of angsty love at least once a day, and I am LIVING for soft Qcard tbh. #DoctorHolly (tl;dr? The word of the day is ‘bittersweet’, my friend). Y’all can blame these Expansion feelings I’m giving myself…

(Fun fact: This is something of a spiritual prequel to last week’s prompt on snowballs [http://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/179725251226/qcard-and-11-it-seems-to-fit i.e. this thing], though you definitely don’t need to read that first - it’s simply the same ring we discussed there).

28. “Marry me?”

Prompt list here: http://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/179662102941/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you

“Would you marry me, if I asked?”

Across his quarters, Picard glanced up from his PADD with exasperation.Of all the ridiculous things the god had ever asked him…

“Congratulations,” he drawled. “Amongst a veritable myriad ofways to distract me that you’ve employed over the years, you’ve finally discoveredthe most absurd.”

Q leaned over the sofa, his lips curled into a frown.

“I’m being serious, Jean-Luc.”

The Captain emitted a disbelieving titter as he consulted the dutyroster he’d been working on once again.

“Now I know you’re not. When are you ever serious about anything?”

“I am perfectly serious about us, as well you know, Picard.” Q’stone was snipped, eyes hard, and his lover gave a soft sigh as his PADDvanished with a brilliant, petulant flash. Well, if the only way he couldcontinue working was by indulging him… twelve years beside him, and the entitywas still frustratingly insecure.

Then again, he certainly wasn’t offering him his full attention.He hitched upright, heading for his replicator.

“Tea, Earl Gray, hot.” It materialised with a whir. He took aconsidered sip, smiling, feeling Q’s eyes heatedly upon him. “So, where wouldwe do this? Would we perhaps hire out Ten Forward?”

He noticed Q’s vague surprise in his peripheral vision as he perused ashelf of exotic trinkets from their travels.

“I… hadn’t considered it,” he muttered, “but I’d thank you to thinkthat I have more class than your pit of drunken starship iniquity.”

Picard smirked at the carvings of an ancient vase, shaking his head.

“I’ll be sure to inform Guinan of your glowing report.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Q grimaced, features turning pensive. “KatiganVIII, perhaps. Ten-foot high waves of crystal upon a cornflower shore, usbeneath them in wedding finery, or whatever passes for it in Starfleet. Oramongst the ruins of Lanigo, seeing as you apparently have a distinct fondnessfor them.”

The dry observation didn’t pass up Picard, who pointedly moved to an artefactof different origin – an archaic toy, which slotted together in multipledifferent ways. He rotated it curiously, giving it his full concentration.

“You are aware, presumably, that Will would be the onboard officiant inmy absence?”

“Yet another reason we’re not doing it here,” Q growled. “I wouldrather perish than recite vows in that man’s general direction.”

The lack of conditional tense didn’t escape the observant Captain’snotice, who manipulated the puzzle with vague amusement – was he assuming hisagreement?

Two can play theteasing game, mon dieu.

“I imagine the buffet would be a culinary delight…”

“Oh, exquisite. The most delectable of canapés, caviar, Tinibriansnufflegorts, foie gras… anything French, naturally, as well as your family’sbest vintage on ice. Candles absolutely everywhere, in shades of deepestvermillion and most regal sapphire, permanently aflame. It’ll be incrediblyromantic, Jean-Luc,” he cooed.

Picard directed a curious look at a (hopefully replicated – Q hadassured him) section of the Bayeux Tapestry that had hung upon his lounge wallfor a little under two years, gaze drilling into the primitively renderedswordplay – so he had thought about this, then.

“Of course, the crew would all be invited.” His voice remained admirablylevel, verging on sarcastic – this was a spectacle, surely, nothing more thanan elaborate attempt at distracting him –

“No,” Q replied instantly. “This isn’t for them.”

A resounding clack echoed as Picard’s fingers slammed a pieceinto place with far more force than he’d intended.

He’s not – he isn’teven joking. Dear gods above…

“Oh,” Q murmured sadly. “You actually thought I was just tryingto distract you.”

Why wouldI not think –Picard strangled down his own astonishment, digits lightly shaking against theflaking wood, his tone beaten into submission to remain neutral after a fewsharp swallows.

“What would you say, Q?”

The deity paused for a moment, knowing full well that he wasn’treferring to his own shock.

“Oh, something doubtlessly trite and exuberant,” he remarked softly. “Perhapsthat I have lived for millions of years, and that I never understood theconcept of a soulmate, or maybe that I would rip apart the known universe toprotect you, and trust me, I know it inside out. It’d be along those lines,certainly.”

Tears sparkled in slate-grey eyes, Picard finally deigning to turn tohis beloved.

“Do you have any idea how terrifying that is?”

“Significantly less so than the thought of being without you, I assume.”Q was staring earnestly at him, his expression matter-of-fact.

The human took a slightly ragged breath, heart beating wildly.

“Why do you want to do this, Q?”

Q murmured a bitter half-chuckle, getting up to prise the puzzlequietly from his hands.

“Because you don’t get to stay with me forever,” he whispered. “I canbring you back, of course, but that would be dependent, and I…”

He swallowed silently, collecting himself, cursing the very idea ofthis obtuse mortal and the weakness he had spawned at his very essence.

“It would be something of a comfort to know that somehow, in spirit,you’re always going to be by my side.”

He clicked softly; the conundrum split into pieces, the fragmentsincomplete without one another, but the ultimate prize at their heart. Picard’sgaze locked to it breathlessly, enraptured; it was unmarked platinum, jetblack, sparkling with what seemed like impossibly condensed stars.

“A permanently collapsing supernova.” Q’s voice was somewhat hoarse. “Capableof invisibility when you’re in anyone else’s company – I entirely understand ifyou don’t want this made into public knowledge – and I can make it into anecklace or something, if you’d rather –”

“Q.” Picard choked his name.

“Yes, dear?” His eyes were steel with intensity.

“Ask me the damned question.”

The god nodded nervously, fingers raising; Picard caught themimmediately, gaze burning.

“No,” he requested quietly. “No pomp, no ceremony, no relocation – not evena candle, mon dieu. I’m not here to respond to my magician,simply to the one I love.”

A distant, thankfully uninhabited spiral galaxy burst into an infernoat Q’s anticipation, at the absolute delight that was this human – he was wellwithin his rights to expect the universe’s most exuberant proposal from a manwho could easily deliver it, but he was more than content to simply accept thebasic question, already knowing his exact reward. He was truly exceptional.

“Right.” He cleared his throat, trembling silently. “Do I just –”

Perhaps that galaxy was far closer than he’d assumed, because by theContinuum, was it just him or had it retroactively climbed several thousanddegrees in the previous few seconds?

“However you wish, Q,” Picard reassured gently.

A muttered relief left him – thank the stars for that. It wasall getting vastly too… sweet.

As you command,mon capitan…

A firm hand spun the Frenchman, who gaped upwards and through theexoglass of his quarters as fireworks burst into existence, spelling out asimple question: MARRY ME?

“Surely you didn’t expect me to be so basic, Jean-Luc?” Hebreathed to his ear. “Not very me, is it?”

Picard burst out laughing, utter, fond exasperation permeating to hiscore.

“You entire fool,” he whispered. “I must be insane, but yes.”

Q beamed, arms wrapping tightly around him from behind.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmured. “Thank you, dear. Now,if you’ll excuse me, at least spiritually – I was rather delighted, you see,and I’m fairly certain half the quadrant saw that. Somewhat ruins the conceptof subtlety.”

Picard shook his head with a grin, willing for once to forgive him hisindiscretion, silently basking in the majesty of the universe as he pressed awarm kiss to his beloved’s clasped hands.

Perhaps he’d entirely lost the plot, but by his god, he’d willingly acceptit for this wondrous brand of madness.

#qcard #prompt fic #q #picard

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celestialholz · 5 years

Note

Qcard 222? Pleeeeeeeeeease? :D

Happy to oblige, dear anon - thank you for the prompt! I apologise for this taking me a little bit - I’m trying to organise moving house, which is an absolute ordeal!

Welcome to 1600 words of feels for your patience, my friend, and the deliberate misdirection of what you’d probably expect from this prompt. I thoroughly enjoyed creating this, and hope you love reading it just as much! =)

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Prompt list here: http://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/179662102941/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you

It was blissfully quiet in Picard’s quarters; soft breath was all thatcut through the air, the sleeping Captain’s mind at utter ease. By his side, Q’slips curled into a silent smile; it was majestic to watch this ineffable humanat peace, his diplomacy, quick wit and brilliant intelligence switched off byhis own biology. Jean-Luc Picard soared above his species, courageous enough tobegin affairs with gods, stubborn enough to keep such matters private from hiscrew, and far too delightful to watch in their afterglow.

He wasn’t welcome after hours, he knew – “I wouldn’t want you to getthe wrong impression, Q,” he’d murmured several weeks earlier, everthe diplomat. Too late, dearest, Q had acknowledged, onlyslightly bitter – the man was far too enthralling to ever be truly irritatedby, and he was vastly too enamoured to maintain the illusion of being so. Itwas an arrangement of convenience, a way in which to satiate the entity’sconstant desire to play god upon his vessel. It didn’t mean anything – well,not to one of them, at least.

Made something ofa rod for your own back there, didn’t you? His subconsciousdrawled. A billion lifetimes of cosmic awareness, and you still thought thatengaging in intercourse with a transient mortal you’re in love with was amagnificent idea. And you mock theirstupidity.

Q sighed wearily, in desperate need of a distraction from his personalself-deprecation; quietly, he slipped into the dreams of his lover, knowingthat whilst it was invasive, Jean-Luc would hold no great qualms with the act.

Picard was relaxed, sun beating down upon his handsome features from aworn sun lounger that perched upon the hill above his family’s vineyard. Qglanced down at him in fond amusement, vexed.

“Honestly, Johnny – who dreams of being asleep?”

The Frenchman’s eyes wrenched open within his own mind, startled.

“Q?” He demanded in bewilderment. “What on earth – is thistelepathy? Am I still asleep? What are you doing here?!”

“Yes, yes, being intrigued,” the deity replied softly, smirking. “Doyou want me to leave?”

The ‘get out’ lingered on Picard’s tongue for a long moment,before he gave a sigh of relent.

“As long as you don’t intend to be irritating, and I get the requiredrest, then no.” He shoved his spine into the back of the lounger, calming. Hismind hummed with disapproval, accepting nevertheless, and Q basked in itstangible glow; the sun held real warmth in the mysticism of the mental space,the experience as true to its beholder as the actual world would have been.

“I shall be a paragon of virtue, my dear,” the entity assured himmildly, conjuring a recliner of his own and easing into it.

“First time for everything,” Picard drawled, unconvinced.

Q gave a silent grin, summoning a frosted glass of iced tea to sip;they basked in silence for a little while, simply enjoying the ambience of aFrench summer, the god fully absorbed in the tantalising, indistinct psyche ofhis companion. It was a marvel, the resonant peace he’d managed to acquire justbeing beside him – any real period of inactivity had always had Q itching todiscover something new, to create havoc, yet he was entirely content to existquietly beside this enigma of a human.

Missionaccomplished, he noted miserably. Sleeping with me haseradicated my desire to entertain your precious crew.

“You hated this place,” he murmured, more to hush his damning owndamning assessment. “Why would you return to it in dreams, when the universe isyour oyster? You are as omnipotent as I am, here.”

Picard’s lips pursed pensively, smile fading as quickly as it hadarisen.

“Saudade,” he murmured. “Something lost, which can never bereclaimed – in this instance, a time when things weren’t always perfect, butfar simpler.”

Oh, I remember,Q mused inwardly, only his mastery of telepathy keeping his thoughts personalin his lover’s domain. I only wish I’d recall well enough to abandon you –but, then, I never was one for self-preservation. Too dramatic, you see.

“Mm,” he muttered noncommittally, simply to fill the void.

Picard rose a surprised brow at the lack of quirky reply, gauging thesituation for a moment.

“I doubt my need for relaxation this evening stems from anything that Ishould be overly concerned about.”

“No?” Q summoned a cushion for the back of his head, placing it in afluid movement as he tried to appear as though he didn’t hang permanently offthe man’s every word.

“I think not. I’m sure the individual that I have appealed to is on thesame page as I am.”

Q turned onto his side to stare, following the line of cryptic thoughtwith equal vagueness.

“Well, hopefully. I could check, if you like? It would hardly be beyondme.”

“No, no, it will be quite alright, I’m certain.” Picard’s gaze returnedto the ambling vineyards. “I just don’t understand, you see, becausethey knew the whole time. I was never anything other than upfront.”

Something very similar to foreboding crept up Q’s spine.

“Perhaps they do know,” he murmured, “though, of course, knowing doesn’tmake something personally applicable.”

“Doesn’t agreement?”

“Potentially. That rather depends on who we’re discussing, doesn’t it?”

Picard’s eyes wrenched back to his, their irritation clear.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I don’t notice.” Hiswords were little more than a whisper, though they held the sharpness ofmidwinter. “Like I’m comprised of, of… stardust, of the finest jewels… asthough I’m something – wonderful.”

Q gave a bark of a bitter chuckle, gaze taut, his tea cast aside with aswipe of his hand.

“You mortals are so obtuse,” he murmured, deliberately glancing away,the vines before him blurring just slightly. “You spend so much of your livesdealing with the physical, the tangible to your limited senses, that you forgethow much more there is, that there are things far beyond your comprehension.You’re human, Jean-Luc – oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, calcium, a handfulmore; seventy percent water, five foot nine, French… really quite dull, by yourpeople’s standards, though highly intelligent, and rather handsome to boot. Youlive an average life, on an average vessel, in a largely uninteresting timeperiod – by rights, you shouldn’t fascinate anyone, much less a god.”

He conjured a holographic star system, a miniature Captain floating atits heart, a bright smile gracing his lips. The real thing watched, entranced,unwilling to give away a damned thing.

“But we’re all more than the sum of our parts, aren’t we dear?” His ownsmile was tired as he regarded the hologram. “You’re brilliantly clever, morethan willing to stand up someone so beyond your capacity it’s laughable… yourise above the morons you exist beside. A diplomat, a man of honour, wisdom,passion… you are wonderful. You match me word-for-word, never bore me, alwaysprove a challenge – and you care, on whatever level it may be. You askme how my day’s been when I don’t even have a concept of linear time, how theContinuum’s doing. No one does that, you know. I’m acquainted with billions,Jean-Luc, and none of them mean a damned thing in comparison. Innumerate stars,planets, phenomena, people, timescales, and it all reduces to you.”

The tiny cosmos retracted to nothingness in Q’s palm, leaving the simulatedCaptain alone, still regarding his magician as though he was the world. Picardstared, breathless, his relaxing dream quite forgotten.

“My point is, you’re the tiniest pinprick of existence – you aren’t anewly formed sun, an unexplored M-class system, the first inklings of a highlyadvanced race upon an untouched world… physically, you’re worthless.”

He smiled morosely, trembling fingers causing his illusion to flicker;his eyes finally deigned to meet his lover’s, burning with emotion.

“But by the Continuum, and all we are, you are the universe tome.”

Picard choked back tears, visibly compromised.

“I…” He swallowed quietly, struggling to regain his usually impeccablecomposure. “This was never meant to – I told you – ”

“Oh, I know.” Q shook his head just slightly, the lament clear. “If ithelps, it isn’t your fault, Jean-Luc. You really were perfectly upfront.”

He paused, essence threatening to shatter, gaze drilling into the human��s.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Picard murmured immediately, understanding that the offer wasn’tunique to his dream, “but I need… time, Q. Perhaps the concept of the cosmoshasn’t only narrowed for you, my friend.”

A thrill shot through the god’s spirit, and he barely suppressed abeam, instead settling for a soft smile – gods only knew he didn’t wish toappear smug.

“Alright.” He breathed softly, delight curling through his spirit. “Igenuinely didn’t think –”

“Nor me, but apparently you’ve somehow wormed your way in,” Picardadmitted dryly, warm expression belying his caustic tone. “I’m… willing toconsider the notion, Q, but that’s all I can offer as yet. There will be rules,of course –”

“Naturally.” The sarcasm held no bite whatsoever, distant starsexhausting their chemical supply under his joy. “It is you, after all.”

Their gazes drifted to the vineyard, both comfortably silent for a longmoment even as the question itched at Q’s mind.

“So, Captain, how long do you think –?”

“Q,” Picard interrupted coolly, “shut up. I’m trying tosleep.”

He leaned back against the lounger and closed his eyes, his loverlaughing softly.

“There isn’t anyone else in this universe I’d stay quiet for, you know.”

An eyelid partly opened, its look humbled – the cynical, desperatelyhopeful part of Q could almost call it tender.

“I’m glad.”

By mutual agreement, they reached out a hand, lacing them together,grins identical as they simply basked in the ambience of rural France, and thecontentment of being united.

#qcard #prompt #mini fic #all of the feels!#q #picard

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