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I wrote into my concept of the Q Continuum that there is an equivalent to paperwork they have to do, and Q is very bad at getting around to doing it.

****

"Where are we? Exactly? Is this planet even real?"

"Of course it's real." Q looked offended. "Everything I make is real. What do you think I am, a holoprogrammer?"

"I mean, is it really a planet, in our universe?"

"It's really in your universe, it really is a planet, and it's attached to a real solar system, which was here for the last several billion years. I admit I made the planet for you, but I think it's actually an attractive accoutrement to the system. This star didn't have one in the carbon-life-friendly orbital zone, so I added one. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to explore it. And I'm not sure I see the point to exploring it when you made it."

"I could give you the documentation, but you probably couldn't read my handwriting," Q said. "Also, I have to confess..." He leaned forward conspiratorially and half-whispered. "I'm really bad at documentation. I'm more of a kind of wing-it-as-you-go sort of Q, you know?"

"I'd never have guessed," Janeway said dryly.

"It's true," Q said mournfully. "One time, I created this planet, and then I forgot to log it, and no one indexed the auto-records, so Q told the people who worshipped him to travel to this sector to the Promised Land, and they ran into my planet first and mistook it for his Promised Land, because of course I hadn't logged it, so he didn't realize it was there until his people got there... and it took him approximately twenty thousand years to get them to leave and go to the planet he'd meant for them to go to. He's still not talking to me." He sighed. "It was a really nice planet, though."

****

"Oh, for the love of… you want me to write you an impact analysis before I do anything. I might as well still be in the Continuum, submitting reports in triplicate!"

Picard merely looks at him. "You're free to refuse the deal and go anywhere else in the universe you'd like if I give you terms you feel you can't or don't want to meet."

Q sighs, making sure everyone knows how put-upon this makes him feel. "Fine. I will give you the impact analysis. Happy?"

"Does the Continuum actually make you submit reports in triplicate?" Riker asks, in a "you're putting us on" voice. "Seriously?"

"Seriously… they aren't in triplicate. Otherwise, no, I'm not making this up. Any action you want to take, you've gotta research what the possible consequences could be, and report it to the rest of the Continuum. Although I can't see how I could write the same kind of report for you… your tiny little brains couldn't handle it. I mean, I can't very well give you a report with the memory of running a 4,000 year simulation attached to it."

"No, I imagine that the format the Q can accept information in would be very different than the formats we can work with. But you have proven to be a creative entity. I think you can manage," Picard says.

****

The Tree had the power to do things he was forbidden to do, things he desperately wanted done but could not be seen, by Celestia or the Continuum, to be behind. With the Tree shut down by plunder vines, almost dead, its usual safeguards were shut down. He could insert something deep into its underlying programming, and only a Q engineer carefully debugging the thing would have any way of knowing it had been tampered with, and even they wouldn't be able to tell exactly what he had done. The Tree had been built by mortals and two Lesser Powers, and they'd made their own modifications to the construction and configuration spells he'd given them to do it with, and he'd sort of forgotten to log the analysis of the Tree after construction with the Continuum, so no Q actually knew what its original programming even looked like. Except him, because he was looking at it now.

****

why yes, that last one is a crossover with My Little Pony where Q is Discord, glad you noticed

We don’t talk enough about how fanfiction writers love to give character large amounts of non-specific paperwork they hate doing

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When I was their age I was so happy and excited to see grown ass women with kids writing fanfic; it meant I didn't have to give up the hobbies I loved, I didn't have to become a completely different person just because I was growing up.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

People seem to not know how old writers are when they make their stories.

Stephanie Meyer wrote Twilight in 2003, at age 29

Cassandra Clare started writing Mortal Instruments in 2004, at age 31

Rick Riordan published Percy Jackson & the Olympians, the book about 12yrolds, at age 41

George R. R. Martin published A Game of Thrones, at age 48

You can't even use the "but fanfiction isn't real writing" argument because of how many fanfiction turn movies there is. They are clearly enough of a story to be made into published books.

Anna Renee Todd's After series was a Harry Styles fanfiction, which was published in 2014, when she was 25

E.L. James Fifty Shades of Grey series was a Twilight fanfiction, which was published in 2011, when she was 48

Mortal Instruments was a Harry Potter fanfiction.

Why must they act like After someone turns 20 their life ends, like people can't have hobbies???

[kaleidolon]

Some people have a shoulder demon and a shoulder angel. I have a shoulder demon and a shoulder horrible goose:

And here they were as I carried them through the cold, snuggling into my coat:

Yes, that's my real hat. Yes, it's awesome. No, you can't have it, get your own.

[kaleidolon]

A Night Of Comedy With T'Chell (incomplete)

Someone posted about Vulcans in improv comedy troupes, and I started thinking about Vulcans in stand-up comedy.

This isn't finished but I'm sharing it to find out if, in fact, any of this is funny.

***

Thank you for having me here. Thank you. I’m grateful for the opportunity to appear before all of you, but I do wonder why you are here. This was billed as a night of stand up comedy, and everyone knows Vulcans aren’t funny.

It has actually been my life ambition to perform comedy on stage. So I have studied extensively for this career. I enrolled at a university here on Earth, and researched jokes. I would then approach Humans, such as my roommate, and ask them to explain to me why this joke was funny.

In such a manner, I discovered that a surprising number of Humans have an unexpectedly poor memory for their prior engagements. Ninety-seven point three eight percent of the time, the Human I was consulting would suddenly recall a previously scheduled event that they had to leave to attend, or some sort of matter relating to health or hygiene.

I also had no idea that painting one’s toenails held such cultural significance to Humans. On four separate occasions, the Human I was consulting was required to leave immediately, claiming a critical need to paint their toenails. Apparently this is an important tradition here on Earth.

My parents, of course, were opposed to my choice of career. They presented me with multiple options for a career they found more respectable, such as becoming a space pirate, or the concubine of a Tellarite ambassador. They were particularly hopeful that I might instead pursue a vocation in sanitation, or become a tribble breeder. But I was firm in my ambition.

As you might imagine, comedy is not well-respected on Vulcan, although we do have the concept. My mother, in fact, has an embroidered hanging as a wall decoration in her kitchen, which states, “Those who spend all their time examining their own logic really ought to have their logic examined.”

It’s funnier in the original Vulcan.

Comedy, at its root, is generated by a number of factors, among them surprise and taboo. Many jokes work by setting up expectations in the audience, and then violating those expectations. Most Vulcans dislike this, because they expect a certain logical order to speech. If I were to say, “Since coming to Earth, I’ve acquired a magnificent collection of partial sea creature shells. They’re scattered all over the beaches on the planet,” my parents would object to this because it is a lie, and as we all know, Vulcans cannot tell lies. They would also object to it because it’s plagiarism, as Steven Wright in the 20th century first created that joke. Actually, that is a lie. My parents would not recognize the work of Steven Wright if it was converted to holographic form, was flashing bright purple, and danced up to them singing the various comedic quips he wrote. Especially since this would be a very poor interpretation of the work of Steven Wright, which was, for a human, surprisingly reliant on deadpan presentation and emotional control.

By the way, in the room I shared at the Earth university I attended, there was a physical switch – one of those antique ones from the days when humanity didn’t yet have full voice control automation of their electric appliances. As one might expect, it did not seem to affect the lights, or anything else in the room, so my roommate and I would randomly toggle it from time to time. Then we received a communication from a man in Tunisia, who said, “stop that.”

No, I’m sorry, that is actually another joke by Steven Wright. I am comfortable with telling lies, but not with failing to give credit where it is due.

Perhaps I am a poor student of Surak, but I have never quite understood why telling lies is not considered logical. For instance, consider this situation. You, a child, wish to take apart the moisture collection and redistribustion system in your house, out of a natural scientific curiosity. Your parents have stymied that curiosity by forbidding you to do this. You wait until they are no longer in the house, and do it anyway. Unfortunately your skill at putting it back together is not equal to your skill at disassembling it. When your parents return, they find it in pieces. Why is it not logical to tell your parents that someone broke into the house, disassembled the system and tried to steal a part, whereupon you heroically attempted to nerve pinch them, but, being a child, you could not quite reach, so they were able to flee but had to leave behind the part they attempted to steal? If you were to tell the truth, you would be punished for disobedience, whereas by telling this lie, perhaps you will be seen as a hero, and receive praise for your actions.

The answer, by the way, is that this is a ridiculous and implausible story and your parents were easily able to see through your attempt at deception. But I remain convinced that the principle of telling lies to get out of trouble remains sound, and it was merely the execution that failed… that hypothetical Vulcan child who was certainly not me, as I would never have done such a thing.

Surprise and taboo. Humans do not expect to hear a Vulcan lying, which is surprising. Vulcans consider lying taboo, and Humans are aware of this. My research into humor suggests that from certain parties, taboo is surprise. For instance, when I first spoke to a Vulcan counselor at my Earth university, he explained to me, in Vulcan, why we have a phrase – generally only used by Vulcans who interact with humans – which translates as “the exact moment that you understand what the word ‘fuck’ is for.”

Among other things, it’s a fucking taboo and no one expects a fucking Vulcan to go around saying fuck.

That was cheap. I’m sure I can do a fuck of a lot better than that.

I feel that there is a significant cultural gap between Humans and Vulcans, and it is difficult for either of us to truly perceive the other. So I want you to picture this. Imagine, if you will, a Human. This Human dresses in extremely casual clothing, and possibly very little of it, but what little there is is most likely in bright and clashing colors. Their hair is long and not well-kempt. They have multiple piercings in various facial organs, and perhaps some in other organs that you might see, if you look, given how little clothing they’re wearing. They are singing. Loudly, and off-key. Perhaps they are pretending to play a guitar. Not a holographic guitar… a completely imaginary guitar. Perhaps, as they play their imaginary guitar, they are throwing their head back and forth, making it difficult to distinguish their features, as their long and ill-kempt hair is flying back and forth. Imagine, furthermore, that this Human has ingested various substances with psychoactive effects, and that this is a habit they indulge frequently.

That is how Vulcans perceive me.

Generally, of course, I do not imbibe psychoactive substances. Vulcans are largely impervious to alcohol; you may know that the reason Romulan ale is technically forbidden in the Federation is not that we are in a state of cold war with Romulans, but rather that it is both of significantly higher proof than most Human alcoholic beverages, and is spiked with other psychoactive substances that have a greater effect on Vulcanoids than alcohol does. So when my Human friends at university invited me out on a pub crawl, I found the experience somewhat tedious. I’m barely able to taste alcohol, which renders many of the beverages that rely on it somewhat tasteless, or actively distasteful. Wine in particular is disappointing. Grape juice is flavorful and has a pleasant kick to it. Wine tastes like the grape juice was watered down and made somewhat sour.

Then they offered to take me to an establishment that serves ice cream.

Vulcan, as you know, is very, very hot, and very, very dry. Throughout all of our history, we have craved substances that are cool and wet. Particularly if they have a high caloric value, which ice cream certainly does. I would not have missed this for anything short of an earthquake, and, had there been an earthquake, I would certainly have gone back for the ice cream after the quake was over.

This establishment maintains only 31 flavors in the replicator at a time, for obscure reasons involving ancient Human traditions. I decided, in the interests of science, to take a sample from each. So I ordered one scoop of each of the 31 flavors.

I only remember the first four. They were: Rocky Road, Mint Chocolate Chip, Rainbow Sherbet, and Peanut Butter Swirl. I am told that I managed to consume twice that many, but I no longer remember those flavors, because, as it turns out, Vulcans get drunk on sugar. This is an important fact about my own physiology that I was unaware of, and I feel that Vulcans who come to Earth should be pre-emptively warned of this information before they leave the visitor center, or spacedock, or the ship they arrived in.

My roommate recorded video of the entire incident, but I was fortunately able to get them to delete the files. It only cost me an entire semester of transporter credits.

By the way, for any Vulcans who may be in the audience – I know, you don’t wish me to draw attention to your presence at a comedy show, but perhaps you should have worn less obvious hats over your ears – it is important that you know this. We are taught that, so long as we practice appropriate emotional suppression, we will have an advantage in negotiating with Humans, as they will be unable to tell what the stakes for us in the negotiation are. It turns out, this advantage is entirely negated when the Human knows you well. Apparently, Humans have the ability to smell desperation, or so I am informed. I am not entirely sure what desperation smells like, but Humans do have the ability to detect it in Vulcans that they know well, for example, that they room with.

Those transporter credits were very valuable to me.

Now I consume ice cream only in moderation. Perhaps only two scoops a week… day, and an average of three or four on weekends. It’s all right, I can stop eating ice cream any time I want. I’m considering switching to fruit, in fact. It’s not cold, nor is it essentially frozen liquid, but most fruits on Earth are full of sweet, juicy water. Juicy juicy water, with sweet fruity flesh. So much juice it dribbles down your chin… or would, if I were eating fruit profligately, which of course I am not.

The important thing is that I carry with me a video distortion field generator when I go to the ice cream place.

My counselor tells me that in Starfleet, they have a tradition of making Vulcan cadets eat pecan pie. This is a tradition going back to the first Vulcan who served on a Starfleet ship. But I find pecan pie somewhat disappointing. It is neither liquid, nor is it full of juice. Fruity juice water with sweet fruity taste.

Cherry pie, now. A la mode. That is… not disappointing. Particularly if the cherry pie is frosted.

For the record, I can state confidently that I have never been arrested for being drunk in public, nor have I ever played an imaginary guitar while throwing my lengthy hair back and forth, for the simple reason that my hair is cut short, as you can see. The traditional Vulcan haircut was supposedly worn by Surak, and many consider it unacceptable emotional vanity to wear a different haircut.

I did, at one point, wear my hair rather long. Earth is significantly colder than Vulcan, and it seemed logical to have more protection for my neck. Also, with long hair, it is possible to cover my ears, if I ever wished to try to impersonate a human, which of course I would never do. As it turns out, though, long hair needs to be brushed. Every day. Many times. I am willing to break with tradition when it is logical to do so, but not when it means I have to do more work.

Humans don’t typically think of Vulcans as lazy. But, in fact, working as quickly and efficiently as possible is logical, and also, results in performing less work. The truth is, Vulcans are strongly in favor of performing less work. Less work means more time to meditate. And taking time to meditate means that you can consider all the possible candidates for “Earth Idol” and calculate their various chances to win, and what actions you might take to improve your favorite candidate’s odds, such as creating holograms that exceed the sentience barrier so that they can get unique voting keys, which they will use to vote for your favorite candidate, because you programmed them that way. And then, having meditated on this potential course of action, you will reject it, because you are lazy and that sounds like a lot of work.

[kaleidolon]

I cant hear it but I can feel it. The thud comes for me as a very distinctly physical feeling.

It occurs to me that there are people who weren’t on this website in 2012 and therefore never saw the magical gif that you can actually hear:

It’s been over five years and that still impresses the hell out of me.

[kaleidolon]

I would know my OC Meg Santoro because her son is the same age as my child and they'd be attending the same elementary school. (She lives across from the daycare my kids attended. In a real house. No, I don't know who really lives there.) Meg is a transplant from New York City, I come from NY State, and her son might make friends with my kids, which would probably result in my meeting her every so often.

I'm an antisocial autistic weirdo. I wouldn't not get along with her, but unless we had some reason to get onto the topic of biology, which I have an interest in and she is an expert, we probably wouldn't talk much.

I always have trouble with those “would you and your favorite fictional character get along” questions honestly just because of a straight up lack of imagination on my part. Even if we lived in the same universe I can’t imagine why we’d be talking to each other. I work in marketing

[kaleidolon]

OK, everyone else is posting Threshold content, so here I go...

Kathryn Janeway is dead and well and existing within the Q Continuum. Q gives her a gift containing all of the memories from her time in the Delta Quadrant that she lost to amnesia or temporal loops, or which belonged to an exact double.

Tagging for Threshold Day because this includes what I personally think is a great explanation for why the whole thing happened.

This was based on the books up through "Before Dishonor" by Peter David, but completely ignores almost everything afterward. (I think I used, like, one brief scene from a Voyager novel after that.) In particular "The Eternal Tide" is not canon to this universe.

[kaleidolon]

Kathryn Janeway is dead and well and existing within the Q Continuum. Q gives her a gift containing all of the memories from her time in the Delta Quadrant that she lost to amnesia or temporal loops, or which belonged to an exact double.

Tagging for Threshold Day because this includes what I personally think is a great explanation for why the whole thing happened.

This was based on the books up through "Before Dishonor" by Peter David, but completely ignores almost everything afterward. (I think I used, like, one brief scene from a Voyager novel after that.) In particular "The Eternal Tide" is not canon to this universe.

[kaleidolon]

The last best hope.

The Judgement Day series takes the premise "What if Q's side lost the war in 'The Q and the Grey'". Humanity is trapped on Earth. The rest of the Federation and the ships left behind struggle to function. The Q survivors from the freedom faction try to find a way to continue the fight. Everything is terrible. This series is incomplete. I will post one every Tuesday during the Fanfic Reposting Project until I am out of them. I may start working on it again, no promises.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3, sometimes from ff.net, some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

Sosai X speaks of his creation, Berg Katse.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3, sometimes from ff.net, some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

Newt turns up in Rachel's bedroom at 5 in the morning. She has a story to tell. It's not a nice story.

[kaleidolon]

In Q Who?, Guinan said that she and Q had had dealings. What were some of those dealings?

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3, sometimes from ff.net, some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

A minor character's death is her greatest failure and greatest success. Spoilers for Incubator only.

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There are worse things than being a deaged amnesiac… much worse.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3, sometimes from ff.net, some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

Fluttershy has a nightmare.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3, sometimes from ff.net, some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

Judgement Day series:

AU based on "The Q and the Grey". Horror. A war of the gods should not be treated as a joke.

The Judgement Day series takes the premise "What if Q's side lost the war in 'The Q and the Grey'". Humanity is trapped on Earth. The rest of the Federation and the ships left behind struggle to function. The Q survivors from the freedom faction try to find a way to continue the fight. Everything is terrible. This series is incomplete. I will post one every Tuesday during the Fanfic Reposting Project until I am out of them. I may start working on it again, no promises.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3 though there are some in more obscure locations than that.

[kaleidolon]

The Galaxy Girls. Retelling of Mala's attempt to kill Anderson, expanded.

The Fanfic Reposting Project reposts one of my fanfics every day at 3 pm, generally from AO3 though sometimes from Fanfiction.net, like today, and maybe some weird places too.