#ltbroccoli
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Barclay is important to Enoch. To all of the holos, really, although Enoch was the one who pushed to get to know their holographers in the first place. He'd let them send a message out to them on the off chance they'd respond because, well, what harm could it do? He didn't expect anything to come of it. But it's been a while now since 'Reg' and the holos started semi-regular contact (depending on availability and sometimes distance), and besides Barclay saving the holos when Sirena's emergency holographic systems were attacked -- something Cris is very grateful for -- Cris hasn't had much contact with him specifically.
But he's important to Enoch, and he'd promised him he'd try to get to know him a bit. Which is why they were now in this incredibly awkward social situation. Rios figured Barclay's too nervous and awkward to be much of a people person. Rios wasn't much of one himself, either, and yet here they were. "So how's... uh... work?" Rios was not good at small talk.
#ltbroccoli#hope this works#let me know if you want something else#but have our babies being awkward as they attempt to be social#Reg#Barclay
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Longing tooth and soul , longing for another win
Jean-Luc has been around for nearly a century. It's oddly stunning to realize this, with his mind as sharp as it's ever been, but it is nonetheless true. Still, it's a drop in the bucket compared to many other long-lived species. He's met Trill symbionts twenty-thousand years strong. To say he's surprised he can be surprised would be frankly asinine; he's not that old. But he is surprised. Let's start at the beginning.
It's a new day, and they're inducting an old friend back into the Federation, always a cause for celebration. Rigel V has been screaming at the wall for a better part of thirty years, after Kar'vanh, after the Ko'jan Trials. Where Commander Tayja Cassan was convicted of war crimes including genocide, crimes of aggression and the use of minors as combatants revealed the seedy underbelly of Rigelian society that still saw slavery practiced, that saw children bought and sold as commodities. Having grown up with Kaira, Jean-Luc was no stranger to the atrocities that man wrought upon one another, but nonetheless, it left a bitter taste in the Federation's mouth. Their status was knocked back to provisional, there was infighting amongst infighting, with staunch traditionalists claiming the Federation was as good as the Borg, assimilating us all, destroying our culture. Amidst all of that, Rigel had to rebuild, and so it did. Lieutenant Alex Grayson (a cryptolinguist now, but was once a formidable intelligence operative in the Treshan-system), once Alak Saveih, and his father Jaeihan, are instrumental in bridging the gaps. It's an intricate process, and today is the day they will commemorate Rigel's commitment to ensuring full integration and compliance with broader Federation laws, and there's no better place for it than Tir'Aresh Memorial Hospital. And so, Jean-Luc awoke today intending on donning his dress uniform and proclaiming a few words on the merits of rehabilitation and social integration, but what greets him in the mirror - resoundingly shocks him. Because it's not him at all. "Good lord," he whispers, a voice not his own. He's wearing striped pajamas and even little footy slippers. A small smile tugs at his face even amidst the mounting panic - it is cute. Lips pressing together, he makes a calculation and then moves to Lieutenant Barclay's comm terminal. "Raise Captain Picard," Reginald's voice calls out. He quite suspects he knows what he'll find on the other side of the line, and sure enough, when the video filters through, it's his own face staring back. "Mr. Barclay, you've aged well." A gentle jest, eyes crinkled. His own eyes. This was going to be a problem.
#[ caligula would grin . ]#the worst is not so long as we can say / verses#ltbroccoli#the evil that men do lives after them / closed
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Nat just smiled as Lt. Barclay agreed with him, noticing that the man seemed to realise that blindly trusting the computer's diagnosis for himself might not be a good thing. Though, he doubted this would be the last time this happened anyway. That was okay. Nat would be here next time too.
"Of course. I would never kick out a patient," he replied as he put the loaded hypospray against Barclay's neck and released the medicine. Maybe he was too kind? Some definitely thought so, but Nat didn't care. Patients should feel safe and comfortable coming here, not fearing judgement or being kicked out. Sure, during emergencies, that might happen, but today had been unusually calm.
"I came onboard while the ship was docked at the last station, so I haven't been here long. I'm Lieutenant Nathanael Hunt and also, of course, a Medical Doctor. Half-Bajoran, but grew up on Earth," he added, knowing the man might recognise his nose ridges. Although the growing up on Earth part might be unnecessary and not even something the other was interested in.
âWell⌠well, noâŚâ That was a fair point. He wouldnât blindly trust a diagnostic in engineering without verifying it for himself, so why would he do the same for his own body? Still, the computer could do better to not terrify him.
ââŚcould I stay here?â he asked timidly, even though the man had just said that he could. Reg had gotten himself worked up into a bit of a frenzy â he could use the time to cool off. âI havenât â havenât seen you in here before,â he added. By now heâd figured out which medical officers tolerated him more than the others, but he hadnât spotted this particular one yet.
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"I am Seven of Nine. I am alone. But I will adapt."
Independent & semi-selective Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager & Picard. Open to most other Trek series. Crossover, AU, and OC friendly. Written by Jeanette. Sideblog to @ltbroccoli.
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WHAT COLOR IS YOUR AURA? Chiffon
stone walls, sweaters, moths, dusty lace, animal tracks, incense, throw pillows. your essence is chiffon: your soft heart disarms those who meet you. you willingly swallow your feelings for everyone else; it is easier to hide your sensitivity. you may be a mirror, reflecting the best back at others, and not knowing quite who you are inside. you are the compromiser. you are the recaster. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of ashen, hickory, brown, and grey, who act with patience. you are also drawn to the cheerful orchid and honey, who will help you grow and discover what actually makes you happy. however, you may struggle to get along with the wild-hearted personalities of mauve and terracotta who act on their whims.
tagged by ; @afemininemystique tagging ; @ensnchekov @my-timing-is-digital @ltbroccoli , you there! french boy!
#the breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack / meme#so long lives this and this gives life to thee / character study
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What Kind of Herb Are You?
Garlic
You leave an impression wherever you go. Your heart is so strong, so determined, so willing to go after whatever hole you see in the world, whatever wound you need to fix next. You're there. You're justice, hot red and pure gold, fairness incarnate, a paladin in shining armor come to protect and cleanse and heal and yet sometimes you wonder if you're the most corrupt, dirty being in the world, a fraud, a monster in hero's clothing. The world is so intense and you are so small, so fragile, and no matter how hard you try you're never good enough. You want to be good. You want to be good enough. You try so hard and yet the world is so dark and angry and cruel. Perfection is always just out of reach and you want things to be okay so bad you bleed with it. You just want things to be right, to be good, to be fair, but you don't know if they ever can be. If you can ever be.
Tagged by: @ltbroccoli
Tagging: @goldentemplariumcrow, @lostxndbroken, @grace-of-gotham, @onmylaurels + anyone interested
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@ltbroccoli tumblr has something against me and pav apparently ajsoskdhdkxj
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Do you have any rp blogs of your own on here? I'd love to see, if you're comfortable with sharing?
I'm mainly on @ltbroccoli and @oftomorrow at the moment.
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@ltbroccoliâ // Lt. Barclay ;;Â
Data had gotten away from running his sleep program as of late. At first, the dreams and imagery that came to his neural net while he was âasleepâ were exciting and unfamiliar and made for very interesting mysteries into his own psyche. But very quickly he determined the algorithm from which they were designed was rather straightforward. Data dreamt about things that he had experienced recently. It was simply a way for his mind to process all the input that had been prioritized lower throughout the day. He more more and more often he just...wanted to stay awake. After all, the program was only for him, and he didnât have to prove he could sleep to anyone. He was more Human now than ever before, and with it came the urge to stay up late doing entertaining things combined with the frustration that came from not being able to find something entertaining enough. So many of his nights were either spend on the bridge or in his quarters doing exactly what he was doing now. Nothing. Or at least it seemed like nothing to him. He was sitting at his workbench, tinkering with a broken console he had taken from Engineering. It was displaying very odd behaviors, and for some reason, Data had not been able to solve the issue. He nudged Spot with his foot gently as she rubbed against him, chirping loudly for attention. âNot now, Spot,â Data said, not looking up from his work.
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Narrow View
(moved from here)
@ltbroccoli
âNarrow? You... you think the Federation worldview is... narrow?â Reg blinked -- he knew Liz didnât hold the Federation in the highest regard, but that was still harsher than he expected. âCan... can I ask... why...?â
Oh dear, that was a very complicated answer. One Liz was certain couldnât be summed up in a simple, easily digestible way. Maybe, she thought, it would have been better not to say anything at all. Reg could be a bit fragile and she had been a bit harsh. But, on the other hand, he needed to see the truth sooner or later.Â
âBecause it is. Itâs not something that only I think. Itâs a fact. An observable, proven fact. Thatâs like asking why I think the twinkly lights in the night sky are actually giant balls of burning gas.â She did try to be gentle. Shattering someoneâs bubble was rarely gentle work, however. âHow about this - as briefly as you can, sum up the Cardassians. Tell me what you think theyâre like. As a people. Not just what they physically look like.â
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get to know the author !
name: Shayne
pronouns: He/him.
preference of communication: Oh, anything goes. IMs, DMs (my Discord is Weemie#2844 and I love new friends!)
most active muse: At the moment, Jean-Luc Picard.
experience / how many years: Oh, like, well over 20 years. I'm an old bean.
platforms you use: Tumblr, Discord, AO3.
best experience: My favorite experiences are when we can collaborate and publish on AO3 in a whole coherent story. But I love Tumblr RP equally because it's so free-form and I'm a dude who loves RPing without limitations or restrictions.
rp pet peeves: Arbitrary rules and limits, lack of diversity. People who say shit like "no Mary Sues" unequivocally. I'm like, give me your crazy-ass characters! Write things you enjoy writing! I want you to be excited about your characters, I want them to matter.
fluff, angst, or smut: Oh, anything goes. I love it all.
plots or memes: I usually turn memes into plots, heh.
long or short replies: I've been experimenting with more long-form replies, but I am primarily an action/dialogue writer, so it is new for me to write multi-para. I hope I'm doing a good job! But as for the replies of my RP partners, I could not care less as long as I understand it and as long as you give me something meaty to respond to.
definitely prefer best time to write: Any time! I'm most active in the mornings when I take my medicine and it kicks in, since I am in less pain.
are you like your muse(s): As I mention in my other blog over here, I do tend to write what I know. I deal with PTSD and moral injury on a personal basis, so I enjoy exploring these themes in art. tagged by ; @lettherebemonsters ( thank you kindly ! ) tagging ; @aftermidnightmuses @ensnchekov @my-timing-is-digital @ltbroccoli @friendly-space-speechie @iamselfmade and you there ! french boy !
#we are resolved into the supreme air / ooc#the breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack / meme
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Liz blinked once slowly and took a deep breath, trying to process all of that.
"Reg," she started slowly. "My love, my heart, light of my life... I have been gone for less than an hour."
Not that there was any amount of time short enough to feel safe in the belief that her family hadn't managed to fall into complete chaos. Reg would, certainly, insist they got that from her. Liz was less certain after being married to him for a long time.
"Girls," she turned her attention to Charlotte and Victoria. "Go finish writing up your notes in your own room. Subjects aware they're under observation will alter your test results. Everyone knows that."
"Is there any particular reason Sof is trying to kill the couch?" Liz looked back at Reg, feeling a headache blooming behind her eyes.
@nashforhire ( starter call )
"So," Reg began, his voice barely audible over the shouts and grunts of their daughter in the next room, and what sounded like breakup music blaring from behind Ollie's closed door. "Sof is attacking the couch with her bat'leth. Ollie is pouting in his room because the boy he likes is already dating someone. And the twins are..." He trailed off, turning to look at them huddled together in the corner, typing hurriedly away into a PADD. "...I think they're taking notes on us for future study."
With that, he stepped forward to give Liz a quick kiss on the cheek. "Welcome home. Love you. Sorry, should have started with that."
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I am Seven of Nine. I am alone. But I will adapt.
Independent roleplay for Star Trek's Annika Hansen / Seven of Nine. Canon compliant, but open to plotted divergence from Picard. Established April 2023. Sideblog to @ltbroccoli.
Important Pages: RULES ¡ ABOUT ¡ VERSES
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@ltbroccoliââ
  Siriseâs never really wished for her tongue back, but right now, she thinks the strange weight on the bottom of her mouth would be welcome.
  Itâd be welcome, so she could talk through the door.Â
  Because, of course, a person with no tongue canât speak through a sealed door and tell whoever it is to go away, to leave her be. And maybe itâs not even a function of being mute â maybe itâs just a function of being a doctor, forever in servitude, even though all of her edges are sharp and venomous.Â
  The door opens, and Sirise stands there in an oversized sweater with a turtleneck collar, a favorite of hers. Her hair sits atop her head in a messy bun, and thereâs a streak of green on her cheeks that looks suspiciously like Orion blood.Â
  Her eyes are flat, unfascinated by the interrupting. Itâs Reg, bent like a small child even though he towered above most. Like always.Â
  âWhat?âÂ
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Current threads waiting for replies
@grace-of-gotham - Nat listening to an upset Grace.
@lostxndbroken - Startled Nat.
@ltbroccoli - Not the Denobulan Flu.
@oftomorrow - Clark to the Rescue.
@whydotheykeeptakingmine - Birthday stuff
@xxofloveandlossxx - Diner meeting
If you're waiting for a reply that's not in this list, let me know and I'll check what's going on. Also let me know if you want to drop something.
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