#tng fic

[revolutionsoftheheart]

“We ended our relationship—” “Our romantic relationship. For the… the fifth time.” Five times Jean-Luc and Beverly tried to make it work.

[read five on ao3]

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (37/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 37

Logically, Beverly knows that no one she passes in the corridor could possibly know where she’s going, but she still feels rather conspicuous as she walks to Jean-Luc’s quarters, practically floating along, buoyed by her hopes for where the evening might end up.

When Jean-Luc cancelled dessert, she guessed something must have happened with Louis. Despite her request to be informed when Louis fell asleep, she wasn’t certain Jean-Luc would ask her to come over. Nevertheless, she watched the clock, growing more and more restless as the hours passed. When his message finally came, Beverly leapt from her chair, nearly forgetting to reply.

She reaches Jean-Luc’s quarters and goes to the door farthest from Louis’s bedroom. She knocks lightly and waits, smoothing first her hair, then her sweater. She’s just about to knock again, thinking she must have done it too quietly the first time, when the door slides open.

Most of Jean-Luc’s casual shirts are v-neck blouses that show off just enough of his chest to confirm a toned physique, but the one he’s wearing now is her favorite; it’s teal, and it gives his grey eyes a greenish hue that she finds appealing.

“Can I come in?” she asks—with a bit more of a purr in her tone than she intended, given that she doesn’t know what exactly happened with Louis and therefore doesn’t actually know what sort of visit this might me, regardless of her hopes.

His gaze rakes her from head to toe before he meets her eyes and smiles. “Of course.”

He moves aside so she can enter, and as she sweeps past him she notices that, while his smile is wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes, it seems strained, and his clothes are uncharacteristically…rumpled.

There are two glasses of wine on the coffee table, so Beverly crosses to the couch and sits down. Jean-Luc sits next to her, body angled so that their knees touch. Beverly reaches over and lays her hand on the knee resting against her own.

“Is Louis okay?”

Jean-Luc lets out a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitates, seemingly considering it, then shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin your mood. Or the evening.”

Which suggests that he wants a distraction.

And yet, she pushes.

“Jean-Luc.” It’s sharp enough for him to quickly snap his gaze to hers. “I’m here to listen. That’s what friends are for.”

“Is that all we are? Friends?” He raises an eyebrow. It’s teasing—his tone is teasing—but the way he swallows, the way his eyes flick back and forth between hers, is fragile.

“Well, I’m hoping we’re becoming more than friends”—she raises her own eyebrow challengingly— “but that’s what we’re still working out, isn’t it?”

She expects him to continue this cautious yet playful little dance they’re doing, but instead he’s suddenly serious.

“Are we foolish for even attempting this?”

No, she thinks defiantly.

She’s willing to move forward as slowly as Jean-Luc needs, but she absolutely refuses to go backwards, to let him retreat.

Beverly knows this might not work out—and that would be painful, but she can’t imagine Jean-Luc doing something to purposely hurt her that would make her not want to remain his friend. It would be awkward, naturally, and it would take time to learn how to be friends again after being lovers—and Beverly very much intends for them to be lovers—but if Will and Deanna can do it, Beverly believes she and Jean-Luc could too.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is foolish,” she says. “I think we were foolish for letting our fears hold us back for so long.”

She lifts her hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch, his eyes closing and his features smoothing out, the strain she witnessed earlier draining away. Gently, she strokes his cheekbone with her thumb. “If it’s too difficult for you right now to balance us and Louis, we can—”

His eyes fly open. “No.” His gaze is steady. “That’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

His lips part, but before he can speak, there’s a sound from Louis’s room—a quiet, pained moan. Jean-Luc is up and moving immediately. Beverly almost follows but remembers herself at the last moment and remains on the couch.

Louis may like her, but she’s not his parent; Jean-Luc is. Jean-Luc is his father and his safe place and the only thing he needs to see when waking up scared and confused from a nightmare.

That knowledge doesn’t stop the longing. She misses being needed the way Louis needs Jean-Luc. She misses having someone to take care of like that. She misses Wesley. She misses being a mother.

(She’s obviously still a mother, but it’s different when your child’s an adult.)

To distract herself from the longing, she sips her wine. Half of her attention is on Jean-Luc’s voice in Louis’s room—low and soothing—and the rest of her attention wanders the room, snagging on two items that are very out of place: a set of thin rectangular blocks that must be for building, and a marble maze.

That explains why Jean-Luc’s clothes are rumpled.

Beverly grins and tries to imagine him sprawled on the floor with Louis, building some elaborate castle with the blocks, or racing marbles. Whenever Jack played with Wesley, it was like he became a boy again himself. It’s hard to picture Jean-Luc being boyish.

She’s still grinning when Jean-Luc emerges from Louis’s room. He returns to the couch and lifts his wine glass from the table.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs before taking a sip.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Beverly readjusts, moving until their knees are once again touching. “Bad dream?”

Jean-Luc nods tiredly, shoulders slumping.

“Tell me what happened today,” she prompts softly.

He hesitates again. Beverly waits. Maybe she shouldn’t push. Maybe she should just give him the distraction he seems to want…

But then Jean-Luc takes a deep breath, takes another sip of wine, and proceeds to tell her about the holodeck, about Louis’s request that they eat dinner alone in their quarters.

“I think I may have pushed him into some things too soon,” Jean-Luc admits. “I thought a sense of normalcy would help, but I don’t think he was ready.”

Beverly’s heart clenches and she finds herself squeezing Jean-Luc’s forearm reassuringly; she knows returning to duty as soon as he was allowed is what helped him move on from both his assimilation and his week of torture, but Louis is just a boy, and he has more than one singular traumatic event to overcome—he has several years’ worth of them.

“You should take more time off,” Beverly advises.

Jean-Luc nods. “I will.”

He sips his wine but remains turned away, withdrawn.

“There’s something else,” Beverly says. “Something else is weighing on you.”

Jean-Luc smiles lopsidedly at being caught out, but stares at his glass for a long moment before answering. “I watched the other Data’s logs today.”

Oh.

“Worse than you expected?” she asks.

He nods again. “He suffered, Beverly. And I—I feel as if…” He trails off, grimaces. “I feel as if I should be suffering too. For not being there for him. For…being the one that caused it.”

“You didn’t cause it, Jean-Luc. And neither did the other you.”

Jean-Luc lets a breath out through his nose that sounds distinctly like disagreement—he still blames himself for what the Borg did through him, he’s still ashamed that he wasn’t able to resist them.

Stubborn, prideful man.

Abruptly, he shakes his head and turns towards her. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how I imagined the evening going. I’m not being very good company right now.”

She offers him a soft smile. “It’s alright. This is what being together is supposed to be like—sharing the good and the bad.”

She’s treated to another raised eyebrow and a teasing, “So we’re…together?”

Beverly flushes at her choice of words. They’re not anything yet. They opened a door, but they’ve yet to walk through it. This is only the threshold, and it’s going to take more than some kissing—delightful as it is—to determine what they are, to push this past the physical, past giving into their lust for each other.

But that will take time, and right now Beverly very much wants to give in to that lust. So she curves her lips into a coy smile.

“Aren’t we?” she asks. “Unless I’m mistaken, we both told each other last night that we” –she can’t make herself utter the word love— “have feelings for each other. And then we—”

“I remember.”

His voice is low and gravelly, his gaze sharp. There’s suddenly a tautness in the air between them, exactly like last night, exactly like that afternoon in sick bay. Beverly’s pulse quickens, and her skin warms in anticipation.

“Jean-Luc, I need you to be honest with me.”

“Always.”

“I need to know if what you want right now is to talk, or to be distracted.”

“You are not a distraction.”

“You know what I mean.”

He breathes in slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Right now, I would very much like to be with you, and to save the discussion concerning what happened to my son and what I’m going to do about it for a time when I do not feel so overwhelmed by it.”

Beverly nods. “Okay.”

He takes it for the permission it is and leans in to kiss her.

-/-

Picard’s worries melt away the instant his lips meet Beverly’s, but no sooner has he slid his hand along her jaw—coaxing her to tilt her chin back, change the angle of their kiss, deepen it—than he hears Louis cry out.

The sound pierces his soul.

He draws back, swipes his thumb against Beverly’s cheek apologetically. “Perhaps now isn’t the best time after all.”

He tries to remove his hand, but she covers it with her own, holding it in place.

“It might be a long night,” she says. “Why don’t I stay and keep you company?”

He grins, and presses another swift kiss to her lips before rising to go to Louis.

[misfit-mania-the-first]

Look, if you don’t hear from me until three months down the line

It’s because I found either DS9, TNG, Voyager, or all three for cheap at a secondhand store and have dived headfirst into oc fanfic creation on ao3

[mostly-natm]

Just two hardworking and professional Starfleet officers doing their duties with no funny business!

[wes-deactivate]

Title: Star Track: The Next Acceleration - "Race Through Time"

A detailed screenplay of an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, set in the cinematic universe of Pixar's Cars franchise. When a character appears, give a brief description of their Cars persona. Create puns of the original characters' names to name the Cars equivalent.

Teaser:

In the vastness of space, the starship Entreprise-95 cruises through the galaxy, captained by Jean-Luc Pickard, a sleek, silver sports car with a confident and wise air. This vessel carries a crew of unique vehicles from all corners of the universe, seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no car has gone before.

ACT I

EXT. SPACE - THE ENTREPRISE-95

The Entreprise-95 glides gracefully through space, its engine hums as it sails into the cosmic unknown.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

The bridge is filled with the crew working diligently at their stations.

At the helm is Wheeliam T. Riker, a tall, blue SUV with broad shoulders and a well-groomed front grille. He is the dependable, cool-headed First Officer.

Next to him is Dataway, an advanced android car with a sleek, streamlined body and a metallic gold paint job. He is the ship's Operations Officer and is known for his incredible intelligence and curiosity about the human experience.

At the tactical station stands Worfshift, a powerful, black and red muscle car with a Klingon heritage. He has a fierce exterior and sports a custom grille designed to resemble a Klingon warrior's armor.

Tiresly Crusher, the ship's Medical Officer, is a stylish red convertible with a brilliant mind and a compassionate heart. She's attending to the health of the crew while maintaining her charm.

At the communications station, we see Geordi LaForge GT, an innovative, yellow sports car with futuristic, high-tech visor that grants him unparalleled vision. He is the ship's Chief Engineer and an expert in all things mechanical.

In the captain's chair sits Jean-Luc Pickard, a sleek, silver sports car with a confident and wise air. He commands the ship and crew with unmatched grace and diplomacy.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

(voiceover)

Captain's log, stardate 47318.2. We are en route to the Felisian System to investigate reports of a temporal anomaly. Starfleet has ordered us to determine its origins and assess any potential threat to the quadrant.

Suddenly, the ship jolts, and the crew braces for impact.

WORFSHIFT

Captain, we've been hit by an unknown energy wave.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Status report!

DATAWAY

Sensors indicate that the energy wave is a temporal distortion, similar to the anomaly we are investigating.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

Captain, the wave has caused significant damage to our warp drive. We're currently running on impulse power.

TIRESLY CRUSHER

I'm picking up multiple injuries throughout the ship. We need to attend to them immediately.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Understood, Doctor. Dataway, begin analyzing the energy wave. We need to determine its origin and how to protect the ship from any further damage. Worfshift, assist the doctor with the injured crew members. Geordi, repair the warp drive as quickly as possible.

The crew quickly gets to work, each attending to their tasks. The ship is under immense pressure as they attempt to unravel the mystery of the temporal anomaly.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - SICKBAY

Tiresly Crusher and Worfshift work tirelessly to treat the injured crew. Among the injured is Deanna Troicar, the ship's Counselor, and a sleek, purple luxury vehicle. She has an empathic ability, which allows her to sense the emotions of others.

WORFSHIFT

Counselor Troicar, are you alright?

DEANNA TROICAR

I'll be fine, Worfshift. But I can sense that the crew is on edge. The energy wave has affected more than just the ship.

WORFSHIFT

We must stay focused on our tasks. We will get through this.

DEANNA TROICAR

You're right. We need to stay strong and united.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - ENGINEERING

Geordi LaForge GT and his team of engineers work diligently to repair the warp drive. Sparks fly and engines whirr as they race against time to restore the ship's capabilities.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

(over communicator)

Captain, we've managed to repair the warp drive, but it's going to take some time before we can safely engage it.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

(over communicator)

Understood, Geordi. Keep me informed of your progress.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

Dataway continues his analysis of the energy wave, while the rest of the crew maintains their stations, awaiting further instructions.

DATAWAY

Captain, I have completed my analysis of the energy wave. It appears to have originated from a nearby star system. The temporal distortions are consistent with the use of a highly advanced time-travel technology.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Could this be connected to the anomaly we were sent to investigate?

DATAWAY

It is highly probable, Captain. The energy signatures are nearly identical.

WHEELIAM T. RIKER

If this is a result of time-travel technology, we may be dealing with a highly advanced civilization. We should proceed with caution.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Agreed. Set a course for the star system, Mr. Riker. We'll continue our investigation there.

As the Entreprise-95 slowly makes its way towards the mysterious star system, the crew braces for the unknown, uncertain of what lies ahead in their race through time.

——

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIEFING ROOM

The senior crew members gather around a table, where a holographic projection of the star system is displayed. Each character is equipped with specialized tools that extend from their bodies, allowing them to interact with the environment around them.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

We must be prepared for the possibility that the civilization responsible for these time distortions may not be friendly. It's crucial that we approach this situation with caution and diplomacy.

DATAWAY

Captain, I have analyzed the star system's composition, and I have detected a planet rich in a rare energy source called "Chronofuel." This element could be the key to their time-travel technology.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

That's fascinating, Dataway. If we could study this Chronofuel, it might help us better understand the time distortions and how to counteract their effects on our systems.

TIRESLY CRUSHER

We should also be cautious of any potential side effects of Chronofuel exposure on our crew. I'll run some simulations in the sickbay to prepare for any medical emergencies.

WHEELIAM T. RIKER

We'll need to establish contact with the inhabitants of this star system. Their knowledge of time travel could be invaluable to Starfleet.

DEANNA TROICAR

I agree, but we must also remember that they may not be receptive to our presence. As empathic vehicles, we should be ready to navigate any tense situations that may arise.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Very well. Let's proceed with caution and open communication. Dataway, can you establish a connection with the planet's inhabitants?

DATAWAY

I will attempt to do so, Captain.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

Dataway sends out a transmission to the planet, while the crew awaits a response. A video screen on the bridge flickers to life, revealing a group of vehicles unlike any they've seen before. Their designs are intricate, and they exude an air of wisdom and advanced technology.

ALIEN LEADER

(voice distorted)

Greetings, travelers. We are the Chrononauts, the guardians of the Chronofuel. What brings you to our corner of the universe?

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Greetings, Chrononauts. We come in peace, seeking to better understand the time distortions that have been affecting our ship and crew. We believe your knowledge of Chronofuel and time-travel technology may be of assistance.

ALIEN LEADER

We understand your plight. However, our technology is highly classified and protected. We must first evaluate your intentions and character before we can consider offering our assistance.

The crew exchanges glances, aware of the challenge that lies ahead. With their journey taking a twist into the unknown, they must prove their worth to the Chrononauts in order to unlock the secrets of Chronofuel and ensure the safety of the Entreprise-95.

——

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Very well, Chrononauts. We are willing to cooperate with your evaluation. We have nothing to hide and seek only to ensure the safety of our crew and other civilizations that may be affected by these time distortions.

ALIEN LEADER

We appreciate your willingness to cooperate. We will send a delegation to your ship to begin the evaluation process.

The transmission ends, and the crew prepares to receive the Chrononaut delegation.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - OBSERVATION LOUNGE

Captain Pickard and his crew await the arrival of the Chrononaut delegation. The doors hiss open, and a group of majestic alien vehicles enters the room. The crew exchanges formal introductions with the Chrononauts, who appear intrigued by the Entreprise-95 crew.

To break the ice and build rapport with their guests, Captain Pickard decides to share a rare, vintage bottle of WD-40 he has been saving for a special occasion.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

(gesturing to the bottle)

In the spirit of friendship and cooperation, I would like to share a fine vintage of WD-40 with our esteemed guests. This particular blend is known for its exquisite lubricating qualities and smooth finish.

ALIEN LEADER

(pleasantly surprised)

We are familiar with WD-40 and appreciate your gesture, Captain. It is not often we come across such a refined vintage.

As the WD-40 is served to the guests, the mood in the room becomes lighter, and the Chrononauts begin to relax. The crew engages in conversation with the alien vehicles, sharing stories and experiences from their adventures in space.

Meanwhile, Tiresly Crusher closely monitors the interaction, ensuring that the WD-40 does not have any adverse effects on the crew or their guests.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - ENGINEERING

While the meeting takes place, Geordi LaForge GT and Dataway work on analyzing the Chronofuel energy signatures. They hope to gain insight into how the technology works and possibly develop a way to counteract the time distortions.

DATAWAY

Geordi, I believe I have discovered a pattern in the energy signatures. If we can replicate this pattern, we may be able to create a stabilizing field around the Entreprise-95.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

That's excellent news, Dataway. Let's get to work on building a prototype.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - OBSERVATION LOUNGE

As the evening progresses, the crew and the Chrononauts develop a mutual respect and understanding. The Chrononauts are impressed by the integrity and dedication of the Entreprise-95 crew and ultimately decide to offer their assistance.

ALIEN LEADER

Captain Pickard, we have come to a decision. We are willing to share our knowledge of Chronofuel with you and help you counteract the time distortions affecting your ship.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Thank you, esteemed Chrononauts. We are grateful for your trust and assistance. Together, we can ensure the safety and well-being of countless civilizations throughout the galaxy.

With the alliance forged, the crew of the Entreprise-95 and the Chrononauts work together to unlock the secrets of Chronofuel and protect the galaxy from the perils of time distortion.

——

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

As the crew and the Chrononauts work together, an urgent alarm sounds, and the crew rushes to the bridge. The viewscreen displays an incoming transmission from an unknown source. The image flickers to life, revealing the Borg Queengine, a terrifying, cybernetic vehicle with an intricate network of mechanical and electronic components fused into her chassis.

BORG QUEENGINE

We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your vehicles. We will add your technological and vehicular distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile.

The crew exchanges looks of dread, recognizing the immense danger posed by the Borg.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

(to the Alien Leader)

The Borg are a relentless, assimilating force. They seek to consume all cultures and technologies in their path. We must stand together against them.

ALIEN LEADER

We understand the gravity of the situation, Captain. Our knowledge of Chronofuel may provide us with the means to counteract the Borg's advances.

WHEELIAM T. RIKER

We'll need every advantage we can get. The Borg are notoriously difficult to defeat.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - ENGINEERING

Geordi LaForge GT and Dataway, now joined by a team of Chrononaut engineers, work feverishly to adapt the Chronofuel technology to create a defense against the Borg.

DATAWAY

If we can modify the Chronofuel to create a temporal distortion field around the Entreprise-95, it may disrupt the Borg's ability to adapt to our defenses.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

It's risky, but it's our best shot. Let's get to work.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

As the crew prepares for the imminent confrontation with the Borg, Captain Pickard addresses his crew and the Chrononauts.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

The Borg have proven time and again that they are a formidable adversary. But today, we stand together, united in our pursuit of freedom and the preservation of our unique cultures. I have faith that we will overcome this challenge and emerge stronger than ever before.

With a renewed sense of determination, the crew of the Entreprise-95 and the Chrononauts work together to face the Borg Queengine, employing their combined knowledge and resources to protect their worlds from assimilation.

——

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - ENGINEERING

Geordi LaForge GT, Dataway, and the Chrononaut engineers finalize the modifications to the Entreprise-95's systems. They incorporate the Chronofuel technology to create a powerful temporal distortion field.

GEORDI LAFORGE GT

We've retrofitted the ship's axle arrays with Chronofuel injectors. Once activated, they will generate a high-frequency temporal distortion field around the Entreprise-95.

DATAWAY

Additionally, we have modified the ship's spark plug emitters to create a concentrated ignition pulse beam. This beam will be capable of disrupting the Borg's nanochip circuits, rendering their assimilation technology temporarily inoperative.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

The crew and Chrononauts man their stations as the Borg ship approaches. Captain Pickard gives the order to activate the temporal distortion field.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Activate the temporal distortion field. Prepare to fire the ignition pulse beam on my command.

The Entreprise-95 shimmers as the distortion field envelops the ship. The Borg struggle to adapt to the rapidly fluctuating time distortions.

WORFSHIFT

The Borg are attempting to adapt, but our temporal distortion field is causing their systems to malfunction.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

Now's our chance. Fire the ignition pulse beam!

A brilliant beam of energy bursts from the Entreprise-95, striking the Borg ship. The beam penetrates the Borg's defenses, overloading their nanochip circuits.

INT. BORG SHIP - BORG QUEENGINE'S CHAMBER

The Borg Queengine writhes in distress as her connection to the collective is disrupted. Her mechanical components spark and malfunction.

BORG QUEENGINE

(weakly)

This is... impossible.

INT. ENTREPRISE-95 - BRIDGE

The crew watches as the Borg ship suffers critical damage, ultimately retreating from the battlefield.

DEANNA TROICAR

The Borg are disoriented and withdrawing, Captain. It appears we have succeeded.

JEAN-LUC PICKARD

This victory would not have been possible without the invaluable assistance of our Chrononaut allies. Our combined knowledge and determination have proven that unity can overcome even the most formidable adversaries.

ALIEN LEADER

We are honored to have fought alongside you, Captain Pickard. Your crew's courage and resilience have earned our deepest respect.

As the Borg threat dissipates, the crew of the Entreprise-95 and the Chrononauts celebrate their victory, knowing that their unity and collaboration have saved countless lives and civilizations. The stars await their next adventure, as they continue to explore the final frontier.

FADE OUT.

THE END

[hexcii]

Chapter 2: Customer service

You try to run, to move, to just look away, to do anything.

You remain motionless.

The realization dawns on you, not only did you attract the attention of one wretched beast, you attracted two.

Fae Sun/Moon x Disabled Witch!Y/N

This chapter gets posted along with art oooo aaaaa

Read chapter notes/tags for warnings

Word count: ~8,900

[wonkyplate]

pov youre a terminal that keeps acting up when the chief and second officer are on shift

[kenconffetti]

He wasn't mentally prepared 😭🙏🙏 (x)

[iswateredible]

there is not enough Picard fanart on the internet and I am fuming

so naturally I did a study

[highflierexchange]

High Flier Exchange Sign-Ups Now Open!

We're excited to announce that sign-ups are now open for the High Flier Exchange!

The High Flier Exchange is a multifandom exchange involving fanworks about anyone who can fly (in a plane, by themselves, via spiderwebs, in air or in space. You get the idea.) Currently, we've heard interest from the following fandoms:

JAG

Marvel

Stargate

Star Trek

Top Gun

We welcome sign-ups from fic writers, fanartists, and vidders.

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We'd love to have you join us! Sign up on AO3 here! Once you've signed up, please follow this account and join our Discord (optional but encouraged!)

Exchange Schedule (all dates in US Eastern Time)

Sign-ups open: December 4 Sign-ups close: December 21 Prompts out: January 12 Check-in #1: February 1 Check-in #2: March 15 Assignments due: March 30 Works revealed: April 4

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For written works, the word minimum is 2000 words. There are no hard minimums for fanart or fanvids, but your work should be complete and represent a good-faith effort.

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[revolutionsoftheheart]

five [part 4: second chances]

Star Trek: The Next Generation/Star Trek: Picard Picard x Crusher

“We ended our relationship—” “Our romantic relationship. For the… the fifth time.” The fourth time Jean-Luc and Beverly tried to make it work.

Excerpt:

“I’ll accept the promotion to Admiral,” he repeats when the doors shut. “I won’t be your commanding officer anymore. I’ll be taken off the Enterprise. Worf’s ready for command.” His tone is so calm and matter-of-fact he sounds like he’s briefing his staff, not altering the course of their lives. Only his pacing betrays his nervousness. He continues without pausing, “Starfleet will think their persistence made me yield. Of course, we’ll have to adapt to a long distance relationship, but many in our situation manage just fine.”

He has to stop then to catch his breath. When he looks up at her, his eyes are filled with such hope her heart skips a beat. He’s clearly spent a lot of time thinking about this.

She needs a few seconds to catch up to him and take everything in.

She wills her heart to slow down. “What about Kirk’s advice?” She remains cool, in control of her emotions.

“What about it?”

“Are you sure you want to give up the chair? It means a lot to you.”

Jean-Luc takes a step forward, closing the distance between them slightly. “So do you.”

Read on AO3.

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (35/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 35

Picard sits in his chair on the bridge long enough to make his presence known, then he retreats to his ready room. There, he returns to the other Data’s logs.

It takes the rest of his shift to finish the remaining two years’ worth of recordings, and by the end he’s once again emotionally and mentally exhausted—but at least now he knows. Remembering Deanna’s advice from earlier, he uses the final half hour of his shift to clear his head, opting for relaxation as opposed to exhilaration this time to settle his mind.

It’s as if the entirety of his being is clenched tight as a fist, but gradually—his eyes closed, Chopin playing gently in his ears, the taste of Early Grey sweetened with sugar and lemon dissolving on his tongue—his thoughts loosen and wander.

There were bright spots amidst the darkness, moments where Louis appeared on screen with a smile to announce that it was his birthday (“I’m 7!”) or that he grew a full inch taller or that he lost a tooth (using two fingers to hook the corners of his mouth and pull it wide to reveal the gap where his two front teeth were missing).

Often, Louis wasn’t visible but his presence was evident in other ways: humming a tune in the background, interrupting Data to ask a question about his school work or the book he was reading, a sound that could only be him practicing the piano.

The worst is over, Picard tells himself. He can’t change the past, he can’t change what Louis went through; he can only control the here and now, help Louis recover, move forward.

Before he leaves, he checks for any messages from Deanna. As promised, she provided a list of toys for Louis but clarified that Louis should be the one to choose and that anything he chooses to play with that’s safe is technically fine. She concluded with a treatise on why Louis should have toys that takes Picard nearly ten minutes to read and leaves him feeling like a complete ass for not thinking to provide them sooner.

There’s a message from Will as well, and when Picard notices the timestamp his heart skips a beat and he moves immediately to the edge of his chair, poised to leap to his feet and run.

But the message merely informs him that Louis was briefly upset by an occurrence on the holodeck, and that he insisted he was okay, wanted to stay, and that Will is monitoring him closely.

As there’s no follow-up message, and as Picard was never paged, he assumes everything is fine.

Nevertheless, he walks more swiftly than is strictly necessary to Will’s quarters.

When Will calls for him to enter, Picard finds him and Louis sitting at Will’s dining table playing cards. Louis smiles at him, a bright, happy grin that warms Picard more thoroughly than a cup of tea or a glass of wine, a liquid warmth that seeps into his very soul.

And to think, there was a time when I believed I didn’t need this.

Gul Madred tried to diminish Picard, the Borg attempted to extinguish him entirely, and both times Picard resisted—he fought tooth and nail to remain himself, to hold onto his identity.

On Kataan, it was his choice to let go and become Kamin, become a husband and a father, become more. He embraced his return to the Enterprise, but he’s not the same person he was before Kataan.

Not deep down.

Deep down he knows that Louis’s smile is worth more than any accolade.

“What are we playing, gentlemen?” he asks.

Will and Louis have cards in their hands, the deck stacked face-down between them, and, at their elbows, cards lying face-up that seem to be paired by color and number.

“Go Fish, sir,” Will replies.

“But with poker faces,” Louis says.

As if to illustrate, both of their expressions go blank.

“I wasn’t aware a poker face is such a crucial part of Go Fish strategy,” Picard remarks.

“In this version it is,” Will explains. “In this version, when someone asks you for a card, you’re allowed to lie and say you don’t have it even if you do—but if your poker face isn’t good enough and they catch you, you have to reveal 3 of the cards in your hand.”

“That’s quite the motivation to tell the truth.”

“Or to have a very good poker face.” Will tilts his head towards Louis. “His isn’t too bad. He just needs some practice.”

“C'est ce que tu penses,” Louis murmurs, smirking at the cards in his hand.

That’s what you think.

Picard chooses not to translate that and instead asks, “Are you ready to go?”

Louis nods. To Will, he says, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.”

Louis lays his cards down and trots deeper into Will’s quarters. Will starts to stand, catches sight of Louis’s hand, and frowns. “For how long have you had that king?” he calls.

“Since the beginning!” Louis calls back.

Will chuckles and shakes his head. “I guess his poker face is better than I thought. I asked him for that king twice.”

“I suspect you have only yourself to blame for that,” Picard says dryly. “Or rather, your other self.”

Will grins. “That reminds me, sir. Have you considered my invitation?”

The poker game on Friday evening, the day before they’re scheduled to arrive at Earth.

Picard sighs. “I have, Number One. If it still stands—and if you’re certain it’s appropriate—we’ll be there.”

His first instinct was to refuse, until he reasoned that it would be a good distraction, a nice way to relax before reporting to Starfleet Command.

(A brief foray out of his comfort zone, for Louis’s sake.)

“I’ll make sure everyone’s on their best behavior,” Will promises. He glances to his left, then steps closer, and in a low voice, asks, “Did you get my message?”

“I did, and I must apologize—I didn’t see it until only a few minutes ago.”

“It’s alright, sir. If it had been an emergency, I would have paged you directly. I just wanted you to know what happened.”

“What did happen, exactly?”

“Well, he caught a fish” –Will stated he was taking Louis fishing when Picard dropped him off; he’s still in the flannel shirt and khaki trousers he donned for the occasion—“and when we got the fish out of the water…I don’t know, I think seeing it that way, knowing it’s dying…sometimes that’s hard for a little kid.”

There’s a crease between Will’s brows, tension in his posture. He’s worried about Louis, Picard guesses, but also worried how Picard might judge him.

“Commander,” Picard says, sternly but quietly. “I want to make it clear that I trust you.”

“Sir?”

“With Louis, I mean. What happened today in no way diminishes that trust.”

Will couldn’t have predicted that the sight of a dying fish would upset Louis. Picard would not have anticipated it either.

“Thank you, sir,” Will says. “I’m still happy to watch him whenever you need me to.”

“I appreciate your help, Number One.”

Appreciate is not nearly a strong enough word. That Louis felt safe enough with Will to stay with him speaks volumes. Picard must allow that relationship to grow—even if it means that he must also cultivate a more personal relationship with Will, daunting as it is to cross a line he hasn’t crossed as a commanding officer since Jack Crusher.

When Louis returns from the bathroom, they say their goodbyes and then Picard ushers him into the corridor—where they run directly in Deanna.

She’s clearly surprised to see them, but she masks it quickly with a smile. “Hello again.”

“Hello,” Louis replies cheerfully.

Will pokes his head into the hallway. “You’re here early.”

“I thought you might want some help preparing dinner,” Deanna says, tone stunningly neutral.

Will grins. “You don’t trust me to pick what we’re eating, do you?”

“No.” It’s succinct, matter-of-fact, and somehow not impolite.

Louis looks back and forth between them. “You’re friends?” he asks.

“Yes, friends,” Deanna and Will answer simultaneously, their voices in perfect sync.

Louis’s gaze flick back and forth one more time, taking in Will’s carefully blank expression, Deanna’s casual attire and her hair, which seems different than usual though Picard can’t pinpoint how. The boy’s eyes narrow, and Picard knows precisely what’s coming and clears his throat loudly before they’re all plunged into a very awkward situation.

“Well, have a good evening you two,” he declares, giving Louis a pointed nudge in the direction of the Turbolift.

In their quarters, they both change for dinner, Picard out of his unfirm and Louis into something not grass-stained, but when Picard moves for the door, Louis lingers near their dining table.

“Can we eat in our quarters tonight?” he asks.

His voice is small, hesitant, as if nervous about making such a request. Perhaps they rushed him into some things. Perhaps Picard should have followed Beverly and Deanna’s advice and taken more time off, eased him into the crew’s company more carefully, more slowly.

Internally, he decides that tomorrow he’ll take another personal day. Outwardly, he smiles gently, and says, “Today was a very long day. I would also prefer some peace and quiet this evening.”

Louis leans into him, head bowed and tucked against Picard’s side. It’s not quite a hug, more of a…request. Picard puts an arm around his shoulder, runs his other hand through Louis’s hair.

“You know what else I would enjoy tonight?”

“Non,” Louis murmurs, waits, his eyes half-closed.

“Your great-grandmother’s cassoulet.”

As if it heard him, Louis’s stomach growls.

[neopuff]

[mostly-natm]

Data? Who’s Data? That’s Sherlock Holmes!

[ishomieokay]

✧ ❝Moon River❞ ✧ (Pt. I)

pairing: picard x q.

✰ summary -"You wanted to get away from it all, didn't you?" Q says, but Jean-Luc never imagined this.

✰ tags//warnings - imprisonment, kidnapping, past relationship, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, requited unrequited love, implied sexual content, unhealthy relationships. AO3. Part II.

*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓

Jean-Luc sat in the center of the impossible room, its walls shimmering like liquid starlight. No matter how often he blinked or adjusted his perspective, the scenery refused to remain constant. Sometimes, it stretched into a grand cathedral of nebulae. Other times, it collapsed into a claustrophobic void. No matter its form, his circumstances were the same. He was utterly alone.

Or, at least, he wanted to be.

“Really, you’ve no one to blame for this but yourself, Jean-Luc.” From behind him, the telltale, mischievous lilt of Q’s voice broke the silence. “You said you wanted to get away from it all, didn’t you?”

Picard didn’t turn. He hadn’t so much as looked at Q since the moment he’d found himself in this infernal place. A thousand retorts came to mind, each as sharp and cutting as the phaser he wished he had. Instead, he reached for the cup of tea that hadn’t existed a moment ago but now sat steaming on the pedestal beside him. It was Earl Grey, of course. Hot, perfectly brewed. He didn’t drink it.

“Ah, the silent treatment,” Q mused, his tone almost sing-song. “I thought we were past such juvenile games, Jean-Luc.”

Still, Picard refused to acknowledge him. He focused instead on the faint hum that seemed to permeate the space, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest. Was it the structure? Or perhaps the very fabric of the dimension? It didn’t matter. It was preferable to engaging with his captor.

A gust of wind—impossible, given the lack of doors or windows—ruffled Picard’s uniform. Q had manifested in front of him now, leaning on an invisible rail as though they were casually lounging at Ten Forward.

“You know,” Q began, adopting the conversational tone of a man discussing the weather, “most people would consider this paradise. No crew demanding your attention. No constant battles to uphold your precious Prime Directive. Some alone time, at last.” He smirked. “Isn’t that what you’ve always secretly wanted?”

Picard’s jaw clenched. The tea was a touch too hot as he finally took a sip, but he welcomed the burn. It gave him something tangible to focus on, something that wasn’t Q.

“I could have made it so much simpler,” Q continued, undeterred. “A tropical island, perhaps. Or an endless library. You mortals adore your quaint escapes. But no, I wanted to give you something... special.” He gestured broadly, as if presenting a grand masterpiece. “A sanctuary where you can finally be free of all those pesky responsibilities. No Starfleet, no Federation.” His eyes glittered. “Just us.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Picard set his cup down with deliberate care and finally looked up. Not at Q, but at the ever-shifting walls. His voice, when it came, was low and measured, every syllable a weapon.

“This isn’t freedom, Q. This is imprisonment.”

Q’s smile faltered, just for a moment. But then it was back, tighter, more forced. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Jean-Luc. I’ve given you everything you could possibly need. Food, drink, comfort—”

“Everything except my autonomy,” Picard snapped, his voice cutting through the space like a blade. He stood now, his posture rigid, his eyes blazing with the fire of a man who had faced far worse than this and survived. “You’ve taken me from my ship, my crew, my life. Do you think I’d trade all of that for—” he gestured vaguely at the surreal surroundings, “—whatever this is?”

Q’s expression darkened. “I did it for you.”

“No, Q.” Picard’s tone was ice. “You did it for yourself.”

For the first time, silence fell between them, true and unbroken. Q’s usual bravado seemed to falter as he studied Picard’s face, searching for some hint of softening, some opening he could exploit. But there was none. Only steel and resolve.

“I could leave you alone, you know,” Q said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “But we both know you’d hate that even more.”

Picard said nothing. He sat back down, picked up his tea, and turned his gaze away.

Q lingered for a moment longer, as though waiting for a reprieve that would not come. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he vanished, leaving Picard alone once more.

Or so it seemed. Picard knew better. Q was always watching.

And so, he waited. Silent, unyielding. A Captain, even in captivity.

[hexcii]

The Name Game

Chapter 1: Watch your step!

It’s been drilled into your head ever since you were a child. Those who listen to the fae are mere fools. Those who preach of their strength are meager heretics. The village elders would warn the youth of winged beasts who speak in rhymes and riddles, always eager to trick any young soul into giving their name, and with it, their autonomy.

But when two faeries seem to follow you wherever you go, and keep asking for your name, what are you supposed to do?

Correct answer: Panic

Fae!Sun/Moon x Disabled Witch!Y/N

Woo it’s here!!! Finally posted tng!!! Happy reading! :DD

Read chapter notes/tags for warnings. First chapter is a bit slow since it’s more of an introduction

Word count: ~8,000