#to every incarnation after him to follow those words

[dontbelasagne]

not Fifteen embodying what Twelve stood for when he said laugh hard, run fast, be kind.

[capseycartwright]

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time. 

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father. 

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now. 

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name . 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed. 

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan. 

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. 

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least. 

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire. 

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged. 

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world. 

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is. 

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance. 

read the rest on ao3

[https-percy]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

Summary: At Castle coming, Princess Tiana’s sister meets the pirate James Hook, and they form a small bond over a spontaneous dance.

Pairing: James Hook/Captain Hook x Female! Tianas sister! reader

a/n: I've been obsessed with this movie and character since it came out, and I'm finally putting something out there for it.

---

The vibrant colors of Auradon Prep’s Castle Coming danced against the grand hall’s polished floors, an attempt at a celebration of unity and hope. But amid the dazzling array of gowns and suits, you stood out—not because of your elegant, sapphire-blue dress, but because of the quiet tension that seemed to follow you like a shadow.

As Princess Tiana’s sister, you were used to the spotlight, but tonight you sought refuge from the endless conversations and polite smiles. You excused yourself from a particularly insistent group of admirers and slipped into a quieter corridor, hoping for a moment of peace.

It was then that you heard it: a soft, melodic whistling, almost haunting, echoing down the hallway. Curious, you followed the sound until you found yourself standing before a tall, dark-haired figure leaning against the wall.

James Hook—pirate, charm incarnate, and one of the most captivating figures to grace Auradon Prep’s grounds, so they say. His attire was strikingly different from the other guests, his leather coat and golden hook a bold statement amidst the evening’s formality.

“Quite the party, isn’t it?” he said, his voice smooth and almost amused as he noticed your approach.

You couldn’t help but smile at his casual demeanor, which was a stark contrast to the rigidity of the event. “Yes, It’s quite overwhelming.”

Hook’s dark eyes twinkled with interest. “And here I thought you’d be relishing in the attention.”

You shrugged, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Not everyone enjoys being the center of attention. Sometimes it’s nice to escape for a bit.”

He chuckled softly, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. “I can’t say I’m too fond of these dances myself. Too many rules, too little room for.. adventure.”

There was something intriguing about the way he spoke—like every word was an invitation to a story yet to be told. You found yourself drawn in by his easy charm, a welcome distraction from the evening’s stifling formality.

“I’ve heard stories about you. The mighty Captain Hook,” you said, your tone light. “Some of them are rather... colorful.”

He raised an eyebrow, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “Is that so? And what do these stories say about me?”

“That you’re a scoundrel, a pirate with a heart made of black charcoal—or something along those lines,” you replied, amused by his reaction.

Hook laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of freedom. “Well, if being a scoundrel means finding joy in life’s unpredictable twists, then I suppose I’m guilty as charged.”

You looked at him, your curiosity piqued. “And what about finding joy in dances and non-adventurous events?”

He smirked, his gaze locking with yours. “Not so much. I’d much rather be out on the high seas, chasing after treasure and adventure. But sometimes...it’s nice to make an exception.”

For a moment, you stood there, caught in the spell of his gaze. There was a chemistry between you that seemed..undeniable—a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what brings you to Castle Coming? if not for all the royal charm?”

Hook’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer. “Maybe I was hoping to meet someone who doesn’t fit the mold. Someone who appreciates a little chaos in the order.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “And have you found what you were looking for?”

His gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “I think I just might have.”

There was an intensity in his eyes that made your heart race. The way he looked at you, with a combination of intrigue and genuine interest, was unlike anything you’d experienced before.

“Maybe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “you should join me for a dance. I think the evening could use a touch of unpredictability.”

Hook smirked, and he offered his hand with a flourish. “Lead the way lass,"

As you took his hand and stepped into the center of the hall, the music swelled around you, and for the first time that evening, you felt truly alive. Hook’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, a reminder that amidst the grandeur and expectation, there was room for spontaneity and connection.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the music guiding you in a dance that felt both timeless and exhilarating. With every twirl and step, the distance between you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the electric charge of the moment.

In the midst of the Castle Comings splendor, you found a moment of genuine connection—a pirate and a princess, bound by the magic of the night and the unspoken promise of adventures yet to come.

[deedeeznoots]

Hope I Never Forget

➺ Characters: Choso Kamo, GN!Reader

➺ Word Count: 1.7k

➺ Genre: Fluff, Angst (With Comfort)

➺ Content: JJK Anime Spoilers, Mentions of Death, Grief, Choso Crying, Reverse Comfort, Established Relationship 

➺ A/N: Thank you @emmyrosee for requesting something from my 100 followers post! I hope I did your request justice!

➺ Synopsis: Choso’s fondest memory after being incarnated was his younger brothers helping him with his hair. Years later, he’s ready to relive that memory with you. 

Choso remembers that day like it was yesterday. 

It had been years since the deaths of his brothers, and while he has long forgiven the people who killed them (especially his other younger brother Yuji Itadori), he will never be able to fully recover from losing them.

As the years passed, life moved on for Choso. He no longer had to fight anymore, and even found himself in a loving relationship. Yet, every so often he still thinks about his brothers, about all the little things they couldn’t do before their deaths that he has the privilege to experience. Every birthday he celebrated, every Sunday morning he spent in bed, every late night spent laying next to his loved ones watching movies, all things his brothers have never and will never be able to experience with him.

His brothers were only able to experience one small shred of comfort before their deaths, and that was tying their older brother’s hair. The day the brothers incarnated, they insisted on tying Choso’s hair for him. The feeling of his hair being pulled into two pigtails by his younger brothers was the last memory Choso had of all of them together, and that day was the last time Choso ever saw their smiling faces. 

Choso remembers that day like it was yesterday. 

The hairstyle brought Choso a sense of comfort, it was the one thing that remained untouched by the new life Choso led as a human. Every day, Choso would take two hair ties and carefully put his hair into the familiar pigtails that his brothers did for him years prior. 

Still, tying his hair up would be a struggle sometimes. Even though it was a style that he’s done for years, some days his hair would simply choose to not cooperate. Today was unfortunately one of those days for Choso.

 Each time Choso tried to put his hair up, something would feel off. Whether it was the pigtails being uneven, his hair slipping out of the tie, or finding his hair in knots from constantly pulling on it. What seemed like two simple pigtails turned out to actually be quite difficult to put up. Yet, Choso was determined to do it correctly, he had to for his brothers.

He started tying his hair during the early morning, but enough hours had passed that the once rising sun began to set. Even as the world moved, Choso stood still in front of his bedroom mirror, trying to tie his hair perfectly…but he just couldn’t get it right. Choso began to grow frustrated with each failed attempt. He thought about how much easier this would be for his brothers, how they would be able to do it so easily. He thought about how much easier everything would’ve been if he just had them by his side. 

Choso’s chest began to tighten. He wasn’t even focused on his hair anymore, his only thoughts consisting of how much he missed his family. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes, when he suddenly heard the front door open. 

“Cho! Where are you?” your distant voice was like a lifeline for Choso, and he took a deep breath to calm himself down. He didn’t want to cry in front of you, not today. “I’m in our room” his deep voice boomed throughout the house, and you rushed to that spot the moment you heard him. You entered the bedroom to see Choso sitting by the mirror with his hair down. You looked at him confused, “You’re re-doing your hair?” you asked him. Choso stood still for a moment, he didn’t like lying to you, but how could he explain that he spent the entire day doing his hair? 

You knew Choso more than anyone though, so his silence was enough. Every so often Choso would be so focused on a task that he’d lose track of time, and you assumed this was one of those days. “Here let me help you” you said gently, but as you reached out to touch his hair Choso suddenly stood away from you “No!”.

You immediately move your hands away from him, staring at him wide-eyed. Choso never yelled at you, so you were concerned about something being wrong. You look at Choso now standing, as looks shocked at his own behavior toward you.

You see Choso’s body tremble as he slumps down into the floor. The tears he tried so hard to hold back now freely falling down his cheeks as he sits in a seated fetal position, trying his best to make himself as small as possible. “I– I can’t…” he whispers to himself, but you are able to hear it. As you slowly sit next to him, you are able to hear his full sentence “I can’t do this… not without them” you hear him repeat over and over in between soft whimpers.

You know immediately who he’s talking about. You slowly inch closer to Choso, making sure he’s comfortable with your distance between each other. You breathe out a sigh of relief when you feel Choso lean into you, connecting your bodies together. 

“I’m sorry for yelling…” Choso says softly, his own breathing calming down the moment his body touches yours. You wrap your arms around him, making sure to speak softly to not frighten him more “It’s okay Choso… but why won’t you let me help you?”. You didn’t want to make assumptions, you wanted Choso to tell you his feelings directly.

Choso thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully when he says “No one other than my brothers ever touched my hair. If I let someone else do it now… what will it mean for them? What if I forget the day they did it?” Choso makes himself even smaller than before, shuddering at the thought of one day forgetting his baby siblings. 

Hearing his words breaks your heart, and you can’t help but put your hand to his cheek and wipe away the warm tears from his eyes. Caressing his cheek, you say “I won’t do it for you if you really don’t want me to… but you would never forget your brothers, and I’m sure they would want you to ask for help when you need it”. You touch your boyfriend’s forehead to your own. Looking into his eyes, you see him trying to contemplate his thoughts “Are you sure…?” he asks, trying his best to trust you at this moment. 

You smile softly… still holding Choso’s body close to yours, “Completely”. 

The both of you take a seat on your shared bed. Choso, feeling soft and comfortable, leans into you as you comb your hand through his tangled hair. He still felt a bit odd feeling someone else touch his hair in this way, but eventually he was able to fully let go and allow you to take care of him. It helped that your touch was gentle, making sure to not pull too hard. You didn’t rush with his hair, something that even Choso did sometimes when he put his hair up. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time. 

You continued gently brushing his hair, making sure to get rid of all of the little knots that appeared. Choso felt his eyelids get heavier as you massaged his scalp, and while he tried his best to stay awake, his eyes continued to close for longer and longer periods of time before he finally succumbed to slumber while sitting down. 

You didn’t notice that Choso fell asleep at first, continuing to gently brush his hair until it was completely untangled. You eventually took two hair ties and securely tied his hair into two pigtails… making sure to keep his bangs down, just the way Choso liked it. Finishing up, you exclaimed “Perfect! My boyfriend is so handsome” with a giggle in your voice. 

When you don’t hear Choso respond you get slightly worried, wondering if you did something wrong. That was until you heard him softly snore and realize he’s completely asleep. You can’t help but let out a soft laugh, making sure you aren’t loud enough to wake him up. You slowly turn him toward the pillows and lie him down with his hair still up. 

You softly kiss Choso’s lips and lay on his chest, feeling him rise and fall as he breathes in and out in his sleep. Feeling comfortable with your boyfriend’s warmth enveloping your body, you feel yourself slowly fall asleep on his chest, your heart beating with glee at Choso allowing himself to be vulnerable with you and being brave enough to share a part of himself that he hadn’t before. Eventually, you feel your eyes completely close, with your last thought before completely falling to sleep being your loving boyfriend.

After a few hours, Choso is stirred awake and he wakes up. “What happened?” he sits up confused as he rubs his eyes. Your lying figure next to him helps him relay his memories slightly. Right. You were doing his hair when he must’ve fallen asleep.

He sees you asleep and he can’t help but kiss your forehead. Still feeling the ties around his hair, he gets up to look at himself in the mirror. You did an amazing job, and two pigtails still stand proud on his head even after his sleep. 

A big goofy smile is plastered on his face as he admires your work. He thinks about his brothers once again, that soft feeling of familiarity as he allowed them to take care of him. He thinks about you and how you allowed him to feel that feeling once again with your gentle touch and understanding. Grief is no easy feat, and Choso has to go through that grief every day. Still, he thinks about you and how you comforted him today through such a small action, and he can’t help but smile.

He was so afraid of taking away the memory of his brothers by letting you tie his hair, but he realizes that it isn’t true at all. His brothers will forever live in his memory now through the both of you, and he feels them all around now more than ever. He was going to be okay, because he had you. 

Choso remembers that day like it was yesterday… and he hopes he never forgets. 

A/N: So…I have a prequel made for this story of Choso’s brothers doing his hair. It was originally supposed to be part of this post but after writing it I realized it didn’t really fit so I decided to just make it a separate post. I’ll be posting it tomorrow! 

A/N: Love Choso? This story also features him! (Be warned, it’s 18+)

Taglist: @emmyrosee

[arcielee]

A love that burns.

Summary: Aemond is a man obsessed and you are the object of his unwavering devotion. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1037 Warnings: Canon book Aemond, manipulation?, sexual themes, oral (female receiving), p in v, absolute depravity and murder. Author’s Note: This is a reader insert, but with the third person perspective, it is a bit Alys-coded kind of? (I rewrote one of her lines in F&B) A big thank you to @bhxrdy and @itbmojojoejo helping me fix some mistakes and for helping me choose the title 💜🦝 This story is dedicated to the wonderful, the talented @aegonx who gave me prompt #371 by @creativepromptsforwriting. She also made my nifty banner for my blog, so I owe her everything. I am always happy to attempt any requests, I just cannot promise a timely fashion, as it is more whenever the muse strikes. Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

He was a dragon incarnate with the blood of Old Valyria knitted within the ichor that coursed through his veins. Aemond was proud, tall and lithe, his broad shoulders held back despite the burdened weight of his reputation that preceded him–Aemond the One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer, but those utterances only rolled like rain against the scales of Vhagar; he was unbothered, unharried, especially now his role within the kingdom elated with the title Prince Regent, and with it the Conqueror’s Crown to wear. 

The metal and rubies held a weight that now grounded him, reminding him of his purpose, and he went to reclaim Harrenhal with the intent of killing every Strong bastard. 

Here is where he had found her, an eerie calm amongst the chaos, silent despite the cries of mercy as each person was brought to the courtyard and slain. She had watched, unblinking, with an expression that was akin to when Aemond had watched his nuncle take the head of Vaemond Velaryon in the Throne Room a year prior; it had been a moment that kindled a bloodlust that thrummed beneath his skin, a vengeance that could not be forgotten. 

That night, when she was brought to his quarters, she greeted him like an old lover, a sweet kiss pressed to his lips, her soft murmur, “I have been waiting for you, my prince.” 

She came from a noble house without the wealth of Westeros, but revered still and old, old enough to carry the blood of the First Men and its mystical properties. She had followed her sister to Harrenhal when she was chosen to be the next wife for Ser Simon Strong.

Both were now dead and she did not seem to care. 

“Then why did you choose to accompany your sister?” Aemond had asked her after; it was that intimate exchange shared in their bared embrace, nestled on sex soaked linens with her plush thighs serving as a pillow.

Her fingers thread through his silver hair. “The Isle of Faces,” and she smiled, as if she were stating the obvious; she leaned forward to give a chaste kiss to his lips. “I came to listen to the whispers of the weirwoods.” 

Behind closed doors he was intoxicated by her proximity, with an unbridled lust that replaced the blood in his veins, as if she were the very embodiment of his siren call. They fell into one another, and he felt something that burned within him, something that perhaps was always there and only now  ignited by her soft touch, by her gentle pull that brought him flushed against her chest. 

Aemond would worship her through the night, drinking her very essence until the brim of her overstimulation, until he saw her lashes clumped together from her unshed tears, and only then would he shift his weight between her thighs, flushed and slick from her peaks. 

He would move to press his heady cock, heavy and wanting, against her silken folds, and despite their many nights together, she would still feel split open, aware of the ridges and the veins of his thick member as he sheathed within. Her soft gasps came in response to his thrusts that would begin again the crests of ravishment that warmed her blood; and he would not stop his pace until she was a mewling mess, until the lewd sounds of skin to skin mixed with her cries of release, until his name was a repeated reverent prayer that spilled from her lips. 

Aemond hummed her praises, his hot exhale against the curve of her neck. “The gods made you for me alone,” he would breathe against her lips and they would part in a silent cry, her skin pebbling with pleasure. “You were made to take my cock, and you do so well.” 

His words brought her to the precipice and when she felt his hot pulse within her velvet walls, her own clenched in response to chase another climax with boneless ambition, with a sobbed release as the air tore from her lungs but she was breathless to reclaim. Only then would they curl into each other’s arms, their skin aglow with the intimacy shared, with the soft murmurs and quiet exchanges of lovers in their post-coital haze.

“I will have your son,” she promised him. “I can already feel the flames warming my womb.” 

She was always at his side, devoted, everpresent, with a severe gaze that served as a balm for the Prince Regent in the most twisted way. They called her his Blood Queen as she seemed to encourage a sadism that pulsed beneath, speaking that the gods knew what had to be done and that he was the vessel of their actions, always encouraging him to listen to the beckon of the blood of Old Valyria. 

Aemond became a man obsessed and she fed into his depravity; she spoke with such conviction and he believed her every word, her every prophecy. When she would take a boat across the waters, he would remain on the shore pacing like an animal caged, while Vhagar roared overhead, the wind beneath her wings causing turbulent waves that crashed against the lakeside. 

She returned as her namesake with blood that covered her hands and her dress; she would whisper what she saw to him alone, of what was to come and what needed to be done. On one such day, she spoke of the betrayal in the Riverlands, of those who had chosen to ally with the Blacks and their false queen. 

Aemond called for Vhagar and they climbed aback; she was knitted against his backside with her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, and she could feel his rumbled command, “Dracarys,” to rain fire below them, scorching the very earth. She hummed her contentment, the scent of sandalwood and smoke, a scent that intimately belonged to the Prince Regent. 

Her arms curled around his slim waist and he looked down to see her small hand pressed against his chest. Though the histories would recall all the ugly things they had done, in this moment, as his palm reached to cover hers, all he thought was how their entwined fingers were so beautiful together. 

arcie's masterlist

[polo-drone-001]

Conversion

Part 1: The Tension

Ezan took great pride in the Gold he wore. Each morning, he looked at his reflection, admiring the way his kit gleamed—a powerful emblem of unity, strength, and identity. To him, Gold was not just color or uniform; it was purpose. It was power. But when @polo-drone-105 joined the team, everything shifted. Unlike others who had gradually been molded into the Golden way, 105 arrived as something else, already transformed, wearing a blank, unwavering gaze and a devotion that Ezan couldn’t understand. It was a devotion that didn’t elevate Gold but consumed it, twisted it into something darker.

One morning during drills, Ezan overheard 105 speaking in a low, intense voice, his words laced with something unsettling. “True Gold followers don’t merely wear Gold; they embody it by surrendering all that they are,” 105 murmured, his eyes fixed and unblinking. “You don’t wear Gold to contain it. To truly serve, you must abandon individuality. Gold is too pure to be held in flawed hands. We must embrace rubber—the only true path to enlightenment.”

A chill ran through Ezan, his pride morphing into anger. He squared up to 105, his voice sharp, an edge of defiance in every word. “That’s not Gold. Gold is tradition, loyalty, strength. We’re here to honor it, not to dissolve ourselves into it. Gold holds us together, but we don’t lose ourselves to it. I am Gold. I stand for Gold.”

105’s face remained impassive, his voice a quiet murmur of conviction. “You cling to a false image, Ezan. Gold is beyond what you understand. It’s not meant for you to keep—it’s purity incarnate. Only by surrendering all that you are can you come close to its truth.”

The words lingered, their weight pressing down on Ezan long after he turned away. His faith wavered, leaving a hollow doubt that was hard to ignore. @polo-drone-063 and @polo-drone-070 had watched the exchange with unreadable expressions, while Brody had come forward, his tone gentle yet firm. “Ezan, we’re all on our own path here. Some choose to follow, some choose to surrender. We don’t force any brother. Remember, harmony is strength. And strength… is Gold.”

Ezan nodded, suppressing the frustration bubbling in his chest. He didn’t want to be the one to break the team’s unity, so he looked at Brody and muttered, “I apologize.” It didn’t feel right, but he bowed his head.

063 stepped forward with a quiet smile, offering him something sleek and dark—the rubbery gleam of a black polo shirt. “Here,” 063 murmured, his voice a gentle suggestion, his eyes almost vacant. “Just try it. Feel the fit. Feel the strength.”

Ezan shook his head, stepping back. “No… I’m Gold. This… this isn’t for me.”

070 blocked him, his voice soft, lulling. “It’s just a shirt, Ezan. You’re stronger than this, aren’t you? It’s not going to convert you. Just try it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he snatched the shirt, pulling it on with a scowl. “Fine,” he muttered, sliding it over his shoulders. But the second the fabric touched his skin, he felt a tingling warmth run through him. The material hugged his body, molding to him perfectly, like it was made for him. It was smooth, cool, but as it settled, a strange warmth spread, sinking into his skin, deeper with each breath. In the mirror, he saw a figure more powerful, more imposing, a figure with a gleam in its eye that held an unfamiliar power.

“See? It’s just a shirt,” 070 murmured, a soft smirk curving his lips.

Ezan couldn’t look away, his hands roaming over the smooth fabric, feeling the strength radiating from it. He tried to stop touching it, tried to remove it, but he couldn’t resist the allure. It felt perfect, like it was more than fabric, like it was bonding with him, wrapping itself around his very identity.

Just then, 105 stepped forward, his voice low, smooth, cutting through Ezan’s dazed state. “Gold isn’t yours to claim. It’s too pure for a human. Only those who abandon their flawed selves can serve. Only those who surrender can touch its essence.”

Ezan’s thoughts began to blur, the strength of his convictions fading, slipping beneath 105’s words. His hands stilled on the rubber shirt, his mind blanking, every word from 105 burrowing deep into his mind. 105 leaned in close, his voice almost a whisper, yet it echoed in Ezan’s skull.

“Abandon your past, Ezan. Abandon the lie you call yourself. Only as a drone can you reach true enlightenment.”

The words rippled through his mind like waves, eroding every thought until he could barely feel the shape of his own identity. He blinked at the reflection in the mirror, but the eyes staring back were vacant, hollow, empty of resistance.

Join the Golden Army. Experience transformation like never before—total unity, absolute purpose. Embrace the power, the discipline, and the collective. Your place awaits among us. DM to take the first step, or apply through our interim Co-Captain @brodygold or @polo-drone-009. Feel the bliss.

Part 2

[fictionadventurer]

I don't know why this feels like such a revelation, but after watching the latest Moffat episode of Doctor Who, it clicked for me that the core difference between RTD and Moffat Who is that to RTD, the Doctor is God (or a metaphorical substitute for God), while Moffat's Doctor is a man in need of God.

Like, it's obvious RTD deifies the Doctor. The imagery is not subtle. And Moffat's Doctor is obviously a much more fallible man. But I hadn't fully considered how this affects the kinds of stories they tell.

In RTD's Who, the Doctor is someone who comes into a mundane human existence and gives it meaning. An encounter with the Doctor changes your life forever. You would follow him to the end of the universe if he asked, because life with him is infinitely better than life without him. Humans who try to reach the Doctor's level are struck down, because mere mortals cannot rise to the level of godhood. From a Christian perspective, this offers valid storytelling possibilities ("Human Nature/The Family of Blood", with its musings upon the Incarnation, fits perfectly in this era), but it does have the Doctor standing in the place of God, which suggests that the universe of RTD's worldview doesn't have one and needs the Doctor to fill that gap.

In Moffat's Who, on the other hand, the Doctor is a wondrous, impossible, legendary being--but still just a man. He can guide you through some of the best or most terrifying moments of your life--but your life has meaning outside of him. His companions learn over and over again the perils of relying on him too completely. Ordinary people can be just as good--or better--than him, because the Doctor is just another man, growing and changing and trying to find his place in the universe.

Moffat's Doctor is extremely aware that he's in a story--and he is not the author. In "The Doctor Dances" he is aware of how death-filled his stories usually are, and is ecstatically grateful when he is permitted a story where everybody lives. In "Blink", he and Sally are both following a script--but neither one of them wrote it; though they have free will, this story came from outside of them. Of course, these are examples of Moffat's meta exploration of storytelling--but the fact remains that his Doctor exists in a world where there is a greater force that runs everything.

And the Doctor resists this. He remains skeptical, arrogant, independent--but he is always searching for something more.

All this crystallized when watching "Boom". There, the Doctor is facing soldiers in a religious war, and he sneers that they didn't notice anything fishy because they "had faith, which keeps you from ever having to think for yourself." Those are the brutal words of every hackneyed internet atheist, and since the soldiers were wrong to have faith in this war, it seems like the story's saying the Doctor's right, and religion's just the "opiate of the masses".

And yet.

The episode ends with the Doctor telling a little girl to hold onto faith, and when the religious character points out that the Doctor was stridently against faith, the Doctor replies, "Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I don't need it."

Isn't that the Christian experience in a nutshell? How many of us are tempted to think that life would be so much easier if we didn't follow God? And yet we can't leave it aside because we need God. We need meaning outside ourselves, and life with God is better than life without him.

But this isn't the Whedon-ish universe where it doesn't matter if it's true so long as believing does something good for you. There is objective truth, and the Doctor is aware of it. He is aware that love is the most powerful force in the universe. (God is love). He is aware that everyone and everything dies, yet knows that something lingers on. (God is stronger than death). The Doctor is in a world where God exists, and even if he (or his writer) doesn't know it, he needs him, is searching for him, and to some extent, believes in him, because he can't deny these truths that he's seen. And I cannot get over how many different ways Moffat has been exploring these themes all these years.

[professor-cold-ramen]

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

If you're looking for real answers, here are some answers in good faith. I can only hope my words do it justice.

"Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one?"

Yahweh is the only god (small g) that I have seen working in my life and the lives of those around me, just as you have felt Hel work in your life. I have seen Him quickly answer my prayers and the prayers of others, in ways that I never would've expected. I have felt His love, even in the moments when I didn't deserve it. Especially in those moments. Because of what I have experienced, I firmly believe that the Bible is from Him and that every single word of it is infallible. I believe that Yahweh:

Created the universe (every piece of it, from the largest galaxies to the smallest gluons) (Genesis 1:1)

Fought for the Israelites, His chosen people, when they were being attacked (and always won, no matter what He was up against) (The Book of Judges has plenty of great examples)

Freed His people from Egypt and Babylon on separate occasions (two of the strongest world powers in those times) (The Books of Exodus, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Daniel)

Came to Earth as a baby (Luke 2:11)

Healed the sick and raised the dead while He was incarnated on this earth as Jesus Christ (The Gospel of John, Chapters 9 and 11 among many others)

Died on a cross to cleanse us of our sins that we might be with Him (Luke 23:46)

Rose again after three days, ending the powers of sin and death (Hallelujah!) (Luke 24:6)

Still works in the lives of those who seek Him (Acts 17:27)

Has given His Spirit to those with faith to assist us in our daily trials (Acts 1:8)

Will win the final victory once this world passes away (The Book of Revelation)

Will welcome those who believe in Him into His kingdom (Revelation, Chapter 21)

I believe that He is stronger than any other force in this universe, because He created all of them. Because of what the Bible says, I believe that Yahweh is the the Lord God (big G). He has already done so much for me, and will continue to do immeasurably more as I follow Him. I can see no reason to follow anyone else. No other god is worth following.

"But because she is not your god you would call this demonic?"

Not necessarily demonic. I am open to the possibility of there being other supernatural/divine forces beyond Yahweh. I don't claim to understand the supernatural world. Your gods might be demons or some other kind of spirit. I don't think I'll ever find out, but that is something I'd like to ask Yahweh when I meet him. It's always fascinated me.

"And say my soul is bound for damnation?"

All our souls our bound for damnation. My own soul is bound for damnation. When I die, I will have to stand before Yahweh and his judgment. I will never be able to meet His standards on my own. "Foremost among sinners," as the apostle Paul put it (1 Timothy, 1:15). My only hope is the loving grace and mercy of Jesus Christ, the son of God. Because of the redemptive work He did when He died a criminal's death upon a cross, I have been cleansed of my sins. Christ bore the judgment for me so I don't have to. Just like the prodigal son that Jesus spoke of in His parables, Yahweh will welcome me with open arms. The same can happen for you. I promise it isn't too late.

"Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish."

Because these other gods don't have the power to save you. They make promises but cannot deliver on any lasting goodness. You can believe whatever you want. I believe Yahweh has given you the free will to do so. However, I am called to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. Keeping to my own isn't an option.

Yahweh truly wants best for you, as do I. And what is best for you is to live in communion with your creator, who loves you and is calling you back to Him. He will leave the rest of the sheep in His flock to come find you (Luke 15:3-7). There is a part of you, no matter how small or how deep it is buried, that yearns to be with Him. Lean into it. Trust me on this, you will not regret it.

"How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another?"

I believe that I have the free will to leave Him. In fact, there have been plenty of times that I haven't been especially close to Yahweh, of my own volition. I screw up. I fall short. I turn away from Him to chase the fleeting pleasures of this world. Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. And every time He welcomes Me back. I pray daily that I might keep my eyes on Him and not fall away.

In fact, even King David, who was described as "A man after God's own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14) made mistakes. He chose his own ways and desires over Yahweh's, usually to disastrous consequences. However, he always returned to worshiping and praising Yahweh, and Yahweh accepted him back. (2 Samuel, Chapters 11 and 12, most notably 12:20)

This is true love. Yes, He will discipline us and let us deal with the consequences of our mistakes, but He will always forgive us and welcome us back. I truly hope that you have experienced an unconditional love like this. If you haven't, I hope you will experience it at some point from the future. In fact, I hope you will experience Yahweh's endless, undeserved, unconditional, overwhelming love. We were created to experience it. There's nothing else like it.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Imperial harem au

so how does the first meeting between starscream and his harem go?

Simple: it doesn't 🤭

Starscream is very against the idea and is definitely dragging his feet. Usually he thrives on attention, and you'd think he'd be all over the idea of schmoozing with a bunch of wealthy and well-bred beauties desperately clamoring for his attention and trying to seduce him.

But no. Starscream may be a narcissistic and he does love attention, but this Starscream is incredibly young compared to the one we know in canon. He's fresh out of school, has just graduated with his first degree. The closest thing he's ever had to a real relationship is Skyfire, and that whole thing is messy, to say the least, due to Vosian politics. He's not in any rush to give himself to anyone, not only because he's young and inexperienced and wants to be strategic about it, but because it feels so completely objectifying. Dehumanizing, if you will. One of those concubines is going to be his future trine mate, whether he likes it or not, and he's dreading it. He doesn't know these people. He can't stand the idea of spending the rest of his life tied to a couple strangers that will only be using him for the position of royalty for the rest of his life. And he has to touch them to do it? No thank you. This Starscream is so wet behind the ears and has been so dedicated to his studies he's not even had his first time yet. He wants it to happen naturally, wants it to be with someone that'll make it feel good physically and emotionally.

So, he's not exactly jumping for joy when the day comes for the ceremony to be performed, to welcome the contenders into the palace. His parents go all out, naturally: though they may be of higher rank, they're still greeting and welcoming a bunch of very important young lords and ladies as their extended guests, and the last thing they want to do is insult their families and cause turmoil. The professions are grand, palace gates and courtyard decorated with finery and dazzling lights and jewels as each one arrives, all dolled up in the finest paint and polish with an entourage of attendants handpicked from their less fortunate relatives, being led by the head trine of their aerie coming to present them.

Starscream is naturally posted with the Winglord and his trine as the offerings arrive; each and every one is clearly well loved and doted on, soft and lovely faces, plenty of jewelry and ceremonial glyphs, grace incarnate as they approach. Upon each of their forehelms they're marked with the titles they have been awarded, traditionally indicating which house they hail from. The Peaceful, Vigorous, Wise, Protective, and Gilded Consorts. The final one is the only one he pays any attention to, presented from the noble house second only in power to his own. The beloved grandson of the House of Commerce's matriarch is covered helm to thrusters in metallic golden glyphs, draped in golden chains and golden bracelets. The other concubines have their glyphs done in traditional black or white. It's quite a statement, and is rife with cheek. He sparkles and shines so brilliantly it's hard to look at him, and it's a clear statement to everyone: he's the favorite to win.

Thundercracker himself has a deadpan look on his face, optics blank and laser focused straight ahead of him, expression cold and unwavering and perfect like a lovingly sculpted statue. He's the very picture of icy cold arrogance and class, and even without his parents' say-so Starscream knows he should probably be one of the two he chooses. His House has the economy in the palm of their hand, after all, and own over half the city's assets and housing. Grand Matriarch Permafrost deeply adores him, her favorite grandchild of all, and to snub them would not bode well.

Following the welcome ceremony where he says all of but six words, "I thank you for your presence.", the concubines are taken to the inner palace's courtyard to settle in and be assigned their pavillions. Traditionally at this point the prince would go survey the goods one on one, but Starscream couldn't care less. He doesn't want to go. The sooner he sets foot in there the sooner he'll have to start performing nightly duties, and he's quietly dreading it. Being with another person seems like such a big deal and he feels vaguely nauseous at having to be touched by someone he barely knows.

He avoids it as long as he can, squirreling himself away in inconspicuous library wings to study law or mathematics or anything, really, so long as no one can say he's wasting time. He is, mind you, but at least he's doing something productive. A unique brand of procrastination, to be sure 🤭 this goes on for exactly a decacycle (10 days), before the Winglord steps in. Sternly telling him that he has to actually go see his concubines, and while a vorn may sound like a long time, conceptions can be finicky. If he wants to get to know them better before bedding them, that's fine, but in that case he needs to actually make an effort to familiarize himself. A new private rule is implemented: he has to go see each of the concubines at least once a decacycle: that's 5 days out of every 10 that he has to go visit the inner palace, effectively immediately. He's less than thrilled.

He has no idea which one to visit first, so leaves it up to chance. Tosses all five names into a random generator and decides whichever one it spits out, that's who he's going to see

...

I have already decided who he's going to visit first and the drama that ensues 🤭 any guesses owo

[zombolouge]

31 Days of Dragon Age

following this prompt list!

Oct 13: Introduce your Hawke

(I'm a day late, nobody notice)

NOW PRESENTING: LILLY HAWKE

(beautiful art by @peachcott)

Ah, Lilly. My terrible, terrible woman <3

I recently described Lilly to a friend as having an infinite amount of compassion trapped behind the brash actions of someone with absolutely NO patience whatsoever. When you couple that with the heaps of trauma that every Hawke comes with, she spent the majority of her life getting angrier and angrier a the state of the world and all it kept taking from her.

Lilly was a daddy's girl who didn't get along with her mother, the problems exacerbated after Malcolm passed. She chafed at being responsible for people and has a fathomless well of self-doubt that keeps her feeling perpetually unworthy of any such responsibilities. She gets easily frustrated with people that don't see reason, and usually resorts to stabbing if a few words can't persuade them. If she believes words CAN sway you, though, she'll buy you a drink and spend six hours debating with you, until you leave buzzed and baffled and a little bit fond of the most annoying person you've ever met.

Sarcastic, irreverent, and so full of love she wouldn't have ever known what to do with it, Lilly went to Kirkwall and had a very bad time. She's a dagger rogue, but had VERY strong anti-templar opinions due to the mages in her family, which clashed considerably with the political climate. It did endear her to Anders, though, and after they finished tearing each other apart trying to resist each other, they formed an unbreakable bond. Her romance with him had a LOT of ups and downs, but it's because of how deeply they felt for each other and how little they think of themselves.

Lilly is messy. She doesn't censor herself, she would rather act than think, and she's VERY bad at facing difficult emotions. But she was the glue that brought a strange collection of people into her orbit, forging a found family that withstood a lot of mistakes and heartbreak. She offers forgiveness to those she cares about when they probably don't deserve it, and I think it's the only reason any of them got out of Kirkwall alive.

lol I think she's the least-loved of my DA characters, if the kudos counts are any indication, but I'll always love her to death. She's chaos incarnate and mad about it, but she has every right to be.

If you want to read her story, I recommend starting with my DA2 fic, Wildfire. (it's in a broader series, but can be read on its own)

[tough-girl9]

Mother Knows Best (Data x Female Reader)

Mechanical Rose Series Part 5

Mechanical Rose Series Part 1: First Base

Mechanical Rose Series Part 2: Android Mine

Mechanical Rose Series Part 3: Exobiology

Mechanical Rose Series Part 4: Make Us Stronger

Mechanical Rose Series Prequel One-shot: Crush

Summary: When Data informed you that he wants you to meet someone, you weren't expecting to be introduced to your android boyfriend's mother. But the conversation with Juliana Tainer that follows gives you just what you need to reach out to Data and take the next step with your handsome android...

Rated: M

Also posted on AO3

-------------------------------------------------

You lean back and sigh deeply, cradling a cobolt-blue cocktail in one hand and savoring the glow of warm sunlight over your bare legs and shoulders. Taking a sip, you close your eyes, resting your head back on the fluffy pillow plumped between your neck and the wicker lounge chair, and bask in the peace and relaxation.

You've been overdue for some time off for a couple months, but the mapping of the Voris Nebula took longer than expected and you knew you wouldn't properly enjoy your time off if you left in the middle of a major expedition. But now, knowing you won't be missed for several weeks as the Enterprise restocks for its next mission at Starbase 45, you can let yourself unwind and let down your proverbial hair.

A slight breeze brushes over you, ruffling your hair, and stirs the palm trees above you, making a gentle hish sound that mingles with the soft lapping of the water on the nearby beach. Your cabin is situated right on the edge of the sand, with a wide porch and a retractable awning, which at the moment is fully drawn back, allowing the sunlight to pour fully over your body.

In short, it's paradise.

Well, almost anyway.

You've heard all the stories about Risa – it's the most popular shore leave destination for Starfleet officers, after all – and you have to admit that they were (mostly) unexaggerated. Pristine weather, gorgeous views, luxury cabins, endless cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, everything from spas and saunas for the less adventurous to spelunking and rock climbing for those with a more thrill-seeking streak. It's opulence incarnate.

But you have to admit, for your first-time visit to the infamous pleasure planet, it's also a little disconcerting. It's just a little too perfect, with the artificial weather, attractive, scantily-clad Risian attendants, and the overwhelming abundance of tourist attractions clamoring for the attention of all five senses. It's the absolute picture of a tourist trap, and while you can't say you regret letting your coworkers talk you into taking your shore leave here once they'd discovered that you'd never been, you're also looking forward to returning to the Enterprise tomorrow and resuming your normal and less glamorous life.

But even more than that, you're looking forward to seeing your boyfriend again.

You both had been planning to take your shore leave at the same time and enjoy two weeks on Risa together, but at the last minute, word from Starfleet had come about a sudden increase in geological instability on Oran Zeta III, and as the head science officer, Data had been assigned to researching an emergency solution. You'd considered postponing your own shore leave, but Data had insisted that you go ahead with your vacation. "Darling, you have been working hard the last two months and have been increasingly exhibiting signs of stress and overt tiredness. Current research suggests that for optimum health, humans should take an extended time of relaxation at least once every quarter of a year, and your last shore leave was twenty-four weeks, five days ago. It will be at least several weeks to a month before I am available to join you, and I do not wish for you to undergo continued stress while waiting for me."

As usual, you knew he was right. And even though you'd been deeply looking forward to the time with him, you went ahead and took your scheduled leave by yourself.

But as relaxing and pleasurable as your time here has been, you find yourself longing for his touch again more than anything that Risa can offer you.

Given the nature of the planet, it's hard not to find yourself constantly reminded of him. The Risians are famously open about sexuality, and reminders of romance are everywhere, from the numerous couples – many of whom are openly and constantly in some stage of making out – to the inescapable symbol of the horga'hn that appears everywhere from the huge statue in the visitor center to the embroidery on one corner of your cabin's bedsheets. Although you have not been propositioned for jamaharon yourself, it's influence on the tropical paradise cannot be understated. Everything seems to remind you that your own lover is thousands of light years away.

In fact, there are three couples openly making out down on the beach at this very moment. The human man and Risian woman closest to you giggle to each other in between their passionate, open-mouthed kisses. Both individuals are unclad from the waist up and the man is fondling the woman, much to her enjoyment it would seem from the moans interspersed between the giggles. You catch only a glimpse of them before politely looking away; even here, it's still considered impolite to stare. But you can't help but imagine yourself and Data in that couple's place. You shiver involuntarily as you imagine your android on top of you, pressing you down into the soft sand, hands and lips doing wonderful things to your body…

Since your encounter with Lore two months ago, you and Data have been taking things extra slowly and since that night when he showed you his activation switch, you haven't really progressed further in your relationship. But then, you also haven't seen nearly as much of each other. You've had steady back-to-back missions the last few months and you've been busy and Data's been even busier. Lately, it's seemed like you're lucky to catch a few private minutes together, let alone anything more.

But these two weeks of rest and time to unwind from your busy schedule have given your imagination plenty of time to go to work, and being completely away from Data for the first time since you began dating has only added fuel to your fire. And thoughts of taking a new step with your boyfriend are becoming more appealing by the hour.

Your final afternoon on Risa draws on, and you go down to the resort center to find some food. It's a large court, rimmed by a colonnade opening out onto the beach, filled with different food vendors and other merchants selling knickknacks and souvenirs. You get a dish of shor'tan, a local street favorite that consists of dried and seasoned fruit and nuts topped with a sweet caramel-like glaze. You munch on the treat while you do your final round of souvenir shopping. You pick up a miniature snow globe of the Granite Falls of Borthanin for your best friend and a dabaru board for your neighbor in the room across the hallway from you who is always hosting all deck game nights. One by one, you pick out something for each person for whom you'd made a mental note to bring something back.

At last, there's only one person left on your list, but you find yourself stumped.

You know Data would be happy with whatever you bring back to him and he'd be delighted simply that it came from you, but you still feel the urge to find that special something that's just right. But what…?

You wander in and out of the vendor stalls. Colors, glitter, scents, and sounds assail you from every side: everything from racks of moving digital postcards to scarves embroidered with crystals from the Hordak Caverns and so much more. After about an hour of browsing, you stop by one stall that specializes in pet accessories and pick out a cute collar for Spot. But still nothing jumps out at you as a candidate for what to bring back for Data.

Another vendor several rows down from the pet stall catches your eye. There are many intricate, beautiful pieces of jewelry on display in the front: necklaces, bracelets, ear cuffs, circlets. You admire the offerings then step inside, your eyes scanning up and down over the wide variety of glittering items as you make your way towards the back. And suddenly, one piece in particular seems to jump dramatically out at you from all the surrounding pieces, and you feel your breath catch a little in your throat. A second later, you realize fully what it is, and heat springs into your cheeks as an illicit image blazes vividly across your mental eye.

Still blushing, you move on, but you can't shake that mental image seared into your mind nor the powerful feelings it arouses. True, such a gift would be just as much for you as it would be for Data, but you feel certain that Data would like that: a gift for both of you to share together. He's been so patient and gentle with you during these difficult past few months, and you know he'd never push you before you were ready, but you suspect that few things would mean more to him than you taking the initiative to show him that you want to go further with him.

Before you can second guess yourself again, you return to the display and claim the prize for your own.

TWO WEEKS LATER

February 2, 2372

"Hello? Y/N? Anyone at home in there?"

You jerk out of your distant thoughts in a daze. "Huh? What?"

Vadra gives you a knowing smirk. "I think you've already answered my question."

You blink. "What…what was the question?"

"I asked if you were looking forward to tonight. And from the fact that your head is clearly too full of hot android to even notice that your scan finished three minutes ago, I'd say the answer is a big yes."

You blush. "Who says I'm thinking of hot android?"

Vadra's eyebrows rise an impossible notch higher. "Well, I've never seen you go goo-goo eyed over level two diagnostic scans, but then again, there's a first time for everything."

"Oh shut up," you say with no malice.

Your Bajoran best friend and fellow exobiologist laughs. "So, what particular aspect of android hotness has you mesmerized today? His eyes? His blinkies? His shoulder-to-hips ratio? His-"

"Oh, look!" You snatch the tricorder out of Vadra's hand. "The preliminary scans are showing positive readings. Looks like we're going to need more samples."

Vadra leans against the table beside the computer station. "So, he told you there's someone he wants you to meet tonight? Any idea who it might be?"

You shrug as you input the sample data to run another diagnostic scan. "No idea. He's told me he never really had friends before serving on the Enterprise. I know he corresponds a lot with Commander Maddox, but I don't think their relationship is a get-invited-to-a-birthday-party type of relationship. And – I don't know – I got the feeling he was excited. I can't imagine who he'd be excited to introduce me to."

"Well, I guess you'll find out in just over an hour," Vadra responds. She looks at the computer as you start the scan then gives you a pointed look. "It'll be several hours before the scan finishes, and it'll still be there in the morning. Nobody's going to notice if you slip away from your shift fifteen minutes early. It's not like you're mentally here anyway."

You give your teasing friend a mock glare, but you do head over to your work station to neatly put away your tricorder and other tools and lock up the extra samples. You glance back over at Vadra, who makes a shooing motion with one hand. You shake your head at her, but gratefully head out all the same.

Back at your quarters, you strip off your uniform and dump it in the cleaning processor, then stand for a full ten minutes in front of your dresser trying to decide what to wear for tonight's festivities. You want to look nice, but you don't want to appear to formal or stuffy either. In the end, you opt for a one-shouldered asymmetrical blouse and knee-length skirt: simple and comfy, casual enough for a party, but also with a hint of playfulness that you hope will help should this evening start going in the direction that you hope it does.

Feeling satisfied, though still mulling over the curious puzzle of Data's cryptic words about introducing you to someone, you set off to Ten Forward.

There's already a sizable crowd gathered, mostly milling around by the bar, and happy chatter permeates the air. Several tables have been reconfigured to form a buffet line, which ends with a towering, three-tiered cake covered in candles. A stack of colorfully-wrapped presents teeters in one corner and a huge Enterprise piñata swings from one of the light fixtures. A large colorful banner over the bar reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You spot your boyfriend almost immediately, in the center of the room with Commander Riker and Geordi. Even though he's dressed in his habitual gold uniform, to your eyes he's still the most handsome and most dashing man in the room. Immediately, your heart flutters and you head straight to him.

He sees you coming, and his face lights up with that sweet smile of his that makes your heart do backflips. He steps towards you away from his friends and holds out his arms for you. You happily embrace him, squeezing him tightly. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," you murmur against his cheek.

"I am happy you could make it, darling," he responds sincerely, and you notice that he doesn't dismiss his emotion with technobabble excuses.

You glide your fingers up his collar and throat and twine them into his hair. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything. I've been thinking about it, and you, all day." You lean forward and press your lips softly to his, and he wraps his arms tenderly around your waist and lifts you off the floor easily as he kisses you back.

"Data!"

Your blissful moment is interrupted by the sound of a female voice from behind you, a voice which you notice sounds utterly delighted. Suddenly embarrassed, you jerk away from Data as he sets you back down, and you both turn around.

A petite woman is standing several paces away from the two of you, holding a champaign glass in both hands. It's hard to tell her age; her up-done hair is silvery white, but there's an ethereal, ageless beauty to her and an unmistakable sparkle in her blue eyes. Right now, she's looking at both of you with the world's biggest, brightest smile, pure, unfiltered delight radiating off of her.

She comes to stand beside Data, slipping one arm around his back and handing him her extra glass. As she does so, you can feel the intense scrutiny of her examination of you, even after you drop your gaze, trying to staunch your fierce blush. "Data," the woman repeats, the glee only slightly lessened, "Data, you didn't tell me you'd found a girl!"

"I apologize for the omission," Data says, and maybe it's your imagination but you think he sounds just slightly flustered. "I had thought to maintain the information as a secret and thus make it 'a surprise' when I was next able to visit you or vice versa. If I was in error-"

"Oh, not an error, but definitely a surprise," the woman beams. She pats the middle of his chest firmly. "Well, are you going to introduce me or not?"

"Of course," Data responds calmly. His fingers curl delicately around yours. "This is Lt. Y/N, one of our exobiology department leaders and…and my girlfriend." He pauses, then squeezes your hand gently. "Y/N, I would like to introduce you to Juliana Tainer…my mother."

You choke a little. His mother. You knew Data had a mother – he'd explained his somewhat complicated family history to you – and you knew he still contacted her regularly and occasionally took his shore leave to visit her, but there's still something thoroughly strange at the thought of being introduced to your android boyfriend's mother all the same. What if she doesn't like you or doesn't agree that you're the right match for her son? What does she think of her son dating a human? What sort of person would Data's mother be to begin with?

"I'm sorry, dear, I would have gotten you a glass as well," Juliana says, "but it appears my son was being deliberately secretive about you." She pats his back fondly, then puts a slender hand on your forearm. "But I am very much looking forward to meeting the woman who managed to catch my boy's eye at last."

For the moment however, you are spared the ordeal of being interrogated by your boyfriend's mother as the sound of loud glass chiming fills the room. Everyone looks to the front of the room, where Commander Riker and Geordi have taken the floor, the former with a champaign class which he taps to give another resounding ring. The merry buzz of conversation fades as everyone turns their attention to the two senior officers.

"I'd like to thank you all for joining us for this special celebration," Riker says. "When I learned just a few weeks ago that a very important and dear member of our bridge crew had never gotten the experience of a human birthday party, well, I knew that was going to have to change. Data." He turns and addresses the android who is standing by and listening quietly. "I've had the honor of knowing you and serving alongside you for nearly seven years, and I'm truly grateful to have the even greater honor of being your friend. So, Data, can you explain to me how the hell I missed all these years not realizing the travesty that you'd never had a good, old-fashioned Terran birthday party?" There's good-natured laughter throughout the room and Data's lips quirk in that smile that means he's slightly confused but happy to go along with it. Riker tips his head fondly in Data's direction, grinning wildly. "Data, my friend, I can only hope this evening brings you one step closer to humanity, because I don't know anyone who deserves it more than you."

There are cheers of "here, here!" and "Data!" and a round of applause. Data looks around, his neck moving with that curious clicking precision, golden eyes wide and childlike.

Geordi allows the cheers and applause to die down before he raises his own glass. He looks at Data and shakes his head, chuckling fondly. "Data," he says, and Data's gaze softens almost imperceptibly. "Oh, Data. We've been through a lot, haven't we, my friend? Well, I can't tell you how glad I am to add celebrating your birthday to that list." He shakes his head again. "I still remember the first day we met, not like I could ever forget it. At first, I was amazed by the technology – that I was talking to the world's first and only sentient android – but that quickly paled in comparison to getting to know the person you are. Bright, curious, endlessly fascinated by every detail of the world around you, seeing things exactly as they are but at the same time always hopeful and optimistic. The real irony is that as I've watched you wanting to become more human, you've helped all of us become more human every step of the way. To you and a happy thirty-fourth birthday, my dear fellow Perceiver."

Geordi and Riker tip their glasses back and drink, and amidst cheers everyone else in the room, Data included, drinks down the toast. You can't help the warm budding in your chest as you down your own drink, which you snagged from the bar during the toast. Seeing how loved Data is by all his friends and fellow crewmembers fills you with joy for him.

It's like going back to your childhood. It's the quintessential Terran birthday party, from the swinging Enterprise piñata to the handmade cards and pile of presents. Everyone raucously sings happy birthday as Data blows out all thirty-four candles in one easy go. Slices of cake get passed around the room along with more synthehol and punch, and one of the Enterprise's many music ensembles begins playing upbeat tunes that encourage many of the partiers to take to the main floor to dance.

Data is thoroughly swamped by well-wishers and you can't begrudge them for it. You'll have plenty of time to him for yourself later…or so you hope. You take a seat with a slice of birthday cake and a glass of fizzy punch.

"This seat isn't taken, I hope."

You look up to find Juliana Tainer standing opposite you, her hand resting on the chair across the table from you. In her other hand, she's holding a glass of tulaberry wine. You self-consciously brush your hair back behind your ear. "Oh, er, no, it's not."

"Wonderful!" Juliana makes herself at home on the chair. She sets her glass in front of her, then looks around the room with a contented sigh. "I'm so very glad I was able to make it here for the party. It's truly wonderful seeing how many friends he's been able to make." She looks back at you, beaming. "Speaking of which, how did my son meet you? I want details."

You tell her the story, as plain as it is, how the two of you had been coworkers for years, silently crushing on each other until Data finally made the move to ask you out, but Juliana acts as if it's the world's most fascinating epic. "Oh, I'm so, so glad," she gushes as you finish. "I always knew when the time was right that he'd meet someone. He's such a sweet boy and a romantic at heart, just like his father. He's been longing for romantic companionship for a while, oh, not that he'd ever say it, but a mother knows."

She leans in conspiratorially. "Just between you and me, it's about time he put his sexual programming to good use. Lord only knows his father spent enough time writing it for him!" You blush furiously and quickly lift your glass, less to actually take a drink and more to cover the brilliant flush in your cheeks.

Juliana doesn't seem to notice, or (more likely) simply refrains from commenting. "So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. Are you from Earth? What made you want to join Starfleet? How long have you been stationed on the Enterprise?"

As you answer, you find yourself relaxing a little. Juliana Tainer is easier to talk to than you had imagined, and from all the signs she's already all but adopted you as a daughter in all but blood. You tell her the story of the Museum of Interplanetary Life and the pirin, then about applying for the Academy, graduating, your early commissions, and then your life aboard the Enterprise the last several years. Juliana is a good listener, interjecting questions or smiling and laughing quietly in response.

"Well, all I can say is Data seems to have good taste," Juliana says with a little wink. "But of course he does. He's a smart boy. So, you've been with him four months now? What do you think of him?"

Your blush returns, but you also can't help swooning a little too. "He's…he's everything I ever wanted," you admit dreamily. "Sometimes I remember that we're together and it seems like it can't possibly be true. I've never met someone kinder, gentler, more patient. He's so good to me. Frankly, I'm amazed someone else didn't come along and snatch him up long before I came into the picture. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend."

Juliana is smiling gently. "Well, obviously I'm very biased, but I couldn't agree more. I don't think I could possibly be prouder of the man he's become." A sad, pained look crosses her face. "I only wish I could go back and make different choices so that I could have been there for him his entire life the way he deserved. His life hasn't been easy, and I know I'm partially to blame for it, so seeing him so happy, content, and surrounded by people who love him is more than I could ever have asked for." She reaches across the table and pats your arm. "Don't ever take him for granted, dear. He's a true treasure, and a good lot of it has nothing to do with his programming."

That brings up something you'd been curious about for months but had never found a good way to ask Data about. "His personality, how much of it is programming and how much of it is…him?"

Juliana shakes her head. "Oh, I'm not the right person to ask that. Noonien was the one who knew all the secrets of his programming, but I can tell you what I suspect. Noonien programmed him with certain qualities, with some input from me: his ethical program, a desire to learn, his need to create, an urge to seek connection with humanity. But we couldn't predict how his neural net would grow or how he would use the qualities we gave him. I believe a great deal of what truly makes Data the man we know has nothing to do with his programming, which is what Noonien wanted all along. He was our child, and like a child, he had to learn to spread his own wings and fly. Noonien wanted to create a being who could make his own decisions, who could become his own person and dream his own dreams separate from his wiring and his coding. And like any parent, I hope we gave him a good foundation to grow from, but there's only so much responsibility we can claim for the man he grew into."

You smile a little. You had long suspected that those little acts of thoughtfulness and kindness, his connection to you, his tenderness towards Spot, the passion behind his kisses, that they were all something beyond his programming, the part of him that made him who he truly was: his soul, if such a thing was possible.

You look up and find him at the bar, nodding amiably and wearing his cute little smile as Commander Riker and Dr. Crusher chat with him. You catch his eye and smile at him, and he tilts his head, unmistakable fondness in his gaze. Riker claps him on the back and the momentary connection between you is broken, but you still find yourself glancing down and blushing happily.

Your skin prickles, and you look up to find Juliana watching you knowingly. When she sees you've noticed her again, she arches an eyebrow with a smile. "Powerful, isn't it? Young love? There's nothing else like it in the entire galaxy, and I'm so very happy that the two of you have found it together. I remember so well how it was with me and Noonien – the blushes, the whispers, the little touches that felt like wildfire, the kisses, oh the kisses." She sighs deeply. "Treasure every moment of it, dear."

You think about the last two months since Lore's attack. You've needed the space, and you don't regret not pushing yourself, but you feel a twinge of longing for how much closer the two of you could have become in those months all the same.

Juliana takes a casual sip of her tulaberry wine and shoots you a mischievously inquisitive look. "So tell me, dear, I'm quite curious – have you discovered his dirty talk subroutine yet?"

You choke and punch spurts painfully out your nose, causing your eyes to water. Juliana nonchalantly slides a glass of water over to you. You fumble for it and take sips in between coughs and rub at your watering eyes with your sleeve.

When you've gotten your choked coughs under control, Juliana raises her eyebrows at you. "I'm going to take that as a no."

You can feel the flaming heat of a blush all the way to your ears, and you take another sip, more to have something to do and to avoid Juliana's sparkling eyes than to subdue further coughs. You can almost feel your eyes bugging out of your head as you try to imagine anything even remotely dirty coming out of Data's impeccably polite mouth.

"Oh, no need to look so scandalized, dear," Juliana remarks. "It's not really all that extreme, as his father and I didn't feel that would match his personality. But we – or rather I – felt he needed to have a more…romantic…vocabulary that wasn't so clinical as his regular speech patterns. Noonien did most of the programming, of course, but I had a good deal of input in many areas, including that one. It's too bad he hasn't used it with you yet; that subroutine was one of my favorites to help create and I'm very curious how effective it turned out to be."

You nod, still blushing furiously, and wonder absently whether you're more shocked to discover that Data has a dirty talk subroutine or that your boyfriend's mother is casually chatting with you about it in the middle of Ten Forward.

Still, as embarrassing as the topic is, you can't help but admit that you're intrigued, and it opens the doorway to a question that's been plaguing you ever since you first starting dating your android boyfriend. "Juliana?" You hesitate, feeling a little shy and also not wanting to sound like you're criticizing her husband's work. "About his…his sexual programming, why did you and Dr. Soong give him that, but not a romance subroutine? I always thought it was a little strange that he knows fifty ways to kiss, but he had to write his own subroutine to learn how to be romantic."

Juliana is nodding half-way through your question. "Oh, it's quite simple really. And Noonien only programmed him with twenty-eight ways of kissing, so anything else he's learned on his own. But as to your question, it all comes down to instinct, dear."

You wrinkle your nose (which is still burning a little) and crease your brow. "Instinct?"

"Yes, instinct." Juliana nods, eyes bright. "Humans are born with certain near-universal instincts, and Data's programming essentially fills in those same gaps. Noonien was very particular about it; he wanted Data to learn and grow as organically as possible, to be as human as possible. The goal was to create programming for Data that would help him become more human-like, but that at the same time would not interfere with his personhood. His sexual programming is a stand-in for what would be instinctive for a human: the technical knowledge of what to do combined with a natural urge to share certain experiences with others. Noonien, of course, left room for Data to develop his own preferences and desires in this area just like a human, but we hoped that giving him the technical knowledge would help him and drive his curiosity to learn more.

"Romance on the other hand, well, that is much more complex and personal than simply figuring out how parts fit together and what feels mutually pleasurable. It's about two people connecting and creating emotional bonds, and that's not something that can be programmed. It's something that both of us knew Data would have to figure out for himself. Thus we left those areas of his programming for him to design for himself."

Your cheeks dimple in a smile as you remember how Data was early in your couplehood, when he'd been trying to navigate romance like a mathematical formula and how stilted and awkward he'd come across. "On one of our first dates, he purposefully locked us both in the Jeffries Tubes because he'd read about situations like that in romance stories. But once we were both stuck in there together, he had no idea what to do. He spent the next forty minutes telling me facts about cats until I finally got him to kiss me. It was adorable."

Juliana's laughter tinkles like a bell. "Oh, I would have given anything to see that! How funny!"

You grin; Juliana's good humor is infectious. "He's learned a lot since then, but he's still an absolute dork." You look over to where your boyfriend is kneeling down, accepting handmade birthday cards from a cluster of school children. "I wouldn't have him any other way."

Reminiscing about him and your early days together lights an alluring warmth in your chest. You think of the package from Risa waiting tucked in your belongings, and the tantalizing image that's been haunting you for the last two weeks springs unprompted into your mind, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers tingle, suddenly longing to run along pale, smooth skin, and your lips burn with the thought of phantom android kisses. The sudden intense need to have him in your arms catches you off guard.

You find Juliana watching you with a knowing expression, and you duck your head, blushing brilliantly once again. A moment later, you feel Juliana's hand on your arm. "There's no shame in being madly in love with a handsome young man, my dear. But if you don't mind me asking, I have a rather personal question."

You frown a little. "Yes?"

"Well, you obviously love each other and your attraction to him is as clear as starlight, but I get the distinct impression that you haven't…well…explored a good deal of what his programming has to offer. I'm guessing his dirty talk subroutine isn't the only one you haven't discovered yet. Do you mind if I ask why that is?"

Your breath catches unpleasantly and a sudden panic grips you, but then you look into Juliana's kind eyes and see the genuine concern written there. She's a mother; of course, she's able to pick up on the things that you haven't said aloud. Unsure how she'll respond, you swallow, but then you make up your mind.

"When we starting dating, we both wanted to take things slow. We liked the idea of savoring each new step with one another, not rushing it. And for the first two months that we were together, each new step we took was like pure magic. But then…something happened."

Haltingly, you tell her about Lore, about your fear and about your inner battle of feeling like you need to take things extra slow warring with the simultaneous desire for deeper intimacy with your lover. It feels good to talk to someone about it, especially someone like Juliana. You notice the pain on her face at the mention of Lore's name, but otherwise she remains quiet and attentive while you talk.

"I had a similar experience," Juliana says when you finish. "Not quite the same, but similar. When the Crystalline Entity attacked the colony at Omicron Theta, I was very badly injured. I barely lived. Noonien and I were the only survivors. After I recovered, for months I was terrified of going outside, so much as stepping out the door. I knew in my mind that I was safe, but I was so afraid that the Entity would attack again. I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for Noonien. He was so patient with me. His love is what kept me together those months after the attack, when nothing and nowhere felt safe except his arms. Perhaps Data can do the same for you, if you let him."

You look over at Data again. He's sitting at the bar now. The school children have left to swarm the cake table, except for one boy who remains at Data's side, sitting on a stool next to him. They're both sipping smoothies and clearly engaged in conversation, and there's a familiarity between them that surprises you a little.

"I…I do want more," you admit in a voice barely above a whisper and realize it's the first time you've admitted your desire out loud. "I've been wanting more for a while, but I don't know how to describe it. It's like I feel stuck. It's like I'm afraid to take the next step with him."

"Two months after we fled from Omicron Theta, Noonien asked me to go stargazing with him. I was so afraid of going outside and looking up at the sky, so terrified that I'd see that terrible white light again destroying everything I'd ever known and loved. But I trusted Noonien, and so I went with him. He'd built a treehouse, a treehouse of all things if you'd believe it, right there in the middle of the jungle. He helped me up, and then we lay on our backs amongst the treetops and watched the stars. I tell you, taking that first step felt like falling, but thing was, I knew Noonien was there to catch me."

Juliana pats your hand gently. "It might feel like falling to you too, but I think we both know Data is more than capable of catching you."

You continue to watch Data, your heart thumping loudly. The boy finishes his smoothie and slides down off his stool, giving Data a quick hug before darting off to join the other children. The tenderness of Data's returning hug catches at your heart and soul. There's something in the gesture that captures Data's utter selflessness, the truth that he would give his all for those he cares about, even if he were to receive nothing in return. You look back at Juliana. "Why did Dr. Soong make it so that he can't feel pleasure?"

Juliana blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Why can't he feel pleasure?" you respond. "It just seems a bit unfair to me that he can't ever truly receive what he's so good at giving."

Juliana frowns. "I'm not sure what you mean, dear. He can feel pleasure."

Now you're the one caught off guard. "Wait, what?"

Juliana shakes her head. "What would make you think he can't feel pleasure? Noonien was very pleased with that aspect of his programming."

You stutter a little bit. "But…he's told me…he's always told me he can't feel any pleasure."

Sadness passes like a cloud over Juliana's face. "He absolutely can feel pleasure. Has he never shown any enjoyment in his time with you?"

You think of those expressions on his face when you've touched him, the seeming passion behind his kisses and his touches, those soft, exquisite sounds he's made when he's with you. A bubble of hope and intense longing rises up in you. He's told you he can want to be near you and he can desire your touch, but until this moment you hadn't realized how much it pained you to think that he could never enjoy those moments as fully as you and how, perhaps, subconsciously, that knowledge has kept you from seeking out pleasure from him to the extent that you've wished for it.

Perhaps Juliana reads a little of your emotions and thoughts on your face, for she continues before you reply. "He doesn't talk much about it – not to me at least – but I think he learned to believe less in himself when he was young and impressionable. Perhaps at some point he was told by a particularly narrow-minded individual that androids can't feel pleasure…and now he simply believes that he doesn't."

"Like how he insists he can't feel emotion or love," you murmur.

Juliana nods. "Yes, just like that," she agrees. "I'm glad you've noticed that. He's internalized a lot of false ideas about himself very deeply. I wish I could have a word or several hundred with the humans who gave him such a limited view of himself." She clasps your hand. "But if anyone can get him to see the truth about himself, I think it might be you, dear."

You look up into her eyes, surprised by the depth of emotion in her voice. She cares about him, truly cares about him, you realize. You feel the weight of the solemnity of her belief in you and her hope that you can be the one who reaches some deep, injured part of Data. And that's the moment you realize this is what is going to give you the strength and focus to reach for what you want tonight. This is what you want: the ability and opportunity for two souls to reach towards each other and both bring mutual comfort and perhaps healing to one another.

Juliana squeezes your hand, that mischievous gleam glinting behind her grave expression once again. "Give him a night to remember, dear. And do make sure to ask him about his dirty talk subroutine; I suspect you'll both like it."

Without further ado, she rises, flashes you a bright smile, and heads into the crowd to mingle further.

Your mind still filled with these new revelations, you rise as well and slowly make your way over to the bar where Data is still sitting, at the moment free from well-wishers. You slide onto the stool next to him and lay your cheek against his shoulder. You feel him shift as he turns his head to look down at you. "How's it going?" you ask.

He considers his response briefly. "It is going well, I believe. It is my opinion that I am…enjoying myself."

You smile against the fabric of his uniform. "I'm glad to hear it."

You look down at the countertop in front of Data, where there is a pile of handmade cards from the children. The one on top features two stick figures, one clearly Data, the other a child holding his hand. Above the drawing is written: "Happy birthday, Data! From your favorite android, Timothy." You raise your eyebrows slightly, wondering about the story behind the message. Whatever it is, the pile of cards is evidence of a clear truth: that Data has positively touched so many lives, your own included.

You stroke your hand softly up his back, memorizing every wrinkle in his jacket and hint of his form underneath. For a short while, the two of you sit in warm, fond silence, enclosed in a pleasant bubble of each other's presence amid the celebratory noise and bustle around you. Finally, Data speaks again. "I observed that you were becoming acquainted with my mother. How do you find her?"

You smile. "She seems like a lovely, sweet person. She also seems like she can be a bit of a handful though."

Data frowns. "A handful? I do not believe I understand your meaning."

You remember that mischievous twinkle in Juliana's eyes when she dropped the dirty talk bomb on you. "Let's just say she had some very juicy information about you."

You glance up to find Data giving you a look that you would swear contained mild panic. "She told you about me 'streaking' the colonists, did she not?" he asks hesitantly, and you can hear the subtle hints of mortification in his voice.

You snort with laughter. "You what?"

His chagrined expression deepens. "I take it then that she did not tell you about that story." He pauses and you see the dread of realization pass through his golden eyes. "But I just did."

"Oh, yes you did." You're still chortling. "And I am so getting that full story."

At that moment, the music changes to a slow waltz. You turn in your seat and look up at the music ensemble on the stage area. Commander Riker is hovering suspiciously near the ensemble and when he sees you looking, he gives you a huge wink and grin and jerks his head towards the open area where people have been dancing. You grin back and turn to your boyfriend to tug his arm. "Come on, Data. Dance with me."

He leads you onto the floor and gently takes your hand, guiding you into the sway of the dance. Your bodies are close enough to nearly be touching. You glide your hand over his broad shoulders, holding yourself to him. The rhythm of his steps is precise, flawless.

"So, Data," you say, "I've been wondering something. Should I be calling this your birthday or your activation day?"

Data considers your question with that careful precision that he always displays. After a moment, he responds. "Although it is the latter that is technically correct, I believe the term I find myself preferring is 'birthday'. Until today, whenever I acknowledged the significance of this date, I would have considered it the day of my activation, and that is perhaps still what it is in the most literal sense. However, although I was not born in any traditional sense, I do believe that at the moment of my activation, a new life form was brought into the world and into being, which could be considered a birth. I do not know whether I possess a soul in any sense of the word, but I clearly possess a sentient consciousness of some type and I believe that is sufficient to consider what occurred that day to be a birth."

You stroke your fingers over his right shoulder blade, and through his shirt your fingers brush over the small, secret hidden switch. As you always do since the day he revealed that tiny spot to you, you feel a rush of intimacy with him as your hand rests protectively over his vulnerability. The knowledge that this strong, incredible being trusts you is like nothing else in the world.

You nuzzle a little bit into his neck, and his fingers on your waist stray down a touch to cradle your hips. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you feel far away from the rest of the world, here in this moment with your android.

The song ends, and the soothing rhythm of Data's movements ceases. You remain in each other's arms, both reluctant to let go. Finally, you go to pull away from him, but he slides his hand along your jaw, cradling your face, and lowers a smoldering, if soft, kiss to your lips. Maybe it's just your imagination and your own cravings, but you could swear you taste the longing on him.

After far too short a moment, he draws back from you, though he still holds you tenderly. "And how about you?" he inquires. "You have not told me whether or not you are enjoying my birthday party."

You smile a little. "It reminds me of my childhood. I don't think I've been to a full-blown birthday party since I was ten. It was sweet of Commander Riker and Geordi to organize this for you." You stroke your hand up his arm. "They really love you. Everyone here does."

Data hesitates, as if unsure if he should speak or not. "It is an experience about which I have been curious for a long time, but I have never before been invited to a birthday party, much less had my own. However, as much of an intriguing and enjoyable experience as this has been, I have been unable to stop a significant portion of my thoughts from considering the possibility that you and I might spend part of my birthday alone."

You're surprised by the hesitancy in his voice, as if he's unsure whether you'd be offended by such a suggestion. You press your cheek to his, your lips at his ear. "I've been counting on it," you whisper to him. "I may or may not have a little surprise for us to share together," you add, letting your voice go soft and sultry, hoping it is clear to him what the general nature of said surprise might be.

He turns his face and nuzzles his lips against your cheek. "Curious," he murmurs. "It would seem that a part of my sexual programming is attempting to activate without my command to do so."

Aware that you're still in a public area, but feeling increasingly hot and bothered yourself, you resist the increasingly powerful urge to let your hands stray. You don't want to rush him away from his own birthday party, but at the same time, you aren't sure how long you can successfully keep your hands to yourself, especially now with the promise of what lies ahead before the night is over.

Data's hands twitch against your hips, and you wonder if he's fighting a similar sensation. When he speaks, his voice sounds oddly strained. "The party has now been going for precisely two hours and eleven minutes, and I have spent one hour and twenty-three minutes socializing with various individuals, eighteen minutes cutting the cake and eating it with other accompanying treats, sixteen minutes, forty-two seconds dancing with you, twelve minutes, eight seconds unwrapping birthday presents and reading cards, and one minute, ten seconds breaking the piñata. I believe I have sufficiently experienced all the pertinent elements of a birthday party."

You look over Data's shoulder and see Juliana at the edge of the dance floor. When she sees you've noticed her, she makes a broad shooing motion in your direction. The message is clear enough, and the burning pull in your lower belly urges you to obey.

Data thanks Commander Riker and Geordi for their "excellent organizational skills" and assures them that he has thoroughly enjoyed his first birthday party, then politely excuses himself. From the knowing look that the two other bridge officers exchange, it's clear that they have a good idea about how Data wants to spend the rest of his birthday evening, and their mutual grins suggest that they fully support it. Data is stopped and congratulated several more times by various guests as you work your way out of the room, but finally the door of Ten Forward hisses shut behind you, and you and Data are finally alone.

Almost the instant the door closes, Data turns to you and kisses you, catching you off guard. The open-mouthed caress is filled with a yearning you've never felt from him before, but you return it happily. Your stomach flips and flutters, as if you were riding a roller coaster, and heat pulses deep inside you; you hadn't realized how desperately you'd been longing for this. You twine your fingers into his hair, pulling his head down against you, and give yourself into the blissful sensation of his lips and tongue.

He breaks the kiss after a minute or two, and when he looks at you, those golden eyes are unbearably sultry and you know his sexual programming is fully up and running. "If it is your wish, we should perhaps continue in a space where we are less likely to be interrupted."

"Come back to my quarters," you say breathily, your lips still burning and tingling from his touch. "I have something to grab for us, and then we can spend the evening in your quarters."

Less than ten minutes later, the doors to Data's quarters hiss shut and beep satisfyingly as they lock, promising you both all the privacy you could desire.

For some reason, you suddenly feel nervous. You're keenly aware of Data's intense gaze, but the open curiosity on his face fills your chest with a softness like down feathers. "I…I picked up a couple little things on Risa," you say. You pick up the first of the two packages and hand it to him, a little embarrassed by how sweaty your palms are.

Data doesn't seem to mind however, for he takes it tenderly and opens it to reveal the collar you picked out for Spot. His eyebrows lift along with the corner of his mouth. "Hmm!" he says, before looking up and around, raising his voice. "Spot, Y/N has expressed her affections for you by providing you with a new accessory."

The next several minutes are diverted into looking for Spot, whom Data ultimately finds behind the couch. He coaxes her out and holds her while you fix the collar around her neck. Data proceeds to coo over her in a display of utter adorableness that has your heart aching just as much as the corners of your mouth and your cheeks.

After Spot has been sufficiently adored, Data rejoins you on the coach, that bright curiosity back in place. "I assume the collar is not the 'little surprise' you spoke of earlier," he says. "You insinuated that you had something of a more romantic nature for us to share together."

Your hands are trembling. You could still back out, tell him that the packages got mixed up and that you need to go back to your quarters for the right one, where you could swap it out with a more conventional gift. But at the same time, that alluring image from Risa hangs before your eyes, and you know if you back out now, you'll regret never taking this chance with him. You pull out the second package.

"Yes, I…I got this from Risa for us," you say, voice shaking. "It's a little self-indulgent on my part, so I hope you don't mind. I…I hope you like it."

Data slips his fingers over your hand. "Y/N," he says seriously. "I know for certain I would like whatever you chose to get me as a gift, simply because it was you who gave it."

You swallow, throat clogged with emotion, then lay the small package in his lap. Your heart pounds so hard you can hear it in your ears as his long, nimble fingers unwrap the paper, finally revealing your gift.

At first glance, it appears to be an intricate necklace, beginning with a silver choker embellished with delicate azure crystal flowers, each petal lovingly shaped. From it drape loops of chain as delicate as dew-encrusted spider silk. Two thicker chains hang lower, connected together by one of the thinner links. Where the thicker chains meet the thinner, there are two rings of azure blue petals that match those around the choker.

Data holds it up carefully, displaying that genuine curiosity that is so signature to him. "The workmanship appears to be Risian with subtle hints of Endrin neo-floric influence. Intriguing." He looks back at you. "However, I am uncertain that I understand its significance."

You feel your blush creeping from your cheeks all the way to your ears. "It's…it's body jewelry, Data."

He examines it again, head tilted to the side, then makes a small sound of understanding. "Mm, I see now. The choker goes around the wearer's neck, with the thinner chains draping over the chest. These rings-" He delicately fingers the azure petals suspended from the thicker chains "-I presume attach in some manner to the wearer's nipples, with this final chain hanging between them over the sternum."

"That's right," you answer.

He looks back at you. "The design is quite aesthetically pleasing, but I assume your intention in buying it for me goes beyond a passive visual examination."

And now, finally you give voice to that mental image that has been haunting you since the moment you laid eyes on the jewelry. "I…I keep imagining you wearing it. The silver against your gold skin. Those blue flowers. I can hardly imagine anything more beautiful or sexier in the whole universe." A rush of self-conscious uncertainty floods through you that comes out in a hesitant stutter. "I…I understand if it's not really your thing though. You don't have to wear it. I just thought maybe-"

You trail off as he places his fingertips against your lips. There is immeasurable softness in his eyes. "Y/N, I can think of few gifts more special to me than one which brings you the joy and excitement of which you speak. I wish very much to share in the joint enjoyment that my wearing your gift could bring us both."

You hadn't realized you'd been holding your breath, but it comes out now in a shaky exhale as the hard knot in your chest dissolves, replaced by a surge of giddy excitement. "You like it then?"

That flash of almost-mischief that sometimes flickers in Data's expression is there for a second and gone. It reminds you of Juliana, and you wonder for a moment if he's his mother's son just as much as his father's. "I believe I will like it far more when I am wearing it."

Well, that's an invitation if ever you heard one. You reach towards him, body leaning forward eagerly, and he turns to display his back to you, a clear invitation to undo his zipper. You scoot up next to him on the couch, your knee bumping into his hip, and slide the zipper downward. As you do so, you nuzzle forward to kiss the back of his neck where his hair meets his collar.

Even now, when you've seen him half a dozen times without his shirt, the sight of him still encourages a heady swell of desire from your lower belly. It still makes your head spin, not only that a man so beautiful can exist, but that he is yours.

You reach for the jewelry, taking it gently from his hands, and take a moment just to hold it, feeling the silky links in your hand and the smooth glossiness of the crystal flower petals. You feel equal parts nervous and giddy. Slowly, you begin to lift your hands.

To your surprise, he stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist. You look up to find his expression serious, his lips pressed firmly together. When he sees he has your full attention, he speaks. "Y/N, before we proceed further, there is a question I feel the need to ask you."

Your breath catches. "Yes?"

Data bobs his head. "I wish to understand your reasons for spending this time with me and giving me this gift. Before we continue, is this something you truly wish to share with me, or are you offering me this intimacy simply because it is my birthday?"

His question breaks over you like a shock wave. "Data!" you exclaim. "Of course I want this with you. Why would you think otherwise?"

He is silent for a touch too long. His eyes flicker momentarily down, almost as if he were ashamed or uncertain, before they return to your face. "Then you are certain you will enjoy this?"

Doubt begins to squirm uncomfortably in your chest. "Why wouldn't I enjoy spending time with my boyfriend?" He hesitates again and you lay the jewelry aside, resting your hand on top of his. "Data, is something wrong?"

He's unnervingly still, more so than any organic being could achieve, and for a moment you're afraid that he's malfunctioning. When he speaks, his voice is so soft that you can only just make out his words. "Then you are not growing tired of me?"

A second shock wave hits you and instinctively, impulsively, you take his face in your hands so that has little choice but to look at you. The fire inside you smolders down to a background glow – still there, but taking a back seat in the face of this sudden change in Data's behavior. "Sweetheart, love, of course I'm not growing tired of you. I love you. I adore you. Why would you think I'm getting tired of you?"

Data gazes back unblinkingly, his expression totally neutral, which in and of itself you've learned is significant. He seems almost…wary. "I have noticed that over the last two months, your interest in me has decreased by eight point two percent. Although you have continued to spend time with me, you seem less interested in exploring anything further or deeper with me as had regularly been the case prior."

He pauses briefly, then continues. "When I began this relationship with me, it was with the knowledge that one day I would reach a point where I could no longer satisfy you and our relationship would eventually terminate. Despite this, I decided it was worth the likely conclusion for the chance to get to know you and create memories with you that I would be able to treasure even if you were no longer part of my life. If you are reaching this point, where the novelty of what I have to offer in our relationship has begun to fade, I would not wish for you to continue on merely for my sake."

Now it's distress swirling in your stomach, along with a faintly nauseated sensation. You feel tears gathering at the corner of your eyes at the flat tone in Data's voice and the emptiness in his unblinking eyes. "I'm not growing tired of you, Data, and I'm not going to. What makes you think I would?"

His eyes meet yours, unblinking, boring into your soul. "Because in every romantic encounter I have experienced, the pattern has been that as soon as I have nothing novel left to offer, I am no longer wanted."

It feels like being punched, the thought of anyone treating this gentle, sweet android with such dismissiveness, as if he were only an object to be used and discarded. You remember Juliana's words about Data's proclivity to believe the lies he has too often heard about himself, and you realize this is far more important than any sexy jewelry or blissful make out session.

You scoot back in the couch so that you're sitting side by side with him, your body still twisted slightly to face him. As you do so, he attempts to stop you. "Y/N, if it is your desire to proceed with the jewelry, I do not wish to stop you."

You touch his lips softly. "No. No, I do still want that, but I think we need to talk about this for a moment." You take his hand, your fingers curling between his. "That is, if you want to."

Data nods in acknowledgement. "I am amenable to that course of action."

You mirror his nod and take a deep breath. "I promise you, Data, the last two months have had nothing to do with me losing interest. After Lore…" you swallow painfully, "…after that, I felt….stuck. I wanted more, I wanted it so, so much, and I still do, but I don't think I was ready. I needed time to figure myself out and what I want, I think. Plus, both our schedules have been so crazily busy."

The corners of Data's lips twitch and he blinks, breaking that unnerving mechanical stare. "Yes, our respective schedules have been significantly busier than average," he concedes.

"But on Risa," you continue, "I finally had the time to think about you…about us. And I was able to think about what an absolute gift knowing you has been in my life. And I'm so sorry you thought I was losing interest. I wish you'd said something."

"I considered that course of action," he responds. "However, I was concerned that you might misunderstand my motives and feel as if I were pressuring you to give me intimacy that you were not in fact interested in giving. I would not have wished for you to share time and actions with me that you felt merely obligated to grant."

You recall your thoughts about him from earlier, that he would give his all to those he loves even if he received nothing in return. Your heart aches for him. "I wouldn't have felt pressured, not if you had explained it that way. I want to make sure you feel loved and appreciated and that you know how much I care about you. I don't know what your experiences in the past were, but it's not a pattern that's going to continue on my watch. You're a person, Data, not a curiosity to be discarded the moment you're not helpful or interesting anymore. And heaven help me if I don't get it through your positronic brain tonight just how special you are to me."

The corners of his lips twist upward and his eyes soften to their familiar liquid gold. "I find myself greatly anticipating the opportunity to prove my specialness to you thoroughly tonight."

You reintroduce a hint of playfulness to your voice. "Well, then come over here, birthday boy, and let's see how you look in this jewelry."

The fire that you'd set aside to smolder instantly flares back up, and a shiver ghosts down your spine at the instant eagerness that returns to Data's face. He picks the jewelry back up and presents it to you, then twists his torso to face you, presenting his naked chest to your whims.

You clasp the choker around his neck, your fingers sliding under his hair to snap it shut. As you suspected, the silver stands out stunningly against his pale gold throat and dark hair, and the blue flowers glitter teasingly at you. Gently, you arrange the thinner chains so that they drape gracefully across his chest, enjoying the silky smoothness of his bioplast as you do so. The entire time, you're keenly aware of his eyes fixed on you.

You lift the heavier outer chains where they hang loosely at his sides. The rings of blue petals with their empty centers shine in the artificial light of Data's quarters. Carefully, reverently almost, you slide the first ring over Data's right nipple, twisting it gently so that it tightens until it's firmly in place. You repeat the actions on the left side, then lean back to take him all in.

There are no words for how utterly beautiful and sexy Data looks in that moment. As you hoped it would, the pattern of the draped chains accentuate the broadness and shape of his beautiful chest. The silver gleams against his pearlescent skin. The deep blue petals draw delicious attention to his pretty rose-gold nipples that now form the center of each of the two flowers, simply begging to be lavished with all kinds of attention. His sweet, soft expression is the perfect finishing touch to the gorgeous ensemble.

He's so much hotter than you ever dared to dream he'd be.

"Data," you choke. "Oh god, Data."

His expression turns impossibly shy. "Is it…satisfactory?"

Your response is to hurl yourself enthusiastically onto him before your insides burn right through your skin.

He falls back gently against the couch and catches you, his hands clasping your waist, as your lips crush against his in a passionate kiss. The sensations of wet warmth and silken skin fill your universe with white-hot stars. Every inch of your skin tingles and flares as your tongues perform their own pleasurable waltz in a sultry imitation of your earlier dance. You run your hands up along his bare shoulder blades, caressing him deeply, your stomach and chest pressed tight against his. The insides of your thighs squeeze against the gentle swell of his hips. You glide your fingers along the edge of his collar, feeling how his soft skin meets the smooth metal, then you dig them deep into the thick locks of dark hair. Oh, you think as you moan softly into his mouth, this is exactly what you'd been craving.

Data responds in like, kissing you back with unveiled enthusiasm. He's eager and boyish, like the times you've seen him in his Holmes holodeck program or that time a few days ago when he discovered the existence of string telephones and rounded up you, Geordi, and Counselor Troi to thoroughly test it all over the ship for literal hours. You love that so much about him: that everything is fresh and bright and exciting and interesting through those golden eyes. Every moment with him is a new gift.

His fingers toy with the bottom of your shirt, then he slips his hands up underneath the garment, and you feel his long fingers gliding over the bare skin of your lower back. At the same time, his lips part from yours and he nuzzles against your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head back for him. You do so and gasp when you feel his mouth press hard against your throat. He sucks at your skin, then licks with the flat of his tongue, and the combination of sensations has you reeling. You stare at the ceiling, eyes glazed with pleasure and half shut, and whimper as Data's hands dance against the bare skin of your back and his lips and tongue continue to do wonderful things to your throat.

Suddenly, he wraps his arms more tightly around you and stands with easy grace as if you weigh nothing to him, his lips returning to yours. You wrap your legs around his hips, holding yourself to him as he carries you, your noses bumping and rubbing together as you find the rhythm of your kiss. You feel him moving, walking whilst never breaking the kiss, then suddenly he's leaning forward and releasing you. There's a split second of exhilarating free fall, then you sink into pure softness. You realize after a second that you're laid out on your back in his bed.

He quickly slides himself onto the bed after you, resting on his hands and knees and straddling you. You gaze up at him with awe, torn between staring into his face and at the silver chains hanging from his chest. From your exquisite point of view, his shoulders seem even broader than usual, and you can see all the individual shapely lines of his arms pressed down into the bed on either side of you. Your insides are simply melting into liquid heat.

On a sudden impulsive whim of bravery, you reach down to where the black line of his dress pants meets the golden cream of his bare stomach. You hook your fingers over the waistband and tug just slightly downward, then pause to give him a chance to react. He tilts his head to the side, his lips parting in that expression of soft curiosity that you love so deeply, then his eyebrows rise sharply. He lifts one hand and places it over the top of yours against his waist. For a second, you stare into each other's eyes, then he closes his hand over yours and helps you tug his pants downward.

It would be a lie to say that getting Data out of his pants is an entirely graceful process, but it's a new and exciting one that ends with the beautiful android on his back on the bed while you tug off his boots and slide his bunched pants over his feet to free him of them at last. You sit back on your heels and gaze down at the sight below you.

He's now dressed in nothing but his black, standard-issue Starfleet boxer briefs that leave decidedly little up to the imagination. They hug the shape of his smooth thighs and show off even more that perfect sculpted stomach. His legs are long and elegant, once again crafted to perfectly mimic the musculature of a fit adult male, and you run your hands down them, feeling the curve of the artificial muscles underneath the flawless bioplast.

You sit back again, admiring him as he looks up at you with that soft, sweet expression, and try to decide what will sate the cravings clamoring inside of you. Finally, your eyes stray back up to his chest and that utterly alluring jewelry clasped to him. Your stomach knots and flips wonderfully.

In the reverse to the position you were in minutes ago, it is now you sliding yourself up Data's body, straddling him on the bed beneath you. His head and shoulders rest against the pillows, propping up his torso perfectly and putting him on full display for you. You shiver as your body slides against his, aware of just how little he's wearing.

You begin by stroking him, starting at the low rim of his boxers and working your way slowly, methodically upward. You watch his eyes sink half-shut, lips parted, that sensual expression that you absolutely cannot ever get enough of spreading over his face. You ghost your fingers along the underside of his pectoral muscles to the outside of his chest, briefly brushing against the chain hanging between his nipples. His tongue slips out, moistening his lips in a fascinatingly human way. You sit on his hips, leaning forward and deeply massaging the sides of his chest, purposefully avoiding the chains. His fingers twitch impulsively.

You lean further, dipping down to teasingly kiss the very corner of his mouth as you continue to rub his sides. He makes a soft, almost inaudible sound in response. You kiss down his throat and nuzzle the underside of his choker with your lips, then move further down, kissing and occasionally scraping gently with your teeth. You feel his hips shift slightly under yours, sending an electric jolt through your whole body.

Finally, you slide your hands back inward, over his sternum, and run your fingertips along the chain lying across the center of his chest. Gently, you hook the chain over your finger and tug ever so gently, watching your handsome android as you do so.

His head drops back into the pillows, baring the full length of his long, beautiful throat adorned with that silver choker. A sound escapes his rose-gold lips: soft and sweet and keening. The pleasurable knot in your stomach tightens further. You pinch the chain between your forefinger and thumb, giving you heightened control over it, and begin to play, experimenting with pressures, speeds, and movements, and carefully watching his reactions to make sure he's enjoying himself.

After several minutes, you've determined that Data seems to like it best when you tug the chain slowly and gently taut, then release it and repeat the motion. It is certainly what is getting the best and hottest reactions from him, and your insides are nothing short of molten at how sexy he looks with his back arched, his head tossed back, hair tousled, soft little sounds of appreciation bubbling from his lips.

But despite your guesses, you want to make sure, so you gently ease the chain and reach up to cup his face. "Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?"

His eyes flicker back open and he tilts his head sideways on the pillow. "Yes," he whispers. "It…it is an intriguing experience." You smile at how flustered he sounds. "Yes." He nods his head. "I believe you made an excellent selection of a birthday gift." He looks sweetly up at you. "Are you finding that it meets your expectations, darling?"

You caress his cheek. "Oh, Data, I can't even begin to tell you how sexy you look. It's perfect. My only regret is that we didn't do something like this sooner."

He reaches up and mirrors you, cupping your cheek. "Y/N, by your own admission, if we had gone further before now, you would not have been ready. When I was first becoming sentient, I wished to learn and know and experience so much more, and yet, forcing my neural pathways to grow before they were ready would have caused great harm to my overall system and might even have led to cascade failure. Perhaps this is similar. Perhaps you needed to wait for the correct pathways to form before you could properly enjoy the experience."

Of course he's right, this innocently wise android who is so perceptive at the same time. You can't help but smile fondly at him. "You're right, but I'm certainly enjoying it now." You close your eyes as he glides his thumb along your cheekbone. "Watching your pleasure is something that will never grow old."

Immediately, he frowns. "Y/N," he says in a serious voice, "I must remind you that I am incapable of feeling pleasure."

You poke him in the middle of his chest. "Except that you can feel pleasure, you dork. Juliana told me you could. Dr. Soong specifically designed you to be able to feel pleasure. I just knew that was what you were feeling all this time and you were just being obtuse about it."

He goes so still and quiet, but the spark of hope that lights in his eyes wrenches at your heart. "I can feel pleasure?" he asks in that quiet, awed voice, almost as if he's afraid that if he says it, it will slip away from him like a morning mist.

"Yes," you repeat firmly. "Yes, Data, you can."

"I can feel pleasure," he repeats, eyes still wide. "I can feel…pleasure."

His eyes refocus on you and there's a new intensity to them beyond his sexual programming. "I can feel pleasure." He pulls you down against himself, kissing you deeply and wrapping his arms around you, letting his hands slide down to your hips. You kiss him back passionately, caressing your hands up his stomach and over his broad chest, stroking your fingers over his firm nipples and still toying with the delicate chain hanging between them. He makes soft noises of what you now know for certain is pleasure against your mouth as your tongue continues to twine with his, his fingers tightening against your hips.

He rolls you both over, so that your back is once again against the bed sheets, as he continues to nuzzle and kiss you with fervor. After a minute, he pushes himself off you and gazes down at you with a tenderness that has you melting. "Y/N," he says and hesitates. "Y/N, I am pleased to...to experience pleasure with you." He still seems amazed by the revelation.

"So am I," you answer. "Though I was pretty sure that's what you had going on all along."

His eyes are so immeasurably gentle. "Y/N, if I have learned one thing about you, it is that you believe in my own humanity oftentimes even more so than myself."

"Well, it's easy for me," you reply. "I get to see your humanity every day, and it's a beautiful thing."

He grows quiet and almost shy. You tip your head to the side against the pillows to watch his face. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and there's a nervous energy about him, as if you can feel the increase of the electricity flow through his neural net. He opens his mouth, closes it, then reopens it. Finally, he speaks in a hesitant voice. "I do not wish to 'switch things up' if you are enjoying our current activities…"

You raise your eyebrow. "But…?"

"But," he continues with a little nod, "but I cannot help but observe the clear enjoyment that you experience each time I have disrobed for you to any degree. I have found myself curious as to whether I might partake in that same enjoyment were I to witness you in a similar state of undress for me. And if so, if you might be willing to explore that possibility with me."

Something new runs through you – a heat or a chill, you're not certain – but it brings in its wake anticipation, excitement, and more than a little shyness. Your cheeks blaze red. "You…you'd like to undress me?"

He nods fervently. "Yes."

Immediately and without bidding, your mind conjures up the phantom sensations of your bare skin pressed against Data's for the first time, his hands roving your body, his eyes devouring you. You remember your thoughts on Risa about letting Data touch you more intimately than anything you had yet shared together and you examine your current feelings. You're nervous, yes, a little embarrassed, yes, but the thought also makes you burn exquisitely.

It's frightening too, but you remember what Juliana said. You know Data will catch you.

"Yes, Data," you answer him a little shakily, placing your hand on his arm. "Yes, I think…I think I'd like to share that with you."

His eyebrows lift and the corners of his mouth perk up instantly, his whole face lighting up. "Truly?"

"Yes, truly," you answer, tapping the tip of his nose. "Anytime you're ready, handsome."

He tilts his head to the side, and you swear there's a deeper gold tint to his cheeks, then he seems to make up his mind. He tenderly takes hold of the bottom hem of your shirt, his fingers so delicate as if he's afraid he'll tear it. The fabric slides against your skin as he pulls it up and off you, his movements slow, deliberate, and careful. There's a sudden rush of cool air against your exposed skin as Data pulls the garment completely away and discards it on the bed beside you.

He pauses, his eyes meeting yours, and there's a silent question in his gaze. You nod to him, letting him know you feel all right and safe, and some almost imperceivable tension eases from his shoulders. He nods back then turns his gaze to your body.

You'd been hoping that things between you and Data might progress to this stage tonight and as such, you'd come prepared. You're wearing a decidedly prettier bra than what you would have ever chosen for yourself: pale blue with lace cutouts along the sides and yellow embroidery over the cups. You're not even sure if Data will notice or enjoy it, but you like the idea of feeling pretty for your handsome android.

You watch his eyes skim methodically over you, from the rim of your skirt up to your chest and shoulders. The expression on his face is one of open curiosity and more than a little wonder. The blush in your cheeks glows on your skin.

After several minutes of silent gazing, his eyes return to yours, soft and awed. "Y/N," he murmurs softly, "you are…very aesthetically pleasing."

Your blush deepens, but you are still caught off guard when he speaks again. "May I continue to remove more of your garments?"

Not trusting your voice, you nod.

This time, he gently slips your skirt down your legs and off, revealing the matching pale blue lace panties you chose for this evening. Faintly, you wonder if he can tell you dressed for him, but your blood is pounding in your ears so hard that coherent thought is becoming difficult. After he removes your skirt, he gently slides his hands up your waist. He traces his fingertip along the gold embroidery of your bra and you shudder when he glides over your nipple. He fingers the lace, then carefully slips his hands around to your back. Between your back and the mattress, you feel his fingers deftly undoing your bra.

The garment comes loose suddenly. Your heart pounds. With all the meticulous carefulness of his mechanical nature, Data slides the straps down your arms then discards your bra entirely.

And just like that, for the first time, you are completely naked from the rim of your panties up in Data's presence.

Shyness washes over you, and you feel the intense urge to cross your arms and cover yourself but you resist, keeping your arms on the bed at your side and allowing him to look to his mechanical heart's content.

And look he does. There's still that sensual light to his eyes caused by his sexual programming, but his most prominent expressions are continued inquisitiveness and wonder. He tilts his head back and forth, as if to look at you from every possible angle, to take in every part of you. You're hyper-aware of your topless body and how fully Data can see you. You shift a little, feeling the intensity of his gaze like a physical touch, until you are hardly able to bare it any longer. You are intimately aware of his hands resting on the bed to either side of you, and suddenly an overwhelming craving for his touch washes over you.

"You know, you're not limited to a visual examination," you tease.

He meets your eyes and you see the recognition as he remembers the words he spoke to you when you were first frozen at the sight of his bare chest. His lips part, his eyes light up, and he lifts himself, leaning on one arm so that the other is free.

His fingers are cool when he touches you, causing a slight shiver to run its way from your shoulders to your toes. He starts at your belly, exploring your navel, the soft flesh over your stomach, and your ribs. Your breathing quickens. He pauses and looks up to your face again, shy and questioning. In response, you reach down to his hand, take it in yours, and lift it to your chest.

He freezes, as if unsure how to proceed, but then his fingers curl gently over the swell of your breast. Your skin feels hot, and you are aware of every single sensation to an almost excruciating degree. He shifts his palm, and you bite your lip to stop from moaning as he rubs against your nipple. Then he begins to stroke gently with his thumb, running it back and forth over the underside of your breast, seemingly mesmerized by the softness and smoothness. Vaguely, through your haze of arousal, you consider how much of his computational abilities are currently focused solely on you, and what an honor that is.

Your heart is pounding so hard that you imagine that he must be able to feel it. You lick your lips, your breath catching. Data glances up to your face. "Is this experience agreeable to you?"

You try to form words around this heady reality of being all but naked in Data's bed, with his hand gently stroking your bare chest. "I'm…I'm realizing how…how much I've been wanting more with you, Data."

He smiles, that small, almost invisible yet unforced smile that one might not even recognize as such unless you knew him well. "And how about you?" you ask. "Are you finding it as enjoyable as you hoped?"

He considers your question for a brief moment, then nods. "Although yours are not the first breasts I have seen, I am finding my systems uniquely affected by you. My sexual programming appears to be shutting down many of my other systems and I am finding it strangely hard to focus on any of the other tasks I have been running during this time. I am additionally experiencing an odd sensation, something I cannot adequately describe. It is like when I have not ingested my biochemical lubricant for too long and my inner workings have begun to stiffen; it is like the sensation of when I ingest my lubricant and suddenly everything is working at optimum efficiency again. It is a feeling of…gratification…of satisfaction. Yes…yes, I believe I am enjoying the experience." That sweet puppy look comes into his eyes. "I believe…it is pleasurable."

The corners of your cheeks dimple with a huge smile. You love how amazed and happy he is at the discovery of his own ability to experience pleasure, and you can't help but admit that you are enjoying that your body has the ability to please him just as much as his does for you. That train of thought leads you back to that particularly juicy bit of information that Juliana shared with you earlier. You reach up and stroke Data's chest, running your finger over the petal rings and down the chain. "So, Data."

He raises an eyebrow. "So, Y/N?"

You raise your own eyebrow back at him. "Your mother says you have a dirty talk subroutine."

Data doesn't seem fazed by this revelation. His lips purse and his eyes slide off to the side as he accesses his systems. After a moment, both eyebrows rise sharply. "Hm!" He refocuses on you. "Yes, that information appears to be correct. I have a subroutine designed specifically to verbally encourage arousal and excitement."

"And you've never mentioned it or wanted to try it out?" you ask, blushing and grinning at the same time.

"It is not a part of my system that I have ever had reason to access," he responds matter-of-factly "I did not know it was something you were curious about. Do you wish for me to activate it now?"

You bite your lip, unsure what exactly you're getting yourself into, but you decide to go for it. "Yes, please."

Data's head twitches mechanically. "Subroutine activated," he says in that monotone voice that indicates he's performing some internal action with his systems. "Level one setting." He twitches again, and his gaze refocuses. You watch him closely, waiting.

He lowers himself back down and lifts his hand to glide his forefinger slowly down your cheek. You wait with bated breath and shiver as he strokes his fingertip teasingly over your lips. Then he whispers in a surprisingly husky voice. "Y/N, you are so beautiful to me. You please me so much. You make me feel more alive – more human – than anything else in the galaxy. I want to kiss and touch every nanometer of you until you know beyond a doubt that you are everything to me."

His hand strays back down, and he cups your breast and squeezes gently, massaging your soft, sensitive skin. He nuzzles his lips up against your cheek, and you feel the faint puff of his breath. You're shivering all over with desire.

"I love how your breath quickens when I touch you, how your heart rate increases when I kiss you, how your skin grows hotter when I am near you. I love setting you on fire and watching you burn for me. I love the way my name sounds on your lips when you moan it."

Oh heavens! Heavens! Hearing him talk like this to you is having a stronger effect than you had ever imagined it would. Your fingers twist in his sheets and you bite your lip, trying desperately to stop yourself from impulsively pressing up against him.

Apparently, he can tell the effect he's having on you. "Do you like it?" he whispers against your cheek and you feel his fingers slide over your bare nipple. He pinches your nub softly between his forefinger and thumb and rolls it back and forth, causing waves of sweet sensation. "Do you like being unclad in my bed? Do you like how I look in your gift to me? Do you like my hands on your bare skin? Do you want more?"

You whimper and twist beneath him. "Yes, yes, yes. Data, I do, yes."

He slowly licks the rim of your ear then places his lips to it. "Then more I shall give."

Data adjusts himself, his movements fluid and graceful. Now he's lying between your legs, his stomach pressed against yours, holding his upper body away from you with one strong arm planted on the bed beside your chest. You are shivering helplessly, undone by how gorgeous he looks, your near-naked body pulsing with heat you can't control, every nerve aware of how close and intimate Data's body is to yours.

He locks gazes with you, liquid, golden heat pooling in his eyes with the intensity of his android stare. Without breaking eye contact with you for so much as a fraction of a second, he lowers himself, his tongue slipping from between his lips, and, still looking you straight in the eyes, he licks a slow, scorching path up the swell of your breast and over your throbbing nipple with the flat of his tongue.

You're unable to contain the soft whine that the sensation drags from your lips, as your fingers knot tightly in the sheets to either side of you. Data licks you again, and you can sense him carefully cataloging every single one of your body's natural responses. This time, he drags his tongue slowly up the underside of your breast, circles your nipple tantalizingly, then trails up to your clavicle, which he mouths gently. The faint friction of his bare stomach against yours as he moves has you yearning to press yourself up harder against him, to relieve just a little of the aching pressure causing every one of your nerves to feel like it is on fire.

Data evidently decides he has given your collarbone sufficient attention, for his tongue strays back down your body. Once again, he circles your nipple, teasing you, before nuzzling his face down into the valley of your chest to rub his nose tenderly against your sternum. One of your hands remains knotted in the blankets at your side, but you instinctively lift your other hand to cradle the back of Data's head, your fingers sinking into his thick, dark hair. He rubs his nose back and forth and kisses the very center of your chest. His tongue ventures out to taste you, and you can sense his warm curiosity with every new moment.

Satisfied apparently for the time being, he lifts his head and seems to consider where to explore next, his head tipped slightly to the side. Your hand remains against his cheek, your fingertips in his hair, and you try to keep still despite your trembling, resisting the urge to guide his mouth back down to your chest.

To your immense relief, he chooses that course for himself after a slow moment of deliberation. He uses the tip of his large nose to rub against your nipple, then tilts his head back to use his tongue against your sensitive flesh once again. The first stroke is soft and flat, the texture of him catching lightly against you, causing a slow pulse of sensation. Before you are prepared however, he immediately switches tactics and rapidly flicks the tip of his tongue against you.

The sudden onslaught of pleasurable sensation causes you to arch your back, your thighs squeezing against his hips, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Daaaata," you gasp in a breathy voice, and he makes a soft humming sound in response to his name that vibrates beautifully against your skin.

He runs his hands up and down your sides, stroking your skin and pressing you to himself. "Yes," he murmurs. "Yes, say my name, Y/N. Let me know how much you enjoy me." Before you can respond further, he lowers his lip to your chest and sucks your nipple gently into his warm, wet mouth.

Part of you has been holding back, whether from shyness or some sense of decorum or something else, you're unsure. But the sheer hotness of this moment – your gorgeous android lying on top of you, his hands on your hips, your breast in his mouth – is too much. You writhe beneath him, reaching up and out to wildly pet every part of him you can reach – his arms, his shoulders, his back – while noises of unfiltered happiness and desire and appreciation spill profusely from your lips.

After only a sparse thirty seconds or so, he's fully adjusted the pressure of his lips to the exact right amount for you to enjoy, no doubt accomplished through his ability to analyze your every reaction instantly and calculate what you are enjoying the most. The sensations of his sucking lips combine with the tingling flicks and touches of his tongue, leaving you as little more than human putty in his strong hands. He cups your other breast, using his fingers to gently play with your tender flesh.

"Oh, Data," you whimper into his hair, gripping the messy dark locks tightly, your fingers buried deep. "Data…Data, you beautiful, amazing, sexy android."

He hums in acknowledgement, and the wonderful vibrations run all the way through your topless body.

He can tell when you're starting to become tired and overstimulated. Gently, he releases your nipple from his lips and caresses your other breast with his fingers one last time, then slides his hand down to your hip. You suddenly realize how tired and relaxed you feel, and as the sensations fade, you feel yourself practically melting into the bed. You feel amazingly warm and fuzzy all over, and your breasts still throb pleasantly from all of Data's attention.

You watch through half-hooded eyes as Data carefully removes the body jewelry from himself and tenderly stows it in what you think of as his drawer of treasures – the place where he keeps his Sherlock pipe, his poker cards, his Starfleet medals, and all the other odds and ends that he cherishes the most. You know him well enough to appreciate the honor it is to have something of yours joining those other beloved trinkets. When he's finished, he returns and lies down next to you, resting his head on the pillow beside you. You reach up and pat at his frowsy tangle of curls, smoothing them back down. His eyes are gentle but no longer sensual, signaling that his sexual program has deactivated.

You're still aware that both of you are all but naked, but there's a quiet intimacy about your shared state of undress now instead of that impassioned heat. You shiver slightly, and Data reaches down your body to tug the blankets up over you, leaving you cocooned in soft warmth. He gives you his tiny smile. "I believe it has been an…excellent…birthday."

You stroke his cheek. "It wasn't even my birthday, and I still think it was excellent."

He kisses you, a cute little peck to your lips. "I must thank you for sharing my birthday with me, and also for your thoughtful and thoroughly enjoyable gift."

You peck him back. "Thank you for letting me share it with you. I can't think of anything else in the universe I would have rather done this evening than share my android boyfriend's birthday."

He picks something up from the bed beside you, and you blush as you realize it's your discarded bra. He touches it with brief curiosity then lays it on his bedside table, but then his eyes turn to you, appraising. "Although my personal experience is limited, I have read a colloquialism that when a woman chooses matching undergarments, she is hoping they will be seen. Is this true?"

So he did notice. You can't help your shy dimpling smile. "Well, I don't know if it's true across the board, but yeah, it was true for me tonight."

Data's expression goes infinitely soft. "Then you were hoping for the opportunity to undress with me? Even before I expressed any desire to see you unclad?"

"Yeah, Data, I was." You nod and run your fingers over the back of his hand.

"Hmm," he says. There's wonder in his golden eyes. "Intriguing."

You lay together for a quiet time after that, and you feel like you are nearly drifting off when he speaks again, his voice more solemn than before. "Y/N, do you truly believe that you will never grow tired of either myself or our relationship?"

His words draw you back out of your sleepy haze. You cup his cheek. "Sweetheart, I can't promise I'll always feel the exact same way all the time, but no, I'm not going to 'get tired' of you. And I'm absolutely not going to toss you out like yesterday's trash. Nobody deserves to be treated like that, and you least of all."

He closes his eyes briefly, almost as if it is still hard for him to hope for the truth of what you say. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is still serious. "Y/N, I have never told you about my prior experiences with romantic relationships."

You prop yourself up on your elbow, giving him your full attention. "And you don't ever have to, if you don't want to."

He considers this for a moment, then nods decisively. "I believe I would like for you to know. Yes, I am certain of it."

He reaches out and twines one lock of your hair around his finger. He plays with it gently as he speaks, and you're struck by what a human gesture it is. "I have told you that at the Academy, I struggled greatly to make connections with my human classmates. Some were simply uncomfortable with the presence of an artificial being, while others behaved in a way towards me that I have since come to realize was cruelty."

His fingers twist round and round the lock of your hair. "In my second year at the Academy, I was invited by one of my classmates who was less afraid of me to attend a party of sorts. Although I was aware that such events happened regularly, I myself had never had the opportunity to attend one, and I was deeply curious by the invitation and so I agreed. I do not know that I could say that I enjoyed myself, but I found the experience intriguing. It was also the first time I had imbibed alcohol, which I found fascinating, despite my inability to become inebriated.

"Partway through the event, a young woman began speaking to me. Replaying the memory, I am quite certain that her behavior would have been considered flirtatious, though at the time I was simply pleased that someone wished to speak to me. I remember that she kept touching me – my arm, my shoulders, my chest. Most humans avoided touching me; it was most interesting."

He pauses briefly. "As the party goers began to disperse, this young woman invited me to accompany her back to her quarters, informing me that her roommate was away studying. I consented and returned with her to her quarters where she proceeded to make her full intentions towards me known. Although I had been activated for five years at that point, I had yet to experience anything of a sexual or romantic nature, and I found myself intrigued by the opportunity she offered me and agreed. I was eager to explore my sexual programming, and I did the best I knew how to please her as well as I could and did everything she requested of me. As best as I could tell, I was successful.

"However, after our coupling, she informed me that she wished for me to leave immediately, and when I required why – seeking to understand if I had offended her in some manner – she refused to explain. I asked if she would ever wish to repeat our intimacy, to which she began to laugh, a reaction I could not reconcile with my question. I saw no cause for humor in any of my words or actions and so inquired what it was that she found humorous."

He releases the lock of your hair. "She told me it was my 'gullibility" that she found so amusing. She then informed me that at the party, she and her friends had been observing me and discussing my android nature. The topic of my sexuality and my anatomy came up and a bet was made that involved the transfer of class credits to anyone in the group who was willing to 'fuck the robot'." The crude word sounds even uglier on Data's gentle lips and all the more harsh for the dead monotone of his voice. "She informed me that she had agree to 'take one for the group' because she needed the credits to pass a critical class and because I was 'decently attractive.' She then told me not to contact her ever again, after which she shut the door in my face."

You can't remember a time in your life when you've wanted to track someone down and beat them to a bloody pulp quite as badly as you do right now. "Oh Data," you say, "oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry that happened to you. What an absolute waste of a human being. I'm so sorry."

He clasps your hand. "I thank you for your concern, but I assure you that I am all right."

From some of the self-depreciating comments he's revealed to you tonight, you're not sure that's entirely true, but you give him the benefit of the doubt.

He continues holding your hand, his thumb rubbing slowly back and forth over your knuckles. "Most recently, several years ago, I became involved in a romantic relationship with a lieutenant aboard the Enterprise. She initially expressed affections for me, and I decided I wished to explore the possibilities of a relationship with her. It was for her that I first developed the romantic subroutine which I have since modified for you."

"What happened?" you ask.

"Our relationship only lasted several days. Although initially she showed great enthusiasm towards me, she quickly became frustrated with my lack of understanding about romance and my inability to express emotion. I was unable to provide her with the emotional satisfaction she desired, and she quickly grew tired of me and initiated the termination of our couplehood several days later."

"Well, she missed out, didn't she?" you say more than a little indignantly, trying to imagine how anyone could be dissatisfied with Data's sweet, attentive, eager-to-learn nature. You snuggle against his chest. "But I guess if she'd had two active brain cells and been smart enough to know just who she'd had, I wouldn't have had the chance to get you all to myself," you tease, rubbing your nose up against his.

He nuzzles you back. "That is indeed a positive outcome from the experience." He goes quiet again, this time for a longer stretch, and the feeling of deep melancholy grows heavier around him again. "I had a third romantic encounter," he says in a very quiet voice, "which took place between the other two. I did, however, make the promise not to reveal the details of that encounter with anyone, which I wish to honor. I will only say that the experience was deeply special to me and the person I shared it with was someone I cared for greatly and respected. I believed the experience to be equally special to the one I shared it with, and I thought I had successfully pleased her and done everything she needed and wanted of me."

He pauses, and there's a weight like gravity in that silence. "Evidently, I was mistaken, for the next time I saw her, she expressed both anger and unhappiness at our encounter and requested that I behave as if it had never happened. We never spoke of it again, and to this day, I do not know what I did wrong to provoke such emotions from her."

You remember the time you'd come to his quarters early for a date and found him sitting at his desk, staring silently at a small blue holographic figure sitting directly before him. He'd turned it off as soon as he saw you and rose to greet you, but you remember the look on his face. As he's speaking, in your heart, you know, though he doesn't need to know that you do. You don't have it in you to feel angry or jealous of her, not knowing how much she clearly meant to Data the few times he's spoken of her to you and knowing what happened to her; you simply feel a deep ache for him.

He is quiet and still for a long moment. "Based on these three encounters, I reached the logical conclusion that I was faulty and that when my partner has received everything from me which they are able, I am…discardable."

You slip your arms around him and pull him close, pressing your face tenderly to his neck. To your slight surprise, you find tears trickling down your cheeks as you hold him. "You're not discardable, Data. And that's not the only logical conclusion. There's also the much more logical conclusion that all three of them were just massive jerks to you."

He cradles you back. "I suppose that is one conclusion that could also be made, though in all three encounters, I was the common denominator. This indicates that the problem most likely lies with me."

"But now you can factor me in," you say. "And I promise I'll never treat you like that, Data."

"Yes," he answers softly, "yes, I believe you are speaking the truth. I do not believe now that you would ever treat me those ways."

You hold each other a while longer, and you are very pleasantly aware of your bodies pressing together under the blankets. But you begin to feel drowsy again and start to push yourself up and away. "I should probably get dressed and head back to my quarters, or I'm going to end up falling asleep right here in your bed."

To your surprise, Data keeps his arms around you, stopping you from pulling away. When you look back at him, there's an devout plaintiveness to his expression. "I fail to see a downside to that possibility," he answers. When you gape at him a little owlishly, he elaborates. "You may stay here with me." He glances at you coyly. "That is, if you desire to. I am not required on the Bridge until morning."

You look down into his earnest face and practically melt back down onto the bed. The two of you cuddle up together: arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined, bare chests pressed close. You sigh deeply and tuck your head under his chin, your breathing slowing peacefully. The bed bounces slightly as Spot jumps up to join you. She makes a couple rotations, then settles between you and Data's legs, her back pressed to Data's shin and her front paws and chin resting on your calf. Everything is warm and peaceful and perfect.

"Happy birthday, Data," you murmur.

He kisses your forehead in response.

Juliana was right. This was exactly what you both needed – this evening of shared trust and sweet new passions – you feel it deep in your soul, and you know that both of you are better for having shared this experience together.

A sudden thought flashes through your mind, and you open an eye with a slight grin. "So Data," you whisper, "what's the story about you streaking some colonists?"

-------------------------------------------------

A/N: Want to see a picture I drew of Data in his body jewelry? You can see it here. Enjoy ;)

Tag List: @catherinemcc1 @colorcodedpeacockquills @black-hats-cats-bats

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All is Fair~ In Love.....

Chapter 27: In Love

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Major Character Deaths! Violence, Bad language words, mentions of torture, paranoia.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: OMG it has been so long!!! I am so sorry this took so long, I've been in a really funky headspace lately and I'm trying to get back into a groove. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I have been so worried about it. But it is finally finished. I hope you enjoy!

Thor hadn’t slept well in months, he kept one eye open every night, completely on edge. Every little noise set him off, he didn’t know which noise was you creeping around a corner, or the sound of his own heart hammering in his chest.

Paranoia settled in when Jane’s body was discovered, then Heimdal; at a moment's notice you could be there to strike him down. Avenging those he took from you. Slowly the support he had in New York had dwindled into almost nothing 

He wouldn’t say he regretted what he did or who he killed. Collateral damage was impossible to avoid; whatever was best for the business. Tony was an unfortunate loss, but one he could still recover from. The rest of the bosses and families would bow to him, if it was the last thing they did. 

Unfortunately his brother and father refused to bow before his rule, and they were dealt with. Loki caused more problems than Thor had anticipated, now it was time to burn those loose ends once and for all. 

Or die trying.

—

Sitting up on your bike, you took in the serene landscape, after months of looking, you had finally tracked him down, the man who took everything from you. Thor was hiding. Hiding in Loki’s mansion far outside the city limits. 

It would do him no good, you had taken out all his avenues of support, what little security he had would be easy for you to sift through, even on high alert. 

The mansion was oddly quiet, as you made your way through the courtyard and into the foyer, Thor had little security for a man who was being hunted. It wasn’t entirely his fault, you had taken down Valkyrie and Heimdall, his security and men along with them. It’s not that he didn’t want good security, he didn’t have any left, and even the ones he scraped up were no match for you. 

You hadn’t been yourself since your brother died, there was no separation between yourself and your assassin personas anymore. There weren’t any edges of yourself to grasp onto, the lines between yourself and the assassin you were molded into no longer existed; you were left with this monstrosity. Your old life was a distant memory, you didn’t have a tether to the woman you had been before, she was a stranger when you looked in the mirror. 

Nothing but rage filled your entire being. Carbonell no longer existed, the Ace of Spades long gone, as for Wraith, she too had abandoned you. The nicknames your friends and victims had given you long ago seemed a little more fitting now. You were no longer a reaper doing someone else’s bidding, no, you were death incarnate, and you took who you pleased.

One of the guards tried in vain to surprise you behind an open doorway, your reflexes were too fast now, what once could have caught you off guard now stood no chance. He crawled backward, begging, blubbering for you to show him mercy as you advanced on him. You stopped raising your gun, gesturing to the door, “Run,” you sneered, watching him scramble to his feet and sprint out the door, “take the others with you. Anyone left won’t live to tell the tale.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors, your hair had grown out, the roots were showing, fading into the bone white they had given you with your Wraith identity. You weren't coming after Thor as an assassin, no, you wanted him to see your face, to know who he had wronged. You had forgotten the contacts, and your mask. You had no need for your tactical uniform, you doubted you would make it out alive anyway.

You made your way upstairs, at this point you were going through the motions, the men who were left didn’t even try. The moment they saw you, they would turncoat and run, their tails tucked between their legs. 

Smart.

Anyone who tried otherwise didn’t make it five feet from you. Sweeping each room, you ensured Thor wasn’t hiding, but something told you he wouldn’t cower in a corner. No he would face you head on and he would fight till his final breath.

This room was one of the master bedrooms, decorated in deep tones of green. The balcony doors framed a picturesque view of the lake on the grounds. A golden frame sat atop the dresser, a beautiful golden haired woman stood next to Loki. Freya, you recognized her, Odin’s wife and Loki and Thor’s mother. Loki is smiling in the picture, frozen happily in time forever, it's the same smile he gave you the first time you'd ever met. Your gut twisted, the memory of him laying lifeless in Stark Tower clouded your mind, you had been too late.

Squeezing the blade in your hand, the memory only strengthened your resolve, Thor wouldn’t survive the evening. Clattering behind the doors pulled you from your thoughts, you stepped closer to the door as it burst open and one of Thor’s men jumped out, knife swinging, slicing your cheek as he shoved past you. He sprinted down the hall, throwing himself into the main door on this level, Loki’s office. Sighing you pulled a pistol from one of the dead man's hands and pursued him. He looked back, eyes wide as he yanked open the door, flinging himself inside, slamming it shut.

—

He saw you on the cameras, before he could hear his men’s screams. There was no escaping you, he had already heard what you’d done. Hell he had to kill one of his own men just to keep you off his trail; their deaths were merely warnings of what was to come for him. 

Would he try to kill you? Absolutely, but then what? Would he run for the rest of his life from Steve and his men, or would Zemo come searching for him with the rest of the Aces? Thor knew he dug his own grave and knew he would lay in it, but not without a fight.

He flicked the camera’s off, standing to take in the serene landscape of his property, he engrained the beautiful rolling hills and summer blooms into his mind. What had started as a game of chess soon turned into a dangerous game of sharks and minnows, but even Sharks have predators. And he was no longer at the top of the food chain. 

The gunshots, clattering and screaming of men in the hall pulled his attention to the office door, just as it was ripped open, one of his own men flung himself inside. The man slammed the door shut, throwing himself against it. The man’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling frantically, Thor could see the tremor in the man's hands traveling through the rest of his body. Outside the door silence settled through the mansion; only for a moment. A single gunshot split the air, the man jerked before slumping to the floor, the smear of blood on the door was the only evidence the bullet had killed him. 

Thor watched as the doorknob slowly turned, the door creaking open on its hinges. His blood ran cold, his heart thundering in his ears as you stepped through the doorway, ignoring the body at your feet. You looked like something out of legend, your hair wild, your eyes, the ones he had always heard were hidden behind black or white contacts, were not. But they were not the familiar welcoming eyes he was used to, no, they were full of hellfire and brimstone; they scorched him, pinning him in place, his feet nailed to the floor.

A shiver ran down his spine, your familiar face not covered by a blood smeared mask, you were calm, your chest rising and falling at an abnormally slow rate for what activities he knew you had done mere seconds ago.

You approach him slowly, the embodiment of lethal grace, your head tilted slightly, a predator assessing its prey, he swore you could hear his heartbeat roaring in his chest.

Never had he had the bubbling urge to apologize, to beg for mercy, before, but with you standing in front of him, the urge surfaced. He quashed it, he would not cower to you, or anyone. He would stare death in the eye and smile saccharinely, and greet them like an old friend, but he wasn’t smiling now and you were no friend. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes not missing anything he waited on bated breath—

Next to him the cameras flicked back on, there was movement at the front gate, a familiar blonde head followed by several others passed through the gates in a hurry. A smirk lifted Thor’s lips as his eyes flicked back to you, “Seems you’ve run out of time little Stark. Better luck next time.”

There was a malicious sparkle in your eye as you drew your knives from their sheathes, stepping closer, “They won't save you Odinson whether it's days, hours, even seconds, it makes little difference.” you pause, a sinister smile curves your lips, “Hell awaits you, Odinson.”

Make it worth it, he thought, he rushed forward, yanking his blades from under his desk. “If I'm going to hell, I’m taking you with me!” Thor growls as he lunges at you in a flash of teeth and metal.

—

Steve and his men clear the grounds and first floor swiftly, but he feels they are already too late. The mansion is eerily silent the farther upstairs they clear, the more horrified he becomes. The inside of the mansion is chaos and carnage, he prays you hadn’t done all this on your own. Above them, sounds of struggles and broken glass thundered through the floor, he motioned to his men, moving quickly up the stairs.

In the final hall the sound had finally stopped, Bucky motioned to the last room, the door was barely cracked. Bucky had gone ahead of him, toeing the door open the rest of the way, gun raised. But as the door opened fully, Bucky froze in his tracks, Steve nearly slammed into him.

He looked over Bucky’s shoulder and nearly dropped his weapon at the carnage in front of him. He could barely stomach looking at the scene, his eyes locked on Thor’s chest, a bright white playing card sat pinned there by a blade, the embossed skull at its center now enhanced by the red blood casting shadows across it.

Bucky’s exasperated voice sounded next to him, “Steve, who the fuck—”

Bucky broke off, they both knew who had done this, you.

No, not you. Never you. You had been lost long ago, there was only one being that could have done this level of violence—

Death.

—

Freedom felt heavy, the ocean air whispering across your skin. Your heart is stranded in a city you could never go back to. 

Mourning a life you never had the chance to live. You had hope, hope that he would find someone to take your place, to make him happy in a way you only dreamed you could. Without a goodbye, you knew he wouldn’t let you leave, but couldn’t ask him to abandon his home and family.

With an empty heart and a million opportunities ahead, you couldn’t help but be filled with sickening dread.

—

His bed remained empty, no one would fill the hole in his heart that you had called your own. 

He had hope that he would see you again, maybe in another life, happy with someone you trusted enough to keep by your side.

With a million people around him, so many chances to move on, yet he remained completely alone with you gone.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[lizzyflowers]

Oh Dream and Nightmare, the two twins under the tree. Incarnation of Positivity and Negativity, the two separate halves that make each other whole. You both deserved so much better, you both deserved the world from what it took from you.

You both were still children, you shouldn’t have had to bear the responsibilities no child ever could. You both had to bear the world on your shoulders, you should never had to. Dream didn't have to heed to the villagers every need, to be used to their greedy and selfish needs as if they were incapable of doing it themselves. He never needed to listen to them, to be told what to do. He had so much love and kindness to give and they used it against him. Nightmare didn't need to prove he could be better, he didn't need to prove anything to the people that ridicule and hurt him. They have beaten that pure curiosity into fear. He had done nothing, yet they see his existence and an excuse to physically and emotionally abuse him. You both should have never went through such trials of life at an early age, you should have been exploring yourself, learning the things you loved and dislike. Setting up boundaries and rules for those around you to respect and follow. Yet despite everything that happened, you both had each other. After a long day, retiring to the tree and laying underneath it in each others arms, in one another's embrace is always a remedy to them.

Being in the others grasp, holding them tightly as if they were afraid the other would disappear if they ever let go. They mutter sweet words to each other, to lull one another to a blissful slumber as they were held in the others loving arms.

Nightmare would read Dream stories of books he was able to procure. Dream would gently hold his other half as he healed and card for him wounds that Nightmare would never tell the source of. They would lay on the grass and stargaze, having the other beside them while they pointed out shapes and Nightmare would tell dream of the star patterns he learned from the books as Dream would listen in his words. Not understanding any of it, yet was soothed and entranced by Nightmare's voice and presence. They loved each other and yet the world separated them. ~♡

[thegoddamnwordsmith]

TMayNT SUPERPOST!

Hey all! I haven't really had a chance to post for TMayNT, which is a bummer, because TMNT is my comfort food.

I know a lot of people who follow me on here may be more familiar with me as a Transformers fan, but I was born in 1983. TMNT has been the constant fictional presence in my life since I was old enough to remember. Moreover, it was the major fiction that I followed through the formative years of my childhood, and while I haven't always been active in fandom spaces or interacting with every part of the franchise, I've always kept that flame burning in my heart and my eyes on what was going on with all things Turtle.

So I'm going to be posting the full month's worth of TMayNT in one post (put under a cut, of course, to spare y'all from having a stretched-out timeline). Also, this will give anyone who's interested a better idea of just what slice of the fandom I'm a part of, which I think is kind of fun.

Anyway, let's get on with the show, shall we?

1 - Your favorite Turtle - This kind of depends on your definition, but if we're just pulling from the Brothers, it's easy: Michelangelo.

He's fun and funny, compassionate and caring, arguably has the biggest heart among all his brothers. Often irreverent and irresponsible, but always dependable. His lack of discipline usually ends up balanced out by his incredible natural ability, and what he lacks in forethought he makes up for in thinking on the fly. I love all the Brothers, but I'll always gravitate towards Mikey first.

If we go outside the green teens, however...

I. Love. Slash. The original action figure was one of the coolest I owned in a toyline made of cool, but it wasn't until the Archie comics that I fell hard for the guy. And while he showed up in other fiction before and after that, when IDW utilized him, he was just an incredible character. Sure, he seems like a violent brute on the outside, but even as far back as the 1987 cartoon version had deeper desires, sentimental longings that were almost at the core of his rage. He's a character that's both straightforward and incredibly layered.

2 - Favorite April

Another easy one, the Archie Comics version.

First, I'm personally a fan of April being an investigative reporter, since it gives her a perfect reason to get into messes that would be on the Turtles' radar. But moreover, where '87 leaned more into April fitting 'damsel in distress' tropes, her evolution in the Adventures comics would set the pattern for future versions of the character. She started learning how to hold her own in a fight, to the point where she was on equal footing with the rest of the crew. She was able to have adventures and plots independent of, or only peripherally involving, the Turtles themselves. She had her own supporting cast and enemies, and even got to have a stable romantic relationship (and not with usual pair-partner Casey Jones)! I feel like any version of April that gets the chance to stand on her own in subsequent TMNT iterations owes at least a little to this Splinter-trained independent reporter.

3 - Favorite henchman

This one is a bit tougher than the last two, only because there's so many to choose from! But I think that Tiger Claw rises above all the others.

He is dangerous. He is ruthless. He is loyal. And worst of all, he is competent. You have a lot of villainous characters that can use at least one of those words to describe them. But Tiger Claw uses them all. Armed to the teeth, well-trained, and able to take even major injuries in stride, Tiger Claw is one of the most terrifying soldiers to work under The Shredder in any continuity.

4 - Baby Turtles!

Look at these little guys and tell me that they aren't the cutest Baby Turtles we've ever gotten.

5 - Best Leo (all incarnations)

A bit of an odd pull, but I feel like 2007 Leonardo was a great examination of the character, specifically how much his sense of responsibility and his perfectionism both drive him, and get in his own way.

Also the absolute delight he has in the final fight when he gets thrown into a room full of swords.

6 - Favorite mutant ally

My immediate go-to is to say "The Mighty Mutanimals" as a whole, specifically the original Archie iteration of the team. However, if we want to narrow it down to a singular character among them, it would likely be Jack Finney, AKA Man Ray/Ray Fillet.

A former marine biologist and ecological activist, Man Ray was not someone you wanted to make an enemy of. Honestly, the only reason he didn't have a body count was because of the people he hung out with. Man Ray felt that the ends often justified the means, if the ends were protecting the lives and environments of sea-dwelling creatures, and was not above using theft and violence to reach those goals. But even with all that, he was shown to be incredibly loyal, and even forgiving of those who genuinely wanted to make up for their mistakes.

7 - Best Turtle gadget

Does 2012 Metalhead count? Because if so, 2012 Metalhead.

8 - Favorite Turtle + ally dynamic

Raphael and Ninjara, again from the Archie comics. Aside from how much I was a fan of their romance, their relationship was one of mutual respect and appreciation for their strengths, but also being willing to call each other out when the need arose. The two genuinely made a great team whenever they went into action together.

9 - Best Raph (all incarnations)

This one is a tie, because the 2012 version of Raph is my favorite of all the major incarnations of the character.

Unlike many other versions before him, 2012 Raph was much more nuanced. He was angry, sure, as the character often is, but he also really loved his family. He's got a warm heart that he does share, just with a select few. He goes on multiple journeys of growth and change, and they stick as the series progresses. Also, he loves animals so much.

But of all the versions of Raph, my hands-down favorite is Future Raph, from the Archie comics. Older, wiser, having mellowed with age but still having that fire inside. He settled down into a somewhat calm life, got married, ran a restaurant, and still helped his brothers take care of the bad stuff going on in the city. He also lost an eye to Armaggon, learned to handle Leo's swords as a hobby, straight-up shot someone who threatened his family, and decked Hitler while time-traveling with his brothers.

How can you not love him?

10 - Favorite Turtle curseword

"Shell," for its sheer versatility.

11 - Favorite Splinter

2012 Splinter hits the perfect balance of wise master, trained ninja warrior, and caring father for me. Not only is he willing to take on any threat to his family, but he can fight on surprisingly equal footing with many of their foes, even the Shredder depending on the situation. He has the patience and wisdom to train April, put up with Casey, and even calm down characters like Leatherhead and Slash, who could easily (and even accidentally) cause him major harm. And yet, this is a father who has a cheese-themed phone for the boys to call him on "for emergencies."

12 - Best Turtle vehicle

The Turtle Van. The original and still the best.

13 - Best Don (all incarnations)

Something that always fascinates me with Donatello is how often he gets put into "crisis of faith" stories of a sort, usually putting his scientific mind at odds with magical or supernatural forces beyond his understanding. Nowhere is this more pronounced than with the Archie version.

Over the course of the series, Donnie ended up seeing Izanagi and Izanami intervene in mortal affairs, speak to the manifestations of yin and yang, encounter an entire world that existed out-of-time in the center of the Earth, speak with an elemental spirit of the Earth while being present for the events of Columbus' landing in 1492, and had his mind opened to the infinity of the cosmos when he held the Turnstone. All of this made him a much more subdued and grounded version of himself than many other iterations, without a doubt.

14 - Favorite Turtle movie

I love when the Brothers are written the most like teenagers, and nowhere did that hit the best than in Mutant Mayhem.

Not only that, this one had the unenviable job of having to manage a large cast without the story feeling bloated... and it succeeded. As a lifelong fan, this movie hit all of my notes and then some. I can't wait to see where things go from this one.

15 - Best Karai

Once again we go to 2012, as this version of Karai had some incredible complexities to her, both in her character and in her origins. The connections between her, Shredder, Splinter, and the Turtles made her entire character arc incredible.

16 - Favorite episode/issue

The Future Shark Trilogy (TMNT Adventures, Issues #42-#44). Featuring one of the most dangerous threats in the franchise, a time-travel tale that's both fun and has high stakes, and of course, Future Raphael. Runner-up would be "United We Stand, Divided We Fall," from TMNTA #38-#39 and Mighty Mutanimals #6, because it's hard to get over a story where the TMNT, the Mighty Mutanimals, and a handful of their friends and allies face off against Mr. Null and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

17. Best Mikey (all incarnations)

Above all the various versions of Mikey, the IDW comics have given possibly the most emotionally open and heartfelt version of the character. Mikey befriends humans and mutants alike, and really would rather not have anyone be fighting anyone. He has such a strong moral core that, despite how much he loves his family, he left when he didn't agree with Splinter's more flexible stance on morality when running the Foot Clan. If any one Turtle could bring you to tears with how much of a good person he is, it's this version of Mikey.

18 - Human version of the Turtles

Not something I've dwelled on much! That said, my favorite version(s) have been done by @thisistab so there's that.

19 - Best Casey Jones

A rare 2003 pull! This is the perfect example of Casey being this lovable guy who's also genuinely unhinged. Too many other versions lean into him being a grim vigilante (or a parody thereof), but 2003 showed him at his best - a guy who knows how to weaponize the fact that he's not quite right in the head.

That said, shout out to Rise's Cassandra Jones, for being a very different take on the character, and a refreshing one at that.

20 - Favorite Turtle merch/toy that you own

My copy of the Official Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Treasury, which has a very cool collection of photos of early TMNT merch, including the tabletop miniatures, an assortment of wild tie-in items, and even prototypes of some of the first Playmates figures. This thing is well-worn and will leave my possession when I die.

21 - Favorite Shredder

The 2012 version has been both the most human, and the most monstrous, version of the character to date. He walks a very thin line of invoking feelings of hatred, pity, fear, and sympathy. He is an aging man, trained in the ways of warfare and assassination, who refuses to let go of his grudges to the point of deluding himself of the truths behind them. And even the people and things that he cares for are still tools to him - no matter what he feels towards them, they can always be discarded once they no longer fit his goals. He is no less dangerous as an ally than he is as an enemy.

22 - Favorite Turtle duo

Regardless of the version, it's gotta be Donnie and Mikey.

Whether it be bonding over the same kind of nerdy wavelengths, Donnie being frustrated over Mikey's inattentiveness or negligent curiosity, or the two of them offering color commentary whenever Raphael and Leonardo have a blow-out, these two are easily my favorite to see interacting, especially during downtime.

23 - Favorite human ally

Oyuki Mashimi from the Archie comics. While she ends up more of an April supporting character, she nonetheless a bit of a unique type, being a Japanese street urchin that came this close to being a human sacrifice, only to get saved by the actions of the TMNT. She went on to follow them back to America and provide a no-nonsense, sometimes rough point of view when it came to their adventures. She also became April's trusted friend, roommate, and coworker, and even got to see some infiltration action to help the Turtles on a few occasions.

24 - Favorite Turtle + villain dynamic

Raphael and Xever/Fishface from 2012. It was a take on the "we're not so different" kind of relationship, but in a way where neither party was left feeling more lenient towards the other, and instead they seemed to have a mutual, if begrudging, respect for one another that would've been fun to see explored more, but was a pretty good relationship as it was.

25 - Your turtlesona

I do not have one, sorry!

26 - Favorite series

The Archie comics are my nostalgia. The 2012 cartoon revitalized my love for the TMNT. But overall, nothing even comes close to the IDW comics. The series has run the gamut of everything that's been a part of TMNT since their inception, from humor and wild adventure to raw emotions and dark twists and turns. This series, this universe, is hand-crafted by creators who know the Turtles, and moreover, love them. They have cherry-picked the best things from the past to bring back, and given them a rework to be even more beloved than they ever could be before. The stories, the characters, even the concepts have depth and growth that one might never have assumed possible for this 1980s-spawned property, and the fact that the IDW continuity lasted as long as it has (and isn't even over, just getting a 'soft' reboot/jumping-on point) is a testament to how well this all came together.

27 - Favorite mutant/alien villain

Armaggon, hands down.

A ruthless criminal with his sights set on mastering time itself, the cybernetic mutant shark Armaggon presents a threat to the Turtles and their allies in two different time periods. He's personally responsible for the loss of Raphael's eye, and if given half the chance would end the threat of the Turtles permanently by way of just straight-up eating them. He'll gladly work alongside other villains, but he's only out for himself.

28 - Favorite Turtle intro/song

Favorite intro would probably be the 2012 version of the theme (the standard version through most of the series), but my favorite Turtles song all together would be Mutants on Broadway, from the Shredder's Revenge game. As the kids say, it slaps.

29 - Favorite alternative outfit or design

Even tie between the Stump Intergalactic Wrestling outfits, and the Future Ninja Turtles outfits (both from, surprise surprise, the Archie comic)

30 - Favorite human villain

IDW's take on Baxter Stockman bumps him into the upper echelon of fictional schemers along the lines of Lex Luthor and David Xanatos, what can I say? Plus, he's still a bit of a mad scientist.

31 - The Turtles in your favorite style

Just go look up any of Chris Allan's work from the Archie comics, or pretty much any TMNT art that Sophie Campbell (@mooncalfe-art) has done.

OKAY! Did it! Whew! That took a minute. I hope you all enjoyed getting a chance to see my taste in Turtles. This was fun, if a bit taxing to do all at once.

[fiyero3305]

TUA Fic: Witchy Prompts 12

Witchy Prompts via @myloveforhergoeson

12. Cursed

Viktor always knew he was cursed, he just didn’t know how deep, intricate, and adaptable the curse was.

Curse incarnation number one: born via magic along with 42 other kids; purchased by Sir Reginald Hargreeves along with six of those 42; and raised in his care. This curse he shares with his siblings and could have potentially found strength or comfort in that fact, if not for the second aspect of the curse.

The other magical children have supernatural abilities; Viktor does not. See, the curse couldn’t let him get away with just being isolated from the rest of the world when Reginald Hargreeves bought him from his mother, no, it had to make sure that Viktor was also isolated from the other children in the same boat. Only seven people in the whole world had the potential to understand Viktor, but even that was too much to ask of the universe.

Against all odds Viktor manages to bond with one of his siblings. One day at breakfast, this sibling vanishes before his eyes.

As an adult Viktor learns he actually does have supernatural abilities and thinks maybe the curse is broken, but they don’t help him connect with his siblings. Unlike the others, Viktor didn’t spend his childhood learning how to master his powers and they burst out uncontrollably when his emotions flare up. He attacks the sister who tried to make up for her childhood cruelty. He blows up the moon. The only brother to have ever shown him compassion leads the charge to kill him.

Somehow he is transported back in time and loses his memory. Finally free, he manages to fall in love with a woman and care for her son. The woman is married to someone else though, as the curse dictates. His siblings return and shortly thereafter he is captured and tortured as an enemy of the state. He accidentally spreads his curse to the son he tried to protect. He learns he has to travel back to his own time to prevent another apocalypse, but he cannot take his love or his almost son with him. She was willing to go with him too, that’s the part that really hurts, but they both know his very existence puts them in the line of danger and they can’t do it to the boy.

Of course when he makes the jump, the curse has followed him. They’re in the wrong timeline and what’s more their presence has triggered, surprise surprise, the apocalypse. He thought maybe this one at least wasn’t his fault, but it turns out that accidentally spreading the curse to that boy lead that boy to alter the timeline in such a way as to cause the apocalypse so once again this one falls at Viktor’s feet. Of course.

The boy has grown into a man in Viktor’s absence and has been dealing with the consequences of Viktor’s interference all the while. They start to mend their relationship, begin working toward some level of trust, he still sees him as a son, of sorts.

He shouldn’t have tried. Of course his efforts end with the man being killed by Viktor’s own sister, punished for Viktor’s sins rather than his own.

Which brings Viktor to his current state of rumination, laying on the bed of his asshole brother from this broken timeline. When that brother walks in and dresses Viktor down for his pity party, he can’t help but think that the man has no idea what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know everything that has brought Viktor to this moment and his arrogance in assuming he does annoys him, but he also recognizes some truth to it. He has every right to feel sorry for himself, but it’s not exactly helping the situation. To Viktor’s surprise, the asshole’s words actually motivate him to get off his ass and rejoin the fight.

He goes along with the plan, uses his powers in conjunction with the others’ to contain the apocalyptic force, and they do it! He joins the team as they celebrate the belief that they have won. Of course, they haven’t though. Viktor’s cursed, after all, and the apocalypse returns with a vengeance.

[bonesandthebees]

Internship is certainly going. I want to say going okay… I could be doing better but I kinda got unlucky with my internship spot and workload. This would be much easier to explain if I could just say what kinda of internship it is, but that kinda feels like too much details both for my current degree and the job I’ll be doing after. (Internet safety and all that). Anyway, what I can say is that anyone in the field irl pulls a face when they hear about my internship. The workload feels impossible, but somehow I’m doing it and I’m about half way through so *aggressively knocks on wood* it should be fine.

I do have a different internship in like a month or so and some other projects but those feel like child’s play compared to the current hell incarnate. So moral of the story: sometimes you just get to have a few mental breakdowns, pick yourself back up and go again the next day (again and again and again and again). It’s like that quote: [“It gets a little bit easier every day, but you have to keep doing it.”] or what’s the other one? [the only way out is through]. And then take plenty of breaks and do fun things even if it feels like you don’t have the time because that’s the only thing that’ll keep you going. The world is always more manageable after a good meal or a power nam or a 15 minute music break.

I’ve been blasting a lot of music based on moods, getting back into Dutch music because girl, I need to learn how to spell properly and every internship I have a song that gets me through. This one it’s ‘secret for the mad’ by Dodie. I’ve had to loop it over and over to get the motivation to try at times, to really let the words sink in, but it helps. So find a song to get you through when you need it.

Lastly, I’ve been meaning to say something about Him, but I just haven’t had the time and energy to write something coherent (aka I’m not using my 30 minutes of evening downtime that are just for me for this negative energy). Best thing is can say is that this is a good opportunity to get into new creators. Just have fun with it (hermitcraft season 10 has been getting be through this). Listen to new music. Try new things to fill the void. I’ve pruned all my playlists and social media follows and such and it felt like a fresh start. (Oh and learned your red flags people. People who don’t respect your boundaries (no matter how small) can be(come) very dangerous.)

My only issue now is that I can play since I saw Vienna and La Jolla on guitar (the picking patterns always smooth me), but now I’m not sure if I can keep doing that. I haven’t tried playing them. I feel like I should look at the lyrics first then decide. But I haven’t found any picking songs with the same soothing vibe, so I’ve been playing a bunch of my classical pieces and I really like playing the ‘romantic’ ones and for some reason the polkas and the blues? So again filling the void.

Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes. I’ve been missing you guys. This has been chaotic life updates with Spruce. I really need to start being productive now. So, bye!

-🌲

yeah of course don't say any details that would reveal too much info about you, but man that sounds stressful :( at least you'll switch to something else in a month?? I'm so sorry you're stuck in hell rn I hope you get through it alright!! make sure to take it easy when you can!! you're so right the world is so much easier to deal with after a power nap or a snack

oooo I haven't heard secret for the mad in a long time but I used to listen to dodie from time to time. I used to think of such angsty scenarios with my ships while listening to 'sick of losing soulmates'

also it's so real to have a song to help you get through shit like that. I'd say rn for me one of those songs is all american bitch by olivia rodrigo because I just have a lot of fun screaming it in the car. tested waters by loupe is a calmer one I've been listening to on repeat lately

you're right this is a great opportunity to get into new creators. I was already drifting to watching qsmp creators more often besides just phil and tubbo, but now I've been trying to tune into bagi and tina's streams if I have the time

definitely look at the lyrics first, but I feel like out of most of the ycgma songs since I saw vienna and la jolla are two of the 'safest' options you could pick for something like that. at least compared to your sister was right and losing face...

la jolla and since i saw vienna are both such pretty songs though. there's nothing wrong with playing those on your own guitar I'd say? it's not giving any money to him. but of course it's up to your own personal comfort.

good luck spruce!!! ty for checking in we all miss you over here!! <33