Are you asking me for something, Jean-Luc?

[Now Picard era - if you want it to be, anyway!] Hello, delightful mortals! Do try not to bore us, won't you? We're both dreadfully busy... well, one of us is... (An ask blog for the ultimate in theatrical space gods and our favourite Frenchman. The blog headcanon's established relationship, but you can ask them anything!) Run by celestialwarzone.

[sloppity-bilepiper]

Gay as fuck to be a female starfleet officer. Why are you boldly going where no man has gone before? To look for a woman??

[ask-q-and-picard]

(Picard era.

Q, on a scale of 1 to a million, how annoyed were you when Guinan summoned you?

And how on Earth did you infiltrate the FBI?!)

Q: Try a trillion, dear enquirer. And I couldn't even vaporise her for it! This is truly the most cursed timeline imaginable... and then she asks me all these damned questions, as though she has any right! The only being who had any right to such knowledge was down the corridor, with a man who's afraid of Vulcans. Vulcans! Dear stars... though we're not telling him this. Mon amiral deserves to live on and be happy - what am I dying for, otherwise? Stubborn, wonderful fool...

Oh, and the FBI part was easy. Simple hack, really - what these ridiculous humans consider 'encoded' or 'encrypted' is nothing to a being as clever as I. And they just leave the uniforms lying around in their HQ! Absurd... a crying shame Jean-Luc couldn't see me in it, though. He'd have gotten a kick out of me being on the right side of the law for once. I'd keep it in reserve, but... well. Time is a capricious little harlot. As long as he lives...

[ask-q-and-picard]

(TNG) So, Captain, aside from Qs godlike powers, omniscience, incredibly knowledge and understanding of the universe (and his undoubtable humbleness) would you say are Qs best qualities that make you still stick with him? (Side note: Can't stand to have Q look so absolutely sad, devasted and mad and I think Q deserves for Picard to tell him what he likes about him. My dude needs some positivity)

Q: O-ho! Yes, please wax lyrical on why you adore me so, on why my godly powers are so enchanting -

Picard: ... You evidently misunderstand, both of you.

Q: Oh, I really don't. You love our adventures -

Picard: I do - I won't deny that. But you are not our adventures. You are the being I come home to every day, who listens to the tales of my day as though they're myth and legend; you are the being who understands me, appreciates all that I am, doesn't ask me to be anything other than my tiny, dull, French self.

Q: I... object to 'dull', mon capitaine.

Picard: I am dull, Q. I don't want to ski down volcanic slopes, or drink those fancy cocktails you concoct; I want to read, and quote Shakespeare, and discuss archaeology, and occasionally visit places. And you just... support me in that.

Q: ... Well, of course I do, dearest. Is this supposed to be a revolutionary concept?

Picard: It's unheard of, man! I don't understand, I never have - you have the entire universe at your disposal, the whole of time, even, and yet here you are. Constantly!

Q: ... None of them are you, Jean-Luc. None of them are my home.

Picard: ... You don't see it, do you? You don't see why that's so unique.

Q: Oh, trust me, I do. It's been several billion years, and you're the sole light amongst it all. The only home I've ever had - and so yes, read your books, recite your Shakespeare, come and join me in exploring whatever happens to take your fancy in the moment, and do it all with my pleasure, because that's who you are. And who you are is who I love, frills and all, to the end of everything. Now, do shut up - this is becoming almost comically sentimental. I have - well, likely had - a reputation to maintain.

Picard: ... That's... well, that's what keeps me with you, mon dieu. No one else could ever -

Q: I know. Come here, darling...

[ask-q-and-picard]

(Picard era, because the public deserves to know.

All right Q, you can tell us now. It was you that guided Picard's soul to his new synth body, wasn't it?

The succes rate of the procedure is incredibly low, and it was the first time anyone had even attempted it -- no way he would have made it without you.

But you weren't about to let his soul wander and become lost, were you? Not when all that was needed was the gentle flutter of a butterfly...

What about you, Admiral? Have you never wondered how you survived?)

Picard: ... Oh. Oh.

Q: Really?

Picard: Yes, really! Would I not have -

Q: Not a chance. Well, a miniscule one, and I am not a betting entity. Not when it comes to you.

Picard: ... So I was doomed?

Q: Oh, almost certainly. Don't get a deity wrong, darling - you are light-fathoms above the average mortal idiot - but the procedure was abandoned for a reason. And all it took on my part was a flutter.

Picard: ... 'A flutter'? You've lost me.

Q: No, I haven't. And that's all that matters.

Picard: ... Are you quite alright, mon dieu?

Q: ... Perfectly fine, mon amiral. Now stop talking, and stop dying... not necessarily in that order. And perhaps offer me a hug.

Picard: ... Yes, alright...

[ask-q-and-picard]

(TNG, because boy do miss when their dynamic was a lot more sillier and mutual and not so frustrating and saddening) Say, Q, how many other species/gods/beings who have never heard of humanity have heard about Jean-Luc Picard and how sick is the Continuum becoming of having you talk about him?

Q: ... Oh, dear stars. Should one worry, when they're omniscient and start to lose count?

Picard: ... Should one worry when their not-partner breaks the Prime Directive a million times over?

Q: Oh, nonsense darling. It's only a few hundred thousand at best... probably.

Picard: Oh, good. It's least it's only a few hundred thousand violations.

Q: ... Now that is the face of a wonderful, wonderful Frenchman who would very much appreciate bottomless almond croissants and wine!

Picard: And that is the face of a very annoying god who is going to go and fix all of this, isn't it?

Q: ... Yes, dear...

[ask-q-and-picard]

(Picard era, because here Q is very clearly not all there so to speak) Are you okay, Q? Having any strange thoughts or noticed any change in your own behaviour? Has anything bad happened to you or have you seen something that you don't really want to outright discuss with Picard?

Q: I, erm... there's a lot I don't wish to discuss with my dearly beloved right now, curious one. This timeline business is my fault, of course, but - well, I didn't have an alternative. He's my home, my whole universe, and we protect that which matters so very much. So, no - I'm patching a hole in space-time, and it's failing, and I would very much rather it wasn't, but that's... well, que sera sera, as mon amiral might say. I won't blame him. He's been afraid of the Borg for a long time, and I... I couldn't protect him, then. Certain things have to happen, you see, and I won't fail him again. I need him far too much for that.

I should probably... lie down, though. Stars, I'm exhausted... we won't mention this to him, alright? He's already worried, and I... I'm fine. He'll solve this, he always does...

[ask-q-and-picard]

A question for the good captain: Have you ever thought of being something else than human? Not while you are still captian, but maybe after you retired? I mean, just think of all the benefits of no longer being restrained to a physical and organic body. Especially if it means, you are also no longeer restricted to linear time. You could meet Shakespeare himself, see all the ancient civilizations for yourself, no longer age or die, etc.

(I did answer something very similar to this quite a long time ago now, dear anon, which you can find here - but I firmly believe this warrants a Picard-era update...)

Picard: I... now, years ago, if I'd been held at phaser-point, I would likely have said no, but... the idea is becoming slightly less horrific as of late. Perhaps it's just my age, or perhaps it's Q's influence, but... I've been through an awful lot - I've left Starfleet, rejoined, met so many people, been so many places, built and shattered and rebuilt my principles, and through all of it, there's been Q, throwing us into adventures or nebulas or through time, and I... it's been liberating, exciting... comforting. If that's what forever means, exploration without duty, joy without guilt... I believe I might just about be able to live with that. We'd need rules of course, and boundaries would have to be established - I'd never antagonise a species for my own amusement, nor show disrespect for the continuity of space-time, but... one lives, and one learns. It could work... I think. But it's so extraordinarily long, I can't even begin to quantify it...

... I'm not saying yes. I'm saying... perhaps. And if I may make a request, I'd really rather you didn't mention this to him. I don't want to get his hopes up too quickly. He deserves my knowledge, not my speculations... and selfishly, I think that perhaps I deserve to see that reaction first.

[ask-q-and-picard]

I have a question for Picard: What do you have to say in defense of the French language? “Oil of the nut of the coco” “what is that that there is” what the hell is that stuff? Why? Why???????? And bird is spoken “wazo“ but written as “oiseaux”??? And why have 28599392 different grammatical times too? Like that’s so uneccesary. I really like other achievements of France like romance and wine and cheese and repressed but awesome enterprise captains, but that language is killing me. (btw Q: you‘re gender and fashion goals af hell yeah homie)

and I also have deal to offer to Q: I will bake you a really gay looking cake if you help me pass my French exam. like it will look incredibly gay and taste as good as my mediocre talents as a pastry chef permit

Q: O-ho, this should be marvellous! Go ahead, Jean-Luc...

Picard: ... Am I repressed?

Q: Oh, hugely. Stop evading the question! I'm endlessly intrigued...

Picard: Well, you see, the thing is -

Q: Mmmm?

Picard: It's all about vowel conjugation, you see - as a Romance language, French is, er...

Q: ...

Picard: ... A, er, deeply complex -

Q: You seem to have lost your usual eloquence, mon amiral. Should I be concerned?

Picard: No, you should not. If you'd just give me a moment, I'd offer you a fascinating biography of the language itself, from its origins in the Roman world to -

Q: Good sweet stars, spare me, darling. Shall we be honest, and say that you've got absolutely no defence?

Picard: ... I'm struggling on the 'oiseaux', I must admit, but -

Q: That's a yes, then. Tu devrais plutôt me câliner, mon amour.

Picard: Ugh, je suppose...

[ask-q-and-picard]

Question for Q: Doesn't it hurt to still be (publicly at least?) described as an aquaintance even after all these years?

Q: No, not particularly, good enquirer.

Picard: ... Really?

Q: Honestly, Jean-Luc. It's been twenty-seven years, nine months and twenty-three days - took my ex-wife several million more to admit that we were even a couple. Do you know how difficult it is to keep a secret for that long in the Continuum?

Picard: I... do not. Very, I imagine?

Q: Incredibly. I do, however, think that it's really about time that you gave it up, dearest.

Picard: Q, we've discussed this -

Q: I do so hate to rain on your parade, but your precious counsellor already knows because you're psionically incompetent -

Picard: Yes, well -

Q: - and you cannot expect me to believe that her beardly beloved doesn't also know, therefore -

Picard: Perhaps -

Q: - and if he knows, your entire former crew knows.

Picard: Dammit, Q, I still have a reputation to maintain -

Q: Oh, and let's not get started on how half the quadrant's pondering why you haven't ever gotten married.

Picard: I... fine, you may have a point. But Command -

Q: - are idiots, apparently. Ridiculous mortals.

Picard: ... But you're not remotely bothered by this, of course.

Q: Bothered? Me? Not in the slighest, mon amour. Couldn't care less if I made the conscious attempt.

Picard: ... Indeed...

[ask-q-and-picard]

Picard: ... Do we really have to do this, Q?

Q: Yes, we really do.

Picard: Why? You've tormented me for most of our acquaintance, but I rather thought we were past -

Q: Taking a nice photograph is not torment, you ridiculous man! Besides, you look stunningly handsome. I'd kiss you, dear.

Picard: You do, frequently, and without the need for a camera.

Q: I'll kiss you more, then. Do attempt a smile, won't you...

Picard: Ugh. We are absolutely not showing this to anyone, do I make myself clear?

Q: Yes yes, perfectly... it definitely isn't going on the blog...

Picard: Q!

(Welcome back to the askblog, friends! We are now officially Picard era - but, given the nature of our resident god, if you wanted to ask their younger selves something, you need only to say so in the question...)

[ask-q-and-picard]

(It's great, that you have decided to go back to this blog.) Your Allmightyness, I have a purely hypothetical question for you. The Captain doesn't need to know your answer to it. What would you do, if Picard ever for whatever reason decided to break up with you or leave you for someone else?

Q: ... Do you know something I don't, you awful mortal you? Have you spoken to him about this? Is he planning to -

... No, Q, don't be ridiculous. Hypothetical question, they said... stay calm...

... I don't know, frankly, and I do not care to consider it. I have spent eons alone, with no one who understands, who values me for who I am, without a home, and I...

... I wouldn't do very well. Never ask me again, alright? Because I would have to respect it, and I couldn't bear -

Now, if you'll excuse me - I have a date to attend. With Jean-Luc. Who is not leaving me... and who also isn't seeing this... and who I may now need to hold very tightly indeed, later...

[ask-q-and-picard]

Outbreak advice with some intergalactic gays

Q: So, I’ve been doing some divining in my downtime, sweet mortals, and apparently, there’s some sort of pandemic occurring over in the early part of the twenty-first century? Now, as much as I’d like to help, these sorts of things are usually fixed points in time that even someone as grand as my good self has to respect for the sake of universal continuity - and my siblings really do have awfully high opinions of themselves - and so instead I’m here to offer my neighbourly advice!

Picard: Mm, I’m sure they’ll all cherish such things, yes...

Q: Well, exactly! Just call me Auntie Q, you can be Uncle Jean-Luc, it’ll be wonderful -

Picard: I can be what?

Q: - Now, first piece of advice, and likely the most important: avoid all mortal contact at all costs. You’re all dreadfully dull anyway, I’m sure it won’t be too much of a hardship.

Picard: Q, people can’t just indefinitely avoid one another, for goodness sake!

Q: ... Whyever not? Why would anyone be so absurd as to covet the company of their equally limited fellows?

Picard: Because contact with others is essential to our wellbeing!

Q: Darling, that’s why they had the internet. A place to escape, to live your wildest daytime fantasies! Think of it as a very, very limited holodeck, without the fun costumes - an encyclopedia of human knowledge and idiocy in equal measure. People could write stories, or create art, or quote trite things... or talk to one another, I suppose. It certainly contributed towards you all being judged as a grievously savage child race, but -

Picard: I think it may be wiser to simply avoid those who would be most at risk, Q.

Q: Eurgh, I suppose if you must meet one another and discuss your boring lives... second point, then: upon meeting said tedious acquaintance, drown them in antibacterial agents. Leave no single skin cell unwashed! 

Picard: ... I truly wish I thought you were jesting, but -

Q: Jean-Luc, this is crucial. I’d recommend incinerating their clothing upon their arrival in your peripheral vision, whilst we’re on the subject - closest phaser, instant dematerialisation. Safety first!

Picard: Q, mon dieu, it is in no way socially acceptable to incinerate your acquaintance’s garments.

Q: Oh, to hell with social conventions! This is why I prefer talking to Betazoids, honestly - at least they understand that modesty’s a tragically outdated concept... well then, nothing else for it. Point three: under no circumstances must you kiss them.

Picard: Well, unless you’re a certain, uhm... type of friends, I doubt that will be too much of a -

Q: Truly, Jean-Luc - eighty million particles of bacteria in every ten second exchange, give or take a few thousand. It’s revolting.

Picard: ... Even if you sincerely love someone?

Q: Well of course not, if you love them. If you love them, you see space vicariously through the charcoal of their eyes, the whispers of promises subtle and fulfilled threading through their spirit; you drink their family’s vintage beside them, share your precious croissants, feel your own essence bleed into their side in the dead of a space-frosted night cycle... I’m talking about the rest of them, dear.

Picard: I... so you can only kiss surprisingly loving god-like entities, whose bacteria is either non-existent or benign; just that one particular one, the incomprehensible wisdom of forever flashing across their vision, where you feel that if you stare hard enough, you’ll be able to catch a glimpse of it too?

Q: ... Yes, precisely. An eloquent summary, mon capitaine.

Picard: ... A tragedy, really, that a captain must lead by example; it wouldn’t be morally just to act against our own advice.

Q: ... Well, far be it from me to play devil’s advocate, darling, but they can’t see us. We could be doing anything, and naturally all of it would be of the highest morality.

Picard: ... Indeed. I am a man of impeccable ethical character, there’d be no question of any duplicity.

Q: Me, though? I’m a terribly negative influence...

...

Q: Much like there are four lights, my friends, there’s also a fourth point, and now Jean-Luc’s asleep, allow me to share my consummate wisdom for the final time: whatever you’re doing, however you’re living, however tedious or droll or otherwise uninspiring your day-to-day existence may be... ensure your own safety. It’ll be important to someone, I’m sure. Perhaps it’ll even manage to mean everything to them. Oh, and don’t listen to him either - burn all of the clothing. Let no scrap remain, darlings!

[ask-q-and-picard]

Q, since you don't require sleep (and don't seem to enjoy it at all), what do you do when Picard is asleep?

Q: ... Is ‘staring at him’ an acceptable answer, sweet mortal?

Picard: Please tell me you don’t do that.

Q: Well, whyever would I? The whole of time and space runs permanently through my head, darling; every language, every being, every culture, every ancient ruin, every possibility. Whatever would compel me to endlessly analyse you instead?

Picard: Well, quite! So, what do you do? Can’t quite believe I’ve never asked, but you’re always here in the morning - I’m assuming you stay?

Q: ... Stare at you, mostly.

Picard: ... What? Why, when you’ve just said -

Q: That’s the problem with omniscience, Jean-Luc - it isn’t just knowing it all, it’s understanding it. You, though? You’re my favourite enigma. My only one, actually.

Picard: I... I’m just a simple human, Q!

Q: Oh, mon capitaine. You’re many things, not all of them complimentary - now, don’t give me that look, most of them are! - but one thing you are absolutely not is ‘simple’. The man who dared to stare a god in the face and tell him to get the hell off his ship; the man who talked his colleague out of having the universe permanently at his fingertips, or that saved three realities at once; the one who shares his quarters with someone who could deconstruct his atoms with a simple snap, and yet trusts him enough to fall asleep beside him every evening. Those idiots out there, however far away? They can’t compare, dearest.

Picard: ... You would never hurt me.

Q: No, but that doesn’t mean you’ve ever had to trust me. 

Picard: And indeed, I didn’t for a while, but... we’re rather similar, you and I.

Q: Septillions upon septillions of miles, infinite diversity, infinite combinations, and yet no one else quite manages to feel like home.

Picard: ... You honestly think I’m the most fascinating thing in the universe?

Q: Oh, don’t be too overwhelmed, darling - I sometimes make my way through several baskets of croissants and watch terrible movies in your arms, too.

Picard: ... That would explain the immediate breakfast pastries, then... you’re quite mad, mon dieu.

Q: ... And yet you’re still letting me stay over. What does that say about you, I have to ponder?

Picard: ... Dear lord. I suppose we’ll just have to be quite mad together, then...

[ask-q-and-picard]

Q: ... Jean-Luc. You know, of course, what day it is.

Picard: ... It would appear to be Tuesday, Q.

Q: Mm, mm... try again, darling. 

Picard: It’s, erm... 48734.39, which I believe is -

Q: New. Year’s. Eve.

Picard: Oh, at least we actually celebrate that one nowadays.

Q: And what do you tend to do for it?

Picard: Well, there’ll be a speech or three from myself and the good Commander - I do normally prepare something, though I’ve been rather waylaid recently by unforeseen circumstances -

Q: I can be foreseen, if you’d prefer it dear...

Picard: Oh good lord, hush. Still, I ought to be more than capable of summoning the relevant eloquence in the moment; we’ll engage in a synthohol toast to the continuing mission, naturally -

Q: Lovely, I’m sure, though it does involve a distinct lack of, ah... fireworks. I think we can rectify that, don’t you?

Picard: ... And what exactly are you prop - Q!

...

Q: Oh, nothing too grandiose, you know me!

Picard: Oh no, of course! Grandiose, you? Pah! Where the devil are we, man?

Q: Where on Earth, even - Paris! Away from the crowd, in case they steal the goods.

Picard: ‘Goods’? Is that a basket -

Q: The wine, darling, the croissants! No one shares my pastries, Captain, with a single notable exception. Do help yourself, there’s a good man.

Picard: Q, this is -

Q: Ineffable? Well, I’m not sure what you were expecting at this point, frankly.

Picard: - Charming, my dear. I was going to say ‘charming’, but unnecessary.

Q: You never think any indulgence is necessary, in my defence. Look, I’ll get you back in time for your infernal speeches, though it may be via some curious dimensional loophole. It’s midnight everywhere and nowhere at once, after all.

Picard: Q, I don’t mind how it long it takes.

Q: ... You don’t?

Picard: No. Well, assuming you’ll correct -

Q: Yes, obviously, and good - I might just have a little something else in mind for our first new year.

Picard: ... You are absurdly sentimental for an ages-old entity.

Q: You bring it out in me, darling. Ready for the fireworks? They’re about to count down, and I’d be a shame not to inform you of that classic new year’s tradition -

Picard: Oh, do you mean the kissing one? I quite agree, it would be a tragedy not to indulge that one...

Q: How on earth do you know - you are a consistent surprise, Jean-Luc. Was it the misspent youth?

Picard: Oh, almost certainly. Trois...

Q: Deux...

Picard: Un...

Q: ... Should have mulled the wine, really - mmph... but then, never mind...

Picard: Telepathic link? Cheap trick, though highly effective. Happy... whatever year this is, Q.

Q: You too, darling. Best you don’t know, trust me - just enjoy it. Allow me to fix that wine... a toast, then, albeit not under your precious bartender’s sinister gaze, and perhaps aloud?

Picard: To... France, some time in the future judging by the architecture, and to persistently stubborn gods who insist on taking me out of time.

Q: Oh, but you love me!

Picard: ... So help me, I truly do. 

Q: You see, that... 2657, Jean-Luc, to your mortal linearity at least. The year the Continuum’s civil war began. We don’t quite work on the same scheduling as mortals, of course, and... I needed a decent memory. Not necessarily today, but - and you appear to be kissing me again. Against a backdrop of fireworks. This isn’t at all cliché.

Picard: Are you complaining?

Q: Oh stars, no. Piling on the positive connotations, mon capitaine?

Picard: Doing my best to, yes.

Q: Oh, you always do. I can think of better locations, though...

...

Picard: Well, it’s a little more exotic than Paris, I’ll grant you that...

Q: A celebration on both our terms, dear. And the cusp of the correct year, too.

Picard: I... where are we? 

Q: Ah, and now that’s the question, isn’t it? I’m a god, Jean-Luc - immortal, of course, all-powerful, with more than enough gravitas to name as-yet undiscovered nebulas. Thought I might grant you the honour, darling.

Picard: ... You want me to christen this?

Q: Mm - though you might want to watch it explode first, get a feel for its totality. Ready for the real fireworks, Captain? Paris has nothing on this, I assure you.

Picard: ... I... you’re quite mad, Q! Deep space pyrotechnics, on New Year’s Eve.

Q: You’re welcome in advance, darling. Is that a yes?

Picard: Oh, always, mon dieu.

Q: Excellent - here we go!

...

Picard: I... I’m a diplomat. I’m not accustomed to running out of words, but...

Q: ... Never thought I’d see the day! I’m absurdly proud of myself, I’ll have you know.

Picard: You ought to be. You are astonishing, truly. I was going to make a speech, Q.

Q: Oh, you still are. Hopefully you’ve been a little more inspired, too?

Picard: I... completely, but - Q?

Q: Yeah?

Picard: Why do you want me to name this nebula?

Q: ... I take it you’re not going to accept ‘sentimentality’ as an answer?

Picard: You’re going to have to do a little better than that, I’m afraid. This is a grand responsibility for a human - this will, I take it, be known throughout the cosmos by the name I select?

Q: Oh yes. That’s the entire idea.

Picard: I... why, Q?

Q: ... You know, I wasn’t kidding about the sentimentality, Jean-Luc. You are the core of my universe; felt it best to make it official. After all, I imagine you’re familiar with this: ‘When wasteful war shall statues overturn and broils root out the work of masonry, nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn the living record of your memory.’

Picard: Sonnet 55. You... you wish to have a piece of me with you, out here.

Q: Would be quite nice, really... it’s very, very large, my dear, and so often empty.

Picard: You...  ‘’Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room even in the eyes of all posterity that wear this world out to the ending doom.’ 

Q: ... And everyone will know, yes, however indirectly, how very important you are.

Picard: ... Q?

Q: Jean-Luc?

Picard: I hereby christen this nebula 2383; Almond Croissant.

Q: You... you’re actually being serious. Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Picard: Mm, you may have mentioned it, though do feel free to elaborate. ‘It’s midnight everywhere and nowhere at once’, isn’t it?

Q: That it is, my darling... though we may have to revert back to the telepathic for a while...

[ask-q-and-picard]

Q, any opinions on the other eldritch creatures and cryptids of tumblr? I offer purple lipstick, a strongly-inaccessible cardinal number of almond croissants, and a season one box set of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Q: Oh my hypernovas, you are my new favourite mortal excluding Jean-Luc! Darling, this evening we feast as the kings I am, and we look fabulous as we do it! 

Picard: You’ll look fabulous, I do hope you mean… Q, what on earth’s ‘The Next Generation’? 

Q: Oh, no no no, no boxsets for you, thank you. Your tiny mortal mind couldn’t hope to understand -

Picard: - Is that the Enterprise? 

Q: Well of course it isn’t, you silly thing! How could it be? It clearly isn’t a primary example of spatio-dimensional multiplicity, dear - I’ll just that pop that in a pocket universe for now, don’t worry your pretty little head! Croissant?

Picard: … I… fine. We’re revisiting this, Q.

Q: Mm, naturally, you never could let anything go - later, though, far, far later hopefully… I need a mirror!

Picard: You’re welcome to use the bathroom, obviously, but I’m not sure why you’d want to -

Q: Eurgh. When a full vanity table is merely a snap away?

Picard: Well yes, quite… you will remove that, of course. Beverly will be most perplexed when she pops by for breakfast…

Q: Consider it done, yes. I most certainly need lipliner… an electric blue, perhaps?

Picard: Q, far be it from me to rain on your parade, but you should probably take care of that after the croissants, and you’ve yet to answer the question.

Q: Question? Oh yes, cryptids… more than enough of those in the universe as it is, without researching them specifically on the internet - though I have seen a few false gods out there, pretending to be me. Naturally, they’re all lying, though thank the stars some mortals strive for greatness. Most of you are entirely droll. Not you, Jean-Luc. You’re a delight. Now, honestly - teal or magenta for post-pastry indulgence?

Picard: … I have no idea, frankly, but there’s something distinctly unpalatable about that shade of blue that I can’t quite put my finger on…

[ask-q-and-picard]

Q is Ariana Grande’s “Break Up With Your Girlfriend (I’m Bored)” your theme song?

Picard: Is what his theme song? What in Starfleet’s name - Computer, do you have any information pertaining to Ariana Grande?

- Negative. -

Picard: Rather assumed not, yes… well, he can’t be reasonably angered by this. Curiosity is something to celebrate, especially in the human condition. Computer, authorisation code: Croissant, one-seven-oh-one; Jean-Luc.

~~ Ooo, hello! Welcome to Q-net, the personal database of omniscience! How may I help you, darling? ~~

Picard: … Of course it’s obnoxious… look, I’m almost loathed to ask, but -

~~ Oh, don’t be dearest! If I may assist you in some way, I’d be more than delighted to! Is it about fabric? ~~

Picard: Ah, no -

~~ French pastries? ~~ 

Picard: I - thank you, but I’m more than well-versed in such things -

~~ Ahhh, I see - you wish to know the great secrets of the fifteenth dimension! ~~

Picard: … There are fifteen? No, I don’t care to understand any such thing, frankly -

~~ Oh, thank the nebulas - he’d decommission me faster than you could say ‘crème pâtissière’. I ought to inform you that I’m thoroughly banned from revealing anything your mortal mind can’t process - ~~

Picard: I’d like to hear a song, alright? Just a single song from the past! I trust this won’t cause the collapse of civilisations ancient or modern, nor of my mental faculties?

~~ … Oh. Well, why didn’t you say? Of course it won’t! Name that tune, Captain! ~~

Picard: It’s… good galaxies, it’s this. By someone called -

~~ Mm, an icon, truly! Here you go, I’ll shut up… ~~

Picard: Finally…

…

Q: Evening, darling! My apologies for the lateness, rather unavoidably detained by Continuum bureaucracy - what are you listening to?

Break up with your girlfriend, yeah yeah, ‘cause I’m bored - you can hit it in the mornin’, yeah yeah, like it’s yours…

Picard: … So I assume this was the entire point of that absurd Sherwood Forest escapade?

Q: Jean-Luc, this system is supposed to be an emergency protocol -

Picard: That’s hardly an answer, Q!

Q: … I… would you be irreconcilably enraged if I said yes?

Picard: I would be very much displeased. 

Q: … Oh. Now, before you do anything rash, you should know that I’ve bought cinnamon buns along, mon amour -

Picard: Dammit, Q!

[ask-q-and-picard]

(Ladies, gentlemen, members of the Continuum of all shapes and sizes, please do forgive my absurdly long, depression-fuelled hiatus; I’m doing much better now, so I hope you’ll all accept a lovely piece of Christmas fluff for your reading pleasure as my apology! I shall get to responding to anything I haven’t yet over the next few days, but basically, we’re back, and I’ve had far too much gin and chocolate on this frankly lovely day - bring on the madness, mes amis, and compliments of the season! <3 #celestialout)

(P.S. Oh, and @q-card - not quite the drabble I’m promising for new year, but perhaps the next best thing? xD)

Picard: Will, you were exceptional today. Your diplomatic prowess is a credit to this ship, and to Starfleet.

Riker: Coming from the undisputed king of this sort of thing, Captain, that’s truly high praise.

Picard: Oh, well, I have been known to be good with words, Number One.

Riker: That you have, sir. Still, no potential shirking intended, but I’d rather sleep for a solid eight hours than ever consider co-chairing an inter-species conference again.

Picard: Between you and I, I couldn’t agree more. I think we both deserve an evening of full relaxation, frankly. A glass of the family vintage may even be in order!

Riker: Captain’s orders, I hope?

Picard: Make it so, only do try and ensure you’re sufficiently alive in the morning...

Riker: I’ll take it under consideration, Captain. I want you to know that I’m absolutely not about to leave you at your quarters and request a single drop of Guinan’s secret stash. I wouldn’t be so irresponsible.

Picard: Well, of course you wouldn’t. 

Riker: Glad we understand one another, sir. Night!

Picard: Enjoy yourself, Commander, and thank you. I for one am prepared to have a very much quieter affair. No distractions, hopefully. A little reading, perhaps some ambient lighting - 

...

Riker: Stretching the definition of ‘ambient’ a little there, Captain... and is that a tree? Where in the quadrant did you get -

Picard: I... Number One, what’s the stardate?

Riker: 48634.44, I think - it’s been a long few days -

Picard: ... Ah.

Riker: Is everything alright, sir?

Picard: Completely, Number One. Don’t let me delay your free time any further. I’ll see you in the morning.

Riker: Are you sure you’re -

Picard: Yes, perfect - do enjoy, that’s an order. Goodnight!

Riker: ... Yes sir...

...

Picard: ... Q, what in fresh hell have you done?

Q: ... Oh, has he finally gone? Thank me, truly... and you ought to be aware, my dear! You’re quite the historian, for a linear mortal anyway.

Picard: 48634.44 - 2372, of course, but also December 25th, known to my distant ancestors as -

Q: Christmas! A wonderful time of the standardised Federation year, Jean-Luc! Humans don’t much bother with holidays nowadays, of course - you’re all far too preoccupied with advancing and measuring and diplomacy, as though such things ultimately count. Frankly, I feel you should all lighten up; your family’s wine is quite the treasure, but have you considered adding spices to it, perhaps a little heat? Mulled wine, darling - the greatest tradition of them all.

Picard: Q, I... it’s been a very, very trying few days, as you know -

Q: Well, yes, hence this. You and I, tasteful decorations - slightly too tasteful, in my opinion, but I’m deferring to you, mon capitaine - cinnamon buns, which I haven’t indulged in just yet but are already threatening to overtake almond croissants in my heart, spiced wine, a genuine fireplace... gifts! I have a gift for you, Jean-Luc. You’re going to love it.

Picard: ... You didn’t have to do this, Q. I’d be perfectly fine with catching up on some sleep, and perhaps enjoying a lazy embrace or two -

Q: I don’t ever have to do anything, dear - I’m omnipotent, an authority unto myself. I simply wanted to. Traditionally, Christmas is a time for family... for home. You are mine; I am yours, I hope. Felt appropriate. I can snap it away, of course, if you -

Picard: Don’t you dare. And yes, you are. Thank you, mon dieu, for everything. This is... cathartic.

Q: I... I am. That’s... I truly... you couldn’t possibly understand... wine. We were going to drink mulled wine. And buns! Yes, wonderful -

Picard: I seem to have developed a habit of overwhelming you, recently.

Q: ... I can learn to live with such things, darling. There’s a spiral galaxy in the Theta quadrant, though, that may be in trouble. I’ll fix it momentarily. Just... give me a second.

Picard: I would greatly appreciate that, Q. So this is... warm wine? A fascinating concept...

Q: Yes, with spices, cloves, other such delights - oh, stop talking. I’m going to kiss you now, Jean-Luc.

Picard: Thank the stars for that.

...

Q: So, cinnamon buns...

Picard: Mm, indeed. Indulge me, Q - do you have a new favourite pastry?

Q: ... I may interchange our breakfasts, once in a while.

Picard: ... Dear lord. I didn’t think it was even plausible.

Q: Well, I do so hate to be predictable, Jean-Luc. I imagine you taste of cinnamon, now...

Picard: ... Well, we are a scientific vessel. It would be something of a crime if we didn’t test such things.

Q: Hush, you handsome thing you...

...

Q: ... Gifts, dammit, before you distract me any further!

Picard: Oh, because of course I’m the distracting one here.

Q: You have no idea, Jean-Luc. Beneath the tree, that’s how you all used to do it. A present, meant to indicate your affection towards another - the grandest tradition of them all, wine aside.

Picard: That’s very kind, Q, but I haven’t -

Q: You can replicate me something later, man - get on with it! Honestly, this is worse than that time you were twelve - model starship, really? You’re a walking  cliché, dear.

Picard: ... What? You did not -

Q: Oh no, couldn’t possibly have, of course. It was certainly your dinosaur of a father who thought that was a superlative birthday gift.

Picard: I... did you ever do anything else -

Q: No no, I know how deeply you value your infernal linearity - do hurry up!

Picard: Alright, alright... is this earl grey, Q?

Q: That is not simply earl grey, Captain. That’s the finest of earl grey. I should know - I’ve been cultivating the bergamot for the past month, in a rather despicably mortal manner I may add. It may have a slight aroma of deep space; don’t be alarmed, it creates a divine flavour profile. I fully guarantee it shall have no negative effect on the operation of the ship, unless you happen to take it anywhere near the warp core.

Picard: ... I’ll take full heed of that, yes... this is incredibly thoughtful, Q. And there’s this, too... it’s a box. A small box.

Q: Well observed, darling. You’re good at this...

Picard: ... And it appears to be velvet.

Q: ... Yes...

Picard: ... And it seems suspiciously as though it may fit a ring -

Q: Ah, no. Not in my entire immortality, dear. Far too human, worry not.

Picard: ... Thank heavens.

Q: Quite. You’re not a million light years away, however...

Picard: ... Q, what is this?

Q: Super-condensed nebula. Unbreakable glass, naturally - can’t have you destroying the local galaxy if you happen to take a tumble. And no, I haven’t stolen a phenomena for the aesthetic gravitas, however in character that might be - I made the thing specifically for this.

Picard: It’s... Q, this is spectacular...

Q: Darling, at considerable risk of being entirely too saccharine, the universe, all its infinite majesty, has been my only sanctuary for millions of years. It would have been rather an oversight not to transfer a fraction of the honour to my new one.

Picard: Q, I... may be about to be incredibly distracting, my dear.

Q: Oh, I really hope so.

Picard: No hope required, I assure you, but... you’ve given me a piece of space, Q, and I haven’t gotten you a single thing.

Q: Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Jean-Luc. You’re here, aren’t you? As though I need anything else.

Picard: ... We may never recover from this distraction, you know. I trust you’ll rectify time eventually?

Q: Mm. Eventually...