I've revamped this blog a little bit. It will now include my ao3 and fics I post there, as well as be a blog where I take requests for oneshots.
My ao3: Obsessive_daydreamer
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
DNI list:
No racists, sexists, ableists, homophobes, transphobes etc.
Just don't be weird. You can be weird but not THAT ^ kind of weird.
What I will write:
Fluff
Character imagines
Slice of life
Mild angst (can be debatable)
What ifs
Smut, and a large variety of kinks.
I only write for tng, because that's the one I'm most familiar with and actually want to write. Might do Spirk in future.
What I will NOT write for this blog:
Extreme gore
Pedophilia, zoophilia and incest, with the exception of para-incest (notably, androids).
Using blood for sexual reasons. This is just a personal thing. Probably not scat either, but I'm open for debate. Piss is fine.
Character death.
That's probably not everything, but it will come up either way and I'll make that choice when it comes to it.
I'm also unlikely to respond quickly to asks and suggestions, so please don't get upset or think I've forgotten about you; I haven't. That's just how life works. Feel free to check in and DM if it's really taking a while, though.
And a reminder that, at the end of the day, this is just for me to wind down and have some fun.
(P.s. Some of my writing may be shit. I can't apologise for that, and the older writing from 2024 is OLD writing. It has its ups and downs. No beta for this blog).
(This oneshot was written and is dedicated to: @purplepixxxiemoon333).
The harsh laboratory lights dug into your head like little injections of exhaustion. Reports scrolled slowly up the screen before you, displaying words that seemed to twist and dance and lose their meaning to the patronising rhythm of nonsense. Logic and analysis gave into the unrelenting urge to rest.
It had been your own fault, really, allowing the excitements of the day to delay your work. But Data wouldn't likely approve of you skipping out on it for no good reason.
But would he approve of this?
You glanced wearily at the digital clock display on the padd.
0124
And you were only half done.
Shaking your head and dragging your hands across your face, you focused yourself back on the task.
The doors whooshed open, but you didn't bother turning to see who it was. A few people came in and out â some on the night shift, and some in a similar position to yourself â and you couldn't sacrifice your concentration for trivial curiosity.
You heard your name, spoken gently, almost imperceptible beneath the hum of the lights and your tired ignorance. You turned your head, hardly registering the voice until he stood before you.
Your heart leapt.
Whatever energy you had that had been dwindling suddenly gathered together in a surge of adrenaline. Data tilted his head, frowning down at you as his eyes flitted from your panicked, alert expression to the padd that had clattered onto the floor.
"May I ask why you are up so late? I did not think that your workload warranted an extra shift."
You shook your head, bending down with shaking hands to retrieve the padd from the ground.
"No, it's my own fault. I got distracted."
"I see."
He watched you for a moment as you tried to refocus. The screen blared cruelly into your eyes. Something about DNAâŠ
"I believe that your productivity would be far greater with the appropriate sleep," Data said, though you paid no attention.
He placed his hand tenderly upon the screen, and said your name again. You looked up.
"You do not need to complete this now. You will have plenty of time tomorrow." He took the padd from your hands and set it down upon the desk. "You cannot produce a good quality summary when your cognitive functions are compromised by sleep deprivation."
"I can try."
Data's eyebrows raised at this, but he did not question the agitation in your voice.
"Yes. But the probability of high success is significantly lower than it would be if you were to complete this tomorrow."
You sighed, leaning back against the chair and shutting your eyes. It felt so good to block out the vicious brightness to revel in the serenity of the dark.
You were vaguely aware of Data speaking to you, until his hands came upon your waist and lifted you to your feet.
"I will walk you to your quarters."
â
The sound of the doors whooshing open had a promise to it that you rather liked. The warmth of your quarters in comparison to the permanently cool temperature of the lab seeped into your skin, and flooded you with indescribable joy.
Collapsing upon the sofa, you began to struggle with your shoe laces. Data knelt before you, replacing your scrabbling fingers with his steady hands.
"May I?"
He looked up at you with a kindness you were very familiar with, and yet the dizzying effect it had upon you had much the same intensity as it always did.
You nodded, and he untied your laces within seconds, slipping your shoes slowly off your feet. In your weariness, you didn't consider the connotations of what he was doing â but you didn't have it in you to care, anyway.
"Would you like me to help you to bed?"
You looked down at your clothes and shrugged.
"Need to get changed."
"That is alright. I will remain outside whilst you undress."
He led you to your bedroom doorway, then turned around, leaving you partially in peace to strip off the stress of the day and dress yourself in the fluffiest pijamas you could find.
"May I turn around?" Data asked. It was such a simple request, yet you nearly cried at the sweetness of it, his back still turned to you.
"Yes", you said, pulling back the covers to sit upon the mattress. He entered the room, and you quickly realised that he had never actually seen your bedroom before. Your quarters, he had seen, but the way you adorned your bed with pillows, and decorated your walls in all your favourite things, was something that seemed to fascinate his wandering gaze.
He refocused his eyes on you, then picked up the duvet and gestured for you to lie back.
You obeyed, but watched him carefully as he pulled the covers over the top of you and began to adjust it around your form.
"What are you doing?" You asked.
"I amâŠ'tucking you in.' I believe it is the appropriate thing to do." He looked up at you for reassurance. "Is that correct?"
"I suppose."
Making yourself comfortable, you peered sleepily up at him through heavy eyelids as he finished his faffing and came to stand beside you.
"You can leave, if you want," you mumbled, ignoring your body's silent dread at the thought of it. His presence acted as a sort of nightlight or background tune, though he emitted neither, and seemed to lull your stressed body into a more docile state. He didn't even have to do anything. But you supposed he had better things to do than sit with you all night.
"Would you not prefer if I helped you to fall asleep?" He tilted his head, inquisitively.
You weren't going to say no.
He picked up the book discarded upon the bedside table, with a piece of string that served as a bookmark. He opened it to the page and sat down upon the end of your bed. His eyes flitted up at you, his expression expectant.
"I could read to you. It is another practice that is shown to have positive results when encouraging the mind to rest. In fact, it often serves as a form of mâ" He paused.
"A form of what?"
He seemed almost confused by your genuine interest, but nonetheless shook his head.
"Do not worry. It is time to sleep."
He returned to the book again, and began to read the first full sentence. As much as you wanted to remain awake to listen and engage with the hypnotic tenour that sustained an unbreakable pace, dreams enveloped the edge of your consciousness, and you found yourself sinking into sleep.
What TNG characters would dress up as for Halloween (late edition)
Data: Sherlock Holmes. Matching with Geordi. This one needs no explanation.
Geordi: Watson, matching with Data. Again, needs no explanation.
Riker: Either something completely random or ridiculous, or a classic zombie. Each year, it could be either one. Everyone bets on it every year.
Deanna: Definitely something classic, but doesn't go too far with it. Basic witch costume. One year, she dressed up as a cat, but never again after the tail got stuck in the turbolift doors.
Picard: He doesn't tend to dress up, however once Riker convinced him to dress up as Dixon Hill for a 1900s party he threw.
Worf: Constantly protests that Halloween is silly and dressing up is for children, but ends up dressing up as a werewolf every year.
Lore: Himself
Beverly: Something on the sexy side, but only just. Halloween is her time of the year to let loose a little. A devil or a cat costume.
Weasley: One of his favourite characters or scientists.
BONUS:
B4: A ghost costume that he made himself out of a bed sheet and doodled on. He forgot to cut eye holes, so Data secretly did it for him.
I just thought of the silliest thing, what if Data (early series), in his quest to understand human emotions, creates a replica of Geordi in the holodecks to help him understand love. Things start to get a little freaky, but before it gets really bad, the real Geordi walks in. Que awkward explanation.
Hello
"Geordi, do you love me?"
Geordi turned to look at him, visor tilted up towards Data's quizzical, golden gaze.
"More than anything, Data."
"And how does that make you feel?" Data asked. Although it was true that he could not experience love himself, listening to others' depictions of it helped him to conjure a better idea. Although this was this just a holoprogram, he had programmed it to be as accurate as possible.
"Hmm..." Geordi's hand reached up to his cheek, stroking it gently with his knuckles. Data allowed him to do so, curious as to what the gesture might suggest. He knew it was one of endearment, but was it also an invitation? A desire for further romantic gestures such as kissing, or perhaps hand-holding?
"It makes me feel..." The engineer leaned in, his breath blowing across Data's face, stirring his eyelashes in its wake. "Good."
"That is a commonly agreed upon factor of love," Data said, approvingly, "However, it seems that love also has the potential to cause the opposite, and it may in fact result in negative emotions such as pain or heart-"
He was cut off as Geordi suddenly pressed his lips against his own. Data did not kiss him back at first, curious and caught slightly off guard, but it didn't take long for his sexuality program to kick in. He increased the pressure of the kiss. This was, of course, a common physical demonstration of love.
"You know what else it makes me feel?" Geordi murmered, parting just long enough to say those words before his mouth began to trail further down, planting kisses upon Data's neck.
"Yes?"
He blinked as Geordi's hand slid further down his body, caressing the waistband of his pants before it began to dip down.
"It makes me feel hor-"
The arch appeared as the holodeck doors whooshed open, the real version of his friend entering through them.
"Data, I need your help with..." He trailed off, staring at the scene before him. A recreation of...himself...stared back at him, his arms circling Data's waist and his face flushed.
"Uhm, Data?" He looked to his friend for an explanation, feeling slightly flustered himself at the implications of what he had just walked in on.
"I apologise, I did not anticipate your presence. I was exploring what it means to love romantically," Data said, his tone nothing short of casual. It was obvious that this situation didn't occur to him to be anything more than experimental.
"...right."
Data tilted his head inquisitively, as he often did.
"Are you alright, Geordi? Have I made you uncomfortable?"
Geordi chuckled, though he wasn't sure whether it was out of the humour of this predicament or discomfort.
"It's...fine, Data. I just needed your help with a plasma conduit."
Data nodded, "I am able to assist." He began to move, but the hologram pulled him back, whispering something that made the android's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
I am so excited that you are taking requests. If it strikes you could you do a drabble where Geordi and Data get to give each other the classic side eye because of someone else (could be in a meeting, working in engineering or while out exploring). I just love when they give each other that look of 'can you believe what is happening here?'
"Hey, Data. You alright?"
"Emotionally, I am not experiencing anything that could be deemed the opposite, however also not what might fall into the category of-"
Geordi interrupted him with a loud sigh. "Just say you're fine."
Data nodded. "Then I am fine."
The Engineer shook his head in exasperation. He certainly wasn't annoyed by it - he'd been dealing with his friend's shenanigans for too long for that by now - but it absolutely could become a means for raised eyebrows every now and then. He never really seemed to be able to grasp the concept of what that sort of question was actually looking for in a response.
"Alright, you got that report?"
"Yes, I have completed it as you requested."
"Thank you..."
"The Turbolift doors opened just beside them, exited by 2 ensigns before they closed once again as the lift travelled elsewhere.
For whatever reason, they chose to hang around nearby, talking quietly amongst themselves. Geordi couldn't necessarily berate them for dawdling, as he was aware that their shifts didn't start for another twenty minutes or so, however he would rather they stood a little farther out of the way.
"...yeah, and then he told me to piss off."
"Well, did you?"
Choosing to try to focus on the task at hand, he attempted to white noise their conversation. He couldn't tell whether or not Data was interested, although the android tilted his head ever so slightly.
"No! I told him that if I found out he was messing around with her I'd take the ring back and leave. That thing's been in my family for years."
"Well, why'd you give it to him in the first place?"
"I thought he was the one, you know? Stupid daydreams like that..."
Ignoring the precarious topic of conversation right behind him, Geordi placed the PADD down and bit his lip.
He turned to Data with a frustrated groan. "Man, it's gonna take days to fix that. I mean, it won't affect the power too badly, but..."
Data's gaze lost focus on him, staring over his shoulder instead with interest. Geordi turned around.
"You did what?"
"I kicked his cat. She was a little bastard, anyway. I mean, look at this scratch-"
He twisted slowly back round, meeting Data's equally bewildered look, as if to ask the other what the hell they each just heard. Shaking his head for perhaps the second time that day, Geordi diverted his attention back to the task at hand.
"So uhm...that report..."
"I have given you the report already, Geordi," Data said, a concerned expression upon his face.
- Asks if you're alright and makes sure you're not injured
- Senses your embarassment and tries to makes you feel less humiliated, assuring you that it's alright. Gives you a reassuring smile.
- "I'm fine, no need to worry."
Worf:
- Attempts to catch you and asks, gruffly, if you're alright.
- Nods in acknowledgement and immediately moves on from the situation after assuring that you are not hurt.
- "I am not injured. That did not pose any damage to me, you are not very heavy."
Picard:
- Apologises and helps you to steady yourself.
- Spends a short amount of time assessing you but quickly moves on (he's the Captain of the ship, he's got places to be). Is somewhat shook by it but hides it with his professional mannerisms.
- "I'm fine, thank you."
Geordi:
- "Woah! Hey, are you alright?"
- Places his hands on the sides of your shoulders to make sure that you're steady. Profusely checks if you're okay and assures you that he's fine.
- "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
Data:
- Catches you without difficulty due to fast reflexes.
- Ascertains that you are okay and asks if you are having difficulty with balance or walking. He is somewhat concerned for your motor skills, though he knows that it is not uncommon for humans to lose some of that temporarily.
- "I am unharmed, there is no need for concern on my behalf."
Lore:
- Stares you down and watches you fall backwards from the collision.
- After staring at you for what he feels is an appropriately disconcerting duration of time, he walks right past you.
- "Fine." Bluntly. No further words.
Beverly:
- "Oh, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"
- Assesses you for signs of injury and is quickly assured that you are fine. She expresses that you look tired and prompts you to eat, drink, or get an early night.
- "That's alright, I'm fine!"
Riker (nearly forgot him):
- Stabilises you and asks if you're okay.
- Does the same shoulder thing as Geordi to continue to make sure you're steady on your feet. After spending a moderate amount of time assuring you that he's fine and making sure you are as well, he pats you on the shoulder firmly and walks off.
- (Alternatively he uses it as an excuse to flirt)
- "I'm alright, thanks."
Tasha (I had to add her):
- Grasps you swiftly so you don't fall backwards. "Are you alright?"
- Steadies you and checks you swiftly over for signs of injury and nods to you as she starts off again.
- "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
BONUS:
B4:
Is caught off guard by the collision and stares at you in surprise.
Once he has recovered from the initial shock, he holds out a hand to help you to your feet and asks if you're okay.
It's alright if you don't want to do this one as it is a bit angsty, but what about a drabble where Data has a panic attack caused by his emotion chip but Geordi comforts him afterwards? (I'm only up to season 5 but I know that he does get the chip at some point)
OMGOMGOMOGMOGMOGMGOMGOMOMGO I LOVE THIS REQUEST!??
ANDDD action:
He was 0.96 seconds too late.
0.96 seconds.
His hand remained where it was mid-air as his fingers missed Geordi's hand, watching in shock and horror as the Engineer's form faded into a miniscule sculpture of fear. His eyes were so advanced, so capable, that he noted every subtle change in expression as he fell. Confusion, to fear and, finally, to acceptance. He never saw his friend hit the ground, never heard the resounding echo of contact, as though there was no end.
There was nothing he could do. Geordi was gone.
-
A low shimmer met his pupils as they were unveiled by his opening eyelids. It was 0600 hours, and the lights had only just started to illuminate, simulating the gradual ascent of a sunrise. Of course, it was not necessary, as his internal clock was nothing like an organic's.
He lay still, watching blankly as the glow radiating from the ceiling grew steadily brighter, recalling the events of the dream.
It was just a dream.
Still dizzied by disorientation, he sat up, grasping the covers in either hand to remind himself of where he was.
It was just a dream.
0.96 seconds.
Empty fingers.
The face of terror reflected back at him.
He shook his head, as he'd seen many people do when they want to "shake off" a memory. It didn't help. He could feel his systems heating up.
He tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere, onto his shift in two hours, onto today's workload, onto anything but this. But his full focus could not be diverted, and the more he tried, the worse it got.
Warnings began to sound within, prompting him to cool down. His breathing sped up in a desperate attempt to abide by this request. It wasn't enough.
He tried to stand, struggling to remain stable on his feet.
0.96 seconds.
He stumbled out of his bedroom, aiming straight for the main doors to his quarters.
Empty fingers.
The doors opened for him without delay, allowing him to stagger through them. He couldn't stop the increase in temperature, his breathing mechanism now out of control. Much too fast. His biofluid pump whirred ever faster, and ever louder, dominating his hearing.
Fear, terror, panic.
He didn't know where he was going, clutching onto the wall as he made his way shakily along. What was happening to him? Was his chip malfunctioning?
Entering the turbolift, he found that he couldn't speak through the constant demands of air. Not that he knew what to say.
The manual controls lay just next to the door, and he found himself entering a deck number.
...
"Data?" Geordi mumbled, sleepily standing at his doors following the doorbell, "What...?"
"Geordi," Data managed to mutter with great difficulty. It was all that he could say. Too fast.
"Hey, Data? What's going on?" He noted the android's apparent distress, taking him by the wrist and guiding him over to the sofa, "Sit down..."
He took his seat next to Data, observing him with some concern as his breaths became more like wheezes.
"Ch...ip..." Data croaked out, his vocals fading in and out, distorting his words.
"Your emotion chip?" Geordi asked. He peered at his friend's face, watching as a bead of yellow liquid flowed down his cheek, "Data, you're hyperventilating..."
"Ca...not...hel..."
His eyes darted around the room, from the wall to the table to Geordi and back. The tears stained his face golden as they trickled down to his neck.
"Did something upset you? Hey..." He reached an arm around Data and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, "It's alright, you're alright..."
"Geordi," the android whined, turning to meet his eyes with a look of pure fright.
"It's okay, Data. Just try to breathe, like this." He demonstrated, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.
"I...can...not..."
"Yes, you can. Come on, repeat after me." He demonstrated again and, this time, Data imitated him.
A few minutes passed, and his systems had begun to return to normal. His internal temperature decreased, and his "heartbeat" and respiration had slowed significantly.
"You ok?"
"...yes..."
Geordi tilted his head with concern, "Data, what happened?"
There was no response for a few moments.
"I...had a dream." Data shook his head vigorously, and stared fixedly down at his hands.
"Like, a nightmare?" He nodded.
"I could not...save you...0.96 seconds..." Data mumbled the number over and over, to no one in particular.
"It's okay, it's not real."
Data nodded again, seeming to accept this statement.
"Regardless, I am still...affected by it."
Geordi smiled sadly at him, patting him on the back, "That's normal. There's nothing wrong with you - or the chip - for that. It's just human nature, Data."
Loarin II had been a blessing in disguise when you'd first seen it. Youâd heard little about it other than its involvement in the drug trade, with scattered civilisation that had the potential of criminality or a kind neighbourhood. No one spared it much thought, making it the perfect place to hide out for a while.
You'd been living off the radar for years. You didn't exactly have a criminal record, but you'd certainly pissed off a lot of people in your time, and better to be safe than sorry.
You'd managed to secure yourself a small home, rented for a reasonable price from a lovely, elderly man who'd lived on the planet for a few decades. This one, he'd told you, his son had used to live in, before he moved out and decided to join Starfleet. You'd learned a lot about this man's life from the short time you'd resided here, and everytime youâd come back after a temporary trip elsewhere, he'd greet you with his homemade cooking.Â
Dead wife, no other family, yet possessing a heart of pure gold.
And everytime you returned from your little trips, you'd bring a gift back for him. A token of appreciation, if you will, to fuel your symbiotic relationship.
You'd only been planning on staying here for a year or two, but the pleasantries of a life and hearth here had prompted you to stay longer and, after only 7 months, you already had plans to stay double that time at least. After all, you were young and spirited and had many decades left. You could move on whenever you fancied.
At present, it was Summer on the planet. It only really had 3 seasons, translated; Summer, Winter, and a season known as Seylon, which stood between them. The winter lasted 6 months â each lasting 25 days â and it never really became that cold. It was a rather tropical planet, and it possessed a heat that took a painstakingly long duration of time to get used to. The Summer, fortunately, lasted 3 months, with Seylon lasting anywhere from 4-5. They had an interesting way of doing things, these people.
It had been obstinately hot today, the stubborn and arrogant sun enjoying your suffering beneath its rays. Fortunately, the later the day progressed, the less intense these rays became, and you found yourself sitting in the garden comfortably.
Absent-mindedly, you scrolled through your device. You honestly had no idea what it was called, but it could connect to the Net, and it had worked well for years, so you weren't that bothered, really.
Lifting your glass of water to your lips, you took a sip.
A crash resounded through the air and you startled, cursing as you spilled the liquid all down your front. You stood up, placing the glass into the cupholder on the chair and moving round the side of the house to see what all the chaos was about.
There was some amount of yelling, though you couldn't pick up what they were saying.
Coming to your front lawn, you peered at the scene unfolding further down the road with some amusement and confusion as you noted a small space vessel parked on someone else's fence. The action had not gone unnoticed by the occupant of the house it belonged to and your eyebrows raised at the variety of slurs spilling from his mouth. You knew the man relatively well, though you actively tried to avoid him. He was a despicable, nasty bastard, and he honestly deserved this.
The doors hissed open, some amount of smoke billowing out. Clearly, something had gone wrong, which was the inevitable cause for this crash-landing. Impressively, the outside of the vessel remained beautifully intact, even if it had been landed a little hap-hazardly.
Unfortunately, your fascination rapidly faded.
The silhouette became all too clear, all too quickly. Clad in all black, tight-fitting to his figure and leaving nothing to the imagination â that was your first clue. Then the pale hand that reached out for the side, glittering almost golden in the sunlight; that had been your second. And then those eyesâŠthey were unforgettable. The deep inferno of hell itself glared at its surroundings, looking both smug and disgruntled simultaneously. He hadn't seen you yet. You still had time to hide.
But you found yourself rooted to the spot. Of all the fiends it could have been, out of ANYONE it could have been, it just had to be him. The man you'd managed to piss off more than any of them.
His attention quickly glued itself to the one screaming swears at him, drawing out a bored eye roll as he swiftly and gracefully made his way over. He stood there, one eyebrow raised in mockery, enduring all the hatred with disinterest.
You turned to go inside, when the screaming stopped abruptly. You paused, dread and fear rushing through you as you slowly rotated on your heel.
He had the man in a chokehold, holding him in the air with little effort. He was saying something that you couldn't quite make out, but whatever words left those deadly lips was enough to render the man silent.
You should have gone inside when you could, shouldn't have let your curiosity get the better of you. But you had, and there was nothing you could do now.
Those deceptive, sinister eyes landed on you, and it was all you could do to turn and start running. Even though you knew it was pointless, even if you were dead before you'd even made eye contact.
You grunted as you collided with an unyielding, solid wall of a chest, tumbling backwards onto the grass.
âWell, wellâŠwhat do we have here?â Cold hands grasped the hem of your shirt and dragged you to your feet, then a little higher, so your toes were barely brushing the grass. You swooned from the collision, struggling to focus your gaze on him.
He laughed, sickly, relishing in your weakness. In your racing heart that you knew he could hear perfectly well.
âLâŠLoreâŠâ
A nasty smirk spread across his face, bitter and loathing.
