(no subject)
Jul. 10th, 2016 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tasha_yarGo to Deanna, some instinct said.
When she got there, Deanna hadn't been there. But she knew it was safe. She remembered hearing in some psychology class that humans needed play to develop. Maybe that's why she wasn't thinking. She hadn't been playing.
It was harder and harder to keep her thoughts together. As soon as she grabbed one, it just - popped - like a soap bubble.
A flash memory...The colony...someone had traded her soap for an errand. At first, she didn't know what to do with it outside of some vague memory it went with water. Ishara tried eating it. Tasha snatched it back and Ishara started crying. They fought and the soap dropped in some water. Colors floated to the surface. All the colors. Purple swirled with blues and greens and when she fished the soap out of the water, it was so slick and warm. Rubbing it against her skin made more colors and took the dirt away.
A flash of yellow catches her eye, snapping her back to the present.
That's what she needs! Colors! All the blues and purples and golds...Deanna has so many pretty things. She'll put them on, move them across her skin and this bad, out-of-control feeling will be washed away.
Tasha dives for the closet, opening it with a giggle and buries herself in a heaps of pliable, billowing cloth.
------------------------
That hadn't worked. She had been smiling, but Troi had felt it. The panic. The thing screaming in her to find control, to run, to hide, to wait until this feeling passes because it exposed her.
The clothing was pretty, but she couldn't make herself wear it. Some apprehension stopped her. It demand that she find her control.
But wasn't this control? Right now, she could shove doubt to the side. Let the excitement of it all carry her down the corridor. She was the chief of security in this gang. She could beat up anyone here. She needed to be happy. She needed to celebrate this.
Hide. No. Celebrate. No. Hide.
And then a devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear as an attractive man passed her: She could do both. Men had traded safety to her for their pleasure. The thought made her bearing change. She could do the same. She could feel her hips swing back and forth as she walked. Her whole body swayed like a water snake, and why not? She was powerful now. She should do the same. Entitled to it now. Things were out of control here. She should find someone and take them away from this. Someone who could please her this time! Maybe this one?
Someone makes the mistake of just staring at her as she walks dumbfounded. He's a slightly diminutive man. Shorter than her. The outfit says he's in medical or sciences; not a warrior. Perfect. She slows her gait enough to take his shoulder with her left hand and turn him to look at her. He just keeps staring and staring while she - after another possessive glance grabs the back of his head in one hand and crushes his lips with hers.
Sobriety then hits and hard. Whoever this is, isn't kissing back. He's not kissing back and she's not that. She not part of the rape gangs! She's Lieutenant Yar!
"Security Chief," she mumbles, letting the man go and jumping back as if he were set on fire. She can't even look at him. "I'm sorry, I'm not -"
She looks up. The man is staring off into the distance again as if she never happened, this time at a man. This time, his features melt into relief and enjoyment when the other man comes up and moves a hand across his cheekbone with the faintest of touches. Idly, she realizes she's never been touched like that. People are too afraid of her now.
Fear is good. Fear keeps you alive. Fear is what moves her along to her quarters.
--------------------------
Her uniform is too warm and is making her feel horrible. It's removed in favor of this outfit someone packed for her as a joke. It was this indigo thing. She thinks it was supposed to be sleepware. Whatever it is, it's loose and gauzy and colorful. The color helps. Plus she could fight in this.
--------------------------
The coms are going mad. Something about engineering the first minute. Something about security the next. Oh, wait...that was her name being mentioned. By the Captain.
"Captain Picard," she replies in a lilting tone, to herself, not realizing the coms are open.
But they are on, so he replies, "Lieutenant, where are you?"
Never let them see you scared. Keep smiling. Keep charming them. Keep the fear from your voice.
"I'm in my quarters, and I'm pretty busy right at the moment," she lied and then added - just to throw him off. "Jean-Luc." My, what a pretty name the Captain had!"
"All right, Lieutenant, you just stay right there. Data, please go to Lieutenant Yar and take her down to Sickbay."
Data! Oh...She bit her lip as she glanced in the mirror. Data is on the way. No, this wasn't good. He didn't get frightened. He didn't want anything other than to just be with people. She couldn't hide from Data. She'd tried in the holodeck once and nothing fooled him! People were afraid of Data for good reasons.
But she wasn't afraid of him. If they stayed together, they could get through this. Her mind rushed, discarding idea after idea as to what to do when he got here. This was too important to screw up, damn it!
A half-formed idea...more like a daydream she dismissed weeks ago...comes to mind. It ended well. So well she starts to giggle again as she runs to her bedroom. Data needs to see her different than she's been if this is going to work.
------------------------------
When she got there, Deanna hadn't been there. But she knew it was safe. She remembered hearing in some psychology class that humans needed play to develop. Maybe that's why she wasn't thinking. She hadn't been playing.
It was harder and harder to keep her thoughts together. As soon as she grabbed one, it just - popped - like a soap bubble.
A flash memory...The colony...someone had traded her soap for an errand. At first, she didn't know what to do with it outside of some vague memory it went with water. Ishara tried eating it. Tasha snatched it back and Ishara started crying. They fought and the soap dropped in some water. Colors floated to the surface. All the colors. Purple swirled with blues and greens and when she fished the soap out of the water, it was so slick and warm. Rubbing it against her skin made more colors and took the dirt away.
A flash of yellow catches her eye, snapping her back to the present.
That's what she needs! Colors! All the blues and purples and golds...Deanna has so many pretty things. She'll put them on, move them across her skin and this bad, out-of-control feeling will be washed away.
Tasha dives for the closet, opening it with a giggle and buries herself in a heaps of pliable, billowing cloth.
------------------------
That hadn't worked. She had been smiling, but Troi had felt it. The panic. The thing screaming in her to find control, to run, to hide, to wait until this feeling passes because it exposed her.
The clothing was pretty, but she couldn't make herself wear it. Some apprehension stopped her. It demand that she find her control.
But wasn't this control? Right now, she could shove doubt to the side. Let the excitement of it all carry her down the corridor. She was the chief of security in this gang. She could beat up anyone here. She needed to be happy. She needed to celebrate this.
Hide. No. Celebrate. No. Hide.
And then a devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear as an attractive man passed her: She could do both. Men had traded safety to her for their pleasure. The thought made her bearing change. She could do the same. She could feel her hips swing back and forth as she walked. Her whole body swayed like a water snake, and why not? She was powerful now. She should do the same. Entitled to it now. Things were out of control here. She should find someone and take them away from this. Someone who could please her this time! Maybe this one?
Someone makes the mistake of just staring at her as she walks dumbfounded. He's a slightly diminutive man. Shorter than her. The outfit says he's in medical or sciences; not a warrior. Perfect. She slows her gait enough to take his shoulder with her left hand and turn him to look at her. He just keeps staring and staring while she - after another possessive glance grabs the back of his head in one hand and crushes his lips with hers.
Sobriety then hits and hard. Whoever this is, isn't kissing back. He's not kissing back and she's not that. She not part of the rape gangs! She's Lieutenant Yar!
"Security Chief," she mumbles, letting the man go and jumping back as if he were set on fire. She can't even look at him. "I'm sorry, I'm not -"
She looks up. The man is staring off into the distance again as if she never happened, this time at a man. This time, his features melt into relief and enjoyment when the other man comes up and moves a hand across his cheekbone with the faintest of touches. Idly, she realizes she's never been touched like that. People are too afraid of her now.
Fear is good. Fear keeps you alive. Fear is what moves her along to her quarters.
--------------------------
Her uniform is too warm and is making her feel horrible. It's removed in favor of this outfit someone packed for her as a joke. It was this indigo thing. She thinks it was supposed to be sleepware. Whatever it is, it's loose and gauzy and colorful. The color helps. Plus she could fight in this.
--------------------------
The coms are going mad. Something about engineering the first minute. Something about security the next. Oh, wait...that was her name being mentioned. By the Captain.
"Captain Picard," she replies in a lilting tone, to herself, not realizing the coms are open.
But they are on, so he replies, "Lieutenant, where are you?"
Never let them see you scared. Keep smiling. Keep charming them. Keep the fear from your voice.
"I'm in my quarters, and I'm pretty busy right at the moment," she lied and then added - just to throw him off. "Jean-Luc." My, what a pretty name the Captain had!"
"All right, Lieutenant, you just stay right there. Data, please go to Lieutenant Yar and take her down to Sickbay."
Data! Oh...She bit her lip as she glanced in the mirror. Data is on the way. No, this wasn't good. He didn't get frightened. He didn't want anything other than to just be with people. She couldn't hide from Data. She'd tried in the holodeck once and nothing fooled him! People were afraid of Data for good reasons.
But she wasn't afraid of him. If they stayed together, they could get through this. Her mind rushed, discarding idea after idea as to what to do when he got here. This was too important to screw up, damn it!
A half-formed idea...more like a daydream she dismissed weeks ago...comes to mind. It ended well. So well she starts to giggle again as she runs to her bedroom. Data needs to see her different than she's been if this is going to work.
------------------------------
no subject
Date: 2016-08-28 07:45 am (UTC)Every file she's ever read; every conversation with Data has concluded the same way. No emotions, even as much as he wishes he could. But here. Now. He moves like he's nervous and off-guard and it delights her to see that foundation shake. Nothing would please her more than to watch it all fall away.
"You are fully functional, aren't you?"
no subject
Date: 2016-09-13 10:11 pm (UTC)Which is, after all, both the race he appears to most resemble and the race that he most desires to emulate.
"Of course, but--"
no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 01:20 am (UTC)The problem being that Data is unaware of all of this.
"In every way, of course. I am programmed in multiple techniques, a broad variety of pleasuring--"
no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 02:26 am (UTC)"Oh, you jewel!" she exclaimed, with excitement and drunkenness making her trip over the words ever so slightly. "That's exactly what I hoped."
And that's when something entirely expected and unexpected happened. Data smiled at her. Not some off-attempt where he was trying too damn hard, but this wondrous, curious, open smile! Tasha wanted more of that right now than anything else. She wanted to be the reason he smiled.
As she pulled him into her room and then pushed him gently on the bed her only thought was: Wonder what else he doesn't think he can do.
no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 03:48 am (UTC)The vast majority have to do with control.
There are a few, though, that exist in a section Data is unaware of.
His father wasn't entirely done with tweaking parts of Data. Emotional development was an area he had explored addressing in various ways. An emotion chip was one idea; it would serve as a shortcut around a problem that was difficult to address: how to make the intelligence aware of emotional growth taking place and to identify emotions being felt. How to let the person he'd created not just feel, but know that he'd felt--and to allow the emotions, then, to naturally, without the need of thought (even at the speed of thought a positronic brain is capable of) have those emotions influence actions.
Dr. Soong would give a great deal to be able to have observations of this interaction, along with all possible test results Dr. Crusher will have in the end. Even if Data's emotional growth lacks the maturity to know when not to act on his emotions.
But then, everyone on the ship is acting out a bit.
Data spreads his legs slightly apart and tugs her towards him so she's standing between both, one hand resting on her right hip.
The other picks up her left hand and carefully presses a kiss to it. He doesn't calculate how much pressure to use, nor does he analyze the chemical traces of several things she's touched that day.
(Later, after he's been told It did happen, he will allow himself to remember. Then he will realize that he took in that information without registering it at the time, because it was unimportant. He had behaved...naturally. Not naturally for him; naturally as a creature of nature, rather than technology.
He will not be able to replicate the experience. And he will register regret for the fact that he cannot tell Tasha the gift she gave him.
But that is later.)
no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 04:10 am (UTC)Rules from the colony flood back. Never let your guard down when fucking. Always watch out for them.
It hasn't been different in Starfleet. Sure, it's all free love until the diplomatic incident starts. Tasha prided herself on control - not as much as she'd like to have - but it's a never-ending process.
She dives in for his neck, leaving slow bites across it, tasting citrus and sweat. She'll know late it's not sweat, but so much of this feels like warp - something outside what, for a long time, flew in the face of rules science thought governed the universe.
So to hell with the rules. Her left hand rests on his shoulder while the right finds the zipper front of Data's uniform and moves it down in one, fast tug; faster than the speed of rules.
no subject
Date: 2016-10-03 04:36 am (UTC)His hands wrap around her torso, then, holding her slightly away from him; for someone with his strength who is forcing her to be where he wants her, his touch is incredibly careful and gentle.
"Tasha," he says quietly. "Pleasuring you is not something that either should or can be done in a hurry. It is not meant to be rushed. Nor do I wish> to rush. You expressed delight when I told you I am capable of several pleasuring techniques. Please allow me to use them."