#just putting it up now as a reminder for myself :D

[vsvillain]

✩ hard to get — k.cw (smau)

pairing. chaewon (le sserafim) x fem reader

summary. kim chaewon, campus heartbreaker, has never had a problem with getting what she wants from whoever she wants. so why does she become completely useless around you?

info. college au, social media au, mostly unserious fluff but there is some angst later 🤗 ft. clueless reader and chicken chaewon

warnings. swearing, sexual references, terrible humor

taglist. open! comment/dm/ask to be added :)

(a/n) adapted from wattpad :D extremely slow updates while i try to figure out how the stupid bird app works (and also finish university applications because those are more important than writing fanfiction about this random 23 year old korean woman 💔💔💔)

profiles. yn's stray cats / chaewon's probation officers

001 party rockers in the house tonight 002 who's that girl? 003 an attempt was made 004 let me get this straight

(and more tba...)

[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

[uzurakis]

HERE TO SEND YOU BLUELOCK HEAD CANNONS! >:D

Can you do headcannons of the guys and how they would be like if they were teaching us how to play soccer? Hope this is interesting for you ^^, if you're interested to make them thanks in advance!

TEACHING YOU SOCCER?!

featuring: michael kaiser. itoshi rin. oliver aiku. isagi yoichi. bachira meguru.

n. yees darling, i was invested to write this (it's a challenging one because i don't really play soccer myself). hope i nailed it though, thank you to u too <3

MICHAEL KAISER. "nice shot!" kaiser exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "but don't get too cocky, mein liebling."

"learned from the best, i guess," you teased, nodding toward kaiser. "after all, my boyfriend's the world's number one striker, hmm?"

kaiser's eyes widened in mock surprise, a beam spreading across his face. "well, when you put it that way," he said, puffing out his chest with pride and sliding back his golden locks. "i suppose i am pretty amazing."

"ah, but if i'm the world's number one striker," he continued, trying to tease you with words, "then that must mean you have to kneel before me, right?"

you lifted an eyebrow, unable to stop snickering at his exaggerated claim. "huh, is that so?" playing along with his joke. "i guess i'll have to remember to bow down to the soccer king himself."

the guy grinned, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "that's more like it," now his voice filled with mock superiority, typical kaiser. "but don't worry, i'll be a generous king."

ITOSHI RIN. "fine, i'll try my best, but just so you know, i'm not really good at teaching," rin confessed, feeling apologetic because he’s not used to teaching others. and now, his girlfriend wants to learn how to play soccer.

rin took a deep breath, trying to muster up some confidence as he began to explain the basics of dribbling. "uh, alright, first, dribbling. just try to keep the ball close to your feet for now," he instructed, a bit hesitant.

"oi, dont look at me, look at the ball," he reminded you. "sorry," you chuckled, truly didn't realize you weren't paying attention. come on, just look at him. "if i’m being honest, you look really hot like this," you teased, but, it’s true though!

rin's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, but he quickly regained his composure. "focus," he replied. though there was a hint of annoyance, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at rin's face as he continued to give you instructions, his cheeks flushed slightly from your earlier comment.

suddenly, rin's voice broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "i said focus!"

OLIVER AIKU. "keep your eye on the ball and follow through with your kick," aiku instructed while you attempted to pass the ball to him.

even when you struggled or made mistakes, aiku remained patient and supportive, offering gentle guidance to help you improve. "try to angle your foot a bit more next time," he suggested, as you missed the mark with your pass. "you're doing great, sweetie. just keep practicing."

by the end of the session, you were exhausted but thankful for aiku's patience and support. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a proud smile on his lips.

"you're making progress, sweetie," he soothed, genuine and affectionate. "with a little more practice, you'll beat me out here."

BACHIRA MEGURU. "okaaay, let's start with some dribbling drills," he said, bachira was overjoyed since this meant he had another friend to play soccer with. "try to keep the ball under control as you move around me, kaay?"

you nodded, determined to give it your best shot. as you began to dribble the ball, you stumbled a bit, but bachira was quick to offer a push. "nice job, baby! you're getting the hang of it," he cheered, clapping his hands in support.

with each effort, you gained confidence and dribbled past bachira with greater ease. bachira congratulated you on your small wins every time you successfully escaped him. "woah, that was awesome! baby, i’m so happy!" he exclaimed, giving you a high-five.

"great effort, babes! keep it up, and you'll get it," he encouraged, his words filling you with determination. “lets keep playing together!”

ISAGI YOICHI. "hey, it's okay," isagi said gently, stepping closer to you. "here, let me show you."

he moved behind you and gently guided your legs into the correct position, his touch firm yet gentle. "see? keep your body low and your touches light," he explained, moving your legs in rhythm with the ball. "you've got this, angel.”

with isagi's guidance, you began to feel more confident, dribbling the ball with increasing control. whenever you made a mistake, your boyfriend always offered gentle correction and encouragement.

"nice try, but try to keep the ball closer to your feet," he would say, his tone encouraging. "like this," demonstrating the correct form before guiding your legs to mimic his movements.

@uzurakis

[st-dionysus]

(The Poem is named) Emetophobia CW

It’s 2024 and I’m in a 20 year old drag bar, watching the very first trans-masculine performer to compete on their stage, he gets second place even though he deserved first.

I show up to the men’s bathhouse on trans night to get free entry and get turned away at the door, and told it’s for transgirls only, bitch you could have put it on the flyer that transmen need not apply.

I’m doing a line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I get banned from the camsite for listing myself as transgender when I don’t have a dick, I complain online and get told that the trans-masculine body is to grotesque to be fetishized and I should be grateful.

I wear a packer and hitch up a skirt, walk the street, get $20, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Cissie puts a TW #body-mutilation tag under my thirst trap. Tranny puts a TW #dysphoria tag under my thirst trap.

T-girl with a callout post pedojackets me, Enby with TME in bio pedojackets me, T-boy with a self-deprecating joke about men in his bio pedojackets me.

I do another line of ketamine off the table, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic, I am at the woman’s clinic wearing a mask – not cause I’m compromised (I am), just to hide my beard – avoiding making everyone uncomfortable.

I am getting re-diagnosed with BPD, which just means I have bitch disorder and no one trusts me.

I take my pills and throw them up. I drink my liquor before the beer and throw them up.

I am just 14 when the picture and videos go up. Remind me that I have it easy, they were only pictures and videos.

I am just 17 when the recording of my proof stops before it happens, my phone memory is full, I’m called a liar and now I can’t see buttered crackers, thanksgiving, or sriracha sauce without wanting to kill myself.

No one gets me therapy, but they still want to convert me, she puts her hands down my pants, at least I’m 19, to remind me I’m a woman – tell me how they love trans men again.

I do a third line of ketamine off the table, realize it doesn’t effect me, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I call myself a dog, I start biting my lovers and I have to hold back from ripping out a chunk of flesh, I don’t think I’d throw it up.

I am reading the statistics, 40% of BPD patients try and kill themselves. 1 in 2 transgender men try and kill themselves. I’m one of them. I’m 12 and I swallowed all the pills. I’m 14 and the gun is empty. I’m 17 and I put the box-opener against my throat. Therapist calls me a liar, there is no scar, and my words don’t count for anything.

I’m using he/him pronouns for Stormé DeLarverie, like the stonewall veteran association said to, and telling you he started the riot, calling it stealing transfem valor from a woman who told you she didn’t fucking do it.

I’m shoving my fingers down my throat in a fit of mania, convinced I can vomit up my uterus. She tells me I should be grateful, she’d do anything to be able to get pregnant.

My brother in the struggle gets bottom surgery without top, calling it stealing transfem valor to feel comfortable in his body.

It’s 2024 and I’m at trans pride, the announcers tells everyone to give a round of applause for trans woman, a round of applause for gender-queers, a round of applause for transfems, a round of applause for the enbies, a round of applause for trans-masculine people. You forgot someone. Did you know a trans man started the first ever transgender pride parade?

A book on queer history talks about gay men and lesbians and trans women and the women who dressed as men for better job opportunities. I’m reminded that my invisibility is a privilege, if you aren’t seen you don’t get bashed.

I’m 13 and they throw me in the girls bathroom, pin me down, beat me, and in black sharpie write “dyke”, write “tranny”, write “lesbo”, and pull my hair out the cap I shoved it in.

I’m 19 with D cups that a binder can’t hide and a beard I refuse to shave less I break the mirror and kill myself with the shards of glass I would swallow.

Man at the bus stop calls me tranny and tells me I’ll never be a woman. I’d laugh if he didn’t have his hand on my throat. Calling it stealing transfem valor.

I’m 21 and have to pull a taser on him, cause from the back, even with short hair and top surgery, I look rape-able.

I’m 23 and in the gay district when they chase me down the street, calling me faggot.

Make another forcemasc post, calling it stealing transfem valor.

Read an article about a trans man prostitute that kills himself and ends up another female statistic.

Read an article about a trans man shooter, they blame the HRT he didn’t have access too.

Going to read a callout about me, five pages on Google Docs, does this post make it on the list?

Do a final line of ketamine, write the final line of a poem that makes me want to die, calling it stealing transfem valor.

I puke and miss the toilet.

[froggiewrites]

Did I Say That Out Loud?

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You and Ace get lost in a snowstorm. While Ace is fine in the cold, you need warming up, and he's willing to help. Warnings: Fluff, Huddling for Warmth, Accidental Confession Word Count: 1.2k Notes: This is a short thing I wrote to break myself out of a funk I got into with a different, longer piece. I just had to write about Ace huddling for warmth, he's perfect for it! Crossposted from Ao3

There are few things you can rely on in the Grand Line. There’s danger around every corner, both from the environment and the pirates filling every inch of it. There’s few people you trust, and fewer who deserve it. But up until now, you would have said you trusted Portgas D. Ace with every fiber of your being.

And then he got you lost.

“I could have sworn it was around here.” You have no idea where here even is, your vision filled with nothing but white as the snow continues to fall. You’d always trusted his directions, knowing his survival skills were finely honed from his childhood, but you’re suddenly reminded he grew up in a jungle nothing at all like the snow capped peaks of the mountain you’re currently stuck on. He’s scratching his head, checking a map that looks absolutely nothing like the terrain around you.

“Ace.” You try to keep the anger out of your voice, but with the way his shoulders tense you can see you failed. “Do you have any idea where we are right now?”

“Um.” He looks back at you, puppy dog eyes wide and asking for forgiveness. “We’re on the mountain?”

“Oh my god.” You put your head in your hands, which are rapidly losing feeling from the cold. Your gloves are not thick enough for the temperature right now, the gentle snow from when you docked slowly growing closer and closer to a blizzard. “We’re gonna die.”

“We’re not gonna die.” You feel a warm hand on your head, grounding you and pulling you from the panicking bubbling in your chest. “We brought food and water, we’re gonna find shelter, and we’ll wait out the storm. It shouldn’t last long.”

“How do you know that?” You peek up at him through your lashes, and see nothing but his smile, soft and reassuring.

“A storm like this shouldn’t last longer than a day at most.” He sees the panic on your face again, and he continues. “I know a day sounds like a long time, but we have enough supplies for at least a few, if we ration, and we passed a cave on the way here that seemed pretty protected from the elements. We’ll really be fine, I promise.” He gives you that boyish smile that makes his face light up like the sun, the one that always makes your heart race.

You nod at him tiredly. The hand on your head shifts to fall around your shoulders easily and effortlessly, and he pulls you under his arm for a quick side hug. You expect him to pull back, but you see his brows furrow as he pulls you closer. “You’re freezing.” His free hand grabs one of yours and he hisses slightly at the feeling of your ice cold fingers. “Oh god, you’re really freezing. Let’s hurry.” His hands warm further, the heat seeping through your thin gloves and inadequate coat, and he begins to pull you forward in the snow.

You find the cave relatively quickly, thankfully, and Ace quickly makes a small fire for you two. He looks especially beautiful in firelight, like he was born for it. You don’t often get to admire him like that, usually only seeing him bathed in flame in battle, but in this peaceful moment you finally get to take your time memorizing his face in the gentle orange light. His freckles look particularly charming like this, and you suddenly have the urge to kiss them.

The cold must be getting to you. Another shiver racks your body, and you realize that it really is, your lips feeling numb and the cold floor beneath you doing nothing to help the situation. You wonder how long it would take for someone to die of exposure. 

“You alright over there?” He gives an easy smile, but you can see the tension behind it. He’s genuinely concerned.

“I’ve been better.” You struggle to speak over the chattering of your teeth. He seems entirely unbothered by the cold, of course, with his powers, though he’s still wearing a thick black coat just for the sake of it. His face is painted with concern as he approaches you, nose scrunched adorably in thought, but you see his eyes light up with an idea. He reaches you, settling close, before he begins unbuttoning his coat and revealing his bare torso.

“Ah–um–Ace?” He slips his coat off, and you’re torn between admiring his physique and worrying about him catching a cold, no matter how impossible you know that is. He doesn’t acknowledge your confusion and concern, instead wrapping his coat tightly around you, engulfing you in his scent.

“Are you still cold?” He leans closer, and you can barely focus on his words over the smoky scent of his coat.

“Um, a little?” It comes out as a question.

“Hm.” He puffs out his cheeks a little in displeasure. “Well. I have one more idea.” Without any warning, he abruptly pulls you into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you as your frantically adjust to keep your head from pressing directly between his pecs. You end up with your thighs on either side of his hips, your hands on his chest, your noses brushing together.

“Is that any better?” He’s staring intently into your eyes as he asks. You can feel his breath on your face, feel his heartbeat beneath your hands, see every freckle painted across his face.

God, what I wouldn’t give for you to kiss me right now.

“What?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“I–” You try to push away in panic, but his arms keep you in place.

“Do you mean that?” His breath is against your lips, so hot compared to the chill around you.

You want to tell him no, to insist he misheard you, salvage some of your dignity, but then you register the intensity of his eyes as something you weren’t expecting: hope.

“Yes.”

His lips crash against yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, the heat radiating off of him seeping into you down to your very bones. His strong hands come to rest on your hips, and your hands wander up to tangle in his raven hair. You can hardly feel the icy cold anymore, can hardly feel anything but Ace pressed against you and his soft lips on yours. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, and you easily part to allow his tongue to explore.

His hands begin to wander up your back, under your shirt, and you feel your skin heat beneath his touch. You can’t tell if he’s using his devil fruit or if it’s simply the chemistry between you, but either way you feel warm and safe. You’d stay like this forever if you could.

Eventually you’re forced to part for air, panting, and he gives you a cheeky smile. “Are you warmer now?”

“Hmm…” You trace your fingers down his chest, trying not to grin too widely when he shivers. “I think I’m still a bit chilly, actually.”

“Want some help with that?” He’s smiling so wide the edges of his eyes are crinking with joy.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

His lips meet yours once again, and you completely forget about the storm raging outside.

[daeniradraconis]

Banter Between the Lines - Hughes Brothers

Author's Note: Hey, so here’s another quick chat-style piece! I haven’t had much time to sit down and write properly lately, so short and sweet it is for now. 😊 Feel free to send me some requests if you’d like! (You can check out the "rules" here: link). I can’t promise when I’ll get to them, but I’ll definitely find time soon.

Summary: A little fluff with a touch of smut (nothing too crazy, just some extra flirting). Quinn’s girlfriend roasts the boys while calling them out in their group chat.

Warnings: Nothing major, just some mention of 🍆.

It was one of those quiet Sunday nights where everything felt slow. You'd spent the evening catching up on your favorite shows, but it was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was Quinn. The constant distance between you two had become harder to ignore with each passing day, and as much as you loved how happy he was with his team, you missed him. And, truthfully, you missed the whole family.

You’d gotten close to Jack and Luke over the years, and now, with Quinn playing for the Vancouver Canucks and Jack and Luke together on the New Jersey Devils, the family dynamic felt a little more spread out than you liked. Sure, they’d all make time for you when they could, but it wasn’t the same as those days when you’d all hang out together.

Tonight, instead of a call or a quick text, you decided to turn to something a little more familiar. You opened up youtube and searched for their latest highlights.

All three of them were struggling on the ice, and it showed. It hurt to see them like this, especially when you couldn’t do much to help. So you did what you always did in times like these—opened the group chat and prepared to roast them into oblivion. If nothing else, it might make them laugh.

you: just finished your highlights. Quinn, congrats on being the saddest guy on the ice again 🥇. Jack, loved the mini tantrum energy 👏. Luke, did you forget which team you play for? because those turnovers were next-level.

Jack: wow, you really woke up and chose violence.

you: always. someone has to keep you humble.

Luke: humble? this feels more like a personal attack.

Quinn: what would you call it, then?

Luke: bullying.

you: oh, Lukey, don’t take it so hard. I tease because I care 💕

Jack: you literally plotted my ex’s demise last month. is that “caring” too?

you: first of all, it wasn’t a plot. it was more of a… fantasy.

Quinn: putting her in the ground “while she’s still breathing” doesn’t sound like a fantasy…

you: listen, if she hadn’t been such a manipulative little snake, I wouldn’t have had to consider it 🐍

Luke: terrifying. but honestly? fair.

Jack: I could’ve handled her myself, you know.

you: oh, really? because from where I was sitting, she had you wrapped around her finger like a puppet.

Quinn: she’s not wrong!

Jack: whose side are you on?

Quinn: hers. always.

you: damn right honey. and don’t worry, I’m not plotting her demise anymore… unless she tries to come back. then all bets are off.

Jack: remind me to never date again. you’re scarier than Quinn’s slap shot.

You grinned as the banter flew back and forth, but your focus shifted to Luke. His disastrous date still didn’t sit right with you.

you: okay, but seriously, Lukey. I've heard some gossip. how does a girl ditch you mid-dinner? you’re literally the sweetest human alive.

Luke: THANK YOU! finally, someone gets it.

Jack: don’t encourage him. he needs to toughen up.

you: excuse me? let him be sweet! not every guy needs to have your level of 'I’m too cool for feelings,' Jack.

Quinn: valid point.

Luke: thank you, Quinn.

you: honestly, Luke, I’ll never understand how she left. did you say something weird?

Luke: no!!! I was perfectly normal.

Quinn: “normal” is a stretch…

Jack: is this really the same guy who told a girl on a first date he’d make six different accounts just to sort himself into Hufflepuff six different times because he didn’t 'trust the algorithm'?

Luke: OKAY, THAT’S DIFFERENT. I was being honest!

you: oh, Lukey. you’re lucky you’re adorable because that is painful 😂

Luke: this is why I didn’t want to tell you guys.

Quinn: bro, it’s fine. just embrace the awkward puppy vibe. it’s clearly your brand.

Luke: I hate you.

Jack: ugh, why does he get the sympathy? roast him more guys!!! I can’t be the only one taking L’s here.

you: because Luke doesn’t put ketchup on his eggs like a serial killer, Jack.

Luke: yeah, what is WRONG with you? ketchup on eggs? really?

Jack: you people are so dramatic. it’s normal.

Quinn: nothing about that is normal.

you: thank you, Quinn. once again, the only rational person in this chat.

Jack: stop flirting with my brother. it’s disgusting.

Luke: seriously. I can feel the weird vibes through my phone.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to push their buttons.

you: you’re just mad because Quinn’s risotto is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Quinn: best risotto AND lasagna. don’t forget!

you: how could I? it’s the only reason I keep you around. And of course your magic 🍆

Quinn: oh, not my sparkling personality? btw you're objectifying my body...

you: hmm… maybe that too. but i have my priorities straight!

Jack: 🤢 STOP. this is disgusting.

Luke: seriously. this is TMI guys!!

you: just jealous, you two can’t even scramble eggs properly.

Quinn: cooking skills = key to a woman’s heart.

Luke: ugh. golden child strikes again.

Jack: some of us don’t need to cook because we have charisma, thank you very much.

Quinn: does your charisma excuse ketchup on eggs? because it shouldn’t.

Luke: still the biggest red flag in this chat.

Jack: Y’ALL ARE SO DRAMATIC.

You smiled at their bickering, your heart full, untouched by their chaos.

you: okay, but for real… I miss you guys 💔.

Luke: aww, finally some love.

Jack: are you feeling okay?!

you: don’t get used to it. but yeah, I miss you. Quinn, risotto night when you’re home! Jack and Luke, you can come eat it too.

Quinn: deal. but I’m ignoring them for the first hour I’m back. i need my time with you!

Luke: RUDE!

Jack: gross. is this the flirting portion of the chat? can we not?

you: love you too, boys. even if you’re disasters.

Jack: love you too. now stop flirting with Quinn before I puke.

Luke: seriously. save it for your own chat.

Quinn: jealousy doesn’t look good on you two.

Luke: jealous of what? your cooking? maybe. your 🍆? absolutely not.

you: you should be Lukey! your brother got some great 🍆

Jack: I’m OUT.

Luke: same.

Quinn: good job hon. guess it’s just us now. you: just how I like it 😘

[secriden]

Something that really struck me about Style this episode is how real his fear was.

And I don't just mean his fear of the inevitable conclusion of the path Fadel's hurt and anger has set them on; although this, too, was so very real and honest and tore me to pieces in ways I can still barely process.

But it's interesting how Style talks about being afraid of dying generally and specifically how harm could come to them from an external source. How the way his fear is orientated puts Fadel on the inside ("a murderer is gonna come after us"), on Style's side and someone Style wants to keep safe.

And when Fadel makes the kind of snide joke about letting the hypothetical cannibals kill and cook Style, Style's solution still involves staying by Fadel's side. At no point does he ever stop referring to Fadel and him as a single unit, even after Fadel very explicitly frames Style as the only victim.

I'm bringing this up because I think as a fandom (myself included!!) we may have mistaken Styles unshaken confidence for a lack of fear. We saw Style stare down the barrel of Fadel's gun with an unimpressed look of disdain or the way he casually discusses Fadel killing him at the end of their journey, and we (understandably) think this is evidence of his fearlessness, of his boldness and sense of wild optimism that admittedly fits his character quite well -- but it isn't.

I think Style is very afraid, actually. He has many fears and chief among them at this point is that he does not want to die. He does not want to leave his life or is dad or his friend or his cars or his boyfriend who still thinks he doesn’t love him!

And those tears?? Those tears were real because lying next to Fadel with a metal handcuff digging into his wrist was a painful reminder of their broken trust; the terrible chasm hidden in the scant inches between them, all as the result of Style's past choices and the pressures on all our main characters.

And I think part of it was also Style finally coming down from the adrenalin rush of: (a) Kant and Bison going missing, (b) being chloroformed and kidnapped and stripped naked and tied up, (c) being threatened at gunpoint whilst still reeling from the knowledge that Fadel knows and perhaps has known since the first warning signs of his sudden affection, and (d) not being shot and then being told to drive for hours on a seemingly impossible quest with no real destination.

But I also think this was the core of why Style is so sad. Because even if Fadel forgives him, there's a very real possibility that Style's actions and choices could lead him to dying if not at Fadel's hands then maybe because Style is now at risk of getting caught in the crossfire too. Because Style may well find himself standing between a bullet and Fadel one day, and that choice has repercussions beyond Style himself.

But his fear and his sorrow makes Style's choices on this journey all the more poignant and beautiful. Because Style commits to his love at the end of the day. He is unapologetically honest with Fadel and gives him not just the weight of what it means for Style to choose him, but the right for Fadel to keep his anger in spite of it. At no point does Style demand Fadel's forgiveness or trust or the relinquishing of the distance Fadel keeps between them.

Because Style's heart is his to offer, but equally it is Fadel's to take. And I think to fail to recognise the reality of Style's fear is to undervalue the weight of what it means when Style says "You own my life" -- when this took everything Style had in him to give.

[nejiverse]

FORGETFULNESS

Gojo Satoru

In which Gojo’s forgetfulness earns him the silent treatment from his two girls. Fem! Reader

cw: none and omg its been like a month since ive written anything im shocked tbh lol i’ll try to get through requests! Not proofread

600 words

You could hear your husband sigh loudly and dramatically even though he wasn't in the same room as you.

You rolled your eyes and couldn't stop the smile creeping up to your lips as you ran a hand through your daughter's hair, opting to do two pigtails for her as per her request.

Another sigh came from Gojo's lips but this time it sounded closer. You looked at his reflection through the bathroom mirror and were met with the man child peeping through the gap between the door and door frame with a pout on his face.

Your daughter— who was sat comfortably on the counter near the sink— made eye contact with her father but quickly closed her eyes and folded her arms with an even more dramatic huff (like father like daughter).

"D/n please! I said i'm sorry! I promise i'll never ever do it again!", Gojo wailed.

His daughter who was refusing to talk to him, pointed an accusing finger at him through the mirror. "Leave me alone papa!".

"It was one birthday! I always remember the rest of their birthdays!", he lied. He didn't remember a single one of his daughter's stuffed animal's birthdays, there was just so many. It’s what he gets for buying her another one every week. He set reminders on his phone to make sure he never forgets....but this time…he forgot.

It's not his fault, he’s a busy guy!

"Forgive me d/nnnnn!", he pleaded whilst clasping his hands together.

The little girl covered her ears with her hands cutely and closed her eyes, mumbling a string of 'lala's'. "I can't hear papa!".

You chuckled at her antics. "I can't seem to hear papa either", you quipped.

Gojo felt the betrayal deep within his soul. His two favourite girls were giving him the silent treatment.

"Not you too!", he looked at you with a frown. If Gojo were a dog, his ears would definitely be droopy right now.

Jokes on you guys, he came prepared.

"Aw, I guess i'll have to eat this cake aaaaaall by myself", he faked a sad expression and spun the cake around, giving you two a full glimpse of the delicious dessert.

You wouldn't put it past him either, he would definitely finish the whole cake by himself.

"Maybe I can hear papa a little bit", the little girl couldn't help the endearing smile tugging at the sides of her lips.

You shook your head at Gojo's little bribery trick as you placed two pink bows onto her hair.

"Only a little bit?", he tilted his head.

"A lot bit!", she giggled and extended her arms out to Gojo who gladly carried her in one hand and held the cake in the other.

Gojo looked at you as you leaned back against the counter.

"And what about you?".

"Toru, half of the time I hear you before I'm able to see you, and that’s not a compliment".

He scrunched up his face. "You could've said something cute like I always hear you Toru, I love you!".

"Yuck", you grimaced jokingly.

"Yuck!", the little girl spat her tongue despite not knowing exactly what was going on.

masterlist :)

[spitdrunken]

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ��cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 10

Just a reminder no posting next week, as I have to recover from the holidays and all the fics I wrote.

Eddie throws a homecoming party and friends get hella pushy, so both Steve and Eddie push back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Pt 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

The next night Eddie threw a coming home party and invited all the people Steve had hired, the D&D boys (Mike and Dustin), and even let Steve bring Robin as his plus one.

As Steve walked in with Robin, he instantly spotted three men he didn’t know. The broad-chested black man was talking to Charles in one corner of the room, while the other two, a heavy set man and a short, curly haired man was talking to Dustin. And judging from how animated they were getting, Steve was gonna bet they were talking about D&D.

He had even had a chance to look for their host, when Eddie came bounding up to them with a big grin on his face.

“Stevie!” he greeted warmly. “You made it! Everyone else is here at the ball, Cinderella. Come, come meet my friends.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him over to the two talking with Dustin first. “This is Bri-guy and Gare-bear!”

Steve laughed and shook their hands. “I’m the nanny.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “He’s much more than that, he’s an amazing cook and the girls love him.”

“I’m Brian and this Gareth,” Brian said shaking his head. “And we know all about you. This idiot wouldn’t stop talking about the an–”

Eddie slapped his hand over Brian’s mouth and grinned brightly at Steve. “I think that’s about enough of these two, don’cha think?”

Robin got a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Not at all. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Robin, the best friend and platonic soulmate of Steve. We’ve been friends for ages. How long have you known Eddie?”

Gareth grinned at her, sensing a partner in crime. “Oh ages. We all went to high school together. I’m not the original drummer and Bri isn’t the original bassist, but we’re the lightning in the bottle that made Corroded Coffin what it is today.”

Eddie dropped his hand from Brian’s mouth to put his hands on his hips. “How dare!”

Brian and Gareth cackled. And suddenly they were joined but whom Steve assumed was the final member of Corroded Coffin, Jeff Lawrence.

“Are we all picking on Eddie?” he asked gleefully.

“No!” Eddie and Steve cried at the same time the other three cried, “Yes!”

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Ooh! I like her! Jeff, the better guitarist of Corroded Coffin and its lead singer.”

Eddie pushed Jeff. “Oh get out. Only for the last album when we were trying something different. It was not something the fans liked. Asshole.”

“I’ve got to tease you, man,” Jeff huffed with a grin. “It’s so easy!”

“This is Jeffy,” Eddie groused, folding his arms like a scolded toddler. “Meet Steve and Robin.”

“Nice to put a name to the faces,” Jeff said with a charming grin. “Eddie talked all about Steve so Robin’s name came up a lot.”

Steve blushed, but Robin grinned.

“Glad to hear I made it to the dispatch notes,” she said, then turned to Eddie. “I’ve got to say, I really love this house. It looks like it stepped out of pages of a gothic horror film. It’s awesome!”

Eddie took a bow. “Why thank you, my lady!” He looked around his house proudly. “That was the look I was going for. I can’t stand all this sterile white, grey, and beige bullshit that is in vogue right now. Give me color and character!”

“Have you seen what Steve’s done to his room yet?” Robin asked cheerfully, knowing full well what she was insinuating.

Eddie flushed a bright pink, shoving his hair in face to hide the blush and Steve stared at her in wide-eye, slack-jawed shock.

“Robin!” he hissed, flapping his hands at her in embarrassment and dismay.

She grinned at him unrepentantly, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back to see what Eddie would say.

“I–I um...” he coughed. “I haven’t had the opportunity to see how Steve spruced up the place, no.”

“Robin,” Steve said low and deep in warning. “Eddie hasn’t had a reason to see my rooms yet as he’s only been home for thirty-six hours.”

Robin just batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “I would have thought he would have wanted to see what you did to the rooms he’s letting you use in his house.”

The other three members of the band were falling over each other, just cackling over this exchange. Steve was red from the tips of his ears all the way down the dip in his collar. Eddie’s mind tried to follow the thought of how much further the blush went. He didn’t have to think about it long as Steve grabbed Robin and hauled her off elsewhere.

He turned to his friends. “Oh shut it. Assholes.”

“Dude,” Jeff said breathlessly clutching his sides, “like that was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever witnessed and that includes the time Gareth tried to hit on the supermodel that last Grammy’s.”

“Hey!” Gareth huffed. “I got a date out of that, I’ll have you know!”

Brian put his arm around Gareth’s shoulder. “After I told her that you weren’t as big an ass as that interaction displayed. She was going to lose your number, man.”

Gareth folded his arms and pouted. “I hate you both.”

“But seriously, Ed,” Jeff said turning his attention back to Eddie who had been trying to slip away from them before they noticed he was gone.

He failed.

“It’s obvious he has the hots for you,” Jeff continued, “so why aren’t you tapping that ass? You wouldn’t shut up about him the whole time we were on tour. It was actually kinda annoying.”

“For real,” Brian agreed. “And please I don’t want to hear how you’re not ready to get out there again after Ethan left, or how you’re paying him to look after you girls because I’ve seen him with them and holy shit they adore him.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “Guys, I haven’t been home for forty-eight hours yet. Can you not try and hook me up with my daughters’ nanny for fuck sake?” He peered around Jeff, making sure Steve was out of earshot. “I don’t really know him yet. Yes, we talked a lot about everything during the tour but I haven’t had to live with him under my roof yet. I could hate the way he takes three showers a day or whatever.”

Jeff and Brian shared an exasperated look as Brian threw his hands in the air. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back on one leg. “That maybe if me and Ethan had lived together before we got married, maybe the marriage wouldn’t have blown up like it did.”

It was a small and simple “Oh,” from Jeff, but it encapsulated all the feelings of the three other members of Corroded Coffin.

“Shit,” Gareth hissed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed but we just wanted you to be happy. And you light up around Steve in a way I haven’t seen you do in years.”

“What would you know?” Eddie spat bitterly. He looked around at all of them. “What would any of you know? You scattered like kids around a broken window the second the band broke up. And where were you when Ethan left? Or when Wayne broke his leg? I appreciated the tour, it really helped me prioritize things. But you don’t get to come into my house and act like you’ve been there the whole fucking time when you haven’t.”

Eddie stormed off, leaving the three of them there with shocked expressions.

“Shit,” Jeff said, hissing out a pained breath. “He’s right. Fuck. He’s right. We should have flown out the second he told us about Ethan. But we kept putting it off until the deal about the tour came around and then suddenly we were interested in his life only when it benefited us.”

Gareth ran his hands down his face and rolled his eyes skyward. “Fuck. What kind of friends have we been? Like we’re all rich enough that hopping on a plane wouldn���t have even dented our fortunes at all. We should have been for the messy divorce and been helping take care of the girls. But what were we even doing that couldn’t have been put on hold?”

“I was the closest,” Jeff huffed. “I was in New York. Hell, I could driven down. But little shit just kept cropping up. Miranda’s health scare. Then she got pregnant and lost the baby. Which were important at the time, but Eddie needed me.”

“I don’t have any excuse,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Because yeah, I was on the otherside of the world, but Eddie would have flown around the world a dozen times for me, but I couldn’t fly half way.”

Brian’s lip quivered. “My mom got cancer around the time, but I don’t think she would have begrudged me flying out to see Eddie. But I didn’t even give it a second thought.”

Jeff looked around the room for Eddie and spotted him standing next to Steve. Robin wandered off, leaving Steve sitting on a table, ankles crossed, swinging them back and forth, drink in hand as he listened to some story Eddie was telling him.

Jeff continued to watch as Eddie must have said something funny, because Steve threw head back and laughed.

“I think I see the silver lining to our neglect, boys,” he murmured, pointing out the tableau before them.

The other two men turned and looked. Steve was nodding vigorously, big smile on his face as he told his own story to Eddie.

“Because if we had been here to help Eddie around the house,” Jeff continued, “then he wouldn’t have gotten so desperate to hire a male nanny. Yeah, we fucked up. We pushed too hard. But damn boys, look at what grew in that barren wasteland, anyway.”

“So it’s settled,” Brian said, “we’re all staying in Indy to help Eddie and Steve get together, right?”

Gareth nodded. “Damn straight we are. Plus those kids Steve found to play D&D, I’d stick around just to see their style.”

“Looks like Operation: Refriend Eddie is a go, boys,” Jeff said excitedly, putting his arms around both of his friends. “And maybe we’ll get a wedding out of this, too.”

~

Steve had given Robin a good talking to. Like maybe don’t proposition his boss on his behalf before the sheets had even had time to warm up, yeah?

It took some proper talking to her to before she relented and apologized. Then stomped off to find some real booze. Steve knew she was going to raid Eddie’s liquor cabinet, but considering most of it was already out, he didn’t figure Eddie would mind too much.

Then a glass of whiskey was being dangled in front of him. He looked up to see Eddie smiling down at him. Steve took the glass with a murmur of thanks.

“Here’s to interfering best friends!” Steve said raising his glass to Eddie’s.

Eddie clinked their glasses together with wary smile. “I just wish they had been around more before they started interfering in my business. They weren’t around to pick up the pieces, so they don’t get to decide when to change puzzles.”

“Here’s to that.” Steve took a drink. “Robin is just trying to make sure I’m happy and she knows how much I love this place.” He shook his head. “I’m content with being the Au Pair Boy. I don’t need anything else.”

“You are much more than that,” Eddie said fiercely. “My girls love you. You’re special, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I promise.” Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I love those little girls too.”

“Don’t look now,” Eddie said with a grin, “but I think our friends are spying on us.”

Steve took a drink of his whiskey and looked up through his eyelashes and sure enough the Corroded Coffin boys and Robin were all looking over at them, trying to look they weren’t.

“Quick, laugh!” Eddie said and Steve burst out laughing genuinely. “Oh, that was perfect. Good job.”

“Learning the art of actually laughing when you’re supposed to be fake laughing,” Steve said warmly, “is a skill taught to the children of socialites like my mother from birth.”

“I wish they gave you a crash course when you become famous,” Eddie said with a weary smile, “because holy shit it’s like being dumped in a shark tank!”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Yeah, they should teach classes and stuff.”

“Annoying best friends aside,” Eddie murmured. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Steve looked up into his eyes and smiled fondly. “I am too.”

~

Part 11 Part 12

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[fictionalwh0ree]

Hi! May I please make a Billie request where Billie realizes she has a crush on her best friend and starts acting nervous and shy around her, and Billie decides to go live one day and fans are asking about reader since she's usually always around and Bil's like "guys she makes me nervous cause I think she's super pretty" and basically admits her crush? Thank you 🥹🤗

cocktail night- billie eilish

summary: you and billie became fast friends, but the celebrity lifestyle sometimes interferes with your plans. you two finally have a free night and decide to have a cocktail night. with alcohol flowing through her veins, billie can't help but confess her crush on you to the world.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol/drinking, mild swearing

billie eilish was easily your favourite person in the world. despite having met only eight months ago, you guys had developed a bond unlike any other, spending any free time either of you had with each other. you knew you could spend every waking moment with her, and if you could, you definitely would. however, the celebrity lifestyles often clashed and while there were weeks were you could spend every day with each other, there were times where weeks would go by and you wouldn’t see each other. now was one of those dry spells where you hadn’t seen each other in about two weeks. you planned a little cocktail night together when you were both free. the idea had been your suggestion as the last couple of times you had seen your best friend, she had been acting strange. she was flustered and more quiet than usual. you blew it off as some weird way of coping with the stress and work that goes into writing and producing a new album, but thought that a couple cocktails might help loosen her up a little bit.

finally, the night arrived. you unlocked her door with the spare key she had given you and were immediately greeted by shark, who barked excitedly at seeing you. you bent down to pet him as billie ran down the stairs to meet you. with almost as much excitement as her puppy, she wrapped her arms around you in a hug while a large smile adorned her face. once she pulled away, you followed her to the kitchen.

“soooo, whats new?” she asked you.

“billie, we were on call just before i left the house,” you laughed before stuffing a couple chips in your mouth.

“but actually, this guy cut me off when i was driving and the guy behind me honked at me. i was so annoyed. the only thing that got me through the drive was reminding myself i would be drinking soon,” you vented.

“the thought of seeing me wasn’t enough to get you through the drive?” she joked, placing her hands over her heart dramatically.

“nope,” you smiled.

she kissed her teeth and looked away in fake annoyance, but the large smile on her face gave it away. she looked back over at you, your eyes locking, but only for a moment before hers dropped to the ground.

“i did miss you though, for real,” you affirmed.

“i missed you too,” she said.

“stop being so busy all the time,” billie joked.

“says you,” you laughed.

“you know, i think it would save you a lot of time if you had a muse to write about,” you joked, snagging a couple more chips.

“oh really? and who should my muse be?” she said, raising her eyebrow.

“me, duh,” you smiled.

“you’re already my muse,” she said, sending an exaggerated wink your way.

“aww, shut the fuck up,” you said, shoving her playfully.

“okay, come on lets get to drinking,” billie said, switching the subject.

you nodded in accordance and the two of you worked together, gathering everything you would need. as you prepared your cocktails, you downed a couple of shots each, leaving your prepared drinks, which were supposed to be somewhat aesthetic, a very ugly and delicious hot mess. you took your drinks into the living room and billie put on a movie. the two of you were already tipsy before having even taken a sip of your cocktail, and the movie had become background noise amongst your lively conversation.

before long, the two of you decided it was time to change into something more comfortable. thankfully, you had come prepared with matching christmas pj pants which you had bought earlier in the day. you told her to stay in her place, and she waited eagerly for you as you retrieved your bag. you pulled them out with a ‘ta da.’ she matched your energy, shrieking in excitement. she ran upstairs to get changed and as did you. once you were ready, you met her back in the living room, about to sit on the couch before the alcohol finally got to your bladder.

“i’m gonna go use the washroom quickly,” you told her.

she nodded, fidgeting with her phone. little did you know, she was going on live. the alcohol in her system making it seem like a good way to share your matching pyjama pants. she turned it on and within seconds, hundreds of thousands of people had joined. her live had just barely caught the end of your sentence, leading her fans to question where you were. the comments became flooded with comments along the lines of “is that y/n?” and “where’s y/n?”.

“yes guys, it is y/n,” billie smiled, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks as she slurred her words slightly.

“i came on here to show you guys our matching pj pants but she went to the washroom,” she continued.

her fans quickly picked up on the fact that she had been drinking and they had noticed the blush that got stronger with your mention.

“ouuuu she’s blushing,” one comment said.

“her cheeks r so red rn,” another one read.

“guyssss,” billie whined.

“who’s got you blushing like that 👀 👀” someone commented.

billie read it, mumbling the words slightly, before giggling.

“guys if i tell you this you can’t tell anyone okay?” she smiled, multiple fans agreeing and promising.

“y/n makes me nervous cause i think she's super pretty,” she confessed, giggling like a schoolgirl and throwing her phone. she shrieked into a nearby pillow, not fully recognizing what she had done. she picked up her phone hastily when she heard the bathroom door open. the comments were flooded with excitement and support from her fans, and of course, a lot of teasing as well.

“shhhhh, she’s coming back. remember the promise,” she said, turning back to see you a couple feet from the couch.

“what’re you up to?” you said skeptically.

“nothing,” she said innocently, widening her eyes at the camera to remind them to stay quiet.

“uh huh,” you laughed.

“i went on live to show everyone our matching pyjamas,” she said.

“well show them then,” you said.

she set her phone down against her empty cocktail glass and got up, standing next to you.

the two of you backed up until the camera captured you two fully donning your matching pants and white tank tops. she ran back to her phone and sat on the couch.

“why are you acting funny?” you smiled at her, tilting your head.

“i’m not,” she laughed.

“okay billie,” you laughed back.

you sat down next to her, setting your head down on her shoulder, causing her to blush again.

“my parents 😫😫😫,” someone commented.

“this is too cute,” another one read.

“billie u need to tell her,” one said.

“what’s up with your comments?” you asked billie, looking up at her.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking away.

you shook your head and looked back at the screen.

“billie said you made her nervous because she thinks you’re REALLY pretty,” a comment read.

you barely caught it as billie pulled the phone up above your face.

“you guys are snitches byeee” she said, ending the live hastily.

you sat up straight, looking at her in the eyes.

“i caught that, y’know?” you said.

“they weren’t supposed to say anything,” billie mumbled, a shy smile playing on her lips as her eyes locked on the couch cushion below her.

you laughed softly.

“so whats this about?” you asked gently, trying to coax her attention back to you.

“you read the comment,” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“say it,” you said, lifting her chin with your fingers, “tell me.”

she took a moment to meet your eyes, your faces now only inches apart as you leaned forward.

“i think you’re really pretty,” she whispered, “and i think i might like you, in more than a friend way.”

you finally leaned forward, linking your lips in a tender kiss. she leaned towards you and you leaned back until you were barely upright against the armrest. she pulled away for a moment, looking at you with a cheesy smile.

“you’re so stupid, y’know that?”

[puppyluvfics]

NSFW Alphabet | Lee Jooyeon

Lee Jooyeon | WC: 2k Genre: smut Summary: nsfw alphabet game thing Warnings: this is just. PURE filth. I'm sorry. (No im not). NOT proofread, just straight up rambles. as always, fem/afab body mentions, public play, lemme know if i missed something!! A/N: X is excluded bc i will Not be writing about him in that kind of detail <3 two thousand words... yall i rly lost my damn mind on this one... and that's AFTER i had to stop myself from rambling more... being joo/seumi biased is so. hard.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He does NOT know where he is, I’m sorry. All he knows is the aftershocks and sensitivity, his cock still throbbing, probably still inside you, if we’re being honest. He’s the type to pull you close to him and stay inside you, not wanting to 1. Leave you empty and 2. Stop feeling you around him, wet and warm. As much as he’d like to vocalize praise, the best he could do would be growly little pants and whines, letting his head fall backwards and his hair stick to his forehead with sweat, his eyes doing most of the talking.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Fingers. That’s it, that’s the whole answer. No, I’m kidding. But seriously,,, you already know he loves to watch his fingers disappear inside you, curling up in little waves, or putting his fingers in your mouth when you ride him… 

On his partner… everyone says he’s a boob man, or a munch, and while I AGREE! I think his favorite part on his partner would be their lips… maybe I’m projecting my own desires here but is he not the type to love to feel you suck hickeys onto his neck? The kind of guy who’d grab a fist full of your hair and guide your lips wherever he wanted, teasing himself with your mouth until you wrapped your lips around him where he wanted you most? Yeah.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I can’t see him being into cum play, honestly. BUT! I will say… it’s going inside you, one way or another. Either in your mouth (where he’ll make you prove you swallowed) or in you the other way where he’d keep fucking it into you as he rode it out… yeah.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Now… bear with me on this… I can’t stop thinking about how he probably owns a fleshlight… how his hand isn’t enough to get himself off sometimes so he needs something that reminds him of how good it feels to have his cock inside you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Inexperienced enough to still be in the stages of coming a little too quickly, just because he can’t control himself, but he knows what he’s doing… there’s no way he doesn’t. He knows how to hold your hips down while he thrusts into you, leaving small bruises from his grip strength. His pace isn’t super steady yet, but honestly, it just serves to tease you more… you’d beg for him to fuck you harder and faster and he’d try… and he’d succeed when you least expect it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can see your face, really. Missionary, cowgirl, all the basic ones, but they’re so much more than basic to him. He loves watching you gasp out and moan when he fucks you, getting needier every time your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open, going faster every time you bite your lip and whine from how deep he feels.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s goofy but never during sex… always before or after. He’s so the type to say things like “I made it clap” or give you playful spanks and bites.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Simple, as always, but hear me out on this. I think he’s all natural. Obviously well groomed, but… all natural. And we loveeee to see it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I’m not gonna call it not intimate, but it’s not rose petals and lace romantic. He loves to mark you as his, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over you - some where only the two of you can see, but some where everyone can see. The act of letting him mark you and knowing he doesn’t have to hold back in doing so is so intimate for him, it makes him… feral?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

LISTEN. Listen to me. Stay with me on this. He stands up. Just. LISTEN!!!! Holding himself up with one hand pressed against the wall or leaning back so that if he stumbles backwards, the wall or his bed behind him would break his fall… but. The way his hair would fall around his face as he moved his hand, soft little grunts and groans falling from his lips… the way he’d come on himself and gasp out shakily… someone sedate me please… one day I’ll expand on this… I am not strong enough right now.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking!! Dare I even go so far as to include collaring and that kind of power play? Not necessarily with any specifics of pet play or anything in that realm of labels, but owning you, in a way. Of course, he’d not only accept your autonomy but encourage it but during sex… you might as well turn your brain off because you’re his. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I can see him being into experimenting with public stuff but only teasing… he’s not gonna pull his cock out anywhere but he’d happily grab your ass, give you a couple playful spanks, maybe wrap his hand around your throat for the briefest of moments when you were alone…

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

So marking, right? Seeing the remnants of that will always be a turn on for him. Be it the little bruises he’d left on your hips or thighs, the hickeys he’d left on your neck and collarbone… the memories would come flooding back and would make him need to mark you more.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

You know… I can’t imagine he’d be into impact play outside of spanking. Marking is one thing but hitting you feels like… too much for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Everyone give it up for our resident munch!! Pussy for breakfast lunch and dinner! AND!!! Getting his hair pulled a little when he eats you out… that would only make him go faster. BUT I will also say… he is so the type to love getting head just as much. 69? Invented for him. What’s better than feeling your mouth around his cock while you sit on his face?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what he’s doing… sex can be both, but is more fast paced and needy, giving you head is slow and teasing at first before he really gets lost in it all, as if he can’t get enough of you. Foreplay? Slow, I would say. Like he’d take his sweet time licking your neck and sucking hickeys onto you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies aren’t his favorite thing but he’ll never say no, especially if the quickie just included him dropping to his knees, pulling one of your legs over his shoulders, reaching up to tease you and eating you out at the same time. Conversely, he’d be down to get head from you as a quickie too, especially if you had been teasing him but you both weren’t feeling like going through the entire motions of sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes but also no… I think he’d be very much into talk of it where he’d be super into the idea of of some things, and just discussing him would get him hard, but then some post nut clarity would hit and he would realize that there are some things he’d try with you, but mostly, he just wants you. The one thing in the back of my mind with this is wax play specifically… because he seems the type to get hard talking about dripping wax on you and watching you squirm but when you’d light a candle (just in general) he’d look at it and think about it and realize that… maybe not. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as he hasn’t been touched, he can go for a while… he could lay between your legs and eat you out until you physically couldn’t come anymore. But once you touch him? It’s already the beginning of the end. He’d get so needy at your touch, needing to be inside you and fucking into you. It’s not that he comes embarrassingly fast, he can keep going for a while (like twenty minutes, at max), but he’s done after one round… he gives it his all. That isn’t to say that round two couldn’t come later, but it would be a few hours, at least.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Listen. I talk about this in the wildcard one so go look at that but that specific thing aside, I think he’d be into teasing you with vibrators for sure. Though, he’s a cocky lil thing… nothing but his cock goes inside you because he knows how to make you feel much better than a toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Is this even a question? He is THE tease. He invented teasing. Edging you with his tongue… daring to tempt you with his fingers only to not even put them in you, leaving you clenching around nothing just to hear you whine and beg for him. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

As much as I would love him to be loud… he just isn’t. Well, he is but he isn’t. He’s not going to be screaming and moaning so loud that the whole world could hear him, but he’s for sure not silent. Grunting and whining and moaning out enough for you to hear, and maybe people through the wall if he was needy enough for you that he couldn’t hold back.

W = Wild card (a random headcannon for the character)

Oh my god, listen to me. Maybe I’m projecting on insane levels right now but listen. Tell me he wouldn’t LOVE those bluetooth vibrators that he could control with his phone… going out with you on a really long date, teasing you for hours… the way he’d “accidentally” turn it all the way up when you’d be on your tiptoes grabbing something high up… the way he’d just play with it and move it up and down and watch you have the briefest of moments of relief before teasing you again. BONUS!!! Turning it on high and leaving it on high the entire drive home… challenging you not to come before you get there… ohhh my god someone needs to throw me into the grand canyon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

On a scale of 1 to 10… I’m putting him at a 7… he can function like a normal person, but god when he wants it… he wants it. He’d never pressure you for sex, but he’s absolutely not shy about asking for it when he wants it. He knows it’s not a need, even when it feels like one - like he knows he can jack off if you’re not in the mood but come on… he’d get hard at you just settling into his lap, of course he’d ask if you wanted to do something about the boner you just gave him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It it weren’t for the fact that cleanup was necessary, he’d be out immediately. His eyes would be half lidded and he’d doze off for a few seconds after he came, but he’d always force himself to stay awake long enough to clean up and make sure you’re feeling good too.

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 5

A/N: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! I REPEAT: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! Muah muah <3 I feel so loved rn. So Ima love y’all back with an even longer chapter >:D Would’ve gotten this out much earlier, but I’m currently studying for one of the most important exams of my life!! Sorry about the delay. That exam is coming up, so I'll have a lot more time to get these chapters out sooner. I hope y’all enjoy

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 8.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vi’s soreness woke her up the following day. Her head was pounding, her neck was stiff, and some of her bruises hurt more than she was used to. She blamed the lack of alcohol in her system for feeling this kind of physical pain, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she sat up. It took her a moment to remember how the fight went, causing her shoulders to slump. She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling anger bubbling in her veins. When she swung her legs out of bed, she knocked the plastic cup of water over. 

“Son of a…” she grumbled, seeing the liquid spread on her floor. She left it there, angry at herself for placing a cup of water on the floor in the first place. 

The first thing she did after leaving her bed was to beat the hell out of her punching bag. Her body begged her to relax, but she ignored its warnings. The exhaustion won anyways, making her punches sloppy. The smacks of the punching bag didn’t ring in her apartment like they always did. This pissed her off even more. She yelled in frustration, now pacing her apartment like a caged lion. 

She sat back down on her bed, cringing a bit for stepping in the water with her socks on. She then stared at the floor as her leg bounced.

Being the crowned champion of The Pit was all that she had. That was one of the biggest things that made her proud of what she does best. She knows that she let a lot of people down for not winning. That’s all she ever does: Let people down. Maybe that’s what she actually does best.

Vi sighs and runs a hand through her oil-colored hair, then holds her head in her hands as she stares at the floor. Looking down made her headache worse, but she felt like she deserved this pain for freezing in the arena. 

Her eyes tracked the fallen cup ahead of her. She reached over and picked it up, looking into it. She brought it to her lips and tapped the bottom of it, only getting the one drop that didn’t spill out into her dry mouth. As if it was some sort of potion, the thoughts about losing the fight came to a halt. There was a feeling of anxiety in her chest as she remembered how nasty her attitude was with you. 

“Fuck.” She whispered, putting a palm to her face. God, she felt horrible. She gripped a lock of her hair in frustration. She knew that you didn’t deserve all that bullshit from her.

There was a soft knock on her apartment door.

“Fuck off, rent isn’t even due for another few weeks!” She yells out. When there’s another knock, she huffs in annoyance and goes to her door. She opens it, her nose wrinkled, “What the f— oh,” she calms down, “Loris. Didn’t expect you to show up this early.”

She lets him in before going back to sit on her bed. He looks around briefly, noting that there are in fact less empty bottles laying around. 

“I just wanted to see how you’ve been holding up,” he puts his hands in his pockets, “It was a pretty rough night, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve reminded myself of that a million times before you showed up,” she sighs, her head drooping, “I still can’t believe I let some doped up cheaters beat me. It’s not like it’s the first time I fought someone under the influence of shimmer.”

Loris takes a few steps towards her, then pauses when he steps in the puddle. He looks down at it, then back at Vi. She was still holding the cup. Vi takes notice of the little scene, and she sighs again with a remorseful look on her face. 

“There are so many varieties of shimmer out there nowadays. Who knows what that formula had in it?” He steps back, removing his foot from the puddle of water beneath him.

“I was an asshole to her, wasn’t I?” she mumbles, looking at the empty cup in her hands. Loris stays quiet for a moment, averting his gaze. “Wasn’t I?” Vi repeats, clutching the cup hard enough for it to bend.

“You were,” Loris finally says, his voice even. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, her thumb rubbing the edge of the warped plastic cup. “I guess it’s what I do best, huh? Screw things up so bad that people end up leaving me for it.”

Loris leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re good at a lot of things, Vi, but self-pity shouldn’t be one of them.”

She shoots him a sharp glare but says nothing. The silence that stretches between them feels heavier than her sore muscles, and for once, she doesn’t try to fill it with anger. Instead, she stares at the cup in her hands as if it holds all the answers she doesn’t want to face.

“Apologies go a long way, you know. I really think you two can talk it out.” Loris says after a moment.

Vi scoffs, but it lacks her usual fire. “Yeah, because a half-assed ‘sorry’ is going to fix everything.”

“It’s a start,” Loris counters, “She doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of your bad night.”

Vi huffs, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth twitches upward for just a second. “Do you know where she lives?”

Loris shakes his head, “Sorry, Vi. I wish I knew.”

Vi lets out a frustrated sigh, resting her forehead against the kinked plastic cup. “It’s probably too late anyways. There’s no way that someone like her would want to stick around after I’ve been a piece of shit to her not once, but twice.” She curses under her breath, dejected.

Loris, concealing a smile, crosses his arms. “Why do you care so much about this situation anyways? Isn’t she just some random person? Forget about her. People come and go, as you’re very familiar with. After all, you don’t know her and she doesn’t know you.”

Vi is quick to give him a look between being shocked and angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you kick me while I’m already down?” Then, her expression becomes more confused, as if she doesn’t exactly know why you matter to her either. She stands up slowly, her bed creaking. “...I just feel like she might understand me. Talking with her the other night– the night that you bailed on me, by the way– left me feeling like I had someone to relate to.” She stacks the cup with the other two nearby.

Loris raises one of his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn into a victorious smile. 

“Then I had to fuck it all up,” Vi continues, “Please, Loris. Will you help me find her? I don’t– I can’t forgive myself if I never make it up to her. You’re right: she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my stupid tantrum. And she seems like she…” Vi recalls a deep pain within your (e/c) eyes during all the times you two have spoken, “...She seems like she could really use a friend.”

The man nods his head, finally letting himself smile, “Sure, if it means you’ll give yourself some time to recover before getting back to your gigs.” He steps out of her apartment.

Vi grabs her black jacket on her way out, her movements sluggish but purposeful. As she glances back at Loris, he gives her a small nod of encouragement. The two of them split up to look for you.

*

As usual, you were being a hermit in your bedroom. You didn’t sleep a wink last night because you were too consumed by the disappointment over everything that happened yesterday. Your shoulders ache from how tightly you’ve been holding them, and your stomach twists every time her face flashes in your head and her words echo in your ears. You press your palms against your temples, willing yourself to relax, but it’s no use.

Everything was on loop in your mind, her sharp words replaying like a broken record. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.” Each time, it stung a little more, making your fingers curl tightly into fists around your unkempt hair. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were angry with—her or yourself.

‘Ugh, why do I even care this much?’ you angrily think. 

Here’s the thing: You were hoping to begin a new chapter in your life starting with making a friend out of Vi. The idea of waking up and looking forward to spending every day with a new friend was deliciously desirable. You thought that this journey after being fresh out of a relationship would come much easier since Vi was presumably going through the same thing. You had it right there! A much needed blank slate. A new best friend on a silver platter. At least, that’s what it looked like to you.

You hated that you even spoke to Vi in the first place. It would have been so much better for you if you were just another person in the audience, collecting winnings and living a decent life through the bets. It would have been much easier if Vi was someone whose only meaning to you was a cash cow. You hated yourself for getting your own hopes up. You hated yourself for not seeing that Vi’s friendship was too good to be true.

Vi being the only reason you have something to take you away from the hellfire of your thoughts was something you didn’t realize you needed. Gosh, you needed it. You need her to distract you from it all. Talking to her about your situation, even if it was just for that one moment, was liberating. And here you are, feeling like you were pushed back into a cage.

You wrinkle your nose in anger. ‘Why did she have to play with me like that, then? Why did she get my hopes up about seeing her again?’ 

Your face then softens, suddenly feeling bad for getting upset at Vi. 

It was too easy to blame yourself. It was comfortable to blame yourself. You felt selfish for even being upset about this whole ordeal. You wanted to be mad at Vi, but it felt too self-centered. 

‘You only have yourself to blame, so blame yourself. Do you really think that someone showing you an ounce of sympathy is a sign that they are meant to be your friend? Your self respect was already crushed into dust, and somehow you made it become even worse than that.’ You sniffle, but stop your tears immediately. It makes no sense crying over Vi. You already have that spot taken by someone else. Vi, on the other hand, is someone you do not know a damn thing about. 

To you, she is a heartbroken fighter who drinks alcohol as a hobby. So what else is there to her?

You sigh, dragging your hands down your face as you try to stop the storm in your head from raging on. The rational part of you knows it’s ridiculous to spiral like this over someone you’ve only spoken to a few times. But the other part—the louder part—is shouting that it all meant something, that Vi was supposed to be the start of something new, something good.

Instead, you’re stuck here, reeling from what felt like rejection. You glance at the clock on your wall. It’s almost noon, and you haven’t even stepped out of your room. Your apartment feels stuffy, like the walls are closing in on you. The bed creaks as you stand up, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at the floor, wondering if you should bother leaving the house or just let the day waste away.

‘Maybe some air will clear my head,’ you think. Or maybe it’ll just give you more room to stew over everything.

As tempted as you were to take all your cogs and soothe yourself by buying things, you knew that being stingy is going to save you for now. An idea suddenly popped into your head, but you were not too happy about it. 

You step into your little closet, shifting through articles of clothing you have. A large chunk of your belongings were gifts from your ex. You sigh, grabbing a beautiful (f/c) shirt. 

You had been here in your apartment, and your partner was absent for nearly the whole day. When they finally came home, they brought you that blouse and claimed that they bought it from a vendor in Piltover. You happily accepted it despite the smell of perfume lingering on the skin that you kissed in appreciation. 

Everyone in Zaun knows how hard it is to come across nice things like this shirt, especially items from Piltover. You were too scared to wear that blouse in public because you were worried about getting it dirty or having it torn off your back. The only times you were able to appreciate it on your body was when you were out and about with your partner and their friends. After all, nobody would dare touch the girl of a shimmer lord on the rise. 

You bring a finger to your mouth, tempted to bite your nail. You really did not want to get rid of some of your stuff. You owned a lot of nice things! You groan in frustration, lightly tapping yourself on your cheek to remind yourself that this is a desperate time.

So then you start clearing out your closet. You left yourself with clothes that would not make you that big of a target to rob in the streets. You stuffed the clothes into a bag that luckily wasn’t heavy enough to make you carry it like some giant snail. For protection, you grabbed a switchblade that you kept hidden under your mattress.

When you left your apartment complex, your anxiousness was heightened. You stayed as vigilant as you could, taking only routes that you knew were less populated than others. Each step felt heavier than the last, your grip tightening on the strap of the bag as if it were your lifeline. The streets of Zaun were quieter in these parts, but even the occasional glance from a passerby sent your heart racing. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every corner held the potential for trouble.

Your other hand brushed against your concealed switchblade, fingers brushing against its cool, reassuring surface. This wasn’t your first time walking these streets alone, but somehow, it felt different now. More vulnerable. You didn’t have a pack of people with you, nor do you think you look intimidating enough for people to leave you alone.

Most people in Zaun knew how to fight defensively, including yourself. But you would feel a lot more secure if you had Vi’s fists and her courage. You almost felt envious at the thought that she can walk wherever she wants to in Zaun and come out of every conflict without a bruise. You wished that you didn’t have to flinch at every sudden noise. 

‘Good for her, I guess.’ You think. 

You walked past an alleyway, spotting the silhouettes of two Zaunites in a heated embrace. You roll your eyes and keep walking.

As you walked, the weight of the bag on your shoulder felt less like a collection of clothes and more like a physical burden to carry. There were memories stitched into every seam, moments you wished you could hold onto and ones you wanted to forget, all bundled together and ready to be discarded.

‘Fucking hell! It’s just useless stuff!’ you tell yourself.

That nice shirt you almost kept wasn’t just a shirt—it was a promise you’d let yourself believe in. A promise that someone cared enough to bring you a piece of a better life, even if it reeked of a lie.

The irony of it all hit you as you passed an old, crumbling building with boarded-up windows. Here you were, clinging to fragments of a life that was never as stable as you wanted it to be, walking through a city that never stopped reminding you of how quickly things fall apart. Maybe this was just the way of Zaun—everything temporary, everything borrowed. As temporary as romantic relationships. As borrowed as precious time invested into a friendship that would never bloom.

You glance around at the passersby, wondering who might be willing to cough up a few cogs for some quality clothing. Selling these clothes felt like ripping off a layer of yourself, but desperation made the decision for you. 

You drop the bag to your feet, grabbing the first shirt on the top. You contemplate putting it back in your bag since it was a favorite of yours, but you fight your urge.

“Any takers?” you announce, feigning confidence despite the pit in your stomach.

With each passing minute, your chest tightened. Would anyone even stop to look? Or worse: would someone take one look at you and try to snatch it all away? You sigh gently and wonder if you just made yourself a target. Paranoia about being tagged and robbed some other time might haunt you for a little while after this.

A wiry woman approached, her eyes darting to the shirt in your hands. "Nice fabrics you got," she muttered, fingers twitching at her side, "I’ll give you five cogs for it."

You clenched the fabric a little tighter, your lips pressing into a line, "Five? This is worth at least forty."

The lady sneered. "Forty?" she laughed, “You think anybody just has forty cogs on them, girl?”  She stepped closer, her voice low and threatening. "Take the five, or you’ll end up with nothing.” Her eyes dart to the bag at your feet. You fight the urge to scoff at her bluff– you’ve seen much better intimidation tactics.

 "Look, I know how this works. But this isn’t just some scrap—I know the quality, and so do you. Ten cogs, and it’s yours.” You keep a steady voice, kicking the bag behind you so it’s against the wall. Just a precaution.

The woman snorted, crossing her arms, "You think I’m some kind of idiot? I can get something like that off a pile for six at best."

"Then go find it," you shot back, refusing to back down, "You won’t get this kind of stitching in Zaun unless it’s straight from Piltover. Ten’s a steal, and you know it."

"Eight," she countered, her voice sharp. "Final offer. Take it, or I walk."

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded, "Deal."

You felt the sting of losing something worth far more than eight cogs as you handed her the shirt. At least you got something out of it, right? 

*

Vi was looking into every crowd and peeking through every window hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere. The day was already almost over. 

She spots Loris exiting a nearby brothel, and he makes eye contact with her. They meet halfway, an unamused expression on Vi’s face, “You really think (Y/n) would be spending her time in there?”

Loris shrugs, “I thought she might work there or something.” He smooths his hair into place.

Vi facepalms. Then after a moment, she looks up at him, “...Does she?”

“Nope.” He rubs his neck, wiping lipstick off of it.

Vi stands there with Loris, feeling somewhat hopeless. “Keep looking around, I guess.”

Loris nods, walking off in some other direction.

Vi does a double-take when some lady walks by wearing a very familiar shirt. For a moment, she thought it might be you. Vi pushed her way through a few people until she was right behind this person. She studied this person’s clothing. This is, without a doubt, the shirt you wore a couple of days ago. 

She puts a hand on the lady’s shoulder, forcefully spinning her around. The lady gasps, quickly shoving Vi’s hand off of her, “The fuck do you want?” the lady barked, a disgusted look on her face.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Vi asks, her eye contact intense.

The lady opened her mouth to answer, but then her face became smug, “Oh you’re Vi, aren’t you?” She brought a hand to her mouth and giggled into it, “I don’t need to be sitting in front row seats to recognize everyone’s favorite fighter. Hah! I’m glad I didn’t bet on you yesterday. That would’ve been tragic for me.”

Vi clenches her fists, her nose wrinkling in annoyance, “Where did you get that shirt?” she repeated, more upset at the fact that this lady ignored the question. Vi could care less about this person’s lame attempt at rubbing in last night’s failure.

The woman smirked, clearly enjoying the tension she was causing, “What’s it to you? You planning to fight me for it, champ?”

Vi took a step closer, towering over her, “I’m not here to fight. Just tell me where you got it.” Her voice was sharp, low, and carried a weight that made the woman’s smile fall slightly. Vi’s eyes then narrow before she speaks, “You didn’t fight anyone for it, did you?”

“Geez, relax!” The woman exclaims, putting her hands up in defense while taking a step back. “Some poor sucker sold it to me earlier. She wanted forty cogs for it, that greedy bitch! But I got it for eight.” A smug look crosses her face.  “Whats’a tough girl like you wanting prettier stuff like this for, huh? You gonna change your look, Vi? ‘Cause if you are, I’m willing to trade this shirt for your jacket.”

Vi’s eyes darkened, the muscle in her jaw twitching. “Not happening. Last chance—where did you see her?”

The woman shifted her weight back and crossed her arms, “She’s near that old pawn shop– it used to be called Benzo’s, or something. Couple of blocks away from it. You can't miss her. She’s hawking clothes to anyone who’d listen. Looked desperate, too. Pretty sad if you ask me.”

Vi took a step forward, forcing the woman to flinch. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said, her voice icy. Without another word, Vi turned and pushed her way back through the crowd, her chest tightening.

You were out here somewhere, and judging by the description, you weren’t doing great. She quickened her pace, her mind racing as she tried to shake off the gnawing guilt. If she found you, she’d make this right—she had to.

*

By the end of the day, you got rid of most of your nicer clothing. As hard as it was to part with all those gifts you loved, your pockets were a bit heavier because of it. These things would have sold for what they were worth in a place like Piltover, but for obvious reasons you couldn’t bring yourself to make the trip over there and back. 

You keep a hand on your hidden switchblade as you make the long journey back home. There was a growing sense of paranoia creeping up your spine. Each step felt heavier, the weight of your earnings barely enough to outweigh the gnawing unease in your chest. The adrenaline amplified your sense of hearing. Every miniscule noise like distant voices, your own footsteps, the buzzing of neon lights, and even the scampering of street rats and alley cats were completely ignored. Your eyes would lock on to every poster with a face on it, almost scaring yourself into thinking that it was an actual person against the wall. Most of it was just Piltover’s wanted posters for Zaun’s hero, Jinx. 

You briefly wondered if a person like Jinx had to worry about running out of cogs. Maybe she was! Ever since Silco disappeared and fell off the face of the world, you wondered how she supports herself nowadays as his supposed ex-subordinate. In a way, you somewhat understood. The absence of Silco caused a rise in other shimmer drug lords which included your ex lover. You lived relatively comfortably with the cogs that they made from it, and now you’re struggling without them.

Yeah, maybe you do understand the Jinx hype in your own way. Though most people look up to her for pissing off Piltover, you feel like you can relate to her on a deeper level like no longer having someone to take care of you. 

‘Who am I kidding?’ you think bitterly, ‘I’m grasping at straws to have anything–no, anybody to relate to. I don’t know a damn thing about Jinx and her life.’ Now you are walking around feeling extra lonely than you are paranoid.

You pass by a pawn shop that you were sure was closed down. When you were younger, rumor had it that some ogre-like creature killed the shop owner. There was some back and forth about it actually being enforcers who killed him rather than some cryptid. Who knows? That was ages ago, and that shopkeeper is nothing but a name that most people have forgotten. If he was alive today, maybe he would have given you the cogs that you deserved for your high quality stuff. 

You felt yourself go cold when a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead. His face was obscured by a hood, but his posture screamed trouble—shoulders squared, stance wide, and a glint of something metallic surrounding his knuckles. Your shoes scrape against the floor as you come to a stop.

"That’s a nice little haul you’ve got there," he said, nodding toward your bag. His voice was low and rough, dripping with malice. Your legs tense up, wanting to run away. But this guy was not carrying anything, unlike you. He could catch up to you easily. 

Gravel and broken glass crunch under his boots as he walks towards you, a low chuckle coming from him.

"I don’t want any trouble," you said, keeping your tone even, though fear made your stomach churn.

He smirked, taking a slow step closer, "Then hand it over, and there won’t be any."

Your hand moved instinctively to your pocket, fingers wrapping around the blade’s handle. "I don’t think you want to do this," you said, hoping to sound more confident than you felt.

The man laughed, but his eyes darted to your pocket, catching the subtle motion. “A pretty thing like you wouldn’t know how to use whatever thing. you're hiding.”

“Try me.” You say, but your voice cracks. You try to hide it by clearing your throat, “You might find yourself surprised.”

 "I said, hand over the bag," he growled, tilting his head at you like he already owned it.

Your grip tightened on the switchblade in your pocket, your mind racing. Fighting him was a last resort—you weren’t sure you’d win, and even if you did, it could go south in so many ways. For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, each of you waiting to see who would flinch first. But this moment of silence had you figure out that this man in front of you is full of shit. In other words, he’s all bark and no bite. If he wanted your stuff and was confident that you couldn’t defend yourself, he would have jumped on you by now.

“Threaten me again, and I’ll start yelling,” you say, finding your confidence, “I saw some enforcers a couple of streets away. They’ll hear me. I’ve got pipes.” You hope he buys your lie.

The man scoffs, “Enforcers wouldn’t care about a Zaunite screaming for hel–”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SAW JINX?” you yell. The man flinches.

“H-hey! Wait–” he begins.

“WHAT? YOU KNOW WHERE SHE’S HIDING?!” you screech loud enough to hear yourself echo in an alleyway nearby.

He reaches his hand towards your face, probably in an attempt to shush you. Before he can touch you, you jump back and reveal your switchblade. A satisfying click comes from it as you hold the blade towards him. He puts his fists up, clutching onto the brass knuckles in his fist. However, he lacked confidence. His posture was very weak now, and he kept looking around for any signs of people approaching. The two of you shift around in a circle.

There was some sort of noise coming from down the street, which seemed to scare the man enough to look behind him. 

“Shit!” he whispers from under his breath. "Whatever," he muttered, his tough guy swagger cracking. "Keep your damn bag."

He shoulder checked you before he slinked away into the shadows, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and legs trembling. You would have waited until he was out of sight before making your own escape, but you had to get going before he realizes that you lied.

You’d managed to walk away unscathed this time, but the thought lingered in your mind as you hurried home: next time, you might not be so lucky. Your walking turned into a light jog, hearing nothing but your own heartbeat in your ears. You looked around desperately for any nook you could hide yourself in until you felt safe, but none of them seemed secure enough.

You suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder blade, making you yell out. You swing your arm, still holding the switchblade. 

Your blade cut through the air, barely missing its target as a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Easy," came a low, familiar voice, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins drowned it out.

You twisted your arm, trying to free yourself from the grip. They dodged your next swing, their movements controlled, almost lazy, as if they were playing with you. You sweep one of your legs, tripping them. However, they manage to catch their balance because of their grip on your arm.

"Let go!" you snarled, lashing out with your free hand.

"Calm down, would you?" They grunted, catching your wrist again after it came in contact with their cheek. They then hold both of your arms firmly. "It’s me!"

You struggled, your breath ragged, your mind refusing to register their words. "Get off me, man!"

"Dammit, (Y/n), it’s Vi!" she snapped, her voice sharper now, the sound cutting through your panic like a blade. Your movements faltered, your heart still racing as you slowly opened your eyes, finally recognizing her under the dim light. The switchblade slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground.

“Hey,” she says softly, shifting her weight as she slowly lets go of your arms.

Your knees felt weak, and you leaned back against the nearest wall, covering your face with your hands. "Shit," you muttered, shaking your head. "I—I didn’t know it was you."

Vi crouched down to pick up your blade. She examined it briefly before holding it out to you. "You’ve got a hell of a swing, though. Ah, but I have a tip for you: keep your eyes open next time.” She chuckles lightly as she rubs her cheek, looking at you and hoping to see if you’d laugh too. But you weren’t.

You don’t reply right away. You take your switchblade from her and retract the blade before putting it away. You slowly put your free hand to your chest, feeling your heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice low and wary.

She takes a deep breath, “I… I came to apologize. For how I treated you. For what I said. I—I shouldn’t have taken my shit out on you.”

You blink, taken aback. Her words don’t feel rehearsed. Instead, they’re awkward and clumsy, but you can tell she means it.

“Why now?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. “You made it pretty clear last night how little you think of me.”

Vi winces, the sting of your words evident in her expression. “I didn’t mean it. Not a word,” she mutters, looking down at her boots. “I was pissed at myself and took it out on you. I know that doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

You study her for a moment, torn between giving her your back or shaking off the whole situation. A HUGE part of you was skeptical. This was not the first time you experienced something like this with someone else…

However, there’s something in her voice that made all the difference—a vulnerability that you only had one glimpse of before. You decide to test her.

You cross your arms, your posture stiff as you glance off to the side, “Why should I believe you?” you ask, your voice tight. “People always apologize to rid themselves of a guilty conscience. Not because they actually care.” You would know from personal experience…

Vi flinches but doesn’t back down. She walks over to stand in front of you, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

You stay silent.

“(Y/n), please look at me.”

Slowly, your eyes meet hers. Her expression was soft, and this is the first time you’ve seen her without smeared makeup and dried blood all over her face.  

“I have not cared about anything for months,” she says, fighting the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, “I… The things I’ve been through. I thought I would never be able to feel anything other than pain and abandonment. Until I met you. I’m tired of fucking up, (Y/n). I’m tired of feeling like this. I truly want us to be friends.”

You study her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you see is raw honesty. It makes your chest tighten in a way you aren’t prepared for.

“I’ve heard those words before,” you say, your voice quieter now but still guarded, “from people who ended up proving me right.”

The look of hurt on Vi’s face was enough to make you feel bad about shutting her down like this. 

“Do you… still want to be friends with me?” she asks, finally breaking eye contact. She looked defeated, and on the inside she felt anger towards herself rising up.

You sigh, the weight of hesitation pressing against your chest. Testing her like this feels cruel, especially when you can see how much she’s trying, but a part of you can’t shake the fear of letting someone in again. Still, the idea of being alone with your thoughts, with the constant reminders of home, feels worse.

“You really think being friends with me is going to fix anything for you?” you ask, your voice is snappier than you intend, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability behind the words.

Vi looks at you again, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I don’t think it’ll fix anything,” she admits, her tone steady but soft, “but maybe it’ll help. For both of us.”

A distraction. That’s what this could be. For her, for you. Maybe even for both of you.

You exhale slowly and finally meet her gaze, arms still crossed as you tilt your head slightly. You want to throw up from the rollercoaster of feelings you went through in less than ten minutes. 

“Let’s do it right this time.” You finally say. 

A small, relieved smile falls upon Vi’s face. It’s amazing how different she looks when all of her tension is gone. You blink a few times, not trying to make her uneasy with your staring. You’re still hesitant, still unsure, but for now, you let the wall between you drop just enough to let her in. Just enough to give you both something to hold on to.

You readjust your bag, resuming the walk back to your place. Vi stays put, unsure if she should follow. She wasn’t even sure where you were going. You look over your shoulder, stopping in your tracks. Vi, trying to stifle her burst of happiness, catches up to you.

“Wanna get a drink?” she asks.

“Tempting, but I have to drop my stuff off.” You pat your bag.

“The night is still young. We can go afterwards.” 

“Tempting, but my apartment is a long way from the strip. Don’t you have a fight to get to?”

Vi shakes her head, “Nah, I promised Loris that I’d give it a break today. Yesterday kind of took a toll on me.”

You snuck glances at Vi. There was a new bandage on the bridge of her nose that wasn’t there yesterday.

“You really took a beating, huh?” You ask. You mentally scold yourself for testing her once more, but you couldn’t help it. Your defenses really wanted to see if Vi would explode on you like she did last night. And if she does, then so be it. It would just feel outright shameful for you to have given her another chance so soon.

“It’s nothing. It’s all just a part of my job.” Vi said it in a tone that tried to play it off like it’s no big deal. Her ego was still very much bruised on the inside, and something about you witnessing that embarrassed her. Furthermore, she felt ashamed as the memories of taking it out on you and Loris (but mostly you) resurfaced. Before you can speak again, Vi says, “(Y/n), I know I already apologized for it, but I want to apologize again. That whole day was just terrible. I had a bad morning, drank a bit too much, and my head wasn’t in the game. I let a lot of people down, but I think you got the worst of it.”

“It’s alright, Vi,” you say, shrugging, though you aren’t entirely sure if it is. You can't shake the feeling that she's hiding more than she's letting on, but you don't press. “We all have our bad days.”

She snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, well, it was a shitshow. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. The day I was having shouldn’t have mattered. You didn't deserve that.” Vi kicks a small stone, watching it roll away. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me.”

“I… I was really pissed at you this morning,” you admit, your voice quiet. “I wanted to stay mad at you, keep up the distance, you know?” You pause and let out a shaky breath, feeling a sting in your chest. “But I can’t. I don’t think I have the right to be. I mean... everything you’ve been through, including the multitude of stuff I don’t know about, I think you’ve got more to be angry or sad about than I do.”

You find your thoughts turning inward. You’d been so quick to throw up walls with Vi, to hold onto the anger from last night, to remind yourself that it wasn’t justifiable for her to treat you the way she did. But as you watch her walk beside you, looking so much like the person you will call your new friend—vulnerable and trying—fills you with guilt. You feel like you haven’t been very fair to her.

Vi glances at you, the hard edge in her eyes softening. Vi shakes her head, the smile she gives you was the gentlest you’ve seen in a while from anyone. It’s almost like she's proud of you for letting that much out.

“Hey. Do not downplay your feelings like that,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, though still firm. “You don’t think you’re also going through a lot? Just ‘cause I’ve been taking hits from people doesn’t mean I get to shove all the stuff you’re dealing with into a corner.”

You walk a few paces in silence, the space between you comfortable for the first time today. It felt good to have someone acknowledge your pain. “Thank you, Vi.”

She runs a hand through her hair, definitely not used to hearing those words. She shrugs, but smiles as she does so. 

The lights have started to become less neon, less saturated. More softer yellow lights were around instead. Vi looked around at the somewhat nicer buildings. Even as a kid, Vi never really explored this part of Zaun. She looked at you curiously and put two and two together: you’re financially struggling. 

“So… how long have you been living in this area?” she asks, now following you instead of walking beside you.

“Ah, nearly four years.” You find your key before spotting your building.

Vi raised her eyebrows, a look of realization on her face. To test her theory, she asks “You got roomies?” 

You look back at her, wondering if you should lie. It’s not like Vi is a bad person, right? Should you tell her?

“...No,” you finally admit, voice soft. “I live alone.”

Vi’s eyebrows furrow, her lips pressing together in thought. “That can’t be easy,” she says, her tone careful, like she’s trying not to overstep. “This place… rent must be a lot.”

You simply hum in agreement, trying to play it off like it was nothing. You find your unit, unlocking the door and pausing. With your hand on the handle, you feel unsure if you should invite her in or not. The thought of someone else stepping into your space feels daunting—like giving her a glimpse of the parts of you you’ve been trying to keep hidden. This was way too soon. You clear your throat and look at Vi with a sheepish smile. 

“Uh, I know we just stitched back our newfound friendship, but I don’t think I’m ready for you to come into my apartment yet.” You then chuckle awkwardly.

Vi blinks, then lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, no, I get it. You’re not ready for me to see the tragic state of your apartment, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s actually clean, thank you very much.”

“Ah, so you’re the tragic mess, then?”

You stifle a laugh. At least this means she’s not upset with you for having her come all this way.

Vi then takes a step back, nodding in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m just happy that you’re back home safe. I should get going, then.” Vi turns on her heel and walks a few steps before looking back at you with a grin, “But now I know where you live, (Y/n), so you bet I’ll come looking for you if I don’t see you around.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you laugh, opening your door ajar.

“Whatever scares you more.” She teases.

Guilt tugs at you. She’d walked all this way with you, and now she’s walking off. You don’t even know if she’s going to go home or if she’s going to go drink by herself. You can see Vi hesitate again, and she turns around to face you once more. 

“You sure you don’t wanna just say screw it and go straight to the bar? No bags, no rules, no complications.”

The suggestion almost tempts you, but you shake your head. “As much as that sounds like a perfect disaster, I’ve got to at least pretend like I’ve got my shit together for a few minutes.”

Vi hums, rocking back on her heels. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a patient, responsible friend for once.”

You snort and push your door open just enough to toss your bag inside before pulling it shut again. “There. My responsible moment of the night.”

“So, drinks?” she asks after a beat, her usual brashness returning as she gives you a sideways glance. You can tell that she’s trying not to show her excitement too much.

You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah, drinks. Let’s just... take it slow, okay?”

And just like that, the night stretches ahead of you—uncertain, but a little less lonely than before.

*

The bar is packed, the low hum of conversations mixing with the distant bass of the music. Vi leads the way, navigating through the crowd with the ease of someone who’s been here more times than she can count. You follow closely, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke thick in the air. Your feet were killing you from all the walking you did today, and sadly there were no seats open at the bar. 

Just as the two of you step in line to order some drinks, a voice calls out from behind you two.

“Well, well. If it isn’t everyone’s favorite frontrunner.”

Vi tenses beside you. It’s subtle, but you catch the way her shoulders draw up just slightly before she forces herself to relax. When she turns around, her expression is already set: a lazy smirk, cocky tilt of her head, the perfect facade. 

The guy who spoke leans against a nearby table, drink in hand, eyes flicking over her with barely concealed amusement. You recognize those thick forearms. Next to him is the agile woman from the other night, leaning against him with her hand on his chest. 

Vi exhales sharply through her nose. Her eyes darted between the two of them. “And you two are…?”

“That’s cute. You forget who we are? Or did we knock your noggin around too hard?”

Your eyes flick to Vi. She’s good at hiding it, but there’s something restrained in the way she stands, like she’s fighting the urge to react. You nudge Vi, already feeling protective over your barely-established friendship. “Just ignore them, Vi.”

The guy looks at you then, really looks, like he’s only just now realizing you’re part of the equation. His face twists into a smirk. “You got yourself an accessory?”

Vi steps in before you can answer, her voice flat. “Not everyone needs a floozy by their side,” she sneers, glancing at the lady beside him. The woman’s face wrinkles in anger. The man growls, slamming his drink down on his table before standing up straight. It was loud enough to make the ambience pause for a split second. When he takes a step towards you two, Vi takes a step forward, guiding you behind her with her arm.

“Hey, man,” the four of you turn to the bartender, yelling out, “Save it for the ring, or all of you are getting kicked out!”

The brute huffs, backing off. He returns to his table and his woman, picking his drink back up. He tips his drink toward Vi in some mock gesture of acknowledgment. “Next time, try to stay on your feet, Vi. I don’t think anybody finds you capable of walking a straight line in general.”

Vi growls, “I was wanting a rematch anyways!” She takes two aggressive steps towards him before you grab her by her arm and pull her back. “It’s not worth it, Vi. Come on.”

The man and woman laugh, then the woman speaks up, “Is she your new parole officer or something?”

“Say that again!” Vi barks, those words striking a nerve. You dig your heels into the ground as you try to keep Vi from taking another step, but holy hell this girl is a tank.

“Vi, just leave them! Come on,” you practically begged. Vi kept her eyes glued to the couple before letting you lead her away.

You drag her to the furthest end of the bar area away from her previous opponents.

“Sorry, (Y/n). I made us lose our place in line.” Vi sighs, still visibly upset.

“Don’t worry about that. You okay?” you ask, voice low.

Vi lets out a breath, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking something off. That wasn’t exactly a yes or a no. What about their words triggered her so much?

“Ignore them, they’re stupid,” you say with a little laugh, trying to lighten her mood. Her face is still tense, and she’s not even looking at you. You notice how her jaw stays tight, her fingers flexing like she’s itching to throw a punch. The tension in her shoulders hasn’t eased one bit, and it doesn’t sit right with you. You could keep talking, try to get her to open up, but something tells you she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

So, instead, you do the next best thing. You move.

You sway a little, rolling your shoulders to the beat, then step in front of Vi, moving in sync with the music. At first, she doesn’t react, still caught in the storm of her own thoughts, but you don’t stop. You let yourself loosen up, exaggerating your movements just enough to catch her eye. A huge part of you feels stupid and awkward. It’s been a few years since you went out to dance at a club, and it probably would come more naturally to you if you already had a drink in your system.

She finally looks at you. “The hell are you doing?”

“Dancing. Duh!”

You can see Vi trying not to smile. “That’s a very interesting dance you got going on there.”

“Dance interestingly with me!” you grab her arm and pull her to the dance floor. The strobe lights should mask any further awkward dance moves you do. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Vi mutters, but there’s a smirk playing at her lips now.

“Maybe,” you say, shooting her a wink, "but at least I’m fun.”

She begins to dance too, and her willingness to participate catches you off guard. “You really don’t look like the dancing type!” 

“Just because I throw hands doesn’t mean I can’t dance,” she counters, getting closer to you so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd and the flashing lights.

But even as the two of you dance the rest of the night away, you can’t shake the feeling that whatever happened in that fight last night—whatever’s still sitting in Vi’s chest—hasn’t been left in the ring.

End of Ch. 5

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Ch. 6 (IN PROGRESS)

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart @brbaabs

half a dozen cupcakes right thereeee^ YAY! My bakery grows >:3

[starseneyes]

Garashir - Julian Bashir / Elim Garak - Deep Space 9

Yes, I'm doing it. After weeks of my poor husband listening to me rant and rave about these two, I decided it was time to start a Meta following their relationship and what wasn't and could have been if TPTB had let these two experience a fully formed romantic relationship rather than one told in between furtive glances and flitting flirtations.

I was quite young when Deep Space 9 aired, but I remember gravitating very heavily toward Julian Bashir. His character underwent such growth, and Siddig El Fadil (as I memorized his name when I was a child, now billed as Alexander Siddig) was mezmerizing.

Little Rachel didn't catch every episode, so I missed a lot of Andrew Robinson as Garak, but watching as an adult I am in awe of the charismatic performance that birthed out of one heckuva interestingly written first scene.

Where will this go? Oh, everywhere! And I'm ever so glad to go there with you.

I wouldn't think a 30-year-old show would need a spoiler warning, but just in case: Spoilers abound for those who dare to dive in. Everything. In totality. Even a bit about Star Trek: Lower Decks.

Shall we?

Before we begin with the meeting of two spectacular characters, I want to preface that I am well-aware that Siddig and Robinson were onboard from moment one and that they acted the hell out of it.

I think it's absolutely beautiful that these two have been the champions of this relationship, and it makes it all the more fun to write a meta like this—knowing that a lot of the microexpressions I tend to latch onto naturally were intentional. Oh, that makes this even more fun!

"It's Doctor Bashir, isn't it? Of course it is. May I introduce myself?" "Uhhhh, yes. Yes. Of course."

From moment one, Bashir is flustered. Yes, we could say he has a degree of excitement about meeting a supposed spy, but there's something in the way these two hold one another's gazes before Garak even opens his mouth that's intriguing.

Thanks to Robinson's openess about his character, we know that Garak was DTF. But Bashir is on the receiving end of this attention and affection, and unsure how to respond to it.

Now, I don't think this is is because our dear doctor is not open to attraction between himself and a being who is not female-presenting, but more because he truly believes this being to be a spy.

Can you trust the flirtations of someone skilled in the art of espionage? This is something Bashir will have to chew on for some time. He just doesn't know it, yet.

"My name is Garak. A Cardassian by birth, obviously."

And there's the moment Bashir looks the man up and down. But, why? It's such a minor thing, but it catches my attention every time, mostly because I know it was a choice on Siddig's part. Bashir looked this alien up and down while trying to figure him out.

Garak invites himself to sit across from the handsome doctor, stating much of the obvious while attempting to draw Bashir out.

"You are new to this station, I believe." "I-I-I am, yes."

Bashir is stammering. And it reminds me of my Middle child. Middle is Autistic, and stammering often happens when he's worked up about something, or really excited.

Bashir then places his elbows on the table... and immediately encounters the plant. He tries to bat it away, but becomes so embarassed he puts his hands back down on the table.

"Though, though I understand you've been here for quite a while." "Ah! You know of me, then."

Garak is noticeably delighted. No doubt, he thinks this awareness smooths the way for him to be even more forward with the object of his desire.

Bashir defers to tea and tries to order Garak some, while Garak basks in the attentive nature of this human he's spied. No doubt, he's wondering just how attentive the good doctor is in other areas of his life.

"As you may also know, I have a clothing shop nearby, so if you should require any apparel, or simply wish as I do, for a bit of enjoyable company now and then, I'm at your disposal, doctor."

Translation: I want to drape you in the sexiest clothes, then disrobe you, and I'll do it anytime you like, just let me know. What, that wasn't what you heard?!

"You're very kind, Mr. Garak."

Kind. It's a word that will come back (though not for another season or so) between these two.

"Oh, it's just Garak. Plain simple, Garak."

Plain and Simple will come back, too. I have to give the writers so much credit for bringing both these things back around later on in the series.

"I'm so glad to have made such an interesting new friend."

He places his hands on Bashir's shoulders, that right hand taking its time as the fingers settle and the human watches them, wondering precisely what he's feeling as it rushes through him in waves. Excitement? Attraction? Danger? All three?!

Hopeful he's gotten his meaning across, Garak leaves the nice doctor be. But the impression of the conversation stays with Bashir as a series of emotions and reactions flash across his features.

Yes, there's the excitement of a young man with flights of fancy thinking he's met a spy. But there's also a "What the hell was that!?" that flits across his face as he tries to process all the things he simultaneously felt.

Amongst the other emotions, there was a definite attraction and desire for this Cardassian he's never met. There was something about him that was intriguing from moment one.

The human has always liked aliens, as we recall from his experiences when his parents first took him away to be "reconditioned" as a child. He was excited to see so many different aliens, then, and his work as a Doctor allows him to encounter many different species.

But this Cardassian showered him in compliments that disarmed him and left this seemingly smooth ladies' man stammering and grasping for composure. That he could be so easily stripped bare of the arrogance that encapsulated early Bashir characterization is no accident.

The actors gave us this gift in their very first scene together with no idea if they would ever meet, again. At this point, Robinson was a one-episode guest star on the show. It doesn't matter. Both he and Siddig performed the hell out of this.

Later, Julian spies Garak out for a drink. And the way the camera finds him alone in a corner lends a sense of loneliness and isolation to the Cardassian. Even the separation of us from him by the bars in the establishing shot seem to block him out, somewhat.

"And how are you this evening, Mr Garak?"

Dear sweet Julian is on the hunt for a spy, but Garak is simply happy to spot the spry, young Doctor, again. The way "enhance my evening" drips off his tongue tastes of that carnal want in the gentlest of ways.

"Ah, plain simple Garak. How are you today?" "Being observant, Doctor." "I'm sure of it."

That giggle Siddig puts into the performance is just delicious. It feels lived in and earnest.

And then these two have the first of many standing conversations—where the meaning of personal space does not exist. Yes, they were dealing with a 4:3 ratio, but there's a difference between tight quarters and kissing range.

"Come in quickly, Doctor, you're late."

Garak is man-handling his human, but there's a reason for it. And poor, dear Julian actually holds up the suit jacket to see if he likes it. I don't know if that was the actor choice or the script, but it genuinely made me laugh.

This episode aired January 1993, which means it was likely shot in late 1992. The next time the two would work together would be on Season 2's "Cardassians", which aired in October of the same year.

This time, it's Julian who notices Garak sitting alone, drinking from a matching mug begging for its pairing to join it.

"Ah, Tarkalean Tea, again, doctor?"

Nicely done, DS9 writers. Calling back to that first meeting where Bashir offered Garak some tea, saying it was good.

Also, this casual acknowledgement suggests there've been some more interactions that have gone unseen by us in the meantime. It's been 9 months in the real world since last they saw one another, so it isn't unrealistic to imagine.

But the writer of this scene quickly roots us in some kind of a casual relationship that has developed since last Garak set his sights on the doctor. It's expertly done, and while it's not related entirely to the performance, I have to call it out because it's so well done.

Bashir starts fishing, again, about the spy he believes Garak to be. And while Garak plays along a little (because he clocks it immediately), he does tire of it.

"Really, Doctor? Must we always play this game?"

Again, I wanna smooch the screenwriter. This is the 90's, y'all. This is just coming off an era where Riker and Troi were seemingly a couple one episode and the next they were making eyes at other people as if they didn't know one another.

This was an era where episodes were essentially still written in a bottle without continuous storylines because the goal was to establish television that allowed Drop In viewers to join the show at any point without needing previous knowledge to understand every nuance.

Deep Space 9 was famous for bringing continuous story-telling to the forefront of Star Trek with the Dominion War, among other things.

But even here in Season 2, someone on that writing team understood the importance of the relationship between these characters so intimately that they sneaked in lines to establish a history unseen by the audience. That's mind-blowingly masterful and deserves attention.

"I'm no more a spy than you are-" "A doctor."

Ooh, is that a little bitchiness coming off of Bashir here? Me gusta! It's so much more attractive here when aimed at the charismatic Cardassian than when employed in attempted seductions of Daxes.

"What else can I do to convince you I'm just-" "Plain, simple Garak?"

Again, calling back to 9 months earlier at a time when most of us were still recording episodes on VHS and mailing them cross-country in tape exchanges coordinated by a burgeoning internet that consisted of IRC, ICQ, and AOL's Buddy Chat. This is artfully done.

"And a bite on the hand is certainly worth saving a boy's life, wouldn't you say?" "I suppose it depends on whose hand. Just joking, Doctor."

Bashir huffs out the slightest laugh at that. But as they speak, the topic turns to Gul Dukat, and Garak gives the good Doctor an education. One that Bashir attempts to use in a verbal confrontation with Gul Dukat that goes nowhere.

"He's lying." "Is that an opinion, or do you have evidence to support it?" "I have Garak."

This is intriguing to me. Because, in the first scene of the episode, as Garak and Bashir sipped drinks and chatted, Bashir brought up the issue of "trust".

On nothing but the word of a Cardassian he casually knows, Bashir inserted himself into a conversation to which he was no part and got himself duly told off by his superior officer.

One could say that he was foolhardy to so readily believe the man he has correctly deduced to be involved in espionage. But, there's something at a chemical level about these two that cannot be denied. And the next scene shows it all the more.

Bashir tosses and turns in bed, something interfering with his peaceful slumber. He starts himself awake and sits up to see Garak sitting patiently, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake.

"Come, Doctor."

Woah, there, Nelly. I know you like to be forward, Garak, but did you really need to be that obvious?! There'll be plenty of time for that later.

"Get dressed."

I'm sorry. Are we implying that Garak is just gonna... chill in Bashir's quarters while he unbuttons that non-regulation looking night shirt and nothing's gonna happen between the two of them?

I mean, I suppose there's a reality where Garak is too worried about this Cardassian War Orphan to take advantage of the moment, but I'm certain he is not going to waste the opportunity to enjoy the view.

"We need to be going." "Going? Going where?" "To Bajor."

And on nothing more than that, the good Doctor suits up, wakes his superior officer (who just told him off) and requests a Runabout.

"It's Garak, sir. He wants to go to Bajor." "Bajor. For what?" "He wouldn't tell me."

Listen, honey. I know you're down bad for the Cardassian bad boy, but your Commander's getting a little tired of you interrupting him (first his meeting, then his sleep) on his behalf. Just bang him and be done with it, won't you? But, of course, a timely message saves the day.

"It can't be just a coincidence, sir... What could he be looking for on Bajor?" "There's only one way to find out."

And thus, a Cardassian and his human boy toy took off for answers.

"Perhaps, I can be of service." "You can fix computers?" "Oh, I dabble in isolinear subprocessors. It's a hobby of mine." *jaw clench*

I have to call out the jaw clench. There are few actors who can make a motion that minute and have it read well on camera.

"I continue to underestimate you, Garak."

I've never understood this line. Perhaps, Bashir could not fathom all of Garak's capabilities, but one would automatically assume a spy possessed hidden talents.

Perhaps this line speaks to the 90's, an era when we still pretty-much stuck to the labels provided by John Hughes' Breakfast Club of Brain, Athlete, Basket Case, Princess, and Criminal. Folks weren't easily more than one thing in that compartmentalized view of society and media.

If anything, Garak is an incredible Grey character when it comes to morality and motivation. So, perhaps his inclusion in the show is a delineator between the old and the new—where more complex characters were accepted on television.

But, no, Julian, I don't think you've underestimated him. Perhaps your imagination didn't stretch so far to encompass all of Garak's talents. But, if anything, you've put more stock in him and what he says than anyone else. Otherwise, you wouldn't be on this planet right now.

Garak removes his eyeglass and hands it instinctively to Julian, who receives it. It's a very intimate moment, honestly. They don't discuss this in any way. Garak knows Julian would want to see it, and he hopes to diffuse his questions by tying it all back to his tailor cover.

"Computer, disregard that request and shut down all engines."

Watch Garak, here. Robinson is taking us through an entire thought journey masterfully in seconds through microexpressions. There's surprise. Confusion. Concern. And then a realization where he thinks he's landed on what prompted this.

"I'm sorry you're upset about the orphans... I don't make the rules." "But you do play the game, don't you, Garak? And there is a game being played right now as we speak, isn't there?"

Holy fuck, yes, Julian! Finally, you are pushing back! Look, I love how much Julian can trust Garak sometimes, but it's also a bit foolish, and it's about damn time he held Garak's feet to the fire on this one.

"There are always games, Doctor." "The trouble is I don't have the slightest idea what this game is all about. So you're gonna tell me what's going on inside that plain and simple head of yours, my Cardassian friend, or we're going to sit here until we rot."

Garak looks like he wants to pin him right there. Rather than explain it all to him, Garak feeds him the information he needs to put together the pieces.

See, Garak knows that Bashir has a keen intellect. He doesn't need to tell him everything. He can simply allow Bashir to deduce it.

And perhaps this is a sneak peek of our dear Cardassian's talent for spinning tales and avoiding speaking absolute truth, but it also shows a level of trust in Bashir's intelligence.

It's the furthest Garak is willing to trust Bashir, right now, but it's still a huge leap in terms of any other relationships in Garak's life. I mean, what other friends does he have?

Sure, he initally approached Bashir hoping for a quickie or a nice man he could bootie call every so often. It seems Bashir hasn't quite taken the leap Garak had hoped in that department, but they have spent enough time together to forge some kind of bond.

And that's rare for a spy. Connections are weaknesses, you know. Which makes what these two share throughout the series all the more important for them both.

"Very good, Doctor. I'm glad to see our little get-togethers haven't gone for naught."

Again, this isn't their second time meeting, even if it is only our second time seeing them together. Gosh, I love this writing team for getting it.

"Another coincidence?" "I believe in coincidences. Coincidences happen every day. But I don't trust coincidences."

Gosh, this man can deliver a line. Also, I love the "coincidences" coming back around.

"Do you really think he purged the file on Rugal?" "I would have."

It's not an admission of his role as a spy, but it is a clue. And, if Bashir is paying attention, as much admission as he'll get at this point.

"Are you sure his name was Rugal?" "That's what we were told." *Garak perks up* "Somebody told you his name?" *Garak smiles*

I love this bit. Garak is smart, so he immediately clocks the "told" bit. And then he gets to have pride in his pet human clocking it nearly as quickly.

"Is there anything else, Doctor?"

Julian looks to Garak, who is hovering out-of-view of the Bajoran. He smiles as he shakes his head. "You did well," his smile says.

"Commander, can I ask a few questions?"

Julian walks in with Garak by his side—equals in this moment. And while Sisko earlier told Bashir off for interrupting, he knows well enough, now, that the Doctor must have something constructive to offer.

"Alright. Let's talk about children."

Look. At. The. FRAMING. Yes, we're watching Bashir square off with the menacing Gul Dukat, but framed behind them is a barely contained Garak, watching Bashir with pride.

This isn't the pride of a parental figure, but the pride one feels when their Partner gets to show everyone else what we already see in them. While Bashir has flubbed a bit through this episode, he gets to shine in this scene.

Garak always knew he had it in him, which is why he perked when Bashir stood up to him in the Runabout. Now, he gets to watch as Bashir triumphs in front of his Commanding officer and others against Garak's old nemesis—Gul Dukat.

After Julian moves away to take his place at the front of the room, the frame holds on Gul Dukat with Garak in the background. And, oh, the theater girl in me is fangirling!

Look, there are actors and then there are actors. I will never forget the first time I saw my husband on stage. We wouldn't meet for months later, but I was very bored during the second act of a University performance of St. Joan.

Every actor on that stage was talking, but nobody was listening. You can be a fine actor and get by, but those who also know how to listen and react will always have my heart.

And as the second act droned on, I noticed one of the 12 people sitting at the front of the stage slowly remove their blindfold, turn their head, and listen.

He had maybe 8 minutes of speaking time on stage, but when I went home that night, I raved to my father about him. "The second act was dragging and then this man took off his blindfold and I thought, 'finally, there's an actor on this stage!'"

Watching Robinson, here, you can tell just how amazing he is. The director chose to keep him in-frame, likely because he recognized the brilliance. And all these years later, that remains a gift to us all.

Julian delivers the final blow, and his forceful presentation gives way to an honest smile directed at Garak, who smiles back, glowing with spousal pride as he nods.

"Truth, Doctor, is in the eye of the beholder. I never tell the truth because I do not believe there is such a thing. That's why I prefer the straight line simplicity of cutting cloth." "So, you're not gonna tell me." "But you don't need me to tell you, my friend. Just notice the details. They're scattered like crumbs all over this table we regularly share."

They have a table. They have a table! I love all these little details. Also, you can tell they've really honed in on Garak's character, here.

While his first, flirty appearance wasn't intended for a recurrence, I think they had a better idea of it, here, and thus a better handle on him. Being illusive is just part of who he is and how he operates.

"Until next time."

And he nods his head toward Bashir, and Bashir nods back. I point this out because it will come back, and I think it's just so incredible that Robinson put this in so early. Trust me, I'll point it out when it comes back, again!

It would be five months before these two shared the screen, again. I point this out only because the spaces between them working together are getting smaller and smaller.

Someone amongst TPTB realized they had a winner with this Garak character and brought him back—expanding his interactions to more of the crew.

"It all comes down to a question of loyalty. My dear doctor, Yuri had to choose between protecting his brother and protecting the state. He chose the state. As would I, every time."

Oh, this is one of those conversations that says so much about Garak for anyone paying attention (or for those of us with knowledge of the future). Watching this the first time, nobody would have known about Tain, about Garak's past, about so many things.

But from this conversation we know he's a man of the state, first. That is where his loyalty lies. Not with people. It's very revealing.

"Fishing, again, Doctor?" "Assuming you're not a spy-" "Assuming." "Then, maybe you're an outcast." "Or, maybe, I'm an outcast spy." "How could you be both?" "I never said I was either."

He's telling you, Julian! You just have to listen instead of looking for what you want to hear. In this episode, Julian may not realize how much of what Garak said in that short span was true. But, we, the audience, do.

"Before I became a tailor I went by a simple motto—never let sentiment get in the way of your work. A bit of a cliché, but true, nonetheless."

Unsurprising to any of us paying attention. But, this is a television show, so one has to wonder how this next bit is going to play out, right?

In this one episode, we've gotten to see how Garak can play both sides, how much we wants to go home, how much he hates exile. They've set it up for us to believe that Garak is going to do the wrong thing, here.

For goodness sake, Robinson was probaby peeking at the end of the script to see if this would be the one where they killed him off. It would've made narrative sense!

"I can't believe that you were once considered clever."

Oh, you Cardassian bloviator. How you've underestimated the simple tailor.

"I love Cardassia. Which is why I had to do what I did."

He said at the start of the episode that he will always choose Cardassia. And once he realized that the old frenemie ruined his Central Command-approved plan, he chose what was best for his homeworld and not what was best for him. And that, my friends, is a true act of love.

Why go into all of this when this is supposed to be a Garashir Meta? Well, because everything that happened plays into a simple, short scene between the two at the beginning of the episode.

Garak had to choose between a frenemie and the State. Like he said, he'd always choose the State. So, for once, Garak was not lying to the dear Doctor at all.

Now we get to one of my favorite Garashir episodes—The Wire. Because, let's face it, there's a lot of these two in this episode and Robinson is just... oh, chef's kiss.

PAUSE: Why was Julian Bashir my favorite character on DS9? Well, much as he was and is a gorgeous human who should be immortalized in marble, it wasn't looks. I was a child when I first watched the show, and I'm pretty damn Ace, so it's not about looks. No, it's about talent.

I long ago realized that I choose favorites based on talent. When The Backstreet Boys were big (and I learned a couple songs so I could sing along at school dances while cringing over the music videos), friends asked who my favorite was. "Brian!" I said without hesitation. "But he's not cute," my friends responded.

I hadn't even considered if he was cute. I chose him because he was the most talented.

My favorites of each Star Trek series tended to be the performers that I thought were the most talented. Siddig was unmatched, to me, amongst the main cast. It was only opposite Robinson where I saw two evenly matched performers feeding off of one another and elevating each other.

So, yes, I am gushing right now over Robinson, but accompanied by that is a baseline of being gobsmacked by Siddig.

Now, let's take that appreciation of these two giants into The Wire, which aired only two months after the previous episode featuring Garak.

"I hope I'm not boring you, Doctor." "Oh, not at all, no."

Bashir places a hand amicably on Garak's back, patting once and taking almost a full two seconds before letting his hand drop away.

"I just up late last night." "Entertaining one of your lady friend?"

C'mon, Garak. Just say it. You'd rather he be up late entertaining you. We all know it!

Also, glaring intensely at whichever higher up said, "Oooh, we need the pansexual lizard to reference that Julian is definitely all about the ladies!" Like, y'all, we can clock the queer from here. It's okay. You can totally let them be in love.

"Unfortunately, not."

Covering. This has to be covering. It's not like the good doctor can't ensnare some cutie with that boyish smile of his. But he has to play along for anyone listening along so they don't suspect his attraction to the Cardassian Spy. That's the reason, right?

"No, I was reading the last few chapters of The Neverending Sacrifice." "Isn't it superb? Without a doubt the finest Cardassian novel ever written."

Hold up. Hold up. This is boyfriend behavior. You're telling me he stayed up late last night reading a Cardassian novel? Like, he purposefully didn't go out or see anyone because he wanted to do something that connects him to Garak!?

Oh, honey. Now I see why you had to cover with that "unfortunately no ladies" thing. You're down bad for lizard boy.

"There's always Quark's." "True. But I'm really not in the mood for noisy, crowded, and vulgar today." "I suppose the Klingon restaurant is out of the question."

Is this flirty? My dear Siddig, you really played this line as flirty! And I adore it!

"Maybe if you lent me another book by a different writer-"

Again, DS9 writers doing the most with limited space. We know, now, that Garak lent Bashir the book. Some part of him wanted Julian to connect with this, one of his favorite books.

This is not Spy behavior, my dear Cardassian. This is boyfriend behavior. You crave genuine connection with Julian. This isn't fuck-town anymore where you simply want him carnally. No, you're developing feelings for the man.

In the immortal words of Whoopi, "You in danger, girl".

"It would only be a waste of time. When it comes to art, you're obviously a prisoner of Federation dogma and human prejudice." "I'm sorry you feel that way."

Do you hear how softly Julian says this? He's genuinely hurt that he hurt Garak's feelings. He wants to smooth it over by trying, again. Pain seizes Garak before they can continue.

"Are you alright?" "I'm fine." "You don't look fine. Your skin is clammy and your pupils have contracted."

The wounded boyfriend voice has lifted to the concerned boyfriend voice. Garak smiles a bit, touched by the consideration, but also trying to put up a brave front.

"I assure you, I'm in perfect health. Now, you were asking about other Cardassian books, something, maybe a little more acces-"

He's trying to divert, to change the subject. But his pain is too much for him to carry out his usual subterfuge and obfuscation.

"Perfect health? Then Cardassian standards must be a little lower than mine."

Ouch, Julian. Did you really have to take that jab at the man when he's already down!? Julian places his arm around Garak to escort him to the Infirmary, but there's no way our dear Cardassian is going to let that happen.

And then we get to the moment I had to pause the video and search Social Media. See, a name popped up that I immediately recognized. "Robert Hewitt Wolfe"

He wrote this episode. And, as I opened a tab to Bluesky, I realized that of course, I follow him... and he follows me. Me!? Why me!?

Look, loves, I'm a former VO artist and actress from Virginia who grew up in North Carolina. Yes, I grew up on film sets, but that was a whole other part of my life. I have some incredible folks who follow me on Social Media, and I've never fathomed why.

So, honored as I am to find Wolfe following me... I have no idea why!

"I only wish my humanoid patients were as easy to treat." "Did Chief O'Brian dislocate his shoulder, again?"

This is so telling. See, Jadzia can tell from Julian's tone that he's not just talking about any patient. He is pointedly talking about a patient with whom he shares genuine connection. This isn't ordinary annoyance. This is frustration.

"It's Garak. Today, at lunch, he seemed as though he was gonna have some sort of seizure. He was having trouble breathing and appeared to be in a great deal of pain. When I tried to get him to come to the infirmary, he outright refused."

All he needed was someone to open the door. In seconds, he ascertained a lot about his Cardassian friend's condition. And now he's worried. He can't let it go.

I've seen folks talk about Bashir being Autistic-coded, and as the mother of an incredible Autistic-child, I can really see it. And one thing my boy has a really hard time doing is letting go when he is invested in something or someone.

"It's that damn Cardassian evasiveness of his. I mean, keeping me guessing about his past is one thing, but when it comes to his health, I don't know. Why can't he just tell me what's going on?" "It sounds like you're taking this personally." "I suppose I am."

Oh, honey, we know you are. The game of who Garak is and what Garak's done is part of your foreplay. But knowing that he is in pain and worrying that it's going to escalate is not fun.

"It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year, now, you would think he'd come to trust me a little."

Honey, he roped you into a midnight trip to Bajor and trusted you with the truth about that Cardassian child. Did you forget about that? Or, maybe you don't yet understand just how much trust that actually took.

He does trust you. More than he trusts anyone else on this spacestation. But your soon-to-be-beloved has a lot of trust issues, and a problem with sentiment.

And I just realized I've written "Honey" four times in this Meta so far. And, no, it isn't common in my Metas. It seems reserved, right now, for Julian Bashir. So, in case you thought I'd missed that little quirk, no, I didn't, and I have no explanation. Anyway...

"Why should he? It's not like the two of you are really friends." "Well, no. Of course not."

And Julian bluffs. He tries to brush it off. Because what they are will never fall into a simple label. It'd be convenient if it did.

But these two have a special bond that goes beyond any either of them has ever had. And while we only see Julian banging women on the series, this is supposed to be a more evolved time where we don't judge one another based on who they love.

So, it's unreasonable to label any character in the Star Trek universe as "straight" simply because of what we see on-screen.

Garashir hasn't been a phenomenon for thirty years because these two were friends. What they were and are is so much more complicated than that. But in this moment with Jadzia, Julian doesn't have those words and wouldn't even know where to start. So, he deflects.

"I suppose when it comes right down to it, I don't trust him, either. I mean, for all I know the man is a Cardassian spy."

Julian... honey... did you forget when you woke Sisko in the middle of the night to procure a Runabout just because Garak asked you to!? You trust him. And you're upset he doesn't seem to trust you back.

That's what this really is. He does trust Garak. And he wants desperately for Garak to trust him back. I mean, can you love someone you don't trust? Maybe. Can you love someone who doesn't trust you? Sure.

But trust is an important part of any relationship. And this episode really highlights that for Garak and Bashir.

"And if he doesn't want my help, that's his perogative."

Besides the obvious angry stab that Jadzia totally clocks, the emphasis on "my" is fascinating. Julian isn't upset that Garak isn't seeking medical assistance. It's about him. He's upset that Garak isn't seeking his assistance.

So, of course, Bashir leaves Jadzia and spies... his boyfriend asking somebody else for help. And, oh, that burns.

"You and Garak going into business?"

Busted! Nice spy work, Bashir. Looks like you have been paying attention.

"Really? I thought Garak sounded a bit upset." "Upset? I hadn't noticed. Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

Ohhhh, the jaw clench is working overtime. Julian looks like he might punch Quark right then and there. I mean, you can feel the heat coming off of Bashir, and that is all Siddig pouring it into the performance. So delicious.

"I was hoping you could give me a hand. I've been trying to access the old Cardassian medical files, but I haven't been having much luck."

Look at boyfriend Bashir using his free time to try to help his favorite Cardassian. Of course, he finds out it will take too long to get the files he needs, and you can see the frustration flash through him as he takes it in. Another dead end.

"Quark to Bashir." "This is Bashir." "Doctor, I need you in my bar, right away."

Let's talk about this, right quick. So, we all know that Bashir and Garak have been having lunch together at least once a week for a year, now, right?

So, when Garak is getting a bit out of hand and needs someone to take him home, who does Quark call? He calls Bashir. Because Bashir is Garak's person, and everyone who's paying attention knows it.

Again, this isn't a simple "friend" label. But Quark didn't call Bashir for his medical experience here. He called him for his Garak experience. And Bashir clocks the very drunk Garak as soon as he enters. He passes off his medical kit to Quark and sets his sights on Garak.

"Doctor. What a pleasant surprise. I apologize for my outburst at lunch, but I promise I'll make it up to you. Please, join me." "I think I will. May I?" "By all means... What are you doing!?"

Note the different responses to the different people. Quark and Garak have a "friendly" association, but they aren't friends. Bashir is the closest thing to a friend Garak has.

"I think it's a little noisy in here. I'd prefer to drink somewhere quieter."

As Bashir clutches the long-necked bottle, he uses Garak's own words from earlier against him.

"Why, an excellent idea. We'll go to my quarters."

Well, it's about damn time. I mean, yes, Garak did break into Bashir's quarters that one time, but this is the first time he's inviting him back to his place that we've seen.

And, Bashir, what are you doing with your face?! That open mouth. Those wandering eyes as Garak places the cork in the bottle.

"Whatever you want."

Um.... do you mean that, Doctor? Because, I'm certain the handsome Cardassian would love to take you up on that!

But, alas, nobody gets what they want (except Quark who snatches that bottle from behind Bashir's back as quickly as he can). Bashir tries to bamboozle his boyfriend into a trip to the Infirmary, but even blundering drunk Garak is still an astute Garak.

"I am not going to the Infirmary, and I refuse to play this ridiculous game."

Ah, yes, the games. A lot of their foreplay is in games. But, also, a lot of the way Garak's been forced to live all these years.

"Make it stop. Make it stop."

Because Garak really does want it to stop. The pain. The embarassment. The humiliation. The loneliness. The isolation. He wants it all to stop.

But that requires letting someone in. That requires trust. And, for obvious reasons, he's not one who naturally trusts with ease.

"Is that legal?" "It's in the best interest of Station Security. Doctor, do you want to know what Quark knows or not?" "I see your point."

Because he needs to know how to help Garak.

"Patient Garak is no longer in the Infirmary." "What!?"

I love the reading on that. It's exasperated more than surprised. Because of course that frustrating Cardassian was gonna slip out the second his back was turned. He stalks off to his boyfriend's Quarters to give him a piece of his mind... and find that he of course stole medicine.

"Ah, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise."

He meant it at Quark's. He's lying, here. He'd much rather be alone.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Oh, I love pissed off Julian. All he wants to do is help Garak, and from his point of view, Garak keeps making it worse by keeping him at arm's length.

His "What the hell do you think you're doing" screams, "Why won't you just let me help you, you foolish lizard man!?"

"Listen to me, Garak, I've had just about enough of your nonesense. Now, you're coming back to the Infirmary with me." "Oh, I don't think so. Believe me when I tell you, there's nothing you can do for me." "Oh, and Quark can, is that it?!"

Ooooh, there it is. I was right! Julian is jealous and hurt and he desperately wants Garak to trust him. Garak's eyes widen in surprise. Upon learning Quark couldn't get the item, though, Garak accepts his fate.

"Ah, well. Maybe it's for the best. My hypospray, if you please." "Another dose of tryptocederine might kill you." "Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I'd rather have the hypospray." "I'm not gonna let you commit suicide. I'm here to help you."

But you can't force help on someone who doesn't want it. Not like this. Sure, Bashir could knock Garak out and get him back to the Infirmary, but that won't give him answers. That won't give him a path to healing. He needs Garak to open up and let him help.

"We've got to get you to the Infirmary." "My dear doctor, I have no intention of putting myself on display for the amusement of the Bajoran inhabitants of this statin." "It's not your pride I'm worried about. It's that implant you're carrying around inside your head." "You know about that, do you?"

Again, he's impressed. Julian has put in the work on this one. But this also illuminates why Garak has been so resistant to being in the Infirmary all along—he's a Cardassian. And he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is his exit.

He truly believes that Bashir cannot help him. So, why tell him anything? But the more he pushes and pushes, the more little truths slip out.

"Garak! I need to know what we're up against. If you tell me what it's for, maybe I could find some way to remove it."

There it is. We. Us. In the immortal words of Pacey Whitaker, "There's an us here, now."

Somewhere in there... Garak decides to tell the truth. At least, some of it. He leaves out his parentage, of course, but he tells Bashir about the implant, about his true torture in exile.

"Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold. The lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on this station looks at me with loathing and contempt."

He turned it on continuously a year before he met Bashir. So, we have never seen him at a time when he was without it. We don't have any clue what baseline Garak looks like without his happy pills. A terrifying and intriguing thought.

"So... that's it, then. You're just going to give up and let them win." "Them, Doctor?" "The Central Command. The Obsidian Order. Whoever it was who exiled you here. You're just going to roll over and die, let them destroy you, give up any hope of ever seeing Cardassia, again." "Doctor, did anyone ever tell you that you are an infuriating pest?" "Chief O'Brian, all the time, and I don't pay any attention to him, either."

I know this is not the best time, but is anyone else just waiting for these two to kiss? This is lover-level arguing, folks.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might be getting exactly what I deserve?" "No one deserves this."

There's that soft voice, again. The one he had when he apologized for Garak thinking he had no taste when it came to literature.

"Oh, please, Doctor. I'm suffering enough without having to listen to your smug, Federation sympathy. You think that because we have lunch together once a week you know me? You couldn't even begin to fathom what I'm capable of."

He's pushing Julian away. He's trying to drive Julian off because sentiment is a weakness that Garak can't afford. Right?

"I am a Doctor. You're my Patient. That's all I need to know."

And this is one of those moments where Julian really shines. Yes, he's been a bit emotional about Garak this episode... stabbing plants and all. But, when it's time to be the cool and calm one, he does it expertly.

I can be an emotional human. Heck, I'm human, so emotion is part of the whole shebang, right? But, when there's an emergency, I'm the coolest head in the room. I don't know if it's my Disaster Relief background, my News background, or just lots of childhood trauma that taught me how to be cool-headed, but I excel at it.

And, here, Bashir has shifted into his professionalism.

See, the personal side has been settled for him, in a way. Garak let him in. Garak told him what the problem was. He now has a starting point because Garak gave him something to work with. Now, he is back to being a Doctor trying to help his Patient.

"Wrong, again. You need to know who you're trying to save."

Watch Garak's face as he turns away. He doesn't want to do this. But he feels he has to.

What good is a spy with real friends? He needs to be ready to leave at any moment, ready to kill anyone for the sake of Cardassia, ready to face his end if that is the best outcome.

Garak puts distance between them, putting the actual desk between them, even though the framing obscures it.

He tells half-truths to Bashir—enough to hopefully drive him away, to destroy his compassion, to let him die alone and tortured by his past.

Bashir feels the full weight of the words and leans against the desk for support. Garak crosses back around the desk to stand alongside him, ready for his punishment. Ready for the rejection. Ready for the inevitable loss.

And the camera moves with him. At this point, we've spent nearly 15 seconds on this shot, already. There is no switch in perspective.

We are with Garak as he rounds the table to Bashir, as he settles in next to him, as we transition from Garak standing alone and defiant, to him leaning, defeated, and worn... but not alone.

"I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions."

Garak lowers his head, closing his eyes, ready for his heart to shatter as his work is done. Yes, a lot of what he said is probably true, and he thinks it will be enough to drive his one friend away.

The shot is stunning. He leans down so that their heads are almost on the same level. Bashir is heavy with possible truths. Garak is heavy with fear and trauma.

"Listen to me, Garak-"

Cutting him off, because this is the second time he's said it this scene, but the tone is completely different. Before, he was angry. He was incensed! He demanded that Garak return to the Infirmary.

This time is different. And the writer gave Siddig the space to do this so beautifully—to show the difference between Bashir at the beginning of the scene and the end.

Garak looks up to meet his eyes, unsure of what he's going to say. There's openness on his side, more so than usual. And on Bashir's, a choice has been made—one that Garak didn't anticipate for all his possible scenarios plotted in the miliseconds used to gather his story.

"Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not gonna walk out of here and let you die. You need to turn that implant off, and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise, I'll help you through them."

Garak looks away from Bashir, his eyes darting back to the compassionate man before him. His plan failed. He didn't scare away his only friend. He looks away, unable to meet Julian's eyes.

"I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?"

And Garak tells him. At this point, I don't know if Garak realized that he would continue to deteriorate even after it was turned off. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.

But I think he also realized he finally had someone in his life who wouldn't push him away, wouldn't give up on him, wouldn't denounce him when it got scary.

And the camera moves with Bashir. We've been on that same shot for an entire minute at this point. We started with Garak defiantly finishing his story, to the two of them meeting in the middle, to Bashir taking over as the man of action, going for the device.

As Bashir grasps the device, the camera pans up, Bashir in the background and a bent Garak in the foreground. Again, there's an us here, and the camerawork is helping tell that tale.

Also—over a minute of these two on-camera? That's sensational. Camera cuts can cover up a multitude of sins. From someone flubbing a line, to a case of the giggles, to bad blocking.

But Siddig and Anderson are skilled enough to handle the long take with ease. Both practiced performers who are accustomed to the unforgiving nature of the live audience on the stage, they take their characters through this journey together masterfully.

And, again, it's Anderson's reactions that really gut you. But Siddig gives him the space for those reactions to breathe. For example, when Bashir says, "Listen to me, Garak," he takes a breath, there. It gives Garak the time to gather himself, to take a breath himself, to meet his friend's eyes.

You can see Garak gathering the courage for his heart to break. Yes, he spun the tale that was intended to do just that. But, he honestly wishes it weren't so.

"Right now, I'm not concerned with what you did in the past." Garak's mouth opens. It's slight, but it's there. He's surprised.

"I'm simply not gonna walk out of here and let you die." Garak's eyes start searching Bashir's—he means it. This isn't a trick. This isn't subterfuge. He gives a damn.

"...I promise I'll help you through them." That's when Garak looks away. He doesn't feel like he deserves Bashir's kindness. If anything, he deserves to be abandoned and have his heart break before he dies alone, right?

It's such a gorgeous scene. The writing. The directing. The framing. The performing. The vulnerability Robinson lends Garak in that last minute, and the compassion Siddig pours into Bashir.

Some actors simply can't carry a scene like that, but these two meet one another, feeding off of one another, giving to one another instead of trying to dominate the space as the focal point.

And, look, for all I know these long shots are simply the result of the production schedule adjusting so there would be fewer set-ups and Robinson could get out of the Cardassian wet-suit faster. But, even if they are, they're still a wonder to behold.

"Well, that'll be all, for now. If you need to reach me, I'll be here for at least the next 26 hours."

Think about the nuance of all of this. He didn't bring Garak back to the Infirmary. He set up in Garak's Quarters to be sure Garak would be as comfortable as possible, but gave no thought to his own comfort as he's tending his patient.

Garak will be able to detox with dignity in private—save Julian. And Julian will fulfill his promise to help him through. The door chimes, and it's Odo.

"Come on, we can talk outside."

Yes, you could say that Julian is only doing this because he is in Doctor mode looking out for his Patient. But, earlier he was willing to do something illegal in monitoring Quark's private communications for the sake of information, right?

"I'm afraid your questions will have to wait."

And René Auberjonois' reaction is what makes this fascinating. He was not expecting the good Doctor to say that.

"Doctor, these are murder cases and Garak may be a suspect."

Maybe the human doesn't understand, right? Maybe if he speaks to the brilliant doctor like he's a toddler, he'll get through.

"That may be so, but he's still my patient and I'll not have him disturbed, so until further notice his Quarters are off-limits to everyone except Emergency Medical Personnel. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to."

Odo acknowledges it, but he looks back several times in consternation to the door as he goes. He's wondering about the good Doctor's motives, here. He is. And he's not wrong to wonder.

Yes, Julian is a Doctor tending to his Patient. But he's also a friend who made a promise that he intends to keep.

At first, Garak sleeps. There are fitful moments. And Julian watches over him. He hovers. And then, finally, he curls up in the chair and drifts off to sleep. He's exhausted. He's worn. But he wakes to the soft sobs of a Cardassian.

Can you imagine how unnerving it is for a hardened Cardassian spy to find himself crying in the presence of a weak human? A human he has trusted to get him to this point. A weakness he can't afford?

And, yes, he is under the extreme stress of detox. He has gone from reliance on this implant for two years to turning it off, cold turkey, and his system is in shock. He's going to lash out. And Julian knows it.

"Garak?" "Leave me alone." "I don't think that would be a good idea right now. Your blood chemistry is severely unbalanced. You need to rest."

Julian perches on the bed next to Garak, but they are facing opposite directions. Julian has one perspective, and Garak the other. He places a hand on the Cardassian's shoulder, and Garak lurches from it.

Ordinarily, Garak would welcome Julian's touch. Already this episode, this is the fourth time Julian has reached out to touch Garak, once as a friendly pat, and twice with the hopes of escorting him to the Infirmary.

But in his detox, Garak doesn't want touch. He doesn't want affection. He's hurting and angry and confused. But he's still Garak—weaver of tales and master of half-truths masquerading as full lies.

"Don't touch me." "Calm down."

Julian, honey, no. And, Garak runs with it. He starts destroying things—the lamp, overturning his desk with barely any effort.

"Do you have any idea what that means?" "I'm afraid I don't." "No, you don't, do you. You don't know much of anything."

Again, he's pushing Julian away. But when Julian brings up the shuttle story... the story shifts.

And we begin another long shot following Garak as he rants and raves, possessed by memory and haunted by the horrors he'd rather bury in the forced endorphines of his mind.

Robinson is monologuing. As a theatrical actor, this is not something that would be new to him. But a lot of science fiction simply didn't possess performers of this caliber at that time.

In this version, Garak is the one who made the unthinkable choice and Elim is the angry Statesman.

And this shot was 1:15 long. Yes, Robinson has the heavy work in this scene and is teaching us a masterclass on performing. But Siddig has to support without ever drawing focus. And that is tougher than it looks. Again, masters.

"And so they exiled you." "That's right! And left me to live out my day with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you."

This sounds biting, and Julian takes it as such. But, underneath that is a truth—for an entire year, Garak had nothing to look forward to on this station. At first, he spied the spry Startfleet Doctor and though, "ooh, a bit of fun!"

But, now... time with Julian is something he looks forward to. For any of us who have ever been in a tough spot, felt like the walls were closing in, were struggling through life—we understand the power of having something to look forward to.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company." "Oh, I did! And that's the worst part."

Now, Julian knows that Garak is lashing out because of the detoxification. Likely, this isn't the first time he's helped a patient through this.

But they have the added layer of a friendship. Yes, it's one they both deny, at this point. Garak needs to fool himself into thinking he'd still kill Julian at a moment's notice, and Julian needs to underplay how much Garak means to him because he isn't yet ready to face it.

So, Julian averts his eyes as Garak continues, because he needs to try to keep this in Doctor mode and not take it personally.

"I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into your smug sanctimonious face."

Staring, you say? Yeah, I know, not the best time to swoon. But, y'all, he enjoys staring at the good Doctor and just admitted it. It's cute!

"I hate this place and I hate you." "Okay, Garak. That's your prerogative. Now, I really think you should lie down."

He's barely holding onto the professionalism, here. He cognitively knows well enough that this isn't as personal as it might seem. Garak is coming off of two years of dependency on a drug to maintain his happiness that is now just... gone.

The two tussle, and another seizure strikes. It's too much for Bashir to handle in Garak's quarters, and so they end up in the Infirmary, again, where Julian tries to solve the issues of Garak's continued degradation.

And after all that... Bashir still wants to help. Garak, now calmer, listens in on the conversation. He decides to share yet another version of the story, sprinkling in some crumbs that Bashir can choose to follow—or not.

"You've done enough, doctor. More than I deserve."

But what I find incredible about this conversation, is how Garak emphasizes that he deserved his exile for what he did to his best friend. Now, anyone who's seen the whole series knows Elim and Garak are one.

But who is Garak's best friend now? Has Garak ever had a best friend? Someone he could count on?

"Why are you telling me this, Garak?" "So that you can forgive me. Why else? I need to know that someone forgives me."

The weight of this. Yes, yes. I know they're about to hold hands and be all sweet about it. But that last line is important. Because in Season 5's "In Purgatory's Shadow" Garak tells Bashir how he'd hoped Tain—the most important relationship in his life—could forgive him.

There is only one other person whose forgiveness holds weight with Garak—and that's Julian. Julian places his hand in Garak's, and Garak holds on, holding the human's gaze.

"I forgive you... for whatever it is you did."

This. Is. Art. The pause. The shrug! There's so much going on here. Because Julian is intimating he doesn't believe he knows the whole truth, even now, while still offering the absolution Garak seeks.

"Thank you, Doctor. That's most kind."

Bashir used this word at their first meeting. Kind. Not a special word, in any fashion, but it struck me hearing it again, here, said by the other party.

Garak has been pushing Julian away throughout the day, but here he invites him in, a little. We went from "Don't touch me" to an outstretched hand. We went from him deflecting Julian to offering him the breadcrumbs needed (where to find Tain, information on just how dangerous Tain is) just in case Julian can pull this off.

Julian smiles at Garak as he fades off, exhausted, tired. And then Bashir shifts into "get shit done" mode.

"Still, what you did was very brave. I'm impressed... Are all the Starfleet Lieutenants as brash as you are?"

Tain, your son chose a good man—brave and true.

"Tell me, Doctor. How sick is Garak?" "He's dying." "And you're trying to save him." "That's right." "Strange. I thought you were his friend." "I suppose I am."

Now, we can speculate that Bashir is saying what he needs to say to get what he needs from Tain. But, we could also conclude that Garak is dying, so what's the harm in admitting they're friends at this point?

"Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak a life in exile is no life at all." "Say what you will. My job is to keep him alive. And I need your help."

And we're back in Doctor mode. It worked on Odo, so it might work here, right?

"Doctor... Elim is Garak's first name."

Bashir had been holding his own against Tain rather well until this point, but that reveal rocked him a bit. Even what he thought he understood from Garak's stories is now meaningless. "Just plain Garak", eh?

But, I think it's Garak's way of separating the parts of himself and who he is. Yes, he did terrible things. Yes, he also did good things. The Cardassian is as morally grey as they get on this show. Compartmentalization is logical for one forced to endure exile while pondering past predicaments that sealed one's fate.

At lunch, a pondering Bashir twirls his fork.

"So, how's the Idanian Spiced Pudding?" "How's the spiced pudding?! Is that all you have to say for yourself!?"

Love Siddig's read on that first bit. It makes me laugh every time. He's so indignant! So frustrated.

"I, for one, Doctor, am perfectly satisfied with the way things turned out. And I see no need to dwell on what was doubtlessly a difficult time for both of us."

Say it with me, folks: "There's an us here, now".

"Here. I brought you something." "What is it? ... More Cardassian literature." "I think you'll find this one more to your tastes."

This time, he isn't using it as a divergence. This is a thank you. This is him inviting Bashir in even closer than before. No, he still won't speak in full-truths. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how.

But while Bashir didn't enjoy the first book, he realizes that Bashir's openness to trying more isn't out of some weird ideology, but because he is invested in Garak and wants to understand him better.

The trauma of what they just weathered will endure—but so will the bond they strengthened in the flames.

"You know, I still have a lot of questions to ask you about your past." "I have given you all the answers I am capable of."

And, you can almost believe him, there.

"You've given me answers, alright, but they were all different. What I want to know is of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't."

Did you note Bashir's hands? This is how he tried to place his hands the first time he met Garak, when he got caught up in the plant, when he was completely flustered.

But Julian's tone is different from any other time they've had this conversation. Partially because he is now privy to information (Garak's first name) that Garak doesn't know he's learned.

I love the detail that now that he is on a closer-to-equal footing with the Cardassian, he can place his hands like this and pull it off without effort. It says something about his character coming along, I think.

"My dear Doctor, they're all true." "Even the lies?" "Especially the lies."

Julian smiles at his friend, shaking his head as he does.

It's one of my favorite Garashir episodes, not just for the incredible writing, directing, and performances—but for how it pushes their relationship forward.

Though Julian still has questions, he has a little more to go on—and while that little may not seem significant, it is for Garak. And I think some part of Bashir knows it.

They won't see each other again until Season 3. Now, the Garak seen in "The Search" doesn't even technically exist. He's not a part of the team whose minds are hooked up to a Matrix-like simulation. But that leads me to wonder—whose version of Garak is he?

Was this version of Garak programmed in for their enjoyment? Or is he an amalgamation of their perceptions? Also, since Bashir was one of those under sedation, his reactions to Garak were real, regardless of if Garak himself was.

So, let's talk a little about how this plays out for our beloved Garashir with the understanding that Garak's characterization is coming from somewhere, but we know not where. What we do know is that Bashir's responses are 100% real.

"Doctor! Welcome back!"

Alright, maybe this should've been the first clue that something was off—what the hell is Garak doing!? He's just puttering around at some weird computer for no apparent reason, pining and waiting for his beloved to return.

"Business keeping you busy?" "The tailoring business? Or the spy business? Joking, of course." "Of course."

Bashir is beaming like he's having the time of his life. 'And he is flirting. While we don't know who dreamt up this version of Garak, we know he's got the attention of the Doctor!

"I've missed you. I've been genuinely concerned for your safety. Lunch hasn't been the same without you."

Alright. Now I'm going for Bashir-influenced headcannon because dude, that is boyfriend-level dialogue I wouldn't expect from the usually close-vested Cardassian.

Is this what Julian wants from Garak? Is this what the Changelings think Garak would say to Bashir? Whichever it is, it's revealing of either how Julian sees his relationship with Garak or how the outside world views them. Neither is particularly straight. Just sayin'.

"That's very kind of you to say so, Garak."

Because he wouldn't say it, honey. But I definitely think you want him to. And don't think I missed you slipping the "kind" in there, again.

"I'm afraid you have a loose thread right here." ... "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying yourself, Garak." "Oh, not at all, Doctor, but after years of hemming women's dresses, a little action is a welcome change of pace."

Again, this is a simulation. But, clearly someone thinks Garak will take the side of the Federation in all this, and that he will very often be by the side of his favorite Doctor.

But, also, damn, Julian is flirty today! Like, "Having fun, darling?" Tell me I'm not the only one hearing it!

"I have them! I have them. By all means, Commander, do as they say." "Garak." "Now, you heard me Doctor." ... "You see, I pretend to be their friend and then I shoot you."

Again, whoever's idea of Garak this is, it's very revealing. Yes, he appears to turn on the Federation crew... before choosing their side.

"It's just something I read once in a book." "I'm sure."

But Garak here is far too foolish, engaging in flirtation with Julian when he should have been paying attention.

Real Garak wouldn't have gotten shot, here. He would've been too focused on the mission. Real Garak always saves his quips for after the danger has passed. But Julian thinks this is real Garak... and Garak goes down.

"Garak! Garak."

Julian rushes to his side, grabbing ahold of him.

"Doctor, I'm afraid I won't be able to have lunch with you today."

As Garak slumps, so, too, does Julian. Sisko grabs ahold of Julian, pulling him away, but it takes a few seconds for Bashir to be able to look away. Is Garak dead? Are they leaving him to die?

Remember, this is all a simulation. But for Julian, this is real. He held his friend as he died. His last words were to him—a sad farewell to their future.

Sisko's tugging him, but Jadzia pushes him, too. A part of Julian is trapped there, on that floor, fused to Garak in a way that Julian hadn't considered. But there's no time for mourning.

Yes, it's all just a simulation. Julian will lunch with Garak, again. And he does on-screen, only a few weeks later.

"There you are, Garak!" "Ah!" "I went past your shop, but it was closed."

And there Garak sits, at their table. Yes, they eat other places, but this is their spot.

"How was your trip to Klaestron IV?"

Aw! They know about each other's trips and movements. They care about one another.

"Garak, you're being paranoid. Are you saying the Cardassian government would have you killed if you left this station?" "My dear doctor, you do have a vivid imagination."

And Bashir is frustrated with Garak, again, but merely noneplussed, not upset. Also, in comparison to last episode this sounds like Garak, again. Weaving half-truths, not answering a straight question with a straight answer. Welcome back, buddy!

"Oh, good evening, Doctor. If you're finished here, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a late snack."

Ah, yes, the classic excuse of using food as an excuse to be together. Food is necessary to life, yet? Even snacks can be life-sustaining at times. Hell, as a breast-feeding mother, I felt like I had to eat 24/7.

He wants to tell only Julian, but ends up having to talk to Sisko. Sorry, Garak. I know it's a lot more fun to talk to the human you want to sleep with than the one you don't.

But then he learns—higher ups want him off the station. Not only would that kill him because of Tain's orders, but it would also mean no more snacking with (and dreaming of snacking on) the handsome human Doctor.

"The Quarters on this vessel are rather claustrophobic."

Now, this might be a deflection, but I bring it up because back in "The Wire" he mentioned how cramped the Infirmary felt. Are these breadcrumbs of his claustrophobia? Happy accidents? We'd have to ask one of the writers to know for sure!

"Garak, do you know a way we can stop this neurocine gas?" "The only way to do that is to destroy the life support system."

I love this. Because Julian is the one to ask, he offers the answer, and Bashir's the only one to truly get it the first time through.

Is this because of his superior intellect? Because he understands Garak better than any of the others do? Hard to know, but our dear would-be lovers are definitely shown as being in sync.

"Well, tell me, Doctor, what it is exactly about this situation that's making you smile." "You, Garak."

Garak felt his darling's stare and looked to meet his eyes. In another situation, he might've flirted instead of demonstrated confusion. And while the Cardassian doesn't really fluster, it's one time where I feel like the Doctor has caught him off-guard.

I mean, we all love to see our crush smiling at us for no reason... but Julian's timing really sucks ass.

"Hmm?" "Just wondering how many other tailors can rewrite Cardassian security protocols." "I wouldn't even venture a guess. Which reminds me, those pants you wanted altered are ready to be picked up."

Julian chuckles at Garak's change of subject—well aware, by this point, that his Cardassian friend thinks he's slick. But, ooph, there's a flirty tone to Julian in this exchange.

And don't think Garak misses it. Oh, no! It's just his hands are a bit full of Cardassian security protocols, at the moment, so the handsome Doctor will have to wait.

Also, the Yank-who-lived-in-England in me is dying laughing. While to us Americans, Garak is talking about two-legged garments that typically reach from hip to ankle, that's the American definition of "pants".

For Brits, pants refer to "underpants". So, while the writer most likely meant the former, my brain goes to the latter and has to chuckle along with Julian.

Of course Garak would like to see Julian's underpants, again (c'mon... no way he waited outside Bashir's quarters in "Cardassians" while he dressed!). But the fact that Julian is taking advantage of Garak's services is also intriguing—does he pay in Latinum? Or does he pay... in other ways?

Alright, fine. I'll stop imagining and get back to the task at hand.

"Garak groveling in a corner. That alone makes my trip worthwhile." *Garak straightens* "Garak!" "Easy, Doctor."

In real-world time, it's only been a few weeks since Julian thought he lost Garak in the simulation. He doesn't want to lose him, again.

"I should have executed you years ago." "Oh, you tried, remember?" "Garak. This isn't helping."

Julian holds Garak's gaze, though we don't know Garak's response. But this is such a lover thing to do—hold one another accountable in a moment of high-stress.

It feels like there's some exchange we miss between them based on how long it takes Julian to look to Jadzia, but I don't mind that. I don't mind that we miss it. What matters is that we knew it happened.

It will be months before we see these two together on-screen again, and Garak must not hold that last exchange against Julian because he comes bearing gifts. That's right! It's Julian's 30th birthday episode.

"Well, if you like, I can help you set up an exercise program in one of the holosuites."

Escalating the relationship, again, I see. But, truly, we've gone from lunch once a week to trusting one another in tight places, to Julian frequenting the tailor's for alterations of trousers (seriously, Jules, just ask the replicator for shorter legs! We all know it's pretense to see your favorite Cardassian between nibbles).

Now, they're considering holosuite dates. Yup. That's how I'm going to look at it through my delusional glasses! Holosuite dates.

"Speaking of holosuites..."

I want to ravish you on Risa. Not what he said? Okay, fine, I'll get back to proper transcription.

"Happy birthday."

Is there a ribbon on that!? Elim Garak, you wrapped your pet human's present!?

"I know it's a few days off, but I wanted to give you your present early."

Y'all, the former spy and ruthless mind whose morals vascilate between dark grey and light great is a sweetie! And, frankly, Julian is a bit of an ass.

Did your parents never teach you to politely say, "Thank you"? Not, "I'm not into this because it's not my thing and it's not any fun" but a simple fucking thank you when the love of your life attempts to be thoughtful.

He even knew you liked mystery novels and tried to find something he thought you'd enjoy! Sure, it was a swing and a miss, but you didn't have to be that dismissive of the lizard!

At the same time... my reaction to the time my husband gave me a dolphin kite for my birthday (no, I have no idea how he got there, either) wasn't the best. So, I'll forgive you, Julian... for now.

"Is Lieutenant Dax throwing one of her surprise parties for you this year?" "Oh, so I'm told." "Well, you don't sound enthusiastic about that, either."

You freakin' cunning lizard. You accurately deduced that your darling Doctor's reaction wasn't entirely directed at the subject matter of the holosuite program, but something else entirely.

But rather than ask outright, the old spy pokes and prods to get to the point. Wow, who ever thought I'd write that sentence about this two and not mean it in inuendo!? Not me!

"I wasn't aware that humans saw growing old as a negative experience. On Cardassia, advanced age is seen as a sign of power, dignity."

There's some heat to this statement. Like, "Darling, I'm right here and you're not jumping on this powerful, dignified Cardassian?! What's wrong with you!?"

"And, look, Garak, in two days I turn 30. If I choose to be grumpy about it, that's my prerogative."

Garak supports however Julian wants to feel about it, and it feels very much spousal, this whole conversation. Like, "Whatever you say, darling". So, when Quark comes into the middle of the conversation, Julian has to shift out of spouse mode and back to Doctor mode.

"I hope you'll forgive the interruption." "Of course."

That was to Garak... why the hell was that to Garak? And why did Garak automatically respond as if this was the most normal thing in the world?

Is this still because of what Garak did to help Quark's old flame? Is this because Quark failed to obtain the merchandise when Garak's implant degraded? Or is it because Quark's smart enough to notice when Garak is out with his boyfriend and doesn't wish to be disturbed?

"Goodbye, Quark." "Don't take it personally. He's turning 30."

Get. A. Room. You. Two. Julian glares at his husband, and I try to contain my giggles.

Look, I've heard they were told to tone down the Garashir at some point in the show. I don't know when that occurred, but I can tell you that these two are still steaming with chemistry and attraction.

"Garak!" "Doctor! What are you doing here?"

And just like the first time around with Garak not really being here, it's someone else's idea of who Garak is to Bashir. And this version of Garak is very handsy. So, once again, someone saw these two and thought, "Yup. Banging."

"I'll meet you back on the Promenade in half an hour. Be careful." "You, too."

Look, this probably wasn't intentional—or maybe it was, who the hell knows!?—but the way their hands linger as they pass off the equipment has me going feral. Because this is all in Julian's head.

It could just be that Siddig's fingers got stuck passing it off to Robinson and they're both so damn professional that they just kept going. But, shipper-girl likes to imagine there was some feeling in those fingers.

"I'm a part of you, remember? I know what you know. Well, maybe a little more." "Still the man of mystery?" "Oh, you wouldn't have me any other way."

Look, we will find out that this isn't a part of Julian, but an extension of the attack. But Julian is still flirting hard. Even in his mind, he wants to flirt with the Cardassian!

"I did some checking on Letheans. Their telepathic attacks are almost always fatal. I guess I was lucky." "Cardassians don't believe in luck, Doctor. You survived because you're strong."

And we can get into the debate about Julian's genetic enhancements and whether that played a part. But at this moment, Garak is simply impressed and Julian is grateful.

"One thing's for sure, you know, after experiencing life at a hundred plus, turning 30 doesn't seem that bad anymore." "In that case, happy birthday."

Bashir gratefully inclines his head to Garak, no longer grumpy about the big day.

"You know, Doctor, what I find most fascinating about this entire incident is how your unconscious mind chose people you know to represent the various parts of your personality... And what I find interesting is how your mind ended up casting me as the villain."

Julian searches for words. I don't think even he knew if it was truly him or the Lethean who cast Garak in the role.

"Oh, I wouldn't read too much into that, Garak." "Oh, how can I not?"

And Garak seems to assume that Julian's mind painted him as the villain, but I really think it was the Lethean who made that choice.

He needed it to be someone who Bashir would keep close through the whole ordeal, and they definitely came off couple-y in that opening scene!

"To think, after all this time, after all our lunches together, you still don't trust me... There's hope for you yet, Doctor."

Garak leans forward, grabbing onto Julian's forearm. And a coy smile spreads across Julian's face. That's the Garak he knows.

Only a few short weeks later, we've transitioned from Julian's complaints about Cardassian literature and mysteries to Garak's issues with Shakespeare.

I can hear my English and Drama teaching husband cringing from here. He is still amazed by my ability to perform iambic pentameter while still struggling to understand why it exists in the first place.

"But I'm sorry, Doctor. I just don't see the value of this man's work." "But, Garak, Shakespeare is one of the giants of human literature."

Oh, how the table has turned (well, Garak didn't knock this one over, yet, but you know what I mean). For so long, Julian simply hasn't connected with Cardassian literature—despite his tries! And now Garak is having the same issue in reverse.

And, of course, the Garashir conversation is set up for what is yet to come. They talk about a great military man who couldn't see what was going on right under his own nose... hmmm.

And I'm worried Siddig is going to barf. If you pay attention to most scenes where actors eat, then tend to take small bites/sips if any at all. That's because this scene that takes minutes to watch takes hours and hours to shoot.

I'm uncertain if Deep Space 9 ran an A Camera and B Camera simultaneously, but even then, there are so many takes to get what will satisfy a director, most times.

So, every time Julian had to stuff his face. And that means poor Siddig had to scarf down that food over and over and over, again.

"Oh, you're fortunate. I have more time on my hands than I know what to do with." "Maybe you could finish those trousers I dropped off last week."

Hah! I am cackling with glee. A little while back I mentioned the whole US/UK pants/trousers thing without any remembrance that Bashir says "trousers" here. Yup!

Unless there was a special case... don't think Julian would need Garak to alter his Starfleet-regulation underwear. Now, is there was something special he wanted only for Garak's eyes, that's another thing entirely.

"You're going to give yourself indigestion."

Garak, you and I are on the same page!

"If you hadn't been so late, I could have enjoyed my lunch."

Awww. He waited until his boyfriend arrived to get his food! That's so sweet of him. Even if he's throwing it in Garak's face now.

"I have to go, and I'm sorry to leave you while you're still eating." "No, no. I'm done as well." "But you've hardly touched your plate!" "If you must know, I've been nibbling on Delavian chocolates all morning."

Babe, why are you standing so close to your human companion? This is one of those things I tried to point out to my husband early about Garashir—they tend to stand like personal space doesn't exist.

Of course, he pulled out the "It's 4:3 framing" argument because Deep Space 9 aired at a time when televisions were still literal boxes that you tried desperately not to knock over while adjusting the bunny ears to get the channel to clear up.

But then I showed him a couple scenes where the aspect ratio should have zero bearing on that kind of blocking that puts them in kissing distance, and he had to admit... they like to get up close and personal!

"Where did you get Delavian chocolates?"

And the tone completely shifts. We can infer that these are a delicacy, and something that Bashir likes, as well. For all their disagreements on literature, it seems that chocolates are their shared interest.

Julian, a moment ago quite peturbed, is now all smiles and intrigued at the idea of sharing in a chocolate or two with the Cardassian.

"Well, I promised my supplier I wouldn't tell, but since I deprived you of your dessert, I'd be more than happy to bring some by the Infirmary later this afternoon." "Why, thank you, I'd like that." "Until then, Doctor."

Garak inclines his head toward Julian, which we've seen him do before. And while Bashir has answered in kind, it has never been as enthusiastic as this time. Every ounce of annoyance he possessed seconds earlier is gone.

There's something so domestic about that. Matthew and I can have a disagreement, and then one of us makes the other laugh so loud it melts away.

"Are you alright?"

Garak lies on the ground, and while I suspect some of his reaction is well-practiced and conceived for the purpose of his mission, Julian doesn't know that. He leans across the Cardassian, then starts a quick check of essential points.

"But I'm afraid your pants won't be ready tomorrow after all."

Ah, yes, the reminder that he's a simple tailor. But why would someone blow up a simple tailor's shop?

"Could this attempt on your life have anything to do with the reason you were exiled from Cardassia?"

There's something so perfect about this question directed to Garak as Julian is out-of-frame, only his hands working on Garak to remind us he's there. Sure, Julian doesn't know the full truth, but he knows more than they do.

And that means Julian never told anyone what Garak told him. Oh, you two are just building and building your trust, aren't you?

Julian waits until the others leave to hand Garak a mirror to inspect himself, to open his mouth, to say anything at all.

"Someone should do a study." "A study?" "To try and figure out why some people can't bring themselves to trust anyone even if it's in their own best interest."

I like the way Garak looks up when Bashir says "anyone". Because, he does trust Julian far more than he should, far more than he thought he would allow himself to.

But a lifetime of lies is difficult to abandon. No, it's his security blanket wound so tight around him he struggles for breath, but will never admit it.

"Why is it no one ever believes me even when I'm telling the truth?"

And Julian launches into more American literature... a children's story. He hopes it will get through, but the secondary interpretation of the classic Boy Who Cried Wolf only supports their entirely different views on literature.

Julian hopes Garak will learn to trust people instead of lying so much they don't believe him. But the practiced spy has already demonstrated his viewpoint during "The Wire" when the story kept changing—never tell the same lie twice.

"I am not Doctor Bashir and we are not sparring amiably over lunch-"

Well, everyone seems to know about these lunches, don't they? Now, of course Odo would keep an eye on everyone, but I still rather love this call-out.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Garak." "So do I." "Is there anything you need me to do while you're gone?" "Like what?"

Water your plants. Walk the dog. Plan our wedding.

"If you go into my quarters and examine the bulkhead next to the replicator, you'll notice there's a false panel. Behind that panel, there's a compartment containing an isolinear rod. If I'm not back within 78 hours, I want you to take that rod and eat it."

Woah. I mean, I thought I was going a little too far with the wedding planning, but apparently not. I mean, if Garak's gonna be out here in public telling Bashir to eat his rod, the wedding bells might be a-ringin' soon after all!

"Eat it?" "Mmm." "You're joking." "Yes, Doctor. I am." "Very funny." "I thought so."

Gosh, the staging of this is so interesting. Julian is usually a hair taller than Garak, but with Garak up a step, he's towering over Julian. It somehow doesn't make Julian look small, but it does cast a different light over his face as he's forced to look up at the Cardassian.

"Then these are for you." "Dalavian chocolates. But these were meant for you." "I know. I thought you might need them more than I do."

And, finally, they've found a gentle love language between them—chocolate. Literature exchanges lead to rigorous debate, sure. And fun as that foreplay has always been, there's something so soft about this moment.

"Thank you."

Garak says it as softly as he's ever said anything. Julian came here to see him off, to give him a parting gift, to be the closest friend he's probably ever had. What started out as a hopeful hookup has become a relationship that will transcend the borders of convention the more it grows.

"Good luck." "Hmm."

And while Garak doesn't believe in luck, he doesn't take the moment to remind him. Instead, he carries that bit of sweetness with him as he walks the rest of the way through the threshold.

I tend to think Julian is the one thing he misses when he leaves the station behind. The shop is his cover, and he happens to be well-skilled at it, like he is a great many things. But we already know that living on that station is torture.

Julian is the one thing that makes him truly smile, truly feel. When he's with Julian, they debate, they banter, they argue, they laugh, they go through the range of emotions and form new connections and bonds.

But, still, his heart is forever Cardassia's. We'll get to that more later...

"He hides his true feeling almost as well as you do, Elim."

A rare compliment.

"Like I used to say, 'Always burn your bridges behind you. You never know who might be trying to follow."

Hmmm. And Garak decidedly does not burn his bridges when he says goodbye at the end of the series. So, might a certain Doctor follow? Eh, getting ahead of myself, again!

"Well, I suppose Garak has taught me to think of lunch as a sort of arena for philosophical debate."

Julian and Miles are best friends, no doubt! But Julian and Garak are friends, too, just different.

I have friends I can get into deep philosophical debates with. Hell, my husband is the one who gets the bulk of it! And it seems that it's dawning on Julian that he has a different type of friendship with Garak than he does with anyone else in his life.

It's not a grand acknowledgement of romance, but it's a start. Too bad his future partner is busy abandoning him for his fucked up father. And, yes, wanting to go home is a powerful thing.

But home is often more than a place. Garak hasn't gotten there, yet. And maybe he never will fully grasp that concept. After all, it's different when you're forced from your home than when you leave of your own volition.

Back to Julian, his looks whistfully to the table. Ugh, he misses Garak. He has come to expect and enjoy their banter.

"I take it there's still no word about Garak and Odo?"

Julian doesn't know that the word is bad. Honey, your BFF is off in the stars with his manipulative, narcissistic father and choosing his true home over you.

Poor Bashir just wants to know his friend—oy, we are stretching the meaning of that word, here—is okay.

The word from Miles isn't helpful, and the Chief departs without another word to his friend. Julian looks to the table, dejected and concerned.

But he doesn't know how much Garak longs for the approval of Tain—his father. And as someone who grew up with a co-dependent, narcissistic parent... I get it. I was in my 30's before I fully broke free. I don't think Garak ever did.

"The Founders? You want to go home to the Founders? But I thought you turned your back on them!" "I did. But they're still my people. I tried to deny it. I tried to forget."

And Garak cradles his head in his hand as the Changeling returns to his true form. He did his duty to torture Odo to extract information—but that glee that Tain described earlier simply isn't there.

Yes, Garak is good at what he does. He's clever. But there's a difference between doing what you think you must do and wanting to do it.

For the first time, we really have to wonder what Garak truly wants. He has always sworn allegiance to Cardassia and to the State. He has repeatedly chosen what he thought best for Cardassia, even if it wasn't what was best for him.

But is he the same Cardassian he was? Was he ever who Tain wanted him to be? And you might think, "What the fuck does this have to do with Garashir!?" But, for Garak, his heart and allegiances will always tear him from Julian.

"What could have happened?!" "I'm afraid the fault, dear Tain, is not in our stars but in ourselves." "What!?" "Something I learned from Doctor Bashir."

And there he is, quoting the Shakespeare he so recently quarreled over with Julian.

"Welcome back." "Oh, that looks painful."

I was just thinking we weren't going to see Julian's reaction to them coming aboard, and there he is, ready and waiting. Just as he saw Garak off, he's the one who is there to receive him.

Garak stumbles a little as he walks, holding onto the railing on the wall. Then, he stumbles right into Julian as the Defiant takes fire.

Later, Garak returns to the wreckage of his shop. When he blew it up, he didn't know if he would return. Now, he has nothing on Cardassia, and he also has nothing here.

And in an absolutely stunning shot, we see Odo standing in the doorway, in the reflection, almost a reflection of Garak himself in that they both wish they could go home, but both find themselves, again, on this station—though for different reasons.

"Garak, I was thinking that you and I should have breakfast together sometime."

I include this because everyone knows Julian is Garak's lunch date. Even in this moment, Julian's somehow a part of it.

And that stunning shot is nearly two minutes long. Two minutes of continuous camera on Robinson, displaying, yet again, what a tremendous performer he is. And it's simply too beautiful a shot not to mention. Brava/Bravo to whoever conceived and executed it.

That's the end of Garak in Season 3. Though they waste no time in bringing him into Season 4! We meet him, again, in the first episode of Season 4.

"What I can't understand is their inexplicable hostility toward me... Perhaps they decided they just didn't like me." "Not like you. Impossible." "You're right. As always, Doctor."

Is it bad that my first thought watching this scene was, "Well, Julian certainly knows how to get Garak on his back anytime he wants"? Probably. But, this blatant flirting is the fun bit. And the only bit we get of the two of them, though Garak has some delicious stuff this episode.

It would be eight aired episodes later before Garak and Bashir see one another, again, but, oh, what a fun one that is!

"Who's that?" "An uninvited guest. Excuse me."

The applause has me rolling. Like, "Very good, Doctor. Excellent performance. This for sure will convince them you're straight!"

Julian crosses over the body on the floor, past the shattered glass to where Garak watches, wearing his own smart tuxedo.

"Nice tux." "Thank you." "Now, get out!"

I love that even though he is pissed at Garak, right now, he still can't miss the opportunity to compliment him.

"Ever since you received this new program you spend virtually every free hour in the holosuite. But you haven't told anyone what the program is."

His delivery on that last bit is so delicious. There's a point to every word, like a sharp edge as he takes in the ridiculous, over-the-top nature of this supposed spy tale.

"Am I supposed to?" "No, no. No. But you're such a, forgive me, a talkative man and it's so unusual for you to have secrets."

I love how he reaches out to clutch Julian's forearm and doesn't let go until he finishes speaking. And, we will later find out that Julian does have a secret, though I don't know if at this point either actor knew it.

Sometimes the actor knows the big twist or big secret, like Kristen Bell and The Good Place. But other times, they don't, like Amanda Abbington in Sherlock.

It can change up how you play something as a performer. Sometimes it's for the better, and sometimes not. It's another two seasons before Siddig beautifully monologues about Julian's childhood.

But did the writers know? Like in Sherlock, there are plenty of cases where the Writers know something and haven't yet told the actors. Happens more often than you can think! It's one of those cases I truly wonder and wish I had an answer.

"I must have picked up that habit from you."

Flirting, again, Julian!? Are you hoping it'll appease him and he'll leave you be?

"Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Julian steps over the body, but Garak steps with him.

"Is this fantasy of yours truly revealing of your inner psyche?"

Did I fall in love with a total dork, Bond-wannabe? Seriously, there's a touch of disbelief in his tone.

"What?" "Is that why you're so protective?"

Garak steps closer to Julian—far closer than needed. My husband has brought up the "It was 4:3, they had to stand close together!" argument before, but when I showed him this one, he just laughed and shook his head.

This is boyfriend space. This is, "I'm gonna kiss you if you let me" space.

"Are you afraid that I'll find out some humiliating secrets of the real Julian Bashir?" "This is a fantasy. I'm not hiding anything." "Well, if you've nothing to hide, why not let me stay?"

Somehow, Garak still finds a way to talk with his hands without brushing Julian's chest—which, let's be real, is totally on his mind at all times—and Julian keeps his eyes locked on Garak's.

Garak notes Julian's lack of quick response and quirks his head to the side, a smile crossing his features. He knows he's got him where he wants him.

He once interrogated a man by staring at him for hours. Now, those same eyes turn puppy-dog as he entices his human bae to let him get his way. And Garak gets his way.

"All right." "Ah."

And the Bond girl wannabe is pissed. Not only is she not getting laid, now she has to compete for the sexy man's attention with a dashing Cardassian.

"Now, I have to be at work in two hours, and I'd like to enjoy myself, so keep quiet and don't rain on my parade."

That last bit is pointed. This is like when I have to remind Matthew not to make fun of me for watching super cheesy Christmas movies at Christmastime. I'm so stressed with work and family drama that I need something that just makes me smile.

Julian needs his would-be hubby to be chill so he can have some much-needed fun that doesn't require him to be everything he is. For a little while, he wants to be something he isn't just to unwind.

Gosh, I feel that. So, c'mon, Garak, let your boytoy have his fun.

"Parade?" "Nevermind." "Don't worry, Doctor. I can be very discreet. You'll barely know I'm here."

Are you thinking you're going to watch him have sex? Like, just how discreet do you need to be right now!? But, even though the Earth-ian reference went over Garak's head, he has committed to this, now. The Cardassian is along for the ride.

"She seemed so interested in your advances just a moment ago. I wonder what scared her away."

Julian and I have the same thought: Really Garak!? As if you don't know what scared her off?

"Oh, no. I do apologize."

Now, in another version of this show, Julian would realize that the reason that things just keep not working out with him with other people—virtual or otherwise—is that he's got it bad for a certain lizard man.

"You must be incensed! In fact, if I were in your shoes, I'd grab a bottle of champagne, and shoot me." "I can see I'm going to regret this."

First off, Garak's interpretation of Bond films isn't too far off my own circa 1990's era Bond. Also, way to be transparent about your kinks, Garak!

Now, Julian could just rescind the permission to hang out, but he doesn't. Why not? I don't think he's worried about being rude to the Cardassian. Perhaps, though, he wants to prove to himself that he has nothing to hide.

Garak claps a hand on Julian's shoulder as they walk.

"Don't worry, Doctor. We're going to have a wonderful time. After all, what could possibly go wrong?"

Classic line, here. Famous last words. If ever you're watching a movie or television show and someone utters a "what's the worst that can happen?" or "what could possibly go wrong?" just know—the worst is about to happen and everything is going to go wrong.

"You live here?" "That's right." "Decorate it yourself?" "The decor is appropriate for the period—1964."

I love how much fun Garak is having with this. He's taking it all in and soaking it all up. This place is far more cluttered than Bashir's quarters in real life, which Garak broke into and probably memorized in case he ever needed to plant something on the unsuspecting Doctor.

"I think I joined the wrong intelligence services."

It's so nice to be so far beyond Garak having to hide his past allegiances. Yes, there's intrigue left with the ole Cardassian, but I like how casual these two are conversing.

And I love how Julian is lounging. Maybe it's his character. Maybe it's simply the way he sits on a couch like this. Who knows!? But, is suggests an openness and swagger that isn't forced like his earlier characterizations, but simply an extension of who he is.

"Yes, this should do nicely. Though I'm not too sure about the collar." "It's perfect."

I have so many questions. Look, Holodeck stuff has always been a little fuzzy to me. Like, did they replicate some clothing? Or did they ask the system to assign them new clothing? Can they wear these clothes off the holodeck?!

And if these are completely new clothes, would this mark the first time Julian's seen the Cardassian in a state of undress? We know Garak woke Julian in his jammies, once, and that he's fitted him for trouser alterations at least twice. But there's been no opportunity for Julian to see Garak in a state of undress until now.

Also, this is such a spousal exchange. Garak is the one fussing over his attire and aching for perfection, while Julian is the assuring one, telling him that he looks fine.

"Very funny."

Aw, nice to see the return of this phrase from Julian. But, no, honey, this isn't a joke. Garak really isn't trying to rain on your parade.

"You're bleeding." "The Holosuite safeties must be off."

Ever the Doctor, Julian's concerned about his favorite patient before he has to save another life.

"Try to stay cool, Mr. Bashir."

I love how as soon as not-Sisko leaves, Julian looks to Garak, who is definitely concerned about this situation.

"I'd give you both some privacy, if I could."

Garak, my love, you know you can at least turn around. No, you want Julian to know you are watching him.

"Kiss the girl, get the key. They never taught me that in the Obsidian Order."

I love how impressed Garak is with Julian. He just picked a freakin' 20th century lock! Like, that isn't an essential course at Starfleet Academy!

"Yes, they might be killed, and that is unfortunate, but there comes a time when the odds are against you and the only reasonable course of action is to quit." "Quit?" "Yes!" "Is that what they taught you in the Obsidian Order? To give up when things get tough?" "As a matter of fact, they did."

It's a real argument. And I'm one of those that thinks disagreements are healthy in relationships. Now, this exact scenario is a bit specific, but it still stands. These two were due for their first real fight.

"Don't." "Or what? You'll kill me?"

He really doesn't believe Julian will pull that trigger. Much as Garak recommended shooting him earlier, that was before the security protocols went down.

"You'll be fine. It's just a flesh wound."

And here, Garak sees that Julian can make that call. Garak told him earlier that he might have to make a hard choice, that he might not be able to save everyone. And while I don't think Garak thought he'd be the one going down, he's impressed. And all the fire of their argument has died.

"That was awfully close. What if you'd killed me?" "What makes you think I wasn't trying?" "Doctor, I do believe there's hope for you, yet." "I'm so relieved."

Garak's impressed. Garak's surprised. Garak's really turned on.

I mean, Julian's dropped his voice into this husky range he hardly ever uses, and it is working its magic on the Cardassian. If they weren't in mortal danger, he might've asked the Doctor to take him right then, right there, against the wall.

"Now, we have to get to the control room. Are you coming or not?"

And like quarrelling lovers, they don't have to discuss or announce the end of the fight. Both of them know it's over, and Garak won't be calling for the door, again.

"Well, who am I to question Julian Bashir, secret agent? Lead on!"

The way that Cardassian is looking at that Human... he wants to lick him up with a spoon. He wants him in every way and none of them clothed. He's too horny to protest the mission.

Shoot me? Oh, darling, I'm yours! Look, everyone has their kinks. No shaming Garak's!

"I'm an intelligence agent, and if there's any one thing I've learned it is that there comes a point when the odds are against you, and there is no reasonable course of action but to quit."

Oh, darling, you were listening! Seriously. That's Garak's look as he watches with pride.

"How do you think I've managed to stay alive so long when all of my compatriots are dead? It is because I have known when to walk away."

I have a somewhat photographic memory...but it isn't that good. Yes, I'm aware this is a television program, Julian has a genetically altered brain, and it's all a flight of fancy. But, it's still dang impressive.

I mean, if Garak wasn't already horny for honey, he's positively bursting with desire, now!

"I suppose the only thing left to do, now, is to kill you."

Watch how Garak responds to that, ready to leap, surprised by how steady Julian is standing, waiting for the shot. It's only a simulation, sure, but one with the safeties turned off. The good Doctor could die. And he's not running from it.

"You can leave the Holosuite, now." "Thank you."

It's another long Garashir shot. But these two seasoned pros can handle it, and they carry each beat of the scene through—from returning to the banter of who's teaching who, to their next lunch.

"Lunch tomorrow?" "Of course."

Julian's the one to broach it, signaling he'll forgo a lunch on the holodeck if it means time with Garak. Then, Garak turns it on his head, offering to return to the Holosuite with him.

This is so fucking couple-y. How many times do we go back and forth with our partner, both trying to make the other happy? Both trying to make the other feel seen, and heard, and valued?

"Oh, I think it's safe to say Julian Bashir, secret agent will return." "Mmm."

And while it's not a full minute on this shot, it's still another delightful one where these two nail blocking with no markers I can see, and remind us just how good they are.

I think this episode was important for them both. The first time Julian stood up to Garak in "Cardassians" was important. He needed to demonstrate he wasn't subservient to the Cardassian, that he was a critical thinker.

This, too, was important. Because from the moment they realized the safety protocols were disengaged, the game changed from harmless to extremely dangerous. And Garak didn't know if he could trust Julian to make the tough call.

Nothing in their relationship has ever put them in this place—where they are actually facing down death side-by-side.

When Garak chooses to save himself, it is a bit selfish, sure. He has made these choices, before, to stay alive. But once he knows that Julian is solid, he's solid.

Yes, he's horny as fuck when Julian grazes him with a projective object. But he is also impressed. If Julian was willing to shoot him, who he knows considers him a friend, then he's ready for whatever they are going to face.

Garak needed that assurance. And then when Julian was willing to let Sisko kill him if it meant saving everyone else, he got to see what a hero truly looks like. Like he said, he's no hero. But Julian just might be, at least in Garak's eyes.

The next time these two get to share a scene it's been months and... it's weird. Look, I never got the whole "Let's pair Garak with a probably-teenage girl" plan. It's creepy. It's weird. It's a fucked up plan to try to convince anyone he's straight.

Like, would he get with a woman? Sure. But that lizard wants to be with adults, please. And he's been pretty fixated on Bashir for a bit, hoping the good Doctor realizes his horizons have already widened and when he does, spreads his legs in kind.

As a girl who was 13 when this aired and who was assaulted by her grandmother's friend the year before, this just didn't play. So, maybe my perceptions are a bit colored on this one, but I just couldn't get behind it. It creeped me out.

Let's get back to flirty Garashir, shall we?

Now, we are setting up the above-mentioned quesitonable relationship. Now, my husband and father both said they always saw it as Garak wanting to take care of her in a parternal way. But as a girl, I saw it as something far seedier. Let's see what I think on this watch, shall we?

Y'know what, screw it, I'm just focusing on the Garashir. Because these two are being adorably married right now!

Garak and Bashir are doing something social besides lunch. They're attending a sporting event together! And this definitely feels like one of those things that one attends for the sake of one's spouse.

Matthew and I are blessed to have a lot of overlap in our interests, but there are times one of us is in a sitution—usually Matt—where there are definitely other things he could be doing, but his want to be with me overrides his desire to be elsewhere.

In short—Garak tagged along for his boytoy's choice of entertainment.

"Stop watching her."

Oooh, someone's jealous! Julian, darling, Garak had to watch you make out with half the senior staff. You can simmer down about him glancing at someone.

"What does she expect? She's the only Cardassian woman on the station. She's must know she's bound to attract some attention." "Some, yes. Yours, no."

Wow, Julian! Getting a bit possessive of your favorite Cardassian, are we? Or do you worry Garak's just trying to stir shit up with his favorite rival, Gul Dukat?

And that pointed look Bashir offers Garak reminds me of the last time he had to be firm with Garak (that time in front of Gul Dukat) about something. This is partner-level shit.

"I simply thought it would be polite to say hello, but clearly you don't think I'm capable of conducting any kind of pleasant discourse without some kind of nafarious ulterior motive."

Garak is getting a bit defensive and worked up about this. But, I'm focused on Julian, who is giving the, "really, now!?" look that any spouse knows well. Like, we're arguing about this now!?

And Julian gets so into Garak and giving him his full attention that he misses the big finish.

"What happened?" "A brilliant move on the part of the Major. You should have been paying attention."

Yeah, you cannot tell me Garak suddenly developed a love of the game. He did that to be bitchy because he's annoyed with his human boytoy.

Garak is used to having the upper hand in most situations. There are a few who he treats on a more equal footing—most notably Odo, Quark, and Bashir—and I find it interesting that those are the only three actors I truly think can match Robinson in skill and performance.

This is not to speak ill of any of the other performers. Not at all! But there are always standouts in any production. As mentioned before, that's how I first noticed my husband on the stage—he was mezmerizing.

Andrew Robinson is exceptional. The layers to his performance are what makes Garak really pop off the page and onto the screen. Garak was my father's favorite character of the series and he was not even a series regular, but a guest star whose impact on the show is unmistakeable.

Julian was my favorite character of the show, as mentioned before, but part of what made him thus was Siddig's performance. We'll get to some more meaty episodes for him later, but he has that defining trait of every great actor—we believe him.

So, when you put these two on-screen together, it's exciting. Even in this scene where we're setting up Garak and Gul Dukat's daughter, I can immerse myself in the relationship between these two characters because they never lose sight of all the moving pieces in the scene.

Yes, there's a sports match. Yes, we are reminding a 90's audience of who the fetching young Cardassian woman is. But there's also the interpersonal relationship between Garak and Bashir that is at play. How they relate to one another as characters informs how they react to the outside stimuli. As I said—masters.

"Garak to Doctor Bashir, I need a medical emergency team sent to my shop immediately."

There's so much at play, here. This is just expertly written. Someone who really understood Garak's character.

Annnnd, I just checked and it's Robert Hewitt Wolfe, again. Of course! But, honestly, this just encapsulates so much about Garak in about three seconds.

Yes, he is calling his darling directly and not the Infirmary. But that's not just because he thinks Bashir is cute. Let's break this down.

First off, Garak immediately reaches for Odo's combadge instead of leaving the shop to get help. That's quick thinking. Second, he called Julian directly and then asked him to send an emergency medical team to his shop.

Garak is thus reaching out to someone he knows will take him seriously, who won't ask questions, and by being vague, the Cardassian has protected Odo's privacy.

Think about it—he doesn't know where Bashir is when he calls. What if he is with a criminal who might want to take advantage of Odo being out of commission?

This is all of Garak's skills at play, here. And it's all done in about three seconds. Fucking masterful.

"As I recall, Proconsul Merrock was poisoned." "Funny, I don't remember that. But, then again, so many Romulan dignataries died unexpectedly that year." "Must be hard to keep them all straight."

Wait... is Bashir in on this? I mean, I imagine he must have some idea of why the Cardassian was allowed on the trip, right?

"Maybe we should let the Constable get some rest."

Oooh, he's got his "honey, not now" voice on! So, Julian's not in on the game. Which means a moment ago he really was getting caught up in the story, true or not.

But with that glare, he is clearly trying to silence the Cardassian. And it drips with the sexual tension between two people who are banging and look forward to some makeup sex after the argument, or two people who probably should be banging to cut through some of that sexual tension.

And after Odo dismisses him, you can hear Julian hiss out an annoyed sigh. It's not at Odo—it's at Garak. Because he's blaming Garak for winding up his patient.

So why does Bashir think Sisko allowed Garak on this mission? Out of the goodness of his heart?

"How do I look, Doctor?" "Does it matter?"

Honey, your Cardassian lover is asking you if he looks cute and you respond with does it matter?! What is wrong with you!? Tell the man he looks fashonable and kiss him full on the mouth, already.

"Then, I'll be right outside... it can wait, Garak." "Of course."

It's another case of Julian getting the upper hand with Garak—and he lets him. Oh, we all know that Garak doesn't willingly give up the upper hand unless he wants to. And he likes when Julian is the dominant one between them.

Yes, there are times when Garak likes to be the authority—always trying to teach Julian things. But theres a shift in Our Man Bashir where Garak realizes he may have a thing or two to learn from the handsome Doctor.

I think it's the one relationship in his life where he enjoys someone else being on top. *ahem* And, no, I didn't write that sentence intending the inuendo. But once it was written, it was right there!

It takes until episode 8 of Season 5 for us to see Garak, again. Julian beams onto the Runabout and does a cursory glance over the crew. His eyes hang noticeably on Garak.

No, I'm not making this up, folks. He really does linger on looking at Garak before shifting to the crew member nearest him to start scans, which is what he should do.

"Could these stimuli cause more serious injuries?" "I don't think he could spontaneously break a bone, but he could certainly stop his heart or break a key blood vessel in his brain."

What the fuck was that, Siddig!? I mean, rewatch that last bit. I know I did several times. Yes, Bashir is listing off factual information, but at the very end there is a tinge of sadness.

Because while only Garak has demonstrated this so far, it could happen to any of the four. But he's still talking solely about Garak. And he's looking right at him.

That has to be actor choice, right? That he played it with such softness and sadness while looking in the direction Garak would be.

Fun Fact: Andrew Robinson likely wasn't even in the room. The way film and television is staged, the best way to do it is to shoot out the actors you don't need. Start with the angles that need the most people and then whittle down to the shots with the fewest cast members.

So, those eyelines are often an actor looking at nothing. Even looking at nothing Siddig lends a weight to that fraction of a moment that has me kicking my feet, giddy as a schoolgirl.

Another few episodes, and we get to the episode where we have the Changeling playing Bashir.

Now, the last episode Julian was wearing the uniform the real Julian is wearing later, so I like to think that the Bashir who was so concerned about Garak was our Bashir, and that he was replaced shortly after.

Timeline-wise, that about lines up. And while we will come to know that the Bashir that Garak addresses on the Runabout isn't our man, Garak doesn't know that at the time.

"I really must remember to stop underestimating you, Doctor... You've come a long way from the naive young man I met five years ago."

A compliment. Trying to smooth things over with his darling.

"They're releasing him from isolation." "Good." "Who?" "A friend."

And as they shove him into a wall, who should look up but the real Bashir. And who does he see? Garak. I mean, look at the laser focus here. Julian's eyes don't shift once they find Garak's.

And as Julian pricks his finger for blood, it's Garak who watches with the most interest. He needs confirmation that this is his dear Doctor.

And as soon as they are reunited... they can't stay apart.

"I should never have come here. I should have let that monster die forgotten and alone." "Frankly, I'm glad you came. Misery loves company."

And Julian truly is miserable in a way he's probably never known before. But now he has one of his best friends, at least, in this darkness.

"All my life I've done nothing but try to please that man. I let him mold me, let him turn me into a mirror image of himself. And how did he repay me? With exile."

I know this doesn't seem like it's Garashir coded, but it is. And I will explain why... in two episode's time.

Look, you don't have to wait two weeks and watch a thirty second clip looking for clues! It's just a scroll or two down and I'll explain why I transcribed Garak's rant about his father.

Yes, this is a spoiler-sprinkled Meta, so if you didn't know: Tain, you are the father!

"But I forgave him. And here in the end I thought maybe, just maybe he could forgive me."

This takes me right back to The Wire and a dying Garak saying he needed to know that someone forgave him. So, we can infer that if anyone's opinion matters anywhere close to his father's to him... it's Julian's.

"I've been a fool. Let this be a lesson to you, Doctor. Perhaps the most valuable one I can ever teach you. Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all." "If that's true, it's a lesson I'd rather not learn."

Listen to the softness of Bashir's voice. Look at how he looks over Garak in that moment, clearly pitying whatever drove him to say such a thing.

And the director gives them a beat, here, where they regard one another before the moment is broken. Look how Garak pulls his head back ever so slightly and his eyes widen as he takes in Bashir's words.

There's a charge here between the actors. A moment. A beat. A breath where something is given that others might have taken.

A lesser director might have broken the moment too early. A lesser actor might have missed what was there. This is about so many factors coming together to deliver a beat that means something.

Great television isn't about awards and acclaim—it's about something undeniable on the screen that is the culmination of hundreds of folks working together to produce something that steals our breath.

You don't see the gaffers, electricians, camera folks, Production Assistants, Craft Services people, writers, directors, makeup artists, hair stylists, costumers, Directors of Photography and more that bring every second of screen to life. But you see their work without realizing how much went into it.

That beat between Bashir's line and the door opening is important. It tells us who Julian is and the lines he isn't willing to cross. This is a lesson he refuses to learn. And Garak doesn't hate him for it. No, he envies him.

Julian's optimism and can-do attitude sometimes drive Garak nuts. Garak tends to think he lives closer to reality than those who drank the Starfleet Kool-Aid (or Root Beer, as the case may be). But there are times he must think, wouldn't it be nice?

"I thought you might want to know... if you wish to speak to Tain, do it now before it's too late."

There are no words exchanged between Julian and Garak. The Cardassian looks briefly to him before taking off for the door, the human close behind.

"Everything's gone dark. I can't see you. Are you alone?"

Garak could ask Julian to leave. But he doesn't. He doesn't know what type of conversation is about to come... and yet he trusts Julian completely.

We've talked about trust and Garashir before, back on the Holodeck. Of course, Garak hasn't had many people he could trust in his life. But much as he wishes he was as hardened as his old man—he's a bit sentimental.

Sentimenal about Mila. Sentimental about Tain. And sentimental about Julian. He's even started to care for other members of the crew... but not like this. No, this is intimate. This is trust.

Garak looks back to Bashir, making it clear that he wants him there, that he needs to be silent, that he's not asking him to leave. Julian widens his eyes briefly to let Garak know the message was received.

"Yes. There's no one else but you and me."

Tain goes down his list of grievances, and Garak tells him everything's in order.

"All your enemies are dead."

He says this, again, to Julian. It feels like part of the show. Are they really all dead? Who's to say. But Garak tells Tain they are.

"Then you can die happy... unless you still consider me your enemy."

He's fishing for that apology he so desperately wants. And the view shifts to a three-shot. It's the first time we get a really good look at just how intimate this is, Julian looking on as these two men share a private conversation.

It's an interesting choice to pull out right then, right before it gets incredibly personal. The staging reminds us of just how close Bashir is to the action.

"I'll do as you ask... on one condition. That you don't ask me this favor as a mentor or a superior officer, but as a father asking his son." "You're not my son!" "Father! Father, you're dying. For once in your life, speak the truth."

Julian leans forward, taking in the new information, looking between the two of them. He's absorbing what Garak's just done—and he's realizing it's intentional. Garak purposefully let him in on one of his greatest secrets.

For all the times Julian asked for truth and found it wanting... here Garak offers it wholeheartedly.

For goodness sake, we never even saw Julian comment on Garak's first name. But Tain calls him "Elim" repeatedly, here. So, if Garak hadn't figured Julian already sussed out that little nugget, he was willingly offering that Elim wasn't a friend at all... but him.

Death beds are often a place of truth, right? But for Garak, the truths told weren't the ones he needed to hear, but the ones he wanted to tell.

"I should have killed your mother before you were born. You have always been a weakness I can't afford." "So you've told me. Many times."

And now the impact of Julian's words hit the viewers anew—Garak learned the lesson of sentimentality as weakness from his Father. He tried to pass that lesson on to the person whose opinion matters most next to Tain's—and Julian rejected it.

Bashir stopped the cycle. And I think that caught Garak off-guard. Like on the Holodeck when he admitted there were some things the Obsidian Order never taught him... he's learned something, today, from the good Doctor.

And, look, I know this is a Garashir meta, but I have to call out Andrew Robinson for this scene. It's fucking gorgeous.

We already know he is just one of the finest actors to ever grace Star Trek with his presence. But the weight of this whole scene hits so hard. The emotions. The breaths. The emphasis. The line reads. Oh, it all hits the mark.

My mother never said, "I'm proud of you" when I was growing up. I rarely saw pride on her face, even. There was always some problem, some critique, some improvement. She wanted me to be like her, and lamented when I wasn't.

She's not the same person, now, but that doesn't change the past. And in this moment with Elim and Enabran where the son hears his father utter the words that he was proud of him. Oh, it aches in a way that only those of us who grew up craving that approval and always falling short despite our best efforts can grasp.

And Robinson nails it.

Julian hears this whole exchange. He hears every word. And he only speaks after Tain has fully faded. It's a single word:

"Garak."

It's wise of the production team to keep Bashir out of this intimate exchange until after Tain dies. We don't need the distraction of seeing Julian there.

Yes, yes. I love Julian, too! But that wasn't his moment. And the way it was edited and shot was brilliant storytelling that allowed us to invest in that intimate moment before pulling back out to the continuing plot of the episode.

I seem to remember something about non-Cardassians seeing a dead Cardassian body, so it's appropriate that Garak covers Tain up before anyone else comes in—but Julian saw.

This. Is. Trust. This is family. This is an intimacy that transcends, "I wanna fuck this guy" from Episode 1. Garak wanted Julian to know him in a way that probably only his mother and father ever did.

Tain is now gone. Mila is on a planet he cannot visit. But he still has Julian. And now Julian knows one of his greatest truths. Beyond things he's done and places he's been, the truth of being known for who he is... that is truly dangerous. But Garak trusts Julian.

And though the two Klingons don't know exactly what has transpired, they do know that Julian was present as Tain died. They do know that whatever Garak had to say to Tain, Julian was present.

As much as Odo knew better than to invite Garak for lunch, I think Worf knows better than to ask why Garak would allow Julian to be present for such a thing. Really exemplifying the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" of the era.

And if you're too young to remember that particular Military Policy, I'd recommend checking out the Wikipedia entry on it, because it's pretty thorough.

By the next episode, we're all ready to learn how they get out of this one. And while the gang explains to the newcomers what needs to be done, we get treated to this adorable two-shot of Garak and Bashir.

Look, there is no reason for them to be in this cute two-shot besides the fact that they look adorable together. We trade Garak out for Worf, which isn't as cute (no offense, Michael Dorn! You're amazing!).

"You, on the other hand, my dear Mr. Garak are a man of many hidden talents." "Mmm."

Look, I know we're all on a hurtling asteroid waiting to die, but did anyone else's brain get broken by that statement?

We've had at least four "My Dear Doctor"s, but this is our first "My Dear Mr. Garak". Also, the return of "Mr. Garak" for the first time since the first episode. And my brain totally added the classic fortune cookie add-on of "in bed" to Julian's statement.

Especially with Garak's reaction? C'mon! That's a total, "you would know, dear" look!

"As of today, Cardassia has joined the Dominion."

For the brief second that Garak thinks he's going to be released, he looks back to Bashir. And the two have an entire conversation with glances.

There's the, "Is this okay? Should I go?" and the "Yes, dear, go!" and the "Alright. I'm going". And I can't help wondering if this was in the script.

This one owes its existence to Ira Steven Behr and (of course) Robert Hewitt Wolfe. So, one of them could tell us, of course! But it's one of those moments that is so amazing, but really could have come from anywhere.

An actor making a choice. A director spotting an opportunity. A writer making a point.

Wherever it came from, I love it. We don't see what Worf thinks about this possibility because we don't need to. Garak and Bashir have the conversation without words and say all that needs to be said and heard.

Side Note: Before we get into the first "Garak in the wall" scene, I have to call out Alexander Siddig (again) for how fucking dead-eyed he is as the Changeling. Like, one shot and I'm reminded that this is not our Julian and that fucker needs to die. Oy vey!

"Garak? How's it coming along?"

I love that Julian is the one who opens the door. Julian is the one who keeps the path out open. Julian is the one who sits there, calling in to Garak. And I love that he's playing with his fingernails when the scene opens.

It's those bloody details that have always stood out to me about performers. When they do something so human in the midst of all the posturing of performance. When the character becomes as real as the actor. It could just be that Siddig was annoyed by a hangnail and I'm reading too much into it, but I love it, nonetheless.

Also, the establishing shot of Garak is so gorgeous. That pan up? The full body shot so we can see that there's no room to sit, no room to rest, no room to shift into a more comfortable position.

We can visually connect with the claustrophobic nature of the setting even before we know Garak has an issue with tight spaces.

And that lighting. They found a way to make that read as a single light source in such a beautiful, believable, and stark way. We see the darkness threatening to envelop Garak if not for that blossom of lights at his face.

Yes, I know this isn't necessarily Garashir. But we need to know what this space looks like for later.

"Oh, come on!"

Julian is anxious to get Garak out of the wall, and this is before he knows about the Cardassian's claustrophobia.

They already said that Garak was taking too long because they don't want him to be caught in the wall. The guards are already asking questions, so they need to get him out.

As soon as they can get him out, Julian is there to help him stand up, holding onto him, being there for him.

"That was thoroughly unpleasant." "Are you alright?"

Until Garak takes a step back with his patented "I'm fine" lie, Julian still has hold of him with both his hands.

"It's just much hotter in there than I thought. I got a little light-headed."

Elim [No Middle Name] Garak! That didn't work before Julian had a better understanding of Cardassian biology and physiology. Do you really think you can fool him, now?

Before Garak can finish the sentence, Julian has his hands on him, again, this time checking his pulse. And I cannot recall him ever doing so this way before. Really putting his new knowledge to work!

But theres also the steadying hand on Garak's shoulder. It reminds me of him trying to put a hand on that same shoulder in The Wire and Garak shying away in his withdrawal state. Here, he doesn't move away.

"Maybe you should wait until tomorrow."

Julian's hands trail off of Garak, but they don't fall away. They glide down him before Garak allows his fear to turn to anger.

"Do you want to get off this hell hole?" "You know I do." "Then let me get back to work."

The couple-y bickering is back. And they are standing way closer than needed for this shot, 4:3 framing, indeed! But Julian is in protective mode—both the doctor in him, and the lover friend.

"Rest. For five minutes. And from here on in, you can take a 15 minute break every hour. Doctor's orders."

Garak nods. He's relenting. He's giving in. He'll take whatever break he can get and he knows Julian well enough now to know that he won't give up on him.

But look at the concern in Julian's eyes. He knows Garak isn't telling him everything. He doesn't know what Garak is concealing this time. But it's incredible how this mirrors The Wire.

In both cases, Garak is trying to conceal something about himself and lashes out at Julian when the Doctor tries to push the issue.

But this time when Julian tries to help, Garak lets him. He doesn't fully let him in. But he doesn't push him away, either.

"I'm sorry, but that's absolutely unacceptable. I'm under enough strain as it is. I can't have you quitting on me!"

There are already tears in my eyes. For anyone who has ever had a panic attack and wishes desperately their rational mind could circumvent it, this is familiar.

I've struggled with panic and anxiety attacks my entire life. But growing up, I wasn't allowed to show negative emotion. I had to learn to contain it as best I can.

But no matter how much your rational mind protests, that suffocation comes and you find yourself trapped in its grip, unable to escape. And this is another case where you can trust your actor with the material, and he's going to fucking deliver.

Robinson is talking to a dying light. He has no one to feed him anything, to offer him anything, to draw focus in case he should flub it. No, the seasoned and practiced actor monologues on a Star Trek show to a dying light and to himself.

"Your friends are nearby."

Truth. Garak speaks truth. And even if some part of him isn't willing to trust it, he closes his eyes as he internalizes it. His friends are nearby.

Because in this tight, enclosed space... there's no one to overhear. There's nobody listening. There's nobody for whom he has to perform. These words are for him and him alone. And in them he speaks of Julian and Worf as friends.

I won't transcribe the whole thing, but even from the outside, the others know something is wrong. Of course, it's Bashir who shimmies into the wall to join Garak.

"Garak, you have to stop. You're making too much noise. Garak!" "The light. The light went out."

And that's when Julian starts to put together the pieces. He sees the vacant look in Garak's eyes. He notes the sweat and strain.

"I know. Come on. I think you can take your break a little early."

Julian puts an arm around Garak, clasping his hand on the Cardassian's shoulder. And as they shimmy, Bashir's thumb grazes in a comforting manner over it.

Garak doesn't fight him. In The Wire, when Bashir tried to comfort him and touch his shoulder, he jerked away. But here, even as he is not fully himself, he allows the Doctor to care for him.

Growth. Character development. Trust.

"We have to come up with a new escape plan." "That won't be necessary."

Julian's eyes shift to Garak with immediate concern as the Cardassian stands up. He doesn't move the blanket, but allows it to slough off his body like old skin.

A similar blanket covered his father's dead body. But as Garak sits up, he rejects that fate. It isn't the defiant move of throwing the blanket away, because that's not what Garak is doing, here.

He isn't trying to be the hero. He's trying to overcome his fear long enough to save them.

Where before he might have tried to save himself, he's trying to save all of them. He could program the runabout transporter code just to get him out of there. Garak of Season 1 or 2 might've done that. But this Garak has friends—friends he wants to save.

It isn't about being the hero. It's about each of them doing what they can to help each other get out of there alive.

"I just have to finish what I started. After all, a verse about the Cardassian who panicked in the face of danger would ruin General Martok's song." "That would be unfortunate."

And while Julian is further back in the shot, I cannot help but notice the way he looks at Garak—with a touch of awe and pride.

"Now, if you'll excuse me... my dungeon awaits."

Julian and Garak exchange the briefest of glances as the former moves to open the hatch, again. They're past the point of needing words. Over and over, this episode demonstrates how far they've come on that front.

They know one another. They trust one another. They've learned when to push and when to pull back. It's an incredible foundation for a romantic relationship, right?

Season One Garak was looking for a good fuck and a little less loneliness. Season Five Garak knows the value of friends—especially his friendship with the good Doctor.

As Worf fights, likely to the death, Julian is rocking and wringing his hands on the cot as Garak works in the wall.

"Can we get him out?" "No time."

And Julian knocks twice on the wall to prepare Garak. Garak closes his eyes and steadies himself. No words needed.

"Take it to maximum warp, Garak. We've got to get a message to the station."

And he leans over Garak's shoulder as the Cardassian gets them the hell outta Dodge. What they've just endured was terrible. They may never speak of it, again. But the trust they've forged over the last five years is only deepening.

Which makes it mildly infuriating we never get the full response from Garak to Julian's big secret. Yes, he gets to tell Miles. But I want to talk about that scene a bit.

And, yes, this is what I mentioned about fathers and pride coming back around from literally two episodes earlier. Tain was a man who was rarely proud of his son, who practically disowned him to protect himself from a "weakness" that he couldn't afford.

As we mentioned, I grew up not really hearing "I'm proud of you". I never felt like I was good enough. I tried to mold myself into who I was supposed to be.

And it was my darling husband who helped me learn to stand up for myself in my 20's so by the time the children came around in my 30's I was strong enough to protect them properly from those who hurt me.

Now, we get a glimpse into what it was like to be little Julian.

"The word you're looking for is 'unnatural' meaning 'not from nature'."

Yes, we're going to get into it. Partially because it's such a fucking beautiful scene, practically a monologue, delivered by a skilled actor who didn't need a thousand cuts to get it right.

And, let me say this—sometimes a thousand cuts is just what a scene needs. But the Director deftly understood that there was strength in the stillness, here. Without a series of cuts, we can really focus on Julian (and Colm Meaney doing brilliant reaction-without-drawing-focus in the background).

"'Freak' or 'Monster' would also be acceptable. I was six. Small for my age, a bit awkward physically, not very bright. In the first grade when the other children were learning how to read and write and use the computer, I was still trying to tell a dog from a cat, and a tree from a house. I didn't really understand what was happening. I knew that I wasn't doing as well as my classmates. There were so many concepts that they took for granted that I couldn't begin to master and I didn't know why. All I knew was that I was a great disappointment to my parents."

My Middle child is Autistic, ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder, suspected Reading Processing Disorder, with Anxiety Disorder. In second grade, he was reading at a Kindergarten level. His twin excelled and he struggled.

And I, as mother, repeatedly told them (and their little sister) how proud I was of them, not for a grade on a paper but for who they were. And I meant it.

Little Julian never had that acceptance.

The Flowers for Algernon part of my brain wonders how jarring it must have been for Julian at nearly 7 to know how he'd understood the world before, and then to go through the process of seeing it anew. He transitioned from grasping for concepts others easily understood to moving beyond them.

But he never had a choice. He couldn't understand what was being done until it had been done.

By the way, that shot of Julian? Where Siddig acted his ass off? Nearly two whole minutes of performance. It's Masterful.

Garak and Julian both grew up with parents who were impossible to please, who wanted their sons to do what they would have chosen for their lives. Neither man had a good relationship with his father. So, though Bashir and Garak are set up as very different—and in some ways they truly are—there are other places where they can relate to one another that are special, intimate.

"What's the matter?" "Well, it's just that lately I've noticed everyone seems to trust me. It's quite unnerving. I'm still trying to get used to it. Next thing I know people are going to be inviting me to their homes for dinner."

Because everyone knows better than to invite you anywhere for lunch. Right, Garak? That's Bashir time! Okay, fine. I know it's a bit of a reach. But that was my first thought when he said, "Dinner". So, into the Meta it goes.

"It's hard to believe he's the same man who attacked us." "In a way... he's not. The drug brought out the worst parts of him and allows them to take over. He wasn't in control of his actions."

This is a very... interesting way of attacking this issue. I mean, accountability is a very important thing, and I feel like we're kinda skirting that, here. And there is going to be an inquest. I'm just not a fan of the framing, I suppose.

But, if I pull out of the part of my brain that tries to analyze societal impact of Star Trek and its eras (I gave an entire persuasive speech about Star Trek at University, so I come by this honestly), I see a man trying to protect Garak.

Yes, we set up the "trust" others have for Garak in the beginning of the episode and showed how swiftly it could be broken. There was a throughline, here.

That's it for Garak and Julian in Season 5. Season 6 gives them the bitchiest of bitchy moments and I love the writers for it! Let's see, that would be... Ira Steven Behr and Hams Beimler. Thank you both for your service.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to give up hope, Doctor."

Oh. My. Gosh. Look, I'm bloody asexual, but even I can see that this is the most snack-a-licious Julian has ever looked, and he's sauntering right up to Garak with a lot of skin exposed. Oy vey!

And he walks right by because he is having none of this shit while he's out there trying to save lives.

"I would think that all those lunches we've shared would have entitled me to preferential treatment."

Are you two gonna kiss? You're standing like you're gonna kiss. Just sayin'... it might be good for you... for your morale? If you... y'know... kissed. I mean, come on this blocking is not to account for the 4:3 format.

"Look, I have 12 wounded officers and crewmen out there, all of whom are in a lot worse shape than you, Garak." "Well, if you're trying to cheer me up, it's working."

I had to add that comma between "up" and "it's" and I wish I knew if that was Robinson or the script because it's just so bloody... Garak. Taking those breaths and breaks where nobody else would.

Also, can we talk about this shot!? This is a continuous shot that follows the two of them to multiple blocking points in the room while changing their positioning, the dominance of one over the other, the framing of one closer to the camera, etc.

It's bloody masterful. You have to have lighting in all those areas so they aren't in weird shadow. You have to have the blocking marked out so they aren't out of focus. You have the have actors who can carry that long a shot without needing to reference a line or struggling with the giggles.

"I'll admit the odds are not good, but they coudl be worse." "Ah, let me guess. You've used your genetically enhanced brain to calculate our chances for survival... I'm really not interested Doctor. Ever since it's become public knowledge that you're genetically engineered, you've used every opportunity to show off."

First off, this reminds me that we never got Garak's reaction to that whole revelation, and I ache for it. It would have been interesting to see if Garak suspected all along, or if he was truly proud Julian hid something, even from him.

Also, damn this bitch is salty. Honey, it's okay that you're not always the smartest in the room. Your human boytoy can one-up you sometimes. It's not a bad thing.

And I love how Julian keeps working, even adjusting Garak's head gently with his fingers as he tries to repair the damage to his head. There's a "darling, just do what I need you to do" feeling to it.

Seriously, this is a couple bickering. And if Cardassians flirt by bickering, Garak is waving pheremones thick enough to nosh on as aphrodesiac appetizers to an adventurous night.

And after an entire minute of a single shot, we change angles. Damn, I love these long Garashir shots!

"You're certain about that figure?" "Do you want me to take you through the entire set of calculations?" "Not really."

Bashir smirks as he shifts past Garak, and you can feel just how much they are enjoying this. Their time for rigorous debate at lunch has long since passed. Hell, we haven't seen them share a dining table in years, now.

Yes, the Changeling and Garak sat together, but that doesn't count. It was Season 4 when last these two sat and ate together, and now we're at the top of Season 6.

So, it's not surprising Garak has found a new topic for spirited conversation.

"'Genetically Engineered' indeed." "Excuse me?"

Okay, the way Julian pops into frame there cracks me up. Like, he had to answer that and Garak knew he would. Garak is baiting him into debat and Julian is falling for it. And at 4:06 we started another long shot of these two.

"Well, look at you. You act as if you haven't a care in the world. It's exactly that kind of smug, superior attitude that makes people like you so... unpopular." "Are you trying to insult me?

Yes, darling. Flirting with you helps distract him from all y'all's impending doom.

"A 32.7 percent chance of survival, I call that insulting." "Don't take it so personally, Garak. It's strictly a matter of mathematics." "No, it's strictly a matter of our lives. You're not genetically engineered. You're a Vulcan."

I love how Julian appears to rest his arm on Garak as he scans him, likely making sure that the treatment he did a moment earlier took, despite Garak's inability to stay still.

"If I'm a Vulcan, then how do you explain my boyish smile?"

Damn, Julian! You are finally catching up to the flirting, here. And I love that the smile he offers him definitely has the edge of flirtation to it. This isn't his dopey grin when he watches Garak rewrite Cardassian security code, or his big smile when Garak joins a mission.

Look at the way Julian's eyes seek out Garak's.

"Not so boyish anymore."

And, oh, you can hear the way he rocks back on those boots before sauntering off... a few feet away. Like, seriously, where the fuck is he going?

It's not about the destination. He really just did that to be petty to Julian, who is left definitely feeling that. Because, he wants Garak to think he's handsome, damnit.

Julian shakes his head to shake it off. But this remains one of my favorite scenes of the two of them.

And while that shot was roughly 40 seconds, and not as long as the last, it still constantly amazes me how little cutting they often do with these two.

I've done both stage and film/tv. They often take completely different skillsets, but there are times where they overlap, or where a strength in theater really comes in handy.

Remembering dialogue is part of the game with theater. Remembering blocking is integral. Remembering to listen and not just speak is essential.

Both of these two actors have experience in both, and that's why scenes like these sing. They know how to feed one another without drawing attention. They know how to react and not only act.

Yes, they have insane chemistry on-camera. But they also know how to use that along with their other skills. They deliver on every level, and it's a fucking shame they're used together so little after this episode.

Also, it's such a fascinating choice to see Julian debating so dispassionately with Garak while losing his cool with Sisko. This has to do with the different relationships at play, sure. But I find it fascinating.

One could consider it a coping mechanism—that Julian needs that rigorous debate as much as Garak does in that moment. And Julian knows Garak has no trouble making the tough decisions. Maybe that's what he hopes Sisko will do... but it's not his place.

"Garak? Come to see us off?" "Not quite."

And as the two turn to face Sisko... this could really be their wedding. I mean, yeah, not the best venue. The food's nonexistant and the music sucks. But, Sisko does have the power to perform the ceremony if they're so inclined.

"I invited Mr. Garak to join us considering we're heading into Cardassian territory I thought he might prove useful."

Julian is beaming. He's beaming. Earlier these two were verbally sparring, and now he couldn't be happier that Garak is onboard for this dangerous mission.

"Well, it's been known to happen."

Julian grasps Garak's shoulder and pats it several time before moving on, still smiling. Just moments ago each of them was lamenting what they didn't have on the ship. But now he has Garak.

"Captain, may I make a suggestion?" "Only if you talk softly." "We saw Dukat-" "Shh." "Wearing one of these headsets during the attack on Deep Space 9-"

This is so married. I have a friend who is Autistic who has a lot of trouble with self-monitoring when it comes to volume, so she and her husband developed a hand signal so he could help hold her accountable in spaces where she needs to be more aware.

I thought of that as soon as I watched this. God bless Garak, but he missed the memo entirely when Sisko said to speak softly. But, one glance at Julian's finger raise to his lips and he gets the message.

"Perhaps Cardassian physiology is more... compatible."

Julian's head swivels to Garak as he processes what the Cardassian is offering. It's a good suggestion. And, honestly, what was Garak adding to the mission besides eye candy for Bashir?

Of course, when the episode was written, this was all planned out. I'm not coming for the writers! No, I'm looking at it purely from the point of view of the characters, who got to enjoy Garak's personality while waiting for him to be useful.

He's a good little Swiss Army Knife of a character, where you never quite know how he's going to be useful. But Sisko's seen enough of him by now to know it's better to bring him along than not.

"Are you volunteering?" "I suppose I am. This ship is equipped with two of them. If I wore one, then you wouldn't have to. At least, not all the time."

Julian puts it together quicker than Sisko, and he likes this idea. Sisko is his patient, at the moment, and as the Captain, he needs to keep him physically fit.

"I agree with Garak, Captain."

And Sisko hands over the headset. But watch how Julian follows the headset to Garak, then waits to be sure he's okay. Yes, of course, he's a bloody Doctor. But, I still love the choice as a performer.

"We have to go to full impulse 1.3 seconds before the bomb detonates."

Bet you're not complaining about his super brain now are you, Garak!?

"Dax?" "The computer agrees with Julian." "Of course it does. They think alike."

Damnit, Garak, I was giving you some credit on that one! Nevermind. And the look Julian gives Garak! Gosh, these two are reading old married couple so much in this episode.

"How long?" "17 Years, 2 months, and 3 days, give or take an hour."

This time, Garak looks to Julian for the answer. This time, he knows that genetically engineered mind will have the answer he needs, even if it's not the one he wants.

And Julian delivers the whole thing directly to Garak. His eyes don't move from him. Theirs is such a fascinating connection, and I wish more of Season 6 between them had been like this.

There's a heat and energy that's obviously couply, but so electric and different from what they had before. It's grown and shifted and they're on a more equal footing, by this point, and they see each other on a more even playing field.

"Garak! I need a hand."

Julian calls out for him as help to carry Jadzia. He trusts him to help him with this. A few years ago, all of them considered Garak a spy and wouldn't trust him with anything. Oh, how far they have come.

Also, are they actually outside!? I love when they let the Star Trek characters bust outside the sound stages and breathe fresh air and have actual sunlight for a bit!

And I'm not going to comment much on the whole Nog/Garak adventure of this episode because, honestly, hearing Garak say words to Nog that hold such meaning for Garashir does irk me.

Now, Robinson is a pro enough to deliver them in completely different ways. "There may be hope for you, yet" to Bashir was sultry and horny. To Nog, it's upbeat and slick.

But it's not my favorite choice when it comes to resuscitating previous dialogue in a new setting. I will admit that much.

"That's the eleventh ship to fall out of formation." "Nice of you to keep track, Garak." "He can't help being negative. It's in his nature." "On the contrary, I always hope for the best. Experience unfortunately has taught me to expect the worst."

Garak turns fully to face Julian to deliver this one. Wow, these two are in a catty phase!

"They outnumber us two to one." "Now who's being negative?"

Julian doesn't acknowledge him, but I love Garak trying to get that little jab in there. Seriously, Season Six is all about the snark. Would've been nice to watch that tension build to some sort of release, eh? But, yeah, nope! Because that's it for Season 6 for these two.

"Thank you for your company, gentlemen."

His first scene with Julian of Season 7, and it's a group get-together where he starts to tap into his claustrophobia. Of the three men across from him, only one has seen that in action before.

"He checks out fine." "Well, I don't feel fine."

There's an intersting turn. Garak used to put up a front, but this time he isn't. But Julian won't be the one to help him. To endear one of my least-favorite characters to the audience, we pair her with one of the most beloved.

And, nothing against the actress. I've seen her in other things and loved her. But young Rachel abhored the character, and grown Rachel's opinion has not wavered.

Oh my gosh. Season 7 Episode 16. Finally a complete scene between these two! It's been since the beginning of Season 6! And they are so in sync they tap the table at the same time, order their drinks simultaneously, and sit down while chatting with some animation we haven't seen in some time.

Bitchy, old couple Garashir has given way to an old, familiar rhythm. And I think part of that is because Julian is back to pursuing what is expected of him—a Dax. But that's a subject for someone else's Meta.

"The eternal optimist." "Guilty as charged." "How sad."

Alright, there's a little bitchiness still in there.

"But, I live in hope that one day you'll come to see this universe for what it truly is rather than what you'd wish it to be." "Well, I shall endavor to become more cynical with each passing day—look gift horses squarely in the mouth, and find clouds in every silver lining." "If only you meant it."

Anyone else feel a little lighter? I feel a little lighter. Because this? This is fucking gorgeous! I ache that it's been since the first episodes of Season 6 since we've seen these two interacting and sparking and reminding us why we love them together. Such different people who challenge one another, excite one another, and make each other smile like no one else can.

But, yeah, sure. Let's give Julian to the bloody Dax. Look, Little Rachel didn't clock Garashir and I was still anti Ezri/Julian. No hatred to those who loved them! But I never understood it.

And thank goodness someone somewhere realized who Garak had to share his last scene with—Julian. It wouldn't have been right if it had been anyone else, despite their distinct lack of screentime together in Seasons 6 and 7.

"Well, aren't you going to congratulate me, Doctor? My exile is now officially over. I've returned home... or rather, to what's left of it." ... "You and I both know the Cardassians are a strong people. They will survive. Cardassia will survive." "Oh, please, Doctor, spare me your insufferable Federation optimism. Of course it'll survive... but not as the Cardassia I knew."

Garak is right. And if he wasn't so (rightfully) upset, he would see that Julian's heart isn't in what he's saying. He just doesn't know what to say.

"We had a rich and ancient culture. Our literature, music, art was second to none. And now... so much of it is... lost. So many of our best people, our most gifted minds."

Robinson is pulling us apart, here. The anguish is palpable, and Siddig is feeding off of it. We can see Julian's plastered on optimism peeling away as the tears fill his eyes. He knows his words hold no meaning, here. So, he finally reaches out.

It's the shoulder touch. It's their thing. But Garak's not in the right place to receive it.

"You've been such a good friend. I'm going to miss our lunches together." "I'm sure we'll see each other, again." "I'd like to think so. But one can never say. We live in uncertain times."

Garak places his hand on Julian's shoulder, now. Their thing. But while Julian's was offered as comfort, Garak's is a goodbye. Garak lets his hand slide off Julian's shoulder, and the human can do nothing but stand there.

In the end, Garak was always going to choose Cardassia. In my mind, the only way he and Julian end up together is if the Doctor follows him there. But, Bashir just began a relationship with Ezri, a comfortable relationship in an uncomfortable time.

Love comes in many forms, and sometimes when you find it, you don't even know it's found. That's Garashir. That's the story of missed opportunities and all the things that held them back from finally crossing that final line to becoming the lovers they might have been.

I've heard the rumors, of course, for why that was so. But, since I don't know what's true, I won't repeat them here. Instead, I'll lament what wasn't, and be grateful for a relationship that was so beloved and enduring that Robinson and Siddig themselves championed it, fed it, fostered it, developed it, and supported it so long that it found itself canon in another Star Trek show.

I like to imagine that someday Julian followed Garak to Cardassia, that they realized what they had and couldn't do without. Imagine them both separated so long that their missed lunches grow from an ache to an agony—that the walls of expectation and convention break down enough that they find themselves in one another's arms.

Sometimes we aren't ready for something in life—a career, a move, a great love. And at the end of Star Trek: Deep Space 9, these two aren't in the right place to start something. There are too many other factors at play.

But love at last is often sweeter than the right love at the wrong time. Maybe that's where Garak found Julian—the moment they were both finally ready.

Thanks for reading, loves. I know it's long and likely riddled with typos. But, it's late and I have a Strike Book to resume. This little obsessive ride was a blast, but with my OCD once it's written, it's done. I feel released, and I'm thankful.

And, remember, you are beautiful inside and out. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

[octopotto]

Brain Rot: TWST Cast with Saitama! Reader

OCTO NOTE: College has been absolutely brutal. These headcanons were worked on bit by bit these past few months :(

I saw some TWST fics that used pre-exsiting characters to based the MC off of and I wanted to try w/ one of my favourite characters.

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, OOC Behaviour, this is so cringe but very self-indulgent, mc is the most sane person in this universe, you decide if mc is bald or not, yandere if you squint hard enough.

SPOILERS FOR: TWISTED WONDERLAND

**The reader will ALWAYS be Gender-Neutral! 

———————————-••———————————

Life at Night Raven College would be much more peaceful if MC had Saitama’s strength lol

Problems would've been solved quicker as well.

At first glance, you don’t seem to be a threat.

To most, you look like a regular, magic-less human on the outside.

And that’s what makes you so dangerous.

Don’t fuck around and overblot unless you have a death wish.

The Overblot crew definitely had one when MC swung their fist at them.

The whole prologue would be shortened.

Fun fact: You accidentally put too much force on the coffin door to get out, thus smashing Grim in the process while he was prying it open :D

Grim, the Ramshackle ghost, and Crowley were the first group to witness your impressive strength.

And by impressive, they mean terrifying.

To Crowley and Grim at least.

The ghost were shocked but very much amused after a couple moments.

God knows how the Ramshackle Dorm was still in one piece after that.

Grim is very happy to have a strong minion to protect him

Just don’t hurt him like you did with the ghost pls. And the door lol

Crowley would be most likely absolutely be afraid and made a mental note to keep track of you. 

Especially since you were almost successful to killing him in his ghost form. He’s making sure that Ramshackle gets fixed quicker.

Crowley: “Great Sevens… How do they have such monstrous strength... This stowaway is just a magicaless human! My…what have I gotten myself into?? *sobs* OH IF I WASN’T SUCH A KIND AND GENEROUS SOUL I WOULD NOT LET THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOUR BE PRESENT ON MY CAMPUS” *more obnoxious sobbing*

You and Grim: 😶😐????

Despite scaring and almost killing the shit out of the Headmaster, you still start off as a janitor lol.

Fast forward to the Mine Incident with Ace, Deuce, and Grim—

You basically massacred that monster.

A monster that probably injured many Mages and Wizards

You destroyed it in one punch.

On that day, Ace reminded himself to never piss you off again. Ever.

He loves cherry pie, but would rather not become the filling itself, thanks.

Deuce probably was gawking at you after the shock.

Not in a bad way

But in a good way y'know?

But he’s too shy to ask for advice for now.

This is basically the start of Deuce idolizing you and your strength.

Brain Rot:

Ace, Deuce and Grim are your self-proclaimed bodyguards.

At least THEY like to think that they are.

Listen, they know that you are MORE THE CAPABLE protecting yourself in fights or in any physical confrontations.

But that’s it.

You’re basically shit at everything else.

From completing your assignments to even showing up to class, it seems like in the trio's eyes that you NEED THEM to take care of you. You all are like family now!

So they all make an effort to help you out when you need it.

No really, if you keep forgetting to submit that one potion essay that Crewel keeps smacking your shiny ass head to complete, you’re going to get left behind.

 They’re more like secretaries than bodyguards lol.

The post-overblot Spelldrive tournament was an absolute nightmare.

Well, at least for everyone but Ace, Deuce, and Grim.

They were GLOATING about how they were in the lead and challenged anyone to try and top them like the smug, over-confident assholes they are.

The only reason why they were in the lead was because of you. Simple as that.

The Savannaclaw gang put up a good fight

For the first 10 minutes in the match.

All Leona could do at that moment was strategize how not to get his and his teammate’s heads chopped off by the disc you kept throwing at them.

You are quite fond of Ruggie

More specifically: you were fond of Ruggie’s haggling skills.

If were had a choice to trade your god-like strength for his haggling skills and techniques, you wouldn’t hesitate one bit.

And y’know it wouldn’t be Ruggie if he didn’t take advantage of this. He would offer you advice and tell you if theres a huge sale going on at a near-by grocery store if you promise to lend him a hand whenever he needed it.

You were so tempted to say no

Not because he was shady and overall untrustworthy

You’re just lazy

This is his way to spend more time with you but he would never admit that out-loud.

If your MC is bald, instead of Floyd squeezing you, he will smack and ‘dribble’ your head as if it was basketball.

Jamil and Ace especially are amused.

God forbid you ever get a bad tan on the top of your scalp

You will NEVER hear to end of it.

Floyd also is your biggest bully.

jk but not really

Yeah he knows that you could probably kill him with a gentle tap

But when did that ever stop him?

He mainly does it because he wants to see your reactions

You’re so plain looking and your nonchalant voice and facial expressions do not help as well.

But remember only Floyd HIMSELF can do those things to you, okay? Only him.

If he ever finds out that some random NPC student was doing the same thing to you, You’re going to be finding that NPC tossed in a corner somewhere with almost all their joints mangled.

You like how generous Kalim is.

You probably helped him fan the fire off his ass in the ceremony

He’s was incredibly thankful and was able to remember what you looked like.

I mean, you literally saved him!

How could he not remember you?

You don't remember him but let’s not go there lol

Because you saved Kalim from being cooked, he always makes sure that you had enough food for the month!

He would practically beg, like BEG Jamil to make extras so you won’t go hungry.

Especially after experiencing what type of living conditions you were dealing with in Book 5.

Poor Jamil, not only is he working overtime for Kalim, but technically serving food for the person who ruined his plans back in Book 4.

Jamil packing food for you by Kalim’s request: 😡😡😡

totally did not try to poison your food on several occasions

Kalim also begs Jamil to let him deliver the food to you.

He can’t help it! He really enjoys seeing you happy when you receive something from him and Jamil.

You never complain about.

Free food = Saving money.

I mean, if you're being gifted something, why be rude and deny it?

Some students say that you were taking advantage of Kalim because of how easily you accept his gifts without anything in return.

And y'know they could be right

But Kalim doesn't mind.

As long as you're happy, he's happy :)

In Vil’s eyes, you are an enigma. 

It’s like he can’t wrap his pretty little head around on how he feels about you.

On one hand, other than your god-like strength, you’re nothing special. When he first saw you he only disregarded you as another potato that’s not worth his precious time and effort on.

But on the other hand, Vil sees you as a blank slate. Something that ASKING for him to put his smooth and perfectly manicured fingers on. Someone that needs his guidance and skills. 

He doesn’t care if you’re bald or have hair, it doesn’t derail him from the fact that despite you sticking out like a sore-thumb, you’re still so…plain looking.

You probably said some off-hand comment about how ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ to Vil and just walked off.

It might not meant anything to you

But it meant a lot to Vil.

When it came to the overblots and eventually Book 5, he felt as though he was in a spiral of questions that he himself must find the answers for.

And what were the questions that caused Vil’s current state of disarray about? You obviously.

He’s going mad

He can’t stand it.

You said that beauty is in the eye of the holder? Fine then.

He knows that he could do something for you. 

Something marvellous, something beautiful.

For you and himself. 

You had a new nickname for Malleus every time you guys end up running into eachother.

Malleus would always look forward to meeting you solely for the nicknames.

I believe that Saitama genuinely does not care enough to remember other people’s names that much

So that will be a trait for MC in this.

Malleus probably thinks this is a way humans show affection to each other.

In reality, you cannot for the life of you remember that weirdo's name.

Malleus: *Appears out of thin air in front of the MC*

Malleus: Greetings, Child of Man *smiles*

MC Thinking: ‘Why does this rando keep coming back? What was his name again?’

Malleus: *Anticipating their response with excitement*

MC: Uhhhh..

MC: Wassup…Horton? :D

Malleus: *Smiles at his new nickname*

It took a while for you to come up with a permanent nickname for him but he doesn't mind

In his eyes, it's your way of showing him how much you wanted to become closer companions.

Jack and Epel are always on your ass about “How to become stronger” and when you actually tell them the routine that you did at the beginning of your journey, they literally fell in disbelief.

They couldn’t believe it.

It was basically a simple workout routine 

Both still believe that you’re hiding the secret of how you got to your level of strength.

Thus, joint workouts became also a thing within the NRC Campus and you are the leader.

Not by choice however.

Jack, Epel, and everyone else involved were really curious as to how you train.

I mean, look at what you can do! And you’re not even a Mage!

The first meeting was terrible due to the fact you almost obliterated the school.

One flick and the gym could’ve been in shambles.

That’s why Jack and Epel made sure to do it somewhere far and secluded.

And even then, you still created a lot of damage with minimal effort.

It’s incredible to those who look up to you.

Throughout the story, you gained some admiration and recognition along the way.

From Heartslaybul to Diasomnia, you unknowingly grab the admiration of those who either want to become stronger or see you as a hero. 

Some might say that they see you as the messiah who was sent to protect the school.

But let’s not go that far.

You wouldn’t notice anyways

In your eyes they're all a bunch of weirdos.

———————————-••———————————

OCTO NOTE: Hopefully you guys enjoyed these very terrible brain-rot headcanons. I always found Saitama’s character interesting so I wanted to try out something new. 

Again, I’ve been very busy so I can’t promise anything BUT I can say that there will be more Yandere FF7 fics coming soon! ;)

Thank you to everyone who enjoys my low-quality works! Hope you look forward to my new ones ❤️❤️

[mrnightingale]

Hey! I just discovered your blog, and I love your art style!

If you're still taking requests, could I request Payneland snuggling on the office couch, with Edwin reading to Charles?

(And if you're no longer taking requests, have a lovely day!)

Ok, so, today I woke up so fucking tired and I'm still very sleepy, I feel without energy and, yeah. Very tired, me. I even burned myself w my morning tea bc I didn't have the energy to hold the cup strong enough and ended up spilling it all over myself. I'm an idiot. (I'm okay now, it was really hot but most of it ended up in my clothes and I just had a burn in my arm that won't let marks, I put it under cold water and some ice and a cream and all that. I'm fine, I almost don't feel it anymore). But yeah, I'm tired today.

I struggled a lot w the anatomy for incredibly absurd reasons, it's not even that difficult, but it wasn't working and I don't know how to render this, Charles doesn't look like him, usually it's very easy for me to pick the colors and I still don't like it— it's not working. Today I am not working. So, I'll take a nap or smth and then finish it properly. I like it tho, it looks cute, it has more or less the vibe I wanted, so, this is a WIP. I'm trying to take care of myself, right? Well, I need some rest, relax a bit, and then I'll do it.

Btw this is really cute, I love payneland! They make me smile! It's been a while since I've been wanting to draw them cuddling and reading and having a nice, soft, heartwarming moment, they deserve it, and so do I, so I want to enjoy it.

And yeah, I'm still taking requests for anyone who would like me to draw smth! I want to draw Monty and the Cat King and put them in ✨outfits✨ so if anyone finds any outfit or clothing, accessories, etc that remind you of them my ask box is open :D