#some people will want emotional support but won’t offer it in return

[fourthapprentice]

some people want friendships but only the benefits of one. they want the company, the entertainment, the attention, etc. but don’t want to put in the “emotional labor” / effort of actually BEING a friend to someone

[greenhappyseed]

Having now read the official release of MHA 407, I don’t (yet) see the argument that AFO was a traumatized baby who was just looking for someone to respond to his cries and take care of him the way that Tenko was wandering the streets. While it’s revealed that AFO doesn’t want to be alone, AFO’s backstory and Tenko’s backstory reveal two very different men with different motivations.

The narrative in 407 says young AFO distrusts anyone who won’t turn and look at him when he cries because those people don’t offer anything of value to him. He can’t manipulate them into doing what he wants, and therefore they are useless and he can kill them if he wants. This has long been AFO’s thought pattern, and it’s what he taught young Tenko — YOU are more important than anything, and YOU should always act how you desire. Nothing in the world matters except what YOU want to do.

Contrast that with young Tenko’s initial reactions when realizing he killed his family, and with Tomura’s later hesitation to kill (or even attack) Katsuki after Katsuki refuses to join the LOV. Tenko/Tomura cares about other people, even after they refuse him, in a way that AFO does not.

Moreover, look at young AFO’s faces. He isn’t shown smiling or crying or having any emotion at all until page 11, when he reveals he killed the glowing child and stole their quirk. He then grins widely as he talks about his dream of a world that exists only for him. AFO didn’t smile when killing the anti-meta group OR when reading with Yoichi. He has no happy, smiling memories prior to this moment (even with Yoichi), unlike Tenko who had fond memories of his mom, sister, friends, and dog.

As another point of contrast, look at why AFO wants to be the villain: He wants to be surrounded by people who pay tribute to him. He does not want to “battle on in solitude.” (Another reason why AFO hated All Might for smashing his face in — it required a lengthy recovery hidden away from followers.)

To AFO, people are a one-way relationship. He doesn’t want to be alone, so he wants to possess a brother who directly opposes everything AFO stands for; a brother who is family and who wishes for the best but will never be a supporter, follower, ally, or friend. AFO gives Yoichi a quirk thinking that will change Yoichi’s mind, or keep him somehow bound to AFO.

Tomura, however, wants allies, and in return he wants to give back to them. He got downright DEFENSIVE when Mirio said he didn’t have any friends. Tomura understands the give-and-take involved in working with people. He doesn’t just want followers that do his bidding.

In the end, AFO’s unrelenting selfishness will leave him alone — at some point he will run out of “followers” and paths to victory. Meanwhile, Yoichi and Kudou built a network that ensured they would not be alone in their battle. They found true allies in the other OFA holders, and in turn Izuku found allies among pro heroes and at UA, just as Tomura did in the LOV. They are not alone.

[whimsicalpolitical]

i loved the blurb where girlie is scared of intimacy. do you think you could write some sort of sequel, in which girlie tells matty what happened in her past? 🥺

thank you x

thank you! Of course x

content warning: talk of abusive childhood,

It’s late now, well past midnight. The house is silent except for the quiet hum of the fan in the corner. You’re lying in bed with Matty, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arm is wrapped around you protectively, his hand absentmindedly tracing soft patterns on your back. The dim glow of the streetlights filters through the curtains, casting a faint glow in the room.

“Matty?” you whisper, your voice soft in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” His hand pauses for a moment, and you can feel his attention shift fully to you.

You take a deep breath, the weight of what you want to say pressing on your chest. “I just… I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, his voice warm and a little sleepy, but still full of curiosity.

“For being so patient with me. For not pushing me,” you murmur, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your cheek. “You’ve been so good to me, and I haven’t even been able to… I mean, I haven’t been fair to you.”

He pulls you a little closer, his fingers brushing lightly through your hair. “Hey, don’t say that. It’s alright. You don’t owe me anything, love, remember?”

You shake your head, feeling the familiar tightness in your throat. “No, Matty. It’s not alright.”

“I’ve been holding back, and you deserve me being honest with you. You deserve to know why.”

His eyes soften, concern flickering in the darkness. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he says gently, his hand resting on your arm, giving you an out if you want it.

But you shake your head again, more firmly this time. “No. I want to tell you.”

There’s a pause, and for a second you feel the familiar urge to retreat, to keep it all locked inside like you always have. But you know you can’t keep doing that. Not with Matty. Not with the way he looks at you, like he’d wait forever if he had to. You owe him this truth, and maybe, you owe it to yourself too.

You take a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue but needing to be said.

“I… I had a rough childhood,” you begin, your voice shaky but determined. “There were things… people who weren’t kind to me. I couldn’t live a normal life because people of my family physically hurt me almost everyday. And for a long time, I thought it was normal. That the way I was treated was just… how things were supposed to be.”

Matty’s face remains calm, but you can feel the tension in his body, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around you as if trying to offer more support.

You close your eyes to brace yourself.

“I swore to myself I wouldn’t let anyone touch me like that ever again.”

“I didn’t realize how much it affected me until I got older,” you continue, your voice quieter now. “How much it still affects me. It’s like, even when I want to be close to you, something in me freezes up. I get scared, and I don’t even know why half the time.”

You look up at him, tears welling in your eyes. “And that’s not fair to you, Matty. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I… I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just… let myself be with you. To trust that you won’t hurt me.”

He reaches up and gently wipes away a tear that escapes, his touch soft and reassuring. “It’s not your fault, love,” he whispers. “None of it is your fault. And you’re not broken, okay? There’s nothing wrong with needing time, or needing space.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break free. “But you’ve been so patient, and I’ve barely given you anything in return.”

Matty sits up slightly, shifting so he can look at you more closely. “I don’t want anything in return,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I just want you. However you come, at whatever pace you’re ready for. You’re not a burden, and you don’t need to apologize for taking time. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Thank you, Matty,” you smile, “I’m working on it, I promise.”

“Oh, love, m’proud of you, yeah? I know it can be hard to move on from things sometimes. You’re doing really well.”

Matty’s arms hold you close, the warmth of his body making you feel secure, grounded. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a soft rhythm that slowly calms the storm of emotions inside you.

“So proud of you, darling.”

You feel his lips press lightly against your forehead again, and something inside you stirs — a mix of gratitude, love, and the overwhelming need to show him just how much his presence means to you.

Without pulling away from his chest, you slide your hand up his arm and find his. His fingers are large and warm, enveloping yours completely as you lace your fingers through his. You lift his hand gently to your lips, kissing it softly. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a promise — one you’re ready to make now.

Matty’s breath catches for a moment, and you can feel his eyes on you, watching every move. You pause, looking up at him with tear-bright eyes, your heart full but still fragile.

“You know… you’re the person I feel safest with.”

His eyes soften, his thumb brushing across your knuckles as he holds your hand. “Really?” he asks softly, as if he needs to hear you say it again, as if it’s too precious to believe the first time.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice a little stronger now. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. It’s like… no matter what happens, or what I’m going through, I know I’ll be okay if you’re there.”

His free hand moves to cup your face, his thumb wiping away the last traces of your tears. “I’m glad,” he whispers. “That’s all I ever wanted — to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself fully soak in the comfort of his presence. “You do,” you reply quietly. “You make me feel more loved than I ever thought I deserved.”

Matty’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, cradling it gently as he pulls you back against his chest. “You deserve it,” he says, his voice low and steady, full of certainty. “You deserve every bit of it.”

For a while, the two of you lie there in silence, his hand stroking your hair as you nestle closer against him. There’s no rush, no pressure. Just the quiet understanding that you don’t have to carry the weight of your past alone anymore. Matty is there, solid and constant, and for the first time, you start to believe that things can be different.

“Thank you for telling me,” he mumbles, “shows strength.”

You hum, “shows I really like you.”

Matty giggles, “I like you too. I’m actually so in love with you, s’ mad.”

You both look at each other, grinning like two idiots, feeling at it’s very best together.

“D’you want to sleep now? It’s been a long night.”

“I’d love to,” you turn off your bedside lamp, “could you cuddle me?”

“Course.”

[deviantly-inspired]

Genshin impact Wriothesly/Neuvillette is on tbe brrrain

So I’ve been consuming fanfic like crazy for the past week or so. And. I love all of, but to switch things up a bit: Neuvillette as the one who falls first and pines longingly from afar.

He’s livedd a long time, and just because he doesn’t act on his emotions doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them. He’s not self aware of how others view him, and he’s full of doubt, but he does know his own mind (even if he won’t admit it or speak it allowed) by his own story and voicelines.

So Neuvillette in love with Wriothesly for so long but also deciding to never act upon it, because he doesn’t think it returned and because he knows that Wriothesly’s own natural death will already break his heart: there’s no need to add more pain to it. Better to be a friend, a comrade, and a supporting pillar in Wriothesly’s life than to try and cast himself as a main character in it.

The end of the prophecy shifts things. The guillotine has fallen, at last, with as few casualties as possible. A tragedy no one will ever know has been closed. And Neuvillette realizes that, even if returned love is not in his script, the very least he should better appreciate what he does have. So he allows more and more personal conversation and shares his private thoughts and feelings and fears. Even gods die. It is foolishness to not enjoy wriothesly in his life while he still lives.

(The water sovereign was always the most gentle, no matter his form. It is how he was unmade the first time: his kindness exploited and twisted unto itself. He had thought himself rid of the trait in his new life, but even now the skies cry for both the people created from the blood of Neuvillette’s murder and for the so-called gods who uphold the order set down by the usurpers.

He is still water itself. In the end, Egeria was correct in one aspect of her rule: water, above all, is love)

And wriothesly… is absolutely not prepared for these softer moments. He had always found Neuvillette handsome and was honored by the friendship offered when he recognized it for what it was. But this is… more. Intimate in a way he doesn’t understand but wants to glut himself on. Every bit Neuvillette offers of himself Is sequestered away and held dear like the most valued treasure. The only thing that had ever stopped Wriothesly from falling for Neuvillette was the knowledge that such feelings wouldn’t be welcome. But with each piece of dispensed knowledge and shared laugh and quiet support offered that knowledge crumbles away into something a bit more hopeful.

Anyway. What I’m getting at is this:

“Neuvillette… I’m afraid I must confess: I am afraid that I’m falling in love with you.”

“Ah… I suppose it is only fair, then, to also confess: I am in love with you, and have been for some time.”

[cthulhusstepmom]

What Is and What Could Be

Down in the bayou it’s never silent. The air is filled with the shrill calls of a million marsh birds, underscored by the harmonies of cicadas, crickets, and whining mosquitos. With a tempo set by croaking bullfrogs and sluggishly churning water, urged along by hooting owls and supported by the bass tones of bellowing gators. The song of the swamp is a busy tune, not unlike the brassy jazz played by those that live there. And if you know how to listen just right, it can tell you no shortage of things. 

In a warm and humid tavern a group of adventurers sits around a table, glancing furtively this way and that, squirming slightly under the judgemental stare of the more naturalized citizens. Things don’t often change in the bayou, it’s a wild place, untamed. Civilization has tried to reach within before and without fail it’s been pushed back with prejudice, those that do live here are proud of it and somewhat by design they tend to be a rather insular folk. By and large this means they don’t take kindly to most strangers. Particularly strangers that show up asking questions .

And this crew had been asking plenty, beyond the glaring offense of very clearly not being from around this neck of the woods. 

They rolled into town a few days ago, talking like Galticans or similar enough to them, and by the look in their eyes: running from who knows what. They found rooms at one of the nicer inns, kept to themselves and tipped decent enough(it takes more than that to ingratiate yourselves to the folk of Agwé) before they started asking things. Innocuous at first. They wanted to know about the circus going on just out of town, who the mayor was(useless question) and who was really in charge(that one earned them some begrudging respect). Then they dug deeper, asked about other people. Powerful people. People who are none too fond of having their business nosed about. 

However, if there’s one thing the people of Agwé like more than being stalwartly unhelpful to those they dislike, it’s watching someone else be stalwartly unhelpful and commentating on it over Sunday brunch and mimosas. 

“I’ll tell you what, you go on over to that carnival a ways outta town and I reckon you’ll find who you’re looking for.” A greasy tabaxi offers between wiping tables, battered tail flicking back and forth with a hard to determine emotion. “I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you, it won’t be in town much longer.” The Tabaxi returns to his business with a glinting smile and a few gold pieces that were well worth the trouble. If city slickers wanna go poking beehives it’s not his business to stop them, especially if he’s compensated for handing them the stick. 

The carnival itself is in full swing when they arrive, flashing lights and smells both sweet and savory assaulting their senses from the get go. The operation is staffed by a motley crew of goblinoids, bullywugs, humans, kobolds, and anything else one could reasonably imagine; in the corner of her vision, the half elven leader of the group of adventurers even catches sight of what look to be a few pixies working the crowd though the tide of patrons sways and they’re obscured before she can be fully certain. 

Games line the thoroughfare all of which, from the looks of a surreptitious investigation, appear to be thoroughly if subtly rigged. Arching above the sea of people is an impressive ferris wheel, bedazzled with twinkling magical lights as it turns and turns. Near it, a calliope booms a cheery tune over the sounds of hawking carnival workers, screaming children, and laughing patrons. A map near the entrance advertises a hall of mirrors, a freak show, and hourly performances in the red and white striped big top including a magic show, fire dancing, beast taming, and a spectacle led by the carnival owner at noon and midnight. Perusing through the carnival, wandering and wondering just how they’re meant to find anyone here let alone the one man they seek, the party save one(a dragonborn with a hand harp strapped to his side) seems oblivious to an odd quirk of this particular carnival. There doesn’t seem to be any clowns.

Their hotheaded gnome companion is easily egged into a game of strength(taunted all the while by a colorful lizardfolk wearing the symbol of the carnival), black eyes glitter with excitement as their minotaur begs to go to the big top to see the beasts in the next show as the small pseudodragon on his shoulder makes similar pleading motions, a disinterested rabbitfolk quickly snatches her hands away from a passing purse under the stern reprimand of an androgynous human with subtly glowing eyes. They come to the conclusion that they should split, agreeing that they will meet at the big top in an hour for the Spectacular, all concluding that should be their best chance to get an audience with who they seek. 

As they go their separate ways(one pair to the big top, one pair to the freak show, one making her way down the alley of carnival games and the last picking his way towards the concessions) the party is pulled into the atmosphere of merriment and none of them perceive the very distinct feeling of predatory eyes locked on their every move.

The party never gets a chance to reconvene at the big top. 

Instead, throughout the hour each one meets a disparate misfortune. The half elven woman drops to her knees at the edge of the thoroughfare, clutching her head in pain as the hand reaching for a holy symbol falls limp.

Behind her, the human spins about in panic, muttering a few infernal words before a hand is clamped over their mouth and ether slowly calms their struggling limbs. 

At a dart game, the dragonborn reaches to claim his prize and suddenly finds himself somewhere else entirely with only a moment to scream before his mind is enveloped in darkness and he falls to the ground fast asleep. 

In the large circus tent, the harengon thief is escorted away from her thoroughly distracted friend by a mysterious tabaxi claiming to be security, receiving a sharp blow to the temple as they walk towards a ‘holding cell’. 

Within the hall of mirrors, a black and orange hand reaches forth and yanks the furs worn by the gnome; sending her careening through the glass-turned-portal. 

Last to go is the minotaur. Enamored by the performance, he couldn’t pass up a chance to speak with the beastmaster of the carnival: an old goblin with an easy smile and a worn wooden ocarina. The only moment of warning he had was a deep hoot behind him before the world went dark.

Some indeterminate time later the human is wrenched from unconsciousness by a familiar, if perpetually jarring, voice shouting within their mind. In swift order they endeavor to wake the others, attempting to take stock of the situation. Their surroundings are dark, what little light is present struggles to illuminate anything through heavy curtains drawn over wide windows. Beneath them is an opulent rug, the color of which is hard to discern in the low light, and under that are tight wooden floorboards that match the walls of this space. What they can see of the walls anyway; most of the space is taken by lavish hangings and shelves of kick knacks, the one closest to them holds a beat up silver cigarette case, a small wooden figure of a two headed vulture, a clockwork dragonfly, a crocheted doily, a hip flask, and a vial that looks to house a small lily pad floating in water amongst a few other things. The air is thick with the scent of quality tobacco and warm food and the ambience it creates might even be homey and welcoming in the right circumstances. Though now, tied securely to chairs with no idea how they got there, it seems rather daunting. 

Spatially, the room is quite large. Wide enough for six chairs with displeased adventurers to be lined up side by side with a foot or so of walking room on one side. It’s longer than it is wide, maybe twice over though it’s hard to tell; the windows are positioned opposite each other in the very center of each wall, what light that escapes the curtains quickly stifles in almost absolute darkness before it reveals any sign of a far wall, at least to disadvantaged human eyes. What does catch their gaze and take their breath away are a pair of glowing dull magenta dots in the darkness. No, that’s not quite right. Not dots. Eyes . 

From the gasps coming from their left and right, some of the human’s more visually attuned party members have also perceived the eyes, and most likely the creature attached to them, whatever horrific beast it may be. 

Soon after they discover their predicament, the air is filled with the muffled noises of the carnivalé outside and underneath the muted cacophony the occasional grunt over a chorus of heavy breathing(the Thing on the other end of the room doesn’t move a single muscle, doesn’t even seem to breathe), a sliver of light falls upon the interior of the wagon. 

Creaaaaaaak. 

A door on the far side of the wagon opens. 

It takes a moment for the adventurers to get their bearing in the new light, when they do they first notice the creature connected to those dully shining eyes. 

A large bugbear stands against the far wall. He stands tall, the tips of his bat-like ears almost brushing the ceiling, limbs corded with lithe muscle, and a severe bearing that hints at confidence and ferocity. Running over his arms and up under his sleeves are large spots devoid of any of the dense brown fur that covers the rest of him, a closer look reveals thick rings of angry scar tissue, long healed but clearly agonizing once.

As the bugbear moves away from the opening door he reveals these new variables to their unfortunate situation. 

Stepping into the room with twin, thudding, clanks , a large fire genasi drags a pair of thick chains across the floor attached to weathered manacles that cover his forearms. The genasi is broad, with muscles that speak of hard labor and sheer physical power. His face is creased with deep laugh lines though the only smile on his lips at the moment is a malicious smirk as he reaches behind him to hold the door open. 

Lastly, a lizardfolk gentleman strolls through the door. He moves with the assured ease of a man who holds all the cards. Wearing a sharp purple suit, hand gripping the amethyst skull atop an ornate cane, the lizardfolk takes his time setting his top hat on a stand in the corner, breezing under the watchful eyes of the bugbear without a care for the sharp claws hovering near his snout. When he finally seats himself in a commanding armchair set front and center of the room, he casually fishes in his suit coat before withdrawing a sleek black cigarette holder and a cigarette from a mother of pearl case. It’s hardly in his hand for more than a second before the genasi at his shoulder provides a light at the tip of his finger before leaning with crossed arms on the back of the chair. As his back makes contact with the leather, a spidery hand covered in fur proffers a crystal tumbler of dark alcohol. 

After a long, weighted silence and a luxurious draw from the cigarette, he speaks. 

“What a do friends …”

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 3

Stumbling over the finish line if not in style then with enthusiasm!

Part 1, Part 2

- Odo looked as if he could use a spell in his bucket; I had rarely seen him looking so run-down.

<3 I love one goo man 

“I’d better get this information to Captain Sisko,” Odo decided.

“Would you rather I tell him?” I offered. Odo looked positively drained; he needed to return to his liquid state.

Every time Odo is changeling-sleep deprived Garak starts to hear kill bill sirens and flash back to ‘the die is cast’. It is kind of sweet that he seems to be worried for his friend and not trying to gain an advantage or sneak around here tho. 

The ironies of the situation both amused and irritated me. Here I was, the invaluable decoder of Cardassian encryptions containing life-and-death information for the Federation—and they won’t trust me with the code to wake up Captain Sisko. Ah well, it was never easy being a Cardassian on this suspended chunk of desolation. And then I laughed out loud. But what about Odo? The last time I looked he was a changeling, a member of the race of Founders that was determined to destroy the Alpha Quadrant. Not only did he have the captain’s wake-up code, he also slept with the station’s second-in-command.

LMAO you know what fair fucking point garak. Tbf I’m sure there are some people who’ve been assuming you’ve been fucking the chief medical officer too 

But if Damar had thrown his support to the rebels … if it wasn’t a ploy… I wanted my revenge on him, yes, but not at the expense of liberating Cardassia. And it wasn’t just liberating the planet from the control of a foreign power. It was closer… more personal. I wanted something that was even more difficult to attain—redemption.

The doors opened, and once again I was alert as I stepped into the deserted corridor and moved past the sleeping quarters to my own. It was time, I kept repeating in my head. It was time to take our place among the planets and peoples of the Alpha Quadrant as a civilized and open society. It was time to repair the damage. “A stitch in time saves….” What? What was that expression?

*pats him very gently and lovingly on the head* This man can unironically fit so much character development in him

“You’re Khon-Ma, aren’t you?” She didn’t respond. “Being the only Cardassian on this station, I expected you a long time ago. What kept you?”

She should shoot you actually just for this

I stopped. What’s the point, I thought. All the stories were beginning to run together and they all had the same ending.

Smoking gun of ‘hm I think there might be some unreliable narration still lingering here’ lol. In a way all but openly admitting that like this is probably more like telling the truth for garak than telling the actual truth would be. From how we see him interact with Toran in the show I buy that the emotional truth about this is basically as he tells it tho — I think he’s angry and disgusted with himself more for having been unable to stop something from happening and taking that as being as responsible for it as the asshole who caused it, rather than actively making it happen himself. That’s the kind of pattern he has in so many other places in his life too, trying to navigate in the very limited space and with the very limited agency being submissive to personalities like Tain and Toran leaves you. 

“And they were all killed,” she said even more softly.

“End of story, Remara.” I considered telling her how I had exacted my own revenge upon Toran, and that my only regret was that his death hadn’t come sooner… but what was the point? Another treacherous opportunist dies after tearing another hole in the fabric. What’s gained except the potential for more damage? I rose. The station’s gravity felt like it had increased threefold.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. One way or the other I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Who gave the order?” she asked.

“What difference does it make? I did, if you like.”

Remara just looked at me. She lowered the phaser. Part of me was deeply disappointed. 

The ‘has he been thinking with his horny brain this whole time or is he passive-actively suicidal’ conundrum. I suppose there’s nothing saying it can’t be both but I also think it’s more on the second side than he’d like anyone to know. I guess there’s no easy way to tell the guy who saved your life that you don’t really care that much for said life most days, and if you were offered some plausible deniability…

“You’re going to have to leave this station. They’ll keep coming after you until someone succeeds. Goodbye, Elim.” She put her hand against the side of my face, and I felt the heat coming through. Perhaps her passion was a curse as a terrorist, but she was a whole person … and she had found redemption.

Chewing on the idea of being a whole person vs. ‘unfinished man’ and ‘mosaic person’ 

- Gul Toran is someone Tain has warned me to monitor periodically.

Ah so Four Lubak is the future Gul Toran (the asshole in the Natima Lang ep if I remember correctly)! I see. That also means his snarking about Toran being made Gul is entirely performative he’s known about it for years lmao that was literally just to be a bitch  yes wonderful

- The fact that Tain has an evil Romulan twin/soulmate and they hate each other fdskjfhdsa

- So interesting that it does take until middle-age and Palandine’s extended presence in his life before Garak’s sense of humor really emerges fully. It seems such an integral part of him in the show, it sure is Something that it basically had to be carefully tended to and supported like a lil flower by careful gardener’s hands (thank you Palandine I’m sorry your life is a nightmare) 

- But I must confess that the toast proposed by proconsul Merrok left me feeling much better about the whole affair.

. . . 

“At first I couldn’t think why you hated him,” I confessed.

“I don’t hate anyone, Elim,” he carefully explained. “I have a job to do—and sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate those enemies who can’t otherwise be dissuaded. And he was determined to block our interests at every juncture.”

“I don’t hate anyone” says man composed of about 98% hate per volume

“Oh yes, my boy—yes, you did excellent work. A job well done.” He had never complimented me with such unconditional enthusiasm. It was almost a demonstration of paternal pride.

“You see, I had this planned for a long time, Elim. But Tolan wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t take on the assignment, and he wouldn’t pass on the information. But thankfully he trusted you, Elim.” Tain patted me on the shoulder, which meant I was dismissed.

Weaponizing Tolan’s memory against him. Fucked Up. 

- Fear and isolation, Doctor. You can’t have one without the other. Fear isolates and isolation is fear’s natural home. Just as my orchids need carefully prepared soil to protect them against disease and pests, fear needs the isolated circumstances to deepen and grow without connective or relational interference. When fear is allowed to flourish in its dark and lonely medium, then any evil that can be conceived by the fearful imagination will emerge.<

This whole chapter is so fucking good, and it starts slapping right from the beginning. The way this works not only as a description of the larger crimes of Cardassia, but also the shape of his own life. 

‘My orchids’ is very sweet, and a phrasing that occurs several times. 

My feelings are spent, my moral rationalizations are empty, and I can’t say it’s not my problem when I’m pulling and lifting and throwing bodies of people who once only wanted to go about the business of their lives.

His life has been a series of violent deconstruction followed by reassembly of the broken pieces, and this should have been the most shattering of all but it comes across as almost peaceful. He finally gets to have his soul to himself enough to make something meaningful with it and put it together in his own time and in the shape of his own truth, even in the middle of such a painful realization.  

Colonel Kira once told me how many Bajorans died during the Cardassian Occupation, and my mind rejected the figure like a piece of garbage. We’d been in the service of the state, I had told myself, and the state had determined what was necessary. But now I understand why she hated me. More important, I now understand that constant burning, almost insane look in her eyes.

. . . 

Most of us who are left, Doctor, are insane. We have to be in order to survive and emerge from our isolation. It’s the only way we can live with the pain of what we did. Or didn’t. Each of us accepts the amount of responsibility we are capable of bearing. Some accept nothing, and these people are quickly swallowed by their isolation, their insanity transformed into a rationalized evil. A smaller group accepts total responsibility, and their insanity is an unbearable burden that cripples and eventually grinds them down. The rest of us carry what we can and leave the rest. For myself, Doctor, when a corpse is too heavy to bury I try to remember to ask someone to help me.

This man can hold so much fucking character development 2 electric boogaloo and HOW!! Imagine early seasons Garak saying anything like this! Even while I’ll also buy that early seasons Garak does have the capacity to get to this point in the end after enough work. AND the way it goes with his dream of Cardassia as a mass grave earlier/later on in the book — which also sort of indicates that the person he’s asked to ‘bury these bodies with’, as it were, before, was specifically Bashir. ‘You taught me to ask for help’. I’m so fucking soft for all the ways Garak is showing him that he touched his life in the very best and most beautiful way anyone could, no matter where they go from here.  

- “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just trying to reconcile statistical analysis with Romulan gardens.” We lapsed into a long, stony silence. Usually she knew better than to expect a real answer when she did ask about my working life. We both tried not to venture into certain personal spaces; often the attempt functioned as a barrier. I’m sure she knew that I was more than a data analyst at the Hall of Records. She also understood that the less she knew about what I did the more chance our relationship had to survive. For the same reason I never asked about Lokar. The less information, the less damage if either one of us was betrayed.

Garak that’s kind of sloppy, of course she knows something’s up if you’re making it that easy to figure out lol

Another interesting detail: Palandine seemingly never learns that Tain is Garak’s biological father, then. Very emblematic of the way all those secrets were still getting between them despite their best efforts. And lending even more meaning to the fact that many years later he lets Julian find out in uh perhaps the most direct way possible haha. 

“I’m of two minds. I know, that’s just another way of saying that I’m confused.”

Huh. I wonder if the way this is phrased suggests that that’s not a common expression in Cardassian and he’s translating it directly from Standard or something, or that his uh. Mental confusion/dissociation/fragmentation pops up enough that she’s familiar with it already here? 

“Yes. What if they’re right? What if they could help us reclaim something noble in ourselves? Where does that leave us?” We stood looking at each other. The night wind gusted through the foliage and I wondered where I’d be if I didn’t have this woman’s friendship.

What a soft way to describe it. Really drives home the like. Wholeness of what she meant to him. 

“It was a while ago, Palandine. I don’t know if they’re in the same place … or if they even meet tonight.” Her enthusiasm rendered me as helpless as it did when I first met her.

Julian/Palandine parallels time yet again 

I looked at Palandine, and she now radiated with such light that I turned away, inexplicably embarrassed as if I had seen something I shouldn’t.

So sad somehow that they kind of drift apart in this scene, where Palandine finds something that helps her and he mostly seems to come away lost and confused, if cleansed. (and he still can’t cry with someone else in the room) 

After Palandine had left, I had spent the rest of the night sitting in the Grounds near the children’s area.

How is this so goddamn sad fhkjshfa. They’re still just children, and no one is going to come pick them up from the playground, no one is going to protect them

- “Yes, of course,” I replied. I took a deep breath, and my disparate parts began to snap back. 

Adrift from himseeelf. This is kind of what I meant about Palandine maybe picking up on some of his — this stuff. Which structurally pops back up in The Wire too, with how he tells the stories. 

“You look like you’re not eating anything,” Prang observed. If Tain was the father of the Obsidian Order, Prang was its mother.

LMAO. And he’s constantly worried about his saddest son I guess. Tain/Prang most cursed DS9 rarepair idea???

- His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

Lol diversity win: the mad doctor about to implant you with experimental tech is ambidextrous!

Oh. Oh no it’s the wire time. The fact that he’s one of the first agents fitted with it b/c his hindbrain distress tolerance is too worryingly low  for their comfort…

When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

HORROR SHOW CULTURE ONCE MORE and also. Praise kink revisited and made more interestingly fucked up. Also submission theme thread. 

Do you think he’d meddle with the wire eventually even if he hadn’t been exiled. I feel like there’s a non-zero chance of that.  

- I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

a) ‘what if the glass is not only half-empty but also leaking’ yes very cheery Garak and b) one of the rare times he lets not just his bitterness with Tain but also his longing to be acknowledged by him fully shine through. To me it seems like that’s the one thing that’s still too raw for him to dwell on in this narrative. He mostly doesn’t get into or sit with the pretty obvious fact that he loved Tain, and desperately wanted Tain to love him too. You can see the traces through the whole thing of just how angry he is with him now that he’s dead (GOOD! HE SHOULD BE! HE SHOULD BE ANGRIER; IF ANYTHING!), but that particular element of it seems too vulnerable to keep in sight most times

- PYTHAS IS BACK BA-BEY! 

His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas. 

And the mutual crush endures (also with me I love a sneaky little twink)

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

The way Pythas is like Garak’s shadow — except in Garak’s eyes he does everything ‘right’, he doesn’t seem to have that same aching need for connection, he follows his orders easily, he’s perfect and he reaps the rewards Garak never gets. Garak never even resents or begrudges him any of it. And yet they end up in basically the same place when all’s said and done, in the ruins of Cardassia, and Garak might even win out b/c his trials with the mortifying ordeal of being known mean he has some people in his life he’s starting to truly trust, the way Pythas seems to with Nal as well. Thinking. A lot of things. 

Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life—and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances—no family, no fixed base or identity—and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order. Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke.

Ah, so if Palandine is the proto-Julian, as it were (and Parmak is the silver fox Ersatz Julian), Pythas is definitely the anti-Julian as well as Garak’s shadow hahaha. 

- Garak is undeniably a city boy at the end of the day haha. Pythas help him out there in the jungle he doesn’t belong here I understand why you’re so worried

- In a way it was touching: the old man reverting to the mind control exercises he had learned as a child.

Garak. The warning bells. Should they perhaps be ringing merrily in your mind at this combination of words and letters. Oh well. 

- “Yes, it’s me.” I squatted so that I was at eye level. I tried to soften myself, round off all the sharp edges.

Yes yes yes this is such a good description of that Thing he does. His ‘just a lil guy/tailor/gardener/funny spy man’ move

‘Carriers of disease’ and spreading poison motifs are back. Dukat Sr. uses it here to describe cowardice/Federation ideals/hashtag the SJWs/the forces that threaten to disrupt the status quo of the fascist state. 

- I left the containment field in place and stepped outside to clear my head. No matter how objective I tried to remain, I could never remain totally unaffected by another man’s horror. Fear was a contagious disease.

This seems right to me — I don’t think anyone who could truly shrug off other people’s suffering would have to make up such webs of justification and alienation as Garak does to do what he does. Maybe that empathy is why he’s so good at it and also why it messes him up so bad over time 

His *Working 9-5 slowed down & with reverb plays softly in the background* vibe about it is undeniably kind of funny tho

Contagious disease thread cont too, and not the first time fear is spoken of that way

“Who are you?” he asked for the second time, fighting against the toxin’s effect. This was one tough old warrior.

“Your worst nightmare,” I replied.

“Ah,” he croaked. “Then Tain sent you.”

- YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE fhdkjshasjh good for you Pythas isn’t there to hear it that is so embarrassing Garak (affectionate)

- Garak dreaming of being buried with the still-whispering mass grave of Old Cardassia… what the fuck I don’t think I’d sleep ever again after that haha

Of all of the people he dreams of, most of them are dead (or potentially soon about to be dead? Not entirely sure how that works out for Mila in particular. And I guess we technically don’t know if Calyx is dead, but after so long it seems very likely), except as we find out later Pythas. And Palandine isn’t there. 

NO. NO YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS CALL JULIAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT  W H A  T 

“It’s not a medical emergency. Please, I realize this is an imposition.” There was a silence and I heard another voice in the background. Ezri Dax. A muffled conversation. The Doctor cleared his throat again.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

This is so melancholy I want to disappear into a puddle of quiet yearning and never come back to solid form just put me in a bucket like the Odo. 

This is also the first time in this book Garak has asked Julian for help rather than Julian trying to approach him to give him help (and being rebuffed). He’s called for and he comes :’)

He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young.

Soft little detail time yet again. Garak has been sitting across Julian for years just looking at this face and picking out new details. 

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” he quoted.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.

“Hmmh.” I nodded in agreement, surprised that for once the author of the politically misguided Julius Caesar made sense.

Fhdskhfskjdfhsdjak you say that as if you didn’t quote the politically misguided Julius Caesar to your father’s face on a burning spaceship as you for the first time truly saw that he was as fallible as anyone else and invoking Bashir’s name in the process Garak

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings—are becoming, always in the process of becoming—on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of this level. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant…. they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that….” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was your dream. Even if I was invited … you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned … buried … because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease….”

. . . 

The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me …”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate … ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live—at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ’saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program ….”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must never apologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy….”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The cliche suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot-headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

First name use…

Disease contagion imagery, and this time it’s very clearly symbolizing y’know the fascism of it all. Weirdly moving that Julian takes a moment to gently imply that the disease isn’t inherent in the people Garak loves and has loved (or in him, for that matter), but in the conditions that created them. 

There’s so much going on here idk if I could start to pick it apart yet, I may need to let this percolate in my skull for a while before I know what to say haha. I think part of it is Garak telling Julian to never apologize for showing him the full truth of himself (not least because that also lets Garak see the full truth of himself in turn), and Julian finally relaxing about. Something. He’s been ashamed about something he can finally let go of. 

‘I thought it was a dream, and kept asking myself what you were doing there’.......I will never emotionally recover from this I want to write fic specifically about this lord have mercy on me

- *Tain Voice* with your hippie bullshit and your women! 

*tiny garak voice* woman…

Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued. “Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went.

HE BECAME PROTECTIVE 

You know the way he keeps touching Tain’s arm and shoulder in The Die is Cast, like he’s steadying him or about to step in front of him to protect him or something? Yeah… he burns his hands on this stove over and over and over but he can’t stop trying to touch it :(

This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now… the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.

This is always & forever first and foremost an Enabran Tain hate zone

He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

He’s like a fucking strangle vine he just winds himself into every single part of garak’s existence and chokes the life out of it 

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

. . . 

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks.

Oof. Ow. Ack. 

“And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he was my real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

The biggest sin Garak could commit in Tain’s eyes is to dare to separate himself from him in any way; to be anything but his mirror, to act as if he has any claim to his own soul. I feel like more than what happens with Barkan right after this, this is what Tain considers the real betrayal. 

Tain has never needed to hit him or become physically violent with him to keep him under control ever since he was a very small child, he’s relied on the terrorizing force of emotional violence. And as is so often the case with emotional violence, it’s been insidious and hidden enough, kept to private spaces and in the shadows, that Tain can pretend at plausible deniability b/c like. Who’s Garak even going to tell about it, for the longest time, if a miracle happened and he even found he could? Mila, who has joined the war on emotional violence on the side of emotional violence since probably before Garak was even born? (For understandable psychological reasons, but in unforgivable ways in the role of a parent.) I wonder if ‘making him’ lose control and expose himself and his violence for what it is like this (in public, even!) is also part of what he can’t forgive Garak for. This ah ‘slip-up’ is the first big crack we see in Tain’s image of perfect implacable control (which is very much still the impression you’re left with in Garak’s stories in The Wire too), in the same way that Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast completely breaks that image down. He is getting old. He stayed in the game too long in the end and his iron grip is starting to slip and everything he’s forced to stay in place starts to slip out of that order with it.

Characterizing what Tolan was doing as ‘living with another man’s wife’ is SUCH a subtle burn tho lol like yeah maybe after the strictures of our society you SHOULD have married the mother of your child instead of outsourcing all your decency to the said mother’s BROTHER, Tain 

Aside from anything else going on here (and there is a lot going on)... does Tain even know who Garak is at all, just on a personal level? Why, after knowing him for like 40+ years at this point, presumably, would you expect him to have aspirations or the natural inclination towards leadership, have you ever met him??? He’s one of nature’s perfect right hand men (well. Maybe not entirely nature’s, Tain did this to him very deliberately on top of some basic natural tendencies lol), he’ll get you whatever you ask of him and I think organizing a team under him for you could be part of that when need be, but never has he shown the least inclination towards leadership. (In fact, despite longing for the recognition coming out on top would get him from daddy I mean his peers, he seems vaguely relieved each time Pythas gets to sit in the big important chair instead of him.) He isn’t Tain’s mirror, for all he dutifully tries to move in the ways that make it seem like he is. And Tain should be smart enough to know that, if the narcissism didn’t completely blot out his sight in this situation, and/or it’s just the ‘setting him up to fail and then acting outraged when he does’ pure maliciousness reaching its apex.

(In a kinder time and a kinder world I think Garak could have a real nice time being one of nature’s extremely devoted Partners rather than simply right hand man. And I would like to see it please)  

“From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.”

Oh, that’s the Entek of Second Skin, probably. Wish you a very ‘get vaporized for not knowing when to quit’ in the future entek 

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune … everything changed beyond recognition…. And yet … there was no anger, no self-pity … no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty … and free.

Listen to that voice maybe garak (not that I think there IS any way out at this point or that there ever has been in truth, that’s kind of the tragedy of the whole thing, tain would never ever have let go of him)

- Mila goodbye time: 

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

Mother and son having a Carefully Extremely Civil conversation lol

“Do you know the circumstances … Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

This running thread that almost despite himself he understands and empathizes with her and her situation too much to be as angry with her as he probably should be. He understands her better than she understands him (than she could allow herself to understand him, even if she had the ability to). 

I think that these apparently contradictory elements of his personality are part of what makes him feel so real in some ways, too — interpersonally he can be incredibly petty and jealous and judgemental AND almost absurdly forgiving and generous, sometimes seemingly simultaneously, somehow. The classic containing multitudes meme but like forreals tho haha. That is what real people are like too. 

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn…” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight.

. . . 

Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry … with me. He wants me never to see her again and … to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own … thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

The mother/child relationship here is… y’know I talk a lot about Garak’s daddy issues for obvious reasons, but the fact that his mother recoils in fear when he tries to engage some sliver of real emotional intimacy with her prrrrrobably did some similar amounts of shaping him huh haha. (and he does this too in many ways — that’s partially where his trouble with Julian comes from in this book, whenever Julian tries to get too close Garak flinches away or counterattacks, for all that he clearly longs for it as well.)

The  roundabout way you can tell her love for him even so tho. ‘I don’t care about her’. Palandine is not her baby, Elim, you are. Mila hasn’t been left with the luxury of love to spare for someone she doesn’t even know when you’re setting yourself up for destruction right in front of her eyes…. 

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.”

Palandine/Bashir parallels once more and I really mean it!! There used to be a little Palandine in his head the way there’s a little Julian in there now. (and sadly she doesn’t seem to be there anymore, or maybe he’s just integrated what he got from her and let the rest go for both of their sakes, the same way he let Mila the regnar go when it was time.) 

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability—”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice,” I answered.

“Yes. That’s the one.” She made a sighing sound as she stood up. Mila was heavier now, and moved with greater deliberation. She, too, had grown old. “I suggest you reread it.”

“Tain always came first, didn’t he? I suppose that was your never-ending sacrifice.” I no longer reined in the irony.

I’m CRYING this is SUCH a mom thing to do. Her teen son came home with a book he waxed poetic about and she read it to try to understand him and never told him until now. 

Also: disease contagion theme thread! To Mila, it seems to be tied in with the sentiment reading of it — the way her child’s suffering stains all her safe stable justifications and rationalizations that she needs to stay alive in this system. The remaining humanity that can’t be completely stamped out, even by Tain and a lifetime of fuckery. The ‘imperfections’ of life that can’t be subsumed completely into order. 

Garak I think it’s better if you don’t recommend that book to people it clearly leads to disappointing interpersonal outcomes every time haha

“Tolan understood and accepted his obligations,” Mila said coldly. “But he was sentimental. Like you. That was the one thing Enabran worried about.”

I smiled in sad recognition. Sentimental. Yes, Tain and Mila had definitely shared their confidences and judgments with each other.

“But I don’t blame Tolan. He was a good man.” Mila watched me as I rose.

“Yes. So you keep saying.” I wanted to leave.

“She’s nothing but trouble for you, Elim. End it now. Do what Enabran says and reclaim your rightful place.”

“My place,” I repeated.

“Now, Elim. Otherwise you’re in real danger,” she warned with a certainty that reminded me of the time she’d brought me to Tain after I’d left Bamarren. Mila always knew what was at the heart of the never-ending sacrifice.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, too weary for irony.

“What did you expect from me?”

“To be honest, I can’t remember,” I answered. “Have a pleasant trip.” I smiled and bowed.

“What did you expect from me?”/“To be honest, I can’t remember,” is THE realest description I’ve seen of a mother/child relationship. This might say more about me than I should be comfortable with probably but still. 

“Let Limor know if you’ll be living here.” I nodded. Yes, I thought, that would be my answer. My choice. She shook out her smock to determine whether or not to put it back on.

“Mila.” She looked at me and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for my question.

“Who was Tolan?”

“My brother.” She decided to wear the smock, and I left.

I am SO FUCKING SAD. She puts the smock back on. That’s the closest thing to keeping either of them she gets to have, just the second hand reminder that they were there, small and innocuous enough that no one will know and no one can blame her. In the end Tain takes everything else, and she lets him because it’s the only way to survive him. GET OUT OF THERE ELIM PLEASE 

- On an impulse, instead of leaving immediately, I went down the corridor to Tain’s old office. The door was open, and I stopped at the threshold just as Pythas looked up from a now much cleaner desk. He smiled shyly and stood up.

“Please come in, Elim,” he offered. What surprised me was how pleased I was to see him. Just as I had felt he was the only other person who deserved to be One Lubak, I now believed he was the only other person who deserved to occupy this office.

He smiled shyly did he fhskja. Also Garak’s enduring lack of bitterness towards Pythas is amazing. ‘Yeah I would be mad but he really is that good if it had to be anyone it should be him’

- She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary. 

I’m so fucking glad Barkan is about to eat it for good. I only wish it could have gone slower and more painfully for him. 

I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will.

‘Disparate parts’ motif (dare we say mosaic motif?) detected

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now. 

Barkan’s life is just being haunted by fifty shades of Garak’s shit eating grin apparently 

“Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.

. . .

“But you’re a failure, Elim. You even failed in your attempt to assassinate me.”

“I didn’t fail with Palandine,” I said quietly.

LMAO gottem 

The chemical makeup of Garak’s brain during Barkan’s beating should probably have been studied by science it must be the strangest rave in there

The others were there—my fellow travelers, their voices murmuring tonelessly, producing a steady sound that permeated the medium and intensified our connection. Their voices speaking to me. Their faces, serene and loving, illuminating the darkness as they floated by. Everyone I have ever known. Family. Faces from childhood. Bamarren. People I had known briefly. People I have known forever. Loved. Hated. We were all just together now, sharing the same nurturing medium as we traveled along our currents until we gradually separated.

This… near-death hallucination or spiritual experience or whatever it is vs. his mass grave dream later… very birth vs. death themed

Faces formed and reformed. Each one superimposed on the next in a long line emerging from blackness. Maladek. Merrok…. The molecular structure of one giving way to the next…. Procal Dukat. Tolan. Floating into focus, receding back into the darkness. I shook my head, trying to stop the flow. The Hebitian mask. My face. I grabbed my “face” and screamed into it. The flow stopped. The molecules rushed together and instantly formed Barkan Lokar’s death mask.

I think maybe something came a tiny little bit completely untethered in his head in a way it’s been threatening to for a long time in this moment. It may just be my imagination tho who’s to say

- “Elim Garak. How the mighty have fallen. Welcome to Terok Nor.”

“Oh, I try to visit even our humblest outposts, Dukat.”

“This is going to be more than a visit, trust me. You’ll soon wish that the execution had not been commuted.”

a) ah garak/dukat sniping my old friend b) It seems Tain never spoke to him in that whole process, so that time in the park was probably the last time before ‘Improbable Cause’?. I’m only surprised he didn’t give Dukat the neutral face of displeasure to convey to Garak second hand honestly 

- “I’m sure you gave him a more ennobling position,” I said.

“He was executed,” the toady replied.

“A promotion of sorts,” I muttered. “Certainly in this place.”

The passionate enduring Garak/Terok Nor hateship off to an immediate and roaring start

- Real ‘he gave them the heebie jeebies. He had nothing else left to give’ vibes on garak in this part of his life 

- He arched his brows in a manner that told me he’d worked long and hard in front of a mirror.

There’s always time to appreciate some good Dukat dunking

“Your life means nothing to me. Just as my father’s meant nothing to you.”

“I beg your pardon? Do I know your father?” Dukat made a move to grab me and immediately stopped himself. I was impressed by his self-control; I knew how much energy fueled his hatred.

“No offense,” I went on, further testing his control. “Of course, Procal Dukat was a famous military figure. We all mourned his passing. But I never had the pleasure personally….”

At his most miserable, but also his funniest. It IS really interesting that his humor only really reaches its current state here, when he’s lost Palandine and everything else in his life. It’s almost like the only remaining way to be close to her. 

No, I decided that I was not going to sacrifice myself to Dukat’s desire for revenge. I would do this work; I would do it so well as to become indispensable to the station… and I would survive. I refused to be buried alive in this humiliation.

‘Sort of suicidal: yes; willing to go down in history as one of Dukat’s Ws… fuck no’

- I pick up their garments and mend them flawlessly. When they complain that the price is steep (because I’m treated like a slave doesn’t mean I’m going to start undervaluing my work), I just give them the smile—the smile she taught me.

Fdsahfasj hilarious. You go Garak you know your worth

- (About Pythas and Palandine) At this moment I am almost afraid to discover that they’d survived. A part of me has wanted to bury that part of my life. The defenses I set up to survive my exile are obviously still intact.

I am often joined on my walks by Dr. Parmak. He’s a charming conversationalist, with a first-rate mind. His perspectives are always provocative. He does, however, have a tendency to proselytize for Alon Ghemor and the “Reunion Project” (the name they’ve given their group to remind people of the principles that formed the original Union). Whenever we encounter other pedestrians along our route, Parmak engages them and attempts to win them over to the Reunion side. This often makes for spirited exchanges, and although I am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain, I rather enjoy this peripatetic politicking. It’s something I would never have done on my own. In some respects he is so much like you, Doctor. If I’ve found someone’s opinion insufferably boring, he’ll kindly but sternly lecture me on the value of tolerance.

The wistful longing of ‘in some respects he’s so much like you’. ‘Although i am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain’. ‘Charming conversationalist’, is he. Garak you are a nonsense person and I adore you 

One day I asked him how he had been brought to Enabran Tain’s attention. He never struck me as being a dangerous radical. It turns out that he was Tain’s personal physician, and that the great man had him interrogated because, the Doctor assumed, “he was concerned that I was in an ideal position to assassinate him.”

“I think he was more threatened by the fact that you were intimate with his weaknesses,” I pointed out.

“Well, certainly his physical infirmities,” he admitted.

“Which are also a man’s weaknesses,” I reminded him.

“The paranoia, the secrets, the power he held….” The doctor shook his head. “He must have been a difficult man to work for.” I smiled at his understated tact.

“He once tried to have me killed,” I said.

“Really? What did you do, Elim?”

“I survived.” The Doctor gave me a confused look.

“Survived … what?” he asked.

“Working for my father,” I replied. The Doctor stopped and just looked at me. His former fear of my eyes was long gone.

“A father who would murder his own son?” The idea horrified him. We were in the Barvonok Sector, where the tall structures of business and finance once dominated. “Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, this time with an empathy that stripped me of any illusions I had about Enabran Tain as a father. Surrounded by the piles of debris, oppressed by the low leaden sky, I finally began to surrender to the loneliness and loss that has preyed upon my dreams ever since I can remember. Even nothing is better than the ideas that have brought us here.

Go on without me I’ll be over here crying my eyes out 

- I wonder if Limor Prang was one of the people killed in Tain’s Obsidian Order purge in Improbable Cause. If he  was still alive that seems pretty likely huh. Well. RIP terrifying team mom I guess.  

- Garak got his business up and running for real through a deal with Quark! Puts some of their interactions into perspective haha

I don’t do well with the kind of emotional exchanges humans seem to engage in regularly, and I have little sympathy for those who confuse the responsibilities of family with their duty to the state; but I confess that I am deeply moved by this woman’s plight.

Well it’s good the guy you have a thing for was raised British then he’ll probably feel pretty much the same way you’re perfect for each other

At one point she looked at me and asked me to hold her. I did. As I tentatively put my arms around her, I was so afraid of her need that I tried to keep her body at a distance. She would have none of it. She collapsed against me, and the sobs that convulsed and rolled through her body found correspondence in mine. I bit my tongue until I could taste blood in the effort not to surrender. Gratefully, the door to the Promenade was closed.

He keeps claiming he doesn’t care for the human tendency towards displays of emotionality even as we see it draw him in like a stupid horny sentimental moth to the flame repeatedly. The lizard doth protest too much methinks

- Unless I have business I rarely go to Quark’s; I have little tolerance for noise and stupidity. So when he saw me he assumed that I had another proposition, and I observed him shift into his engage mode.

Fun to see how this changes over the years, then! By the ca. Season 7 part of the book he has a few regular tables and everything. Also isn’t it so sweet that his kind of snotty attitude about this has not changed at all since Bamarren haha <3

- “The dead are dead. Those of us left—who believe in the ideals that have guided our race for millennia—are faced with the threat of utter annihilation by the very disease that has brought us to this sad place. Federation ideas will finish the work the Dominion began.”

Disease/contagion imagery (This is Legate Parn speaking, and he’s basically espousing the same view as Dukat Sr. As far as he’s concerned the call is not and never has been coming from inside the house thank you ever so much lol)

On the other side of Madred was Nal Dejar, a sharp-faced, saturnine woman who had been a member of my last cell at the Order. She once came to Deep Space 9 on an assignment with two scientists, and refused to make any contact with me. Judging from her averted look, she was still refusing. Next to her was a man with a severely disfigured face that was still recovering from what appeared to be burns. One eye was completely covered, and I was careful not to be rude in my inspection.

OH so it’s the lady who came along with Gilora and Ulani! The one who does not care for foreign food 

Gul Ocett was persuasive in her quiet and reasoned strength. Indeed, the irony, Doctor, is that she was espousing the very argument I had made to you any number of times. Even now there was a part of me that accepted the logic of her argument, especially when coming from someone who was neither a fool nor an opportunist.

While you were stealth mentoring Julian in having enough spysmarts not go and get his beautiful twink ass killed at the first opportunity he was stealth mentoring you in the political and ideological underpinnings of democracy and the possibility of being loved BITCH!!!!

I simply smiled at him, genuinely amused by his amateur attempts to discredit me. I was surprised by my responses. I was here to play the role of double agent, and I found that as the meeting went on I didn’t have the energy for the requisite guile and misdirection.

Fdkjfhdsa ‘Aw. That’s cute’. He just doesn’t have it in him to work up the energy for cloak and dagger bullshit and it’s so good and so funny 

And then a strange sensation went through me, Doctor. I looked at the faces of these people. Here we are, I thought, sitting in the basement of a ruined civilization and conducting business as if nothing significant had changed. The enemies were still the same, somewhere “out there,” plotting how to “destroy our character” and colonize us with their political system. And we were down in the basement with our own plots and shifting alliances, tenaciously holding on to the very ideas that had brought us here. But what ideas, Doctor? There’s nothing left. Only fantasies of power. These faces with their masks. With the ironic exception of the disfigured face, the masks hadn’t changed. They reflected the usual range of hidden agendas, each competing for dominance and ascendancy with an energy commensurate to the amount of fear and self-loathing that fueled and motivated that person. I started to laugh.

Amazing showstopping revolutionary good for you Garak

It was him, Doctor. It was Pythas.

EIGHT MY BELOVED WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

“Thank you, Gul Madred, but I can find my way out.” I bowed to the company, and turned my back on them.

I continue to be so proud of him I have no words. And also this is why I don’t like Castellan Garak as a concept AT ALL. Leave him alone to his orchids and sewing and doctor fucking he’s been through enough he doesn’t need that in his life anymore he can do other things to help. Parmak and Julian would stage an intervention. 

- Oh my GOD the cardassians literally just left terok nor without him overnight like Sid’s family in Ice Age fhdskjafh

Garak has been combining the wire AND being a barely functional alcoholic all this time. So at any given time in the first two season the chances that he is not only high but also profoundly drunk are overwhelmingly likely. This explains a lot.  

Rom had a sensitivity, almost a delicacy that was totally lacking in his brother. Was there such a thing as a typical Ferengi? Most people judged him to be simple, as if simplicity was somehow a substandard quality.

Aw. Also maybe some hints as to his reconciliation with Tolan’s memory. 

“Well, Rom, the trousers and tunic fit quite well, don’t you think?” I pulled the tunic down at the back. “Don’t wear it so far up on the neck; it ruins the line. And I’d be grateful if you’d tell any interested parties that indeed I’m still here and very much open for business.”

“Oh, yes … yes! And I like….” Rom made a broad, awkward gesture toward his new ensemble. I thanked him, and we walked out onto the Promenade, as if it were just another business day. We said goodbye, and I watched him march proudly through the ragged celebrants. I had a fondness for him. It was an odd relief, especially at this moment, to converse with someone who literally meant everything he said. 

T________________________T surprise most wholesome dynamic continues to wreck me. 

He stood for a moment, studying me, trying to divine why I had not been allowed to join the withdrawal. Unlike the others who assumed that because I was a Cardassian I had a choice, Odo knew that I’d been abandoned.

“Was there any damage or theft?” he asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew little about Constable Odo, but I was confident that he would never ask me questions that went beyond his function as security chief. He kept his distance and carried himself like someone who understood exile.

Odo appreciation moment as this is his last appearance in the book. Here’s to the small part of the fascist hivemind that harnessed those impulses towards the aim of becoming the world’s best and beigest mall cop. Unproblematic? No. But sometimes you simply love a good problem. 

The fact that the narrative of this section ends right before Garak meets Julian. Probably a matter of weeks, max. You big sentimental sap lmao

- Parmak, Ghemor, and I stood silently among the formations, inspecting the results of our work in the first light.“I mean no disrespect, Elim,” the Doctor said, “but the memorial looks even better.” I nodded in agreement.

“Please, Doctor,” I replied. “ ‘Restoration’ is fine for artifacts and museum pieces. When it comes to building a new community, I think what we did tonight is more to the point.”

“And we did it without murdering each other,” Ghemor added.

“How un-Cardassian of us,” I observed.

This all rules btw . Restoration is fine for artifacts and museum pieces it’s not for things that are alive. Gardener vs. architect/collector, Tolan vs. Tain. 

Alon said: “I think we should get some rest before the competition begins. We’ve done what we can.” It was a wise suggestion, but each of us knew that we were taking a step into the unknown, and sleep at this point was not really a choice. We had done what we could, and probably it was best if each of us retired to the privacy of his own thoughts. We said our goodnights, and as I watched them leave I felt an enormous gratitude that I had been given the opportunity to work with these men. Once again in my life I felt that I had been resurrected from the dead.

Nodding and crying gif. Yeah. Yeah… you’ve done all you could and no one could ask anything more of you. 

- “You know, Elim, I’m neither a soldier nor a politician. I’m a doctor.”

“I do know that. I also know that we’ve been betrayed by our previous leaders. Our only hope is that men like yourself can offer an alternative.”

“But you have the expertise that can….”

“Doctor, I have the expertise that comes from survival and compromise. There’s already plenty of that on the other side … and it’s not an alternative that will create a new and lasting union.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“You’re a doctor, yes, and that’s your strength. I’ve learned something about your profession over the past several years. Don’t think like a politician. Think of the planet as a patient barely hanging on to life. Think like a doctor. How would you save this planet?” He considered what I’d said in his careful manner.

Just as it is vital for a person like Garak to have a little Julian Bashir who lives in his head, it’s probably also good for the Bashirs and Parmaks of the world to develop a little Garak who lives in their heads to go ‘yeah that sounds real nice in theory but now imagine that there are in fact bad people in this world (I should know) who’ll interact with that theory and then act accordingly’ . Garak realizing where he belongs in this whole process tho… 

“Ah, Doctor,” I stopped him. “You can’t go to your meeting like that.”

“Like what?” he asked with a puzzled look. Without explaining, I helped him out of his worn outer coat and showed him a ragged tear in the fabric. Despite his protests, I made him sit down and wait while I gathered my sewing kit and repaired the tear.

“Appearances are very important to these people. You can’t let them think you’re oblivious to details,” I said, as I reunited the torn and separated threads.

The Mila fussing-as-a-love language of it all…

- (About Pythas) The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should include him in a chant for the dead.

DAMN but also YEAH

- I moved to the constructed formation that stood in the space formerly occupied by Tain’s study and almost directly above where Mila’s body had been sadly abandoned in the basement. When I was a boy, I had unending dreams that centered around the memorials of Tarlak. As I lay on my pallet in the basement of Tain’s house, I would plan the scenario that would play out when Tolan took me with him to Tarlak. It would always involve me as the hero paying homage to a comrade fallen in a battle where we had both distinguished ourselves. I would tell the gathered assembly of notables every detail of the battle; people would weep, cheer, listen in stunned amazement as I explained how we had saved the Union from certain destruction. When I had finished, Mila and Tolan would escort me through the adoring crowd. What a terrible irony, Doctor, that those forbidding, impersonal memorials to the heroes of the Cardassian Union should ultimately become transformed into these ragged formations on the grounds of my childhood home … and that I would sit here, a middle-aged man, trying to mourn a fallen comrade who was still standing but barely recognizable. And yet, the irony of a Cardassia reborn with the help of a memorial built from the remains of Tain’s home didn’t escape me either.

Taking immense psychic damage with every word. When do you stop wanting your mom and dad to come pick you up and take you home, even when they’re both dead and kind of not your parents anymore in two different ways even before that? Never, probably 

- “What changed your mind?”

“Your friends, Elim. Very impressive people … and persuasive.”

“What had you expected?” I asked.

“The usual amateurs who never understood what was at stake … the hard choices that had to be made,” [Pythas] explained. “To be honest, I had thought your attachment to this Reunion Project was….”

“Sentimental,” I finished. He smiled knowingly at the reference.

CACKLING. All but openly saying ‘yeah I thought it’s was because you’re fucking the doctor and I know exactly what a god-awful simp you are’ fhskdjafhaskjdh

“As I listened to him speak of the responsibility that we had as survivors to the life that remained, I also realized how bitter and hardened I had become.” He stopped and looked back to Nal Dejar, as if he were making sure she was still there. She met his eyes with a communication I couldn’t decipher, and he nodded. “Nal nursed me back to where I could function … part of me wished she hadn’t. Until your doctor spoke about healing … on every level. It’s what the body wants, he told us … unless we choose otherwise.” Pythas sat with his head bowed for a long moment. “I’d become very bitter, Elim.” I sat on a rock across from him and gently put my hand on his. What was it about this place, I wondered.

Hmngh. ‘I’d become very bitter, Elim’. No matter what choices they made along the way, where they fucked up or where they did everything right, they both ended up in basically the same place, embittered and broken, until someone touched their life with kindness. Nal is Pythas’ Julian Bashir. Coming back to life not as an act of will but because there’s someone waiting for you there saying ‘I’ll help you through it’. 

“Do you know where Palandine is?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Is she still alive?”

In the darkness, it was difficult to read the expression in his one good eye. The silence that followed my question was broken only by his rasping breath. Behind her mask of disinterest Nal Dejar was studying me carefully. Even when she was a probe I was impressed by the strength of her focus. Pythas was fortunate to have her care and devotion.

I think Pythas and Nal Dejar’s whole deal could make for a really interesting story all on its own. Presumably they’ve known or at least known about each other for a long time now, since Garak has seen Nal around even though they’ve never worked together closely 

- Just enough light for lovers; just enough light to begin he says, only to open the next chapter/epilogue with ‘My dear Doctor’ and explaining how he finally decided to send the letter. Healing on every level? Maybe? If we’re real lucky??? 

- My dear Doctor:

Again, forgive my further tardiness in sending this—I don’t even know what to call it. Memoirs of a Cardassian tailor? I suppose that’s as accurate a description as any. You see, Doctor, I seriously debated whether or not I should send this to you. As I went over it I wondered who this mawkish and self-serving person was. Grow up! I wanted to tell him. Get on with your life.

Well, I am; and sending this to you is going to further that cause. As I said, I’m an unfinished man reassembling the pieces of a broken world, and I have asked you to be a witness because you would never judge me as harshly as I judge myself. You would never deny me the opportunity of a second chance.

I feel like those last two sentences are the most important ones in this whole book — it’s what all the rest of it is built on, what made any of it possible. And also it will haunt me for the rest of my days but like in a good life-affirming way lol

His playful grousing about ugh your vaunted democracy *eyeroll*  <3<3<3<3 come down to cardassia so you can have spirited debates turned makeout sessions/foreplay about it already julian please he’s setting you up for so many slam dunks here

I live with my orchids, which have unified and softened the increasingly popular grounds of my home. Their beguiling blooms, and the presence of children who come to play among the structures (as I did in Tarlak), help to dispel the somber mood that initially hung like those clouds of dust over our world. The sounds of their voices as they play function as a music that never fails to lighten my work. The children call it the “tailor’s grounds,” and the name has caught on. Yes, Doctor, I continue to work at my “new” profession. As you can imagine, there’s a good deal of mending to be done.

TAIN’S HOUSE TURNED INTO JUST ‘THE TAILOR’S GROUNDS’ BY THE VOICES OF PLAYING CHILDREN Y_____Y I hope enabran ‘let history be my judge’ tain gets forgotten for anything but his massive fuckup and that garak works some magic with what little fabric he has at his disposal to make the neighbourhood kids like. Stuffed toys he sews clothes for and he’s known as the person to go to when one is damaged so he can patch it back up good as new  while teary little faces watch intently and then brighten. Julian seriously pretends to be his medical consultant as they perform teddy bear operations, what with his extensive expertise in the field and excellent bedside manner. No arm is too amputated to be reattached and we can always find a good button to replace Mr. Tinny’s missing eye in fact he’ll see even better now. I have such hopes for them I have such dreams 

 I have expanded my shed in the never-ending quest to find my place. I feel that I’m getting closer, Doctor, especially as I continue to refine the structures. One, which began as a memorial to Tolan, has a crude but effective representation of the winged creature from the Hebitian sun disc—turned toward the radiating sun, reaching, striving, while the sun-fed filaments stream down from the body and connect with the bodies of people standing on a globe and looking up to the creature for this divine connection…. I’ve attached the recitation mask he gave me to the creature’s face, and somehow it has become my personal totem. I hope that someday you’ll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome, Doctor.

You are always welcome, Doctor is one of those ‘you could slap that on my gravestone and I’d be happy about it’ lines. What a ride huh 

Aside from anything else about this book (I think we can safely let this absolute monster of a three part reaction post be testament to my enjoyment and admiration right I hope I have made no secret of it lol) I want to congratulate Andrew Robinson for getting a novel-length character study written in first person (my beloved) published — as I understand it that’s normally a pretty hard sell in the publishing industry haha he was living the dream I one day fervently hope to as well and the results rule

[merakiui]

Ohhhh i just thought of something! From your pregnant runaway darling with dottore, imagine darling ends up falling for wanderer and maybe he develops feelings too and they become a thing and maybe he's some sort of surrogate daddy to babytorre 😭 all of course while being on the run from dottore

I love to imagine that Wanderer slowly falls for all of the little things about you. Like the way you, even so many months into your pregnancy, will scold him when he cooks something that isn’t compatible or safe with pregnant people. In his defense, he doesn’t know anything about pregnancy! The two of you will bicker like an old married couple. When he accompanies you to the market and you’re trying to haggle prices, he’ll crack his knuckles and threaten the vendor with the sweetest smile. How could you sell these fruits at such high prices when his dearest (Name) is eating for two? You’ll never go hungry when Wanderer is with you.

Or how you like to talk to the baby growing within you every night before bed. Wanderer used to complain about how that makes no sense because the baby won’t be able to hear you. But when you take his hands and place them on your stomach and he feels a restless kick… Now he understands. Or how you always fret over him when he flies ahead to clear out enemy camps so that you can have safe passage. He wouldn’t ever let anything hurt him, but it’s nice to know that you care. Or not! He doesn’t care what you think of him, so stop reaching to pat him on the head when he’s done good work. He doesn’t need or want your praise (yes, he does)! The feelings you give him… They’re so troublesome sometimes.

Wanderer realizes one starry night that this feeling is love. When he watches you snuggle into the tent and he spies your round belly, he realizes you and the child you’ve been protecting all this time are so precious to him. So when he makes it to your stop, he insists on following you to the next one. And the next one. And the one after that until it becomes clear he doesn’t want to leave you. Wanderer will claim he’s prepared when the nine months reach their end, but truthfully he has no idea how to deliver a baby. So when it comes time for you to do so, he’s actually quite worried. Even though he’s taken you to someone who excels in this profession, he still frets over their work. He stands there at your bedside, refusing to let you out of his sight, and he offers his hand for support. And wow do you squeeze so tightly. Are you trying to tear his hand from the wrist?!

The baby has inherited more of your features, so it’s easy to forget that Dottore is the father. Wanderer almost doesn’t want to hold them when you make the offer. He’s too scared that he might hurt such a fragile, precious ray of sunshine. But you trust him. You, the person he’s traveled with for so long now, trust him. He’s so overwhelmed with many emotions that he turns away with a huff, pulling his hat down to obscure his expression.

And when the baby grows and soon learns a few words, most incoherent mashups, and they look at him and call him Daddy… He feels so fulfilled. You apologize in a hasty fluster, insisting that babies will latch onto those they see most often as their parents, and since he’s always around… Wanderer smiles at you; it’s a soft, loving smile devoid of his usual mischief, and he tells you that he wouldn’t mind trying this father role. And since he’s formed such a strong bond with you, he’ll do everything to protect you and this family he’s become part of. He vows to keep you away from the monster that is Dottore.

So when he returns from morning foraging and finds you in the clutches of the Fatui and they disappear just before he can get to you, he’s absolutely crushed. Luckily, the child is unharmed and had simply hid during the commotion. But now that you’re gone and most likely in the clutches of Dottore… He’s crushed under the weight of so many emotions, but nothing is more crushing than the hatred he feels for himself. He hates himself for not being quick enough, for not getting to you in time, for breaking his promise of always protecting you. And he’ll do anything to rescue you.

[all-for-the-simps]

Imagine Tuvok emotionally logically adopting you

Tuvok x son-like!male reader Star Trek: Voyager {IMAGINE}

Word count: 646 Trope: Father-son relationship, mentor vibes, reader has innocently clumsy and chaotic energy, found family, babyyyyy. Pronouns: He/him Context: You’re a relatively young and inexperienced security ensign (human) on Voyager. A/N: I like this concept, if you people want to see this as a oneshot, just tell me :)

🚫female-aligned people DNI🚫

-----

Imagine Tuvok seeing you struggling after Voyager left their stop at Deep Space Nine in the early days. Struggling as in “trying to do your job, but you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.” Tuvok would try to ignore your shenanigans as long as he could, but he’d crack at some point. He’d take you to one side and give you a short lecture and you would immediately emotionall attract yourself to him. He’s like a beacon of hope for you and your frank clulessness at your job. You’re trying to be a good security ensign, but it’s hard when you talk to everyone you pass and trip over your own feet. Tuvok offers to mentor you for a short while to make sure you knew what to do when something serious happened.

Your relationship would grow from mentor-mentee to more father-son, as much as Tuvok wouldn’t care to admit. You admire Tuvok, and it shows. You follow him around when you can and as much as Tuvok would look away sort of annoyed and act like you weren’t there, he admires your outlook on life. You think that Tuvok is an inspiration and you learn a lot from him. Sometimes your perspectives on the way to do things are different, but both of you soon got over those differences and instead used them to analyse situations together to get better outcomes.

Tuvok doesn’t want to admit it, but he sees you as a sort of son. Sure, he thinks you have a tendency to be annoying and clingy, but he knows that if he’s occupying you, you won’t accidentally get yourself locked in the brig. During missions, he always insists that you go with him. Tuvok always says it’s for your “work experience benefit”, but Janeway can see straight through this. She lets you go with Tuvok on away missions and such, but not because of this so-called “work experience”. Janeway knows, like everyone accepts you and Tuvok, that you are basically Tuvok’s emotional support human. No one’s judging, people are just glad to see Tuvok loosen up a little bit and you be occupied by someone who’s a good influence.

Tuvok takes care of you and you take care of him, not that either of you actually realises this. You both can often be seen walking around the halls together, Tuvok lecturing you as you listen intently. You sit with him in the Mess Hall and talk about whatever nonsense you can think about. Tuvok used to be slightly bothered by this, but he later realised that in order to teach you, he needed to know you as a person. So now, he listenes to your ramblings with the same attention you give him when he’s talking.

He’s secretly proud of how far you’ve come since the first time he saw you. He often responds to your actions with affirming words to make sure you know you’re doing alright. In return, you try your best to take every piece of advice he gives you to heart so you can improve.

If you’re ever hurt from either a mission or a minor accident, you can guarantee that Tuvok will be the first person to see you in the Sick Bay. If he’s hurt, you do the same and everyone notices because you won’t be as warm as usual, you’d be jittery. Frankly, if you’re hurt, Tuvok experiences the same sort of thing, maybe in a Vulcan way, but everyone can tell he’s stressed.

Tuvok is someone you can trust, someone who grounds you to the present and someone who will never betray you. You remind Tuvok that he is part of the Voyager family and you remind him of his children back in the Alpha Quadrant.

You are there for each other even if you don’t realise it.

Tuvok: Father of the year, everyone.

-----

I know I haven’t done the requests, I’m so sorry ;-;. I’m trying to get them done, I promise. I’ve just hit a point where I’m trying to get the plot to make sense. I’m giving you this shorter kind of content because I find it easy to write, it's still content for you and it’s fun for me.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

i simply hope you know what a blessing you are to not only this community, but truly the world by continuing to share your art, creativity, and your honesty by allowing us to support and be there for you. it is not only brave, but it gives so much to others that i don’t know if we could ever express. you have so many people, even those who have known you briefly or know you simply based on the art you share, that are honored to have the opportunity to hopefully give a semblance of comfort and support. you are a fucking wonder, simply by allowing others the opportunity to receive your gifts, and hopefully give back to you.

while our words are far from everything that will help you heal throughout this time, i hope we act as a reminder of the people you’ve touched who are thrilled at the chance to be by your side (hopefully not physically, lmao let’s all stay behind our screens.)

allow yourself, if you can, the grace to feel everything, including the ugly feelings. the ones that you aren’t going to want to share with anyone. you deserve to let your body and soul feel whatever it needs, and while it’s scary and heartbreaking, know you attract people who (even behind our screens) want to be there to lift you up and hold your hand through it all.

wishing you nothing but healing time for yourself and the grace of knowing that however you are living through this, is the right way as long as it’s for you.

take care of yourself 💛 take in some of that aussie air and kiss a koala or smthing idk

Sweet anon, I don’t know I deserve such a kind message, this made me really emotional 🥺 Whatever humble offerings I make to this community, I’m floored that you all have given me love and support tenfold in return, and I know I won’t ever be able to repay all of your kindness. I just hope that I can be there for you all when you need the same way you have for me.

Thank you for your sweet and gentle words, I am indeed taking in that fresh Aussie air and all the sunshine and beauty this part of the world has to offer. Please know that your message really touched my heart. Much love to you ❤️

[shabre-legacy]

500 word discord prompt

The ship was strange. Not being on a ship, that had become normal to Fifteen. She spent enough time traveling between Dromund Kaas, Korriban and wherever Intelligence or Jadus sent her that being on a ship was nearing boring. But this one was strange. She keeps returning to the same ship, sleeping in the same bunk, waking up and going to bed with the same people. It’s unsettling to say the least.

And why did it have to be that Chiss Cipher? She’d helped her in the sanctum because she’d felt bad for her. Jadus was never gentle and her first experience with him had been bad. She’d just…well Fifteen didn’t know what she’d wanted. She just felt like helping. Now she was stuck with the woman.

She’s supposed to have someone to rely on now. But how does she do that when every single part of her life is a lie? She’s an agent, but she’s also more. She’s Jadus’s, but she’s not. But she also is and he is dead, or is he? Her true masters don’t care enough to shield her from Jadus’s abuses, but did shield her mind from his probing.

Yet all that had led to Izutsa. The woman was loyal to the empire and even more so to her species. But she was also kind and considerate and challenging. She won’t bend to Fifteen’s demands, gives orders in the field like she was born for it and wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice Fifteen if it would serve the needs of the empire. Yet when Fifteen is injured, they rest. When Fifteen felt off, felt an emotion other than anger, Izutsa noticed. She didn’t judge, she’d just pushed until Fifteen started talking. She’d listened and offered support. None of that was something she could remember experiencing. She is a tool and a toy and nothing more. Yet this strange alien woman treats her as though she’s a person.

It’s awful. Fifteen continues staring at her datapad wondering how to phrase this report to get her out of this assignment. She cannot stand another one of those stupid soft looks of concern when a meal that’s not an imperial ration is placed in front of her. She refuses to deal with another order to sit down and recognize she had an injury. She will not stick around to waste time on sleeping 4 hours out of every 30 when there is work to be done and her masters to serve.

She was created for a singular purpose and this whole life that she was gaining on the ship is too much. Kaliyo, for all her greed and self-centeredness, had even decided to care a little and take her out to experience life without orders. Dancing with the rattataki, hitting the casinos, robbing some corporate sleeze and then running from the casino security and the enforcers of the Hutt Cartel, it had been an experience that kept circling her brain. She’d felt alive in ways only blaster fights had managed.

She was not ok with these changes. There had to be something that Cipher Nine had done that she could use to get out of this assignment.

[midnightechoes]

I feel so bad for the people at Rooster Teeth who had their last day today, either by expiring contracts or by being let go. I also feel really bad for all the fans of RWBY who have real emotional investment in their show continuing and bringing them joy (of who I am one of).

I don’t think that this spells the end of RWBY. This feels like the result of the poor management that saw CRWBY working on THREE major projects at once (Arrowfell, volume 9, and the RWBY/Justice League movies). Instead of spreading these out, they’ve stacked up the production of them so that they were all getting worked on concurrently. And now Arrowfell is finished and out, v9 is probably close to finished, and volume 10 hasn’t been greenlit yet. So suddenly instead of building a steady flow, it was “DO EVERYTHING”, and now there’s nothing for a lot of the animators to do. Which is frustrating. Rooster Teeth is a frustrating, aggravating company, as has been well established.

I hope that the people who have left find great jobs, or are able to return for volume 10 when it’s greenlit, if they want to.

RWBY deserves better than this. For those of us that love it, it’s a magical show that we’ve become emotionally invested in. This project that Monty, Miles, and Kerry thought up all those years ago is special to us, and it deserves to be allowed the space to be told.

But more importantly, CRWBY and other employees of Rooster Teeth deserve better than this. No one deserves to be taken advantage of, or work under conditions that offer little in the way of security or stability. I continue to want Rooster Teeth to do better, to be better, but it’s hard to really believe that they will be at this point.

This fall as a whole has been pretty rough on RWBY fans. I love RWBY, and want to continue to support it, even as I try to figure out how to do that in a way that contributes to its success without supporting RT itself. It’s a hard balance to pull off, one that I’m still struggling with.

But as I said earlier, I don’t think this is the end of RWBY. I don’t know why volume 10 hasn’t been greenlit yet, my guess would be that with work on the video game, movies, and volume 9, they won’t officially greenlight v10 until some of these officially start to come out, which probably means that v10 will be a while before it comes out (end of 2024 maybe). But I think... well, I hope it will happen. I pray it will. It needs to, this story deserves the right to be finished. And I hope most of the people who worked on previous volumes of RWBY get to work on it too, and I hope that the people working on it are compensated, credited, and treated fairly.

[lightcreators]

@thcbriightcst​  // just more misc memes

Anchored  habits  over  truth  distortion  remained  inside  his  mind,  as  an  gentle  possibility  to  not  coping  with  anything  close  to  negative  when  these  sensations  awaken  again.  Actually,  there  was  pleasant  desire  to  offering  her  pleasant  truth  inside  her  concerned  question  —  but  wasn’t  certain  if  he  wanted  to  take  that  path.  Wasn’t  sure  if  he  meritred  any  kind  of  compassion.  Reflected  towards,  as  weeks  passing,  over  that  existence  of  unhappiness  he  was  leading  himself  into,  holding  over  his  illusions  of  joyfulness.  An  brutal  and  sweet  melancholia  born  halfaway  in  middle  of  his  lies,  pushing  him  gently  to  return  inside  old  habits  :  passing  his  nights  on  the  common  room  of  his  House,  finishing  his  homework,  looking  out  the  window  as  a  pleasant  sight  to  sleep  ;  desperately  trying  to  distract  himself    by  revisiting  the  whole  castle  ;  cling  to  the  last  person  connected  to  Potter  finding  all  excuses  possible  to  spend  time  together  to  find  this  comfortable  feeling  of  being  able  to  be  a  supporter,  with  a  few  less  frustrations,  and  additional  joys,  to  loving  every  moment  of  responsabilities  giving  to  himself.  Uncertainty  about  the  cause  of  that  state  eventually  came.  Potter  was  his  punching  ball  of  emotions,  where  whatever  could  be  his  reactions,  whatever  could  be  his  returned  frustration,  whatever  about  his  comments  back,  he  didn’t  care  one  bit  about  consequences  and  knew  he  could  please  himself  as  much  as  he  wanted.  He  didn’t  even  care  to  been  loathed  or  sense  irritation,  for  remaining  that  discrete  sadism  hobby  to  get  reactions  out  of  him  …  where  he  might  never  stopping  that  game.  Without  him,  without  his  presence  inside  that  castle,  without  his  presence  during  lessons,  he  would  admit,  sometimes,  he  would  feel  boredom  over  the  fact.  He  was  searching  to  forget  it,  and  would  pleansantly  find  something  to  tourment  him  in  one  point  or  another  …  as  an  mindful  compensation  for  turmoil  he  was  feeling.  Though,  he  supposed  it  was  trigger  of  mental  damages.

Nevertheless,  as  much  he  used  it  as  an  distraction  most  of  times,  he  really  appreciated  be  around  Granger’s  presence.  He  listened  less  bullshit  that  people  around  him,  generated  some  opening  of  fun  inside  conversations  if  they  had  to  work  together,  had  an  excuse  for  pretending  his  lying  appareance  and  had  an  motivation  for  his  grades.  He  had  lost  a  bet  with  himself:  he  was  unable  to  withdraw  from  shell  he  had  himself  to  enjoy  moments  without  lies  of  perceptions  behind;  he  was  unable  to  remain  in  total  carelessness  ;  he  was  unable  to  look  at  this  school  without  feeling  guilty,  and  to  feel  in  each  wall  it’s  refected,  which  would  take  an  infinite  time  to  leave.  Publicly,  he  was  fine.  Concretely,  he  let  his  pensiveness  take  precedence  at  times,  sometimes  detaching  himself  completely,  and  improved  his  role,  for  knowing  just  that  illusions  wall.  Eventually,  his  own  mind  won’t  find  it  tragic  and  ironic  considering  he  was  experiencing  somewhere  an  state  coming  from  one  concerned  culprit  of  an  sealed  chessboard  —  where,  in  same  manner,  he  used  lies  as  an  shield,  and  had  no  intention  to  say  one  word  of  truth.  Was  secretly  scared  to  never  been  saved  of  it  …  meanwhile  watching  over  that  predestined  future.  He  didn’t  know  what  he  could  expect  to  himself  honestly.  He  barely  accepted  he  was  still  alive,  and  remained  terrified  maybe,  one  usual  day  would  be  his  last  without  warning.Thoughtfulness  hesitation  perceived  inside  lightness  of  an  saddenest  gray  gaze.  There  was  full  consciousness  over  the  kind  of  view  she  offered  her.  Compassion  or  surprise  was  up  to  her,  he  would  react  in  consequence,  and  most  likely  burry  reality  of  circumstances  in  one  way  or  another.  It  had  betraying  him  again,  as  he  had  stopped  his  homework,  in  middle  of  an  quiet  library    …  He  would  never  admit  frontally  he  was  feeling  lonely,  and  didn’t  yet  experienced  the  peak  of  loneliness  he  was  supposed  to  reach,  neither  how  far  he  had  been  himself  lonely  before.  It  was  one  thing  he  would  never  confessing  inside  his  entire  life,  and  if  one  circumstance  forced  him  to  do  that,  it  would  have  to  be  truly  serious.  That  reality  was  part  of  something  bigger.  An  discrete  mental  hi  for  some  people  that  will  recognizing  themselves  inside  how  he  acted  like  them,  and  get  casual  reminder  of  that  discrete  name  burried  in  darkness.  Brightness  was  shut  down  inside  his  expression,  when  he  desired  light  it  up  afterwards,  somewhere.  Currently,  he  decided  to  communicating  an  reality  over  his  feelings.  Something  he  forgotten  the  last  time  he  actually  did  that  —    ❝  I  just  enjoy  being  with  you.    ❞  It  was  perhaps  a  little  too  frontal,  nevertheless,  he  had  the  comfort  of  meaning  with  that  sentence.  He  was  almost  ready  to  admit  that  she  was  a  good  distraction,  but  he  knew  she  might  take  it  badly  —  when  it  was  his  best  compliment  when  there  was  no  hate  associated.    ❝  I’m  having  a  great  time  with  you,  I  just  wanted  you  to  know.    ❞  He  smiled  gently.

[percontaion-points]

Lifeblood chapters 27 & 28, bonus chapter 10

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark image descriptions

Chapter 27

“The warehouse where Shells are made still stands. Now we collect a Shell, go to the Courthouse and offer what support we can.”

Chapter 27 summary: Killian doesn’t exactly come into Troika (he still can’t without turning into ash), but he does bring some light. And it’s enough to turn the battle in Ten’s favour. She has Victor on the ground with her swords pointed at him, and decides to be merciful. Despite the fact that the narration even admits that he would have killed her without hesitation. 

Others show up, including Levi, who tells Ten that Jeremy is okay. He’s hurt, but won’t go to the hospital himself. Mariee reaches out through the grid to give them a boost of light, which is enough to revitalise both Ten and Levi. They then start working to search for bodies or survivors in the rubble. 

Clay shows up after a while, having been freed by Killian. He says that Kayla is awake, and wants to talk to her, so they go. As you can imagine, after a homefield battle like that, the hospital is a mess and full of heavily injured people. Kayla sits with Levi, who is also offering up forgiveness and leniency. Ten sits by Kayla’s bedside, and also offers up forgiveness as well. It’s all quite boring, I assure you. 

Some time later, Deacon shows up to say that Dior’s trial has already started. Ten is like “WTF? How can they do that after what happened?”, but Deacon says that they “missed the deadline to change the date”. So they run to go to the trial. 

Chapter 28

Brigitte’s mother. Smiling, she grabs my hands; she’s the only bit of happiness amid the gloom. “Thank you. Thank you!”

 I simply blink at her. 

“Brigitte signed with Troika this morning!” 

My brow furrows with confusion. “Why?” I don’t understand. I spoke to her once, only once. 

“Whatever you said kept her thinking. She couldn’t escape your words and finally visited a TL stationed in Paris. They spoke at length. She left crying but returned a few hours later to make her pledge.”

Full offence, but I legit do not give a shit about any of this. 

A radiant smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Then let us begin.”

Chapter 28 summary: They hurry over to the courthouse, and sit next to Javier. They watch for hours as Dior’s life choices are dissected. Finally, the man from Myriad acting as her barrister says that she ended up killing a lot of Troika people simply to save her own skin. At this point, dozens of people from Troika stand up and say that they forgive Dior. 

Then the Myriad barrister plays a memory from that morning, of Javier talking to Dior before the trial started. What he says isn’t all that important, but Ten latches onto the fact that it looked like Javier reinfected Dior. 

In the end, Dior is afraid and she chooses to remain with Myriad. So Levi is killed. And it’s some of the most overly dramatic garbage imaginable. Like at this point, if you don’t have an emotional attachment to Levi, this overdrawn death scene is only dragging the book down further. However, his death causes a huge uproar in the courthouse, which results in Killian and Deacon physically carrying Ten from there. Killian says that he has to go into hiding, and will be looking for how to get into Many Ends. 

When Ten gets back home, she runs to the destroyed manna fields where she starts screaming in frustration. Mariee comes to Ten, and says that Firstking has decided that Ten should be the one who decides who is going to be brought back from the rest. 

Ten then runs off to the cave in Russia, where she summons Killian. She tells him about her new role, and how unworthy for it she feels. Killian is like “IDK man. That’s rough” while kissing her. Because of course he doesn’t have any actual advice for her. The two of them eventually agree to enter into their own covenant with each other, and to try and free everybody trapped in Many Ends. 

Bonus chapter 10

Report to Zhi Chen for debriefing.

Bonus chapter 10 summary: Sloan tries to message Killian to tell him that the darkness disease is spreading, and that Killian has to come back so that he can help. But the message bounced, and alerted Zhi about this. 

The book ends on this note. 

[writingwithcolor]

Desexualized Mammy & Strong Black Woman, too busy for “frivolous love”

“Alyse” (Anon Submission) asked:

My science fiction story includes a black woman (Talia) who raises two children that aren’t her own and takes on two young adults as apprentices. One of the children she is raises has Arabic background and was taken into her home upon his father’s death (his mother’s whereabouts are unknown). She was a close friend of his father and the closest thing he had to a relative. The second child has mixed French-Latinx background and was taken in after becoming shipwrecked with no means by which to contact her people. Talia was the first non-hostile individual she encountered and one of the few who would so openly embrace a stranger. Since Talia is Master Medic (the highest medical authority in her community) she is training two apprentices (think residency) and eventually mentors the second child as well. She was once married and passionately in love but lost her husband to illness. In this setting, some technology we take for granted is inaccessible and violence against their people is commonplace. Most have experienced sudden loss. This particular loss was the catalyst that drove Talia into medicine- a desire to protect her loved ones and prevent others from experiencing similar tragedy. She is usually kind (though businesslike) but sometimes succumbs to a frigid, furious depression when, despite all her knowledge and determination, she can’t save someone. 

I worry that her maternal association with the two children (one of whom is an outsider) mires her in the mammy trope. On top of that, she hasn’t pursued romance since the death of her husband. I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career. 

In terms of race and culture in this story, practically every character can trace their ancestry back to populations displaced through war. Even Talia’s second child was shipwrecked during a botched evacuation from a military science lab. The people who live here have been isolated for generations and no longer have a real concept of their ancestry. Cultures have blended, new religions have formed, and many of our familiar racial/ethnic issues are forgotten. However, new and different but equally toxic ones have replaced them. In this way, Talia’s blackness doesn’t carry the same associations in her world as it would in ours. However, readers may still make these associations. Do you see any issues with her character that I could amend? 

So! You have:

A highly educated Black-coded woman (the highest medical authority in the community)

She raises two kids alone 

She also looks after two apprentices

She is widowed (not sure the race of the husband, was he Black?)

Having experienced heartbreaking love, Talia's drive to look after, protect and save people through medicine is a great motivation for the way she is. Her experiencing depression and taking losses seriously is also very human and is dynamic characterization. 

However, such characterization with Black women is prone to brush across several tropes. You have a Black woman who gives and protects, but what does she get in return? Who cares for her? 

Prioritize your Black character’s happiness

"I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career." 

Priorities, priorities. Is love a frivolous pursuit in her eyes, or yours? Because I strongly disagree. You probably don't mean to but you, as the author, having an excuse to NOT give the Black woman romance is showing that you do not think she's worth being loved. TV viewers and stans who are uncomfortable when Black women characters have relationships find similar excuses to explain away not wanting BW in relationships.

"She's too strong and independent for a man/relationship" 

"I liked her better alone." 

"It'll take away from her character."

“A romance doesn’t feel right for her”

These sorts of statements above are grounded in racialized misogyny. 

Relationships do not lessen the woman.

Relationships does not lessen Black women. 

Love

Whether that love is romantic, familial, or friendship, it can come in many forms. Give Talia love. Because Black women characters deserve it! Either one or all! 

Let her have a loyal best friend, a cat, and a girlfriend. Because why not? And not to downplay the love of children to parents, but please provide her love beyond what she gets on a maternal level from the children she looks after. 

The stories that Black women are in today severely lack love for us, so why add to the narrative of Black women being all work and no play, and too [insert excuse here] to be loved? 

Of course, you didn't provide all the details from your story, but I'm not seeing much of a balance from the struggle. She is a caretaker, teacher, doctor (or doctor-like figure). 

Her position and background in itself is okay. It's the Strong Black Woman being presented with seemingly no commentary that strikes me. 

Where is her team to help balance the weight of the world? 

Who takes care of her when she's depressed from another loss? 

What does she get in return from taking an emotional and physical toll to heal her community? 

Do those around her recognize all she does for them and offer their friendship? 

When does she get to relax and turn off the need to be everything for everybody?

Fitting love into a book with many characters

There are many books with several characters to keep track of. People tend to manage. Also, I'm sure some of those characters are in and/or out of relationships. Even stories that couldn’t be classified as romances have relationships of some sort. It’s unrealistic to have a ton of characters and none of them be in relationship(s) of some sort. Not when there’s so many forms of it and many sexualities. 

Friends, frenemies, enemies, romance, affairs.. Relationships make stories (and life) interesting. By no means do I think adding these dynamics harm your tale. And what’s one more for a hard-working Black woman who sacrifices a lot and clearly deserves a shoulder to lean on? And, if you use an existing character to be that friend, family, or lover, then you won’t need to pencil in another character.

For romance specifically - I think a misconception when it comes to including romance in stories is that they have to somehow take over the story. Romance does not have to bombard the plot nor be described in lavish detail. Not every story is a romance and those sort of details aren’t everyone’s style or things they’re comfortable with. A sentence or two establishing relationships does not take away from the story.And how those relationships look and affections expressed will vary based on the characters, sexuality, etc.

Not every character needs to have a deep level of detail. 

“Katie and Lisa, a newly engaged couple, walked into the meeting.”

“Jack and Jamie are a married couple in their 40s.” 

“The two met in college. After two months of blissful courtship, they eloped, eager to start their happily ever afters. Twenty years together, they were still blissfully in love and never too far from one another.”

Sentences like the above are enough for some characters. You don’t always need to put in paragraphs worth of relationship-establishing details or plot. 

When it comes to the characters whose love you would like to highlight, at least a bit, you still don’t have to go over the top.

Use subtle details. 

“As soon as Talia’s back was turned, he gave her a longing look before shaking his head and getting back to the patient.”

“He squeezed her hand before taking hold of the stethoscope.”

“She kissed her wife goodbye before racing out the door.”

“You mean the world to me.” he had said, holding her face. Those words stayed with her all day, making her heavy load light as a sack of feathers.

“She soaked his shirt with her tears and he just held her tight, saying nothing, silently holding her together.”

As for Talia specifically…

Talia having the mindset you described, as love being frivolous and not a priority, is understandable knowing her background (I just don't agree with you as the creator using this as a means to keep her alone. Whether she’s romantically alone or without close friendships). She has lost so much, and continues to experience loss with patients. This can be extremely traumatizing. I gave some examples of being subtle, so perhaps that will help with the burden of feeling a thick subplot of romance doesn’t fit in your story. 

And as Talia doesn’t strike me as someone who would go looking for companionship, what if she stumbles upon it without trying? Is there someone on the medical team that can offer her friendship? Someone who admires her and feels the urge to care for her that she feels the same for, or has pushed feelings down for? What happens when she can’t hold those feelings down anymore?

Takeaway

Talia deserves healthy love, even if she doesn’t believe it or feel she has time for it. That love can come in any and many forms, not necessarily romantically required, although it is a plus. A struggle-ridden novel is balanced by love, support and rest for characters that hold the weight of the world. If you do not, evaluate why you want to write Black characters in these struggle roles without at least a social commentary. 

~Mod Colette

[domino-waki]

taking catlad au and putting my own spin on it. technically making him worse than regular tim since he didn’t need a cat god to keep him alive.

 Basically, Jack Drake gets some illegal cat merch from an archeology dig, and Selina wants it. Tim does his tiny baby stalker thing, figures out who Cat Woman is, and breaks into the area the thing is being and waits for her. He tells her the deal, and I guess, not wanting to be cursed or whatever, she goes to return it. With a baby boy in her luggage.

Tim makes the offering to Cat God since it was his Dad who fucked it up, and Cat God is like “damn dude, nice, have a boon” but never tells them what it is. Tim does get some cat boy behavior, but Selina also does the same shit, so she figured the kid imprinted on her like a duck.

She keeps an eye on him for the next couple years. With his kind of absent parents, he bonds with her easy. She never planned to take him on heists, but he was a smart kid, and there were things he could help with. She wants shiny things, but she only uses the kid for his big fuckin brain, and never takes him out into danger. but she trains him for self defense. 

then Jason Todd dies, and Tim is like “hey mom, gotta go tell Dick Grayson to dress up like a watermelon again, Batman needs a Robin.” and Selina is like “YOU KNOW THEIR SECRET IDENTITIES???” and Tim is like “yeah? don’t you?” and I don’t know if she did at this point in the comics, but Catboy Tim becomes Robin and has a real crisis about helping Batman do the justice thing while having helped Selina steal shit. She only had him help her steal from real assholes, but still. crime.

Bruce is very suspicious about why Tim knows the layout of some buildings so well.

Tim doesn’t become catlad (Or Kitten as I’ve been calling him) until after he’s healed up after Jason gets his ass. Bats wont let him back as Robin, but Tim knows that Bruce needs an emotional support child in order to not be fucked up and evil. So if he play Robin, he’ll be the Kitten that funnels wayne enterprises money into many different charities and shit. He does a lot of robin hood ass crimes actually. He doesn’t take anything of personal value to people, and if he scoops up something nice from some asshole, he can pass it on to Mamma Cat.

and Bruce is just standing there like “am I really going to send my girlfriend *and* her son to prison? When He mostly steals from me and returns stolen artifacts to their rightful homes? and my girlfriend who is very hot?”

anyway that’s the Kitten Backstory bullshit I got.

oh yeah, and tim, now knowing he won’t die, puts himself in more danger. He’s going to give his cat mom a heart attack.

OH and he loves Helena so much, good sibling time on one half of the family.

OOC on probably everyone’s part? probably. am I having fun? oh yeah.

[slasherhaven]

what about,,,, the slashers reactions to getting properly hugged,,,, like no words, just pure affection and support,, like im here for u its okay to be vulnerable w/ me,,, if you didn't do it already obviously!!

The Slashers’ reacting to being properly hugged:

Thomas Hewitt

This man needs a hug! But he won’t feel comfortable initiating physical affection until you’re in a relationship and he knows for sure that you’re comfortable with it. Then, he’s vert affectionate.

This means that he needs affection but isn’t going to ask for it.

But you knew this because you knew him. So, you sighed before wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

You just wanted to offer him some love and support, to let him know that you are there for him if he needs you.

Thomas was surprised by he absolutely melts and he certainly isn’t going to push you away. 

He’ll wrap his arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly against him. 

He won’t pull away until you do.

If it happens when he’s more comfortable and confident in your relationship, he will lift you up and move to somewhere he can sit down, he’s probably been working all day and is tired. So, he can just hold you like his own teddy bear. Not that you mind at all.

He could just cry the longer you embrace him. He didn’t even realise how much he needed this until now. But now he’s going to need at least a hug a day, please just make this man feel loved and cared for!

Michael Myers

Michael, of course, hadn’t done anything to prompt your sudden act of affection. But you knew that he was a little more human that people tended to assume, and that meant that he needed affection too, he would just never ask for it.

So, you wrapped your arms around his waist and held yourself close to him. Holding yourself against his chest, you couldn’t get closer if you tried. 

Your eyes were scrunched shut, unsure of how he would react to the embrace.

He did give you a small push away but you just tightened your hold. You just needed him to know how you felt, that you were there for him, and you hoped he understood what the gesture meant.

Michael isn’t likely to wrap his arms back around you but his mind is a mess (a rare thing for him) as he allowed you to hug him, his arms still by his sides.

He does understand your message...he’s just unsure of what to do with it.

Jason Voorhees

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Jason needs a real good hug. He needs somebody to accept him, to love him, to be kind to him.

And what better way to tell him all of these things than a proper hug?

It’s when he comes back to the cabin, and you know what he’s been doing and you know that he doesn’t feel great about it, more because he feels like he’s dragged you into this.

You let him clean up and as soon as he enters the room you’re in again, you walked up to him and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a silent hug.

You didn’t need words, you didn’t need to say anything. You hoped he would understand what you’re telling him. He did.

Your embrace caught him by surprise but he still carefully wrapped his arms around you, still so worried about hurting you.

The gesture was exactly what he needed in that moment, something that just reminded him of your love and acceptance.

He won’t pull away until you do, the two of you just standing in the middle of the room in an embrace. There is nowhere he would rather be.

Brahms Heelshire 

This is exactly what he needs! And he knows that this is what he needs.

Ever since the two of you started knowingly living together, all he’s wanted is for you to show him genuine affection, more than a chaste kiss goodnight.

He wants you to love him and show him that love, he wants you to care for him and hold him.

You had just noticed that he seemed stressed lately, which is actually because he wants your attention but he attempting to be a gentleman about it, not pushing you too far too fast.

But you knew what he wanted, what he needed. So, you have it to him.

You had patted the seat beside you and, of course, he was quick to sit with you.

He just wasn’t expecting you to silently wrap your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

Brahms isn’t going to pass up the opportunity though! He will instantly wrap his arms around you even tighter that yours were, making himself comfortable. 

Will bury his face into the crook of your neck or into your hair, unable to get too close to you. And don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon.

He always knew that he wanted/needed your affection, he just was aware of how much a simple hug would mean to him. You were the only person to accept him in so long, maybe you really would love him just like he needed.

Bo Sinclair

This man needs a proper hug (or any sort of affection) way more than he would ever let on, or even think he does.

When you first embrace him, arms wrapped securely around his waist, he faltered for a moment. 

He’d probably pat you on the back or something before trying to pull away or push you away, assuming you just wanted a hug.

But you didn’t let go. So, he’s sigh and wrap his arms around you, expecting that to satisfy you.

But you still don’t let go...

The longer you hold on to him, the less he can pretend that he’s annoyed with it, the less he can pretend like he isn’t enjoying this.

For a moment he actually lets his walls down, tightening his hold slightly and resting his chin on top of your head, making you smile to yourself.

He’ll even close his eyes and just let it happen. Unless one of his brothers comes into the room, then he’s pushing you away, clearing his throat and pretending none of that happened. But you know.

Vincent Sinclair

It’s been a long day. Bo was in a bad mood and taking it out on him. You could see the draining effect it had on Vincent and you knew exactly what he needed, some love.

So, once the two of you were alone and you knew that you wouldn’t be disturbed, at least for a little while, you wrapped your arms around Vincent and just met him in a hug.

Vincent returned the embrace despite his surprise, never being one to refuse you, especially when it came to affection.

He had expected a quick hug but you just stayed put, your embrace making him feel warm in the best kind of way.

He isn’t going to argue with it, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head. 

He’ll probably lose track of time, staying there like that for as long as you’d let him.

It’s like Bo had beat him down with his shouting and ranting, but you were building him right back up with your love and support.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had just returned home from visiting his brothers in town, and you know that he either had a pretty good time or it would have been pretty rough. They’re the usual two outcomes of his visits.

Apparently, this was a rough one. You could tell from the sigh he let out as he shut the door behind him.

You didn’t hesitate, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him, quickly pulling him into a loving embrace.

He didn’t hesitate either, instantly wrapping his arms around you in return and burying his face in your hair.

He loves coming home to you but he loves this even more. You holding him like this, making him feel so welcome and loved, he would never get tired of this feeling.

After so long, will probably ask if the two of you could just cuddle on the couch for a while instead. Standing wasn’t very comfortable but he wasn’t ready to let go of you just yet.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is never ever going to turn down one of your hugs. 

So when the two of you finally get some peace and quiet and you pull him into a loving embrace, he instantly lets out various happy babbles as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him.

He’ll happily stand there for as long as you let him, just holding you. But he would prefer to sit down with you, so I suggest guiding him over to the bed or a seat and then pulling him into a hug.

He just loves you so much and can’t get enough of your love.

Just something as simple as a hug makes Bubba melt, just the love and attention you are giving him. 

Making him feel so close to you, like you’re right there for each other because you are.

Billy Lenz

As soon as you guide him into a hug (guide, don’t pull), he will latch onto you and refuse to let you go.

God, when was the last time he had a hug? And he’s never had one this good!

It does make him a little emotional. You’re not letting go of him but he doesn’t feel trapped, he doesn’t want you to let him go. In your embrace he feels so supported, so accepted, so loved. He can’t get enough!

He didn’t think he needed this so much, he never thought that something as simple as a hug could make him feel so good.

He’ll nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling so quietly that you can’t understand what he’s saying. But, just know, that for once it’s not anything lewd.

An extended hug isn’t enough though. The two of you are probably going to end up cuddling on the couch or bed for a little while afterwards. 

Just hold him...please.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

You have to catch him by surprise and that is very difficult to do. Just when he isn’t expecting it.

Maybe he’s just come back from the hotel, expecting you to be asleep. 

But as he’s quietly undressing to join you in bed, you get up without him hearing and pad over to him.

You wrap your arms from him from behind. He’ll let out a small sigh, asking why you’re awake, but you just shrug and tell him you’re glad he’s home.

He’ll turn around and wrap his arms around you but is a little confused when you don’t pull away. At first he thinks you might be upset about something but that isn’t the case...whatever it is, he’s got nothing else to do. 

So he’ll hold you for a little while, slowly coming to terms with how nice this actually feels.

But you both need some sleep, so he’ll mumble something about going to bed. And if you don’t comply, he’ll just pick you up and carry you over to the bed anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

He’s just come back from a ‘business trip’, he always comes back in a good mood from this sort of thing but he tired from travelling. 

You had greeted him at the door but saw it on him, he was tired.

So you just wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, hadn’t even thought anything of it at the time.

The embrace was tight, a welcome home but also some reassurance that everything was alright and he was home now.

He wouldn’t turn down a hug, so he wrapped his arms around you, a hand holding the back of your head as if cradling you to his chest.

When you don’t pull away, neither does he. 

He loves what he does and if glad you accept him for it. But the travelling can be tiring and he does find himself missing you.

So he lets out a silent sigh before lifting you up into his arms, making you smile as he carries you up to the bedroom. It’s good to be home. He might have to start taking you with him.

Otis Driftwood

Get him when he’s tired. It’s the best chance you have for a hug to just stay a hug, and for him to accept it without fight or question.

When he’s tired and alone in his room, join him. Crawl up beside him, wrap your arms around him and just hug him. 

He’ll raise an eyebrow at you, confused and curious, but he’s not going to stop you.

When he’s tired like this, he’s more likely to let those softer, human, emotions show.

He’ll wrap an arm around you and hold you against him.

But the longer you just stay there, the more he relaxes and starts to make himself more comfortable. 

You make him relax, and he may never understand why.

Don’t comment on it when he lets out a sigh, wrapping his other arm around you as well as he shifts, nuzzling his face into your hair. Don’t comment on it, just smile and let it happen.

Baby Firefly

You’re pretty sure Baby never stops, almost constantly upbeat and full of energy.

So if you were to hug her, she would just eagerly hug you back, smiling widely before slipping from your grasp to drag you away somewhere.

Get her when she’s angry with another member of the family, when she’s pouting or ranting about them.

Just pull her into a loving embrace. She’ll continue to complain but will still return your hug.

She’ll slowly calm down and relax in your hold, her embrace becoming secure but soft, affectionate.

You have a good effect on her, she just can’t be mad when you’re around and she knows it.

She isn’t quick to break the embrace now, just holding you makes her feel better so that’s what she’s going to do.

Yautja (Predator) 

Probably the only one in this list who doesn’t need a hug in some way or another.

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t enjoy it! He definitely does!

At first he’s a little taken back when you wrap your arms around him, head resting against his torso.

But he certainly isn’t opposed to this.

He’ll return your embrace, even starting to purr, which is always a good sign. He’ll probably start to stroke your hair as well.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of the affection that humans likes to give ad receive, he doesn’t think he could ever go back to how things used to be for him.

What would he do without all your little kisses, your hugs, your gentle touches. He couldn’t be without them now!