#Dukat/kira is already dark

[nothingwronghere]

Sandstorm on Dozaria (Indiscretion)

(I used the name Skrain as first name for Dukat. I know it is not mentioned during the series DS 9)

Skrain was amused about being on such a harsh planet with Major Nerys. Because he felt good in the heat while she definitely didn’t. She hid it well, he had to give her that, but her face was red and the short hair stuck to her forehead.

The mission in itself wasn’t amusing at all, but Skrain used Nerys’ discomfort to lighten his own dark mood.

“I am not sure we are going in the right direction.” Nerys stopped and moved her tricorder from left to right. Then she shook it with impatience. “Damn thing, I need a signal!”

“Let us get up there.” Pointing at a hill not too high, Skrain didn’t wait for the Major’s agreement. They would have a better view from up there, even with the technic from the Federation, that was always a good idea.

Concentrating on the ground, since it was sandy and tricky, Skrain only looked up when he had reached the top. Nerys was a few steps behind him. She might struggle with the heat on Dozaria but she was fit enough to keep up with him nonetheless.

In front of them there was nothing except more sand covering more hills. But when he turned, Skrain’s eyes widened. “Fuck.” Behind them, the sky was dark. Not the kind of dark during night, but the kind of dark that promised a storm. A sandstorm. It held a distinct tint of darkness, combined with the sense of dread that spread over the ground.

Major Nerys swore when she saw it. She immediately tapped her communicator. “Kira to shuttle, beam us out.”

The shuttle was closer to the storm, maybe already in the middle of it, but it would be a safer place for them than out here, with no shelter.

Nothing happened.

“Probably interferences.” It wasn’t uncommon for a sandstorm to play havoc on the technology, no matter how advanced and Skrain already scanned their surroundings for at least a bit of cover. While Nerys swore and tried to establish the connection to the shuttle, the air around them got heavier. There was no other word for it, though it wasn’t truly what happened. But it felt heavy, charged. The sky changed colour, not only getting darker but redder, as if it was sending a warning about the incoming storm.

In their vicinity, and nothing further than a few hundred meters was close enough for them to reach before the storm hit, was nothing truly of use. A few small bushes, patches of grass and pebbled areas (they should steer away from them because getting hit by pebbles instead of sand was worse).

There were a few stones, not too small to be carried away by the wind though by far not big enough to truly be a protection. If he was alone, Skrain might curl together where he was standing and simply wait. His skin was thick enough and the heat was no problem. But first, he didn’t know how sandstorms on Dozaria took place and second, Major Nerys wasn’t as equipped for such a weather as he himself was. He might be amused by her discomfort but he didn’t want to get her killed.

“I can’t get a connection.” Nerys lowered the tricorder.

The wind already picked up and brought more heat. And swirled the first grains of sand through the air. They had a few more minutes, tops. “There are some stones, I guess they have to be good enough to protect us against the worst of the storm. We can’t outrun it and we won’t be able to get back to the shuttle in a sandstorm.”

Skrain started walking and strangely enough, Nerys followed without argument. Skrain made sure Nerys didn’t get lost when their vision decreased due to more and more sand. The last few steps to the stones, Skrain grabbed Nerys’ wrist so she wouldn’t accidentally wander in the wrong direction. He didn’t have to tell her to lie down, as soon as she saw the biggest of the rocks, more red than grey in the eerie light, she curled together, her back against the stone and her forehead pressed to her knees.

Within seconds, the Major was covered by a fine layer of red-brown sand. She looked very small and Skrain felt the sudden urge to protect her. Instead of curling together beside her, he lay down, facing Nerys, and curled around her. He was so much bigger, he made a solid wall of cardassian body against the storm.

“Dukat, if you touch me I’ll skin you, sandstorm or not.”

“Major, I’m merely trying to help.” Not a complete lie. “I won’t suffer as much from the storm, it is only sensible that I shield you from it.”

“Fine.” Ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ll skin you if you touch me in any way that is improper.”

Skrain smiled. She was fierce and always so angry, it was fascinating. Scooting as close as possible, Skrain laid his hand over Nerys’ face, to create a small hallow space in front of her mouth with as little sand as possible. It wouldn’t be much help, but maybe just enough to not make this hell. In return, Skrain buried his nose in Nerys hair. That would be no help at all, but her hair felt nice, all soft and light, and it smelled sweet. How utterly delightful, to find out that Nery’s smelled sweet.

Then the storm hit full force. It was hot and sandy and most uncomfortable. The wind tugged on Skrain, the sand rubbed over his skin and the heat burned. He tightened his hold on the Major, because these temperatures couldn’t be good for her. She didn’t protest, which was a bad sign.

It took seemingly forever for the storm to pass. Breathing was difficult and Skrain concentrated on every single breath he took. If he inhaled too fast or too deeply, he’d have to cough and he wanted to avoid that. To distract himself from the unpleasantness of the weather, Skrain paid attention to every movement from Major Nerys. She didn’t move much but he could feel the rise and fall of her chest and now and then she shuffled a bit, just the tiniest bit.

She was small and vulnerable right now, which astonished Skrain because he had never before seen Nerys as either of these two things. Her confidence and persistence compensated for her physique. Well, she was strong and she definitely wasn’t small. But curled against his chest, she was a soft female, smelling slightly sweet and it was such a contrast to her usual appearance that Skrain was amazed by it. He savoured it, all the softness and sweetness. Just for himself. Just because. And maybe to annoy her since she would hate that he had seen her like this. Later, when the storm was over. She’d hate him more for having seen her vulnerable.

It was fine, it would bring another layer of hatred into their relationship, at least from her side. He didn’t hate the Major.

It would also bring another memory in which Skrain had been superior. He was superior right now and Nerys would hate that as well. Which was why he loved it.

The storm ended abruptly, as if someone had simply switched the wind off.

Skrain had expected Nerys to push him away immediately, but she remained lying in the same position. “Major?” Moving his hand away from her face, he touched her shoulder carefully. When he got no answer, he decided to take stock of his own body first.

He rolled onto his back, which hurt but not overly much. His armour had protected him well enough. He stretched his legs and arms. Then he scrambled onto his knees and brushed the sand out of his eyes and his nose. Fuck, it stuck everywhere, even underneath his clothes. Able to open his eyes and to breathe (a little) through his nose, Skrain looked over at the major. She was alive, but her clothes were rubbed thin on a few places and her suit was light brown instead of red.

The sun was out again, yet the air wasn’t as burning hot as it had been during the storm. Funny, that.

“Major Nerys, time to get going.”

Finally, she moved, uncurling on the sand the same as he had done. She sat up, shaking her head to get the sand off, then rubbed over her face. She blinked, eyes red-rimmed and face pale. She coughed, winced, shook her head again. She looked like hell but except for the wince, she didn’t complain. She struggled onto her feet and reached for her water bottle. Not completely steady, Skrain watched her. He wouldn’t catch her should she fall, he would enjoy it too much to see her stumbling and weak.

As soon as she looked at him, he smiled. “You owe me.”

“What?” Voice a bit raspy from the heat and the sand, the confusion was hearable well enough.

“Because I protected you. Probably even saved your life. You owe me.” Skrain would leave no room for misunderstandings. To be able to tell Nerys that, to have her indebted to him, it was delicious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Outrage now, quite clearly, and Skrain’s smile widened. Oh, how he enjoyed angering her.

“I don’t kid. And I plan to collect. I’m sure this debt of yours will come in handy one day. Maybe you will have to protect me and save my life.” At her obvious disbelief, Skrain continued: “I’m looking forward to it.” He did. It was the full truth.

He began to walk, into the direction they had been going before the storm had hit. He didn’t wait for the Major, she’d follow soon enough, as soon as she had her anger under control. She was probably sore but he didn’t care because she was strong, she wouldn’t let the aftereffects of the storm slow her down. Not when it didn’t slow Skrain down.

It was wonderful, all that had happened so far. Skrain had seen Major Nerys weak and vulnerable, he had felt her softness, he had protected her, something she would’ve never permitted him to do if it hadn’t been to save her life. And now she owed him. Fuck, it was fantastic.

With a wide grin, Skrain trudged through the sand. The sky was clear, the storm had completely vanished. It was warm and sunny. It was a beautiful day.

#star trek #ds9 #kira #nerys #dukat #gul dukat #I don't ship them #i ship Dukat with no one #because I'd feel eternally sorry for that person #I wanted to write this scene #i love dukat #i hate dukat #I am fascianted by him #love when he is an arse #I'd want to skin him if I was Kira #sandstorm #dozaria #enemies #enemies to enemies #protection #debt #myfanfic

[generalstarkiller]

(Alien, crawling under human skin) vs (I wanna fucking tear you apart)

Some Dark Timeline moodboards for October

#star trek ds9 #trektober2021 #darkest timeline #bad romance #possibly triggering #darkgarashir #Dukat/kira is already dark #Kira nerys #gul dukat #elim garak #julian bashir

[merinnan]

Fic Tag Game

Grabbed from @hils79, because it looked like fun.

Name: Merinnan, which I’ve gone by for... fifteen years now, I think? Prior to that, I mostly used Calicia (and sometimes Zoi).

Fandoms: Like Hils, I’m only going to list the fandoms I’ve actually written fic for.

Star Trek: My very first fandom, and the one I’ve written the most fics for (so far - I suspect that DMBJ will overtake it. It certainly already has in terms of word count). I was (and am still) primarily a DS9 fan, and was a huge Kira/Dukat and Garak/Bashir shipper back in the day. Most of my Trekfics are DS9 fics, but I also dabbled a little bit in TOS and TNG, and had one or two crackfic crossovers that involved Voyager characters. Discovery has tempted me with a few fic ideas, but I haven’t written anything for it yet.

Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon: aka, the show that first had me seriously questioning my sexuality. Look, Haruka and Michiru are #goals, don’t judge me. This is also where my Zoi name came from, after the first season villain Zoisite, whom I cosplayed several times. Unsurprisingly, my main ships are HaruMichi and KunZoi. Despite this fact, neither of my published Sailormoon fics are HaruMichi.

Bubblegum Crisis Tokyo 2040: A short-lived fandom, but one I still liked enough to write a fic for and get the OST CD.

World of Warcraft: I wouldn’t say I’m really part of the fandom, per se, but I’ve been playing since the dying days of Burning Crusade, am a huge lore nerd, and started writing a crossover fic that is currently on indefinite hiatus. I do plan to come back and finish it, but first RL got in the way, and now I have to try and remember where I’d actually been planning to go with it.

A Court of Thorns and Roses: That crossover fic I just mentioned? Yeah, this is what it’s a crossover with. ACoTaR fandom went sleepy for awhile, but it’s back up and kicking now that A Court of Silver Flames is out - if any of you are still following me, it’s great to see everyone active again! To the surprise of no-one who knows me, I’m a big Nessian shipper.

Mo Dao Zu Shi / Chen Qing Ling / The Untamed: I came to this fandom via ACoTaR, actually, after a certain person (hi, @rhysand-vs-fenrys!) wouldn’t stop gushing about it :-) This is the fandom that really and seriously got me back into regular fic writing again after 15-ish years. I’m a multishipper here, and have written / am writing WangXian, NieLan, XiCheng, XuanLi, and XiSang.

Guardian / Zhen Hun: MDZS fandom led me to Guardian, which, along with DMBJ, has devoured my life in a way that hasn’t happened since my Star Trek days, and I love it! WeiLan is my major ship, but I’m also quite fond of the DaMian life raft.

Zhu Yilong: Yes, I’m going to list a person as a fandom. Zhu Yilong is one of the stars of Guardian, and is both incredibly pretty and an incredibly talented actor. So much so that I have suffered through some truly terrible dramas just to watch him in them. I do not write Z1L-fic, since RPF of living people is a personal squick of mine, but I am working on a massive crossover fic of most of his characters.

Mo Du: Guardian led me along to more of Priest’s works, such as Mo Du, which is now officially my favourite book, and I adore the main WenZhou ship. The Mo Du fandom right now is pretty tiny, and I’m still working on my first fic for it, but I hope that it will grow with the donghua due out this year, and the drama having just started filming.

Daomu Biji / The Lost Tomb: I initially came into this fandom because of Zhu Yilong, who played Wu Xie in the Reboot / Reunion / Chongqi drama, and then I got sucked into the fandom pit of all of the books and dramas and spinoffs, and it’s wonderful and fantastic. I have written so much for it, and have so much more planned. PingXie and PingXieSang are my main ships here, but I’m also a HeiHua fan, and very much enjoying the RiSang pool noodle that @kholran created.

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort and crack are my major ones.

Fic I spent most time on: A toss-up between Endings and Beginnings and Reunion, both DS9 fics. Endings and Beginnings is an alternate ending to the show, while Reunion is a Gul Dukat-centric fic set around, oh, season 5ish? Both were written for and initially published in print fanzines, so in addition to time spent writing, there was a lot of back and forth for editing, etc.

Favourite fic(s) you’ve written: Look, I honestly couldn’t say. I like most of the fics I’ve written, and there are several that I’m really proud of and really like.

Fic I spent least time on: Silent Graves, a super angsty DMBJ/Lost Tomb Xiaoge fic. I think I wrote it in like 15 minutes.

Longest fic: Cat’s Paw, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang canon rewrite fic I co-wrote with @xantissa, at  247 826 words. For fics written by just me, not with a co-writer, then that would be Nevermore, my WIP MDZS/CQL XiCheng Pacific Rim AU, at 22 276 words and counting.

Shortest fic: Every entry in my DS9 Drabbles series, with each one at exactly 100 words. Although if you count them as a quintdrabble, then Indiscretion (a DS9 missing scene vignette about Gul Dukat, set during the episode of the same name) at 169 words.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks/subscriptions: The answer to all of these is either Cat’s Paw or Nevermore, so I’m going to give the next highest.

Hits:  Those who fear darkness have never seen what light can do, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie supernatural AU fic co-written with xantissa.

Since this fic also takes the highest kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions after Cat’s Paw/Nevermore, I’ll skip to the next fic along on each of those.

Kudos: Stars fall like diamonds, a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie missing scene fic from Reboot/Reunion/Chongqi.

Bookmarks: A Knight in Bloody Armour, another DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang supernatural AU fic (but a different supernatural AU) co-written with xantissa.

Comments: Ears and Other Related Calamities, yet another DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXieSang supernatural AU fic (of a different again supernatural AU) co-written with xantissa.

Subscriptions: The Rescue Job, a Guardian WeiLan Leverage AU, currently at one chapter complete and posted out of a planned five chapters.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: We have plans for a prequel and a sequel to A Knight in Bloody Armour, and a spinoff fic for The Zhang Identity (a DMBJ/Lost Tomb PingXie AU that is complete but not yet posted. It will be posted in April as part of the Small Fandoms Big Bang).

Share a bit of a WIP: This is from an as-yet-unnamed post-canon fix-it fic for the Guardian drama:

It was hurting again. Zhao Yunlan curled up into a tight ball under the hospital blankets, trying to ignore it enough to try to get back to sleep. He knew it wouldn't work, because he couldn't remember a time when it ever did, but it was always worth a shot, right? He squeezed his eyes shut and held himself tightly for a few...moments? Minutes?...before grabbing his stuffed cat and clutching it while he forced himself to breathe deep, slow breaths the way the doctors back in Spring City had taught him.

Eventually, the pain died back down to its usual dull ache, the one that was bearable and let him play, and watch TV, and do school lessons with his mother. One day, she said, they'd find a doctor who knew what was wrong, why he hurt all the time, and the doctor would give him medicine that would keep the worst pain away so that he could go to an actual school and meet more kids than the ones who lived in their apartment block or who frequented the same playground that he liked to go to.

Zhao Yunlan tried closing his eyes again, seeing if he could go back to sleep, but he was far too awake now. He sighed, sitting up in bed and looking around the room. Again. It was just like the hospital rooms in Spring City, and in Kiyota City. He figured that if the doctors here in Tomorrow Mountains couldn't help, his parents would take him to yet another city, and the hospital rooms there would probably look the same, too.

Then, over the faint beeping of hospital equipment, and the quiet murmurs further down the corridor of nurses at the nurse station or seeing to other patients, he heard a soft sniffling sound, like someone was trying not to cry too loudly. He picked up his stuffed cat and looked at it.

"What do you think, Dead Cat?" he asked it. "Should we go and find them?"

Dead Cat didn't answer, of course, but that didn't stop Zhao Yunlan from assuming that it agreed with him, and slipping out of bed. His feet touched the cold tile floor with barely a sound, and, still holding Dead Cat tightly, Zhao Yunlan padded over to the door. He looked up and down the corridor, then left his room to track down the sniffling noise.

He wasn't surprised that it came from the next room. He was surprised that it came from another kid, a boy who looked to be about his age, huddled in bed and wiping his eyes.

"Hi," Zhao Yunlan whispered. The other boy looked up in surprise, then stopped to clutch his chest as he began to cough. Once he'd finished coughing, Zhao Yunlan and Dead Cat were perched on the end of his bed.

"I'm Zhao Yunlan, and this is Dead Cat." He held up Dead Cat, moving one of the paws to wave hello. "What's your name?"

The boy wiped his eyes again. "Shen Ye."

I tag: ALL OF YOU! Are you a writer who hasn’t done this yet? Consider yourself tagged if you want to be.

#fanfic meme #dmbj #daomu biji #guardian #mo du #star trek #ds9 #bishoujo senshi sailor moon #sailor moon #mdzs #cql #acotar #bubblegum crisis #world of warcraft #zhu yilong

[stephantom]

DS9 reaction thoughts (for the first several episodes of season 6)

So, that was a pretty remarkably solid 8-episode run of DS9, starting from the season 5 finale, up through the 7th episode of season 6. All-out war, unexpected plot twists, good character drama, bookended by two weddings. 

I peaked at the summary for the next episode and saw that mirror!Kira is involved, so it looks like we’re about to hit the usual mid-season slump of filler eps, maybe? But I also saw that some of the seemingly most beloved episodes are coming up later this season too, so that’s cool. (As well as one widely hated one, lol.) 

I’m worried that there isn’t going to be any good on-screen follow-up addressing Odo, Rom, and Quark, and What The Fuck Happened There. It seems like Kira and Odo are already working through it, but, there were... other people involved in all of that. I hope the show doesn’t forget that.

(I hate that Odo coming to his senses was framed as being All About Kira. I just don’t like something about this romance. It’s like it’s cast Odo (or Odo’s cast himself) as like the phantom of the opera, you know? No one can love me, brood brood, meanwhile the narrative framing is clearly trying to suggest that like... Odo can be hot, women throw themselves at him, Kira will come to love him, her love will Redeem him, etc. It’s like it both aggrandizes and reduces his character at once. And meanwhile, it still has never felt like Kira has reciprocated--from her point of view, he feels like a complex, confusing friend who’s suddenly thrown a lot of really weird expectations and baggage at her. And fictional romance can be messy and dramatic and larger than life, so none of this is necessary really bad, but I just don’t really enjoy this one. All that said, the scene with Dax going to bed after her party and then finding Odo and Kira chatting in the closet, apparently having been hashing things out the entire night and not realizing it was morning... was cute, ok.)

Um, other things:

I really liked teenage (in Klingon years?? but 8-year-old?) Alexander. The episode which introduced him was a bit slow, but he himself was charming and adorable, and even more so in the next episode.

Speaking of adorable teenagers just doing their best... Nog! Becoming an ensign! Going through all these battles and secret missions! Being brave and competent and still funny!

ROM! Being a hero. (Look, at part of me unfairly has kind of resented Rom for like... getting retconned as The Nice And Progressive Brother and getting a character arc and stuff, when Quark does not, which I know is crazy of me. But, he has been winning me over for a long time, of course. He’s just a good dude.)

Quark ALSO getting to be a hero and vindicating my conviction that he’s the kind of person who, with much handwringing, will ultimately come through for his friends when everything is really on the line. 

Also Quark getting drunk with Damar was pretty fun, as well as, you know, good and brave. (Idk why his impression of Rom was so funny (“Uh, he doesn’t know”), but it was. Just, perfect comedic delivery.)

Also Quark repeatedly suggesting that they find a way to reach out to Odo for help when Kira is like, “No, you don’t get it. He does. not. care.”  :( :( :(

The Vorta are pretty delightful

Dukat creepily playing with Sisko’s baseball all the time :/ I love that they’ve made him such a sleazy shitbag and just fully embraced it

Ziyal! :(

The Jem Hadar! :( That suicide charge in “Rocks and Shoals”? The Jem Hadar are just so... tragic? Every episode that really involves them as characters just drives that home

That Vedek suicide protest!! what a dark moment for Star Trek, wow

Also, not at all on that level, but thinking of “What, on Star Trek?!” moments, Martok’s wife called Jadzia a slut. Just, straight-up called her a slut. lmao yeeeesh. 

A part of me really likes the idea of Worf and Jadzia, but I’m also like... Jadzia shouldn’t have to get married? Jadzia should keep feeling free to throw parties and dance with fire dancers? It’s hard to forgive Worf for the terrible characterization of that Risa episode still, god.

Um, Miles and Julian reciting “The Charger of the Light Brigade” together and the continual reminders of all their off-screen holosuite adventures together was nice. Also liked them suffering through Worf’s bachelor party together. 

Odo’s fucked traitorous turn was upsetting, but I kind of knew about it in advance, so I wasn’t shocked, but I was distressed. It was good though. I like how the link is described. I mean, it would really fuck up anybody to temporarily like... fully merge identities and consciousness with somebody else, especially somebody who claims to love you and be your heritage and family and self and future, etc. (And I think the founder even means all that too. They’re manipulating him, but they believe what they’re telling him too.) So, on the one hand, I can understand and forgive him, but on the other hand, I hope he isn’t just let off the hook by everyone for that because... that was fucked up, man. Don’t do heroine.

I did not see that wormhole prophet miracle coming, but it was powerful and so was the moment before it. Did not see the minefield grid coming down. etc. That was a lot of well-written suspenseful, exciting writing. I guess this stretch is part of what makes people say that DS9 was ahead of its time and a real deviation for Star Trek for having an ongoing, serialized story. That felt like a modern bingable sci-fi adventure, you know? I hope it picks up like that again. Not that I don’t also love the quintessentially Star Trek shenanigans episodes too, and they definitely have their place in the mix that makes DS9 so good and enjoyable. (And episode 7 was basically that. So was the episode right before this story-arc, with Jake and Nog trying to get that baseball card from the dude who kept talking about the soulless minions of orthodoxy--all very fun and good.

#ds9 thoughts #ok i actually got out more thoughts than just a vague 'it has been good' this time #... to the point where it's ranty and probably hard to read lol but oh well!

[weerd1]

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1909.05: Missions Reviewed, “A Time to Stand,” “Rocks and Shoals,” and “Sons and Daughters.”

“A Time to Stand” picks up three months after the Dominion seized Deep Space Nine in “Call to Arms.” Dukat has been unable to bring down the minefield at the mouth of the wormhole, but neither is the war going well for the Federation/Klingon alliance. The Defiant crew heads to starbase while waiting for word from the Seventh Fleet, which is undertaking a major offensive against the Dominion. Word does come: out of 112 ships, 14 have survived. On DS9 things remain civil, but Kira is unable to convince Dukat to allow Bajoran security to patrol the ship again.

 Jake is writing stories for the Federation, but Weyoun refuses to send them out due to their “bias.” Benjamin meanwhile is taken out of command of the Defiant and the sector admiral, Admiral Ross, assigns him to the starbase pending further orders.  They are not long in coming though as the Jem’Hadar ship Sisko captured the year before (in “The Ship,”) has been refurbished. The Defiant crew are to take it and destroy the main ketracel white production facility in the Alpha Quadrant. On the way, they end up glad they brought Garak as the Command interface is giving Sisko a migraine. 

After narrowly escaping a Federation ship that doesn’t know who they are, they get to the facility, intending to beam a bomb down in the empty White container. They are locked down though, and Bashir uses his genetically enhanced brain to devise and escape velocity that will keep them ahead of the bomb but not bounce them off the shields. The bomb detonates early though, and the ship is damaged; their warp drive gone, Bashir estimates it will be 17 years to get back to base.

Season six starts off strong with a very contiguous story arc. The first six are actually very serialized, but we have reached peak Deep Space Nine. All of the major players are in place, and the writers and actors all know who they are playing and how. The stakes are high and we are now examining humanity facing an existential threat. Great use is made here of Doctor Bashir’s mental talents, and for the first time we allude to his believing there is a good chance the Federation will fall. Kira is also well represented here as someone who has to bide her time and seemingly assist the people who she is sure will try to capture her world. The tension between the Dominion represented by Weyoun playing the long game, and the Cardassians represented by Dukat and Damar ready to be the tyrants they were before Cardassia “lost its way: is very well presented. The Cardassians are licking their lips at the possibility of re-occupying Bajor, but the Dominion’s tactics are so much more subtle.

“Rocks and Shoals,” has the damaged Jem’Hadar worship with Sisko and crew on the run. Chased by other ships, they duck into a dark matter nebula to avoid the enemy fire that has already severely wounded Dax. Out of control in the nebula, they are pulled into the atmosphere of a planet lurking within. On the station, things have fallen into a routine, and Odo, Quark, and Kira admit that this is a far more peaceful “occupation” than under the Cardassians.  Odo approaches Weyoun to restore the Bajoran security force, which Dukat wants to deny. Weyoun immediately concedes, in exchange for Odo joining the station’s “ruling council.” Jake asks if this move somehow gives legitimacy to the occupiers. He also asks Kira if she will stop the Vedek led protest planned for the next day. Kira goes to Vedek Yassim, an older woman, to get her to back off for now, to bide her time because “this isn’t like with the Cardassians.” The Vedek asks how it is different, and then is the only person who appears to protest the next day: she hangs herself on the Promenade after declaring “Evil must be opposed!”

 Kira begins to see herself as a collaborator, and she and Odo decide it is time to begin some form of resistance. On the planet where Sisko and crew have crashed they are stranded but find there is a Jem’Hadar crew already stranded there with a wounded Vorta. 

The Vorta negotiates with Sisko to have Bashir save him, and then tells them that they must kill the Jem’Hadar. There is only one remaining vial of ketracel white, and when it is gone, the 10 soldiers will go mad with withdrawal and kill everything they see. In exchange, the Vorta has a subspace transceiver O’Brien can repair.  Sisko talks to the leader of the Jem’Hadar about how they can be put in stasis and all saved, but he refuses, leading his men into Sisko’s attack, all of them dying. The Vorta brings the radio, and Sisko has to fight the impulse to kill him as well.

The juxtaposition for Kira here as the young angry freedom fighter, to the person biding her time, to someone who can no longer just wait and has to take an active role is fantastic here, as is the desire of Sisko to try to solve this situation without just murdering ten Jem’Hadar soldiers.  The Vortas continue to be smarmy and conniving with Kivas on the planet being as bad as Weyoun. The Vedek’s protest feels like a Buddhist monk in Vietnam setting themselves on fire, and Yassim’s appearance may be brief, but it is striking  and memorable.  Parts of Bajor are coming to the realization that a benevolent occupier is only benevolent when the occupier is happy with you.

“Sons and Daughters” begins when Dukat brings Ziyal back to the station. Ziyal wants to have dinner with Kira and Dukat to share something important to her.  Kira is resistant (literally as part of the resistance) but gives in to Dukat’s request. 

Martok’s Klingon ship the Rotarran brings Sisko and crew home from the Dark Nebula with their Vorta prisoner, and Worf goes back out on mission with the Klingons. New crew arrives including Alexander, Worf’s son, who has decided to try to live as a Klingon.  He is small and weak and timid however, and has a real problem finding his place, also finding much conflict with his father. Alexander feels his father has abandoned him as Worf feels he was only protecting his son. Ziyal reveals she has become and artist and is going to be exhibited on Cardassia. Dukat decides to throw a party for her, and Kira is invited.  She is willing to go for Ziyal’s sake, but when Dukat sends her a dress as a present, Kira goes to him returning it and tells him that she simply cannot have any part of a relationship with Dukat beyond her station duties, believing Dukat to be an opportunistic despot. She leaves, and Ziyal enters asking who it was. Dukat tells her it was a delivery, bringing them the nice new dress he got his daughter for the party. The next day Ziyal asks Kira where she was and Kira says she knows Ziyal can’t choose between them but she will not be part of Dukat’s game.

 On the Rotarran, Alexander continues to bungle things, but then when the ship is damaged in a skirmish, dives in to do what must be done to save it…before accidentally locking himself in the compartment. Worf accepts that Alexander must choose his own path and reconciles, while Alexander accepts the name “son of Worf” and is inducted into the house of Martok.

For Kira the occasional hint that there might be some reconciliation with Dukat ends here. She is done, even with Ziyal in the middle, and this defines how the two will act toward one another the rest of the show. A little strange having a young but adult Alexander here, as timeline wise he should only be about eight or nine years old having been born late in TNG’s second season. This acceleration was done for dramatic reasons, but that now means that Klingons must mature and grow quickly. This seems at odds with Worf hitting normal human milestone when he grew like high school and entering the Academy at 18 but…space man, it’s outer space.  Perhaps time dilation plays in as well.

NEXT MISSION: The DS9 resistance learns the minefield may soon fall and a Founder comes to the station in “Behind the Lines.”

#Star Trek #Star Trek: Deep Space Nine #DS9 Rewatch

[wolf-in-a-suit]

Freedom of press: Dominion style

Show: Star Trek DS9

Summary: Gul Dukat, the undisputed winner of the war, will not let anyone make fun of him! So, a hunt for the culprit- you- ensures. Throw in a Vorta, and a Ferengi, pushing their noses into other people’s business and there you have it: One stressful day, for the resident human left on DS9. Well, dear reader: I wish you the best of luck!

The day Gul Dukat started hunting a ghost, began with people smiling at his passing figure. Bayorans once more in the clutches of the Cardassians- with a little help from the Dominon- oppressed, and under his thumb on Terok Nor: Were smiling at the man, that conquered them! Were their delusional brains finally snapping? He passed the center of operation, and there it was again. Somebody sniggered behind his back! The great military leader whirled around, but every officer wore the exemplary of an impassive expression. Though, something had caught his keen eye.

He took three well measured strides to the youngest officer on duty, a small Bayoran male, and snatched the data pad in one fluent motion from his hands. Exalting at the horror crawling onto the young man’s face, Dukat allowed a self-satisfied smirk to grace his features. However, after his eyes ghosted over the first sentence, the muscles in his face began to loosen, the grin disappearing. After a whole paragraph his teeth were clutched tight, and the blood in his body reached critical temperature. "Who wrote this?" He demanded. Only silence answered, at first. Finally, the young officer caved under the intensity of the smoldering black eyes. Stuttering he grasped for any word, in order to form a coherent sentence: "Nobody knows w...who p...posts these... articles. We’re... not even... s...sure if it's a Bayoran o...or someone else." Black eyes narrowed, a very low voice, promising years of pain for the next transgression- or disrespectful gulp of breath- retorted: "Articles!?" The s stretched into a long, hostile hiss. Looking at the terrified faces of the personnel, he knew he got all the information- as pitiful as it had been- out of them. When the Gul reached the conference room for his daily meeting with Damar, and that weasel Weyoun, he was seething. Articles, indeed! There existed quite a few of them. Each a greater jab, at the competence of the new ‘already crumbling command - short ACC' than the last. One of them described himself, attending the great harvest ceremony of Bayor as a guest of honor,- he could be quite persuasive, and ever the diplomat- Weyoun had claimed, attending would smooth things over with the locals. The first thing that assaulted his eyes was a photo of him stumbling into the Kai, in a very much undignified manner. If he remembered correctly, this had been the result of one of these filthy farmers tripping him- the last thing he ever did-, yet the article came to a very different conclusion: 'It's so nice to see our esteemed Gul enjoy himself, after all that hard work keeping a few officers on DS9 in check. Though, perhaps he should cut back on the Kanar, lest he starts molesting our Kai.' The audacity! He would see whoever was behind this decaying in the depths of the Cardassian work camps! "Why the gloomy face Dukat? What possibly could have irritated your normally so composed person, hmm?" The Vortas eyes twinkled with mischief, blue lightning mixing into the violet hue of his eyes. Bam! In one swift motion the Cardassian slammed down the pad, right before the diplomat. To Dukats ire this did little to impress, least of all startle the hated man. The only reaction Weyoun graced him with was a raised eyebrow. "And what could that be, now?" "Some low life has the gall to ridicule us in anonym articles!" He pressed through gritted teeth. He expected surprise, anger perhaps, or panic on the face of this annoyance. What he got was: A fake yawn.

"I must say, it took you quite some time to stumble upon them. Not that I expected better of course." Dukat was dumbfounded, then anger from an untapped source deep inside, welled up. In contrast, his demeanor became very still. "How is it..." he began in an almost civil tone "that you don't inform me, about rebels UNDERMINING OUR OPERATIONS!?" The scream was a hot coal that finally dropped, very liberating. The Vorta, like always, payed no heed and had simply grabbed the pad and started reading. Here that little weakling sat, legs crossed, the pad held before him: The picture of a man on a slow Sunday, reading the comics in the morning paper. A chuckle shook his whole frame. "This is my favorite: ‘I must defend our beloved Gul on his actions against the drunk, ninety year old Bayoran: Everyone who came into contact with someone at such a headstrong age can agree that there is no escape, no action against a cane crashing to your behind’. Weyoun turned the pad and sure enough, a picture of an old Bayoran connecting his cane with Dukat's hindquarters littered the display. With a lightning fast flash of gray scaled hands the pad was snatched from the Vorta’s grasp and flung through the room. Crash. The impact, and cluttering of tiny pieces to the ground was the only sound resonating in the suddenly very silent room. Gul Dukat took a deep breath, flaring nostrils stilled somewhat. When he opened his eyes again, they shifted like lava of a Vulcan on the verge of erupting. "I will find the one responsible! And. Make. Them. PAY!"

"And one Ra'taj coming up, for my favorite human of the station." The Ferengi slid a steaming cup over the counter, his smile exposing sharp, bend teeth gleaming in the light. Expertly snatching the cup and taking a swing of bitter liquid, a trained motion almost second nature after years spend on DS9, you watched the short man with a dubious expression. "Quark, I am the only human on the station." He scoffed "Semantics! Any paying customer is a good customer, even-" and here he regarded your beverage with distaste "-if they prefer to drink something destroying every flavor receptor on their tongue." You couldn't hold back a grin. "Rule of Acquisition number... ?" "That's just common sense honey, speaking of which..." He leaned over the counter, his eyes losing their mocking quality. "I love good reading material like the next guy, but in times like these, it's the writers who lose their heads first! Would be really stupid, to poke a sleeping Tark if you ask me." "Quark, are you worried about little, old me?" While you feigned surprise, Quark blocked with the shrug of his shoulders. "Not at all, I just have too much Ra'taj on my hands, and you're the only customer drinking that stuff!" The last swing of the bitter brew streamed down your throat and you knocked on the bar in parting. "I think you're just going soft, in your old days." The annoyed look of the barkeeper followed your exiting form. Slowly, the annoyance was replaced by worry, and dread creeping into his expression. This was however, easily hidden once a new customer entered. "Welcome to Quarks! What can I help you with? " Sweat formed on your brow and trickled down your neck, even though it wasn't anywhere near warm in the cargo bay. He was on to you! You simply knew it. Trice this day, you had tried to link your pad to the main computer, in order to publish your newest article and every time Gul Dukat had somehow appeared out of thin air in the vicinity. You had no idea how he did it. Your only consolidation was his searching gaze, indicating that he wasn't onto you just yet. But judging from the smoldering look on his square features, it was only a matter of time. So, that was how a rabbit felt when the snake slowly sneaked around it, ready to smother all air from its tiny lungs. Speaking of air, had it always been this hard to breath? Crash. The steel tire vibrated only for a second, the pain in your fist however would sting for quite some time to come. 'Pull yourself together! You knew this could happen, don't chicken out now!' Red defiant, untamed hair flashed through your inner vision. Major Kira would never weaver like this! Fresh air streamed into your lungs, after the large inhale your hands were only left somewhat shaking. You stepped next to the console, ready to begin the upload. The rhythmic beeping of the control panel soothed your clenched muscles.

"Well, this certainly is interesting!" You whipped around and sure enough: Behind you sitting on a crate, legs crossed was Weyoun. The embodiment of the powerful Dominion, crushing any resistance in its way. With a steaming cup in hand, he was the very picture of confidence, and superiority. And,... was that smell... you sniffed, catching the scent of Ra'taj. The creepy smile on the man’s face let no room for doubt: ‘No, I don't enjoy it, just showing off, how much I know about your insignificant existence.’ When he realized, that you got the message, his smile stretched even wider, almost turning feral. Violet eyes, gleaming in the dark. "My, my such courage. Such… defiance." His cheerfulness did little to hide the cutting edge of his tone, dragging over your flesh ready to draw first blood. The only thing you could choke out, was a weak: "How d..did y...you know?" "My dear, you didn't delude yourself for one minute that I wasn't aware of what is going on, on my station, hmm?" "N...no!?" 'Damn this stammering, Kira would be ashamed!' "Well then." With a wush and an inexplicable grace, the Vorta flopped down to the floor. "While your articles have been, rather... amusing. I think, it would be time to try your delicate hands-" here he gingerly took your cold hand into his "-at something new. Before Gul Dukats reputation- or your life- is damaged, beyond repair. Wouldn't you agree?" These unnatural eyes burned into yours, driving the point home that this wasn't a request. While the tightening of his grip on your hand added: 'I might be a diplomat, but this isn't a negotiation. Don't let it become a tribunal!' Your nod was very weak, but he seemed to still pick up on it, in the shadow filled room.

"Excellent! Now that we are probably acquainted, I look forward to seeing you far more often." His purr sent shivers down your spine, fear and something you couldn’t place, mixing into an unknown emotion. The weight on your hand vanished and instead of the humanoid skin, the ceramic of a cup warmed your too cold extremities. "Drink up! After all, you have a long shift ahead, and you must be exhausted after writing for three days, on that new- very amusing I might add- article about Damar." If your blood pressure was low before, the ice setting in your veins at his words couldn't be very beneficial. The Vorta turned and headed to the door. "Such a shame, that no one is going to read it." With the wush of an automatic door, he was gone. But the sentiment of paranoia he gifted you with, would stay with you for a long time to come. In the end, you stood frozen in the dark room, not daring to move a muscle. Finally, when the warm glow of the cup dissipated, you started to regain control of your shaking muscles, and headed out.

#star trek imagine #star trek ds9 #weyoun x reader #quark #gul dukat #quark x reader #gul dukat x reader #dukat x reader #weyoun #star trek #star trek deep space 9 #weyoun imagine #quark imagine #gul dukat imagine

[midshipmank]

For the Star Trek asks, 3, 4 and 15?

3. Top 3 least favorite characters? 

Oh man. I’m just gonna….hide. Okay, okay. Dukat, obviously. And then Admiral Marcus from Into Darkness (though I could easily substitute this one for John Frederick Paxton from the Enterprise episodes “Demons” and “Terra Prime” because it’s the same actor and the characters are pretty similar). And Garak. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4. Already answered! :)

15. Top 3 favorite alien crewmembers?

Oooh, okay, so Kira and Spock, and I’m kind of tempted so say that little creature the AOS crew picks up in the beginning of Beyond, but I’m gonna go with T’Pol. 

I feel like some of this could change once I watch more Trek, but for right now, these are my answers :)

#cloaked-romulan-warbird #asks #Star Trek

[cyrelia-j]

[Fic] Deuces II: Knights (Garak/Bashir)

Yeah it's a continuation of that story though I completely blame @eilupt for the direction it took with all the tattoo talk. More Pre Garashir but it's definitely there haha (Also, it got long)

Part 1 if you missed it

AU (no Dominion) Garak and his surrogate daughter Ziyal find themselves on Deep Space Nine on a stopover to Bajor. Now having secured a date with the attractive doctor both Garak and Julian find themselves getting ready for the evening with a little help.

“Are you going to tell me what the handsome doctor whispered to you yad’, or am I going to have to audit you?” Ziyal’s works the oil into the scales of his bare shoulders firmly. One of her fingers is already insinuating itself behind a sensitive spot near his shoulder blade making Garak twitch. She knows all of his weaknesses. The “audit” is the euphemism he used to use for his previous occupation’s primary function when she was younger. It strangely grew to mean a nerve rending tickle torture between the two of them to get answers to silly inconsequential questions. Garak looks ahead stoically. He absolutely refuses to break this time. “Though I may owe you a debt of gratitude, my dear I assure you that I will not crack even under the worst torture.” He can feel her making a childish face behind him. It certainly won’t help her case but they both know that there are certain aspects of Garak’s dates and relationships that he prefers to keep private. She in turn, refuses to this day to tell him exactly what had gone on between her and that wild child Rugal behind the back wall of the garden.

Ziyal flicks one of the ridges of his neck. “Fine. But I’m not going to tell you anything that Major Kira and I talk about tonight either.” She absolutely will, but Garak allows her that moment, relaxing as she rubs more warm oil between hers hands and starts carefully working the scales of his back. The oil is a careful blend designed to make ones’ scales shimmer majestically while not ruining the delicate fabric of the underlining of his shirt. Ziyal insisted that he wear the dark red silk with the high neckline. “Better to give him a lot to wonder about, right?” Garak had agreed when he saw it coupled with the dark black pants she suggested. They were a touch immodest but then again with Julian’s incredibly forward invitation modesty is hardly his main priority. 

“I suppose that leaves us at an impasse,” Garak declares dramatically. Ziyal laughs softly behind him. He’s seated on the bed with her kneeling at his back rubbing the oil excitedly like she used to when she was younger. His first date since becoming her adopted father years ago was a mess of nerves and he’d nearly pulled something, causing an awful ruckus trying to reach every spot himself. She’d come in fourteen, snippy, but still such a sweet girl deep down finally offering to help. When she went out with Rugal- a privileged misfit like herself, Garak’s intel had revealed- a short chaperoned time later, Garak had returned the favor. He also learned the proper high fashion styles for pinning up her hair. She learned his as well and even convinced him to let her tint his chufa a daring blue when he was feeling particularly lucky. He’s asked her to do it tonight as well. It’s a ritual that’s been going on more than half her life and Garak thinks sometimes that he’s going to miss it whenever that inevitable end comes.

But he doesn’t allow that melancholy to overtake him. He’s looking forward to an exciting evening, though he has a hunch that Julian may have played some small part in the Bajoran Officer Kira’s sudden invitation to show Ziyal around the station and tell her more about Bajor. Yes, doctor, I’m sure the busy Major Kira would absolutely take a precious free evening to play hostess to a station guest she’s never met before. Garak has learned though, rough lesson that it’s been, not to question good fortune: at least not terribly much. His head lurches forward and he hums contentedly when Ziyal’s hands reach the small of his back. He won’t look tonight, their quarters not having a suitable array of mirrored surfaces, but he can imagine the picture of brilliant color that will display when she finishes.

Ziyal is an artist, though not entirely of sculptures and paintings. She developed a fascination with the permanent Cardassian scale dying or what he’s learned the humans and Bajorans call “tattoo artistry” or some variant. Garak had thought it a bit strange at first, but he saw the beautiful works that she was able to create with pen and ink and when she told him in earnest that she wanted to learn how to put her picture permanently on the body so people could hold the image forever well he just had to go and find an enterprising artist to teach her. Tarn Belor had been hesitant at first to teach such precious cultural tradition given her obvious lineage but Garak could be nothing if not convincing. So she had learned with care, practice, her first serious pieces done both on the insides of her own forearms. Both Garak and Tarn thought she was out of her mind but she insisted that if she could manage it on her own body while under the duress of the small laser injections to permanently alter the scale pigment then she could to it to anyone. She was right.

Garak was her first big project after seeing with wonder the small symbol of Bajor, the Cardassian union, and her mother’s face. He bears one of her most beautiful and intricate pieces on his back: a stunning view of the beach outside their home viewed through a stunning copse of trees. He has several other tattoos that she’s down for him since on his arms and chest as well but that remains his favorite. Dukat had felt- as he could hardly allow his enemies to know that Ziyal was his own daughter- that the last lush rainforests of the Morfan Province were best suited to remind his beloved Tora Naprem of Bajor and give Ziyal a small taste of the other home she might someday know. Garak had supposed if he were already doomed to the stigma of having a Bajoran “wife” and “child” as his cover that the lovely scenery was the least that they could pay him with. Only the three of them and Enabran Tain himself knew her true father and well as far as Garak is concerned-

“I’m going to do your hair now, yad’,” Ziyal informs him crawling off the bed to get the brushes and the hair slick. Garak smiles at her, thinking she looks more excited than he is, but he understands. Charity or no, Major Kira is doing Ziyal an immeasurable favor in indulging all her questions and curiosity for the night. He stands, putting the undershirt on first, then overlaying the red silk already having gotten a feel for the chill temperature of the station. He imagines it must have been far warmer when it was still Terok Nor. Oh but surely, Julian should be warm enough for the both of you. Garak’s smile turns a bit wicked at that thought. Julian’s little tease had played so immediately to the exact sort of fun that Garak is looking to have. And that lovely boy looked more than game for it.

Garak sits back down seeing Ziyal rush out with both the oil and clay, a brow ridge moving at the sight of both. Just how strong a hold does she think his hair is going to need on a first date? She grins at him not quite innocently. “Like you always say, it’s better to be prepared than to find yourself in a group of your enemies without a sharp knife.” He supposes he has said that on more than one occasion and he wonders if he shouldn’t have at least tried for a more traditional upbringing. Well hardly the time to have doubt about it all now, Elim. “Do you really think I’ll need a knife too, Yaya?” he asks, shutting his eyes as her fingers start combing oil through his hair and over his scalp. He can tell even behind him that her nose is making that precious little wrinkle.

“Ah! You win. I don’t need to know everything about your date tonight.” His throat vibrates with a low  rumble of amusement as Ziyal continues to work following that exaggerated exclamation of parental sex picturing disgust. Garak isn’t quite sure what future a half Cardassian tattoo artist and a former Obsidian Order spy turned tailor are going to have on Bajor, but Garak guesses as Ziyal has been saying the adventure lies in the mystery. “Still,” she continues cheerfully and Garak knows that he’s nurtured her curiosity far too well from childhood. “We don’t choose the truth that we’d like to hear but sit as willing ears when it spills from the vessels we nurture.” Such a pretty euphemism for such a cruel profession and she recites it back like one of Tolan’s old Hebetian proverbs. Guls, Julian better watch out if this becomes serious!

“So are you gonna ask him he he wants to give Cindy a kiss?” Miles O’Brien sits lazily on the couch in Julian’s quarters half reading the latest report from Engineering on the PADD. Julian pokes his head out of the bathroom momentarily to answer him. “Absolutely not! Are you mad? It’s a first date, Miles!” “Aw, c’mon Julian, that’s what you ask all the pretty girls isn’t it?” Julian takes a step out having already switched from the light blue button down, to the white linen, to the gray “second skin” and back again. “That was one time!” he protests a bit too loudly. He’s at least settled on the pants; they’re his favorite ultra slim stretch black number that settle low on his hips. In spite of what Miles says he has hips they’re just a bit well... slim.

“First date or not, those Cardies move fast. You and that last fella almost closed the place down, didn’t ya?” Miles makes a sour face at that, having had the misfortune of witnessing a good part of that whole thing. Cindy had made an appearance for that one too. Cindy, being the infamous tattoo that Julian has on the inside of his right thigh. She’s quite lovely, really. He still isn’t quite sure of how the two of them came to form their unlikely partnership. The accounting varies widely depending on which old classmate of his he asks and even then on the occasion and the party the story is being relayed for. One account has a twenty three year old Julian getting the elaborate piece on a bet. Another has him doing it as part of a dare to impress a beautiful Betazoid classmate. Yet a third- and his personal favorite- involves a Klingon rite of passage, blood wine, and two Andorran girls fighting over him. The commonality in all the accounts is that he was completely trashed and woke up the next morning with a burning inner thigh thinking he’d scored something fierce only to come face to face with Cindy.

Julian isn’t sure why “Cindy” and no one has ever been able to fill in that part of the mystery. All he knows is that his right thigh bears a stunning rendition of a young blonde human women with blue eyes and a pretty red pout puckering up for a kiss. As ludicrous as the tattoo is, it’s quite stunning in its detail and Julian decided in the end to keep her as a valuable life lesson. He may have also in his more stupid (read: also drunk) moments tried and kiss her himself, finding in the process that he’s a great deal more flexible that he’d thought. That’s proven useful on some of his more enduring dry spells. He hopes Garak appreciates it. The “last fella” to which Miles refers was an adventurous Cardassian trader named Mekor who absolutely appreciated it and even more so when Julian called him “sir”.

“Yes... well...” Julian turns his head with a scratch of his neck not wanting to revisit that embarrassing night when Captain Sisko had shook his head like he was lecturing Jake and just told him to go sleep it off. “It wasn’t a first date in any case and he had to leave rather abruptly so well... You know how it is when you’re not going to see your partner for awhile.” Julian gives a bit of a tease back. Miles had been unbearable when Keiko was on Bajor, “enjoying the bachelor life” or not, there were some types of single excursions that they couldn’t exactly share. Julian was pretty sure if she’d been gone any longer he’d have started rubbing on the furniture.

“Yeah, and speaking of Keiko, if I wanted to watch someone running around throwing clothes all over I could go back home.” “Don’t you still have to get ready?” Julian asks in complete earnest. Miles draws himself up looking just a touch offended. “And what’s wrong with what I already got on?” Julian looks at him sitting there in his uniform. Miles had initially stopped by to ask Julian if he might be able to look after Molly while the two enjoyed a couples’ evening. Julian had apologized letting him know as he tried to sort through three pairs of shoes that Miles swore all looked the same that he’d love to but he already had plans. Miles had taken one look at him, his quarters and with a dramatic sigh shook his head. When Julian asked him about it he pressed a mock hand to Julian’s forehead and declared that Julian may be the doctor but Miles knew a sure case of “Cardie Fever” when he saw it. Alright, so he wasn’t exactly entirely wrong about that one but still.

“Nothing it’s just well... it’s your uniform,” Julian points out brilliantly. “It’s clean!” “Right yes but it’s ah...” “Jeez!” Miles says throwing his hands up. “You oughta be standing here with my wife instead of me, it’s like talking to a mirror of her tonight!” “You clean up quite nicely,” Julian offers apologetically. Miles grumbles as he swipes down on the PADD. “Yeah, s’too late for flattery. ‘m sure the both of you are in it together. You don’t look so bad yourself,” he says by way of peace offering. Julian looks down not sure if it’s quite the look that he wants to convey. Not with the proposition that he’d made. He doesn’t want to look too young either but he’s hardly trying to project an air of stiff buttoned up doctor so...

“Thank you! So... er... skin or skin tight?” he asks thinking that Jadzia might give a better opinion but then again all the station would know that “Doctor Bashir is on another lizard hunt.” So help him if he ever finds the person who coined that irritating phrase... “You can’t do both?” Miles asks giving what Keiko might call in exasperation an “uncivilized unhelpful” opinion. Maybe Julian should drop in on Keiko. Then again, if she’s in half the dire fashion straits that he is then that would hardly be fair. No, he’s just going to have to trust his instincts on this one. The blue button down- with a few buttons down- it is. “Right, no. I think this will have to work.” Julian isn’t quite certain how far this will go in one night, but he’s an eternal optimist and he needs to get a start on straightening his quarters just in case. Well perhaps an optimist with a touch of schemer thrown in seeing as how he’d promised Kira anything she wanted if she could find it in her heart to keep a lonely half Bajoran girl company and ease some of her fears about seeing home for the first time.

Kira is a saint, Julian decides, and Miles is... taking up space on a sofa that he needs to clean. Perhaps he’ll get the hint if Julian just starts and saves the thing for last. “So ya think he’s some sort of spy?” Miles asks suddenly making Julian stop. “A what? A spy? Oh come on, Miles, he’s just a man taking a trip with his daughter.” “Two Cardies going to Bajor?” he replies skeptically. “A Cardassian man and his half Bajoran daughter,” Julian corrects. He hadn’t ben able to stay and chat much longer before his shift had started, but Ziyal had let him know that her father was a rather talented tailor and he was making a terribly noble sacrifice in uprooting his entire business so that she could see and experience her other home. She said that he wouldn’t dream of just sending her off into the wild and god, that protectiveness was just all sorts of sexy. It was obvious he adored her, obvious he was a man with an eye for detail, for beauty and those hands.

“You got that look, Julian,” Miles notes and he’s not quite sure what “look” that’s supposed to be. “That kinda funny “daydreaming about your date” look”, Miles finishes like he’s just read his mind. Julian clears his throat as he picks up a few more shirts. “Well, I do,” he says with what Keiko calls his “shouganai shrug” (it can’t be helped!). Miles rolls his eyes and actually has the good grace to extricate himself from the sofa and head towards the door. “Yeah yea, I know. Better make myself scarce before you really start going on about him.” “Saving that for after the date right,” Julian answers with a cheeky grin. “Right, make sure you tell me all about it. Every last detail.” Heavy on the sarcasm. Julian laughs and Miles claps him sincerely on the shoulder. “

Have a good time, Julian,” He says making his exits to a few brief goodbyes. Julian supposes that he does perhaps have that far off day dreamy look to him but if Miles had seen those eyes, those hands, that thick body, that strong grip and the way Garak’s eyes darkened so nicely when he called him “daddy”... Okay yeah, he still wouldn’t get it because he’s Miles O’Brien and not Julian Bashir hopeless “daddy lizard queen” as Jadzia calls him between the two of them but that’s neither here nor there.  Julian’s getting goosebumps just thinking about his date and he hurries up with his cleaning. After all, he wouldn’t want Garak to think that he’s not a good boy. At least not yet!

(Link to Part 3 if you want to keep going)

#star trek ds9 #star trek deep space nine #ds9 fanfic #meet cute #Garak/Bashir #garashir #elim garak #tora ziyal #Julian Bashir #miles o'brien #au #fanfic

[bluecichlid]

Fandom Trash Ask

@what-would-ww-do asked for 3, 7, and 8 on the fandom trash ask.  (JFC, Janina, what are you trying to do to me??  The fandom SJW purists are going to come for me!)

3. ur really trashy im-going-to-hell ship

OK, I already did this one (Kira/Dukat from DS9)

7.  what is ur  guiltiest guilty fave fandom

Depends a bit on what you mean by that.  If you mean sinful trash, I was in college in the early 90s, and I read a lot of Anne Rice novels.  If you mean a fandom that is embarrasing because it is sometimes so cheezy, I really loved the old Battlestar Galactica with the 70s hair and the soaring music and the inconsistent plot lines.  Not just the show ... I still own a complete set of the novels.  Yes, they were awful.  (Goes away and hides in shame).  

8.  what is the fic you want to write/read but can’t because it is too full of Sin

OK, this is the one I really didn’t want to answer, but I did post the ask list!  Damnit.  OK ... a while back I had an idea for a story based on Agatha Christie’s Then There Were None, that I mentally called Ten Little Lannisters.  Basically Ned doesn’t die, Sansa ends up married to Lancel and trapped in KL, and is Joffrey’s mistress, with all sorts of bad things happening.  So she kills the entire Lannister family one at a time (except for Tyrion -- he helps) in the order of how culpable they have been in the abuse.  Then I looked at it and thought ... this is way too gross and dark and I came to my senses.  So there is it.  

Thanks for the ask, Janina!  (Sort of -- LOL)  

[cyrelia-j]

[Fic] Deuces IV: Heartbreaker (Garak/Bashir)

(Apologies if #1 this has weird characters and #2 it doesn’t cut. I’m about to melt down trying to get this to work and on every device I use it looks wrong in a different way so I’m at a loss)

First off, MASSIVE thanks to @eilupt​ @ladyvean​ @noxziconsortium​ @valkyriesews​ and anyone else I forgot to mention for your input on Cardassian fair food. Also, I wanted things to be a bit different but don’t be alarmed by any snags in the road because this is ultimately definitely a garashir universe :) Previous parts are here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: AU (no Dominion also kept some other characters alive like Bareil because this world is a happy place) Garak and his surrogate daughter Ziyal find themselves on Deep Space Nine on a stopover to Bajor. While Major Kira shows Ziyal around DS9 Garak and Julian have their date. Julian is optimistic. After all, he’s got this down to a science

Keiko O’Brien is an absolute gift from the Prophets, Julian likes to say making use of local idioms, and if Miles doesn’t treat her properly Julian is totally going to steal her. That’s what he likes to tease, but she really is an intelligent and infinitely creative woman who has been invaluable in the success of what Julian likes to call his infallible first date sure thing holoprogram. Jadzia had at first referred to it playfully as “Julian’s Lizard Daddy Trap”. Keiko had then told the both of them about gairaigo and how a lot of Japanese products to this day bear strange sounding names because of the fascination with borrowed words . She then showed them an old “family heirloom” that was something called a “bento box” with the odd combination of words “Crunky Ball Nude” elegantly scrawled across the top. She then said with a perfectly straight face that if Julian wanted to truly thank her for her contributions to the menu that he would call it nothing less than “Julian’s Delicious Lizard Delight Circus.”

The program now bears the innocuous file name of “JDLDC1”

The program in question is the ultimate product of love and devotion- and if he’s being frank, Julian’s attempt to streamline the “first date” into a happy efficient guarantee of success. It had taken the three of them ��� Jadzia, Julian, and Keiko – two years to complete with some degree of trial and error but it’s a masterwork. Julian had built it off of one of Recreational Station Hidalgo’s old modules of an exotic carnival and the three of them worked to modify every parameter to meet a certain taste; namely a certain Cardassian male taste, though Julian didn’t see that it wouldn’t appeal to most Cardassians as a whole with some modifications.

Quark certainly seemed to think so. Going off Julian’s impressive track record in fact, he thought if Julian would let him copy it that it would net them both a tidy profit with the steady influx of Cardassians passing through the station. Julian wouldn’t hear of Jadzia and Keiko being left out but in the end he decided that he still wanted to get use out of it before it became public.

Quark had asked sourly exactly how many more Cardassians he really needed to entertain as many as he had already. So perhaps Julian had developed a bit of a reputation- amazingly over the course of his time on station he’d gone from Deep Space Nine’s resident Ladies Man to resident Lizard Queen- but well, he still hadn’t quite found the one who he could really fall for. Well, alright, perhaps Julian had fallen for several dozen going by Miles’ count but they just weren’t quite it. There was still something missing there. And thus came in the holoprogram that made the entire process easier.

Jadzia had contributed to the majority of the attractions, the exotic animals on display, the rides, and the shows. Of course they’d been honed and refined over time with new data to account for Cardassian musical preferences, hearing, exceptional eyesight, differences in equilibrium, adrenal responses and the like and it was absolutely magnificent. He’d also managed to- with Miles’ persuasive help initially- “sweet talk” Gilora Rejal from the Science Academy into further assisting them during her periodic visits for research. She’d thought the idea was completely ridiculous at first, but as he laid out his ambitious plans and designs, she couldn’t help but throw in corrections where she saw improvements were needed.

By the end of it, both she and Jadzia had engaged in some fantastically heated debates on adjustments and turned out a marvel of engineering. Jadzia may have also slept with her which Julian was a tad envious of since Gilora was a stunning woman. She’d warmed to Julian’s company once he’d finally stopped being so circumspect and polite and he corresponded with her regularly with her now to keep abreast of the latest news and current events on Cardassia Prime. She had a completely wicked and unforgiving wit and she also helpfully provided him with the best and most heated topics of debate that he took full advantage of using on his dates. Julian still wondered on occasion if he might not have a chance, but Jadzia was certain that it would never work.

Her associate, Ulani Belor had been curious as to their “secret” conversations and meetings though Julian didn’t know if she’d have an interest he’d explained the project to her as well. Their “colleague” Dejar had little interest in any of it and thought the lot of them were allowing themselves to get distracted by nonsense. Well, that was Julian’s introduction to the Obsidian Order and its operatives and he could say he’d be perfectly happy to go his entire life without dealing with another one of them. Ulani had taken interest in the food that Keiko had been working on. Julian hardly fancied himself a culinary expert- Miles once said he was pretty sure that Julian would ingest anything for the purposes of getting laid. But between the two of them they seemed to reach a perfect accord and marriage of both Cardassian and Earth tastes.

Or rather it turned out that the Cardassian taste was particularly receptive to a lot of Japanese and other Southeast and East Asian foods not often represented in most Federation cultural exchanges. Both scientists declared after tasting the dango smothered in yamok sauce that if the Federation actually brought some real food with them, they might find more Cardassians to be receptive to their proposals. Keiko then wondered if the Vietnamese balut that some back stalls still sold had would carry well over to regova eggs. It absolutely did and Ulani was happy to share some other Kardasi festival delights such as W’sai, Kori balls, and Nurot. Well, lacking a sense of taste or not, Julian was completely sold and it turned out, so was Legate Turrel when he was on the station during negotiations with Kai Winn and Vedek Bareil. Not that Julian is bragging, but he doesn’t think that Vedek Bareil had anything on his negotiating skills.

Julian wasn’t sure how he’d felt about Captain Sisko subsequently designating him official head of the Cardassian welcoming committee, remarking with a perfectly straight face that he was pleased Julian had overcome his initial difficulties with showing foreign dignitaries around the station. Julian was sure there was some look that passed between him and Jadzia just then which made him pout just a bit before ultimately accepting incredibly graciously. He could hardly look a gift horse in the mouth.

And he was good at it, he found, his social life aside. Julian had grown quite adept at reading the necessary cues to avoid any embarrassing incidents (Kira still seemed crushed that Gul Dukat had no interest in him whatsoever though Julian was hardly crushed by that realization as he found the man utterly insufferable) and learned which subtle ones to throw out when off duty to get a feel for the atmosphere as Keiko liked to say. Julian saved those little tricks for his dates though; no need to let on too early just how good he was at this game. Most of the men he dated seemed to prefer his “vapid twink doctor” bit anyway and he only employed the most subtle use of his Cardassian routine. He was terribly good at it.

According to Quark as he enters the bar tonight, they were taking bets on which of the newest station arrivals Julian had his eye on. Quark informs him a bit sourly that he’d lost a good bit of latinum when he bet on the older doctor from Lacoria City. Rom on the other hand had picked the Tailor Garak right off the bat and is counting his winnings rather loudly at the bar. Quark snaps that they aren’t his winnings since “his woman” had to pick the candidate for him. Julian just smiles and shakes his head as he looks for Garak to make an entrance. Leeta knows his tastes so well.

Julian had arrived exactly on time, neither early nor late knowing how Cardassians value punctuality. And what an entrance he makes. Garak looks absolutely luscious in the dark red silk shirt wrapped around him magnificently, showing off those broad shoulders and delectable thick waist. And speaking of thick… Julian is sure he must be drooling, looking at those impeccably tailored pants hugging thick thighs and Julian finds himself catching a discreet glimpse to the burnished old Bajoran sculpture that he’d donated out of generosity.

Of course those in the Federation were renown for stupid gestures like that though Julian admitted to Quark that if he would be so kind as to perhaps place it say along the one wall near the first floor entrance where Julian might make use of it for “observational purposes” he might say that he owed Quark a favor during one of Odo’s subsequent “witch hunts”. Quark hadn’t needed more than a month before he called that favor in and Odo hardly seemed amused by his accidentally spilling a drink on the “Odo in a jar” that he’d assumed the guise of to replace Quark’s actual one. Julian loves the sculpture.

Especially now that the flat, reflective surface is giving him the most stunning view of Garak’s ass that he could have imagined. Julian usually prefers bottoming but for an ass like that he’s more than willing to be flexible. …In more ways than one.

“The house takes two! Place your bets now!” Quark yells out the code as every eye on the bar turns to Julian for just a moment. He smiles a bit self-effacing at that, the 2 references the two hours Quark thinks it will take him to bed the humble tailor. Julian certainly hopes so. A few bets go for 1 and some for a half- Julian mentally rolls his eyes at that bit of optimism- but he trusts Quark, really. The house is rarely wrong. Julian meets Garak with a few steps, seeing the curious look.

“They’re taking bets,” Julian explains with a disinterest shrug. “I couldn’t begin to guess on what but I have to tell you, that you look absolutely fabulous.” Julian gives a casual but hopeful brush of his upper arm. “I love this shirt,” he says, sure to keep his flirting completely human for now. He can let the fun begin once they’re inside. Garak’s smile in return is brilliant. It’s a wide pleased grin and Julian can see the hint of tongue poking the air, tasting, scenting.

He was sure to shower and apply the deodorizing oil that he and Jadzia had developed after his second date had informed him rather bluntly that he had a delightful time but didn’t think he’d ever be able to adjust to the human scent and taste. Julian never thought he particularly smelled but Gilora had said there was a very strong musk that he would get when perspiring that had quite a salty and at times bitter taste to it. Jadzia didn’t have it and neither did Keiko and he thought it might be a male thing until Keiko reminded him (which he really should have remembered being a doctor) that humans of East Asian descent tend to have fewer apocrine sweat glands and so there began the great experiment to develop an oil that could effectively eliminate that issue. After much trial and error he realized everything Federation produced left an odd lingering taste on the Cardassian tongue even if it was supposed to have no odor.

It took months but in the end it worked with the final approval from both Gilora and Ulani he had an effective oil which sat over the skin until it wore off naturally over a few days’ time but until then reacted exactly as needed to produce no odor but a faint trace of sandalwood and root from the north renowned for it’s mild aroma. They both informed him that they’d scented him more than they cared to and he absolutely owed them both big time. He figured it couldn’t be worse than any other deals he’d cut with them.

There’s a curious glance from Garak at that but he refrains from commenting on it instead complimenting Julian’s outfit. Julian can see a linger of eyes to his bare neck, bare collarbone and he almost wishes that he could bet on himself. One. Definitely one.

“You’ve no idea how excited I am to show you what I have planned for this evening,” Julian says practically vibrating. The Midway. Julian definitely is going to start there with this one. One hour if that and he’s got this. He shoots Quark a wink holding up a finger watching as the patrons erupt in another frenzy of betting as they make their way to the second floor. Julian’s got this…

Garak doesn’t know that he’s ever been more bored in his life. He smiles politely as Julian drinks the broth out of the boiled egg his head timing out just when he imagines that Julian is going to accidentally spill some down his neck because it’s “terribly messy” and there it goes, a few inviting rivulets of the clear broth running down that nicely tanned skin.

“And I take it that’s how I’m supposed to enjoy this delicacy?” Garak asks already knowing the answer because he’s already known the answer to every insipid contrivance that this evening has brought him. Guls, if Julian wasn’t so gorgeous… but even that’s starting to wear thin. Julian smiles- wait for it- inviting tilt of his head just so, to the right, another flash of his neck and Garak knows that he should have long put a hand on Julian’s shoulder to show his interest but it’s just so obvious he can’t bring himself to give in to such egregiously blatant cues even if it drags this miserable date out further.

That and actually every dish that Julian has tempted into his hands has been completely to die for.

The teriyaki, the sweet and sour sauce covering the fried pop beetles nearly brought him to another plane of existence. Julian had gone on about the work he and Chief Engineer O’Brien’s wife had put into the food in the program along with on Ulani Belor who he’d only chanced to hear of due to his former colleague’s amateurish bungling of a simple sabotage mission. Naturally he told Julian he wasn’t familiar with her. Right about now he’s almost wishing he was on a date with her as Julian begins another “conversation starter” that he has to be fishing off of a hidden list somewhere.

“Yes, you’ve got it, you do that brilliantly,” he says in a fawning compliment that would be nice if it wasn’t immediately followed up by a predictable air scenting and an enthusiastic “flirty” draw of his finger in the air and by the state did someone print Cardassian dating manual in the Federation since the end of the occupation because Garak feels he could sit here with a list and check everything off in order.

The Regova balut is also heaven. The sprinkle of the furikake that Julian suggests is masterful. Julian then asks his opinion on the proposed changes to the household registry next quarter that the council meets and Garak nearly wants to weep. Garak is sure that Julian will present the most uninformed opinion imaginable and allow Garak to “educate” him while he tries to debate a careful but ultimately poor position. Guls, if he wanted to have a date with a vapid holoprogram he’d just run the thing without Julian and just enjoy the food and the ambiance.

How long has it even been? Garak is certain he’s lost all sense of time being trapped in this miserable mobius continuum of bad date. Perhaps he’s in fact died and this is some Faustian iteration of eternal torment for a life poorly lived. The most delicious food in the galaxy in exchanged for company so poor it would drive a man to want to take his own life. Alright, so perhaps the newly opened Federation archives have only given him a larger plethora of work with which to reference when he wants to seem smart- at least that’s what Parmak had said to him the last time they had corresponded. He’d sooner die than admit it but there’s actually some Earth derived literature that he enjoys and he’d been hoping for more interesting cultural exchanges and debates like he’s enjoyed with some of the more frequent human visitors vacationing on the Morfan Providence but…

“Is something the matter?” Julian asks and Garak can’t believe that he’s been driven to actually show any of his anguish outwardly. Ironically in a rare moment of veracity he has no clue where to even begin to itemize the obscenely long list of everything single “something” which has grown fed by Julian’s obviousness into a “matter”.  My, where to even start… perhaps the scent is the most difficult to reconcile. I definitely scented you in the Replimat and it was a touch strong but very human, very alluring and it was quite nice. But here tonight it’s like tasting a pleasure doll engineered to be inoffensive which may appeal to some but it’s quite boring. You were charming in the replimat and here charm has given way to some series of contrived scripts you’ve been following exactly like a carefully choreographed routine. Which makes perfect sense of course given the interesting conversation I’d had in Quark’s but still I’d hoped for something a bit different.

He’d in fact as was his custom gone to Quark’s earlier in the day to make a discreet study of the area, check for escape routes, hazards, observe the atmosphere. He hadn’t noticed anything untoward as he ordered a drink and kept his ears and eyes open. It had allowed him to relax a bit and it wasn’t long before he started catching snippets of conversation about the “infamous” Julian Bashir which was quite a curiosity. He certainly wasn’t going to involve himself with anyone who could pose a possible danger to himself or Ziyal but then in striking up a conversation with a fellow named Morn who couldn’t shut up for the life of him he learned several interesting things.

The first being that the young doctor was infamous for the number of Cardassian men he’d bedded- primarily military men and a handful of freighter captains. The second was that his reputation was so large that the entire bar got in on serious betting whenever a “fresh wave” of Cardassians were on the station and third… Third being that he never fails to “bag his lizard” with this very program. Which Garak supposes he could see if he was feeling particularly charitable but he’s been gamely going along with this for the past hour now and he’s sure he’s put in enough time.

He went along with taking the lead in winning Julian some nonsense trinket from a target shooting booth, earning much praise from a “strength tester”  that was definitely doctored, to a boat ride with just the right ambient sounds to create pleasant complimentary reactions in one’s nervous system and on and on to Julian himself who clearly has mastered the fine art of appealing to a very specific segment of the Cardassian military population. It’s a wonder they haven’t invited him back to give him his own holiday. Which Garak supposes would be all well and good- Yes, doctor, I’m so pleased with your obvious love of civic duty that I’ll gladly put a hand on your shoulder and tell you what a good boy you are- except he isn’t some authority obsessed soldier who gets off on these bland deferential power games. He wants passion, he wants a challenge, he wants there to be a reason for him to bring discipline, to lead, to bring Julian to heel. Perhaps he is getting old because Julian clearly has done this dance so much he could go through the motions unconscious but is it really asking too much to have something more than just a pleasing body to jam his prUt into?

Still, he has to bear in mind that cause embarrassment to the station CMO might prove unwise. Yes, a lie is definitely in order here, though he needs to make sure it’s not a medical one. He supposes Ziyal will have to be it. It’s uncreative and stupid but frankly, Julian doesn’t deserve his good stuff and the sooner it gets him out of here the better.

“I’m sorry, doctor,” he says a touch dramatically. He might not be getting more than Julian’s usual routine but he likes to think that even if he’s returning in kind that his routine is much more convincing. “I’m afraid I’ve been terribly poor company but you see I’ve just been so terribly concerned about Yaya. Oh, I know she’s a grown woman and I trust Major Kira to be showing her the same consideration and hospitality that you’ve shown me-“ Guls, he hopes not “-but I just haven’t been able to give you the attention that you deserve and it’s such a pity after all the trouble that you’ve gone through. It’s only my hope that we might do this again sometime.” Perhaps after he’s long dead and Julian gets some new material.

Garak wears sincerity brightly and reaches across the table to put his hand over Julian’s. He intends the gesture in the human way but sees Julian’s curious look at the display of dominance. Maybe he’ll get lucky and a fleet of Klingon birds of prey will crash into the station. But it seems to do the trick and Doctor Bashir is ending the program mercifully. Garak could kiss him, he really could. Except that would certainly make him try for a second and Garak isn’t too keen on remembering the first. He wonders if anyone ever actually bets on the doctor to fail. Judging by the expression on Julian’s face somehow he doubts it.

And it’s with that sour taste in his mouth that Garak finally gets back to his quarters determined to hack the station computers and never again eat in the Replimat when Julian isn’t on duty. He sees Ziyal laying sprawled on the couch looking about the way that he feels right about now. He opens his mouth to ask, the two of them exchanging a look before he does.

“Kanar?” She asks sympathetically already sitting up to go get it.

“Kanar,” Garak agrees with a sigh.

Looks like he’s not the only one who had a “bad date”.

(Part 5 is here)

#star trek ds9 #star trek deep space nine #ds9 fanfic #Julian Bashir #elim garak #Garak/Bashir #garashir #au #deuces #bad date #fanfic #update #cyrelia-j