Tribbles have picked the wrong man to mess with
[[*TNG theme song plays*
*Patrick Stewart runs outside and shouts* YOU MOTHERFCKERS ARE GONNA KILL ALL MY LILIES *shoots guns twice* PEST CONTROL!
*TNG theme song*]]
UUUUUUHH if what just happened in disco really happened then this show is blocked and deleted
My good pal Taako
(plz do not yell at me i have v bad memory on clothes/weapons and shit also i am only halfway through TAZ so i’m sorry if there’s anything wrong/missing)
Anyway, I was drawing this when Griffin tweeted that the finale is happening soon and i was like … . wha- what? ??? ?
how heartbreaking is it that inside Prime Spock’s box are carved the words “this is my logic” and literally everything in it is of emotional value
adenil-umano asked:
quotes challenge: “c-can I hold your hand?..” and Bashir/Garak (can you make it sad...? It's okay if you don't want to!) Thanks <3
writertobridge-deactivated20230 answered:
Send Me A Couple/Quote And I’ll Write A Story
Oh, I will totally make it sad. I will make it the saddest thing to ever sad. And then we’ll all be sad. And then we’ll try to get un-sad and then we will think of the sad thing and become sad again.
I mean what.
“C-can I hold your hand?”
Garak looked down at that ashen face, at the bluing lips, at those dimming brown eyes that glistened only out of fear and momentary need. He didn’t want to be here, but he could never get himself to leave. He reached, he always did, towards that warm yet weakening hand. He was thanked with a limp smile and a single tear which escaped from one of those flickering eyes.
This is it. The moment he realized.
“I’m sorry we won’t be able to meet for lunch anymore,” the weakened man whispered. Garak offered a smile. A frail one. He knew it would vanish, but it couldn’t. Not yet. And it wouldn’t. Not for another moment. Not until…
“I shall treasure the ones we had, my dear Doctor.”
The man’s smile grew. It lasted a second. If there were more words that were meant to follow, they never did. There was a shaky breath, just one, before one last exhale extinguished what little light the man had left. He was gone. He always was. And Garak’s smile went with him.
How many times had he relived this? Twenty? Forty? The number hardly mattered. The pain always felt the same. The ache in his heart rang the same. He carried it with him throughout the day like a weight which only grew heavier with each pass of the promenade, each familiar face, each Starfleet uniform. It never got easier. It never would. Despite that, each time he lived through this experience, he ended it the same – with a kiss on Doctor Julian Bashir’s forehead.
It was the closest he ever got.
He stood then and looked down at the bloody figure sprawled across the floor. Red painted the whites and blacks that dawned the Doctor’s body – a suit out of his time. Garak spent hours on it, labored over it, crafted it to impress the dear man. He’d succeeded. He would never make a suit like that again.
“Computer, end program.”
Julian’s body disappeared. The blood and suit went with it. The pain remained. It always did. Just once, he hoped it wouldn’t.
He left the holosuite, took out the datarod, crossed Quark’s, and handed it back to the Ferengi owner. Quark didn’t ask. He never did. He simply took the rod and stowed it away with the rest.
No one spoke to Garak as he stepped out of the bar and back onto the promenade. It was full. He was empty. They were living. He was dead. He died in that holosuite, wearing a suit that wasn’t his, with his cold hand clinging onto the only family he had. A family he never truly appreciated until it was gone.
an old quality meme
Don’t think about Spock going about his day handling ambassador business on Romulus, only to suddenly and completely break down with no warning signs whatsoever.
Don’t think about Spock feeling the t'hy'la bond being thoroughly ripped apart and shattered upon a moment’s glance, as Kirk exhales his final breath on the other side of the galaxy.
Don’t think about the visceral, physical pain Spock endured upon realizing that the unthinkable had happened—too far away from him, and too soon in his lifetime.
Don’t think about Spock remembering what it was like the last time—separated by a wall of glass and unable to touch each other—and knowing that this time around, they hadn’t even stood a chance at getting once last time to express their affections.
Don’t think about Spock running through every possible loophole scenario in his mind a thousand times over, just to find some way to give Kirk a second chance at life as Kirk had given one him.
Don’t think about Spock relaying back and forth between ridiculous, illogical, impossible thoughts of bringing Kirk back, and eventually coming to the conclusion that he clearly must no longer believe in no-win scenarios to have fathomed those thoughts in the first place.
Don’t think about Spock finally understanding just how deeply “the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many” now runs in his soul, because for every massive death consisting of hundreds of Vulcans that he ever felt the pain of, none of them could even compare to losing James Tiberius Kirk.
I’m thinking about the “Chose mortality so you can grow old with the one you love” trope, in relation to Odo and Quark.
the universal constant: spock never told his mother he loved her.
the timeline-specific discrepancy: for AOS spock, it’s too late.
