Icon from a picrew by grgikau. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
old marrieds garak and julian be like “my dear doctor bashir :) is the cardassian heat getting to you today? your poor delicate terran body. let me get you a glass of rokassa juice :)” and julian’s like “you must be going senile :) you know i fucking hate that shit :)” and garak’s like “YOU must be going senile :) of course i remember you don’t like it but don’t YOU remember that it is great for dehydration” and julian’s like “whatever. it disgusts me. YOU disgust me” and garak just gets him a glass of space gatorade and turns on the fan and says with all the love in his heart “and you disgust me my dear” and they’re just like. so happy and in love lol
“Well, Riaski, I’m glad someone is enjoying this wretched heat.”
Riaski, the newest addition to the Garak Bashir household, was purring contentedly atop the maroon settee, laying on her side next to her human, soaking up the sun.
Julian had lived on Cardassia Prime for many years, and had done so happily. But every year, in the height of summer, he sweats like a pig, drinks gallons of water each day, and rethinks all of the major decisions of his life.
“You know you mock me, darling girl? You lie there, in all your glory, boasting your tolerance, no, adoration, for this awful, horrible weather, and it pains me. It truly does.”
“Julian,” Garak called from the garden. “Are you berating the cat again?”
He made his way up the deck and through the sliding glass door.
“Well?” He teased, looking at Julian expectantly.
“No!” Julian scoffed. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”
“I think that you are a man who is flirting with heat exhaustion, and you’re taking it out on our dear Madame Garak Bashir. Please, Julian, drink some rokassa juice, go lie down with the fan on, leave her be.”
His words were kind, but his tone and facial expressions were that of a cat who had caught a considerable canary. Garak lived for summer. Because of the time he spent on Deep Space Nine, he never took the heat for granted. Plus, he got to care for his husband, while teasing him mercilessly - two of his favorite activities.
“Oh, my dear Mister Garak, it breaks my heart to see that you’re going senile.”
“Whatever do you mean, my dear Doctor?”
“The fact that you would even think to mention rokassa juice in my presence leads me to believe that you are losing your precious marbles.”
“Ha!” Garak laughed. “A bold assertion. It only proves that it is not my, but your, mental capacity that is withering. Were you not delirious due to dehydration, you would recall that rokassa juice is rich with electrolytes, and a tried and true ally to those in dire need of refreshment.”
Julian glared at him.
“Well you - I - hm. You know what, while I am not actually dehydrated, I am tired. Too tired to argue, in fact. Just know, rokassa juice disgusts me. You disgust me.”
Garak smiled, and walked over to the replicator. He retrieved a glass of coconut water, set it on the table beside the settee, and pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek.
“And you disgust me,” he said, with all of the love in his heart.
Julian leaned his head against the back of the settee, looking up at his husband fondly.
oh noooo you discovered a song from my secret cardassian kpop playlist 😭
i actually listening to this while sketching my ageswap au thingy and i did write a short synopsis for the au for our server, but i’ll share it here too!
garak (who goes by plain simple elim) is a 27 yr old obisian order operative and sent to ds9 to suck (pun intended) as much information out of starfleet officers as possible. he immediately gets sidetracked by the handsome older dr bashir (“no you cannot call me julian. its dr bashir.”) whos freshly divorced, a veteran of the border wars and wanted a more “peaceful” job after serving on a starship. a bajoran station in the middle of nowhere seemed like just the thing.
dr bashir, while a high ranking officer (commander) isnt rly of much interest to elims assignment, but elims been sent away bc. well. hes good at his work but… often times too unconventional to keep him that close to the order. and if elim sees a handsome man he will get information from him, no matter if its relevant to his mission or just abt his favourite sex position…
but that darn dr. bashir just wont accept his advances! sure he lets him argue abt literature (elim even “lets” him win all the time) and take him for lunch once a week but for some reason, no matter how aggressive and direct and desperate elim becomes, bashir always turns him down.
and then… when it finally works. hubris comes crashing down on elim when he learns a secret abt dr bashir he would rather not know….
tain is gonna skin him and hang his hide up in his office when he learns that elim accidentally fell for seduced a section 31 operative…
Do they not have skulls!? Why is it mushy there!?!? @bunjywunjy
well of course beluga has a skull!! that’s just not where it is.
see, you wouldn’t necessarily pick up on this, but beluga skulls (and most cetacean skulls in general) are pretty much
flat…
so what’s going on up there? well, most of the beluga’s head is taken up by soft tissue and a large organ called the melon, which is basically a big ol waterballoon of semiliquid fat!
(boob. it’s a head boob.)
this organ is found in every toothed whale and dolphin species on the planet and it’s INCREDIBLY important, because the melon is what lets them echolocate!
the actual sound-producing organ is inside their nasal passage of all places, which sits up behind there, but the melon is what’s actually used to fine-tune the soundwaves into the laser-accurate pinpoints that dolphins and toothed whales are so famous for.
tldr: without their head boob, belugas and their relatives would be literally flying blind!
does slapping the melon like that hurt it ? like does it affect how it works or anything
@weirdgirlwambsgans@vampire-juicebox you guys are in luck bc it does not! Belugas will squish their melons voluntarily against things like rocks and glass. Think of it like when you squish your butt (but at the same time not, bc they have no nerve endings beyond the skin) they even voluntarily let humans play with it!
This is a strong creature, if that hurt or bothered it, you would know
Does anybody else ever think about how Crowley in this scene is in public, in a smallish space, with a non-zero number of people also hanging out, and he’s basically just screaming into empty space and not one single person seems to even notice?
This is his regular bar. They are used to him. If he’s not talking to himself about how he didn’t actually mean to Fall, he just lost his balance, then he’s going up to random patrons and asking them, angrily, how they would define the word ‘fraternizing’. The first time Crowley brings Aziraphale here, after the not-end of the world, the bartender gives Aziraphale a long, long look, and then says, “So you’re real, are you? Well, I lost that bet.”
Crowley is That Guy at this bar. They love him. If Beelzebub had come for him in this bar instead of St James’s Park, the bartender and all six other patrons would have smashed whiskey bottles over Beez’s super dramatic insect cossack hat until she gave up and ran away.
#good omens #crowley has probably been a regular at whatever inn or pub or bar has been at this location since the 16th century tbh #hasn’t bothered to notice when it changes names or ownership #although he has subtly (perhaps unconsciously) ensured that it always stays an alcohol-serving establishment #when you sell the property you have a quiet word with the new proprietor about him #‘every 10 years or so he’ll change his hairstyle and pretend he’s his own nephew. he thinks you don’t recognize him. just go with it.’ #‘just… think of him as a sort of good-luck charm and don’t ask any personal questions.’ (via elsajeni)
What if it’s been in the same family over the centuries? Same name, same family, same pub. He could legitimately believe that the bartender is the same guy from a couple decades back, and the family history basically states, “Mr. Crowley is part of the aesthetic of the bar and should be treated as such. If the coins he gives happen to be much older forms of currency, pretend that you do not notice.”
Yes! Absolutely love thiss. With the times changing everything around, he has grown so accustomed to this place he doesn’t want it to change. Hell, he’s been visiting this place for centuries, who knows how old this place is and maybe, this was the place from 18th century where he got drunk and changed his name. Since then they got used to him, blabbering abt the fall and zira. Nobody really knows who he is, but they accept him nonetheless.
garashir secret dating fic where julian tells his friends that the mysterious new boyfriend’s name is elim and insists on talking about him constantly, bragging about how smart and sexy his boyfriend is to everyone including garak
