"Garak, stop it immediately!" "Stop what, my dear Julian?" "Stepping on my feet all the time!" ... A small reference to the chapter "Sense of rhythm" of Just friends by me.

To tell the truth, this bar was that much federal that it produced a toothache. Humans were coming here after shifts to take a rest and relax. A bit of springwine and a live music — the best choice of those who still considers Shakespeare one of the greatest poets in Earth history. Garak sneered. He didn't know himself why did he come here.

Some illusions we shape carefully for ourselves ourselves. Neglecting what we shouldn't. ... Music: 'Sorrow' by IAMX.

"Ensign Cookie reporting for duty!" "Wait... what?" Elim blinked, looking at the gingerbread colonist from the snow globe that Q gave him as a winter holiday gift that seemed to be quite serious.

To my wonderful fleet and fleetmates. Data was somewhere near.

Everyone needs a friendly shoulder.

"Enoli, how many times it has been already that I'm telling you not to enter anywhere without permission? Especially my quarters."

It is displeasing when the job interferes with a date. ... To my Master. Happy birthday, my dear one.

Q is bothered by the rain, tight schedule and the phone that is never shut off.

You don't believe in promises.

N ways of how it could start.

Rainbow bridge is falling down, my fair-haired king. I'm falling down as well with its sparkling stars.

"It may seem quite inconceivable to you, my dear doctor, since you know me as a man, alien to any strong passion besides fashion and a good literature," he made an almost unhearable pause, "but actually I had a crush once."

"When I hear the music of the stars, so beautiful, so sad, I think that it is like a mourning."

"Politeness, my dear doctor, is a virtue of a clever man," said Garak once at their usual lunch, after having a quick word with a bolian ensign passing by. "It may get you many things you couldn't get the other way."

The Time Lords were first.

"The loyalty to the Empire is always supreme, doctor," Garak smiled forbearingly. "Cardassians indeed are devoted to their families and value these ties as no other race in this quadrant. However, service to the state is what every cardassian must aspire to."

Short 100-words-stories about the Doctor's exile on Earth. ... To my Master. Happy birthday, my love.

She is sitting on a tree branch and dangling her feet, as back then, many years ago, when she was sitting for days on end and waiting.

Because I have chosen you.

There's always somewhere to go.

Everyone has right to be weak sometimes.

Garak's smile was always somewhat special. Such a way to convey anything while telling nothing. He smiled at the comers to his modest shop, he smiled at the acquaintances strolling along the promenade, he smiled at Odo and the security officers, he smiled at major Kira and commander Sisko. And yet — he smiled at Julian.

Festive flurry was reigning in London. All these lights, all these garlands, balls, various moving things that should bring joyful atmosphere. Candies, cakes, a lot of jellies that the Doctor likes so much. Where could he be, by the way?

All these feelings, appreciated by the others, in fact are nothing more than chemical reactions that take place in the brain. And love is just a chemical reaction too. Ending. There's no everlasting love, glorified by art and young creatures's of the low IQ blogs.

Master regenerates into Mistress. Art, drawn for this story /art/A-little-bit-more-than-just-the-Universe-495730939

"A cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bears thinking about."

We do always lose only one person.

"You like it, right, don't you?" my voice sounds like I'm spitting out words through clenched teeth. But who cares anymore. I turn around and look in the light, almost limpid eyes of my old friend that I used to consider an enemy for so long ago. "You like to torture me."

If only you could know how many times my hearts were breaking to pieces because of you uncomprehending me, because of you repulsing me — again and again, without giving any explanation except that we are different, that we are doomed to be on the opposite sides of a chess-board, that you will be always the judge while I will be the accused, without getting the main thing.

Sometimes you're just trying to feign some reasons that won't let you open your eyes. Sometimes you just can't confess even to yourself that you don't want to open them.