Y'all Have NO IDEA The Things I Would Do If Somebody Gave Me An Object, Esp A Book, Mentioned In One

y'all have NO IDEA the things i would do if somebody gave me an object, esp a book, mentioned in one of my special interests with detailed notes on how it was mentioned. like, a copy of common sense by thomas paine with everything angelica says about it in the schuyler sisters written on the inside? i would go feral. a copy of alice in wonderland with all of michael and spock's annotations in side? i would Lose My Mind. a copy of a tale of two cities with detailed spock and jim notes? i would simply die.

One of my favourite things about Deep Space Nine is imagining how Sisko's superiors must have been reacting to his shenanigans behind the scenes.

I mean just imagine it.

You're an admiral or something in Starfleet. You belong to an organisation that spans half the galaxy, has access to unimaginable (to many civilisations) levels of technology, and contains numerous different cultures.

You are well aware that the power and technological advancement of the Federation makes you inherently dangerous to less technologically advanced peoples. Like the moment any group is introduced to you, the development of their species is basically going to be changed forever. A single individual fucking around can, if careless, negatively impact an entire world.

Avoiding this kind of thing is therefore one of the core values of your civilisation. Your Prime Directive. There are huge lists of rules and regulations over when it is an isn't appropriate to intervene. People have literally died rather than break them.

And then there's this one world, whose people have only just overthrown an oppressive regime and are looking to join your Federation. You and your colleagues vote to help them rebuild, while steering clear of interfering with any of their politics, of course, and send some of your guys over to help administrate.

One of those guys then goes and DECLARES HIMSELF A GOD.

Like, we, the audience, know that Sisko was chosen by the Worm-Hole Aliens to be their Emissary. We know that he struggled with accepting the role at first and that he had visions and eventually came around to whole-heartedly believing in the Bajoran religion.

But Starfleet doesn't know that! Starfleet isn't inside Sisko's head!

From Starfleet's perspective the most logical explanation for all this is that they sent some guy to the back of beyond, the local people got him involved in their religion and then he either went crazy or saw an opportunity to gain power, and now he can impact the entire planet's political decisions on a fucking whim and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

I mean, this has to be every higher-up's worst nightmare, right? This is the sort of extreme scenario they'd come up with in school textbooks to explain to children why the Prime Directive is necessary.

If the Dominion War hadn't happened, Sisko's main legacy in the Federation would have been "the reason why we have all these extra regulations about interfering with non-Federation worlds, and why all Starfleet Captains operating in the vicinity of such worlds have mandatory psych evaluations every couple of months."

And they can't even do anything about it! They can't remove him and replace him with another Officer, because the local people are 100% on board with this 'Sisko's the Messiah' thing and won't work with anyone else. You can't back away from the situation entirely and give them a few years to repair the damage because it's super critical for the war you're currently fighting.

You can't even really control Sisko, because although he makes a show of being The Good Starfleet Captain, in practice there's always a risk that if you say something he disagrees with too strongly he'll just go off piste and do something else entirely and justify it with: "the Prophets told me to".

Which, again, the audience knows is a very real thing that is actually happening to Sisko, but from Starfleet's perspective could be anything from "Sisko is hearing voices" to "Sisko is legit just pulling things from his ass and trusting that we won't risk pissing off the Bajorans by contradicting him."

Just saying, from the perspective of the Federation, Sisko is probably as well-known a cautionary tale as he is a hero.

IF ANYONE DID THIS FOR ME I WOULD IMPLODE WITH LOVE

(for reference, i'm theboyinthebubble on ao3)

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

the way the camera lingers on jadzia for so long after this moment, how so deeply pleased kira is with the memory of her mother at the beginning of the episode and how deeply pleased jadzia is with kira's pleasure, got me thinking about how i really wanted them to have a parallel conversation at the end of this episode, given how open jadzia is as a person and how frustrated she gets with absolutist ethics and how open they are with each other. i just think there was one single missing conversation in this episode and jadzia would've worked in that position, provided kira with something that maybe sisko couldn't, as a creature mostly focused on what is "interesting" and "fun" and pleasurable.

so i wrote it of course and decided the intimacy i most wanted to see from them in such a scene is the sort of intimacy of two people who have been each others' companions for a very long time. which made me think about how the dax symbiont is jadzia's lifelong companion and how dax and kira and the symbiont all have a specific attitude about the body and how jadzia was the only voice speaking for kira's ownership of hers...that's love, is what i mean. said "missing scene" below:

jove's doom is void (ao3 link)

There was an observation window near one of the radiation labs, curving against the plated wall of the Station like a forgotten eye on the back of one’s head. In such an uncomfortable little corner of Deep Space 9, few people stopped and worked and noticed. But Kira noticed. 

She sat in front of the window on the floor, straining in the relative darkness to see as far as she could into the depths of the universe, because what else was she supposed to do? If she closed her eyes, all she saw was her mother’s face and all she felt was the rough line of her mother’s scar under the pads of her fingers and all she could smell was food. 

“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” said Jadzia. She had been silent for much longer than Kira expected her to be, after finding her by the window and plopping down by her side. She’d been busy tracing the lines on Kira’s left hand and wrist, astutely sensing that that was all the touch Kira could yet handle. 

“I’ve already talked,” said Kira, keeping her eyes on the darkness. 

“You told me what happened,” countered Jadzia, her fingers still strong on Kira’s skin. “Not how you feel about it.”

“No, I’m sure I mentioned that.”

Jadzia huffed, always amused, but she didn’t let Kira get away with it. “You said you told Benjamin about all this, too,” she prompted. “What did he have to say?”

“Something wise.”

“Hmmm,” said Jadzia, tapping her chin with her free hand. “Doesn’t sound like him…”

Kira looked over at her, at the tilt of her mouth and the attention of her eyes, and sighed. “He said,” she glancing down at her hand in Jadzia’s lap. “He said that she did make a hard choice—that she chose to protect us in the best way she knew how.”

Jadzia was quiet again and Kira let her gaze blur, curling her hand slightly to keep Jadzia’s fingers still. 

She couldn’t shake the feel of her mother’s hair or the sound of her breathless voice as she ran to the table piled with dinner. A desperate, pathetic thing—no more or less like the little girl she had shaken hands with, her own young self, starving in a cave and still trusting her parents to eventually save her from it. To innocently hide a scar on one’s face, to exclaim over fresh fruit, to find relief in a new dress…Kira found none was the behavior of a woman so often described as brave.

“Not really a choice, though.”

Kira’s fog briefly cracked open at Jadzia’s tone. She turned to look at Jadzia’s face, who was pressing her lips together and avoiding her eyes and smiling straight-on, the way she did when she wanted to keep presenting as amicable because she didn’t quite want to express her true thoughts. 

“What?” Kira asked. 

“Nothing,” said Jadzia, tightening her smile. She squeezed Kira’s hand gently. “Ignore me. I just want to be here for you.”

“But what did you mean?” Kira pushed.

Jadzia took a deep breath in and then said, “Benjamin was tiny bit mistaken.” She shrugged awkwardly. “I wouldn’t call it a choice.”

Kira removed her hand from Jadzia’s grasp and turned to face her, sliding back on the floor until her back hit the wall just beneath the observation window, her eyes falling over the strange refracted light on Jadzia’s face from distant stars—shining behind and around the wormhole. 

“You think she was coerced?” asked Kira, watching Jadzia’s expression carefully. 

Jadzia looked past Kira’s shoulder and said slowly, “I think…well, maybe. That’s one way to put it...” She trailed off. 

“Jadzia,” Kira snapped. She leaned forward and their knees brushed briefly. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

Jadzia’s eyes met hers and she said in a steadier voice

“Choices within the doctrine of an uncaged will must meet a threshold of circumstantial liberty. For instance, if, within the circumstances of two choices where one of those choices is death, then no real choice can be said to actually exist.”

Kira blinked. Jadzia blinked back. 

“Sorry,” Jadzia said, slumping a little. “Lela…she was a lawyer, you remember?”

This wasn’t news to Kira who was at this point always anticipating at least one moment a day where Jadzia’s personality seemed to morph or to add-together briefly into something just slightly off-center. She had such a serene presence most of the time that most people just dismissed this as being a quirk of Jadzia, fun-loving and curious and impulsive Jadzia. But Kira knew where the boundaries were. She could tell when the creatures Jadzia carried around and cared for within her body were given a small hold on the reins—normally she could, that is. In this moment, something was blurred. 

“So you’re saying,” said Kira, tipping her head, studying Jadzia’s closed-off face, “That Dukat  threatened to kill my mother and that’s why she stayed with him?”

“No, not…” Jadzia pinched the fabric of her pants, frowning. “Well, yes. No.”

Kira just stared at her and waited. 

“Nerys,” said Jadzia, leaning back on her hands, slumping further into herself even as her voice solidified. “What was the life expectancy of workers in the processing center here? Back then?”

“Um,” said Kira, confused. “Why?”

“What was it?”

“Not long, I suppose,” said Kira. “The Cardassians didn’t exactly encourage a healthy work environment. No such thing as weekends. Or healthcare.”

“Right, and what about the labor camps on planet?”

“Same situation. Probably worse. Why?”

“And what was the typical reaction from Cardassians when a Bajoran resisted?”

“Oh they loved it. They gave us medals and cake.”

Jadzia narrowed her eyes. Kira rolled her eyes. “You know it was violence, Jadzia.”

“So, given all that.” Jadzia waved a hand. “What were your mother’s choices?”

Kira looked down at her hands, which were clenched. 

“I know what you’re trying to say,” said Kira. “But I was there, too. I had the same choices. I don’t hate her, you know?” she caught Jadzia’s wide eyes, almost desperately. “I don’t hate her. I just wish…”

“She’d been more like you?” asked Jadzia softly. “Been as brave as you?”

Kira’s eyes filled for the millionth time that evening, and she dropped her face into her palms. Jadzia still didn’t touch her, for which she was almost insanely grateful. 

“Do you wish she’d had to suffer like you did? Be as strong as you’ve had to be?”

“Jadzia,” choked Kira. “I really can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Jadzia was quiet, her breaths deep and centering, while Kira wrapped her grief up with a barbed iron cord. Then she spoke again, softer and with less conviction, like she started all her meandering stories. 

“You know,” she said. “It took a while for us to recognize the symbionts as conscious creatures.” Kira glanced up at her. Her face was turned up to the window, awash in starlight. She really did lover her. “There was a super-volcano eruption a couple million years ago and our biological ancestors had to retreat underground or else be suffocated in the ash and the poisonous atmosphere. And the cold. It was warm underground. And while there wasn’t any sunlight, it was safer. They subsisted for awhile by hunting the creatures who were still able to venture above the surface—fishing in the cavern rivers—eating the roots that dipped low enough for us to scavenge. But they were growing weaker and weaker. Their skin was turning paler and paler.” 

She smiled—a real one, this time, hiding nothing. 

“And then they met the symbionts. These little grubs swimming around in the extensive underground river systems. The symbionts collected nutrients and radiation all from sources under the surface of the earth. The proto-Trill followed them and studied them. They learned from them. They learned to survive. And some of them learned to speak to them—briefly. The Trill skin had grown so thin and almost transparent that the symbionts could communicate just through touch. They would return the Trill’s thoughts back to them—they would remind them where to go for food at certain times of the year—they would remind them of how to cook it—they would remind them of their lives…”

Kira found herself relaxing from inside out, listening to Jadzia speak. Something of the horror of her day (of her history) faded into a small white noise.

“For thousands of years, the Trill used the symbionts as record-keepers, as pets, as tools. Ancient lords would wear the symbionts around their necks, refreshing them with fluids only once a day. And only the lords were allowed to touch one, to keep one, but symbionts so outnumbered Trill at that time that Lords ended up having many—keeping them locked away from each other and companion touch until the day they would be used. And this was the status quo. Until one day, a Trill lord went too far—and ate a symbiont.”

One of Jadzia’s hands slid over her stomach, over the small lump that was always there, always moving and twisting and living with her. Kira watched her long fingers trace over Dax’s outline. 

“And,” Jadzia continued, “As I’ve heard, as it’s been passed down from generation to generation, every symbiont in the world that day went quiet. And then they sent lightning—super-charges originating from their neural-structures—raining down upon the caves and on their hosts. They killed every lord who happened to be in contact with a symbiont at the time. But in the process they nearly wiped themselves out.”

Jadzia sat back up, her other hand going to her stomach, her gaze dropping from the stars to her middle. Her face went slightly shaky, as if she was remembering something not even she was old enough to remember. 

“I don’t understand,” said Kira, thickly. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Lela wrote a paper about Trill legal history in law school,” said Jadzia, smiling sadly up at her. Her eyes were wet and Kira ached but she also couldn’t bear the idea of reaching out. “All Trill law comes down to this one moment in history. Nothing has been written since that isn’t based on this.”

“On the symbionts almost going extinct?”

“On the fact that the symbionts felt they had no way out.”

Kira looked at her, breathed, and then threw herself to her feet. She tried to stomp away, then turned back, then turned around again, saw Jadzia’s watching and infuriating face, turned away again, all while Jadzia just continued to sit on the floor in silence. Kira got halfway down the hall, abruptly turned on her heel, marched back and then lent against the window, pointed her finger down at Jadzia’s upturned nose, and said, “Are you ever going to explain what you mean?”

Jadzia just looked up her. 

“I know you’re not the ‘type’ to have convictions,” said Kira, feeling herself get nasty. “But you could at least explain your weird academic nonsense before I go insane.”

“‘Liberty finds no refuge in a jurisprudence of doubt,’” said Jadzia, clearly quoting something.

“What does that mean.”

“It’s a decision that Trills made a long time ago. We decided that symbionts had personhood. That their bodies were to be cherished and respected as any Trill. And to demonstrate that, we would no longer wear symbionts as accessories to power. We would take them unto ourselves and keep them like the caves of their home did—until we died.”

Jadzia rose to her feet and stepped just a little closer to Kira. 

“We decided that--because bodies are sacred,” she said. “We decided that because choosing to share your body is sacred. And can never, ever be abused. Lela remembers one early legal scholar at the time when joinings were becoming the standard wrote: ‘At the heart of liberty is the right to define one’s own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of conscious life.’ Anything that might impugn that…” Jadzia’s eyes drifted down to her symbiont again. “Well that’s fundamentally wrong.”

Kira tilted her head back against the window and folded her arms tightly across her chest. 

“I know you would have chosen death, Nerys,” said Jadzia, and Kira could tell she was truly crying now, that if she looked at her dear face she would see the evidence of her hurt—all of if for Kira—like she deserved it. “I know you have chosen death over and over, as the only option you thought you could bear. I know that even if it breaks my heart a thousand times over to think of it.”

“I’m not your damn worm, Dax,” said Kira, her throat strained thought she had barely spoken. 

“You’re not your mother, either. You’d rather die than be abused. Than be occupied or attacked or owned.”

Kira closed her eyes hard, feeling sick. 

“Except for all the times that you didn’t,” said Jadzia. “You took on months of mid-to-late term pregnancy for a friend. You handed over you body pretty quickly for that, even with the enormous physical toll not just of pregnancy but of an alien living inside you for months. An alien that ultimately was not yours to hold.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. "You took on part of me, when I wanted to meet Lela, do you remember? You let her--me--live in your body, even if for only a moment."

Shaking her head, Kira whispered, “Stop.”

“You gave your body to another alien,” continued Jadzia. “To your gods—which would have destroyed you had Kai Winn not saved your life.”

And suddenly the thing blurring in Jadzia—in her tone, in her presentation, normally so easy to read for Kira—become clear. Jadzia was angry with her. 

She looked at her, at the lines of her smile still trying to hide, and she said, breathlessly, “I thought you understood why I did that.”

“I do understand.”

Kira shook her head again, narrowing her gaze, fixing it on the corners of Jadzia’s eyes, which were pinched in a way they typically weren’t. 

“You’re…disappointed in me.”

Jadzia held out for one more second before ugly honesty reared. She took a step back and crossed her own arms. 

“You just handed off your body and life like it was nothing,” said Jadzia, simply. “You didn’t even say goodbye. And then Odo said you would’ve wanted it. Odo said that to me, as if I'm not intimately familiar with all the things that you think you want because of what you believe.”

“Yes, well, I would’ve wanted it,” said Kira, feeling off-kilter. “I did. I'm not pretending."

"That doesn't mean you felt like you had a choice."

"As if you wouldn't have done the same," responded Kira, bitterly. "As if I haven't watched you walk willingly to your own death to save everyone else from it.”

Jadzia ignored this. “The wormhole alien called you a vessel," she said, her whole body twisting as she said the word, a curse.

“You call yourself a vessel all the time! You and your symbiont! Like the woman I love is just a home for a worm--like the caves you were just talking about."

“So what precisely do you think the right answer is?” shouted Jadzia, eyes flaming up. "What are you trying to say?"

Jadzia was so rarely angry and even more rarely loud in her anger. She kept her deepest convictions close to her chest and she kept her honest righteousness shielded behind a distant intelligence and friendly demeanor. But for all that she performed the curious and impulsive scientist, just there to stare at comets and have a fun time, Jadzia understood commitment in a way Kira had seen in very few people before. Beneath her jokes was a sort of iron jaw that had her stepping to Klingons or captaining ships into battle. For some reason, she appeared to be clenching that jaw now. 

“I’m not looking for a right answer,” said Kira. 

“Yes, you are,” said Jadzia, unhesitating, somewhat merciless. “You told Winn there was a right answer when all she did was save yours and Jake’s lives.”

“I stand by that! We don’t know what will happen with the evil one out there now! We don’t know and it wasn’t her choice.”

“There is no choice when the other option is death!”

“So you think I’ll be happier believing my mother was just doing what she had to to save her life?” Kira’s hands were in her hair, tugging desperately. “That it’ll make me feel better to think she didn’t actually care for Dukat at all? That she was just violated over and over and—” Kira cut off on half a sob, which she swallowed.

There was quiet.

“No, Nerys,” said Jadzia, the fire gone from her voice. She stepped closer again. “I don’t think anything will make you feel better. I’ve expressed this all wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She held out a hand which Kira grabbed onto so quickly she nearly tripped in the effort. Jadzia pulled her slowly and gently closer until Kira could tuck herself under her long, spotted neck. Arms wrapped lightly around Kira’s shoulders and back, light until Kira squeezed Jadzia’s waist hard and Jadzia returned the pressure. 

“The only thing I meant to say, before this all got away from me,” said Jadzia into Kira’s hair. “Was that I think your mother was brave. I think it's okay to think she's brave.”

Kira sobbed once, then twice, into Jadzia’s uniform collar. Then she held her breath until the sobs dissolved in her chest. She tightened her grip on her. Between them, she could feel the Dax symbiont moving on her stomach. 

“I think you’re brave, Jadzia,” she said, stuffy nosed and devastated and ridiculous and sad. 

“Most people call it reckless,” laughed Jadzia in a whisper.

“You’re as sturdy as a rock,” said Kira. She smiled, just slightly, as she felt Jadzia press a kiss to her forehead, just under her hairline. 

“Such flattery,” said Jadzia, obviously grinning, obviously trying to hide how actually flattered she was. 

“Just don’t move,” said Kira, pressing her face closer against Jadzia’s shoulder.

Beneath her feet, she could feel the faint tremors of the Station twisting around her space, the many people moving around in its halls and rooms, and she thought of how fragile the whole of it all was, the Station and its parts, floating in such a cold place as the vacuum, yet also how such a body had held so much already, including her mother, including herself and Jadzia, standing together, in each others’ arms. 

“I’m here,” said Jadzia. “Not planning on going anywhere.”

THE PART ABT UNA BEING SCARED ABOUT BEING LEFT AT A GARBAGE DUMP HURT MY HEART

thank you so much for the insight!! i love this story <3

for the director's cut thing, i would LOVE to hear you talk about the light before dawn! (sorry if you've already done it lol) it's one of my absolute all time favourite pikeuna fics <3

Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, @belannaswlonkderfulworm!! ❤️ That’s so kind of you and deeply meaningful for me. 🥹

To explain: The Light Before Dawn lives in my heart. I started writing that multi-chap during Strange New Worlds’ first season and I think about it often with so much affection. I know fandom wisdom is people don’t like modern AUs, but I wanted to write it anyway. Something about that story just needed to be told.

I began by trying to figure out Una’s secret. I would have liked to have made her in the United States illegally, but then marriage could fix her problem and I didn’t want that pressure on her and Chris’ relationship. I also considered making Una trans, but I don’t feel qualified to write that experience. There was the option of making her a religious or ethnic minority, but then she would hopefully have a community and not be so alone. The idea of genetic engineering correlating to medical device implantation and ableism finally hit me and really resonated.

For Chris, my first idea was that he could be an equine therapist. But that didn’t work out geographically and, once I figured out Una’s secret, I also decided I didn’t want Chris in any kind of medical profession. (That’s why Joseph and Christine are barely in the story.) Making Chris a modern-day peacemaker seemed right.

Once I had the facts straight, the story had one rule — nothing bad could happen during the course of the narrative. This would be a story about emotional recovery from trauma. Even misunderstandings (like the one Una and La’an had) would be in the service of recovery. I feel like that came through, in part because one of the story bookmarks has the note “comfort in words.” I’ll tell you right now that there are times when I’ve had a shitty day, I look at or think about that bookmark and it helps me feel better that my words were able to comfort someone.

All that being said, there was so much I wanted to fit into that story and couldn’t:

I had this idea in my head that when Chris and Vina got divorced, Chris wore brown loafers with tassels to Family Court because he knew Vina hated those shoes … and he felt guilty at doing something so petty, but also free from trying to please her. As Chris made his way down the front steps of the court after the divorce was finalized, he nearly danced on the concrete with the shoes his wife — ex-wife — hated.

Speaking of Vina … there are songs on my fic playlist for Vina, a character who doesn’t even appear except for Chris mentioning her. But I have so many thoughts about Vina’s frustration with Chris, her pain at him pulling away from a life she thought was good. Vina, a financial planner, helps money make more money. She shops at chic stores and pays too much for haircuts. She moved to SoHo after the divorce and doesn’t really enjoy sex with her dates but does it to reassure herself that she’s “normal” and “fun” and “cool” because all of that is so desperately important to her. I hope she snaps out of her need to impress others, I really do, because Vina’s life could be better if she just lived it for herself.

I considered including that in the mornings when Chris’ light didn’t go on that he was at Judge Batel’s place feeling like absolute garbage. But then who discriminated against Una and cost Una her dream? It got too messy so I just left Batel out and I’m glad I did.

I was going to have the kitchen renovation company belong to Hemmer but when the show killed him, I nixed that.

At the last minute, I edited out a part where Una told Chris that when she was little and her parents would drive past the garbage dump, she would get scared they would drop her off there and leave her. But that was just too sad, even in the past.

In the universe of the story, Rukiya 100% lives to be an adult. There is no cygnokemia in New York City. After they read and run around at the park, Joseph and Rukiya go home to Debra and the family plays board games until it’s time for dinner.

In terms of good stuff, I’m really pleased with some of the details in that story — Una’s nail polish bottles, Chris’ Eagle Scout award (the highest award in Boy Scouts), those two discussing leaky scaffolding (a relatable New York City experience), the reveal of what happened to Gabriel Lorca. Also, I know I’m biased, but when Una set the stars at the planetarium to Mojave, California, so she could see what the sky looked like for Chris when he was a child at night, I think that’s so goddamn romantic of her.

I’m less pleased with my decision to have Una’s quick conversation in the mail room be with a nameless neighbor. My original thought was the neighbor could be any one of the Discovery women — Kat Cornwell, Michael Burnham, Phillipa Georgiou, etc. Meh. Then I wrote and deleted a whole section that made clear the neighbor was Christine Chapel. Maybe I should have kept that and removed the fleeting Chapel reference later. I’m not sure.

I stand by the Spirk joke at the end, though.

I also stand by Una not being a model patient. She’s mostly good about things, but she doesn’t always carry her card with her … just like a real person. And I am gleeful that Eagle Scout Mr. Moral Compass Christopher Pike uses the work printer for personal documents because, come on, we all do it.

Oof, I could keep talking about this story but I should stop. Thank you for this absolutely lovely opportunity, @belannaswlonkderfulworm, I’ve enjoyed every second of babbling about my beloved The Light Before Dawn. ❤️

Want more information about a fic I wrote? Send me an ask.

do you know we love you, laika? from a million miles away? though we did not treat you right i really wished you’d stayed

i hope you know they loved you before they sent you with no cause and now you’re free to wander with stars between your paws

i hope your body’s laced with stardust your mind, your fur, your heart i hope you know we loved you to the end, from the start

the universe is yours to roam the galaxy your turf i hope you play with the comets that i see from here on earth

does sirius keep you company? a dog-star of your own and does ursa guard you sleeping in space where you were thrown

it’s not fair how we treated you you didn’t ask to fly and i just hope you aren’t lonely way up there in the sky

and i hope you burnt out quickly that you weren’t in any fear but i know that it isn't true and i wish you were still here

does it help to know we love you they kept hope within a lie some thought we could bring you back but we sent you there to die

i know that you were scared then i know you were alone but i hope you saw the stars and thought they looked like home

and i know you didn’t make it you had no epilogue but i know i miss you laika no knowledge is worth a dog