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comic-sans-chan · 21 days

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Fic I'll never write where Dukat decides the biennial Cardassian Festival of Whatever the Fuck (it is never actually specified) should be hosted on Deep Space Nine as a way of bridging the gap between the Cardassian and Bajoran peoples. Sisko and Kira are both Ehhhh about it, but Dukat is obnoxiously persistent until finally the Bajoran government and Federation higher ups are like “K”, on the condition that no Cardassian military (or Order) personnel be allowed. All security for the event will be handled by Odo and Starfleet. Dukat is suspiciously cool with this, which puts everyone on alert, but soon Cardassian vendors and decorators start showing up and they turn out to be pretty chill people, so they let it happen.

While the preparations for the festival are underway, another operation has started. A motherfucker from Garak's past is doing typical motherfucker things on the station. One of these things is scouting Garak's quarters, learning the layout, tracking Garak's routine. It becomes clear very quickly that the rapidly increasing number of Cardassians on DS9 is putting Garak on edge, though, because he seems to be fiddling more with his security protocols, so the motherfucker realizes they need to make their move and they need to make it fast.

They succeed. Sort of. With the circumstances as they are, they had to get a little... creative, but it should do the trick.

By early next morning, every PADD, screen, and computer system on the station is streaming seventy-two different poems on a constant loop. Love poems. Ardent, anguished, often utterly indecent love poems, all with the central theme of being about one Doctor Julian Bashir.

Quark is one of the first to notice the problem, being the type of asshole who opens early despite this only increasing his bottom line by a fraction of a fraction. At first, he's furious that his systems have been tampered with, but after reading a few lines of what his normal menu and advertisements have been replaced with, he's laughing, and by the end of the third poem, he's on the floor.

"Odo!" he shouts, banging on the bastard's door twenty minutes later. "Odo, open up! We've got a problem!"

Odo slinks under the door and slips up between it and Quark's pounding fist with a glare. "Quark! I'm not on duty for another hour. What could possibly be so urgent?"

Quark's sharp little rat teeth are splitting his face clean in half as he holds up the PADD. "Take a look."

Odo scrolls through a couple poems, then squints and scrolls through several more. "Erotic love poetry? I didn't peg you for the type."

"To like erotica? Hoo, I thought you paid better attention than that, Constable."

Odo returns the PADD with a dry expression. "To read."

"Oh, you're hilarious." He taps Odo's chest with the PADD. "The whole station is filled with this stuff. My bar, the Replimat, the Celestial Cafe, the promenade. Someone's either desperate to make a statement, or we've been sabatoged."

Dramatic sci-fi music swells and we get a close-up of Odo’s eerily hairless face and nasal cavity.

The next few hours are dedicated to trying and failing to seize back the servers and briefing the bridge staff on the situation.

"Are we sure these are all about Doctor Bashir?" Sisko's voice booms across Ops. He's on his second cup of coffee and a pile of useless PADDs lay beside him.

Julian has remained stoic throughout the discussion and he remains so now, avoiding eye contact with anyone who's smiling a little too wide. Like Jadzia. "Oh, definitely," she says. "He's mentioned by name in three of them, and several others make a point of highlighting the subject's 'golden sand dune skin', 'aristocratic' features, and 'voice that never stops singing.' Sounds like Julian to me."

A few snickers break out, but Sisko is taking the matter seriously. Thank fuck, Julian thinks. It actually looks like it's giving him a headache, which would make two of them if Julian was capable of having headaches. The captain's rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "And the source..."

"There's a clear data trail back to Garak's quarters. Whoever did this, they wanted us to know where it came from," Kira reports. A muscle jumps in Julian's cheek.

"I tracked Garak down for his statement on the issue," Odo says, gruff, "and he told me he had nothing to do with the virus. In fact, he denied ever having laid eyes on the poems in his life. He's claiming he's been framed." He rolls his eyes.

"Okay," Jadzia says, "we all agree he's lying, right?"

"But which part..."

"Oh, they're Garak's. I've read enough Lloja of Prim to be familiar with traditional Kardasi meter and syntax, and that isn't even going into all the parallels drawn between our doctor and Prime. Sand, heat, rainforests. Bit of Romulan imagery in there, too, if I'm not mistaken. A lot of flowers and vines. Wasn't Garak a gardener?"

"I see no reason why anyone would want to embarass themselves like this," O'Brien cuts in before Jadzia can make it worse. "Even if he is trying to distract us or something, this seems counterproductive in the long term. Everyone’s watching him now, not just us. The rumor mill is running rampant. Not exactly a spy’s MO."

"He did blow up his shop once."

"Because someone was trying to kill him," Julian pipes up for the first time, looking concerned. "Do you think this might be another cry for help?"

"Oh, it's a cry for something," Jadzia quips, and Julian shuts the fuck up.

"Dax," Sisko snaps, like the good benevolent Wormhole Alien Jesus he is, and Dax shuts the fuck up, too. Sisko gives them all the stink eye. "Constable, you're nearly as familiar with Garak as the doctor is," he says, and holds a hand up before any jokes can be made. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he's behind this, sir. None of the pieces add up, and he seemed genuinely agitated when I spoke to him, in his way. At present, I believe he is as much a victim here as the rest of us."

Sisko sighs. "All right. Do we have any idea who is behind this?"

The room is silent for a time, before Odo reluctantly answers for everyone, "Not yet, sir."

"Find out," Sisko demands, "and Chief, get these damn poems off of my reports. Dismissed."

Julian is out of the room before anyone else has stood up.

The rest of the day is spent ducking in and out of his office, only treating those who ask for him by name and keeping all conversations strictly professional. Any mentions of poetry, the festival, Cardassians, or Garak are firmly sidelined, and on a couple occasions, rewarded with a none-too-gentle hypo. He skips lunch altogether and extends his shift by two hours to avoid the dinner rush.

By the time he's leaving the Infirmary, it's late. Unfortunately for him, not late enough that the halls aren't still speckled with observers to his personal soap opera. With the Festival of Frank’s Hot Dogs less than a week away, DS9 is becoming increasingly crowded with tourists, mostly Cardassian, but a surprising amount Bajoran, too–apparently this festival was a rare bright point during the Occupation, when their oppressors were not only lenient with them for once, but generous with food and drink and freedoms. It doesn't hurt that the only Cardassians on board are civilian rather than military, so the atmosphere is rather more colorful, courteous and conversational rather than cold, dark and aggressive. It would make Julian smile if he wasn't so busy being gawked at.

"I don't see it," one Cardassian man grumbles and Julian's accursed augmented ears pick up. "He's even smoother than a Bajoran."

"Oh, yeah," his companion replies, "just think of how easily he'd slide around."

"Tanett!"

"Oh, hush, Grandpa. You're just xenophobic. He's cute."

"Well, you be careful who hears you say that. That Garak fellow is in the Order, you know. Ears everywhere. You don't want to know what things a man like that is capable of."

"Wasn't he exiled? Hardly intimidating now. Apparently all he's capable of anymore is whimpering over an alien like a pakrela."

Julian covers his ears and walks faster.

But that just brings him within range of a cluster of Bajorans. "Oh, there's the doctor now," one is saying, up on the balcony.

"The one the Cardassian tailor wrote about?"

"That poor fool. He thought they were friends, but here this whole time it was perverse. I can only imagine how much that hurts."

"Happened to my friend once. He thought a glinn was being kind because he was having a crisis of conscience and wanted to help him escape. No, he just wanted to–"

He could go to his quarters, but a flash of memory - Garak's bright eyes at the end of his bed, his figure encased in shadow - sends him in the opposite direction. Before long, he finds himself on an oft-unused Observation deck, since it offers no view of the wormhole or either Bajor or Cardassia's suns. It's blessedly empty, as usual, and Julian settles on a bench and stares into the dark nothingness of space for a long time.

At some point, he finds that his hand has retrieved the PADD from his medical bag, and the screen is lit up automatically with the first poem.

He reads well into the night.

—

The next morning finds Garak with a tall glass of rokassa juice and two eggs, staring intensely into a mysteriously operational PADD at the far end of Quark's bar. Quark pops out of his backroom like a jack-in-the-box.

"Ha! Well, if it isn't the man of the hour himself, gracing my fine establishment so soon after nearly destroying it. Do you know I've had to have menus printed, like we're in the dark ages? Do you have any idea how extensive my menu is? I ought to sue you for damages." He catches a glimpse of the PADD's screen and its decidedly unpoetic contents. "Hey, you fixed it? How?"

"It was just a simple virus. Viruses can be purged," Garak says without looking up. He barely seems aware of Quark's existence.

When no other words are forthcoming, Quark huffs. "Well, can you purge it from the rest of the station, then?"

"I gave the program to the Chief last night."

"And he didn't immediately come here to fix my bar? I'll have to file a complaint.”

Garak offers no reply. Just continues to stare into his PADD.

There are other customers he could be seeing to, but Quark can't pass up this golden opportunity. He's known Garak a long time and known of him even longer, and now that he has the guy's guts all neatly lined up on several dozen isolinear rods, he's never felt closer to the man. He makes a point of knowing things about his customers, but before yesterday, the most he knew about Garak was that he was an assassin, a tailor, a mean, weepy drunk, and friends with Bashir, Odo, and a smattering of other shopkeepers. That was it. But now...

He leans over the counter, closer to Garak's unblinking face. "You know," he says, with a smile rising slow on his cheeks, "if it's humans you like, I have a couple holosuite programs that might be just what you need."

Garak's gaze ascends as if on a motor, smooth and mechanical.

Good. He’s considering the bait. Now he just has to get him to bite. "All completely customizable. Skin, eyes, hair. You like long legs, they've got long legs. Scrawny, they're scrawny. Whatever you want. Although if you're really hung up on the one face, that can also be arranged. For the right price." When Garak just looks at him, Quark switches tactics. "Or maybe it's the uniform that does it for you? I've got 'em, but I'd suggest something out of my lingerie databases. I've still got some little Cardassian numbers filed away that I think even a man with your discerning tastes could appreciate. Just imagine, Doctor Bashir in a–"

He doesn't see the hand coming until it's already crushing his windpipe. Quark claws at it for several long, desperate moments while Garak continues to look.

Leeta scuttling over and yanking him away is what ultimately puts a stop to it, and it's while Quark is gasping in dramatic bursts of air that Leeta says in a rush, "Garak, please! Whatever he said, he didn't mean it!"

"Oh, I meant it," Quark coughs out with a high, strangled laugh, "he just didn't like it."

"Whatever conclusions you've drawn in the last twenty-six hours, allow me to dispel them," Garak says primly, as if he hadn't almost committed murder in broad daylight. "I am not a xenophile and I do not have feelings for Doctor Bashir. There are no less than two-hundred Cardassians currently aboard the station, and I assure you, none of them like me. Those poems were obviously planted."

Oh, but Quark is a little pissed now, unwise as that is. "Please, Garak," he says, "who has time to write that many poems about Julian just to mess with you? Two or three, maybe, but over seventy? If you're going to lie, at least don't insult our intelligence."

Garak's eyes flash and Quark ducks behind Leeta, repentant. Leeta sighs. "Garak, what's so bad about loving Julian?" she asks softly. "I thought the poems were really touching. It’s sweet how much you care for him."

But he's already staring into his PADD again. "I'm sorry, Miss Leeta, but I am a bit busy. Perhaps we can discuss my hypothetical feelings for your paramour another time."

"Julian and I have never been serious," she tries to assure him, but he's engrossed again, or at least pretending to be. Her and Quark share a look and leave him to it. Lesson learned.

"Let the bastard be pent up and miserable, then," Quark grumbles from the other end of the bar as he pours Table 3's drinks. A prickle on his neck has him looking up and there Garak's eyes are again, piercing, and Quark rushes off to deliver the drinks.

The three young Cardassians there are much more friendly. One has their nose stuck in one of the useless poetry PADDs while the other two smile at Quark while he sets out their orders.

"Three Raktajinos, extra bitter," Quark says, and is thanked. Polite. One even praises the drink's exoticness. Klingon coffee, exotic. Heh. "Your food will be out in a few."

Before he can finish turning, though, a hand is touching his arm. "What is the title of this anthology you include at every table?" the young man asks.

"Oh, that's not..." He sighs. "It's new. I can't remember."

"Find out for us, please," he says. "Works like these can be hard to come by on Prime and we make it our business to collect them. Whoever this author is, they're very unique."

"If these aren't banned on Prime already, they will be soon," his friend comments with a giggle.

"No doubt."

"'In my desolation, I am as weeds: Cut my roots and Let the waters take me, To drown and bloom anew, in You,'" the one with her nose in the PADD reads aloud, and shivers. "They'd burn the whole Central Archive down just for this one. It's so explicit."

"Let me see that," the boy demands, as the other one is already surging over to read over the girl's shoulder. Watching them fight over the PADD has Quark thinking back to the isolinear rods in his safe, and he hums thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder.

Garak isn't looking.

—

Glinn Halon Duvur. Former underling of Gul Dukat. Out of uniform, vacationing on Deep Space Nine with his wife and nine children. Spends his days gambling while his kids play unsupervised in the holosuites and his wife visits old friends.

Beloved uncle sent to trial by the Obsidian Order in 2356 and executed that same day for crimes of attempted sabotage against Cardassia.

Garak watches the man wander down the promenade sans his proud lineage, jingling a fat little bag of gold-pressed latinum and yet-unconverted leks. He wanders out of range, so Garak switches to the next camera and there that unfortunate face is again. He drums his fingers on the desk. It won't be long now.

An alert rings in his ear and he almost initiates the shockfield on impulse, but the flash of smooth, brown skin on a monitor stays his hand. The knocking comes, and that haunting voice calls out, "Garak! Are you there?"

Garak rests his head next to the surveillance screens.

Predictably, the doctor tries to input his override, but the door remains shut. There's a long pause.

"Garak..." Julian sounds irate. Garak hums. "Did you deprogram my override code? Nevermind how illegal that is, that's dangerous! What if you're injured? Or fall ill?"

He says this just after attempting to abuse his station privileges for personal reasons. Infuriating hypocrite.

"Oh, my barging in at random, odd hours is no less than you deserve, Garak," Julian says as if in response to Garak's thoughts. "You set that precedent in our relationship yourself."

Terrible man.

"Fine. I'll give you some more time, since you want it so badly, but I'll be back and when I am, that override had better work. If it doesn’t, I promise there will be hell to pay, my friend."

Beautiful man.

"Goodbye, Mr. Garak."

Goodbye, Doctor.

Glinn Duvur dies two hours later of alcohol poisoning while his wife is in bed with Gul Rilimn's wife.

—

“I just can’t believe it,” Kira is bitching. Jadzia smiles and sips her drink, looking out over the Replimat balcony at all the happy brunchgoers. “A Cardassian writing poetry about something that isn’t conquest or the wonders of dictatorial rule or, at best, the pride of the traditional family nobly bowing and scraping. I’ve never seen it.”

“It would certainly seem to run counter to Cardassian values.”

“And about Julian!” she shrieks in her inside voice, slapping her hands down on the table. “Garak the spy, writing love poetry about Julian. Going on and on about his–his...”

“Ass?” Jadzia offers.

“Eyes. His eyes! Ohhh, I knew he wanted to have sex with him, everyone knew that, but to write about his eyes like... like that? It’s practically Bajoran.”

“That’s true.”

Kira stops long enough in her tirade to eye her, and presses her lips into a thin line. “How are you so calm about this?”

Jadzia takes another sip. “I’m just fascinated,” she says. “I’ll admit, I’ve been looking at this more through Tobin’s eyes than my own. Have I ever told you that he met Lloja of Prim during his exile?”

“He did not.”

“He did, and Lloja flirted with him outrageously. It was embarrassing, looking back. Of course, nothing ever came of it, because Tobin was always hopelessly blind to those sorts of things even without the language barrier, but his children liked to joke that many of Lloja’s poems were about him.”

Kira’s jaw is hanging. “Were they?”

Jadzia grins and shrugs. Kira laughs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps,” Jadzia allows, “but I do wonder... Being able to call nervous, asexual Tobin the lover of Lloja of Prim would have been quite the notch in my belt. Think of the stories I could have told! And now here Julian is with the opportunity. I know it’s not the same, I mean, it’s Garak. But, you have to admit, to write about him like that...”

“He must really love him,” Kira finishes for her, stumped. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I didn’t see it, either,” Jadzia confesses. “I was still wrestling with the idea that they were actually friends. I thought their association was strictly professional and all the books and flirting were just a front.” She cradles her head in her hands suddenly and sighs. “Ugh, but those poems. The poems are so good! Kira...”

“I know,” she moans. “They’re heart-wrenching. Which one are you on now?”

“Thirty-nine. I came back home, but I came back gone.”

“Ouch.”

“I know.”

A shout from below interrupts them and they both shoot out of their seats. Below, a Cardassian man has just had a beam fall on top of him. Jadzia and Kira bound down the stairs to him, Jadzia already slapping a hand on her comm badge.

“Dax to Infirmary, a man has just been crushed, possibly impaled. Send a medical team to Replimat and be ready for emergency beam out.”

“Acknowledged, we’re on our way,” Girani says, but already Kira is looking up at Jadzia helplessly, the man’s wrist laying limp between her hands.

“He’s gone.”

“Shit!” Jadzia hunches over, hands on her knees. “That’s the third one today. Are Cardassians always this accident prone? No wonder you won the war.”

“No,” Kira says. “They’re not. You don’t think...”

“I don’t know,” Jadzia says grimly, and looks around at the crowd that’s formed. All Cardassian, all terrified. “But we need to find out.”

—

A Cardassian is sitting at the bar. This isn’t an unusual sight now, with the Festival of 90s Funk and Beyond coming up, but seeing one so young and looking so hunted is odd. Quark approaches him casually.

“What’ll you have?”

The Cardassian’s eyes dart. “Uh...” He leans over suddenly, cups both hands over his mouth, and whispers, “E. G. Special.”

Christ, these kids are going to kill him. “Coming right up,” he says in a normal person voice, and reaches under the bar for a glass. A little drink-mixing magic later, a beautiful fizzy blue drink is sitting between them, with an isolinear rod tucked neatly in the straw.

The Cardassian takes the drink between both hands excitedly, and Quark snaps his fingers in front of him. “Oh! Right,” the kid stutters, and all but launches the latinum at Quark’s face. “Thank you!” And off he goes, out of the bar with the glass still tight in his grasp.

“Idiot,” Quark mutters to himself, crouching carefully down to pick the latinum up off the floor without dirtying his expensive pants. “You’re supposed to take the straw, not the entire glass. That’s it, I’m switching to plastic. These little rebel brats don’t deserve my ni—Oh, hello, Constable! I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Odo looks as unimpressed as ever. “That’s a funny question since last I checked, I don’t drink.”

“Ah, right, because you’re a liquid. How could I forget. You know, one of these days, I ought to serve you up with a little umbrella, see how people like it. I’d bet you taste bitter.” Odo harrumphs, and Quark makes himself busy with wiping down the counter. “Well, out with it then. What nefarious scheme am I up to now? I love to hear your little stories.”

Four isolinear rods drop onto the counter, right where Quark was just cleaning. “Hey now,” he says, throwing a performative glare at the changeling. “Careful. If you shatter glass in my bar, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I just had the most interesting conversation with the Tokal family,” Odo says, steamrolling right over him. “It seems their four darling children had somehow come into some questionable reading material. They tried searching for it in the Central Archives and yet, despite it being clearly Cardassian in origin, they could not find it. And I don’t need to tell you that when a piece of Cardassian reading material isn’t in the Central Archives...”

Quark, from his plastered position on the floor, stares up into Odo’s face directly horizontal to his and smiles. “What?”

“It’s illegal,” Odo sneers, stretching his body even further over the bar and nearly sending Quark starfishing.

“Okay! Odo! I get it! But what does that have to do with me?”

“Quark!”

“Okay, okay! Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I’ll stop! I’ll stop, okay?”

“I know you’re going to stop, because I am going to confiscate every copy of Garak’s poetry that you have absconded with and destroy them.”

Quark gasps. “Book burning? In this day and age?”

“Garak did not give his permission for you to sell his work! He didn’t even want anyone to see it in the first place! Those poems were stolen. Now, I expect a list of every person you sold a copy to and a full and complete refund to be issued by tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

Quark glowers. “You’ve made yourself something, all right.”

“Quark...”

“Okay! All right. Consider it done.”

Turora Lumok. Obsidian Order operative and old colleague. Usually in deep cover in the Organian sectre, but has abandoned post to explore the space station. Barren, unattached. Cold. A model agent, if you ignore her unfortunate habit of going rogue and eliminating civilians on a whim.

Recruited into the Order by Enabran Tain’s former right hand, Euluk Bucun, who was assassinated by Elim Garak in 2341 under orders from Enabran Tain for suspicions of treason. Turora Lumok disciplined shortly afterward by Elim Garak for complaining that she had wanted to be the one to kill that bitch.

Garak watches as the woman pretends to touch up her makeup while scouting for cameras. “Oh, Lumok, you always were woefully obvious. Have you been expecting me? I wonder why.”

Satisfied with the positions of the cameras, she puts away her mirror and strolls out of sight.

Garak shakes his head. “Fool. You forget how long I’ve lived on this wretched station. I don’t need to see you every second to know where you are.”

But then, the smell of antiseptic. Starfleet issue soap. Herbal shampoo, unique, robust. Gels. Oils. Sweat.

He’s near.

Forcing calmness with a deep, measured breath, he takes off his eyepiece and slips it into his sleeve. He pays for the food he barely ate. He stands. He turns.

And is promptly thrust into the dark, deep woods of Julian Bashir’s eyes. “There you are, Garak! I’ve been looking all over for you,” the doctor says as if it’s just a regular day on Deep Space Nine. His hot, mammalian body caging him tightly in place against the table betrays the ruse. “Who was it you were talking to?”

Garak tries to step around him. Julian steps with him. “Oh, only ever myself. Forgive me, but you’ve caught me just on my way out. I have a strict appointment at 2.”

There’s Julian’s hand now. On his shoulder. Garak is calm. This is normal. “Well, why don’t I walk you there then.”

“My dear Doctor, I couldn’t rob you of your meal. Clearly you’ve just walked in.”

“Actually, I’ve found I’m craving something a bit different now.”

Garak makes to step around Julian again, and still Julian’s steps match his. It’s like they’re dancing. He doesn’t let this deter him. He’s not sure he’s capable of letting anything deter him now, with his heart trying to pound out of his throat. He keeps stepping doggedly forward, and Julian keeps mirroring, still with that damned hand burning through his tunic. “Well, you only have so much time before you must return to the infirmary, I know. Do not allow me to delay you in securing a table at a different locale.”

“Oh, but you’ve already delayed me so long. What’s a few more minutes?” A peek of teeth, a hint of warning. “Though I will admit... I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

“Then don’t.” Finally, Garak manages to elbow past this madness and shoot out of the restaurant. The station is so crowded these days, it’s short work to get lost in it. In a sea of ridges and black hair, Garak slips his eyepiece back on and lets the wave take him.

“Garak!”

Oh, for the Union’s sake—

He does not run. He does not stumble. He walks normally and not desperately, keeping his eye on both the path to the turbolift and Lumok. She’s down the corridor now, pretending to check her makeup again like an imbecile. Just a few paces more. Almost there...

“Garak, you’re the best dressed one here! You are not difficult to spot, you ridiculous dandy! Oh, no offense, Ma’am. Lovely scarf. Excuse me.”

There.

In the reflection of the mirror, Garak makes eye contact with the rogue and taps in the correct sequence on the device sewed into the seam of his pants just as the turbolift doors close behind him.

Like that, Turora Lumok is beamed into space and dies instantly, without a soul to mourn her, and Elim Garak walks back to his quarters with a hand over his mouth and a warmth on his shoulder, without a soul to mourn him, either.

—-

The Festival of Fierce and Fantastic Frogs is two days away and already it is being protested.

Outside Quark’s Bar is a growing army of dissident children with voice amplifiers and holoprojectors shouting to the stars that if they don’t get their porn back, they’ll tear it all down. Signs are projected in the air with essays cycling through them that look to be several pages each, a small holographic fire barely reaching ankle-height is lighting up the length of the promenade, and – perhaps most disturbingly – a comically inaccurate approximation of Odo is rotating at the center of the group, fitted in the typical regalia of the Cardassian military and holding a Klingon bat’leth. It is certainly... something.

“They’re Cardassians,” Quark is saying as he pours out some root beers. “They’ve probably never seen a protest in their lives, they don’t know what they’re doing. The Union puts an end to things like this pretty fast on the surface.”

“Heh,” Jadzia says, “what happens on DS9, stays on DS9.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Kira asks.

“It’s something Julian likes to say. Basically, they figure they can get away with speaking their minds here.”

Kira drums her fingers on the bar, staring into the flailing protestors thoughtfully.

Right then, Odo arrives back on the scene. It looks like he’s trying to get through, respectfully, but the protestors are not making it easy. Jadzia and Kira come to his rescue just as about fifteen Cardassians start forming a blockade around him.

“I walked around as you do, investigating the endless stars,” one young woman is yelling at him while he stands there with big helpless baby eyes, “and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind!”

“I don’t know what that means,” Odo says consolingly.

“Clearly!”

“Okay, okay, let him through!” Kira wiggles her way between the crowd and Odo, snatching him by the arm like a fish with a hook. “He’s not your enemy here, he was just upholding your laws!”

“The Cardassian government has no jurisdiction on a Bajoran station!”

“He made his choices!”

“Beautiful Julian would be ashamed of you! Repent! Repent!”

Kira and Jadzia manage to reel him most of the way through the protesters and he shapeshifts the rest of the journey. The protestors try to follow, but Quark bustles over to stop them. “No, no demonstrations inside! Remember who your allies are,” he says, and they all cow back. “Thank you.”

Odo ripples his form a couple times to make sure everything’s back in the right place and harrumphs. “Allies, Quark?”

“Yes, allies. It’s terrible what you’ve done to them. You can’t police art, Odo–-this is culture we're talking about here, the very bedrock of society.”

“And I’m sure this virtuous attitude of yours has nothing to do with the incredible profit you made and lost at the expense of our mutual friend.”

“Oh, I did him a favor.” Quark uncaps another bottle of Kanar and gestures back to the entrance, with its swarm of frothing Cardassian children. “Look, he’s got fans!”

“How has Garak been handling all this?” Kira asks Odo, sharing a look with Jadzia. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since he gave us that antivirus program.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Didn’t you have breakfast with him yesterday?”

“Hmmm, that would have been routine. Except he didn’t show. When I made it back to my office, I found a message from him apologizing, telling me he’s so busy with orders he’s lost all track of time.”

“How has he been getting commissions?” Jadzia asks. “His shop’s been closed all week.”

Odo rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure the reality is he’s simply avoiding the issue. Dr. Bashir has informed me he’s been treating him like ‘the black plague’ as well.”

“Julian’s one to talk. He practically pole-vaulted over a vedek the other day to get away from me.”

��Speak of the devil,” Quark says, looking towards the door, and everyone turns just as the commotion starts–or, more accurately, the commotion abruptly stops.

The protestors have all gone quiet, in apparent awe as they part around Julian like the red sea around Moses. He’s smiling stupidly as he stands in the center of them, nodding at something a Cardassian man is exclaiming. It’s an incredibly awkward scene, and Quark starts choking at some of the things his ears are picking up. “They’ve deified him,” he tells them, and Jadzia bursts into giggles at the idea, but Quark isn’t joking. “Really. He might as well be one of the prophets to them. You read the poems. You know.”

Ugh. Kira wrinkles her nose in disgust. The worst kind of blasphemy–horny blasphemy. “What is he even doing here?” she asks.

“Getting his head inflated,” Jadzia says dryly, because now that Quark has mentioned it, it’s pretty clear from the shit-eating grin on Julian’s face that that’s exactly what’s happening.

“Poor Garak.” Quark says it absentmindedly, but the comment gets several eyes turned on him. He’s shaking his head as he watches the scene unfold. “First, he falls for a human… humiliating… but then that love becomes public knowledge and several young beautiful Cardassians decide that he’s onto something, and now that human is going to get more action in a week than he’s seen his entire life. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of more than a few star-crossed romances, but this might just be the saddest.”

“Julian wouldn’t have an orgy the same week the whole station found out Garak’s in love with him,” Jadzia says, insulted on his behalf.

Quark hefts a tray up onto his shoulder. “He just did,” he says as he leaves to go do his job, and Jadzia whips her head around to see Julian escorting two attractive Cardassians away from the protest. Her jaw drops.

“Bastard,” Kira spits, surprising everyone, herself most of all. Those poems must’ve affected her more than she realized.

Odo clears his throat unnecessarily. “I’m no expert on the behavior of solids, but it seems to me that neither party is handling this situation well.”

“I’ll tell you how the pakrela should be handling this,” an older Cardassian sitting at the far end of the bar cuts in, with a twitch to him that makes it clear he’s more than a few deep. “He should be settling his assets, because he doesn’t have long now. Whatever his human is doing is the least of his worries. Ha. Hehe. Being a traitor wasn’t enough for him. No, now he’s gone and corrupted the next generation with his degeneracy. Exile was too soft a punishment. Uh-huh.”

Kira opens her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Odo touches her shoulder. “You speak as if you know him,” he notes mildly, because of course, the exact reason for Garak’s exile isn’t public record. It’s barely even private record. The Order doesn’t work that way–or didn’t, as it stands. It is interesting that this man is acting like he has classified information despite being a civilian.

But then, sometimes day drinkers just like to spout speculation as fact.

The man looks into his glass and laughs at his reflection. “Who doesn’t know Garak these days? But that’s temporary. He’ll be forgotten soon enough, just like the Order.” He finishes his drink and gets up. He insincerely mutters some friendly Cardassian farewell and starts to walk past them, but Kira can’t let it go.

“Excuse me, but what’s your name, sir? You’ve been so informative.”

He looks at her for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he says, and elbows past the protesters.

—

“Solt Mebol, left behind a widow and child six years ago when he was tragically killed in a transporter accident. In reality, he accepted an undercover mission which required him to fake his death and have his bond dissolved. A significant sacrifice. Certainly not one many Cardassians could have made.”

The Cardassian stares at Garak sitting on his couch. Turning, he tries to exit his temporary quarters, but the door won’t open.

Garak tuts. “Oh, you know better than that, Mebol.” He taps his disruptor with his forefinger, resting harmlessly against his knee. “The festival isn’t for another couple days, yet here you are. Catching up with old friends before the festivities, I assume? Only I haven’t found you in anyone’s company but your own. You must be lonely. Please, let me alleviate your loneliness for a while.”

The Cardassian sighs at the closed door. “Solt, is it?”

“I can tell you the names of your wife and child as well, if you’d like, and the city they live in. Do you know your wife never rebonded? Unusual behavior for a Romulan. Quite dangerous, as I understand it.”

Solt steps carefully into the small living space and sits in the chair opposite Garak, with the coffee table between them. “As one of the last living members of the Order, I don’t suppose you would consider letting me go?”

Garak smiles pleasantly. “I would be delighted.”

“Would you? I had a deal with Central Command and they’ve been good to me so far. You, however, have been known to…” He eyes the disruptor casually turned in his direction.

“Yes, I imagine I must be something of a mystery these days to my people. I have been… squirrely, is what I suppose a human would say, and I must as well now that I’ve been painted with their brush. Oh, it is an incredible sin, I know. That I should enjoy the company of an attractive alien while in exile.”

Solt snorts. “You expect me to believe those poems were the natural result of a fling?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything you do not wish to. I only say that it’s convenient that I should be seen as even more traitorous just as a swarm of Cardassians should enter the station.”

“What’s convenient is that you’re still alive. You have friends in high places willing to go to bat for you, in spite of everything you’ve done. It’s a disgrace. You are a selfish disloyal anarchist and no one is holding you accountable, because you just happened to be good at your job once and everyone likes the idea of having you as a potential weapon should the need for one arise. Until then, they’re content to keep you in a cabinet collecting dust and sentiment. You can wave that disruptor all you want, but we both know you make a poor operative now. You’re in love.”

Garak is still smiling, but Solt can see the signs of a grimace. Dusty, indeed. Too passionate. Too human. “I’m hardly so foolish. You know better than I the dangers of such things in our line of work. You’re little better than a puppet now that you’ve had a whiff of the truth, Mebol.”

“You’re right.” Solt attempts to raise one eye ridge, despite it being unfit for such maneuvers, and leans forward towards that disruptor. “Pull my strings, then, and let’s test that grip Bashir has on yours.”

—

Kira crashes into Garak’s quarters and kickflips past all his booby traps like Indiana Jones’ hotter cousin.

“What the fuck, Richard?” is basically what she says, only it’s in character, so it’s more like, “What the fuck, Garak!”

Garak spins around in his maniacal villain chair with a look of surprise. “How did you get in here, Major?” Miles bustles his way in after her with his impractically enormous toolkit, and Garak lets out an, “Ah,” then, sedately, “I suppose Dr. Bashir filed a complaint about my tampering with the door codes. Of course, there’s a perfectly logical explanation. You see, it–”

“This isn’t about door codes, Garak,” Kira yells. “What I want to know is why our best suspect for the sudden influx of murders on the station was just found drowned in his own toilet!”

“Oh my,” Garak says. “What an unfortunate end.”

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. We know what you’re capable of, but we’re good people and we didn’t want to accuse a victim until we had exhausted the rest of our line-up. Only, interestingly enough, they’re all dead, so now…” she marches over with the fury of the Prophets on her heels and stands imposingly over him, her teeth clenched, “here we are.”

“That is interesting.” He runs a hand down a roll of fabric in his lap, smoothing it. “I suppose you must have some of that ironclad evidence that the Federation so treasures.”

Kira glares at him.

Garak feigns looking around. “Oh, but I can’t help but notice the good Constable isn’t here with you. What could that mean? Surely not that you broke into my quarters without due cause or a hint of warning–at your own word, not even to fix my glitching door. For all you knew, I could have been in here writing one of my vaunted Bashir epics.”

Kira’s hands are in fists now. “The evidence we have would be more than enough to have your face plastered on every viewscreen in Cardassia and you know it.”

“The Federation and Bajoran legal processes do seem a tad inefficient in moments like these, don’t they?”

“Okay,” Miles cuts in, because he has Turbo PTSD and is not in the mood for a flare up. “I think I'll just wait in the hallway, then. Holler if you need me. Good luck, Major.”

Kira and Garak spend a few moments watching him waddle out of the room and then go back to staring each other down.

“Look, you ass,” Kira starts, “we couldn’t link every victim to the Cardassian government or some third-party organization, but we were able to link enough of them to recognize that these aren’t just random nobodies having ‘accidents.’ Someone was able to break into your computer and embarrass you and you don’t like that so you’re pitching a fit. I can’t have Odo arrest you – yet – but I can tell you to cut it out. This vigilantism isn’t helping–”

That gets a reaction. “Vigilantism!”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Self-defense.”

“They attacked you?”

“Possibly.”

“Goddamn you, Garak! Just… don’t do this anymore, okay?”

Garak looks at her with innocent astonishment, like he’s still bewildered by her totally plausible accusations. “Well. You have my word, I suppose,” he says, bemused.

—

Gul Skrain Dukat. Blessed with a wife, seven children, two sets of living parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, minus one father. Habitually cheats with lower ranked military officials, slaves, and barely legal adults, unbenownst to his family. Father was interrogated by Elim Garak and executed by the Union over live broadcast in the year 2350 for the crime of being a piece of shit.

Elim Garak was shortly thereafter levied with an amateurish execution attempt by Gul Dukat. It failed.

The second attempt will succeed, but at a great cost.

The Festival of Filthy Fucking Foot Fetishists has officially begun, but Garak is struggling to feel any enthusiasm. He is surrounded by his people. The station has been dimmed by 15% to better suit Cardassian eyes and misting stations have been set up in limited locations. Extinct and invented flowers crafted by Cardassian and Bajoran artisans decorate the banisters and doorways. A wash of blue, green, and sparkling gold lights up every direction. There is the smell of freshly prepared Cardassian sweets on the air, a gentle warmth suffuses the atmosphere, and children are laughing on the promenade. It’s the first time the station has felt not just tolerable, but nearly pleasant, in years.

But then, Garak has never felt particularly welcome among his people. As a child, he was an orphan generously cared for by service workers and sponsored by a government official, and as an adult, he was a member of the Order, which granted him more fear and loathing than it did admiration and respect. Companionship, in its truest form, was a rare thing to come by and not something he was encouraged to come by at all.

Perhaps that is why Dr. Bashir blindsided him.

In any case, Garak is delicately balanced on the line between proper misery and numbness. He gave up imbibing around the same time that he gave up the implant—or rather, the implant gave up on him—but he’s on his third cup now, wandering through the festivities with no particular direction in mind. The exact spot of this last operation isn’t important, only the timing.

He finishes his drink while a group play a spirited game of cold moba in front of him. It shouldn't be long now.

All the nearby screens suddenly flicker from the event schedule to Dukat’s sharp grin and Garak hums. There we are. He knew the bitch wouldn’t be able to resist showing his face.

“Welcome everyone to the biennial Festival of–” a baby wails, “generously hosted here on Deep Space Nine by Bajor and the Federation, and of course organized by our own prodigous Detapa Council. Ah, that wormhole… quite the view, isn’t it?”

Garak looks around for another food stall that serves alcohol.

There aren’t any stalls in his immediate vicinity, but there is a young Cardassian couple marching towards him while making dogged eye contact.

Oh no.

Garak starts to make a break for it. Not too fast, it won’t do to cause a stir, but there are a number of very good reasons for him to stay far away from any Cardassians who might recognize him right now. Especially if the source of that recognition is those damn poems he was too stupid and sentimental to destroy.

Before he can make it more than a few steps, however, he looks up to see another few Cardassians working their way towards him, also making eye contact.

No, no, no.

He makes to move towards the stairs then, only for his eyes to land squarely on him.

Him, wearing the silky green outfit he lovingly crafted for him a few months ago. Him, shining in the festival lights, casting him in an even more arresting shade of gold than usual. Him, looking determined and coming straight towards him.

Oh, fuck no.

“Garak,” Julian calls out, likely reading the panic on his face and stance and soul.

“Today, I am not a Gul, though,” Dukat is saying. “I am but a humble representative of the Cardassian Union in its totality, and as such, I would like to thank Colonel Kira Nerys and Captain Benjamin Sisko for their hand in this week’s festivities. They have been nothing if not accommodating these last few weeks while our coordinators ran rampant through their halls.”

He should have accounted for the possibility of this. Thinking of Julian had become excruciating as of late, but that was no excuse. Whatever interaction Julian had been hoping to have with him couldn’t be allowed, not now, and not only for the sake of Garak’s traitorous, disgusting feelings. Even if it would give the sweet man closure, it would not be worth his life.

“Now, it may be a bit unorthodox, but I thought it would be only fitting if the first Reenactment was carried out by our benevolent hosts, and the Lakarian City Acting Troupe were all too happy to take them under their wing.”

More eyes are turning towards the screen now, the laughing and playing and sloshing of cups quieting down. Julian is nearly with him, his approach halted only by the gathering crowd, and Garak can only pretend to be interested in Dukat’s speech while he racks his brain desperately for a solution. Any solution. Anything.

“I trust that the history of Cardassia is in capable hands.”

The screen flickers again and changes to a shot of one of Quark’s holodecks, where a lone Bajoran man stands in a beam of red light.

A hand grabs Garak roughly by the arm, and he nearly cries with relief when he sees that it’s Lumok.

Well, Lumok with the face and attire of a Bajoran, but that ever-present spark of unchecked malice in her eye is quite unmistakable to someone who worked with her for over a decade.

“Surprised, you ugly old regnar?” she asks under the actor’s impassioned opening monologue.

He sucks in a breath as the sharp edge of something presses into his back. “Impossible. They found your body caught on one of the station’s spires.”

“A simple bait and switch,” she purrs, pressing the weapon closer, slicing through his tunic. A pity. This was one of his nicer ones. “You’ve gotten sloppy.”

He manufactures a smile. “A knife, then? A favorite of yours, I recall, but terribly messy for such a public venue. Not to mention if your aim is even an inch off, I’ll be in and out of the infirmary within the day, as if nothing at all had happened.”

“Don’t lecture me,” she growls. “You can’t do that anymore. You’re not anyone to anyone. Your master is dead, and what did you do the second you were off leash for the first time in your life? You went and choked yourself on the first Starfleet sotl you could find. You’re pathetic.”

It took incredible effort to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his skull. “Oh, just stab me already.”

“I’m not going to stab you. I’ve done a bit of outsourcing, in fact.” She slid the knife from his lower back to his side and looped her arm through his, pinning him in place with a wide smile. “All I had to do was suggest to my new friend that you were infiltrating the Federation. That you were poisoning them against Bajor from the inside, uniting Cardassia and Starfleet in a secret alliance under the guise of wooing the CMO. No, no, you won’t be killed by one of your peers. Your death will be at the hands of a perfect stranger. A pointless death for a pointless man.” She leans in and whispers into his aural ridge, “It always was so easy to make people hate you.”

The next few seconds are a flurry of chaos. One second he’s watching as Human, Bajoran and Cardassian actors alike are all holding hands and reciting ancient poetry and the next he’s on the floor with a searing weight bearing down on him from calf to shoulder. There are screams and footfalls coming from all directions and Odo’s voice is immediately discernible shouting over the commotion. His back is on fire, he can’t breathe, and there’s a slash in his side, but he doesn’t miss the thump of Lumok’s body a few feet away, dead before she hits the ground.

“Garak? Garak?” the weight on him is speaking frantically, pawing at his head and shoulders. The weight shifts and the hands flip him onto his back. Those same hands pat him down, blazing a path down his chest and his stomach and his sides, stopping at the superficial gash near his rib, and Garak knows who this is before he even opens his eyes.

“Garak,” Julian sighs with relief. Garak was meant to be dead by phaser blast right now, but instead Julian Bashir is smiling down at him like he’s important, kneeling beside him, his hands on him, branding him with their incredible heat. It shouldn’t be possible. No one could be that fast.

“Doctor,” he manages on a wheeze. One of his ribs might be broken, actually.

“Dukat,” Sisko growls from the monitor in billowing robes and a long flowing wig, surrounded by flowers.

—

“Explain,” Sisko commands.

Having decided that showing weakness right now can only help his case, Garak is sitting hunched to the side, holding his reeling head in one hand. It’s through a hiss that he replies, “A woman named Turora Lumok was responsible for sabotaging the station with those poems forged with my data signature. The Bajoran woman who was just assassinated–she was no Bajoran, but rather one of the last remaining members of the Obsidian Order. She was hired by Dukat to kill me during the festival under the guise of a hate crime. No doubt because of her indomitable reputation, I’m sure. A number of Cardassian casualties these past several days were at her hands.”

Sisko walks to the viewport to stare out into the stars for a moment, processing this. “All his talk of friendship between Bajor and Cardassia…” he trails off, the ghost of a sneer on his lips as he turns back around. “His goal was just the opposite. He wanted to destroy any hope of cooperation.”

“And get me out of the way in the process,” Garak grumbles.

Sisko hums and wanders over to Garak’s side, looking down at him thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who assassinated Ms. Lumok?”

Garak stares at the floor through his fingers, his eyes glazed.

“Or who your informant is on Dukat’s involvement?”

“Captain,” Garak mutters, not looking up, “I have sat here concussed after an attempt on my life and shared with you everything that I know, and here you have not even told me who the tailor of your magnificent robe is.” He tugs half-heartedly at a strip of embroidery on the fabric. “I must admit, I am feeling a touch betrayed you didn’t come to me.”

Sisko flicks his eyes up to Julian, who has been standing in the corner with his hands behind his back. “Very well, Mr. Garak. I release you into Dr. Bashir’s care for now, but I expect to continue this conversation soon.” He massages his forehead. “Once I figure out what to do about this damned festival.”

Julian comes over to help Garak out of his chair, but Garak snaps upright and to the door before he can touch him. Sisko takes the opportunity to lean into Julian’s face and whisper, “Get more information out of him.” The doctor nods.

Julian isn’t angry when he steps out of Sisko’s office and sees that Garak is walking in the exact opposite direction of the infirmary, but he is disappointed.

“Mr. Garak,” he says urgently once he’s caught up to the idiot.

Mr. Garak interrupts him in the same tone, “Now, now, my dear doctor, we both know I have a dermal regenerator in my quarters, so we need not extend–”

“And I think we both know this is about much more than a few bumps and bruises. I’m afraid the time for beating around the bush passed quite a while ago.”

“You’re right, Doctor,” Garak says, coming to an abrupt stop and rounding on him with wild eyes. “There is an urgent matter we must discuss.” Julian’s eyebrows raise, and Garak nods severely. “Oh, yes, let us not ‘beat around the bush.’ We should talk about how you threw yourself directly into the line of a lethal phaser blast on the one in a millionth chance that you might save my life. The cost of such an action being almost certainly your own life, and yet, here you stand, and here I stand. Will wonders never cease.” Julian opens his mouth, but Garak raises a finger. “Nevermind that I was in the middle of an altercation with a very dangerous, very volatile woman who would not have hesitated for a second to dispose of you. She had a nasty habit of that. Now I knew that you were naive, Doctor, Doctor! I knew that! What I did not know – what I never could have guessed after all these years – was that you are an idiot.”

Julian stares back into Garak’s hissing face, unimpressed. Garak feels a wave of deja-vu and does not like it. It has no place here. And yet, Julian takes in a breath and smiles, raising his shoulders. “All right, Garak. If it’s really so important to you, we can talk about your suicide attempt.”

“What?” Garak bites out.

“You were going to let yourself get shot, yes?”

“I was n–” Garak starts to lie, disgusted, but is stopped by Julian stepping entirely too close. He stumbles back a step, then another when Julian attempts to crowd him again, and the familiarity of the routine has him shutting his eyes, rueful. They’re dancing again. It’s humiliating, the things this man makes him do, how effortlessly he can gain the upperhand. Most of the time without even having to lift a finger.

“You figured out Dukat’s plan and arranged for Lumok to die if she succeeded, but you expected her to. You didn’t expect to be saved,” the doctor tells his blank, unresponsive face. His eyes are still closed, his hands tense at his sides, but he knows Julian’s stepped closer again by the heat of his livid breath. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Very well. I didn’t figure it out. I was informed.”

“So, the captain was right.” He sounds bored, but Garak seizes his chance. His eyes open in a sudden burst of animation.

“Yes, I had an informant. I believe the major was familiar with him, a fellow by the name of Damoc who was recently presumed dead? Though I knew him far better as Mebol. We first met on Romulus, you see. In the event of my death, he had strict instructions to reveal Dukat’s plot in my stead and protect my remaining assets. In return, he was to receive some valuable coordinates, which by now he will have long accessed. I suppose he’s already booked passage off of the station, if he hasn’t already gone.”

“Quick to abandon you,” Julian says, completely off-script. Garak’s carefully measured breathing stutters.

“Surely Captain Sisko would like to have a word with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Doctor…” Garak says, lost. “There isn’t time to was–”

Suddenly there are two hands slamming into his chest like they’re iron forks and he’s a slab of meat, rocketing him back into the nearest wall with a loud thud. Garak gasps at the strength of it, astounded, but all his attention is quickly monopolized by Julian’s snarling words.

“Stop trying to distract me, Garak! Stop racing away before I can even properly get into the room, stop begging off lunch, stop ignoring my comms, and stop acting like your bloody life is over just because it was found out that you have feelings for me!”

“I–I don’t–”

“Lke hell you don’t! Thirty-seven.”

Garak blinks several times. “What?”

“Thirty-seven. That’s how many direct references to our literary discussions are in your poems. All chronologically concordant with the dates of those discussions, and six of which from that classic Earth album I recommended to you a year ago that you swore up and down sounded like a pack of voles had been crammed into a bucket and shaken around. I knew you were having me on. You love Mitski, and you love me.”

Garak’s face shutters.

Finally, Julian takes a step back. His hands remain on his chest, pinning him in place, but he allows him some oxygen. Exactly twenty seconds pass like this, before the doctor becomes impatient and huffs, “You can’t possibly have nothing to say.”

“What would you have me say, Doctor?”

“I would like you to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve heard it from friends and coworkers and strangers and every tourist on this damn station, it feels like, but I haven’t heard it from you.”

Garak is silent for a long time. Finally, he quietly asks, “You would further humiliate me this way? Knowing what you do? My dear friend…” He, carefully, with only the gentlest of pressure, puts a hand over one of Julian’s. “Please. You’ve read everything I could possibly have to say. What more could there be?”

Julian’s hands are unforgiving, but his eyes soften at the simple lowering of the curtain. It’s not the direct confession he was looking for, the I love you completely, traitorously, ruinously that his poems professed and a deep, broken part of Julian desperately wants to hear, but it is, it is. For Garak, this is as explicit as it gets, and Julian can feel his heart trying to catch in his throat.

“Garak,” he starts to say.

Garak isn’t scowling anymore. His eyes are shining as he looks away and sucks in an aggrieved breath. “Oh, please, let us skip this excruciating precursor. I have no intention of remaining on this station.”

Julian goes unnervingly still. “Excuse me?”

“I will need time to pack up my shop and settle my lease, but then I promise, you will never suffer the consequences of my unfortunate… condition again.” When Julian only stares at him with mounting alarm in his lovely eyes, Garak grimaces. “You must know I had no intention of pursuing you.” At least, not after the implant had been shut off and he’d realized what horrors he’d stumbled into with the doctor while under its influence, and by then, it was already too late. He was too weak to stop speaking to him, but he was not a complete monster. “I wouldn’t have. My writing was never about nurturing the emotions, only managing them.” A bit of a lie, but only a bit. He does love to languish and he never could resist a good innuendo. Their friendship had been infinitely precious to him, though, and he couldn’t bear the slow death it would undergo now that everyone knew the truth.

The worsening rumors that would spread. The suffering of Julian’s reputation, career, and love life with the Cardassian spy’s drastic affections hanging over everyone’s heads. The danger it would place them both in, the damage it had already done. The way Julian would know every time Garak flirted now, it was never idle. It had never been and could never be.

It would be a torture hitherto unthinkable. Better to sever the limb before it could rot.

Still, Julian is silent. The pressure on his chest is more a suggestion than a command now.

“Doctor, I…” he swallows back anymore hideous truths. “I apologize. Your rage is understandable, but I swear to you, I have every intention of righting this wrong.”

“Oh,” Julian says then, softly, as if he isn’t speaking to Garak at all, “you don’t know.”

“Doctor?”

He makes a bizarre human gesture, skimming the heel of his hand off his forehead. “My God! Of course. I thought it was pride, or shame, or paranoia. Anything and everything but this, but of course you would be this ridiculous. Well. That’s an easy enough problem to solve.”

“Doctor–?!”

The hands on his chest are gone. Instead, they’re seizing him by the head and pulling him up to connect his mouth to Julian’s.

Oh.

If Julian’s touch was a brand before, this is lava running down his throat, into his stomach and down, down, down to eat through the twenty inch thick duranium floor. Slow, thorough, and final in its devastation. A transformation that cannot be persuaded. He grapples with it, hands scrambling stupidly over and across his doctor’s shoulders. Whether it’s to pull him closer or push him away, he doesn’t know. He’s too busy being brutally altered to give it much thought.

His hands settle for burying themselves in his hair at some point. When doesn’t matter. Time holds no power here. It happens, and then he knows how soft Julian Bashir’s hair feels, and there is no going back.

The loss of control becomes alarming enough that he finally manages to pry himself away, gulping in desperate, anxious breaths of frigid station air. It works. The fire and the madness that followed it calms down and he manages the strength to push Julian back, but the wet smack of their lips disconnecting will echo in his dreams for the foreseeable future, as will the dizzy grin on Julian’s face inches from his own. There’s a hand on his ass keeping him from tumbling through the hole in the floor and a couple unlucky passersby gawking at the gruesome scene and Garak is a different creature entirely, incandescent and strange, forged anew in the curious fires of mutual attachment.

He feels insane.

“Doctor, you cannot truly be this naive.”

Julian looks anything but naive right then. He can’t focus on that, though. He needs to focus on the fact he was nearly assassinated; the fact that the kindest man alive nearly died with him out of some misguided terran idea that all lives are of equal value and importance.

And yet, Julian is leaning in to kiss him again, so Garak puts a hand on his chest and says, “You know what I am.”

Julian’s expression turns complicated and it’s clear he understands. Garak’s roiling emotions can’t settle on being relieved or horrified. How to go on after this? After knowing intimately what he almost had, with the smoke of it still thick in his eyes and his throat and his heart?

A gentle hand on his jaw brings him back to the moment, where Julian’s eyes are serious. “I know,” he murmurs.

Garak sucks in a wet breath.

“The question is,” Julian continues, even quieter, “do you know what I am?”

His head is spinning. “Doctor?”

Julian just smiles sadly, and it's clear that there are some long conversations in their future. But for now… “About that dermal regenerator in your quarters,” Julian begins, and Garak is relieved to find out that whatever stupid, lovely thing he’s become can still appreciate an innuendo.

—

Not long after, in the middle of telling Sisko all about Mebol over Julian’s comm badge while its owner watches expectantly in a state of teasing half-dress, he’s horrified to find that whatever thing he’s become is also rather eager to please.

—

A couple days later, the two of them are picking from a generous cut of flaming taspar in the Replimat.

Or, Garak is picking, anyway. Julian is stuffing his face. Ordinarily, this would mildly scandalize him, but the fact it’s taspar, one of the most traditional delicacies of his homeworld, being shoveled enthusiastically into that pretty face makes it so he can feel only hope.

Rather than giving into that inadvisable feeling, he takes a dainty sip of his tea and tries to look nonsuspect. Cardassians from all sides and angles are staring.

“About Miss Leeta…” Garak begins.

Julian wipes his face with the side of his hand. Disgusting, but oddly compelling. “What about her?”

“When will you be breaking the news to her?”

“Oh.” Julian smiles, bemused. “She knows.”

A tightness in his chest dispels slightly. “Does she?” he says faintly.

“She’s the one who first brought it up. We performed the Rite of Separation days ago. She said it was great timing, what with the festival and all. We didn’t even have to leave the station.”

“So you were together then.”

“Well, in a sense. We weren’t in love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Garak takes another sip, lowering his eyes. “I wasn’t worried. Only concerned for the young lady’s feelings.”

Julian’s face is incandescent. A Cardassian to his far left is openly gaping. “Of course, of course.” He leans suddenly over the table then, moving a hand forward to rest on his knee. “So, should I take this line of questioning as an indicator that you’re open to a relationship with me?”

Garak shifts a little in his seat, moving his knee further under the table and its shadows, but otherwise doesn’t pull away. “It would be unwise,” he says quietly, without actually saying no.

The hand squeezes. “It isn’t as if people won’t assume anyway.”

“Rumors can be dispelled. Redirected. Altered.” He reaches forward to take a small saucière and pours a bright red sauce over a couple groatcakes. “There would be no coming back from a confirmation.”

Julian’s hand falls away. “Would it be so bad?”

“I don’t know,” Garak says, splitting a cake up into three neat sections. “Would it, Doctor?”

A Bajoran couple walks past their table then, and while one purposely avoids eye contact and seems to be giving them a wide berth, the other throws a meaningful glare Julian’s way. This is the fourth judgemental or pitying look he’s received since they came in for brunch. Julian calmly returns the look, refusing to be the first to look away, until finally the man averts his eyes and Julian looks back to Garak with a stern smile. Garak inclines his head.

“Be careful, Doctor,” Garak goes on. “Rumors can ruin lives. End careers.” He scoops up a bite of his cake, dripping with red sauce, and lifts it to his mouth. “Kill,” he finishes, and eats.

At that, Julian leans back in his seat with his arms crossed tight. Garak gives him his time. It’s a relief to have finally made a dent in Julian’s lovesick, idealistic conviction–and Garak can admit, after the last few days, that it is lovesickness. Julian’s decided he loves him back and there will be no stopping him from pursuing this, but there may yet be some tempering. A small, equally stubborn, sentimental part of Garak despairs at the whole horrid affair, but the behemoth of his good sense squashes this part down with little difficulty.

It’s this moment that a smattering of young Cardassians, accompanied by one Jadzia Dax, arrive at their table. Immediately, Garak recognizes them as the ones that nearly intercepted his meeting with Lumok and his stomach drops. Julian, on the other hand, brightens back up.

“Well, hello there,” he says warmly.

Jadzia responds first, with each elbow leaned on a Cardassian’s shoulder and a knowing sparkle in her blue eyes, “Hello to you.” The Cardassians all echo with similar greetings, some shy, others giddy.

One young woman standing at the front, with her hair in three elaborately plaited braids and little makeup, is looking at Garak with particular interest. “You’re the one who wrote the poems about Julian.”

Garak looks at the girl coolly. “Do you mean Dr. Bashir?”

She goes blue. “Oh, um. Yes. I do.” She tucks an imaginary lock of hair into her perfectly coiffed hair and lowers her head respectfully. “My apologies, Doctor.”

“Hey now,” the doctor scolds with good humor, “none of that. We’re all friends here.”

The girl throws another searching glance Garak’s way. “Friends?”

That’s enough of that. “This is certainly quite the surprise,” Garak says genially, plastering on his most pleasant smile. “Is there something you needed? As Deep Space Nine’s resident Cardassian tailor and reputed troubadour, I’m always happy to be of service.” Julian sends him a sharp look, which he ignores.

Jadzia is looking as foxy as she ever does, with a grin nearly to her spotted ears. “Julian asked me to bring them here,” she says too happily, and Garak has to sit back in his seat to process that. Julian scratches his neck with a guilty smile, obliviously alluring. It cannot be overstated that there are, still, eyes on them from all directions and angles.

“Garak, sir,” the Cardassian woman-child begins again, earnest, “let me start over. My name is Inia Milam. I am the President of the Ivory State Liberation Library. We collect–”

“Madam,” Garak interrupts her quietly, stunned. “This is hardly the time and place.” He blinks, still shocked stupid by her brazenness, and leans towards her, peering into her distressingly young features with beseeching desperation. “And I am hardly the audience.”

Milam doesn’t appear to process his warning at all, though. She just continues to look inquisitive. She has that gleam in her eyes that is common in Cardassian women, calculating and intelligent, but there’s something else there. Something indefinable that he’s seen hundreds of times over an interrogation table, but without the fear to staunch it. Without the hopelessness. It makes his stomach flip. “On the contrary, you are exactly the sort of person we look for.” She bows her head. “Dr. Bashir promised that if we assisted him a few days prior, he would introduce us so that I could formally welcome your book of poems into our shelves. I apologize if this comes as a surprise. I wish only to thank you for your excellent contribution, E. G., and tell you that we hope to welcome many more pieces from you in the future. I’ll be in touch. Dr. Bashir.” She nods to him, returns his gentle smile, and walks confidently away. The rest of the group mirror her, voicing similar words of polite farewell and appreciation, and leave.

Garak forces himself not to track their departure and instead picks up his fork again, as if nothing world-shattering has occurred at all. The cake is tasteless in his mouth.

Julian is concealing nothing of his thoughts, however. He’s staring openly at Garak, as if he’s a bomb and he’s trying to figure out which color wire to cut.

Ultimately, it’s Jadzia that breaks the tension. “Well,” she says, “that is some harem you’ve got there, Julian.”

“Jadzia,” Julian barks. She laughs.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing.” Uncharacteristically, her impish smile turns regretful. “Now that that’s out of the way, I do have to bring your friend in for questioning,” she says, and that explains that. “I’m sorry, boys. I stalled Ben as long as I could.”

Garak polishes off the last of his meal and takes one last gulp of his tea to wash it down. With that done, he stands with a placid, conciliatory smile.

Julian puts a hand on his shoulder before he can take a step. “I’ll come see you after my shift.” Those lovely, dark, deep eyes search his, pinning him like a moth above his fireplace. “Okay?”

Garak inhales. “Without end,” he murmurs, waits for Julian’s eyes to light in understanding, and then aloud says, “I am at your disposal, Doctor. Good day.” With that and a firm, friendly pat on Julian’s hand, he limps away.

Jadzia rather pointedly watches him limp to the exit for a few long seconds before throwing Julian a rakish grin. “Well, well,” she says largely. Julian pretends not to notice, and Jadzia pivots on her heel after Garak.

“Before we lock you up and throw away the key, could you sign my datarod,” Julian hears Jadzia asking, and he shakes his head, unsuccessfully trying to rub away his smile.

Without end Do I think of you and so Come to me at night. For on the path of dreams at least, There's no one to disapprove! Ono no Komachi

#my posts #garashir #I wanted to post this on April 1st but LONG SIGH it didn't work out #at least it's still april. pranking people on the 1st is so predictable anyway #fics I'll never write #credits to ono no komachi cynthia cruz and pablo neruda #really weird how tumblr just lets you publish blank posts like this one #this entirely blank post with nothing in it at all #very strange

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heavensentbabe · 1 year

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𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 💭💭

What I like about loassumption, is that you don't have to dwell on potential outcomes as 'what ifs' or 'what could've been'. You can revise, you can just embody a new state of having fulfilled whatever it is you wanted in the past. If you apply, and quit complaining about the old story, you'll find this liberating.

1. The old story doesn't exist anymore, you're completely removed from it. If it comes back to you in thoughts, correct it with the new story.

2. Don't worry, you're not practicing perfection. It's alright if you fall out of the new state and back into the old story again; you can spiral. Please allow yourself the space to make mistakes, allow yourself to be human. As long as you pick yourself up again.

3. As long as you keep consistently coming back to the new story, and stick with it, you're doing well. Wake up thinking from it, sleep thinking from it. Even the gap between morning and night, you're coming back to the state.

4. Relish in that new state, the same way you've always dwelled in negative states in the past. Marinade in the fact that you have all it is that you want, and you've already manifested it — creation is done!

5. Persist, persist, persist. So long as you don't allow the old story to be dominant anymore!

You're to be fully saturated with the new story. Whatever the hell you want, you have it. And that includes new memories, too. Revision can affect any tense. You can use it to continue a new current story, or change the story of past events.

ᴱˣᵃᵐᵖˡᵉˢ

• Don't like how that TV show ended? Revise it from the very first episode, to the details you didn't want. It ended exactly how you wanted it to end. It had the narrative you wanted it to have and everything about it is perfect now. Wow you're so powerful that you changed past events of a well known fictional series? Congratulations for using your god powerful abilities.

• You're anxious about the grades you'll get once the results come out? Revise your state; 'no I'm excited to get my grades because I know I did so well because I've always done well.' Of course you did well, of course you got distinctions. You always got distinctions. Your worst mark is an 80 % .

• You felt like your hair hasn't been healthy/ growing for years? Revise it. Your hair has always been healthy. You only have memories of people complimenting your hair.

• You're not comfortable in your body shape/appearance? Revise it. You were always meant to look the way that made you comfortable. Right now, you're so comfortable in your body and skin. You feel so content in your desired body, you look exactly the way that you feel about yourself now. Everything is perfect!

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘵 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺

At the end of the day, think from when you woke in the morning. Where did you wake up? How did you wake up looking like? Is there a desired person beside you? Did you wake up in your desired mansion? What is your daily routine of your desired lifestyle? Did you go to your desired job?

You don't have to be that detailed about your daily revisions. As long as everyday you're living the life you wanted. You can revise in any technique. Visualizing how the day went, journaling it — writing it down in your diary, voice recording how your day went etc.

Please utilize it, it's so perfect if you have an issue with constantly embodying states or if you may have shitty days! And you don't just revise by the end of the days, you can revise on the spot!!

For example, let's say you're out & about and you're driving/walking passed advertising boards. And you're living in the end as a fashion model!

Well, those boards you passed by had your face in them. You saw your face there and oh my god you're so famous because it's at least twelve boards you spotted your face in!

It can be really as simple as scrolling through your phone, and revising that every social platform you go to, you see people using your face as their avi.

Revision can be used in so many ways, don't waste it.

#law of assumption #loa #neville goddard #manifesting #manifestyourdreams #affirmyourreality #affirm and persist #visualizing #scripting #revision #revising #state of being #self concept #loassumption

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vendetta-ari · 3 months

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Helooooo! I saw that you started a Hazbin Hotel blog and I wanted to make a requesttt! Also I hope you’re having a good day!! ♡

Ok ok ok so what is Vox finds out that his assistant (aka the reader preferably f!) was a famous dancer in her past life so to get more viewers he constantly creates advertisements for her performances (once she finally agrees to perform again) And one day he finally could make it to one of her shows he just becomes absolutely head over heels for the reader and it’s all lovey dovey and tooth achingly sweettt

If you could do this that would be great!

Hiii! omfg, I loved this Idea so much!! I tweaked the idea a bit, I hope that's okay with you? I hope you enjoy though hun <3

You were sitting bored at home, all alone with nothing to do. Vox was in some meeting with Camilla so you couldn't annoy him this time, to your dismay. Scrolling through your phone on Voxtagram you saw a few people dancing, you scoffed “I could do so much better..” you thought to yourself. and you did! Back when you were alive you used to be a flamenco dancer with a beautiful red flowy dress and your hair slicked back into a ponytail. Ah the good old days right? but.. I guess they didn't have to be just memories, right? You had talent! you should take it up again! I mean, you had nothing better to do! You grabbed a Voxtek speaker and connected it to your phone playing “Rosa Maria '' by Paco de Lucía. You stretched a bit and started dancing to the rhythm, getting lost in the beats your hair swung back on fourth, the music was loud enough for all your neighbors to hear, but you could honestly care less. Dancing again, god It gave you such a rush.. despite being in hell, you'd never felt more alive.

The next morning you had rushed to work, an assistant for Voxtek had you waking up early, but everything else about that job was great! you got to see the almighty Vee's everyday! despite Valentino's tantrums you had to take care of a few times, and velvette's constant teasing, you had grown attached to them. Especially Vox, your boyfriend. The day was pretty easy, you had finished the majority of your paperwork in the first few hours of your shift. Honestly, you deserve a break. So you gave yourself one, but you craved the freedom you felt while dancing, so you put on some headphones and blasted some flamenco dancing music, once again dancing to the rhythm, feeling a sense of freedom like never before. Unbeknownst to you though, Vox was standing right behind you holding a cup of coffee with his jaw wide open. He was in awe of your beauty taking in every minute of it. Unfortunately for him, you noticed quickly and quickly jumped back, the headphones falling off of your head and landing on the ground. In complete embarrassment, you stood still staring at Vox, he smiled. “I never knew you could dance darling. why didn't you tell me?”. You tried shaking off the embarrassment, but you're sure he could tell by your expressions. “I dunno why I never told you. it never came up I guess? I used to be a flamenco dancer when I was alive, and I recently just started dancing again”. Vox walked up and brushed the hair out of my face with his slender and sharp fingers. He smirked, “Y'know doll, you've really got a talent for this” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him while grinning. You smiled at his affections pulling him in for a hug you buried your head into his shoulders and neck. “Talent like this…” Vox continued, running his hands down your hair “It can't be wasted.. Oh! Here's an idea! you could do advertisements for Voxtek while you dance!” You almost choked in air at the mention of this idea, I mean, you making advertisements dancing? that's insane.. you just started practicing again- it's nothing more than a hobby..although you did dance in your past life, I guess it wouldn't be a stretch? After thinking about it for what seemed like an eternity to Vox, you agreed to it.

A few weeks went by with your new job, Vox seemed so proud and happy with you. as a treat, he took you out on a date. He wanted this date to be different though, usually he would call up a limousine and take you to a fancy restaurant. but you deserved something more heartfelt, so he took you on a walk around town and after you two would both have a nice home cooked meal made by him. it was perfect, but on your walk you certainly got noticed because of your new advertising job a lot, catcalled and flirted with. It's a miracle Vox didn't rip their heads off when they said those things. needless to say Vox didn't let you advertise for Voxtek again. The poor jealous man hated the stares you were getting, he was close to causing another blackout. He did blow a few fuses and gave you back your old assistant job and he wouldn't let you leave his sight. The advertising was fun while it lasted through, it felt freeing, like being a human again. don't worry though you'll convince him to give you back your freeing job, y'know he really can't say no to you. hey, maybe If you're lucky if you'll teach him how to dance!

I hope you enjoyed the story anon! I tried my best LMAO

(Not revised, word count is 805)

-xoxo, Ari

#fanfic #x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #romantic #writing #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel

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callmearcturus · 1 year

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The Verge got ahold of Elon's meeting with his new pals and if you got time, you should scroll past the highlights and read the entire thing because its absolutely balls to the wall batshit. I just liveblogged it to my discord server.

I think I very rapidly want to improve every aspect of Twitter. Search I know we can improve immediately and in a number of ways. I mean, just this morning, I actually was just looking for Jack [Dorsey] actually. And I typed Jack into the search engine, and “@jack” was not the number one thing. But that should be the number one thing. So then I just had to type “@jack” in directly. If you type j-a-c-k, your number one thing should be Jack Dorsey. I mean, that’s probably what you’re looking for, you know? So I think anything we do to improve any aspect of the system, let’s do it right away.

Elon legitimately thinks we give a shit about how the search functions and that's a huge thing that'll bring people in. bitch, people read their TIMELINES?????

also the WILD assumption that if I type a very common 4 letter name i OBVIOUSLY want to see jack dorsey. what the fuck.

I’d love to see ads for gizmos. If I saw ads for gizmos, I love gizmos, of course, I’d buy them all in a click. Even if they’re not that great, I’ll still buy gizmos. I love technology. I’ll see content for gizmos but not an ad or an ability to actually buy the gizmo. So then I have to send it to my assistant like, “Please buy this gizmo.” That’s how it goes generally. But I’d be happy to just click on it and buy it.

Twitter, which is having an advertiser crisis of Elon's own making which may lead to lawsuits from the likes of Eli fucking Lilly, wants more fun ads.

oh and he wants to make twitter into A BANK. he wants to give verified users like 10$ (reminder: you pay 8$ to be verified) so people will start sending each other money. what happens when they wanna send to someone who doesn't want to hook up their fucking bank info to twitter? oh we'll send out debit cards with the amount. (for real) and elon says they'll take all the money ppl put on twitter and place it into a high yield account to collect the interest

elon, you don't HAVE cash to place into an account right now, and its a FUCKING RECESSION and you just TANKED twitter's credit advisory score, so who is gonna give you this high yield account, pal

I’ve been through the recession of 2000 and 2001 and 2008-9, and I’m somewhat paranoid about dying in recessions. I have recession PTSD from keeping X and PayPal alive through the 2000 recession, keeping Tesla alive in the 2009 recession.

i cordially invite elon to sit on a rusted steel dildo

oh also he's forcing everyone back to "the office" even if they live in remote locations in an attempt to get more people off the payroll. that's why he's doing it.

twitter genuinely might not last a month.

#twitter #this transcript is fucking BANANAS

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powdermelonkeg · 8 months

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Something websites (*cough* Tumblr *cough*) need to learn is that what retains an audience isn't an abundance of new bells and whistles to play with, it's a coherent experience overall.

When someone joins a website, you don't need to grab their attention and hold it. They're already testing the waters. They've agreed to sign up. You've won on that front, and they're there for something specific you already have that they're hoping works well.

What drives them away is frustration.

Frustration, frustration, frustration.

Learning curves are going to be a part of any new website experience; they're something the user comes to terms with, in their own time. But broken or bad features are going to make them jump sites.

On top of that, constantly adding new features makes them feel like all the hard work they've put in to learning what you have isn't worth it; your website looks unstable and your staff looks incompetent, because it gives the impression that you don't know what you're doing.

You are floundering. It makes your new users nervous. It makes your old users hesitate to bring anyone else on board. And why should they? Why should they put effort into it if you're going to throw that effort away next Tuesday? Why get used to a UI that you're not going to bother to keep? Why customize anything if you're going to whittle that customization away?

Between that and the broken, unattended features of this site—the tag organization failing, the inability to look up posts word-for-word, the video player either refusing to play or yanking you to the top of the dashboard, images taking forever to load, advertisements blaring at full volume when you scroll past, you have your problem.

You have the reason why your numbers are failing.

It's not that you're not interesting enough.

It's not that you're too difficult to understand.

It's that you aren't improving what you have, yet you keep adding more half-broken things and unwanted copycat features to the pile.

It's that you're losing your identity in pursuit of a hypothetical perfect customer.

It's that you are actively telling your user base that you prefer those hypothetical customers over them. And your user base, your real people who make you happen, are smart enough to know where your priorities lie.

The bulk of this post talks about Tumblr, but other sites have gone the same way. Twitter is dead and its corpse is decaying in the street. Reddit has sabotaged any trust its users had in its management. If you'd like a really old example—I used to use Fanfiction Net. It's not the most intuitive website in the world, but it was the first one I called home.

I used it to host my works. The adware now on it makes it a hassle to navigate. The bots make comment sections and private messages a dread rather than a joy. So I moved on.

I also used to use it to collaborate on stories with my now-roommate. The message limit was 300 a day. When you're writing dialogue between characters, that's nothing.

So I moved on. We started messaging on Facebook. It was better, it didn't have a limit. But then I learned Discord existed, and I could edit messages, make dedicated channels, etc. So I moved on from Facebook to Discord. And Discord had a steep learning curve, especially if you're trying to make your own server rather than contribute to one. But, most importantly, the payoff was worth it.

If Discord changed its layout every other month while I was learning it, and broke how its reactions worked, and kept shifting what it meant to create a channel? If it opted me into servers I didn't sign up for, in hopes of engagement? If its text never formatted correctly, or its search function only went back a day or two?

I would have gone right back to Facebook. Even if it's a more basic experience, basic is always preferable to unstable.

Figure out what you want, websites.

Slow growth, or a gamble?

You're paying for your magic slot machine in users.

#negative salt #long post #this has been on my mind a lot lately

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briarrolfe · 6 months

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Recently, I was sent a job listing. It called for a graphic designer "to produce direct response static & video ads for various social media channels, such as Facebook, TikTok, Snapchat, and YouTube." So, even though it was asking for a graphic designer, it wasn't a graphic design job—it was an advertising/social media/videography job. The career I've dedicated eight years of my life to is the bit the ad referred to as 'static'.

Ever since, I've been thinking about this idea that video is the future, and also I have been (not coincidentally) extremely depressed. Not to be all "you kids and your phones," but...

In advertising, your consumer's attention is money. Video is THE most attention-demanding form of advertising and therefore the most bang for your buck. It's why Facebook fudged their own stats for the effectiveness of pivoting to video so aggressively in the first place. If your consumer is reading something—a magazine, a poster, a book, something on their phone—then they're still listening, and if something else demands their attention, they'll just look up. If they're listening—to somebody talking, to music, to a podcast—then their eyes and hands are free to do whatever they like. They can look at the world around them, which involves many forms of competing visual advertising.

Video is a media form that doesn't stop. It keeps talking when your consumer looks up, and then keeps moving to grab their visual attention again. The best method for advertising is one that a consumer has to exert energy to not pay attention to.

(—This is why I hate video so much as somebody with ADHD. When my dopamine and blood sugar are low, focusing past someone playing TikTok audio is hard enough for me that it hurts. I've never had the same problem with radio or with like... idk, billboards. And TV is kind of bad, but at least it makes predictable sounds, whereas every person who films a TikTok with sudden screams or yelling in it is, in my opinion, going to hell.)

This is why the UI for platforms like TikTok and Instagram have autoplay, algorithms that disappear things you've seen so quickly, no scrub bars, and don't have skip or pause buttons. Your consumer has to keep their phone in hand to keep swiping or scrolling to properly engage. If that consumer can't stop a video or go back, then the platform can train them not to look up until the video is over. Anxiety that a user will lose their place or not be able to keep up with what is happening is part of what keeps them from looking away.

This is also a reason to be suspicious of why so many tech companies are obsessed with VR in general. A phone that people have to hold and look at and listen to is pretty good, right? But they can ultimately still put it down when an ad plays. It would be way better if we could put the advertising somewhere that tracks and follows their eye movements so that they literally can't look away.

We all know that text is still a better, faster, and more information-dense delivery system. Sometimes I see people mourning the pivot to video because it's a worse way to consume information. They're right! It is! But social media platforms have NO INTEREST in providing their users with like, actual reliable information. If they did, then social media companies would have no interest in AI.

(—This is also why they have no interest in fighting misinformation on their services. People who get radicalised are very engaged platform users. And the people who radicalise them come with massive budgets for ad spend.)

All social media platforms want is to get consumers hooked on their content so that they'll continue to deliver ad revenue. Video is the best way of achieving that. That's why we're all pivoting to algorithms and video. That's why Tumblr Live exists and Snapchat miraculously has not died.

Anyway. I chose to become a graphic designer.

#graphic design #DON'T pivot to video. Just never do it.#source: I have worked in communications for five years #remind me to post about how Facebook farms what my old comms team called 'rage clicks' sometime #writing essays on tumblr dot com

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bellewintersroe · 4 months

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Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

ahhhh sorry for such a big break!!! I’ve been super busy and had no motivation to write- hopefully this writers block doesn’t last too much longer!! Here’s the LINK for part 17. Part 18 - Leni struggles with the loneliness she didn’t expect when arriving back in England. Without speaking to Max and completely skipping the Las Vegas GP, she thinks she’s hit a low point. Little does she know it’s about to get a whole lot worse when Max spots her with no other than her ex-boyfriend…

Sunday, 19th November 2023 - Las Vegas GP weekend.

The Las Vegas weekend was booming. Parties were happening left right and centre, alcohol was flowing and the advertising was just obnoxious.

Obnoxious that was to me. Whilst the race was occurring I was fast asleep- that quiet Sunday afternoon I sat in a local pub with a handful of my closer friends from my school days. It would’ve been pretty wholesome if my ex boyfriend didn’t just turn up out of the blue. I couldn’t have rolled my eyes any harder, immediately turning back to my phone to scroll past the many pictures of Max celebrating his win.

The sense of separation was straight up depressing. In fact, what happened between Max and I seemed to hurt worse than my breakup with my boyfriend of four years. I very quickly began to realise the overwhelmingly stupid mistake I’d made with Max. I no longer knew how to handle the feelings I had for him- who to tell, who to turn to. I replayed every moment over and over in my head about where it all went wrong- how it all went wrong. I was positive I’d exhausted all my friend’s ears about the topic, yet I still couldn’t rid the ache off my chest, no matter how hard I tried. “Guys let’s get a picture!!” My attention was diverted to my friend holding a phone up at the head of the table. Little did I know, taking that picture was about to make my life 10x more dramatic. It seemed that Max somehow did see a lot of things on social media, including the pictures of me and my friends and, sadly, my ex boyfriend sat right next to me. It’s not like I even talked to him once. So of course when my phone buzzed whilst I was sat at home later that evening, it was like all my prayers had been answered. Max had text. However, reading the message wasn’t so… prayers-being-answered-worthy. “I’m gonna go to bed, night night, you two.” I was very quick to leave the room I was in, my two siblings watching me in confusion as I sheepishly hurried upstairs. I didn’t even make it to my room before I was stood still, rereading the bitter toned text from Max.

Max: you could have told me if there was a reason you didn’t want to be with me

The message was short, sharp, it kinda didn’t make any sense, hence to why I was constantly re-reading it. My heart rate was sky high, and if I didn’t eventually collapse on my bed, I would’ve fainted from the lack of oxygen. I didn’t have it in me to hold the reply for another few minutes. I stared in utter confusion, feeling all the colour drain from my face. Leni: what????

Max: you’re back with your ex already

I momentarily frowned at the text, wincing in utter confusion. It became very clear what he was talking about when I remembered the picture from prior today. I felt borderline frantic, then silly. Max being bothered about this was a punch in the gut, maybe now was my chance to explain myself completely. Leni: he’s still friends with everybody, I didn’t speak to him once but I can’t stop him from going out to the same places as me? Max: ok

Leni: can we talk properly about all this? I let out a sigh, feeling as though my chest was about to literally explode. I couldn’t crucify with myself any longer knowing I’d completely destroyed this. Now Max was being blunt? Borderline petty? I knew how he normally text and this wasn’t right. The tears began to form around the same time my fingers started to tremble over my keypad. Max: I don’t know what there’s to talk about Leni

Leni: the fact you think I didn’t want to be serious with you because of my ex?? Max: I know that’s not the only reason

Leni: no its not a reason at all, me and my ex literally haven’t spoken a word to each other since we broke up, things didn’t work between us and I don’t want them to, I stopped things cos you’ve literally just broken up with Kelly, its way too soon

Max: it’s been months Leni, you know how I felt about that relationship and exactly why it ended, you know I would’ve waited for you, but it was all too immature for me, sleeping with each other and then nothing progresses? I don’t want that with you. Despite my attempts, there was no possible way I could even fathom a response. Anything I typed sounded pathetic or desperate- exactly how I felt. Max thought I was immature, maybe I was, but it still hurt to hear from him. I was torn between begging desperately for his forgiveness or succumbing to my internalised rage- thankfully I decided neither would work.

Instead, I kept myself to myself, using my I phone notes to rant out my dismay about the situation- about myself. I’d played Olivia Rodrigo on repeat, cried myself to sleep and during my showers, most mornings, if not all, I woke up with puffy eyes. I had officially hit rock bottom, and there was nothing I could do. I stared at myself back in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed and despite my best efforts, the swelling around them hadn’t gone down. It didn’t help I couldn’t stop crying. I was so pathetic and immature, Max was right. I was being so dramatic, treating this like I’d broken up from my decade-long boyfriend. But I soon came to realise that’s exactly what it felt like. I’d been friends with Max for as long as I could remember, even during the awkward teenage days when I was too scared to be around boys. I remembered the prior few years before, when I was so happy to see him at the Grand Prix weekends, how close we’d been. Maybe getting together in the first place was a mistake? No. No that can’t be right.

How could it be when I’d just realised I loved him- and I think I always had.

My forehead dropped against the mirror with a groan, only picking it up when my phone screen lit up from the floor below me. At first my eyebrows knotted together, then they released in surprise.

Dad: I’ve bought your tickets to fly to AUH on Thursday. Geri’s told me you’ve been moping around, we’ll talk about it when you get here but I’m not having you missing the last Grand Prix. Fuck. Don’t get me wrong- anybody should and would be grateful for their dad doing this for them, and I was. But the thought of seeing Max was terrifying- I felt like an outsider, somebody who shouldn’t be there. It dawned on me that everybody’s friends and families would be there- including Max- I’d have to face his mum and sister knowing everything that had happened between us. I proceeded to drop my head against the mirror again. The anxiousness grew in my belly fast, all I wanted these past few days was to see Max, now all I could hope was for not to see him. As much as I hated to admit it, I absolutely dreaded the Grand Prix. Not only was I an angsty mess- I was an ungrateful one too…

————————————————————————

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389 @eviethetheatrefreak @rossylightwood @formula1mount @gulphulp @lou-bean28

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x oc

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ghostybat00 · 8 months

Text

✧OLDERS.⁠✧

(✿⁠)Carlos Oliveira yandere and Leon Kennedy yandere sugar daddys(✿⁠)

Au: reader universitary.

Fem reader.

You were just a college student, young, with a pretty decent economy.That's what you thought until paying for the university where you study was more expensive every day, it was a lot of rent, exams, classes, dormitories and a lot of shit that you didn't even know you had to pay. You were lying in your bed in the middle of the night, you were on your computer trying to find a way to make money,you had your hair in a messy bun, a pair of shorts and a big shirt like pajamas.You were searching everywhere, posts, requests, advertisements, but they all asked for experience of up to at least 10 years,This was ridiculous and you were very stressed.It got to the point where you just clicked on anything in the hope that you could work to keep up with the payments.

"click!"

One page of...Sugar daddies..? Okay, you definitely didn't expect to get this far, you scanned the page, was this really the only way out?You knew that if you didn't get money you couldn't continue studying, you bit your lip thoughtfully, you scrolled through the profiles, until you found one that caught your attention. Apparently they were 2 adult men. In the photo there was a man of approximately 37 years old. Blonde, with short hair,Blue eyes like the ocean, a marked jaw and a look... that you didn't know how to describe, but there was something about it. And the other man,approximately 38 years old, somewhat tan skin, beard and messy black hair, Compared to the blonde man he looked more flirtatious.

Carlos Oliveira and

Leon Scott Kennedy.

You were even more surprised when the descriptions were based on the fact that the blonde-haired man, Leon Kennedy, was a survivor of Raccon City and serves the government, and the other, Carlos Oliveira, an Umbrella mercenary with a troubled past.

"These guys must make millions" You think.You checked the description again, they don't ask for a specific requirement, what if...? No! You should to find a decent job! You had an argument in your head with yourself.

"hell, well, I'm just going to post a photo and that's it. Let's see what happens." Little did you know that that day you would awaken something deep inside 2 men on that app.

You stood in the mirror of the room, you changed a little for the photo, you changed into a somewhat short black dress, tennis shoes and some natural makeup, and you posted them on the website, you changed again and you simply went to sleep without having much expectations.

The morning was rainy, you sighed as you looked out the window of your college dorm,You did the same routine, shower and eat breakfast, you walk to the campus while you couldn't help but think about tuition. Time was running out and you had to pay for it to continue studying, while you walked you took out your phone to try to distract yourself, a notification from that sugar daddy page, You were surprised when the same profile you saw yesterday added a heart to the photo you had uploaded of yourself.Accompanied with the message of that Carlos Oliveira.

"Hey sweet thing, Do you mind if we talk a little?"

From that day on you had conversations with that Carlos Oliveira, later you also started talking to Leon Kennedy, anyway they were the 2 guys in the profile on that page,You found them very pleasant, since instead of jumping to the obscene part they talked with you, the conversations were enjoyable that you even forgot that they were on a sugar daddy page, until one day, on Friday, when you were leaving the university, You saw a luxurious car in the parking lot, you ignored him until you heard your name from that car. Was it Leon Kennedy?!, oh yeah, you forgot you had shared your problem with money with them via chat, you definitely didn't expect them to take it seriously. You approached the car nervously...

"hello y/n, How nice to be able to see you in person, I'm Leon Kennedy, if you remember?"

"hello Leon,I didn't expect to see you here..." "see us" You heard a voice in the back seat, Carlos Oliveira looking at you with a flirtatious smile, as he got out of the car to help you with your backpack, he opens the door so you can go in the passenger seat,but not before giving you a big bear hug that almost left you breathless. "Get in, don't be shy" Leon says with a slight smile. You sat in the passenger seat, nervous, Leon noticed this and gave you a small reassuring smile. They had a conversation with you, they agreed to help you pay for college, which you thanked them for and you felt relieved, Of course, you obviously knew what kind of page you met them on, but you had no choice but to agree to be "they sugar baby."

They treated you very well, you spent time in their luxurious house, Of course, you noticed that every time you talked to a classmate at the university they ended up moving away or in the worst cases disappearing, this scared you so you looked for comfort in them. They loved this, you were so naive, young and innocent, They always pampered you with the best gifts, little by little you spent more time at their house than in yours,and they always found an excuse to make you spend the night with them for weeks or even a month, they were very sweet but it was strange how everyone avoided talking to you if they saw you with them, also overprotective measures,They insisted that you give them your exact location every time you went to university, normal things like knowing when you left, until strangely sending you a message at the exact time you left each class. You knew this was getting out of control, but they were 2 adult men, tall, and experienced in weapons and combat, You know they would never hurt you, but this gave you chills, just as they always liked to be around you, You always had eyes on you, an arm on your hip or your waist. Leon was very protective, he was the one who noticed those overprotection tendencies the most. On the other hand, Carlos was more of a possessive person, as he joked that you were going to be his only one. But they were both equally obsessed.

One of those days you were about to leave the house because it was time to go to university, you felt hands on you, Leon says with his deep voice. "Where are you going, my sweet girl?"

"Leon, it's late, I need to run to the university -" "Why don't you stay a little longer? You've worked hard, rest a little with us." Says leon softly but with that overprotective tone as he hugs you with his tall and imposing figure behind you. His eyes soften"but"- You couldn't finish why he carried you towards the kitchen where Carlos was making breakfast, "doll, Leon is right, you should stay a little longer." Carlos says while cooking and the delicious smell of waffles fills the room. "Look, I really appreciate what You two have done for me but I can't continue missing days at university-" You couldn't even finish why Leon put you on his lap, wrapping his muscular arms around you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. "Look doll, what's more important, the university or us?,We don't want that university to take our baby from us, right?" Carlos joked with his humor as always, but you felt that there was a hint of seriousness in that. Carlos serves breakfast and brings the fork closer to your mouth, His eyes gave warmth but obsession at the same time.

This was getting out of hand, but what Will You do...?

#yandere #obsession #leon kennedy #carlos oliveira #resident evil #sugar dating #age difference #age different relationships #x reader #oldermen #obsessive love #resident evil leon

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hyugaruma · 5 months

Note

hii, I have a request could you write something about Binzo x f reader

something where he'll be a bit awkward (cause thats how I think he should be haha)

anything you want Im sorry I dont have much ideas

I love your writing keep going !!

Meet-Cute (Binzo x Reader)

♡

re: you meet a strange guy on the subway… he’s not so bad

i wholeheartedly agree, i think binzo would be an awkward doof, but also a bit too honest for his own good. thanks for requesting!!

♡

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into you like some animal. You tried your best to ignore it, opting to pretend to scroll through your phone as he sat directly across from you on the subway. Every time you would look up to try to catch him in the act, his eyes would frantically dart away as if he hadn’t been staring you down for the past five minutes. Your better judgment should’ve told you to be worried about some strange man’s eyes being so keen on you, but something about the way he twiddled with his thumbs so anxiously, or haphazardly drew his hand through his messy hair, made you feel like he wasn’t a threat. Strange, sure, but threatening? You didn’t think so.

You glanced back up again, and again his eyes flickered away quickly. He looked wild, untamed, but somehow equally as shy and awkward. You watched as his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as he pretended to read the advertisement displayed above your head. You wondered if he even knew how to read, because his eyes certainly didn’t seem like they were actually focusing on any of the words.

You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket. If this was a game he wanted to play, you could play it too. So, you decided to stare back at him while he pretended to be preoccupied. You could tell by the way he was starting to fidget that he could feel your gaze on him, saw it from the corner of his eyes. It was making him nervous. You leaned forward, propping your elbow on your knee and letting your chin rest in your palm. Now you were making it obvious. Served him right for doing the same to you.

His leg started to bounce, and he turned his head to pretend to stare between the throngs of people standing in the subway carriage. A hand came up to nervously scratch at his neck. But you didn’t let up. You would make him acknowledge you. As you casually watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that despite his wildness, he was actually kind of cute. Like, in the way one might think a rabid squirrel is still cute despite its savage nature. You almost laughed at the thought, biting it back, but still allowing a smile to draw upon your lips.

It seemed he couldn’t take it anymore, your smile not managing to escape his attention, and he finally looked back to you, your gazes meeting. You gave a little wave. “I couldn’t help but notice that you keep staring at me,” you said. “I thought it was only fair that I should get the chance too.”

He swallowed thickly and tried clearing his throat. He opened his mouth once, decided against whatever he was going to say, and shut it. He contemplated, fingers wrenching at a frayed string from his jean jacket. He stared at you hard for another moment before finally speaking. “Oops.”

Oops? You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response. He was weird, that was for sure. A bit endearing, though. “What’s your name?”

He pointed to himself incredulously, like he had no idea why you would want to be bothered with knowing his name. “Me?” He asked.

You nodded, leaning back in your seat again and crossing your arms over your chest. The overhead comm system dinged as the subway screeched at the arrival of a stop, “Toarushi,” it announced. “Next stop: Nagata.” He didn’t move, and neither did you. The train doors closed, and it was off again.

“Ah, um…” he cleared his throat again. “Miyauchi. You can call me Binzo. If you want.”

“Binzo? Do you want me to call you Binzo?”

He nodded vigorously, some of his anxiety seemingly dissipating at the casual conversation. “Er… What’s yours?”

You responded with your name, and a wide, upbeat smile overtook his face. You felt your heart jump at the sight of it. Okay, maybe kind of cute had been an understatement. There was definitely something novel about him that seemed to draw you in. The next stop was yours, so you wanted to get in as much conversation with him as possible before it was time for you to depart. “So?”

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.

“So,” you repeated. “Why were you staring at me?”

His eyebrows shot up, as if it was an obvious question that shouldn’t have even necessitated his answering. Like he couldn’t imagine why you even needed to ask. “Because you’re pretty,” he answered, leaning forward slightly. “Is it okay? If I look at you?”

Your face suddenly became very hot. Now it was your turn to be the nervous mess. But, you hadn’t expected him to answer so bluntly. Usually guys would walk their way around things, try to not-so-subtly subtly let you know that they were attracted to you. But this? This was a new way of flirting, certainly. Though, it didn’t really feel like he was trying to flirt with you, more so just being strikingly honest. “Well, you can look at whatever you want to look at,” you said. “I can’t stop you.”

“I’ll stop if you want.” His earnest eyes bored into you now just as intensely as they had before.

You felt your palms start to sweat. “I don’t mind,” you replied, trying to be equally as honest but finding it hard to stay as unaffected as he was. You shifted in your seat, trying to somehow find the high ground in the conversation again. “Do you normally stare at people you think are pretty?”

“No,” he answered, crudely sticking a finger into his ear and giving it a dig. You almost snorted. “Not normally.”

“Just something you thought you’d try out?” You joked.

He looked at you seriously as he slowly stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. He looked like he was contemplating your question. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as pretty as you.”

This time you couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I appreciate it. You’re not so bad yourself.”

You took note of the almost indiscernible pinkness that erupted over his neck at your words. Now it was his turn to shift in his seat, his foot ticking like it so badly wanted to start tapping anxiously at the floor. You could tell he was having trouble with responding, so you decided to bail him out by continuing. “When’s your stop, by the way?”

“Uh… The one we just left?”

You gawked at him. “You mean, you missed your stop?”

A grin split his face again. “You were talking to me.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “It’ll come back around.”

You would have facepalmed if not for how endearing his blatant earnestness was. This guy was like no one you had ever met before. Though, you couldn’t help but to feel similarly to him. The blur of familiar buildings from beyond the subway windows told you that your stop was coming up. And yet, you didn’t want to stop talking to the oddball in front of you. “You didn’t have to miss your stop for me,” you said. “It’s not like we won’t talk again.”

“Huh?” He craned his head to the side, bewilderment on his face.

You smiled as you dug your phone out from your pocket, unlocking it and reaching across the aisle to hand it to him. His head remained cocked as he eyed your phone curiously. It was clear he hadn’t the slightest idea as to what you were insinuating. You rolled your eyes. “I’m asking for your number,” you clarified.

His eyes widened as they flashed back and forth between you and the phone. “Huh?” He said again.

You huffed. “So we can talk again? If you’d like?” The train began gradually screeching to a halt, having finally reached your stop. You started to pull your hand with the phone back as you spoke. “But, if you’re not interested—“

Just as the words started leaving your mouth, Binzo’s hand shot out and snatched your phone from yours with such an excitable ferocity that it almost startled you. “Yes!” He blurted, like he was afraid you’d change your mind. He started childishly one-finger tapping at your phone to put his number in, intense concentration on his face. “I didn’t think you’d be interested, is all,” he quietly muttered, more so to himself than anything, but the words still reached your ears.

The subway came to a stop as he finished putting his number in your phone, handing it back your way. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hand shook slightly. Purposefully, you grazed your fingers against his palm as you took the phone from him. He dazedly looked down at his hand where you had touched him.

You laughed as you stood up, his gaze snapping back up to meet yours. The subway doors opened with a shrill squeak, as if announcing your departure. You sent Binzo a soft smile and a wink, making him go pink again. Oh, you could get used to this. “I am very interested,” you said over your shoulder, crossing the threshold to exit. “See you next time. It’s a date.”

The doors closed, just in time for you to hear Binzo’s voice echo from inside. “Huh?!”

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aflame4goinghome · 7 months

Text

‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’

d.r.w. x reader

summary: on your day off, you come across a handsome stranger at the park, reading a book. some force seems to gravitate you toward him, something that you cannot explain or control. perhaps fate?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: just some adorable meet-cute fluff for today, be prepared to be blushing and kicking your feet. smut may happen in part two if you guys enjoy this, so stay tuned xo

a/n: this idea came to me at 3 am while drifting off to sleep thinking about danny. i’m not much of a writer but i wanted to share the inspiration i had with you all. it's proofread but it might not be perfect. i hope that you enjoy it :)

You’re jolted awake by the sound of your blaring alarm clock, which was intentionally set that way in order to combat your bad habit of oversleeping. Choosing a job that required such early mornings was certainly not your preference, but it paid well and you actually quite enjoyed it. You never expected to find such joy in teaching, but starting to teach music lessons has become the best decision that you’ve ever made.

You had decided to move to Nashville 3 months ago from your hometown of Knoxville on the other side of the state, as it was still relatively close to home so you could easily go home for the holidays and visit your family. You stayed in your hometown to go to college there after high school, so these last few months have been your first experience with living on your own.

When you first moved here, you had picked up a waitressing job to pay your rent while you looked for more long-term jobs. Given that you had a bachelor’s degree in music theory, you knew that it wouldn’t be very hard to find a job that suited you in Nashville. This proved to be true, as you had found a flyer in a local coffee shop two weeks ago advertising that a music center close to your apartment was hiring a full-time guitar instructor.

Today, however, you actually got to sleep in. It’s finally the weekend and you can’t wait to finally relax and get some things done after a long first week at your new job. They had you teaching lessons from 9 am to 5 pm every day, Monday through Friday, with an hour lunch break halfway through. That isn’t typically seen as a very difficult shift, but this is the longest workday that you’ve ever had, given that you’ve only just graduated from college this past May.

You feel grateful for the opportunity to gain more work experience in your field, but you can’t deny that it’s been an exhausting first week. You plan to use your weekend off to get your errands done and have some much-deserved downtime.

You roll out of bed after scrolling on social media for a while and finally start to get ready for your day. You take a quick shower, brush your teeth, put on some makeup to make it look like you didn’t just wake up, and then tie your back into a long braid, leaving some front pieces out to frame your face. You return to your bedroom and change into some baggy jeans and a t-shirt, throw on your high-top Chuck Taylors, grab your keys, and head out for the day.

Early autumn in Nashville has proven to still be on the warmer side, but it’s just started to cool down a bit with a nice fall breeze, so you’ve been able to bring out a bit of a cozier wardrobe lately. Fall is your favorite season and you plan to take full advantage of your weekend off by spending it outside.

Your first stop for the day is your favorite coffee shop in Nashville, a little locally-owned café in Midtown. You say hello to your favorite barista and order a hot dirty chai and a chocolate croissant. You sit down at your favorite table outside and enjoy the surroundings and your coffee. After you’re finished, you decide that it’s such a nice day that it wouldn’t hurt to delay your errands in favor of a nice walk through Centennial Park. The wind is blowing lightly and it’s actually quite cool outside, so you stop by your car to grab your cardigan before heading into the park.

You walk up to the park and start walking down a beautiful, winding trail past the small lake. The wind is still blowing subtly, making tiny waves along the surface of the water. You continue, taking a deep breath as you smile to yourself about how lovely the atmosphere is.

As you approach a fork in the path and take the one on the right, you pass a small patch of grass where you find a man lounging underneath a large oak tree. He has laid out a blanket and is lying down on his side, holding himself up with one arm while reading a book.

The man is seemingly tall, which you can tell even while he is lying down just by looking at his long legs and torso. He has dark, shoulder-length curly hair and deep chestnut eyes. He’s wearing a tight, mock-neck tee and dark black jeans with rips on the knees, paired with a simple small chain around his neck and a pair of Nike blazers. You can’t help but find yourself staying to watch him read for a moment. You see him smile as something in his book makes him laugh to himself.

It feels as if something is pulling you toward him, some unknown force making you unable to look away or continue on your path. You’re unsure of what it is, but you decide that you should act on it. As you start to approach him, he notices your presence and looks up at you. He studies you for a few seconds as you near closer to him.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. “Hi,” you reply. You just look at him for a moment, unsure of what to say next that will justify your approaching him, before asking, “What are you reading?” His face lights up at the question like he had been waiting for someone to ask. It seems to be something that he’s passionate about, which interests you.

He slides his bookmark inside onto the page that he was reading, closes the book, and turns the cover toward you to show it to you. “It’s ‘As You Like It,” he says, looking up at you as you tower above him just a few feet away. “Ah, Shakespeare…” you answer awkwardly, looking down as your eyes move from him to the empty spot on the blanket next to him, “May I sit?” He nods, grinning and looking at you with a look that you can’t quite decipher.

You sit cross-legged on the blanket across from him and smile back at him. “Danny,” he says, reaching out his hand to shake yours. You take his hand and answer. “Y/N,” you reply. “I read that one not long ago,” you continue, “I really enjoyed it. The love that those two share is different from many other plays of his. I like that about it.”

“Yeah! That’s what I like about it too. There are so many plays about love at first sight but this one is different. Most of his plays portray it as only physical attraction that causes love at first sight, but Orlando’s love for Rosalind is so much more than that.” His smile has grown now, happy to be talking to someone who understands his love for this type of literature. He continues, saying “There’s a lot of plays that involve disguising oneself as the opposite sex, but in this play, it proves that their connection goes beyond the idea of physical appearance. Orlando bonds with Rosalind even when she is disguised as Ganymede because he loves more than just her beauty.” You nod your head, agreeing with him.

“What act are you in now?” you ask. “Act Three,” he says, opening the book back up and handing it to you to show you his place. “Oh, this is when it starts to get good! This is my favorite part of the play, in Act Three Scene Two.” You turn back a few pages to find the excerpt that you love, pointing to it and reading it aloud to him:

Nature presently distilled Helen’s cheek, but not her heart; Cleopatra’s majesty; Atalanta’s better part; Sad Lucretia’s modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts by heavenly synod was devised; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, to have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, and I to live and die her slave.

After you finish, you look up from the book to find Danny’s eyes trained on you. You feel your cheeks flush and you know that you must be a shade of pink by now. You continue, trying not to let it get to you, saying “Orlando’s poems contain so much more meaning than any other confessions of love in other plays, in my opinion. He feels as though God himself crafted Rosalind with the best features a woman could possess, not only beauty but also a pure heart. He believes that fate has brought them together, that he is destined to be with her and will do anything for her.”

He nods in agreement and chimes in, asking “Do you believe in that kind of stuff? Fate? Destiny?” while gazing at you, looking like he’s trying to read your mind. He doesn’t need to, though. You feel compelled to be open with him, although you’re unsure why. He’s a stranger, whom you’ve just not long ago, but something makes you want to talk to him for hours.

You gaze down at your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers to distract yourself from how nervous you suddenly feel. “Yeah, I think so. I try to be in tune with the universe and its intentions for me as much as I can. If I feel like it’s trying to tell me something, I’ll always listen to it.” You pause for a moment before deciding to follow through with your next thought. “That’s kind of why I’m here, actually,” you say, glancing up from your lap to look at him.

He looks slightly confused by this answer, so you continue, saying “I was just walking through the park when I saw you sitting here and, I’m not sure why, but something made me feel like I had to approach you. It was like I was led here for a reason or something like that. I know that might sound crazy…,” feeling slightly embarrassed by your confession. “No! No, not at all! I understand what you mean. I had this feeling in my chest from the second you walked up to me. Seeing you felt almost natural. Like I already knew you somehow, but I didn’t,” he reassures you. The idea still perplexed you, however. You’ve trusted the universe every time before, but you still can’t place why it wanted you to come and talk to Danny.

“Do you?” you ask, meeting his eyes with yours, “Y’know, believe in fate and all that stuff?” He smiles, “Yes, I do. I like the idea of being able to trust that there’s someone out there that’s meant for me. It might be a bit silly or naïve, but it’s comforting for me. I think that when you find that person, you just… know.”

There’s some comfortable silence for a moment as you start to study his face. Danny truly was beautiful. His face was sun-kissed, his cheeks peppered with freckles, and a smile that could brighten up a whole room. You’re lost in thought as he breaks the silence. “What do you think the reason is?” he asks, slightly bashfully. “Why do you think the universe pulled you over to me?” He looks at you longingly, as though your answer will be life or death. You’re not sure what to say, but you try to answer him, nonetheless.

“I’m not sure,” you start. “I think that’s for us to decide. Fate is a force that holds us all together, but it can’t answer everything. I do know that I’m really happy I listened… What do you think?” You blush slightly after you finish and then look at him, waiting for his answer. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but you have a feeling of hope in your chest.

“I think…” he says, tucking some of your hair that’s fallen out of your braid behind your ear, “that the universe decided to introduce me to an intelligent and breathtakingly beautiful girl.” He brings his hand down from your hair and places his hand on your knee, stroking his thumb ever so slightly intermittently. “And I think that I’d be an idiot to not take that as some sort of sign.”

You look up at him and smile, feeling flattered by his honesty. You place your hand on top of his, in the same spot on your knee. “I think so too,” you say. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his mouth, softly kissing your knuckles. You sit there in silence once again, with an aura of contentment filling it.

He speaks again, still holding your hand in his. “This really made my day, in more ways than one. I’ve never had anyone to talk about Shakespeare with before. As much as I love my friends and enjoy talking to them about our common interests, like music, they all think that Shakespeare is boring. But Sam hasn’t opened a single book since we graduated high school, Josh only reads books on meditation, and all Jake ever wants to read is pirate novels, so what the hell do they know anyway?” he says, laughing to himself about the joke he just made. His laughter makes you smile wide.

“Well, I’m glad I could help. It’s been great talking to you. I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t really made any friends since moving here three months ago, so this felt nice. Since July, the only people I’ve talked to are the barista at the coffee shop down the road, my mailman, and my mom on Facetime.” You laugh to yourself, realizing how pathetic that might sound after saying it out loud.

He doesn’t care, though, and says “Hey, that’s okay! If I hadn’t moved here with my buddies, I’m sure it would’ve taken me a while to make some friends too. I lucked out there. You just have to put yourself out there, like you did today. Now you can say that you have one friend in Nashville.” This made you feel a bit better.

“So, friend, tell me about yourself. What brought you to Nashville?” he asks. You smile at the way he says “friend;” his charm is certainly not lost on you. You’re sitting closer now, unintentionally. Ever since Danny had made the first move to touch you, all bets were off and you practically melted into his touch.

Your knees fell on top of his legs as he held your hand, rubbing slow circles on the top of it. “Well, I just graduated from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville this past May. I studied music theory, so I thought that Nashville would be the perfect place for me. So far, it seems like it is. So I think I’m finally starting to find my way.” He smiles at you; it seems like something you said struck a chord with him.

“A music lover? Another thing we seem to have in common. Do you play any instruments?” he asks. “Yeah, I play guitar the most, I just started a job teaching guitar lessons to kids. I also sometimes play piano, but I’m not as good at it,” you laugh. He replies, “That’s fantastic. I play guitar too, but I mostly stick to the drums. I can play a bit of piano as well, but not nearly as well as my best friend Sam. He’s a fucking prodigy.” He smiles at that statement; he clearly admires his best friend a lot. “We’ll have to take more about guitar, then. I’d love to show you my baby,” you say with a smile. “How about you, Mr. Mystery? What are you doing in Nashville?”

“Well, I grew up in Michigan, not far from Detroit. I met my friends while in school: Sam, Josh, and Jake. They’re brothers, Josh and Jake are twins, two years older than me, and Sam and I were in the same year. Sam has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. They’re all practically brothers to me,” he says. You can tell how much he cares for them by the way he talks about them, making you want to meet them someday.

“They always liked to make music, especially Jake, but one day in high school they asked me to play the drums in their band. I really didn’t think we would take off the way we did, but somehow our local gigs became bigger ones, then they turned into opening gigs, our EP won a Grammy and the rest is history. We stayed in Michigan for a while and we tried LA, but a few years ago we decided on Nash and we’ve been here ever since.”

You’re completely in awe. What are the chances that you’d stumble upon a handsome rockstar while on your walk through the park? It really shouldn’t surprise you; now that you think about it, he very much gave off the cool rockstar vibe. “So, what, are you like, famous?” you say with a smirk, teasing him a bit. You can tell that the confession made him nervous, unsure of what you might think of him after finding out what he does for a living.

“Maybe I am,” he answers, dripping in charm once again. “Well, rockstar, if you’re so famous, then what are you doing here, reading Shakespeare in a park and talking to a nobody like me on a Saturday afternoon?” This makes him laugh, which was your goal. Despite only having just met him, you want him to feel comfortable with you. “We’re on a break in our tour right now before our European leg, so I’m just trying to enjoy the downtime while I still can,” he explains. There’s some comfortable silence once again.

“Do you wanna know my favorite line from As You Like It?” Danny asks. You nod, and he continues. “Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” He looks at you with what you think is a spark of desire in his eyes, though you shake that thought off immediately. You giggle and ask, “And why is that?”

“Because it reinforces the idea of fate. She’s saying that the truest kind of love is love at first sight. And I think I’m starting to understand why,” he says, leaning in toward you a little more and donning a smirk that makes you feel like you could just melt into a puddle right there. “Yeah, I think I understand too…” you reply.

He looks into your eyes and you stare back into the glow of his, almost amber in the light of the sun. I could stay here forever, you think to yourself. He shifts his gaze from your eyes down to your lips, then returns his eyes to you and asks, “Can I kiss you?” You nod and his hand cups your cheek, finally leaning in to close the space between you.

His lips are soft and warm, making you feel safe. The kiss is soft at first, you can feel the amount of love and kindness that his soul emits as if he’s passing it over to you and soothing any anxiety you might feel. You place your hand on the back of his head, deepening the kiss. You can feel the lust and passion flowing out of him through you, making you start to feel slightly light-headed. It was unlike any kiss you’d ever experienced before.

Danny pulls away from the kiss and caresses your cheek, holding his forehead to yours. “You are… everything I’ve been waiting for,” he says. You smile, running your fingers through his curls. You’re in awe of how beautiful he truly is. Destiny had been kind to you, it seems. You can already feel as though you were fated to meet here, today.

He looks up to see the impending sunset and checks his watch, realizing that the two of you had been sitting there talking much longer than he had thought. You watch him as he stands up and reaches out his hand to help you up. He picks up the blanket and folds it over itself a few times then tucks it under his arm.

He cups both of your cheeks with his hands and places another small peck on your lips, smiles, and says “Can I take you out? Tonight?” You laugh, “Hmm, let me check my schedule…” you joke, knowing that you have nowhere else to be, but still wanting to keep him on his toes. I guess my errands will have to wait, you think to yourself.

You both start to head out of the park toward where you parked your car, as he takes your hand in his and squeezes it tight. “Oh, shut up, you know you want nothing more than for me to take you out to dinner,” he jokes back, laughing. “You might be right,” you say, “And I might want more than just dinner…” You look up at him with a smirk, and he looks back at you with that look of lust that you’ve already seemed to make yourself familiar with.

It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?

The End

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #greta van fluff #danny wagner #danny gvf #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner gvf #dannywagner #Spotify

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

Text

Hear My Heart

AN: everyone deserves to be loved no matter what

Synopsis: You've had a disability since you were eight years old and never knew if true love would ever exist for you until you met someone named Jack

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Hearing Impaired!Reader

Requested by: my ✨️ anon 💖

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You were startled by your manager Denise tapping you on your shoulder as you were trying to make sure everything was ready for the night for whoever the guest performer was. You didn't bother to look at the flier or any of the advertisements, but everyone seemed to be excited. Scrolling through your phone an hour ago, you saw that the performer would be Jack Harlow and he would have a mini residency for the next three weeks in Miami.

You were excited and didn’t stop talking your ear off to your best friend McKenzie ever since you found out.

Of course she looked at you dumbfounded but remembered that you had been living under a rock for the past two months.

As you looked up, Denise's mouth was moving, but when you didn't respond, she immediately rolled her eyes and that's when you turned your hearing aids back up to hear her.

"Pumpkin! You have got to stop turning down your hearing aids!" She exclaimed while throwing her hands up in the air.

This wasn’t the first time and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

"It was getting too loud." You said while shrugging as you looked around at multiple people who were also setting up for the night.

"You do realize you work in a nightclub, correct? There's bound to be some type of noise. And what if there is an emergency when you do that?!"

Denise was your Godmother and your mother's best friend and the two of you were inseparable just how they were when they were younger. Your parents were hesitant about you leaving home in Georgia and living on your own in a completely different state and environment and only allowed you to go if you lived near your Godparents and worked at their nightclub.

The parents were not taking no for an answer

You knew to be careful, you felt like your hearing was fading by the day and soon you wouldn't be able to hear at all.

Doesn't really work out well for people who dream of being a performer.

So this is the closest that you would get to making that a reality.

You were a local favorite who would perform covers as well as original songs every Friday. Everyone knew you and loved your voice and it took your mind off of the reality of what was to come. It had been awhile since you did it, but was thinking of getting back into it soon.

Besides, you didn’t know how much longer that you would be able to hear.

But day in and day out, you would stress your Godmother out to no end and she never let you forget it.

"I'll keep them turned on for the rest of the night to make you happy." You answered while being sarcastic.

"Y/N, I'm serious. If something happens to you, your parents will kill me."

"I'm 23 years old and I am tired of being treated like this little fragile thing! I'm an adult and I have a disability that I have had to adapt to and be okay with since I was eight years old but I'm NOT helpless!" You said placing the last box on the table and making your way out of the room with Denise calling after you.

"Pumpkin! Baby girl! I didn't mean to upset you… I just…"

You quickly made your way to the bathroom and dabbed at the corners of your eyes to catch the tears in order for you not to mess up your makeup.

This was the argument that would happen between your parents and now your Godmother at least once a month. You understood why they were so protective over you, but you almost felt as if they were suffocating you.

You thought the move to Miami would be refreshing, but you were quickly growing tired of it and was deciding if you were going to pack up in the middle of the night and disappear.

All four of them would have the FBI looking for you within an hour.

Your Godfather David was a bit more lenient and understanding when it came to you and that had been the case ever since you were little.

When you came up with an idea of wanting to try something new, he always had to talk them into letting you do it.

You just sighed while fixing your dress and looking at your phone.

It was now getting close to 10 pm and people would be arriving soon since Jack was due to perform around 11.

The only highlight about your night was that you got to see Jack Harlow and then you would be able to go home and stuff your face with pizza rolls.

Until then, you would just hang out at the bar with your best friend McKenzie who you had convinced to make the move with you.

The two of you had known each other since you were six years old when you shared your 64 pack of Crayola crayons with her and wouldn’t let anyone else touch them.

Inseparable ever since.

She helped you through your diagnosis when the two of you were only eight even if she couldn’t quite understand what was happening and never left your side.

You made your way over to the bar to see her already starting to mix drinks for eager customers. After she had finished serving them, she turned to you.

“What’ll it be, bestie?”

“Anything to take the edge off of wanting to jump off the nearest cliff.”

“Pumpkin, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“But it is Kenzie! They never allow me to do anything and I’m just so tired of it.”

“I get it, but they want to protect you.”

“I can be protected without being smothered and I can literally feel her eyes in the back of my head right now.”

Sure enough when Mckenzie looked up she saw Denise looking at you with concern in her eyes.

“They love you and only want the best for you just like I do. I mean I did move to Miami for you.”

“You moved to Miami to be close to the beach and find you a girlfriend so please stop lying and telling me that you did this for me because I will turn down my hearing aids and it’ll be like you’re talking to a wall.”

“PUMPKIN! DO NOT START!”

“Too late.”

Mckenzie just rolled her eyes before setting an amaretto sour in front of you which you slowly started to sip on.

“Appreciate you.”

“Bitch, where the fuck is my tip?”

“Up my ass, now give me another one.”

All McKenzie did was raise her eyebrows at you.

“PLEASE.”

“Thought so.”

Just then it was announced that Jack would be coming to the stage and you decided to turn up your hearing aids a little bit higher and McKenzie noticed.

“Oh, so you can turn them on for Jack, but not your best friend?”

“You started to annoy me so I turned them down. Jack doesn’t annoy me.”

“I’m going to kick your ass once we leave here.”

It was the middle of Jack’s performance when McKenzie had nudged you and you turned to look over at her.

“Hmm?”

“He’s staring at you.”

“Who?!”

“Jack is.”

“No he isn’t…. Wait…. Is he really? Is there something on my face? Did one of my lashes fall off? Is there something in my teeth?”

“No, you look gorgeous as always. I just feel like he’s been looking an awful lot in your direction during his set, truth be told since he hit the stage.”

“McKenzie, did you smoke without me today? Because it’s giving delusional.”

“No, because I didn’t buy anymore since we smoked it all last night and it’s true!”

“Hmm.”

“But you’re off limits anyway.”

“Says who?!”

“Says me. No one is going to get to you without those two approving anyway and he’s doing a residency here?”

“Kenzie, I’m a grown ass woman who is able to make decisions for herself.”

“I completely agree so this leads into my next question, how much do you want to bet that by the end of the night he’ll ask you for your number?”

“Kenzieeeee!”

“What?! Come on 50 dollars! You can bet me 50 dollars!”

Jack’s set had been over for about fifteen minutes when you suddenly felt someone sit down next to you at the bar. You didn’t pay it any mind until McKenzie looked up from wiping down the bar and her eyes went wide.

You looked at her dumbfounded until you heard his voice and immediately stopped your movements.

“What are you drinking, pretty girl? Mind if I buy you another one?” You turned to see that Jack was in fact talking to you and you felt your heart speed up at a ridiculous rate.

“Um, amaretto sour.”

He simply handed McKenzie his card while not breaking eye contact with you.

“So does the pretty girl have a pretty name to go along with it?” Jack curiously asked you and you were doing everything in your power in order not to look crazy in front of him. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack at this very moment.

“Y/N. But my friends call me Pumpkin.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Jack.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Couldn’t help but to notice you over here during my set and I wanted to get to know you better if you’d let me. Since only your friends call you pumpkin, I want to be able to call you that too and maybe more.”

McKenzie was watching this entire exchange unfold and she was hoping that you would say yes while trying to also not mess up anyone’s drink order.

Your last relationship didn’t end well and you had just about turned into a hermit ever since which bothered her to no end. As much as she wanted for you to get back out there, you refused.

“I’d like that.”

The two of you exchanged numbers with Jack promising to text you before the night was over.

You turned back to McKenzie and she eagerly smiled at you and slid your drink towards you.

“You owe me 50 dollars.”

You and Jack had been getting to know each other just about every day he didn’t have a show and it was a breath of fresh air spending time with him. It was almost as if the two of you didn’t just meet, but had known each other for years.

The two of you were now at your favorite hole in the wall taco place and you put your curly hair up into a ponytail so that nothing would get into your food.

This was the first time that you thought Jack had noticed your hearing aids and you could tell he was looking over at you with curiosity as you took a nacho into your mouth.

“So, are you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?” Jack responded while stealing one of your nachos.

You simply pointed to your hearing aids and Jack simply shrugged.

“You’ve been staring at me since I put my hair up. Aren’t you curious? It seems like everyone is when they see me with them.”

“I'm staring at you because I think you're pretty and why does it matter? I figured you would tell me when you were ready to and besides I saw that you had them when we met. Still didn’t stop me from wanting to talk to you and it doesn’t now.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I’m very observant. Especially when it comes to things that I like.”

“Oh, and I’m guessing you like me?” You asked while fluttering your eyelashes and Jack couldn’t help but to do anything but laugh.

“This is our fourth date, isn’t it? That should tell you something.”

“It is. And good because I like you too.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you continued to talk.

“I started losing my hearing when I was eight. Different doctors, different specialists, no one could do anything about it. And they told me it would get to a point where I wouldn’t be able to hear at all anymore. Kind of sucks for a girl who wanted to be an entertainer, but my parents set me up with learning sign language then because eventually I’ll have to use it. I do that as a side hustle, signing for people at different events around Miami.”

“Thank you for telling me that, I know that it has to be difficult at times.”

“It is, but I have an advantage that not a lot of other people have. When I’m tired of listening to the outside world, I simply turn them off.”

“If we ever get into a disagreement, I take it that would be your go to strategy?”

“No, I think you’re too cute for me to stay mad at. My parents on the other hand are a different story.”

—

“So, your new girlfriend is deaf?” Urban asked while looking over at his best friend.

“No, she can hear but she told me it almost sounds like background noise so she can't distinguish who's talking, but she wears hearing aids to help. But doctors have told her that eventually it will get to the point where she won’t be able to hear anymore. And she’s not my girlfriend, not yet anyway.”

“I definitely noticed that first night how you kept staring at her. And the two of you have gone on like six dates, what’s the hold up? Does she know sign language?”

“Just want to take my time and get to know her and she does.”

“Hmm, I wonder if she can teach me how to cuss people out.”

“URB!”

“What?! What I say?”

“You wonder if who can teach you how to do what?” Neelam asked while coming into the room and looking at the two of them.

“Jack’s new girlfriend is deaf and knows sign language. While partially deaf I should say. You know short girl with the curly hair who he has now been spending more time with than me.”

“Damn, Urb just throw the whole damn tree at this point with all the shade.” Jack said while laughing.

“Urban, you are already a menace, she doesn’t need to teach you anything. And don’t you think Jack gets tired of looking at your ass all the time?”

“WHY NOT?! AND NO I’M NOT! AND NO HE DOESN’T!” Urban exclaimed and Jack stifled a laugh.

“Knowing her she would probably do it too. She already turns down her hearing aids if her parents start to get on her nerves, godparents included.” Jack added while shaking his head.

“So, when am I properly going to meet her? Her godparents own the club, right?”

“They do and you can meet her tonight. She’s just about always there.”

“Her friend she’s always with is cute too.”

“And her friend is also a lesbian so keep it moving.”

“Oh, I respect it. Does she have any more friends?”

“I’ll ask.”

Jack sent you a quick text to let you know that Urban wanted to meet you. He figured that he would start with him first before introducing you to the rest of PG.

Curly Haired White Boy- Y/N, my best friend wants to meet you tonight

You- if it’s Urban tell him my requirements are for him to bring a blunt to share

Curly Haired White Boy- Why am I not surprised? Lmaooo

You- I mean that’s the only proper way to meet someone right?

Curly Haired White Boy- Since when?!?

You- idk since forever?

Curly Haired White Boy- I’ll be sure to tell him. He’s excited to meet you. Also wanted to know if you had any other friends besides McKenzie?

You- I have associates. Closest one is Camille, however she has baby mama drama. The other is Alexis. She sells drugs.

Curly Haired White Boy- Wait, what!?

You- She was with this girl, they got married, had a kid with a sperm donor that she carried, now going through a divorce when she realized she wanted her wife’s boss who is a guy. Oh and he’s the actual baby daddy because she cheated. Sperm donor my ass. I would never subject your best friend to that dumpster fire on wheels. Oh and Alexis is a pharmacy tech. She sells drugs the legal way. He might like her. I’ll put in a word for him.

Curly Haired White Boy- Oh, um okay then

You- Can’t wait to see you tonight, I’ll be sure to wear your favorite color

Curly Haired White Boy- Can’t wait to see you

You got to the club a little later than the time you told Jack that you would be here, but when you were finally in his line of sight, he made his way over to you with who you assumed was Urban in tow.

And as promised, you were wearing one of your newest dresses that happened to be a deep purple along with a simple pair of black heels.

“Hey babe. You look gorgeous.” Jack greeted you as he leaned down to kiss you and you quickly hugged him.

“Hey, thank you, sorry I’m late, misplaced one of my hearing aids and it had actually fallen in the trash can in the bathroom and took me about 45 minutes to find so yeah but I’m here and oh you must be the infamous Urban that I hear so much about?”

“Wait, how did you lose them?” Jack asked while looking at you and you just shrugged.

“I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached. Kenzie yells at me all the time about it.”

“The one and only. He’s only told you good things, right?”

“Define good things.” You said as you raised your eyebrows before laughing.

“HEY! I did only tell you good things!”

“He did, Urban, you have nothing to worry about. But for now, I actually have to work as much as I don’t want to so head on over to V.I.P. and I’ll come find you later.”

“Okay, don’t work too hard.” Jack said as he leaned down to kiss you once more.

“I promise, I won’t. Besides, if they start to get on my nerves, I’ll just stay in V.I.P. with you the rest of the night.”

“BABE!”

“What?! They better be happy I don’t turn off my hearing aids.”

“You have got to stop doing that.”

—

You and Jack had now been together for one year and counting and you honestly could not have been happier.

Your parents as well as your godparents absolutely adored him and he was honestly the first boyfriend of yours that they actually liked. Which was surprising.

And his parents adored you right along with his younger brother Clay.

The long distance did get you sad sometimes, but it would instantly go out of the window when Jack would surprise you when he had small breaks in between appearances. He always told you that you were more than welcome to come with him any time you wanted and that you didn’t have to pay for anything.

This time, the two of you were laying in Jack’s king sized bed in his house that he just purchased in Louisville. You were convinced that the bed was going to swallow you whole or that you were going to get lost in it because it was so big.

No one told your boyfriend to be 6’3, but here we are.

“Baby girl?” Jack said as he leaned down to kiss your nose.

“Hmm?” You muttered while your eyes were still closed, but held onto Jack tighter. Your flight had gotten in extremely early in the morning and all you wanted to do was sleep. You had been on overdrive the last few days being at the club and also being an ASL interpreter for small events around Miami.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” You said while opening your eyes and looking at him.

“I want you to teach me sign language.”

“Really?” You asked excitedly while getting the biggest smile on your face.

"Well, yeah. I want to always be able to tell you I love you even if it isn't with my voice. I don’t want a day to go by that I’m not able to tell you how much you mean to me."

Your eyes immediately watered and you couldn’t do anything but eagerly nod your head yes.

“Of course I will and I love you too.”

“I just thought about how neither of us know how long you’ll still have your hearing and I want to be prepared.”’

“Thank you for thinking of me.” You quietly said as Jack had wiped away your tears.

“Always, a day never passes when I don’t.”

“I’ll go easy on you to start and then we’ll get into the more complicated things. We’ll start with the alphabet first.”

“Oh, and I should warn you, Urb wants you to teach him cuss words.”

“Shit, say less. But, why am I not surprised?” You said while laughing.

“Can you imagine? Me and Urb going back and forth and only you would know what we were saying?”

“That is about to be hilarious and I cannot wait. How much longer do we have until we go see my parents?”

“Yeah, the parents that love you more than their own biological child.”

“Stop being dramatic. I mean your mom did say she wishes she had a daughter and was very excited that I was dating her big headed son.”

“She did NOT say that last part!” Jack looked at you dumbfounded, but all you could do was laugh.

“How much you wanna bet!?”

“Anyway we have about three hours.”

“Oh, I have to start getting ready.”

“Babe? You need three hours to get ready?” Jack asked while pinching your cheek and you immediately swatted his hand away.

“Unless you want us to be late, I suggest that you unhand me.”

“Why do I have to unhand you when we could just save water?”

“Jackman, no funny business.”

“I don’t know what you mean, my love. What is this funny business that you speak of?”

“Knowing you we won’t meet them in three hours, but in six.” You responded while rolling your eyes.

“And? I don’t see the problem. Just let me put the tip in.”

“Bye, Jackman.” You said while turning away from him and then standing up from the bed.

“So? Is that a yes?”

“It’s ‘a you better come on before I change my mind’.”

“Shit, don’t have to tell me twice. Start the shower and do NOT have it so hot it’s like we’re at the gates of hell like you did last time.”

“Jackman, I will make you shower by yourself if you don’t shut up and stop complaining.”

“Babe, come onnnnn. You were lowkey trying to burn me.”

“I was NOT!”

“I beg to differ.”

Both of you were now sitting at the dinner table in Jack’s parents house along with Clay and you were excited because Maggie had told you that she bought a new red wine that she thought that you would like.

Brian just finished asking you how you liked Jack’s new house and you said that it needed a few splashes of color and that you would add your touch to it while Jack was rolling his eyes and you noticed Maggie eyeing you as you started to take a sip of your wine.

“Ma, why do you keep staring at Y/N like that?” Jack asked before laughing.

“Because there’s something different about her.”

“Different how? I changed my hair since the last time you saw me.” You asked as you continued to sip on your wine.

You would definitely be taking the bottle home and would thank Maggie for getting it for you.

“I noticed that when we talked on facetime the other day, not your hair. You’re pregnant.”

“WHAT?!” Jack exclaimed and you immediately got a confused look on your face while Clay simply looked between the two of you.

“No, I’m not.” You said unsure of yourself as you stopped drinking your wine and set the glass back down but not before pouring the rest into Clay’s glass since you were now nervous.

“Are you sure? The glow is definitely there that people talk about and I can see it. I also had a dream about fish last night. I don’t want to scare you, just a thought.”

That was when you tried to remember when your last period was and you were coming up short. You didn’t even want to look over at Jack at the moment.

“Sooo, yeah I’ll be back.” Jack said getting up from the table and grabbing his keys while you just sat there staring off into space.

“If you are, I’m glad it’s you that he got pregnant and not his ex-girlfriend because she was a piece of work.” Maggie tried to whisper to you, but of course Brian and Clay heard her.

“MAGGIE!” Brian exclaimed while looking at her but he just shrugged while Clay was laughing.

“What? I’m telling the truth!”

Curly Haired White Boy- Babe, I’m going to get a pregnancy test for you, I’ll be back

You- Um yeah good idea

Curly Haired White Boy- Don’t be scared baby girl, you have me and I’m not going anywhere

You- Love you big head

Curly Haired White Boy- Love you more

When Jack came back in fifteen minutes, you immediately ran to the bathroom to take the test while Jack was pacing outside the door.

“You’re going to put a hole in the floor if you don’t stop.” Clay said while not even looking at his older brother.

“Can you blame me?!”

“Yes, I can blame you. You were the one who knocked her up.”

“Cut the shit, Clay!”

“I was just saying!”

You had been in there for at least twenty minutes and as soon as Jack was about to knock on the door and see if you were okay, you opened it.

“Baby? What did it say?”

“Looks like we’re about to be somebody’s parents.”

It had been about two months since you found out you were pregnant and you really weren’t showing yet. At first you were excited, a little scared, but excited nonetheless and now reality was setting in.

Jack had asked you to move in with him and you quickly agreed and of course McKenzie moved to Kentucky right along with you.

Since apparently now her and Urban were a thing.

After she swore off men for the rest of her life, here she was.

She was convinced that wherever you went, she had to go too.

And you were not going to put up a fight about it either. It helped having her close to you and served as having a little piece of home.

You made sure to tell your parents as well as godparents what was happening when you had touched down in Kentucky when all of your things were fully moved into the house so they didn’t have anything to say about it or put up a fight.

What were they going to do? Come and get you to bring you back?

They just thought you were visiting Jack more often, but what you were really doing was moving in.

As of right now, the two of you were in London and Jack had just gotten finished one of his performances and you were in the bathroom doing your nightly routine in order to get ready for bed while Jack was in the bedroom pacing back and forth and debating whether he was going to ask you or not.

Ask you to marry him that is.

He had mentioned to Urban about three months ago about wanting to ask you and he told him to go for it knowing that you weren’t going to say no.

Now every time Urban saw you, he would look at your ring finger, notice it was bare, and then look at Jack and roll his eyes because he was taking so long.

The door was slightly ajar and he could see you so he figured he might as well get it over with before he talked himself out of it.

For the fourth time in the past week.

“Baby, I wanted to ask you something, but I just want you to listen for a minute. You came into my life when I least expected it and now that you’re in it I can’t see myself without you. When I first saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and I’ve been obsessed ever since. From the way you laugh, our shared love for pizza, the way you care about others, while also taking time to care for yourself and loving me through everything that has happened in the past year. I know that no matter what happens, you’ll always be by my side and that is all I could ever ask for. I just want to make this official and don’t want to wait any longer. So, Y/N Y/M/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

At this exact moment, Jack was down on one knee and you fully opened the door, saw the ring and immediately slammed the door while trying not to have a panic attack.

You figured this was a good time to turn your hearing aids back up.

“Baby!” Jack said while coming over to the door and trying to open it and failing.

“I… JACKMAN! Are you serious?!”

“Did you not have your hearing aids turned on!? YES I’M SERIOUS!”

“No! I took them out to clean them and I just put them back in!” You exclaimed a little upset because you had missed everything that he said.

“So, you didn’t hear ANY of that?!”

“No! But, you’re really serious?!”

“Yes, I’m serious! Baby, open the door!”

You did as you were told and opened it to see Jack staring down at you.

“No bullshit?” You asked as you could feel your eyes welling up with tears.

“No bullshit, I want to be able to call you my wife for real.”

“Like seriously?”

“Yes, baby girl. I’m serious for the third time and have been thinking about asking you for a while.”

“So you really love me?” You asked and Jack looked at you in disbelief.

“Y/N, I just asked you to marry me, did I not?”

“Oh, well I guess that’s true.”

“Baby, are you going to give me an answer? Low key panicking over here.”

“Well duh!”

“Duh what?!?”

“THAT I’LL MARRY YOU BIG HEAD!”

“Usually people say yes, not duh!” Jack exclaimed while you were still trying to make sense of everything.

“Well I’m not people! I’m Y/N!”

“What am I going to do with you?” Jack jokingly asked as he slipped the ring on your finger and all you could do was smile and admire it.

“Nothing, now because your ass is stuck with me!”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jack answered as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips.

“You just don’t know how much I love you. I never thought in a million years that this would be a reality for me.”

“And you just don’t know how much I love you too. I’m happy that you let your guard down with me and let me love you the way that you deserve.”

You finished putting your hair up and laid down next to Jack while you moved over to lay on his chest and he quickly embraced you.

“Your heartbeat calms me and I love laying on you and listening to it when my mind is running 1000 miles per hour.” You said and Jack leaned down to look at you.

“What are you thinking?”

“What if she’s deaf?” You quietly asked.

“So, what if she is? That isn’t going to make her any less perfect. She’ll be perfect because we made her.”

“I would never forgive myself for it. I want her to be able to experience all of the things that I couldn’t do.”

“Whatever happens, she is going to live a full life and we’re going to make sure of it. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“Easier said than done. I never saw myself becoming a parent so this has unlocked new fears for me.” You quietly confessed. Your biggest fear was passing on your disability to your offspring so you had it made up in your mind ever since you were fourteen that unless you found the person that you wanted to spend your life with, you weren’t about to have any kids.

Well, then Jack came into the picture.

“Of course we’re going to have them because she’s literally ours. That goes through every parent’s mind. But remember we’re a team and we’re doing this together.”

“I know. You’re right.” You were so excited when you saw the positive pregnancy test and now all of the fears that had been in the back of your mind are making themselves known.

“Still won’t make me love her or you any less so you can get that out of your mind right now because I know that’s what you’re thinking.” Jack said as he tilted your chin to make you look up at him.

“I can’t help it. I just…”

“I love you for making my life complete and now we're about to add our little girl to that."

“And no matter what happens, she’ll be perfect because like you said, she’s ours.”

It was around 3 in the morning when Jack woke you up by placing several kisses on your cheeks because you had to catch a flight to Sweden for the next show, you lazily got out of the comfortable bed and started to get ready.

“Come on, mamas. You can sleep on the plane.”

“Only if I get cuddles from you, otherwise, I’m not moving.”

“Babe, you know you can have all the cuddles you want and you know that you never have to ask.”

“Is this how it feels being with a morning person because this is downright ghetto. It is literally three in the morning.”

“Congratulations, you learned how to tell time.”

“I will kick your ass, Harlow. Watch it.”

“Hmm, you sure about that?”

“Better, yet, I’ll tell Maggie.”

Jack immediately stopped his movements to look over at you and all you did was smirk.

“That’s what I thought.”

As you were getting settled on the plane, Urban did a double take as he looked down at your finger.

“FUCKING FINALLY!”

“Urb, shut uppppp. It’s too early!” You exclaimed while burying your face deeper into Jack’s hoodie that you were wearing.

“So, he did it last night?!”

“Did what?” You asked, looking at him confused.

Urban gestured to your ring finger and all you did was smile and Jack came and sat next to you.

“I did it and she heard absolutely none of the speech I prepared beforehand because she took out her hearing aids and failed to tell me.”

“Damn.” Urban said as he grabbed your hand to look at your ring.

“At least your man has good taste. Or was it me?”

“Sorry about that. And Urb did you help him pick it out?”

“Urb helping was him asking Kenzie and then reporting back to me and she was sworn to secrecy.”

“I still get my credit though. I did help.”

“And then she proceeded to slam the door in my face because I startled her and I was on one knee with the ring when she fully opened the bathroom door.”

Urban busted out laughing while shaking his head.

“You scared me. Completely caught me off guard.”

“Then proceeded to ask me if I was serious and if I loved her multiple times even though I most definitely had just asked her to marry me.”

“I had to be sure! This is a big decision.”

“I told you she wasn’t going to say no.”

“But it took her almost fifteen minutes it seems like to give me an answer.”

“I wasn’t that long!”

“Speak for yourself! Had me up there sweating and panicking!”

“I’ll make it up to you later once I get some sleep.”

Once all of you had landed and gotten to the hotel, all you did was take a shower and hopped in the bed to get ready to go back to sleep and was whining that Jack had a few interviews and wouldn’t be able to lay down with you and that was when your notification for instagram went off.

1 New Message from BadGalRiRi

Hey, Y/N, I see that you’re a well known ASL interpreter around Miami and I would love to work alongside you for when I do the super bowl in February. You let me know and I can send over the setlist so we can get started.

You let out the most ear piercing scream known to man startling Jack and him looking over at you confused.

“Uh, baby? You okay over there?”

“NO! YES! NO! I DON’T KNOW!”

“I have no idea what that means so start explaining.”

All you did was shove your phone towards Jack so he could read the message and his eyes went wide.

“Not my baby being asked to perform at the super bowl with Rihanna. You better say yes.”

“I.. I don’t even know what to say.”

“YES OBVIOUSLY!”

“ I AM JACKMAN! I MEANT IN GENERAL!”

“I’m so so proud of you.” Jack said as he leaned over to kiss your temple.

“Oh….”

“Oh what?”

“I have to pick out my outfit and I’m about to be VERY pregnant come February.”

After you had responded to Rihanna, someone on her team had gotten in contact with you and sent over the setlist. It helped that you had about a month and a half to prepare and that you were a big fan and familiar with her music.

Every single time you practiced, Jack was just sitting there watching you in awe and the one time that you caught him, you couldn’t help but to get a startled look on your face.

“Yes, Jackman? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“So, I need a reason to be able to look at my girl now?”

“No.”

“I’m looking at you because I love you and admire you.”

“Cut it out before I start to cry. These hormones are no joke, sir.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“I know you are and I love you for that.”

“When are you actually going to run through the entire performance with her and everyone else?”

“A few days before the show. It helps that I already know all of her songs and that I know them well.”

“And I’m still struggling to learn the alphabet.”

“It takes time and it doesn’t come overnight, babe. You’ll get there.”

“Wait, babe, teach me how to sign bring that pussy over here.”

“JACKMAN THOMAS!”

“What?! I thought I’d ask since you’re teaching Urban cuss words!”

“Remind me why I said yes to marrying you again?”

“Don’t start!”

“You started it, I’m just the one finishing it!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Rihanna’s halftime performance had just ended and you couldn’t wait to take the heels that you were wearing off. You were only six months, but you felt as if you were about to pop any day now.

Jack had helped you down off of the platform that you were standing on and immediately hugged you and kissed the top of your head.

“You did amazing, baby. Very proud of you.”

“Thank you boo. I’m just glad it’s over so I can take these shoes off. And I’m proud of you too and your commercial. Even though Urban was a little traitor at the end.”

“HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“Did I lie?!”

“PUMPKIN, COME ON. ELTON JOHN THOUGH?! DO YOU BLAME ME?”

“No, you right though. I would have probably done the same thing.” You said as all of you walked back to the skybox that you had been sitting in before to enjoy the rest of the game.

“Babe?” You said as you grabbed his hand and he quickly looked down at you.

“What’s going on mamas?”

“You have about 7 minutes until your fiance turns into a different person because she’s hungry.”

“I offered to share my buffalo wings with you earlier, but you just wanted to sit in the corner and be cute and say no.”

“I didn’t want sauce on my dress!”

“I had the old bay ones you like too! They didn’t have sauce.”

“Urban, come get your best friend.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Both of you irk me to no end.”

For the next few weeks after the super bowl, of course they talked about Rihanna, but they were mentioning you every time you turned around.

You had lost count over how many times you were being tagged on instagram in posts highlighting little clips of your performances.

It was funny because a lot of your family had sent calls and text messages congratulating you on being pregnant and getting to sign at the super bowl since they didn’t know anything beforehand and you wanted to keep it as a surprise.

The latest headline had you smiling to no end and Jack was looking at you wondering what was going on.

Jack Harlow’s pregnant fiance Y/N Y/L/N makes her own mark at the Super Bowl being a sign language interpreter for Rihanna

“I know you aren’t looking at one of my dick pics since I haven’t sent you one in awhile so what’s got you smiling like that?”

“You are such a dumbass, you know that?” You said and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“But the difference is that I’m your dumbass.”

“Well… that’s true.”

You simply handed him your phone so that he could take a look at it and smiled at you when he finished reading it.

“But, are you going to teach me how to sign bring that pussy over here? That is the real question.”

“Jackman…..”

“YOU NEVER GAVE ME AN ANSWER!”

“Because you don’t need one!”

“I beg to differ. I’ll go on youtube.”

“Seriously?!” You exclaimed while looking over at him.

“Well my soon to be wife isn’t helping me!”

“I need to call Maggie and Brian and tell them to come and get their son because I am 100% done with you.”

“She probably doesn’t want me either.”

“Sucks to be you then, huh?”

“BABYYYYY!! Pleaseeee!”

“On one condition.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever and I mean EVER sign this shit out in public I will KILL YOU.”

“Fine right after I kill that pussy.”

All you did was sigh and shake your head.

“Lord, help me.”

The rest of your pregnancy went as smoothly as possible and after being in labor for a total of sixteen hours and wanting to kill Jack, she was finally here.

All ten fingers, all then toes.

Skylar Eloise Harlow

And just as the two of you predicted, she was perfect.

Both of you had curly hair and so did she, but Jack was convinced that she got her hair from him while you were convinced that she got it from you.

Of course in the back of your mind, you were still concerned about her hearing and the doctor had told you that she would be able to do the test when she was about a month old.

But you knew in the end that either way it went, you were happy because you would get to raise this little girl to be a badass just like her mother in every sense and to not let anyone tell her that she wasn’t able to do something.

“Can you believe we made her?” Jack quietly asked you as he was holding her.

“No, definitely not. Feels weird not being pregnant anymore.”

“Well we can change that in about six weeks.”

“You sir, are not touching me again until she is at least fifteen.”

“FIFTEEN?! Yeah, okay. Let’s see how long THAT lasts.”

“Never been in so much pain in my damn life. Felt like I was being ripped apart. It was worth it though, so I would do it again.”

“See?”

“You sir, get no say because you didn’t have to push her out.”

“I think I should get like a 10% say in this because my hand is bruised from you holding it so tight.”

“Be happy it wasn’t your dick.”

“Actually I would be happy if it was.”

“Bye, Jackman.”

“What? What I say?”

“You know what you said.”

You had gotten quiet for a few minutes and Jack looked up at you concerned.

“Baby girl?”

“I’m okay, I’m just happy. Really happy.”

Jack simply got up and placed Skylar in your arms before sitting back down next to you.

"Babe, I've been practicing."

"Practicing what?" You asked him suddenly confused.

Just then Jack signed "I love you" to you and your eyes immediately watered.

"I love you too."

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