#doorchime

[violetsandfluff]

The Yogurt Shop

anon request: harry x invisible string by taylor swift

a/n: this is not proofread, but it is a little awkward— im still trying to write blurbs.

summary: fetus harry got a job at a yogurt shop and remembered his second customers thirteen years later

wc: about 900

June, 2010

You could see, smell, and practically hear sugar screaming out loud from the moment you walked in the door. The small building housed dozens of flavors of frozen yogurt in all flavors, and every kind of topping imaginable. The walls were covered in an energetic turquoise wallpaper, and the chairs and tables were each painted an array of jarringly bright colors, each of them empty. Not a single customer milled through the shop.

“Hello,” a cheery young voice greeted you as doorchimes alerted him to your presence. “Welcome to The Yogurt Shop.”

“He’s adorable,” your friend Samantha chirped quietly, catching your attention. You averted your eyes from the colorful atmosphere of the shop to the boy dressed in a shirt as bright teal as the walls standing at the register. A curly mop of dark brown hair rested atop his head, and you immediately noticed the dimples adorning each of his cheeks as he smiled.

“The yogurt and bowls are on the yellow table against the wall to your right and the toppings are on the other wall,” he explained, feeling foolish when he realized you could see for yourself. “I have spoons and napkins up here.”

You gave him a grateful nod as your eyes began scanning the vast array of flavors and toppings.

“His accent is so posh,” your friend rambled into your ear.

“We’re in England. Everyone here talks like that,” you reasoned, feeling jealous that she had spotted him first.

“It’s so sophisticated and lovely,” she gushed. “I wish the boys back home were like him.”

“Jared is,” you teased, hinting at the boy she had been crushing on since eighth grade. “Is he not?”

“Not like that,” Samantha cooed. “Forget Minneapolis. I’m moving to London so I can meet attractive boys with accents every day.”

You shook your head at her antics as you hesitantly added some frozen yogurt to your dish.

“Have either of you been here before?” the cute boy piped. “My favorite flavor is cotton candy,” he added when you shook your heads, prompting you to add some to your dish. “I didn’t think you were local based on your accents.”

“What are you doing?” Samantha hissed at your yogurt, choking back laughter. “I thought you hated cotton candy.”

You looked distastefully down at your dish, which had both orange and cotton candy flavored frozen yogurt, as well as a few M&M’s that had ended up in your dish when she tried to put them in hers. “I can’t put it back now,” you groaned, realizing most of the yogurt would go to waste, despite how expensive it was.

You and Samantha carried your yogurts up to the counter where Harry surveyed them with an untrained eye.

“Do you mind if I take a picture of us and your yogurts?” he asked hesitantly, beckoning to the wall beside him where a singular polaroid hung. Had you been closer, you could have made out a picture of himself and the owner, so new that the color was still seeping into every area of the picture. “I’m trying to expand our photo wall.”

You and Samantha leaned in for a picture and he gave you a grateful smile, holding eye contact slightly longer than necessary.

“How much is it?” Samantha asked awkwardly, fidgeting with the tassels on her purse.

Brought out of his trance, the dimpled boy shrugged, feeling his cheeks redden. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he apologized. “It’s my first day.” He disappeared into the door behind him, presumably looking for somebody else to assess the total cost of their yogurts.

~~~

August, 2023

You hadn’t been to England since you went with Samantha’s family the summer before your junior year, but you had recently gotten into traveling again. Traveling overseas solo was a bit of an adjustment, but you had grown accustomed to taking precautions.

Fresh in your mind was the encounter with the cute boy in the ice cream shop you and Samantha had swooned over for months. You promised her you’d visit the shop during your trip and report back about the cute boy behind the counter.

When you arrived at the all-too familiar storefront, you barely recognized it due to the swarms of people thronging outside of it. A line wound out the door and to the end of the block, filled with people from far and near. The line moved slowly through the color-saturated shop. Hanging on the door was a sign that boldly announced The Yogurt Shop’s final day in business.

As you neared the door, you heard a low yet charming voice calling out to the people in the line. “Hello! Welcome to The Yogurt Shop.”

He was tall like you remembered him, but older and more muscular. By the time you filled your yogurt cup (with more desirable flavors, you might add), you noticed the wall of polaroids behind the register. At the top of the second row of pictures were you and Samantha, goo-goo eyed over the cute boy between them, repulsive frozen yogurts in hand.

You pulled out your phone with a trembling hand while he rang you up and turned it around to face him. He squinted his eyes too examine the photo. Samantha with her tongue out, you holding your yogurt in front of your face, and himself, grinning winningly behind you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, blinking a few times as he stared at it. He turned around slowly to face the polaroid wall before turning back to you, smiling slightly so his dimple showed. “Just vanilla?” he joked. “Your palette’s changed.”

“How much?” you motioned to the cash register and he looked down at it as a cheeky smile blossomed on his face. Shaking his head slowly, he waved a hand at your yogurt. “I forgot to apply a discount.”

“How come?” you frowned in confusion as he passed your cup back to you.

He cocked his head to one side, giving you an insufferably broad smile before pushing your cup further into your hands and beckoning for the next person in line.

Taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mrspeacem1nusone @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @daisyharry

[angiedarling]

closed starter for @tctteredwings [aaron]

location: outside/inside Spring to Life

angie pushed the front door of Spring to Life, pausing to let the doorchime go before speaking. she called out from the front door of the flowershop, not wanting to cross the front threshold. “morning aaron! how’s it going this morning?”

“do you think it’s alright if i bring the dogs in? i promise they won’t eat anything, i was just walking them when i remembered i wanted to pick some stuff up. If it’s not alright, i’ll come back in the afternoon, not to worry.” she had been walking her two great pyrenees when she stopped by but she obviously knew dogs were not welcome in all stores.

[phantombs]

It isn't raining. It's pouring. The thundering clouds, grey and throbbing in the spring-warm skies, let loose a biblical sort of fury. Every boom of lightning brings a tremor and a shudder, and the window to his left quakes in its rage. Hanoi, Cường muses, looks beseiged by tantrum... Or maybe he's misread this. Maybe it's grief. Hm. The doorchimes twinkle with customer, and the shopkeep, more than intrigued, glances with wonder. Grief, he'd thought. Now, grief he sees. "Welcome. Close the door behind you already. You're going to let pneumonia walk in," he starts. How strange. He hadn't expected customers in this roaring deluge, but here one stands. And lord, do they stand there — bogged. Hounded. Shoulder loomed by death. Cường plops his incense, and their smoke whirls mystical. "I can make a warm drink. Come in some more. You wouldn't want to get more sick, would you?"

More sick? "Have to be sick in the head to go through this storm, I'd imagine."

@aworidwithout.

[wizardmarriage]

every so often i get a note on the "me, trying not to cry: i love you kamen rider" post when someone checks my blog and i always think it's fun. kinda like hearing a doorchime ring or something

[shefancdotcom]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SadoTech.com Wireless Doorbell - Expandable, 2 Transmitter, 2 Plug-In Receiver.

[wereview]

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[ezombybestdeals]

$6.99 | PHYSEN No Battery Required Door Chime Kit IP55 Entry Bell 🎊🎊🎊 https://ezomby.com/deals-detail/16200-physen-no-battery-required-door-chime-kit-ip55-entry-bell-for-699 * Checkout ezomby.com for great deals like these * Insta users, please click our profile @ezombybestdeals for the link to this deal. * Signup and earn $5 Bonus * Refer a friend and earn $2.50 cashback * Create Price based Deal Alerts * Earn Cashback on Everyday purchases #christmas #christmasgifts #christmasdecorations #christmasdecor #santa #jinglebells #snow #winterbreak #christmastree #gifts #giftideas #newyear #newyear2020 #2020 #newyeargifts #doorchime #physen https://www.instagram.com/p/B5-y-KWgKtS/?igshid=oypd85copf5a

[shellyisvintage]

Sweet notes of welcome.🎶 Wood Door Chime, Pineapple Hospitality, Cut Out Pattern, Four Strands, With Wood Beads, Welcome Chime, Vintage Home Decor #homedecor #housewarming #entryway #wooddoorchime #pineapple #hospitality #cutoutpattern #doorchime #shellyisvintage #gotvintage #4notes #fridaylistings https://etsy.me/2VMa710 https://www.instagram.com/p/BxlYxW3g2a6/?igshid=1pzhe32d79jnb

[intendvision-blog]

See this #Giveaway #amazongiveaway for a chance to win: INTENDVISION Wireless #Doorbell 58 Melodies in #amazon. 

No Rule!

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY!

 Ends the earlier of Mar 3, 2019 11:59 PM PST, or when all prizes are claimed. 

ENTER HERE:

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Good Luck!

[thirstdriven]

@bohemiiia​:  five times safe ( simon x teddy )

𝗮 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿 ...

the  doorchime  jingles  behind  him  as  he  enters  the  rundown  convenience  store,  ray-ban  sunglasses  perched  delicately  on  his  nose  in  a  shoddy  attempt  at  hiding  the  watercolor  blend  of  purple  and  yellow  bruising  underneath  his  left  eye.  the  past  36  hours  have  been  a  whirlwind,  between  the  assault  on  his  person  over  a  solicited  sex  act  and  the  NDA’s  he’s  been  coerced  into  signing,  he  feels  more  disoriented  than  usual  this  morning.  through  the  tinted  protection  of  his  lenses,  he  watches  a  tall  and  dimpled  cashier  smile  as  he  helps  an  elderly  woman  through  checking  out.  “you’ve,  uh,  gotta  insert  the  side  with  the  chip,”  he  hears,  causing  teddy  to  smile  to  himself.  not  all  people  were  bad,  but  these  days  he’s  having  too  easy  of  a  time  forgetting  that.  when  the  ahjumma  moves  on  with  her  items  bagged,  he  moves  up  in  line  and  points  at  the  wall  behind  the  cashier.  “some  menthols,  please.  two  packs.”  he  can’t  tell  if  he’s  being  stared  at  because  of  the  coloring  around  his  eye,  or  if  he’s  being  overly  self-conscious.  in  a  moment  his  cigarettes  are  bagged  up  and  he  bows  his  head  appreciatively,  murmuring  a  soft,  “thank  you,  have  a  nice  day.”  for  some  reason,  he’s  able  to  zone  out  comfortably  on  the  drive  back  to  his  apartment  --  relaxed  as  he  listens  to  the  typical  love  songs  on  the  radio.

he  meets  simon  on  a  night  like  any  other,  in  another  convenience  store  as  he  sweats  out  ecstasy  and  soju  under  shitty  fluorescent  lighting,  all  keyed  up  and  wanting  to  be  touched  --  to  be  touching,  brushing  against  anything.  but  just  the  blown  look  of  teddy’s  pupils  is  enough  to  tip  simon  off  and  insist  on  driving  him  back  to  his  apartment.  on  his  bicycle.  teddy  makes  fun,  teases  him  over  his  majestic  steed  but  when  he  loops  his  arms  around  the  front  of  simon’s  torso  and  presses  his  heartback  against  the  other  man’s  back,  he  feels  safe.  it  should  perturb  him,  since  simon  was  an  unknown  albeit  friendly  stranger.  --  his  heart  strums  steadily  in  his  chest,  sweat  beading  along  his  hairline  and  fresh  air  hitting  his  face  as  they  breeze  through  the  streets.

the  second  time  they  meet,  it’s  with  yet  another  rush  of  endorphins  as  he  watches  simon  practically  come  out  of  the  woodworks  of  the  bar  that  night  to  grab  the  man  sexually  harassing  teddy  to  kick  his  teeth  in.  it  happens  in  a  blur,  and  at  first  all  teddy  can  do  is  let  out  a  surprised  huff  of  laughter  before  self-preservation  really  begins  to  kick  in  --  and  simon  tells  him  he’s  already  banned  from  a  few  bars  in  the  area.  so  he  grabs  simon’s  hand  and  runs,  runs  like  hell  out  of  the  bar  and  around  the  corner  until  they  reach  the  alleyway,  circling  around  until  they  lose  the  pissed  off  business  owner  or  creep  with  the  bloody  faucet  of  a  nose  that  might  be  trailing  after  them.  teddy  has  to  stop  at  some  point,  put  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  catch  his  breath  for  a  moment  --  it  mingling  with  the  rasps  of  air  simon  is  letting  out.  there’s  a  beat.  then,  teddy  is  meeting  his  eyes  and  laughing  again  --  eyes  crinkling  up  in  the  corners  with  a  hint  of  misplaced  fondness.  “what  the  fuck  was  that  all  about?”  if  the  teddy  of  then  knew  what  he  knows  now  --  well,  he’s  not  sure  he’d  change  a  thing.  their  story  may  be  more  of  a  meet  ugly  than  a  meet  cute,  but  sometimes  he  wonders  if  people  like  them  were  even  able  to  have  those  “meet-cutes.”

flash  forward.  there’s  asphalt  digging  into  his  slacks,  knees  planted  firmly  on  the  ground  as  teddy  thanks  simon  the  best  way  he  knows  how  --  plush  lips  wrapped  around  the  tip  of  simon’s  cock,  before  it’s  pulled  away  and  rubbed  teasingly  across  his  lips  --  a  surprised,  needy  breath  leaving  him.  he’s  hard  as  hell  in  his  designer  briefs,  well  aware  that  anyone  could  come  strolling  down  the  alleyway  in  the  middle  of  the  day  like  this,  but  his  brain  is  too  clouded  with  lust  to  care.  with  scraped  up  knuckles  gripping  teddy’s  hair  just  the  way  he  likes  as  hips  snap  forward  to  feed  more  of  the  length  into  teddy’s  mouth,  he  holds  onto  the  belt  looped  around  the  waistband  of  simon’s  pants  as  desperate  slurping  noises  escape  from  the  back  of  his  throat,  gazing  up  at  him  with  dark  eyes.  it  was  hard  to  find  people  who  would  put  themselves  on  the  line  for  teddy  --  hell,  his  own  parents  struggled  doing  something  like  that.  so  what  if  his  display  of  appreciation  was  a  little  abnormal?

it's  the  first  time  they’ve  figured  out  they’ve  found  a  good  thing  here,  this  thing  between  them.  somewhere  between  yet  to  be  defined  and  to  be  determined.  simon  fits  into  his  life  so  seamlessly,  perched  on  teddy’s  king-sized  bed  and  getting  snack  crumbs  everywhere  as  they  banter  with  each  other,  being  a  frustrating  and  adorable  thorn  in  teddy’s  side.  they  spent  most  of  the  night  exercising  and  he’s  not  sure  how  many  solid  hours  of  sleep  he  actually  got,  but  as  the  morning  light  streamlines  in  through  his  blinds,  he  rubs  the  back  of  his  neck  with  a  wide  yawn.  he  doesn’t  feel  completely  rested,  but  he  feels  very  comfortable  --  and  that  wasn’t  a  trivial  thing  to  teddy.  “simon-ah,  coffee?”  surely  he  can  figure  out  the  espresso  machine.

[nomstellations]

I’m not the biggest brain but hm. Maybe after a day of battling and loses, it lowers the poor inkling’s mood and they overall feel drained and disappointed. To which the predator is like “bro you need to relax... but in my stomach of course.”

The jingle of the cafe’s doorchime got Art’s attention, causing him to sit up from resting on the counter. He starts to grin as he looks at who came in, it looks like his favorite squid has decided to grace him with her presence on an otherwise empty day. Ace wasn’t looking too hot though, as she approaches the counter it becomes clear that she's ink stained and not in the best mood. "Ace....my dear, what's the matter? It's not like you to look so down." She leans up against the counter with a heavy sigh, pushing her trademark sunglasses up onto her forehead. "Today...wasn't the best for me. Took a lot of losses, I'm not really feeling anything else." He frowned, he hated seeing her so upset. "Well...how about I get you something sweet? It's on the house." The little inkling shook her head, apparently not feeling in the mood for sweets. Artemis hummed in thought, how could he cheer her up? After a moment he gets an idea, and a somewhat devious smile spreads across his face.  “You look worn out...why don’t you come relax? I know the perfect place...~”

Ace notes the slight purr in his voice, she knows exactly what he means by that. She’s tired, her body is sore, and she just wants to curl up someplace warm...so it honestly worked out in her favor. So she nods, causing the colossal inkling to blink in surprise. Usually he has to be crafty, she’s a perceptive one and needs a lot more coaxing than this...she must know already and must need it. His smile is now more gentle as he leans over the counter, scooping up her much smaller form into his arms. “Don’t worry my sweet...you can rest inside me for as long as you need to.” He gives her a small kiss on the forehead before opening up wide, letting her gaze down into the orange abyss that was his throat. She didn’t wriggle as she usually did, leaving him to start gulping her down with no struggle. Her ink-stained body was pretty easy to swallow, but he took it slowly so she could have time to settle into his warmth. He gently rubs his throat as gulp after gulp pulls her deep within, and he lets out a soft sigh as he finally gets her down. Ace slides into his stomach without a hitch, curling up inside and barely making a dent in his already large stomach. It grumbles softly and the walls close in to cradle her, with Art gently rubbing her from the outside. She can feel the stress melting away in the warmth and sensations, and she unconsciously nestles into his belly as she starts to doze. Artemis meanwhile starts to quietly purr, happy with a full belly and the fact that he can feel her settling down. He’ll be sure to let her out later after her nap, and he won’t be cheeky about it this time. He truly cares about her well-being, but isn’t complaining about getting a full belly out of making sure she feels better.

[norcumii]

I don’t know if you’ve seen Murdoch Mysteries, but I always imagine Commander Fox as Inspector Brackenreid, having to deal with the clone versions of Crabtree and Murdoch on the daily with their general everything. Just, experiments! Novels! Weirdly accurate predictions! And poor Fox just being this tired supportive really really long suffering dad who understands nothing but is willing to back their play anyways. “Jeks stole the cables for an experiment? Sure. Okay. Why not...”

I know literally just enough to get myself into trouble here. I have no idea if this is what you were after, but this was the best meshing of the two I could figure. ^_^;

For this set of prompts.

********

The doorchime was ringing. It was a steady, cheerful bing-ding repeating over and over as someone outside enthusiastically leaned on the button, and all Fox could do was groan and pull his pillow further over his head. “Fucking hell,” he yelled in the door’s general direction. If his internal clock was right – and it always was – then it wasn’t even half past three and he’d been off shift just long enough for this to shatter the middle of his REM cycle.

Bing-ding. Bing-ding. Bing-ding.

He knew they weren’t going to let up, because they never did, and the inevitability of it all meant he could convince himself to remain in bed an entire ten seconds longer.

Bing-ding. Bing-ding.

“UGH.” He shambled up, tossing the pillow aside and not even bothering to grab clothes. His sleepshorts were enough to keep him decent if there were immediate bullshit shenanigans, and if he was lucky then the whirlwind would descend and then leave again just as quick.

50-50 odds, really.

Fox palmed the door opening, gesturing. “Murder, Crab, inside. Now.”

Murder’s eagerness always gave the bastard a bounce to his step, and Fox was willing to bet there was a grin wide as the Senate building under that bucket. Crab at least nodded to him as he tagged along at Murder’s heels. “Commander. Lovely evening–”

“Swapped over to morning, what do you two want?”

They pulled their buckets as the door closed, and Murder did indeed have that grin. Man somehow managed to be the most annoyingly pleasant brother Fox had ever met – until he got sufficiently pushed, and it could be fun watching that carnage. Maybe not worth the rest of the time, but still. “Sorry, Commander, but we got a lead on that weird coincidence for the swoop–”

“Uh uh.” Fox shook his head and held out a hand. “What do you want?”

Murder held out a datapad. “We just need to requisition a few things–”

Fox tuned him out, paying just enough attention to sign the forms. He did not need to know what they were getting up to, and the less he knew the more plausible deniability –

He paused, the last item on a lengthy list catching his eye in spite of himself. No. Oh, no. Fox winced, steeled himself, and finished giving them clearance. He held the pad back out, but didn’t release it to Crab’s eager grasp. He glared Murder in the eyes.

“I want one thing to be clear. I don’t know and I don’t care why you need boloball equipment, among...all the rest of this, but I am going to tomorrow’s boloball championship, as a spectator, and if you and this or any other investigation interrupts it, both of you are going on Senate patrol duty for months. Do I make myself clear?”

Murder nodded, still looking too damn earnest. “Clear as Kyber, sir.”

Fox let go of the pad, nodding at Crab’s salute and flopping back in his bunk the instant they were out the door.

Tomorrow was either going to be a perfect day, no interruptions, or somehow Murder and Crab would end up at the heart of the games with at least three different accusations of murder, theft, cheating, and/or scandal. 50-50 odds, with those two.

He really needed his sleep now.

~end

[lovesmobius]

Jadzia Dax fanfiction

Hi guys this is my first fanfiction post, so please be nice :)

It is about Jadzia Dax from Star Trek DS9 so I hope you like it :)

(not my gif)

Jadzia Dax x Reader

doesn’t matter who you are anyone can read this :)

You’re being way to hard on yourself and Jadzia comforts you because she cares for you.

Captain Sisko was angry. His voice was firm. He didn’t even give you a chance at explaining yourself.

You tried to stay strong. Tears filled your eyes, you tried so hard to hold them back.

“Do you understand me, ensign?”

You could hardly look at his face. So filled with anger. You feel as if you failed in your job, failed at being the perfect Starfleet officer. You weren’t a scientist, not anymore. Not after what the captain was telling you.

“Yes, sir”

“Good. Dismissed”

You walked out of his office passed everyone else in ops.

Jadzia reached out but you pulled away from her. No one could comfort you know. All your worst fears were just confirmed by the person who meant most to you.

The moment you stept into the turbolift and started to go down you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You couldn’t wait to get to your quarters. To pack up your stuff and leave this dreaded place.

 It didn’t take long for Jadzia to follow you afterwards.

You knew she wasn’t going to let you leave, at least not without talking you out of it.

The doorchime drove you crazy. She kept ringing it. The sound is not so pleasing after you hear it ring 50 times.

“(y/n), I know you’re in there! You better open me up or I will break this door down. I mean it”

On your way to the door you hesitiated. Should you let her in?

You leaned against the door.

“I spoke to Ben, I….”

You opened the door, to Jadzia’s surprise, who thought you wouldn’t open her up.

“Don’t”

Jadzia invited herself into your quarters. It was then when she saw your bags packed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re leaving?”

You were still frustrated.

“I’m clearly not wanted here”

“Why would you say that?”

“You spoke with the captain, you know why.”

Jadzia sighed “Just because you didn’t follow his orders doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you here. If he didn’t want you here he would’ve send you away but he didn’t”

  You didn’t know what to say. It still didn’t make anything better. Your actions still ruined your career.

“If he would’ve sent you away I would’ve gone too”

You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a small smile “You can’t do that, not for me”

“Why shouldn’t I? That is why I went to him in the first place. To tell him I’m just as responsible for what happened as you are. He should punish me too”

“Did he?”

Jadzia didn’t say a word. You knew enough.

“You’re his friend. Of course he wouldn’t”

“He didn’t punish you either. It might have felt like that because he was angry”

“He had all the right to be. It was my fault. I am a terrible scientist. Those people, they…..”

The words couldn’t get out.

“They were just doing their job, like you. scientists have to take risks. We didn’t get hurt because we were in the other room. We couldn’t have known that this was the effect.”

“I should have known!” You shouted out, anger was raging through you.

Jadzia grabbed you by your arms and sat you down, hoping it would calm you. Her hand slowly rubbing your back.

“We can’t know everything. We know now that our transport modulator on a higher frequenty will cause a powersurge in the corrider”

“We could have prevented it. That was our duty!”

“It is not our duty to know what could or could not happen. That is for us to find out. Now stop being so hard on yourself and become a realistic human being. Making mistakes is human.”

“I wish captain Sisko saw it that way”

“He is not the one who has to see it that way. You are. Look around you (y/n), everyone is fine, the Bajorans were released from sickbay an hour ago. Of course captain Sisko has to react like this. He is the captain. He thinks you are a wonderful officer. He just wants you to see the best of yourself….Whatever you are acting on” she pointed at your bags “is all inside of your head. Focus on what you can do instead of what you can’t, you’re only making this situation so much worse for yourself.

Great, you started crying again.

“ But, if that is true, than why would he shout at me?”

Jadzia laughed “It is how he thinks he encourages people, sometimes it works, sometimes it makes people want to run away.”

Jadzia hugged you, holding you tight. Her hug felt warm and loving, and tight. You didn’t want to let her go.

the snot and tears are still running down your face but you manage to laugh.

“What matters if you will actually do it”

“Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere. I need you too much for that. I have some work to do”

You pulled back and smiled at her. Jadzia inspired you to work on yourself.

You made an appointment with a counselor.

Deep Space Nine sadly didn’t have any counselors on board so you had to travel to the next best Starfleet outpost for a counselors appointment. From that moment on, you weren’t going to let your fears decide your faith in life, you were.

From that moment on you were going to become the person you are.

The End haha

Thank you for reading!!!!

[phantombs]

as a ( late but shouldn't that be expected ) holiday gift for cường, myungdae is giving him a bird feeder. is this his way of trying to get the pigeons to come by cường's shop whenever cường treats his wounds? perhaps, but myungdae won't be admitting that either- "...i don't believe you celebrate, but consider this as payment. thank you." ( from the stubborn customer who also feeds the birbs in his free time :'D- hi dean!! hope it's okay that i sent this for on :D happy holidays!! )

The doorchimes sing-song, and Cường glances up. Myungdae with a gift?! Oh me, oh my. “Trời ơi,” he mutters, words half-swallowed by the Buddha shrines. They croon liltingly, but Cường, knelt before them to lay their incense, only hears the slight shuffle of his visitor’s feet. And maybe, he thinks, the oozing of their heart! How it drip, drip, drips with sentiment and honey.  “Really. I told you you didn’t owe me anything already, didn’t I? You come in, and I fix you. I'm doing my job,” he mutters. He rises up on his own two feet, gait a little funny, and eyes the bird feeder. It’s nice. His skull fills with songs of canaries and finches both, their sweet twittering that’ll chase the silence far, far away. He loves his birds, and he loves his flowers, and looking to Myungdae, he loves the summer sunshine, and the simplest and meagerest of humble things. That said... “They’ll crowd around my shop once I put this up. It won't be quiet here anymore. Is that why you're giving it to me?” His brow perks. He’s difficult, but hey, it keeps them on their toes, right? “I don’t need an occasion to accept someone’s gift. Thank you. And if you really think I don't get enough visitors, maybe stop coming here only when you're hurt. You could’ve just done that. Not a wild idea, is it?”

[violette-lewis]

•24/08/2022•

Day 583 of productivity [583/600]

Got the smart reader set up. Cleaned the whole apartment and hovered. Forced myself to go to stores. Finally bought a portable doorchime, problem-solver. Found a nice plant store. On the way back, took my time, even if it was raining, to make a flowers bouquet. Watched Criminal Minds.

Struggling with my appearence. Not enough sleep. Too much caffeine. Unbalanced food diet. Stress. Obviously, all are symptoms of my profound lack of motivation and depression that is taking every inch of myself. How do I motivate myself again. How do I find a purpose. It is very hard. Waking up is still terrible.

Mood : defo could be better

[wat-the-cur]

(This is an old piece that I wrote after making this post: https://loathsome-aesthete.tumblr.com/post/171322899440/something-that-would-absolutely-happen-if-weyoun#notes  ...I was not particularly happy with it at the time, I thought the whole thing felt a bit stiff and cold. I find that a lot with my writing, I do not always mind, but here I thought it was detrimental. Finding it and reading it again, though, I do not think it’s too bad. I thought you guys might like to read it, so I am posting it! I apologise in advance for the horrible grammar, it is a weak point of mine.)

-----

The box was just heavy enough that she had to tuck it beneath her arm, before pressing the doorchime.

"Who is it?" Ezri felt a flicker of satisfaction at the clarity of his answering call, no muted croaking that she would need to have repeated.

"It's Ezri!"

"Please come in, Miss Dax."

Ezri rearranged the box as she entered, only looking up when the doors sealed behind her. The sight of her host hit her like the first step into a cold stream. Six was cross legged on the end of his bed, hunched over a PADD which he held as gingerly as if it were shard of inscribed crystal. He was naked. His colourless skin seemed to glare in the brightness of his quarters and for a moment, Ezri felt that her eyes would be seared. She became vaguely conscious of him looking up to greet her, hitching his bulky glasses up his nose (Julian had made several, barely good natured pleas to treat Six's half blind eyes, to no avail. Six was adamant that the Founders' design not be altered, only assisted).

 Ezri would not meet his gaze, as her eyes flitted with uneasy curiosity over his foreign form. His body was patched with openings, their shape not unlike that of the Terran almond. Each was puffed with twin rows of delicate gills, repetitions of those of his ears. Gaping widest was the gilled mouth of his belly, which she now saw was soft, creasing with the curling of his spine. She was dimly aware of the hair, like astrakhan that forked at the crest of his hidden groin and rose over his flanks, but her eyes where suddenly pulled to his knees. Her breath stuttered as she thought she saw pair of hands, second to those cradling the PADD, drumming their long, tender tipped fingers on Six's kneecaps. She then realised that these new hands lay at the ends of his folded legs.

"Oh-ha...I'm sorry." Six's now meek voice brought her exploration to a close. The realisation of her invasive stare burned and she guiltily dropped her gaze to the box she held.  

"No, I'm so sorry, it was wrong of me to gawp. You're in your own quarters after all!" The apology rang offensively loud, in the presence of the mild Vorta. As she chanced a look at his face, she was distracted by the quivering of his ears. The gills inside them fluttered and ruffled, like the feathers of a bird, bathing in dust. Ezri's voice shrank, as she felt undeserving of the understanding in his tight smile.  

"The Vorta have been educated as well as can be expected, on the comfort of other humanoids." He rose from the bed deliberately, letting her decide where to place her eyes. "We have no cause to feel uncomfortable at being seen this way, apart from of course, the lack of protection. Then again, I know that one, or two layers of cloth are useless against a blade, or a phaser fire." At the edge of her vision, the gills of his belly rippled.  "I was inconsiderate, I should have remembered that I was in no state to be seen, before I invited you in." As he finished, He peeled a stiff, grey jumpsuit from the head of the bed and began to ease it over his bare legs. His feet, those elongated hands, popped out from beneath the flared hems.

"There." She lifted her head as Six closed the last snap at his shoulder. "Much better, I wouldn't feel embarrassed about your inquisitiveness, Miss Dax," His brows knitted at the lingering flush across her cheeks, "I must look quite different to a Trill. If I were in your position, I am sure I would have stared, too."

Ezri could tell that her cheeks had not cooled, but she tried to scupper the concern surfacing in his gaze with a lopsided smile. She glanced down at the box once more, before thrusting it towards him with both hands.

"From Garak." A soft and quizzical "oh?" escaped Six, as his own hands tentatively uncurled to receive the box. With a brief grin, Ezri added; "A delivery for Weyoun the Sixth, from a Mr Elim Garak!" She gave a mock salute.

Six did not quite smile, he was so intent on the box, but she was grateful not to have missed the twitch of amusement beneath his eyes. Had she a moment to dwell on it, she would think that many of the crew would likely appreciate the more subdued and genuine nature of Six's humour, compared to the practised laughter of his predecessor and contemporary. Six was studying the box in his hands, not unlike the way in which she had studied him earlier. He rocked it gently, weighing it, his eyes darting about the lid.

"You gonna open it? Oh I-would you prefer I left before you open it?" She had expected him to be jolted by her question, having forgotten she was there. Instead, a small, chipper smile graced him. He looked almost as if he had been waiting for her to speak, to confirm something for him.

"No, stay, let's both see what it is." He said, as he eased his fingers beneath the lid. In truth, Ezri had already guessed what might be inside and she wagered that he did, too, but she politely stepped forward to see the reveal.  The lid fell aside, onto the bed and Six deftly parted the protective tissue. A long moment of silence passed, after the rustling had ceased, as Six gazed at the contents of the box.  

"An outfit." Ezri confirmed, bouncing once on her toes. "I believe Garak's exact words were; "Miss Dax, thank goodness I've caught you! Here, make haste and bring this to Mr Weyoun. I must confess that each sighting of him in those shapeless dust cloths is moving me closer to my grave than any one of my enemies could ever dream!"" She told his this, because she felt that Weyoun would likely be above getting upset over a slight on his clothing. What is a slight on one's clothing, when one saw nothing beautiful in them to begin with? That did not stop her from worrying that her recounting the tailor's words had been a mistake as she glanced back at Six, anxiously gnawing at his lip.  At last, he spoke.

"I wonder if I can pay for this...you know, I think I can." Six set the box down and made for the corner of his quarters that was ever expanding with the valueless brick a brack he liked to bring home. Not all of it was without value Ezri realised, as the Vorta squatted beside an assemble of gold-pressed latinum strips. The small slabs had been stacked into rugged, shimmering towers, as if a child had used them to build a little golden city.

"You shouldn't keep your latinum out in the open like that, someone could see it and try to break into your quarters later-hey, don't, you'll make it scab up, again." She knelt beside him and swatted the air in front of his mouth, trying to get him to release his lip. The flesh, now wet and purple, sprang from between his teeth as he began to speak again.

"There may be enough here for the cost of the outfit, wouldn't you say? If only I had know that Mr Garak was making it, I would have played longer."

"Played longer?"

"Yes, I won it." His voice was growing quieter, but his eyes widened slightly with a child-like pride, as he looked from the latinum to the Trill. "There are a lot of entertaining games to play at Quark's. I believe I was able to pick up the rules of Tongo rather quickly for a new comer." He began to lick his lip rather than chew it, as he looked back at the latinum. He was trying to sooth it.

"You know, I think that if you didn't know that Garak was making the outfit for you, then he won't expect any payment, except perhaps profuse thanks. It's a gift, Six." She hoped her smile was reassuring. She smile wider as Six tried to return it with a raw mouth.

"A very generous gift." He whispered.

"I think it may actually be more of a generous gift to himself, than to you. You heard what he said."  That wrung a chuckle out of both of them, brief, but sincere, cosy.

"You should try it on," Ezri said as they stood up, "see if it would have been worth giving Garak all your hard won latinum for."

With a high hum of agreement, Six drifted over to the bed, unsnapping the shoulder of his jumpsuit. Just before Ezri turned away from him, she glimpsed his exposed back and found that, though the nape of his neck was smooth as vellum, that dark and crinkled hair sprouted thickly along the path of his spine. The amount of hair on him surprised her and the thought of one day ruffling him between his shoulder blades flashed across her mind. She readily shook the image away, settling her focus upon Six's collection, which faced her. She peered beyond the bright little latinum city, over the colourful fleet of bottles, holding shards of their fallen brethren and into the country of cheap treasures. She had to choke back a laugh, as she spied among the clutter, a green and scarlet hookah, cracked and opaque with age, crowned by a bundle of naked jumja sticks. An obscene picture.  

"I'm decent." Six called her to judge his newest possession.  

At her second first sight of him that day, her breath caught again. Ezri had heard that the best tailor is a skilled illusionist. He could shave thirty pounds off a client with just the right cut, or grow them up several inches with the correct marriage of colour and pattern. Looking at Six, clad in Garak's newest creation, she dearly hoped that in was not her imagination that this tailor appeared not to have set out to deceive those who gazed on the Vorta, but showcase him to them.

The set was as minimal as any uniform, a tunic, trousers and boots. Ezri was surprised that Garak had retained the dull colours that he was so used to seeing and despising on this unwitting client. The tunic was of some sort of lush velvet, black, but for a central, herring bone column, which was a dove grey. It dipped just beneath Six's collar and drew to a point at the hem, between his thighs. The higher panels had space in between them, narrowing as they stretched down his breastbone, a screen of dark mesh behind them hinting at the flesh beneath. The trousers, also black, wrinkled almost charmingly  at the mouths of the knee high boots, the feet of which seemed to be shaped to accommodate him. (Ezri considered that Garak must have commissioned them from elsewhere). He had even been given new glasses, lighter, rectangular  lenses, framed in silver . The clothes that Six had been replicating for himself had been only for the purpose of coverage, impersonal and detached. They had hidden him with their practical shapelessness. This new assemble was wholly a gift for him. The garments hugged Six without squeezing him, the seams sharp, though not distractingly angular, yielding with his form and celebrating the slightness and softness of it. Close, but not boastful, it illuminated him. "This is he!" was what it said. Oh, Garak, you absolute master.  

"Fantastic." The Trill's beam shone on the Vorta's modesty. "You look just fantastic."

Six's eyes slowly warmed with pride, happy and careless lines splitting across his face. He rocked slightly on his heels and she felt tempted to mimic him.

"I shall take your word as truth, Ezri Dax." He proclaimed at last, with a chuckle. Ezri was about to jokingly try and convince him that everyone one on Deep Space Nine would call that a mistake, but she withheld from marring the sincerity of the moment.

"I'm off duty, you know." She said. "You could wear it out to a lunch with me?"

"Why not? Here's to hoping I don't spill anything." Six reverently smoothed the front of the tunic, careful not to pull at the mesh.