#fat cardassian babies

[taya-ki]

Collection of baby doodles... Those lil guys are in the brain

[spocks-kaathyra]

garak with a baby :00

[fauvester]

KISSES? KITHES FOR BABY IDAN???

[deepestturtlepielover]

Reminds me of the grubs in the brooding caverns on alternia fat blind and useless sometimes tasty

baby cardassian (fat blind and useless)

[janekburza]

Baby Fever

garashir, Star Trek DS9 | rating G | 1.654 words

He froze as soon as he saw the scene before him. His pillows were torn, the sofa blanket was in two pieces in two parts of the room, but things that weren’t soft and would make noise if moved were untouched. Sloan was lying unconscious on the ground by the table and by his head sat one of the most unhappy children Julian had ever seen. The fat little Cardassian baby squealed in Sloan's ear but the man didn't move at all.

read on ao3

[catboyelimgarak]

Tears in my eyes over fat squishy blind nyooping Cardassian babies who roll around and wiggle all day and bask under the patches of suns and then hefted into their mama’s arms who are so strong she can hold like THREE OF THEM some how

[famigsart]

Jules holding a fat cardassian baby with baby-floof

[whaliiwatching]

top of his class in pediatrics!

—

(lower right inspired by this post)

[starshiplamaupin]

Concept for a baby Cardassian.

Just hatched and already tuckered out.

Baby Cardassians have mottled markings that would have allowed their ancestors to stay well hidden. As they age the patterns fade until they are nearly invisible.

Their tails are extra chubby, giving them a store calories. The first few months sees the most rapid growth rate in young Cardassians and they need the those fat stores to power through them.

[ofhouseadama]

I think it was first mentioned ages ago but can you talk about the Garak/Cardassian breeding kink and Julian learning about it?

*slams fists on the table* yes ABSOLUTELY

Actually my wife and I were just talking about the patented Cardassian Breeding Kink (TM) a few nights ago while driving six and a half hours up to NoVa for a wedding because all our weirdest and funniest and most unhinged ideas come to us after dark in the car on the highway.

But like... in a society where hereditary legacy and bloodlines and legitimacy are so important and bastardy and premarital/extramarital sex is so transgressive and deviant and tantalizing... there HAS to be a breeding kink. Like come on. Look at Catholicism. I know Dukat is a raging sociopath and Garak is... Garak but from what we know, Cardassian society is obsessed with children and producing children and punishing people for producing the wrong kind of children and rewarding people who have a litter of legitimate heirs.

If it walks like a breeding kink, talks like a breeding kink...

It's a breeding kink.

And I think that Kira knows this. I think she has to know. And we were talking about a scenario where Garak is on DS9 coming or going from Earth or Bajor or somewhere for diplomatic reasons and Julian's stayed behind on Cardassia because he has a few patients at his clinic due to deliver any day now, he has to see them through to the end, no matter what happens -- and so Garak and Kira are sitting in Quark's or in a holosuite drinking when Garak gets a vid of Julian cradling multiple fat Cardassian babies. He hasn't slept in two days and it looks like it, he's in his surgical scrubs, he's covered in viscera from the birth but like... babies. Fat, healthy babies. A rare and precious commodity on post-Dominion bombardment Cardassia. These are the first fat, healthy born at term and in the 99th percentile of height and weight Cardassian babies in over a YEAR.

And Kira. She's had just enough to drink to see how this is effecting Garak. He's blushing however Cardassians blush. The man is flustered. There's a second video taken by the mother of one of the babies as Julian rocks the baby while doing the post natal exam. It's too much for him to bear. The most transgressive thing that the bastard son of a ruling class man can do is want to participate in legally sanctioned marriage and sire some heirs.

She decides to make it worse. Kira chooses violence. Taking a gulp of springwine and running her mouth about how Julian is like, so good at medicine. So good at it that he transplanted Kirayoshi O'Brien into her uterus. She wonders what he could do if he had enough time and resources to transplant an entire uterus. The science is probably there. Hell, if he'd had the time and been able to operate on himself, he would have transplanted Kirayoshi into himself. And if anyone was gonna know how to engineer a Human-Cardassian baby, it's Julian. And Julian would make such pretty babies. Wouldn't he make such pretty babies with someone, Garak?

How does Julian find out about this exchange? Desperately unclear. I think Garak is definitely still years from admitting to himself what he wants, which is to like. Heal and be capable of emotions and participating in a family and having friends.

But I think Julian definitely notices how Garak acts the first time Julian puts a foundling baby in his arms while he pulls out medical supplies and formula and a blanket and diapers in anticipation of examining the baby before calling the orphanage. And like. Garak's not ready, they're both not ready. And Cardassia's reproductive health crisis in the face of starvation and disease and radiation is critical enough that a relatively healthy newborn will have no problem being placed in a family.

But after that... every time Julian discovers a foundling baby on the clinic steps in the hours before it opens for the morning, he puts the baby in Garak's arms. And eventually, the baby that's found is a Human-Cardassian hybrid. And Garak balks.

Because this baby won't have such an easy time being placed. Cardassians want babies they can pass of easily as theirs. They want uncomplicated newborns without histories and traumas and the complex medical issues that come along with first generation hybridization. This baby will just go to the orphanage. Who will hold them? Rock them to sleep? Make sure their needs are met? How dare you, Julian. It would be so irresponsible. The baby needs to stay with us. We'll protect them and take care of them and hold them dear and if you dare to tell me that that's fatherhood I will deny it vehemently.

But anyway somewhere in that process they both get very drunk at like, someone's wedding or a festival and Julian goads Garak during sex by telling him he wants to have his babies and tells him to cum inside him.

We all contain multitudes.

[taya-ki]

Some lil doodles I've done in the meantime

[littlewalken]

DS9 Odo Vorta plot bunny

"There you are, Constable," Captain Sisko said in a hushed sweet tone as the changeling security chief entered his office. He was holding a bundle in his arms.

"Sorry I'm late to your call but there was... Business to attend to," Odo said as he held himself a little more proudly than usual but contained the smile he couldn't wait to exhibit in private. In fact, he was already thinking how he would celebrate. Later. In private.

"Hopefully there won't be anything that will need your undivided attention for awhile." Sisko walked from behind his desk cuddling the bundle in his arms. "Are you familiar with the Federation's rules on foundlings?"

"Not off the top of my head."

"It states that if a child requires a foster home preference is to be given to one of the same species or culture."

A swaddled baby was in his arms, a pale, pointed eared, wispy purple haired baby. Its long prehensile tail with a faint tuft at the end twitched a few times.

"I've already sent a message to the Dominion-Cardassian alliance but in the mean time..." "The baby looks comfortable with you," Odo said as he crossed his arms.

"But I am not a member of the Dominion," Sisko said. "Remember how quickly that Jem'Hadar child grew? If we're in the same situation a Vorta will only obey a Foun...Changeling."

Odo guffed and finally put his arms out and took the baby. It opened its eyes for a moment to see why its gentle rest had been disrupted and scrutinized Odo for a moment before yawning and going back to sleep.

"You'll be given paternity leave," Cpt Sisko said as he picked up a PADD. "And anything else you'll need. Dr Bashir is working on an exact formula recipe but the baby had some made with powdered kava nut."

"Are you certain there isn't anyone else who can do this?" Odo asked. "Certainly there are Vorta diplomats?"

"Inquiries have been made," Sisko said. "But in the mean time rules are rules, and you of all people should understand that."

***

Human and Bajoran diapers had a severe lack of accommodations for tails. Garak the Cardassian tailor seemed to understand Odo's predicament and knew the exact setting for the replicators. But still, Cardassian tails were fatter, being used for fat storage among other things, and Vorta tails were used for grasping.

***

TIS ALL FOR NOW

Insert the Vorta of your choice arriving on the station to inquire about the infant. Maybe Weyoun 6?

Maybe Odo decides to raise the Vorta without telling it he's a changeling/Founder to see what happens.

Does the Vorta grow quickly, more like a humanoid, or somewhere in between?

[fauvester]

OH WE ARE SO BACK..

[chequerootlurks]

Star Trek fans have been debating whether Cardassians have tails… or more accurately if they -should!- have tails.

I am on the “yes, tails!” side of the debate.

My headcanon is now that all Cardassians are born with tails, though all but the most backwater and/or impoverished families have their children’s tails surgically amputated at birth.

Given how thick the tail is at the base, and how close it is to parts of the digestive (excretory) and reproductive areas, at home amputation has a good chance of resulting in mutilation and deformity, and quite possibly death if the area gets infected.

All proper Cardassian infants have their tails amputated, which is why we’ve yet to see a tailed Cardassian on the show.

Cardassians view their tailed kind as beasts. Much like humans view apes. On Cardassia Prime, killing a tailed Cardassian is no different than shooting a wild animal. It’s not a crime; in fact, it’s considered a public service.

Given the short, thick nature of the Cardassians’ tails, it is essentially impossible to hide them under clothing.

The original reason for tail amputation came in the early ages of attempts of space flight. Getting a space suit that would safely fit over a tail proved too difficult, so the astronauts tails’ would be amputated for sheer necessity.

Being de-tailed eventually came to be associated with high rank, science, judges, politicians… people of power.

Detailing trickled down into the masses, starting as a black market, back-alley procedure. Many adults lost their lives due to botched procedures. Even more tragic were the infant deaths.

Fast forward, and tail removal became medically accepted by the State. Parents could have their children’s tails amputated at birth.

Fast forward some more, and tail amputation became legally required for all Cardassia. It’s to the point now where the infant’s tail is removed before parents have a chance to even hold their new baby. Some of the younger generations are completely unaware Cardassians even have tails.

____

Why do Cardassians still have the tail phenotype? Well, it’s quite simple. A trait isn’t lost if it’s not causing harm. There’s no natural selection to make having a tail a disadvantage from an evolutionary standpoint. Think wisdom teeth and poor vision in humans. Medical procedures correct the conditions, the genetic traits still exist, and thus are passed on to future generations.

Biologically, the tail stored fat which could be converted into both energy and water, and help the Cardassian species thrive in the harsh climates of their home world.

___

I want to go draw some tailed Cardassian studies now.

[cyrelia-j]

[Fic] Me Tangere (Jack/Parmak)

Continuing with this since a bug kinda bit me on the pairing. Still for @borg-apologist who I want to give such massive undying thanks to for being so encouraging with this ridiculously self indulgent series. I don't normally do romance but I love this damn sappy over the top gooeyness of this universe and these characters.

Anyway, this is a sequel to Dear Jessie which is from Parmak's POV and can be found HERE

Note: This does feature C132 Parmak (Don’t know what that means? click HERE for the in depth but basically it’s an off canon version who’s different from traditional canon Parmak) and a LOT of headcanon made up stuff.

Summary: Ten years after moving to Cardassia Jack often finds himself reflecting on all the Good things in his life sure to keep his timers for them all. Two and a half kids, one Kelas, and a perfect morning in the garden, and he still can't quite believe it's all real.

Warnings: Fluff to the max, intersex Parmak who's pregnant in this story, talks of Jack's mental, impulse control, anxiety, augment issues, Jack's POV so it's very stream of conscious and Julian still doesn't come off too well because it's Jack's POV, past bad parenting and implied child abuse, Alternate Reality (mainly the same universe but averted Dominion War and some characters meeting under different circumstances), brief sexual content too

So if you wanted a sequel, here's your sequel :)

Juggling was one of the first things that he learned to do when he became aware that he was “different”. His father used to have all sorts of euphemisms that he would use aside from “different”. His father, his mother, any number of black and whites rushing around the busy house like one of the old gala scenes in the movies that he used to enjoy watching. His father would also say that juggling was a Supreme Waste (capitals!) of the gifts that he’d been given and Jack - Jack of all trades he liked to call himself using his middle name instead of the dull old John J”-  said if the old man paid all that money he could do anything he wanted and if he didn’t sleep he’d have more time. The old man didn’t rightly have an answer to that one, Jack winning, counting the score down as he learned to juggle eleven knives at once by the time he was thirteen.

Time, time was something the old man used to rail about. Brevis tui tempu est his old man would drone at him while his mother smiled and told him to listen because the old bastard was very wise. He’d go on about a lot of things often, frequently, all the time Very Loudly until Jack started hiding from him considering the matter of time on one of the high branches of the old oaks where they couldn’t easily reach him; at least not until they cut every one of them down. Jack considered that mutants like him should live longer if anything. But the old man didn’t like his Truths contradicted firing decrees from behind the old mahogany desk like a God himself. That desk was huge, austere, like the old man himself all dark eyebrows, dark eyes, sometimes turning into some giant owl in his vision or morphing to The General telling how some animals were more equal than others.

Jack was more equal than others. Jack was special. Jack was the investment of a lifetime buy sell buy till the old man jumped out the window just like one of those old fat cats in the twentieth century. Didn’t jump so much as pushed but that wasn’t anyone’s business but Jack and God’s and there was no God so it was Jack’s and Jack’s alone, damn right! Ah, amend that amend that, his business was his bondmate’s business too. Bondmate, husband, jailer warden, ah no, Incorrect thought with a capital “I”. Those Incorrect thoughts are fewer and fewer nowadays. Correct thought: Kelas is… everything. Kelas, Jessie, Kiss, and-

“Focus.” Jack hears the child’s voice and looks down, seeing his oldest looking up at him and he sets down all four of the large pots he’s been juggling, one after the other onto the sand. Jessie is nearly five now and is old enough now that ze recognizes when Jack’s mind needs to be tugged back with a small cue; like now. Kelas taught zem that, his brilliant Jessie picking it up so quickly. Correction, he thinks as he looks over to Kelas kneeling in the sand next to Kiss (“Kiss” because Jessie couldn’t say “Kesya” when ze was first born) adding water to the white sand to make a castle little by little. Their  child and Jack’s goddamn genius – is he or isn’t he a mutant little smirk ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’- bondmate is four months pregnant with their third. “Theirs”. That’s the correction that he makes. He’s gotten much better at those Johnny on the spot mental corrections since he met Kelas over ten years ago.

Kelas looks over at him and there’s this soft little smile, this look on his face that’s identical to the one he gave him in the Replimat the day they met, when Jack said he was blind and that Cardassia needed better optometrists if he couldn’t tell the difference between Jack and Julian with those spectacles and... shit... God there’s no God, no proof for God except that smile.  Jack had yelled at him with a jump off the table and Kelas had just laughed and then Jack was right there in his face and he’d stopped and looked down because he was just a little taller than Jack but he could see that Kelas was looking at him not afraid but like somehow Jack’s outburst was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen… I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. No, that’s Keats, not God Jesus, Mary, and Joseph same difference!

Jack thrives on the exercise he gets in that sprawling sand garden, succulents and other desert plants like one of the Zen gardens he’s seen pictures of making it a magical place like falling through a looking glass and finding the gardens of Ginkaku-ji on the other end instead of Underland. Well missing most of the coveted trees but he and Kelas and their family have spent years building it beautiful and art brought to life any why couldn’t the old man pay for some natural artistic painting enhancement because he can speak every language he tries to learn but he can’t capture Kelas or his children in more than memories. Ah right, because life isn’t perfect and if it was it would be dull and Jack is Absolutely not dull. He’s the Best Daddy as Jessie says and Kiss repeats and their children aren’t liars so that’s that. Every morning he’s out here barefoot in his loose trousers -how novel is that for him of all people not to be wearing a shirt?- with katas, with tumbles, sweat drenched before the sun is too high and his pale skin in has to be doused and drenched in sunscreen. Jack hatessunscreen.

He usually walks around the city with his big black UV umbrella.

Sometimes Jessie likes to drag the rake through the sand to make the patterns in the sand of the shared garden; this one is more secluded, closer to their modest dwelling than the others. Sometimes ze and Kiss fight over the rake; sometimes Jack joins in too though more often than not Kelas thwaps his shoulder with a book and tells him playfully to behave. Kelas will raise the big tome kissing him long and sweetly behind it, those full lips begging to be bitten ‘til they’re flushed dark gray, It’s one of many games they like to play, kissing until one or both kids yell “Aha!” declaring they’ve been spotted. They laugh when the book lowers and Jack is red and Kelas is just beaming with his glasses half askew. They have endless ridiculous little games they play and Jack is always amazed by how Good this is. Jack doesn’t remember his parents ever… doesn’t remember old George and Martha ever… old swampy ever being anything but cold to each other snip snap at the table clattering spoons and little presses of napkins to mouths.

“Right here, Jessie Jess mmhm. Your turn?” he asks going to one knee, letting himself be knocked backwards when ze yells “yes!” because they’re outdoors and outdoors they can be loud as they want. He gives a good dramatic death yell as his back hits the ground, holding his baby close a moment as he falls. Almost five, Jessie always corrects him, not a baby, Four years nine months nine days ten hours five minutes three seconds... and Jack watches his mouth, ensuring that any kisses are Cardassian presses of two quick fingers – index and middle – to each other. Things around his mouth make Jack anxious because he wants to nip and that leads to gnawing, to biting and that’s only acceptable if it’s Kelas.

Sometimes Kiss or Jessie will give him little nips to the rings on his fingers to show affection and he… doesn’t know how he feels about that because it’s special and theirs but it’s not typical as Bashir says with those castigating hidden expressions that he thinks that Jack can’t see just like he says it isn’t healthy for them to see the marks and the blood when he and Kelas kiss hard but they don’t get upset, they only laugh at how silly yadek and his red mouth look and… and Jack is Careful, always careful with the two of them because he would sooner die than hurt them and Kelas will tell him that he’s too most conscientious delicate and it isn’t necessary to self-flagellate and if he doesn’t knock it off he’s going to start calling him “Dimmesdale” which is absurd because Kelas is no Hester Prynne in any sense of the character and he should understand that  it absolutely is necessary to be careful because he broke too many children when he was a child even if he didn’t mean it and-

“Focus.” Jessie repeats, this time with a tap to his nose giving him a terribly weighty look; Jessie takes “helping daddy fix his head” very seriously. Jack blinks and nods. That’s a very serious second warning there!

“Right! We’re going upside down today hm hm?” Jessie nods excited, scampering off him, jumping at Jack the moment he stands back up. Jack catches zem easily around the waist, his baby a little monkey climbing up his shoulders. The air on Cardassia brings him alive even if it is warmer than he’s used to. Kelas says with a face, a precious Kelas face that he makes when something irritates him - cute, so cute will always be adorable a hundred two hundred, Jack doesn’t care - that the air of Nokar is the purest most amazing smell. He knows that Kelas still thinks about going back, away from Central, away from the southern continents to the Steppe, to the cold and Jack thinks it’s the funniest thing that a Cardassian would long for the cold but he understands it’s so much more than that.

Kelas is a misfit, a mutant too but a damn perfect one and Jack will fight anyone who disagrees.

But for all the stares and the whispers - which he can hear, always hear with his enhanced hearing - Jack has never found a place more of a home than on Cardassia Prime. Bashir, passing normal Federation mutt, Bashir asked him if he didn’t miss all the comforts of the Federation, the food, the culture, the people who didn’t glare or condescend and a list that went on and Jack had an epiphany. It was brilliant. He wrote it down he was pleased, he read it to Kelas, he read it to Lauren and Patrick and Sarina and a full audience around an evening bonfire to cheers and chirps in fact. Bashir wasn’t a mutant passing as normal, he was a basic passing as One of Them. Jack didn’t read it to Bashir because Bashir wouldn’t get it and the hell with him anyway! Jack didn’t have a lifetime of Federation comforts. He had a prison, he had walls and bars and “do this do that step jump sit behave be Normal!” He had a lifetime of people backing away from him making the sign of the damn cross and ha joke’s on them, mutants aren’t vampires and he could still bite throats out no matter how much garlic they used!

Jack grins big, wide, toothy, vicious as he wants when he looks at his children, when he looks at his Kelas and there’s nothing, no drug, no “Federation comforts” no religion, nothing that could ever bring him the high that their fearless answering smiles brings him. He walks through the streets with every damn one of these Cardassian Morlocks meeting him with a level stare, a sneer, a challenge to prove that he’s their equal. They challenge him when he recites his poetry. They aren’t afraid to shove at him in the crowded markets. They’re not afraid of confrontation, they revel in it, every Sunday morning Jack going into the city to argue with the same old woman selling flowers about every damn thing in the world and no shrinking back when he’s loud, no “shut up” no “behave” no belts no smacks to the mouth nothing but the same irritated arguments that they fling at each other.

Jack keeps grinning like a damn idiot as he looks up, feeling Jessie putting small hands in his ready to be raised up to the top of Mount Parnassus to meet the fabled muses. Jack can see a bit of a tremble of zes arms, but he shouts encouragement, a babbling string at his little hatchling - Kelas says “hatchling” though not properly hatched but that’s pedantic so shut up Jack! - turns himself upside down, holding a count of five before ze flops, Jack catching zem easily, the both of them laughing. It’s a life he never dreamed that he could have and no amount of holofeeds of the “successful augment doctor” like old technicolor popcorn matinee propaganda reels could ever convince him that he and that stupid smiling thing would ever be the same. As long as he lives, Julian will never know what it’s like to have people afraid of him and fuck him anyway. The sharp sound of a clap catches his sensitive ears, head jerking, that instinct relaxing in a split second seeing Kelas applauding him.

Applause isn’t a Cardassian custom, occasionally chirrups or a stamp of feet signify massive approval but Kelas thought the gesture was novel when he learned of it and Jack sees Kiss following along after him when he sets Jessie down. His children love “doing acrobatics with Daddy” and he’s just in awe of how far ahead their development is without being augmented. He teaches the children in their little community they’ve built too and he’s not just biased when he says that Kiss and Jessie are the best of the excitable lot.

“That’s my Jessie Jess hm! Shoot off the guns like Buffalo Bill! There’s a cowboy hm hm! We’ll have you swallowing swords for Emperor Wu mmhm!”

“Ze’s going to be a doctor!” Kelas calls out emphatically with that irritated face.

“Then an acrobat doctor hm. Think if the money you’d pull in adding a few flips to your routine hm. Climb that Bashir beanstalk like a diving board hm hm hop skip splash!”

“Splash!” That’s from Kiss before diving into the half-finished sand castle an explosion of wet sand everywhere on both zem and Kelas. Kelas laughs even as he spits out a mouthful of sand.

“Ah, right, definitely sticking with my usual practice, I think,” he says brushing sand from his lap.

Jack is sure that his face hurts from smiling, Jessie running past him bowling clear into the mess, into Kiss with a yell of “Splash!” the two tumbling around with their little growls play fighting, a little tinkling of beads reaching his ears too as they clank together. Jessie is slim, all limbs like Kelas, a wiry little worm as the two of them wrestle. It seems that Kiss will take after him, stockier, strong - nearly as strong as Jessie at three years six months fifteen days five hours nineteen minutes three seconds. His head is a constant count of every moment of their lives because every atomic second passing by is one that he wants to be thankful for. Kelas suggested that when he told him about the constant numbers and figures and unwanted thought intrusions that he might fill the space with everything positive in his life that he wants to track instead- fill his head so full to bursting that there isn’t room for anything else. So he does.

His head is full of clocks of all colors, shapes, appearance, a clock to count his children’s’ ages, to track the time since he and Kelas met, the time since number three (working title “Seska” still in progress”) was conceived, the time since the community where they live was completed, the time since their petition was approved for Lauren, Patrick, and Sarina to be remanded to their care (take that Nursed Ratched!), and at least half a dozen other events, tracking, counting, numbers flashing but these are Good numbers. Good numbers, good thoughts, his mind is usually a jumble of thoughts, numbers, followed by blinking impulses, little hands that pull at his limbs, his arms and legs, his mouth and make his body sometimes act outside his thoughts. It’s those impulses that he knows make Bashir say that he’s unpredictable and Dangerous and sometimes those thoughts intrude and lock him still afraid to act at all until he can pull himself out of it.

He has one now but it’s not a violent one. He hasn’t had a violent one in years and that one had a very specific trigger. That one was Elim Garak and wasn’t his fault no matter what Bashir said. That was one of the worst ones. That was one of the last ones and Not His Fault! It was Garak. It was Garak’s fault and Jack hates that Bashir thinks it’s some alpha male posturing poppycock that’s completely beneath him but according to Kelas it’s not on his place to speak to Bashir on the wicked devil that he takes to his bed. (Le Démon ! - c'est un Démon, vous savez, ce n'est pas un homme.-that’s Rimbaud predicting the wicked Morlock centuries in advance!). Anyone who scares his Kelas like that… anyone who causes his Kelas to flinch like that, anyone who makes that flash of fear cloud over his eyes is a devil no ifs and or buts and they’re dead!

The first time that he saw Kelas look at Garak, stop, panic, swallow and nearly take a step back terrified he lost it. Jack blanked out. He didn’t think at all. His hand was already moving for Garak’s throat by the time Bashir had tackled him because Bashir wasn’t as fast as him or as strong as him and if it wasn’t for Kelas asking him softly to please forgive it they’d see just how dangerous an augment that he was because no one including him hurts the family he went through hell to have. They used to tell him that he didn’t have empathy, that he was a monster incapable of understanding other people and he almost, almost believed them, but if Frankenstein’s creature wasn’t a monster, if Jack could weep silently, his head buried in Kelas’ lap when Kelas told him softly what Garak’s old iron monkey on his back, what his old man had done that had made him have that fear then he... no... no bad thoughts, not now. This is a Good place and a Good day and those thoughts are banished.

When Jack has that unconscious impulse now it’s to join in that raucous and he turns to Kelas, seeing him shaking the sand off the top of the long sleeveless tunic he’s wearing. meeting Jack’s eyes a moment.

“Splash,” Jack says in a rush and he catches those blue almost violet eyes widen in surprise and his mind would yell at him careful careful but he’s already moving with his hands on Kelas’ shoulders pushing him back to the sand. His mind corrects, his enhanced reflexes able to catch up with that recrimination that caution he’s pregnant he’s old he’s delicate he’s… laughing as Jack lands on top of him. Kelas is laughing loudly.

“Ah I should have known you were going to wait until the sand was gone. You always love getting me dirty!” He exclaims with a laugh as Jack in a rush of expelled nerves puts his face into Kelas’ neck sure he’s getting sand in his own hair now.

Kelas reminds him at least twice a day that he won’t hurt him- that he may be over a hundred but that doesn’t quite mean the same in their years and in any case their skeletons are more dense and durable. Sometimes he demonstrates it. Sometimes Jack even believes him. Jack turns his face about to say something to that but Kelas is already turning, kissing him silly, breathless, swearing at him in that melodic Northern tongue that’s like a slip of hisses, or angry snakes circling his ears.

“…sorry,” he says instinctively because sorry is what they always told him to say when he Did Something and he said it so much he used to like to see how much of a curse he could put behind those words.

“No you’re not,” Kelas mutters, trying not to smile, his hands sliding sandy, gritty over Jack’s sticky sweaty back holding him there on top before Jack can scramble off. “Mmm but that’s alright, I think your punishment should be to finish what you started.”

“Yadek has one baby you can’t give him one yet, Daddy!” he hears Jessie yelling at him and that only makes Kelas laugh even louder, the lines around his eyes crinkling, ridges flushing darker as he just… smiles up at Jack.

“Ah well… perhaps we’ll have to wait then,” Kelas says not moving his hands from Jack’s back in the slightest. His hands are strong, slightly calloused with the work that he does in the lab with Lauren now. He kneads at the muscles with determination and Jack feels like he might pool into goo dripping, soaking into the sand or into Kelas. That’s an idea- totally perfect idea.

“That right hm? No making new babies til this one’s done hm hm?”

“Can’t have two at once,” Jessie confirms terribly seriously. Jack smiles while Kelas keeps kneading at his back. Well, his little hatchling may have a numerical point but there’s always room for more practice because number three took so long it surely was because they hadn’t practiced enough and number four… ah impractical meandering illogical thoughts but-

“Maybe if we make you into an ovipositor... I bet Sarina could do it,” He hears Lauren’s voice and doesn’t ask how long she’s been standing there because Lauren is like the wind flitting in, out, hot, cold, but always there in some form. He doesn’t say that she’s like his sister but he hears their neighbors calling her that without correction and it’s strange but it’s Good and there’s a counter running for the first time someone called her his sister: three years two months five days four hours eighteen minutes thirty four seconds…

“An ovipositor? Ha! You couldn’t make a Kranessan fly hm!” The Kranessans, he learned were famed for their elaborate zip lines through the mountain passes.

“And you couldn’t make old Jala a rich woman if you tried,” she fires back with an arch of her eyebrow holding out her only to have Jessie and Kiss rush past her towards their house. She shrugs with a sigh. “I’ll see that they get to their lesson. Mr. Gok is teaching today and…” She pauses there, letting the old familiar rejoinder slip away unsaid. It’s become more of a small joke between them now.

There’s buzzing that Jack hears just then and he watches as a large dragonfly double wings gold, glistening in the sunlight as it hovers into the yard. Ah, right the little attendance drone, one of Patricks dozens of creations flying, beeping, walking around their compound. The newly elected council’s relaxed restrictions on sedition and unlawful assembly years back were what allowed him and Kelas to work tirelessly into one of the first communal living spaces outside of Central. There were more that had cropped up always monitored for radicals but as more sprang up, as more shared spaces came with their family dining halls and sand gardens and families sharing the grounds outside their modest homes, the more accepted they were.

Ah acceptable as Northerner and outcast refuse but there was no better refuse and no better life and Jack reaches up to sign off on the PADD the dragonfly is holding that Jessie and Kiss will be in class today outside with the other children. He snorts thinking of old Jala and older Gisha (and how Kelas always gets so hotly indignant when he calls them that saying they’re hardly older than he is) always hovering around chattering whenever he and Kelas make love. He’s heard them over stone walls, through fences, once catching their eyes with a curious blink before they waved him on and that… isn’t Normal, he thinks but he sometimes catches other couples or other triads outside their homes together in some partly secluded space with little mind paid. Sometimes he’ll hear a rattle of beads and he can always tell when Jala and Gisha are jabbering at each other about whether it’s better or worse for fertility if one is silent or loud. Jala thinks silent. Gisha thinks loud.

Kelas is always loud and Lauren says the two of them have a bet each time on which it will be.

Jala has yet to win once, and Lauren lets them know she has her data prepared whenever Kelas is ready to go over their new formulations for perfume tonics they’ve devised – fragrant and flavorful particles that confer different effects when “scented” from the air. Kelas looks thoughtful as he hooks an ankle around the small of Jack’s back, pushing that swollen belly up against him completely undoing him.

“Thirty minutes should be enough,” he hears Kelas say thinking sand is a challenge and rough and irritating and sand is nice beneath his bare feet but a cruel menace elsewhere and his hands are already beneath Kelas’ hip with a hurried murmur of “other leg other leg,” getting to his knees. Kelas wrapping around him like a beautiful pale vine, his hair half out of it braid, those glasses already mussed. Jack thinks he hears some impressed click from the other side of the wood fence marveling at his augmented strength.

He prefers to take it slow, to savor every touch, every press of Kelas’ mouth to his chest, every sigh, every push into Kelas’ body and Kelas into his too. Time is short, so short but the longer he can drag every perceived moment out, the closer to immortality in a beautiful vacuum where seconds aren’t ticks but instead Kelas’ breaths and slow steady beats of his heart. Ah, but now time is a rush and it always surprises him how excited his body is for Kelas in ways it is for nothing else.  Ah, the old women think they’ve seen strength? They haven’t seen anything, Jack holding that full weight with one arm now panting, quickly tugging himself free from trousers, from undergarments. Kelas is already whining as Jack starts biting his shoulder ridges hitching the hem of his tunic up with that free hand, Kelas squirming into position, a loud breathy cry when Jack enters him halfway, readjusts with both hands on his ass like he weighs nothing, driving right deep to his center.

And for that moment, time stops.

[taya-ki]

Ok y'all that's it I'm infected I've gotta draw.. adorable cardassian kids..