#star trek ds9

[batasanart]

Come back to draw them for a little canon celebration 💞🎊

[rychuart]

in light of recent events, thinkin about garak

(traced from screenshots but the coloring was freehanded. i wanna be able to draw him freehand but i struggle to draw anything these days and drawing something based on a real persons face without exact reference is even harder for me.... how do people do it)

[master-of-the-game]

Commission for @iamthesunandtheair Thank you for ordering. It is always interesting to draw different visions of Garak :)

[jone-slugger]

Low quality meme to encapsulate my feelings atm

[aismallard]

lmao, this is so perfect

And it absolutely fits, like how else can you hear something like, "Urgh, you let your FEMALES wear clothing? And speak?" and imagine anything other than incels.

remembering when the something awful forums made a word filter that changed the word "females" so it was surrounded by Ferengi emoji (we called em 'smilies' not emoji back in the day) so it looked like this:

because someone was sick of incels using the word to refer to women

[captainjimothy]

the thinggggg the thing about kira and jadzia is that. jadzia is so so so full of joy and the measured, steady, unshakeable optimism of someone much older than she is. but she wasn't always like that, she was a lonely, anxious, nerdy kid who "grew up" 300 years in the span of a single medical/spiritual operation. and a big part of that experience was the dedicated training she got towards knowing herself, knowing her needs and desires and how to meet them, so that she wouldn't get drowned out by the rest of dax. right

and she comes to ds9 and she meets kira, a lonely, anxious fighter who was an adult by the time she was 10, who never had the opportunity to know more about herself than what was strictly necessary--that she is strong, that she makes a good leader, that she can do anything she sets her mind to. but she never figured out what she might like to set her mind to, because freedom was the only thing it was possible to want.

and jadzia sees her old self in kira's face, in the bowstring-tight lines of her, and jadzia takes her by those aching shoulders and says Hey. do you want to know yourself? do you want to know what joy is? do you want to play?

[dreamerdrop]

please talk to me more about CSA survivor Julian Bashir and the myriad of ways that could have been revealed in canon to the horror of everyone else on the station.

[the-maddened-hatter]

[whatyouvegotunderyourskirt]

It's a fucking masterpiece.

it’s my own goddamn joke but this part of the DS9 ytp i made like a year ago still gets me every single time

[searchingforserendipity25]

hypothesis of care

afterwards, julian washes garak's hair.

standard procedure, after brain surgery. most saurian bodies tend to be too fragile for sonic washing after being operated upon, and he doesn't know enough about cardassian anatomy to be sure, only to avoid any shifts in body temperatur.

warm water, nearly scalding. there are clusters of blood where garak had pulled strands by the root in his agony on the third day of in internment, older spots and crusts, from different fits of pain - some scarring, where his claws had dug and pulled.

he doesn't heal any of it. garak had resisted medication and care and sedation and pain relief as much as he could stand, every step of the way; he wouldn't appreciate it.

he leaves it be, the same way he leaves a small, fine scar, though it would be the easiest thing in the world to pass the dermal regenerator over the line where he cut upon his friend's skull.

if garak wants to remove it later, he can - well, he may not be able to ask for it, but julian is fairly certain he has a regenerator of his own hidden away. he won't take the choice from him. he wouldn't have, even if he hadn't met enabran tain.

he didn't need to be an expert in cardassian physiognomy to note the similar width of the aural ridges, the same tilt of the chin when speaking in mockery. and the mannerisms, the grooming-tells, the affable malice.

garak wore it better, julian had thought at once, a sharp proprietary surge in the part of him that was not noting his odds of success, odds of survival, noting the vile pride and disdain tain held for garak, as a master to a favored slave fallen to disfavor.

he has rarely hated a person more, with such a clean and potent loathing. it is always easier to hate other people's cruel fathers.

julian bashir could talk anyone's ears off on biology and tennis and medicine, and often did; it could be very convenient, being remembered for that, and not much else.

months and years tending to mostly bajoran patients, working with mostly bajoran professionals most days. he had lunch with the only cardassian on the station once, twice a week, visited him, oh, an unsuspicious amount of times in his shop.

pity wouldn't be tolerated. it wasn't generally; no one wanted that from a federaji doctor. the truth of the matter was that the rot was dug deep, too depth to unroot.

the truth of the thing is that he read the old kardassi classics, and he could see the beauty, the shadow, the shadow of the idea that had once been cardassia, before it sickened to a rot that made sons into owned claims and all the wide sky's horizon too.

garak's medical readings had suffered, in his absence, a little worse than he had expected. not for any lack in the care given by nurse jabara, as much by what julian hypothesizes is a - an awareness of skinship, to some degree.

first, a careful rinsing, then a sterilization soap. careful, careful. he wore no gloves, didn't trust the material not to snag.

garak's hair is much thicker than it seems, not feather-like at all but thick and slick and only slightly more malleable when damp.

careful, with care, he pressed the edge of a soft cloth to the sides of his face to catch the last dampness, and pulled up a thick blanket, folded beneath his chin.

his shallow breathing gains a new ease and a new dimension, not quite a humming sound. even his vital signs improve by small increments, as julian goes about his ministrations - most species do benefit of some baseline level of touch, some level of trust.

now that julian has given him a forgiving grasp, it may be instinct to seek it out again. he doesn't doubt garak will seek to stifle it ruthlessly, when he's awake.

but for now, julian contents himself with a prickling pride, a pet hypothesis proven correct. sits himself down by the familiar bedside chair. close enough to leave a hand near the blanket, not quite touching, only giving heat. that will be a choice, too, though he's not holding his breath on that account.

he doesn't need to, to have lunch with him twice or thrice a week, a smug and sanctimonious and provoking presence across their small feasting table.

'alright,' doctor bashir says, peering down at his tablet left waiting in the same place it had been, before his brief sojourn.

an eye and two ears attentive to every reading animating his medical machines, but not unduly alarmed. the end of the vigil, and there is no reason to believe it would last longer than this night.

'where were we? i can't even tell with these repetitive pieces. alright, so it's the fifth generation of the bedrin family, and shockingly, not a one of them has yet sacrificed their loves and aspirations for the state, they'll get there eventually but i have a good feeling at least one of these witty cousins from lakar will be subversive about it -"

julian doesn't move away, doesn't press, doesn't impose. garak turns towards the warmth. even in sleep, he does that.

[galaxyqueerst]

This is maybe the funniest DS9 meme I've come across and I'd love to be proven wrong

[defconprime]

[scelesticgalimatias]

Such cutiesss

I really don't care where we end up as long as we're together.

[the-great-unikitty]

Here's another :)

[master-of-the-game]

Commission for @longsleevelaceration

Thank you for ordering a picture with such interesting composition and idea! Pure pleasure to draw.

For ordering a commission, check the link