oh and here’s the inks. i bet that hand’s not doing anything weird. you’re weird for thinking it is. probably just doing normal hand stuff, like crochet
May I present to you quite possibly my (new) favorite Garak/Bashir fan video of all time?
Kindly and marvelously put together by Peff Soulsby, this is a supercut of Garak saying “Doctor.” Which is MANY MANY times! And tells the story of their whole relationship really.
It’s been quite a while since I contributed anything to AO3, but after receiving some kudos and comments on a podfic I recorded some years ago, decided I wanted to go back and (finally!) record the third part of an incredible series set in the Deep Dish Nine AU.
“Complementing Baggage” comes after “Disconnect”and“Splice” in the “Rewiring” series (link to storiesandpodfics) and like those two, packs a powerful emotional punch. (If you’re a fan of “The Wire,” this series is required reading, even if you’ve never delved into the AU.)
I have so far posted 2 chapters of the story’s 16 (original fic is 36K words) and will post another soon. I will be adding chapters every few days.
TW: mention (no explicit details) of past childhood abuse.
Wendy
P.S. Thank you VERY much to @tinsnip@kittyknowsthingsand@ladyyatexel for allowing me to recorded and of course for their amazing writing. This series is honestly one of the most powerful DS9 fics I know of.
So I’m again having an urge to write a Garashir song fic, possibly a series, based on Depeche Mode songs (think Violator, Songs of Faith and Donation, that era). Set both in regular universe and in Deep Dish Nine AU. Convince me I should? Haven’t written Garashir or any fanfic for ages.
Picture this: You are young and charismatic and very intelligent and you are so, so alone. Through no fault of your own, you have had the responsibility of a secret balanced upon your shoulders. It’s not your secret, not really, you never had a choice in the matter, but if it gets out your life will be ruined. So, from childhood, you’ve known you couldn’t let anyone too close.
But you are young. You are young and weighed down with secrets and you meet a man who wears his deception like great gilded armor. You don’t know what lies beneath, but you watch him stroll through the Promenade and you know as well as he does that he is untouchable.
You have lunch once or twice a week. You trade novels and sharp remarks and at some point you realize you know him better than anyone else on the station. You realize you don’t know him at all.
You know he thinks he knows you. You know he doesn’t know you’re lying.
And then suddenly he’s fading in front of you, maybe dying because of his secrets and you realize all at once that he was never wearing armor. He’s like you, forced to tell lies since before they could fit properly into his mouth, and at some point someone took the loose ends and wove them into a cage.
There is a man in your life who is just like you and he is dying in your care. He tells you stories of his life and you know none of them are true, you know there are some secrets a man carries to his grave. He tells you stories and you can hear the truth in every word and you can’t help but ask him why he’s telling you all this.
He looks you straight in the eyes, the bastard, and the answer rolls off his tongue, smooth as honey, soaked in fear he dare not speak aloud, I need to know that someone forgives me.
You know this man better than anyone. You do not know him at all. He has bared his soul to you and he was lying through his teeth. You look at him and see yourself and you make a decision.
