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Announcing the prompts for DS9 WEEK, to be held November 3-9, 2025!

DAY 1 - NOV. 3: Favorite Episode | Station-wide Emergency
DAY 2 - NOV. 4: Favorite Character | Quark's Bar
DAY 3 - NOV. 5: Favorite Relationship | From Different Worlds
DAY 4 - NOV. 6: Favorite Season or Arc | Diplomatic Negotiations
DAY 5 - NOV. 7: Favorite Quote | Secrets & Mysteries
DAY 6 - NOV. 8: Favorite Location | Alternate Timeline
DAY 7 - NOV. 9: Station Family | "These are my friends."

Use the tag #ds9 week on posts newly made for this event. Participate as much or as little as you'd like, use the prompts above or do something different, it's up to you!

All types of fanwork (fic, art, edits, meta, or anything else) of any rating are allowed, but please tag explicit content appropriately and put long written works under a "read more" or link to an external site. Do not create fanworks for this event using AI.

Please be respectful, kind, and have fun!

Hosts: @sirellas @lostyesterday

ds9week

DS9 week starts today!

Remember to tag your posts with #ds9 week. If your post isn't reblogged within 48 hours, send an ask to this blog with the link to the post.

#ds9 week

ds9week

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risingchaos

My contribution to DS9 Week, day seven prompt: Station Family

Feast of Stars A Deep Space Nine poem Link to it on AO3

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It was warmth. It was a filling, consuming fire that kept stomachs calm and heads pleasantly full. The chatter, absent, carried around the table as bowls were passed back and forth with a story lilting through the air, a memory being made to be stored and kept. The film would develop under the shine of the stars, written on and signed in languages familiarly foreign, shapes curling together to make their dining.

While the foundation was carved, the setting itself was woven from their own blood and heartache. From late nights where tears should’ve been given and sudden bouts of absence when it hit. From a laugh chiming through Quark’s and a smile rivaling Prophet Tears. From righteous fury birthed out of necessity, forged into a blade that tore and left scars on their psyches.

It was hell. It was beauty. It was friendship.

It was the reason they got up and kept moving, citrus to a cut, motivation toxic and needed. It was a biting chill, locked together with the realization of doorways shadowed by wings. It was the relief, that their meeting the dark wouldn’t be alone, and the guilt after at their solace.

And yet they continued, out of desperation or autopilot or determination or grief, they continued. They crept, footsteps out of rhythm but worth the discord because it meant they were alive. The breaking arm over their shoulder, the bloody handprint on their waist, it meant movement. So they continued.

And they would, until shot through the skull, for each other. That’s what made their tapestries. Not just their sheddings, but the new underneath.

The squealing, writhing mass of unknown cosmos inside their chests shouting to save everyone. Not just for themselves, but for one another. The blossoming sparks lighting up their spines, sending kindness to all in their net. It intertwined their neurons into a lace that draped over them, placemats and tablecloths.

The meal provided might have been mud and worms, yet with the company of each other, it just as well could have been for kings. It did not matter.

They were a brand new system, with a station as a home, and an ecosystem making for discoveries envied by most. That was all the food needed.

#fic

ds9week

Reblogged

thethirdromana

The Kids Are Alright

(Written for DS9 Week)

Molly is the first to get there, and that means she gets the joy of standing by the vast windows of the upper Promenade, waiting for the others to arrive.

When she was little, she took this view for granted. She didn’t live on a planet until she was nearly eight years old. Even now, when she looks out of a window, the first thing she expects to see is an uninterrupted field of stars.

The view here hasn’t changed, but the station has. The spiky Cardassian angles of its underlying architecture are barely visible now. The decor these days is all Bajoran: brighter lighting, lots more wood, plants growing everywhere. The air smells fresher. It’s not a war outpost any more. There was scarcely a whisper of security when her shuttle docked.

Quark’s is still there, of course, and that does still look Cardassian, late imperial Cardassian, which has a kind of edgy retrofuturist vibe now. Actual Cardassia looks nothing like it any more. The design isn’t actually vintage, because Quark has redecorated the place a dozen times since Molly lived on the station, reflecting a dozen different trends. But it looks convincing enough for the tourists who come through here to get their kicks remembering the bad old days, now that those days are far enough in the past for that to feel safe.

Of course, Quark himself isn’t here any more. None of their parents’ generation is. Quark is in the Gamma Quadrant on his moon, Molly heard from someone or other, and Odo must be with him. Auntie Nerys and Jake’s dad and stepmom are closest, on Bajor. Julian and Garak are on Cardassia. Ezri is on a starship goodness knows where. Worf is on Qo’noS. Nog’s dad and stepmom are on Ferenginar. And Molly’s mom and dad, of course, are on Earth.

The Best of All Worlds

(Written for DS9 Week)

The house in Cardassia City was warm and quiet. It was full of rich textiles – rugs, throws, tapestries – and the subdued lighting made them glow. In most ways it was utterly unlike the light-filled cottage by the waterfall where Benjamin lived on Bajor, but the sense of peace and tranquillity was much the same. Who would possibly have thought that these were the kinds of places where their lives would lead?

Benjamin realised belatedly that this was a thought he could voice aloud to Julian, and did so. There was still a part of him that was unused to this plane of reality, where thoughts had to be spoken to be heard, where effect followed cause, where time plodded along linearly.

“I never thought we’d live this long at all,” Julian replied, as if he hadn’t noticed the silence. “I didn’t think we’d survive the war. Where I might end up afterwards – still on Deep Space Nine, or on a starship, or here… I suppose I didn’t want to let myself think about it.”

Benjamin could hear the echoes of pain in his words, like a long-healed scar. Julian could not have voiced his fears when he felt them; it was only safe to consider what might have been in the knowledge of what had been instead. The difficult second act contemplated from the safety of the happy ending.

“I have to admit,” Julian added, “I never thought you would come back.”

The Art of Lying

(Written for DS9 Week)

“Lying is a skill like any other, and if you want to maintain a level of excellence, you have to practise constantly.”

It was an Obsidian Order maxim. Agents and trainees were encouraged to lie when it didn’t matter so that they could lie when it did. They lied when they knew they would not be doubted and lied when they knew they could not be believed. They lied when they said, “I’ll be home soon.” They lied when they said, “if you cooperate, we won’t hurt you.” They lied when they said, “if you turn him in, this will all be over.” And when they told themselves in quiet, guilty moments that it was all for the greater good of Cardassia, they lied to themselves.

Those weren’t the kind of lies Garak told any more, and he hoped that they never would be again. But old habits died hard, and so: he lied.

DS9 Week, Day 4 - Favourite (Character) Arc

I'm not good with having a limited number of favourites, but the reason I like the last stretch of season 7 is entirely thanks to Damar. What a journey he made!

#edit

The Kids Are Alright

The Best of All Worlds

The Art of Lying

DS9 Week, Day 4 - Favourite (Character) Arc

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