#I think it went well

[daily-beau]

Day 15: Their noble steed

[poppyflavour]

King Orange! Or rather Mango (Tango?? -v-'), he's healthy now

Also, I remade Purple

I think she looks better now

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I'm SORRY but,,,,, instead of Legacy accidentally injuring Reader, what if Reader accidentally injures Legacy????

Poor guy is always so careful around them!! Careful with his claws, with his sharp armour, with his inhuman strength. Such a teeny tiny wife person cannot protect themselves from him so he has to be extra careful!!! It does not even CROSS poor guy's mind that they're not all that unable-to-fuck-up either, especially with how they're sometimes prone to being a little absentminded

:))

I'll leave it you your deviously beautiful mind to come up with the details, and whether this is going in the angst direction (YES) or the fluff one (ALSO YES) but,,,,

😌😌😌 yeah

oh, you're devious for this anon,,, however i am feeling fluffy tonight so we shall be silly!!!

it happens, like many injuries do, entirely by accident. the day is warm and sunny, beetles chirping in the trees and only a few clouds drifting across the sky- it's the weekend, too, so you and Foul Legacy are sprawled out in the warm grass, soaking up as much sun as you can before you inevitably have to go back to work. Legacy purrs beside you, stretching his claws happily as his delicate wings glitter in the light. you can't handle as much sun as he can, though- sometimes you joke that Legacy is powered by sunrays and snuggles- and after a bit of dawdling you haul yourself to your feet and wander back towards the house to prevent yourself from getting overheated and lethargic, slipping through the unlatched door and idly giving it a quick shove so it shuts faster

there's a sudden CRACK and a pained screech, and your blood goes cold

Foul Legacy whines faintly as you rush back outside, holding his head and letting out little anguished cries- he had just wanted to follow you back inside! but you hadn't noticed, so the door slammed shut right in his face, making a small crack where it hit. there's no blood, thank god, but you can't help but murmur countless apologies as you gently massage around the area to soothe the pain, Legacy leaning into your palms with a soft whimper. the chitin will repair itself rather quickly, a gauze patch over the crack for good measure, and Legacy insistently buries his head into your lap once you get inside and sit down, craving more of your tender care. he doesn't blame you in the slightest, your shoulder already laden with the guilt of accidentally hurting him- until he gives your hands a quick, careful nip in retaliation, hiding his face in your shirt and shaking with growling laughs when you let out an indignant yelp

[bahoreal]

GOOD THINGS LADS. GOOD THINGS.

[loveydoveykris]

DISCO INFERNO

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

hoodie progress btw

[iunpackmyadjectives]

I love her with my whole soul

[youngpettyqueen]

Hi!!! You wanted fic requests from that prompt list right?

For the prompts, I think 5 and 65 go well together, so maybe something with those two and Julian/garak, if you want?

YES THANK YOU youre so right those do work really well together... love me some hurt/comfort time to inflict it on these two

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Look at me—just breathe, okay?”

Julian comes to smelling nothing but smoke and tasting nothing but blood.

He tries to open his eyes. Only one does. The other isn't cooperating- feels like it's glued shut. He finds himself looking out over the floor of the promenade. He's on the floor, then. On his stomach, from the feel of it, one arm caught underneath him.

Smell of smoke. Flickering lights. Everything's bathed in orange light. He can see flames, flickering in the corner of his vision.

Julian squeezes his eye shut again, trying to think. His head's pounding like a drum. He was on the promenade, he remembers that much. And he was... he was sitting. He was having lunch. But try as he might, he can't remember how he got to the floor. One second he was sitting, the next he was here.

The context clues make it easy to figure out. Smoke, fire, the vicious hammering in his skull. There must've been an explosion. Which means he's hurt. Which means a lot of other people are probably hurt. Which means he needs to get up, and get to work.

He starts pushing himself up to do just that, but he doesn't get very far. The arm that's caught under him doesn't want to cooperate, and trying to force the issue makes pain rip through his nerves like fire. He ends up buckling onto his side, gasping painfully. The pain centres at his shoulder, white-hot and stabbing- there's something stuck there, right under his collarbone.

Julian opens his eye again. This time, staring out across the smoking promenade, he can see somebody. He tries to call out, but his voice doesn't come, and the attempt leaves him coughing up a lungful of smoke. This does his injured shoulder no favours, and makes him aware of a deep ache in his ribs. He manages to roll himself onto his back to minimize how much he's jostling himself, bracing his ribs with his good arm, still coughing up ash and grit.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

"Doctor!"

A voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. A familiar voice, only his head is too scrambled to remember who it belongs to. He looks over, and sees the person he'd spotted hurrying towards him.

"Doctor!" They call again. And he realizes who it is, right as his beautiful face comes into view.

Garak drops to his knees beside him. His eyes are wide with alarm, while Julian can only look up at him and smile weakly. Maybe it's sappy, but seeing Garak makes things feel a little less awful.

"G-Garak..." He manages to get out, sounding and feeling like he's talking around a throat full of sand. He coughs uncomfortably, wincing slightly. Then, he remembers just why he was sitting at lunch, and his weak little smile grows as he throws out the accusation, "You're late."

Garak looks like he's on the verge of three different panic attacks. "Yes, well, how fortunate that I was," He says, his tone and his eyes not at all matching his joking words, "Otherwise I might have been caught in this, and then where would you be?" His eyes keep flicking to Julian's injured shoulder, confirming what he already knows.

Julian manages a weak nod. "There's something in my shoulder." He acknowledges.

"A sizeable piece of metal," Garak supplies him, since Julian can't see it, "And you've got a nasty cut on your forehead."

"I'm concussed," Julian adds, "And I've got some bruised ribs. Can't tell how many. They may be broken. Hard to judge the pain with... you know." He nods weakly to his shoulder.

"Oh, is that all?" Garak asks, his sarcasm sounding genuine, of course, "Any other injuries I should know about, Doctor?"

"I'll let you know if any make themselves known," Julian rasps, "Now, could you be a dear and- and hit my comm badge? I can't really move all that much." He admits.

"There's no point," Garak tells him, "Comms are down. So are transporters. From what I can tell, several bombs have gone off. Here, ops, at least one in the habitat ring, and maybe one in the infirmary," He gives Julian a grim look, "We seem to be in quite the dire situation, Doctor." He observes.

Julian huffs something that might be a laugh. "I'd noticed," He puffs out, "So, just you and me, then. Tell me, Mr. Garak..." He hopes his nerves aren't showing as he asks, "How are your medical skills?"

Garak's expression gives nothing away. "Subpar, compared to yours," He replies, "Though I suspect we have no other choice."

"None at all," Julian agrees, "Either you stop all this bleeding I'm currently doing, or I'm going to be in... quite a bit of trouble." He's already lightheaded. He hopes that's just the concussion.

"Alright," Garak nods, "Alright, yes. Yes. Stop the bleeding," He nods again, and leans back to start tearing at his tunic, "I can certainly do that." He continues, sounding like he's talking to himself more than he's talking to Julian.

Julian manages to raise a brow at him. "Garak."

"Yes, Doctor?" Garak doesn't look up.

"Try to sound a bit more confident," Julian suggests, "Makes patients feel... at ease."

Despite everything, Garak still manages to give him an unimpressed look as he tears a sizeable chunk of fabric away from his tunic. "I'll keep that in mind," He replies flatly, shifting in closer. His expression softens as his eyes return to what Julian is sure must be a grisly wound, "Now, I'm going to take care of you, ok? And I need you to advise me on the best way to do that."

Julian nods. "Of course," He agrees, "My shoulder needs immediate attention. You have to stop the bleeding there, but don't... don't remove the piece of metal," He advises, "Sort of... wrap that fabric around it, and press down on the wound. Try not to move the metal," He adds, "It might make the bleeding worse."

Garak listens intently, eyeing his task up. "Seems simple enough," He says. Then, with an almost... sympathetic look to Julian, he tells him, "I will have to hold you down, Doctor."

"I know," Julian replies, "It's going to hurt. I'm probably going to scream bloody murder." He warns him.

"You know I'd never want to hurt you." Garak adds.

Julian manages a faint smile. "If the choice comes down to you hurting me, or me bleeding to death, I hope you don't mind if I'd much rather have you hurt me." He murmurs.

Garak takes a breath. "Very well," He says, "Brace yourself, my dear." He shifts himself into position, placing himself in such a way that he can hold Julian down against the floor as he gets his makeshift bandage ready.

Julian gets to take half a bracing breath before the pain spikes. Garak moves in quickly, clamping down on the wound with both hands, and it feels like someone's set his shoulder ablaze. Julian screams like he's just been shot, instinctively trying to jerk away, but Garak doesn't let up on him. He's trapped, pinned down, and thank god for that, but he can't help but howl again as the piece of metal buried in his shoulder jostles with the movement.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Garak gasps, continuing to hold him down and keeping steady pressure on the wound. It feels like he's also holding onto the metal, keeping it still as best he can, "Look at- look at me, Doctor, look at me- just breathe, yes?" He tries, with a smile that is not at all convincing, "Just breathe. Try to breathe."

Julian manages to still himself, gasping shallowly and painfully, black spots dancing in his vision. "I have damaged ribs!" He manages to hiss out, "This is the best I can do!"

"I'm not exactly a trained professional!" Garak reminds him, voice pitched with anxiety, "I'm just saying what you always seem to say to your patients! What else would you have me say?" He demands.

"Just- just distract me," Julian gets out between gasps, "Tell me a story. True, false, doesn't- doesn't matter, just- just anything, Elim, please-" He begs. He's tempted to ask him to bash his head off the floor and knock him out, but he doesn't think that would help Garak's current state. He can feel his hands trembling against him.

Garak's eyes search his face, the panic in them clear and unguarded. And then, almost hysterically, he asks, "Did you know one of my first jobs was as a server?"

The absurdity of that question almost makes Julian forget about his current agony. Almost. "What?"

"Yes, I was a server," Garak continues, looking and sounding like he's flying by the seat of his pants, "A waiter, as you Humans might say. It was a fine dining establishment, only for the highest of high classes. Have I truly never mentioned this?"

"Never," Julian gasps, "Do- do go on."

"Oh, gladly," Garak takes one hand away from the wound in his shoulder, and reaches over to gently brush some of Julian's hair away from his forehead- looking at his head wound, "I served some very high profile individuals, including one you're all too familiar with," He starts gingerly probing around where the wound must be, and Julian grinds his teeth as he presses on bruising, "You remember our good friend, Gul Dukat."

"I wish I didn't." Julian growls, more out of pain than anything else.

Garak manages a chuckle at that. "How rude, my dear. I seem to be rubbing off on you," He observes, "But yes, I would serve our dear Dukat often. The man can't hold his liquor," He tells him, "It's rather embarrassing, actually. One time, he..."

And Garak continues to ramble, concocting a story out of thin air that holds absolutely no truth. Still, Julian hangs onto every word, clinging to them as he desperately clings to consciousness. Garak's hand finds its way into his good one, holding tight, and it stays there until help finally finds them.

[adrift-in-thyme]

FIRST PRESENTATION FINISHED

[nerdierholler]

Determined to read a little tonight to keep my streak going but I’m so tired I can hardly think straight.

[critterofthenight]

FREEDOM

[wulfhalls]

what was your exam on? Either way Viel Erfolg 🤍

reception of mesopotamian culture thru the ages 👍

[ghostly-werewolf]

i went to buy some berries today, in a bad mood because my damn neighbours won't let me sleep. and the lady selling the berries suddenly started talking about how good the cherries are, and how she made the best kompot out of them, but didn't have the time to drink it, and now it's waiting for her at home, all nice and cooled down. made my day better. hope she has a good, relaxing evening today

[princekirijo]

Second round interview done 0.0

[i-crave-chocolate]

⚡Forgottizane Flash⚡

[doonthestair]

turns out you can burn the everliving fuck out of eggs