#he's such a horrible patient

[bananas-mode]

I know this scene has been redrawn a million times over but I had to

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Let Nico say frick

[mediumgayitalian]

“Sit down, Solace, you pain in the ass, I’ll get it.”

Will huffs moodily, trying in vain to continue hobbling towards the cupboards against the infirmary wall. Nico has to physically wrestle him back to his cot, which in theory should be way harder, but luckily he’s weak enough from the pain meds that once Nico manages to shove him against the cushions, he can’t get back up.

Ha. Karma.

“You can’t get it,” says the most dramatic drama queen alive, dramatically, “on account of you not know what ‘it’ is.”

Nico smiles patiently. It resembles, to the outside eye and perhaps the inner one also, the bared teeth of a grinning shark. “Tell me, then.”

“No.”

“Then tough shit for you.”

“I’m just gonna wait until you’re turned away again,” Will calls against his retreating back. Nico flips him the bird. “So this was futile, really.”

He’s stubborn, but he’s not an idiot, Nico reassures himself. Surely, the many years — formative years — he’s spent as head medic have made him smart. Surely, Mr. Nagging Nag shall heed his own advice, lest the entire camp descend upon him in swathes of shrieking, not quite righteous fury, intolerant or hypocrisy. Surely.

He hears the creak of a rickety bed, a thunk of something hitting the wooden floorboards, and a soft oof.

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply.

For fuck’s sake.

When he turns around, he sees William Andrew Solace, Best Healer in Generations, Paraded Progeny of Apollo, Also Notably Naomi Solace’s Son, That’s Kinda Sick, Isn’t It, sprawled on the floor, ridiculously long limbs outstretched, attempting to wiggle across the floor to the cupboards.

“Solace, I am going to kill you.”

“Some healer you are,” Will mutters, as if Nico is not playing healer right now purely because he is the only one in the entire camp with a half a chance of wrangling the dumbass head medic himself. He continues to wiggle.

Wrapping a hand around his uninjured ankle, Nico drags him bodily back to his cot, ignoring the shrieking.

“One day on bedrest, you dipshit. One. Day. That is all anyone is asking if you.”

“My binder!” he insists, because he is difficult. “I don’t need to sit down and do nothing, I need to run my infirmary!”

“You need to sit the fuck down and heal your body before it schedules healing for you,” Nico snaps. “For fuck’s sake, Will, does it matter to you at all that other people would like to see you safe and healthy, even if you couldn’t give a shit?”

For a glorifying moment, Will stares at him, eyes wide, face frozen. Nico meets his gaze, glaring, his own chest heaving where Will appears to have held his breath.

Then, Will bursts out laughing.

“That!” he says, wheezing. “That is what I have been trying to nail through your thick skull! Karma, you little turd!”

Mouth opening, and closing again, it’s Nico’s turn to freeze.

“Oh, gods.”

The horror in his voice is tangible. Will laughs harder.

“Oh, gods, I’m becoming you.”

He stumbles to the closest cot, sitting down quickly before he gets any dizzier than he already is. Nausea builds up his throat.

Gods, that was a direct quote.

“Not so fuckin’ easy to wrangle you clumsy shitheads, is it!”

Nico cradles his head in agony. No. No! It can’t be! He refuses to lend any credibility to Will’s mother-henning! He is obnoxious, and overbearing, and hell-bent on restricting Nico’s freedom; there is no way Nico is emulating him right now, because that would mean he has a point when he’s bossing Nico around, and — no. Cannot be.

“I told you,” Will says, smug as a godsdamn rooster in a hen house. (Oh, gods, now his stupid cowboy idioms are ringing in his head? He needs to spend less time with Will. Better yet, he should take another dip in the Lethe — willingly, this time. Anything is better than this.) “You clumsy fucks are the sole reason I am going to die from stress-induced heart failure at twenty-two, and then I am going to resurrect myself as a ghost through sheer stubborn will alone to haunt each and every one of you for eternity.”

Nico chooses to focus on the part of the sentence that he can conveniently argue with. “You don’t get to call anyone a clumsy fuck, on account of you shattering three bones in your ankle because you stomped your foot too hard when you were trying to make a point.”

“What was the point I was trying to make, again?”

Nico keeps his mouth shut.

“Something something reanimating entire dragons to scare the shit out of Cecil is going to drain you to dangerous levels of energy and make me have to drag you from the brink of death yet again something something.” He pauses. “Even if it was really funny and he nearly actually pissed himself.”

“Well, whatever,” Nico says, elegantly changing the subject. “You’re an idiot, and if you don’t let yourself heal than you’re worse than the rest of us and can never lecture us ever again. So. And I’ll rat you out, too, they’ll believe me.”

Will glares at him. Nico glares back.

“Get some rest,” Nico orders, still glaring. Will pulls a face and repeats his words back to him, mockingly.

“There’s a difference between me and the rest of you idiots,” he grumbles, petulantly ripping loose the blankets and shoving himself under them. Nico smacks his hands away, tucking them around him for him, checking his pillow, and then his forehead for good measure, just in case his stupid ass somehow gave himself a fever. Will squirms, just to make things difficult, so Nico, as acting healer in the room, has to smack him. “I can feel my limits.”

“And yet you pirouette right on over them. I think that makes you worse, actually.”

Will, son of the god of truth, has nothing to say to that.

“Stupid,” Nico says, fondly, squeezing a gentle hand in his cheek. “Sleep, okay? You can go back to being dictator of the infirmary when you’re healed.”

“Tomorrow,” he insists.

Nico rolls his eyes, smiling, and pulls his hand away. Will darts out and snatches his wrist before he goes far, eyes pleading, and Nico caves immediately. Will’s skin is warm, and smooth.

“If you’re healed by then.”

He traces his thumb across Will’s freckled cheekbone, shivering slightly as his long eyelashes tickle the tip of his fingerprint.

“Mhm.”

He’s already puffing out small, quiet snores, head lolling against Nico’s hand, body exhausted from working overtime to try and heal.

Shaking his head, Nico ducks down, pressing a kiss to the space between his eyes before pulling away. He watches him for a moment, peaceful, face smooth and un-creased, delicate cupid’s bow pink and poised, skin spattered with paintbrush freckles. Heart skipping, he can’t resist another quick peck, lingering, at the top of his nose, the middle of his cheek; again at the dip of his brow. It furrows, briefly, under his touch, before relaxing again.

“Goodnight, Will.” He brushes a knuckle over his cheek. “Thank you, you dork ass.”

[rexonalapis]

People relegating Sige to being 'Wrio and Neuvi's daughter' miss out on the awkwardness and comedy of Wrio trying to get close to what is technically his Matron's kind of an uncle/old friend of family. Who is also old.

fellas is it gay to rizz your mother figure's mother figure? asking for a friend.

[finefett]

howling at shockwave's extremely disappointed stepfather energy

[maikhiwi00]

SENTINEL PRIME in

TRANSFORMERS ONE 2024, dir. Josh Cooley

[nowritingonthewall]

I’m just begging you: Don’t make us go there again.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

so of course I then thought about Impa some more, and about how the way I write impa is: everybody around her is like this all of the time

[stuffedsand]

for the violence ask game: 8 common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about. for milgram. i know exactly what you're going to say i just want to see you go off again

Hiii bestie. You do know what I'm about to talk about. Yippee

Disclaimer that this whole essay is like. For fun and how I say things is ramped up to be funny. I don't mind if you disagree w me cuz like that's the nature of things! We disagree but we can get along.

Anyways short answer for people who don't wanna see the essay: organ harvesting theory. This is about shidou.

Idk how prevalent it is rn since not many people even talk about shidou but it was prevalent enough in June when I got into milgram that I believed it for a bit anyways the rest in under the cut cuz I'm insane sorrg

SO the main reason I think the theory is WRONG (hyperbole‼️) is because I just think it's unrealistic. Man works in a hospital in Japan. How would he pull it off. Scuff an operation bad enough to cause braindeath/death and I'm p sure they suspend your medical licence, if he participated in an organ harvesting operation pre-family-accident his case would then be black and white cuz he was doing it in complete sound mind with no regard for human life. Also it wouldn't justify the extreme reaction he's had to realizing, specifically, "what I've been robbing people of" (t1 voice trailer), and he wouldn't have as heavy a focus on the relatives' feelings and reactions. At least story writing wise it'd make less sense since it doesn't allude to anything if that's the end goal? Imo at least. Idk maybe this is because I really like tragedies in media. Also because it'd be a really disproportionately severe crime compared to every other direct murderer???? Like. We have strangled someone, stabbed someone, bludgeoning, bludgeoning, kicked someone to death. Organ harvesting looks cartoony in this context. It's also not a very prevelant issue in Japan iirc.

Also to prove my point further. If we use this theories the murders would be

Strangling, abortion??????, cyber bullying, stabbing, organ harvesting, toxic r/s, telling the truth (lmao), bludgeoning, bludgeoning, bludgeoning (minus weapon). Organ harvesting is goofy cuz it seems so.... Extreme,,,,,,,

ALSSOOOOO funny point. If he's not directly involved in his murder (as in, unintentional and indirect) that makes 5 direct and 5 indirect. Silly.

Also also his murder seems somewhat tied to how he feels about his job itself ("I wanted to contribute to society (about his career choice)/I had thought my work was a contribution to society", use of past tense) and to me it reads like hes disillusioned w his job esp since his reason for getting a highly sought after, high paying and high social ranking job is "I wanted to contribute to society". Doctors with that empathy can be affected by the death around them more severely and I think that's a fun topic to look at

I count this under "common fandom opinion" cuz it was common enough around June (whenyours truesly got into milgram) that I believed it. I mean I introduced shidou to my friend (hello clown) as "maybe Dr malpractice. Organ harvesting dude" and said friend (hello again clown) is also the one who's heard me bash the organ harvesting theory like 6 times at least now so. Yippee.

Take none of this seriously I just got off a plane and am so very eepy. If you like the organ harvesting theory good for you!!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥 you do you bestie !!!!!!!!!!!!!! I literally do not think less of anyone who believes that theory I just personally dont lmao

[lord-squiggletits]

Something else that makes me sympathetic to Pharma's situation is like. Idk if there's an actual term for this or if someone smarter and more academic wrote it about some real life context that actually matters.

But, so we've already established among Pharma stans that the circumstances at Delphi were blackmail/torture with no real way out that wouldn't involve Pharma being responsible for people getting killed (either killing patients for the deal or having everyone die bc he failed his end of the deal).

And I feel like while "he's still in the wrong because he killed people" is part of it, another sort of implicit part is the idea that Pharma should've been willing to take more personal risk, maybe even risk dying? I mean, Ratchet does ask "why didn't you just detonate it near the DJD" (to which Pharma responds that he did try to get Sonic and Boom to do it, but they refused) so like

Idk I feel like we do have this social notion of martyrs as a very romantic ideal, people you can praise for being so brave and strong and righteous that they ended their own lives for their cause, while you can also coo about how sad and tragic it is that dying is what it took for them to do the right thing. But at the same time I feel like in reality, having an expectation that people become martyrs is kind of a toxic social norm bc like. It's very easy to demand that others sacrifice their lives for some Ultimate Moral Good when you yourself aren't experiencing the same hardships as they are. And ultimately it is kind of fucked up to tell someone "the moral thing you should've done was risk your life/kill yourself" because asking someone to pay their life to do the right thing is no small request. And sure, the typical response would be to call them a "coward" for caring more about saving their own skin instead of doing the right thing... but again, death is a really scary thing and self-preservation is a really strong instinct, so it kind of feels like having this binary view of "you're either a Brave Hero who sacrifices your life for everyone else or a Dirty Coward who's too scared of dying to do what's right" is kind of fucked up?

I guess the best way to describe it is that if someone willingly gives up their life as a sacrifice to others, it can be a noble thing because it's a choice they made willingly, but if it becomes a Moral Standard that in order to be a Good Person you have to be unafraid of throwing your life away and if you aren't willing to die you're a Cowardly Bad Person, that's when it becomes toxic.

Idk, I guess how this ties back to Pharma is that he was never in a position where he expected to make these kinds of moral decisions/ultimatums. He's a doctor who doesn't even get into combat, his job is to heal and not to kill, he's behind the front lines in a hospital that's supposed to be a safe, neutral place for him to heal people. So in the face of suddenly having a "murder people on behalf of me, or I murder everyone you swore to protect" ultimatum thrust upon him, I understand why Pharma wasn't """"""""""brave enough"""""""""" to "do the right thing" (whatever that would've been in the case of Delphi). You could argue that maybe a frontliner soldier accepted the burden of possibly dying for their cause and they've become used to it as someone who lives that reality every single day, but I feel like for Pharma, who's a doctor and a protected non-combatant (from what we can tell), that sort of risking of his life/living with the fact his life could be snuffed out any day isn't something he would've been prepared for at all.

And for me personally, from an outsider's perspective, it strikes me as kind of unethical to go "oh well he should've just detonated the bomb himself even if it killed him" bc again, there's a difference between witnessing a moral conundrum as a bystander versus being the person living with it and being under time pressure where it's do-or-die. Just as part of my personal standards, I feel like death is such a huge consequence/burden of someone's actions (literally you are no longer alive, any potential you had left is cut short, you cease to exist on this plane) that it feels rather callous to go "Well you should've just been willing to die for your beliefs if you really cared that much!!!"

[xythlia]

my bf being a therapist is actually really enlightening because I've learned a whole lot about how to spot a bad therapist

[arcaneyouth]

post office task complete despite everything.

[irregularbillcipher]

also found a doodle of kryptos’ “suspiciously unmarried uncle” who i mentioned in my post yesterday. dont think he’s ever gonna show up in my fic proper, but he has been mentioned twice so far, and a few times in future chapters— he’s the one who sends andy birthday money

[banapricot]

Just watched Half-wit. House let everyone, including his best friend of 20 years, think he was dying so he could get drugs. I want to hit him on the head with a hammer. and also make someone hug him because it seemed like he thought nobody would actually be upset about him 'dying' - again, INCLUDING HIS BEST FRIEND OF 20 YEARS. Babygirl you need sooooo much therapy. Not from me though I don't wanna deal with you. Clearly the writers don't either because they never let him get better they just keep making him more miserable for our entertainment.

[youngpettyqueen]

2 garashir 👀

lessee 2 is... sick! YES. GARASHIR SICK FIC BE UPON YE I looooooove a good sickfic tysmmmmmmmm

please enjoy alien flower shenanigans, Julian being a big baby, and Garak dealing with the mortifying ordeal of loving somebody and wanting to be soft for them

"Doctor," Garak says, lovingly, patiently, with a smile, "You need. To eat."

Julian, lying amidst the tangle he's made of his sheets, pouts at him like a disobedient child and says, "Don't wanna."

Garak counts to 3 and reminds himself that he loves this man very much. "Julian," He tries, sweet as honey, "You haven't eaten a thing all day, and it's dinnertime. You need to eat to build up your strength, or else you're going to end up in the infirmary on a nutrient solution," He reminds him, "What would you rather have, a nutrient solution, or this delicious soup I replicated just for you?" He holds the bowl up invitingly.

Julian scowls at him, the way he always does when he knows that he's right. The sight is usually amusing, but right now, with Julian's face flushed red as Earth tomatoes with fever and every part of him soaked with sweat, it just looks... well. Pathetic.

"...Soup." Julian mumbles petulantly.

Garak's smile widens. "There's a good boy," He says, which only makes Julian's scowl deepens. He shifts how he's sitting, moving closer to Julian so that he can get a spoonful of soup and hold it out to him, "What is it Mrs. O'Brien says to the little one? Here comes the airplane?" He hums.

Julian looks at him like he wants him dead. Even so, he blows on the spoonful of soup, then lets Garak feed it to him. His scowl softens, as Garak knew it would- it's a curry soup, one of his favourites- but he does make an uncomfortable face to indicate that the nausea hasn't fully passed.

Garak tries not to let his concern show as he feeds his doctor another spoonful. Julian came back from his latest away mission sick, after inadvertently triggering the defense mechanism of some sort of flower, which had stuck his hand full of thorns. Jabara told him the thorns were coated in some sort of toxin, which had infected Julian and left him delirious with fever and stuck at a dangerously high temperature. The antidote, synthesized from the toxin itself, has brought his temperature down enough that his brain won't boil, but the fever still stubbornly refuses to break, and Julian is still uncomfortably overheated nearly constantly. The toxin has been potent enough that Julian is still sick two days later, but he's slowly getting better with regular injections of the medication.

Even seeing Julian get better before his eyes, Garak still can't help but worry. Humans are so very prone to toxins, especially those of the fatal varieties, and Julian's augmented immune system can make things... unpredictable. Sometimes something will barely faze him, and other times it will hit him even harder than it would another Human.

"'S hot." Julian mumbles after another spoonful. There's a sheen across his forehead again.

Garak grabs for the cloth he's taken to keeping handy and gently wipes at his face. Julian's hair curls and sticks to his forehead, and he takes a moment to brush it away before it dries. "I know, dear," He says sympathetically, "But you won't eat the gelatin because it, quote, feels bad, and anything else turns your stomach. Soup is the only thing you've been able to keep down," He glances at the bowl, which isn't steaming, but he knows it's warm because he can feel the heat through the bowl, "I could always ask the replicator to make this cold if-" Julian makes a face, and he sighs, "Never mind, then."

Julian winces, looking very much like a little animal that's been kicked out into the rain. "Sorry..." He offers miserably.

Garak sighs quietly. He can't be annoyed with Julian when he's this pathetic. "You've nothing to apologize for," He tells him softly, "It isn't your fault you aren't well. Just a bit more, that's all I ask." He holds out another spoonful.

Julian hesitates, and Garak braces himself for an argument. But, then, Julian puts on his best brave face and eats. Garak balances the bowl on his lap so that he can dab at the doctor's forehead again as he feeds him a few more spoonfuls, getting about halfway through the bowl before Julian finally shakes his head and refuses another bite.

"I can't," He says, "'M sorry, I can't..."

"That's alright," Garak soothes, with a tenderness that would've turned his stomach a year ago. He's never been the softest of people, but this situation requires a certain gentleness. He's found, in the months since their relationship became official, that being gentle is easier when one is hopelessly and dangerously in love, "You did well. I know it wasn't easy." He sets the bowl aside on the bedside table, to be taken away and recycled later.

He turns back to Julian. "How's the temperature?" He asks.

"Hot," Julian groans, "God, it's so hot... are you sure it can't... it can't go lower?" He asks.

Garak can only nod. "I'm sure," He replies. The temperature in here is as low as it can possibly go. He's been freezing his tail off, even bundled in a plush jumper that Julian had gifted him, but he'll gladly suffer the cold if it means his partner might get some relief, "I could get another cold compress, if you like." He offers. He's been running so hot they only stay cold for a short period, but it's better than nothing.

Julian shakes his head. "No," He mumbles, "No, don't... don't want you to go." He reaches out blearily, fumbling through the tangle that is his sheets before he finds Garak's hand, which he weakly grabs hold of.

Garak can't help but chuckle softly. "Really, my dear, I'll only be gone for a moment," He gently frees his hand, and Julian whines softly and tries to take it back, to no avail, "I'm sure you can spare me for just a brief moment, if it means you'll be able to cool down a bit." He suggests.

Julian rolls over towards him, and Garak is hit with the full force of what he's come to know as the puppy dog eyes. An expression so named for how it resembles an Earth puppy, and for how completely disarming it is to anybody who looks upon it. Julian is very good at this expression, especially when he's feeling poorly.

"I don't want to be alone." He tells him, and his voice is so sincerely miserable that Garak can't even be annoyed at how ridiculous the sentiment is, because Julian would literally be alone for less than a minute.

"Alright," Garak concedes in a sigh, if only because he thinks Julian might actually try to get up and come with him if he insisted on going, which would only end in disaster seeing as how he's had to practically carry him to use the fresher, "Alright, I'll stay. But," He reaches over, rests his hand on Julian's cheek in a gesture of sickeningly sweet care, "If it becomes unbearable, I expect you to-"

Garak's hand makes contact and Julian shivers in response. He starts to pull away, alarmed, but Julian moves the fastest he's moved these few days to grab hold of his wrist and plant his hand right back against his face.

"Julian?" He prompts, way more concerned than he should be.

Julian sighs contentedly, rubbing his cheek against Garak's palm. "Cold." He says simply.

Ah. That would... that would make sense. The room is cold, and despite the jumper, Garak still feels as cold as ice. Were he on Cardassia he would be able to retain heat from the sun, but here on this station, getting warm is a hero's journey in and of itself, and it's nearly impossible to stay warm. Add in a room that is, to him, freezing cold, and he imagines he must feel like one great big ice pack.

He brings his other hand up and, hesitating only momentarily, he places it on Julian's other cheek. Julian murmurs happily, also grabbing hold of that hand and holding it in place. Garak can feel the fever heat radiating off of Julian's skin, and it feels... nice. Alarming, to feel that he's still so warm, but Garak is a simple Cardassian and he can't deny that the heat is pleasant to his frigid hands.

How hadn't he thought to do this earlier? He can forgive himself for the couple days prior- Julian's skin had been hypersensitive and anything rougher than his blanket had him gasping in pain, so Garak had scarcely touched him- but since yesterday that particular symptom had dissipated. He could've been doing this all day. It probably would've worked better than the multiple cold compresses that have hardly touched the burning fever that rages through his doctor's system.

"Better?" Garak asks, unable to help a smile. Annoyed as he is with himself, he's far more pleased to see Julian content and happy in his hands, a silly smile on his face as he squishes Garak's hands against his cheeks. He looks rather like a Cardassian who's found a nice patch of sunlight to bask in.

Julian nods. "Much," He hums, very nearly purring like a cat might, "Can you do this... forever?" He requests.

"You have an hour until I need to get your next dose." Garak replies.

"Aw," Julian whines. Garak just raises a brow ridge at him, and he relents, "Alright, alright," He sighs. Still holding Garak's hands against his face, he smiles again, and adds, "Sorry for being... such a handful."

Garak softens entirely, melting like he's been left out in the sun too long. "My dear doctor," He murmurs, his thumbs brushing over Julian's lovely cheekbones, "If I may borrow one of your sayings... you may be a handful, but you're my handful," He leans in, and presses a sweet kiss to Julian's forehead, "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

It's not particularly pleasant, kissing Julian like this. He's sweaty, and sticky, and the smell of infection hangs around him like a sickly sweet perfume. But it makes him smile, draws a raspy little chuckle out of him, so Garak finds he can stomach the unpleasantness. In fact, he finds he can stomach it enough to give Julian a kiss on the nose, just so he can hear that huffy little laugh again.

How hopelessly soft he's become. Not for the first time, he thinks it wonderful that the thought no longer makes him want to retch.

[kowaindar0u]

(nxmelessfighter) ⛄️ (sengo) 🍡 (fudou)

[ ☠ ― 𝑀𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. ]

⛄️ - What would be your muse's ideal weather conditions? Do they prefer being hot or cold? What's their favorite season?

I think all things considered Sengo probably likes late spring/summer/early fall simply for the fact that when it's too cold he's more inclined to put more clothes on and, well...

That said he doesn't hate the cold and likes the opportunity to wear cute sweaters and stuff on occasion. But it's unlikely anyone is going to want to undress in the cold 😞

🍡 - Can your muse cook? Can they bake? How well can they do either? Do they have any kitchen disaster stories?

Well... By the time he's in the citadel for a while he's probably been assigned to kitchen duty enough times to have some idea of how to make some easy stuff. But... That also means he's had time to fuck up a lot too. Spills, accidental (and ironic) slicing of the fingers, burns... but of course there's the time he wasn't thinking, grabbed a hot pan without a potholder and dropped it. The start from that sent him back and off balance, knocking into Souza, sending them both falling against the stuff on the counter and to the floor. The kitchen turned into a mess and so did Fudou, not to mention the burns on the pads of his hands. The citadel did something else for dinner that night lol