#the askbox

[ciircuitangel]

Can u draw a transmasc one gijinka perhaappss👀

say less! transmasc one!

[ask-robot-flower]

Hey, Robot Flower! Um… status update? Please?

— @mechmindpreserver

people_dict[“mechmindpreserver”]

TV, a trusted friend, fellow mechanical mind. Very smart! Maybe plural?

return status

healthy, performance reliability stable

#I’m doing good

[identityandflowers]

I saw a lot of other people take questions on this app! It can’t be too bad. And I’m incredibly bored!

{rest of post is ooc}

HIIIIIII it’s ili from @idiotlaintelligent with a SECOND!!!!! Robot Flower RP blog. This one has my gijinka for her, and a little surprise! ;) I will draw answers to most asks here, so if you want quicker responses look to the sister blog @ask-robot-flower !! She follows canon more but it's still RF!

HEAVILY inspired by @starrydealmaker her blog is awesome!

Robot Flower uses she/her pronouns. This blog takes place in the current part of the TPOT timeline! Basketball is, in fact, erased.

OOC stuff is in these {} brackets!

On screenreaders: I do add alt text for the posts, but I should note I am not an expert on alt texting, so any image descriptions are appreciated.

Temporary Note: I still need to make a pfp please be patient, fully done art takes a long time for me!

Basic rules & headmate list

-No bigotry or radqueer or darkships or NSFW. Anti endos please DNI (To clarify, by anti endos I mean those that either think endo systems are disgusting or don’t exist)

-Ship asks are completely good, just for ones with Basketball I’ll have RF be uninterested since I view them as just friends. Also while Malfunctioning Flower (RF x Teardrop) is canon on this blog/AU, I am a multishipper. (I don't do romantic RPs tho)

-Anon magic and anon tags are allowed!

-There can only be three magic anon effects at a time. If there’s three effects, RF will have M!A immunity. (This is because I have a hamster brain and four is one too many)

-If I’m doing a reblog interaction with you, please tell me if you think anything has the potential to make you uncomfortable. I have trouble gauging what others think if they don’t directly tell me. If needed, I can dm you any reblogs and you check them.

Alters!!!

RF (she/her) - Host that we know because fronts the most, our sassy and identity issues ridden Robot Flower!! #it's rf!!!

Vender (she/it) #complementary colored

??? (she/he) #everything has consequences

???

???

???

What, thought you were getting all at once? No! heheheheheh

[smallnico]

favorite word?

mellifluous probably

[computer-science-and-tpot]

Hi Basketball! :)

- @thel0nelinessnumber

FUCK OFF!

{Don’t actually fuck off I love angst}

[idiotlaintelligent]

may I please see some of your OC’s?(hehe, Oc for Oc…)

My artfight has my three earliest OCs: Valerie, Goggly, and Rosie.

Valerie is a DW OC, and the other two are object OCs with actual names!!! Rosie's actually a tulip, and Goggly is a nickname that Gale prefers. For important notes, Goggly's nonbinary and both Goggly and Rosie are children and friends with each other.

There's also Orange Pony Bead (Real name Orion) and @c00lkidd-454 which is my selfsona (speaking about selfsonas there's also that fighting game one)

This photo has an alternate OPG version as well as Lipstick (transfem) and Yarn

There's also @amelia-the-bug. I think she counts

Everything after this, I have not made a solid color palette for. I will be going from most sure to less sure with color palettes. These color palettes are flexible, else I would actually make a color palette.

(The picture labeled skrunkle was drawn by my irl bestie!!!!!!! If she gets a Tumblr account I'll link it) Abbi has black converse with white soles, a black turtleneck, and a black, gray, and white flannel. They are very white and their hair color is an extremely light brown bordering on orange. She is also the bestie of the below OC, May (nicknamed Mace)

For the above OC, the right picture has the more accurate shirt and the left has the right shoes and face and hair. Her shirt was yellow with black accents, and she has light blue jeans. She is black with a neutral undertone and has black hair.

They don't have pronouns yet. The two left drawings have their actual shape. They're a shade of red.

If you want me to yap about any, PLEASE ASK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cobezzramblezz]

hello to whoever may be fronting I will be drawing cobes' sona beware

YAYAYAYAY (its cobes here btw >:3)

[tokidokifish]

↻FLIP FLOP:send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV!

for the fic ask game, may I humbly request POV flip of the confession scene in Irises?

(I don't think I've left a comment on that fic of yours, but I adore it. It's so good. everything I've read of yours has been phenomenal❤️❤️)

OUGH thank you, anon!! for the comment, and for the ask. here it is: i hope you enjoy :3c

It’s a shri-tal, of sorts.

Certainly his dear doctor is the only one he’d allow to take it. And in many ways, this is his last, worst secret: that in the end, with all of the blood staining his hands, he had still chosen Julian Bashir over everything else. 

The reaction is a reality Garak had been preparing himself for since—well, probably since he’d coughed up the first perek petal at the realization that Julian would be staying on Cardassia after the bombing; Garak had always known this is how it would end. And, just as he’d predicted: first comes the shock. After that, he knows, will come the sorrow, as Julian realizes how doomed the endeavor was from the start, and then—and this is the part that Garak has been bracing himself for—there will surely be pity. It’s why he’s waited so long: the selfish desire to preserve what they had for as long as possible. 

But instead: “No—no, I don’t understand,” Julian says. He pushes away from the bed to instead pace beside it, shoving a hand into his already messy hair even as he mutters, “Of course there’s the aspect of perception, but how is it possible—”

“Doctor,” Garak tries, more hesitant than he’d like. After all the time he’d spent imagining this situation, this is an unexpected development. 

And then: Julian’s gaze snaps back to him, and Garak’s breath—what little of it he can actually draw—catches in the painful tangle of his chest, because he’s never seen his dear doctor so visibly furious. 

“Garak,” he cries, voice rising. “I’ve been on Cardassia for years. We live together! How in the fucking universe could you not know I love you back?!”

Garak’s eyes go wide. He cannot speak, and in that silence Julian throws his hands up.

“I can’t believe you!” he shouts. “I’ve never been angrier with anyone in my life! You almost let yourself die for me?!”

As if there would be anyone else worth dying for, but that thought is a minor isle of calm in the sea of uncertainty that Garak has found himself in. “My dear—Julian,” Garak says, when he can say anything at all. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! Good lord, Garak!” And then, of all impossibilities, Julian is climbing into the biobed. He straddles Garak’s hips, and takes his face into his hands, bowing his head to press his warm, smooth brow to Garak’s chufa, and—it’s very nearly too much to bear, even as Julian keeps talking. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he hisses, “And it turns out it was all my own fault?!”

And now, at last, Garak finds his voice fully, because he cannot allow that to stand. “It was not your fault,” he whispers, pressing a hand to Julian’s cheek. “You did everything in your power to get me to accept treatment—to tell you. You know very well my own obstinance is to blame, along with my inability to conceptualize—”

“If you insinuate you don’t believe me, Garak, I will not be responsible for my actions,” Julian warns. “I may very well stab you.”

Garak would laugh, if he was capable of doing so; as it is, all he can manage is a weak chuckle against—oh. A fairly significant sensation in his chest, actually. He’d not even been aware of it himself, until this moment, but: “Oh, I believe you.” 

Even realizing what’s about to happen, it takes all his willpower to take his hand from Julian’s face and ease the human away. “In fact, I believe I’m going to prove exactly that momentarily,” he adds, with his last vestiges of control, and Julian—of course, Julian understands immediately. His eyes widen, and then he’s scrambling off the bed; Garak would mourn the loss of his warmth, but in the moment, all he can really manage is feeling desperately grateful when a biohazard container is shoved in front of him. 

Perek romances are popular, but they tend to leave this part out; it’s ugly, and painful, and entirely undignified, hacking up the tangle of bloody flowers that had taken up residence in his chest. But Julian stays close, running one warm, broad hand over Garak’s spine, and that, at least, helps.

“It is nice to have proof, at least,” Julian mutters, distantly. “And now I know why you were coughing up Earth flowers as well as Cardassian ones. I’m writing a paper about this, Garak, just you try and stop me. Comparative biogenic botanical manifestation in cross-species Perek Syndrome causation.”

The concept is mortifying, and Garak would allow it a thousand times over—it’s the least his dear, beloved doctor deserves.