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Loser!Zandik being crushed on by Popular!Reader

(masc terms on reader+ it's the typical corny social butterfly × weirdo shit, queer edition, honestly + Zandik displays traits of autism + a little murderous♡)

Zandik, as per usual, was spending the night's time in the library. It was quiet, for the most part. While a lot of his fellow peers were focused on finding answers for their own satisfaction, even those who viewed their values and research to be above everyone else's had someone to keep them company; for that reason, they often chose to borrow the necessary books and study in their respective dorms, or the dorms of their friends. Some did indeed prefer the setup of the library's sections and desks, but even so, the peaceful atmosphere was not interrupted by them.

Zandik sat on a table at the very ends of the room. He had a pile of books to his right; some half opened, and others neatly stack on top of each other. He had his notebook and pens nearby, taking notes of anything he deemed crucial knowledge for his personal projects.

Not long had he been entangled in his theories when a specific group of students decided to make an appearance. They could be heard from miles away— and it just so happened that they chose to sit on a table to his right. Malicious intent, no doubt. These people tended to act as if Zandik was some foreign species to be studied; as if he was a sort of a subject that needed constant supervision.

Of any day to endure the constant speculations and disgusted or concerned expressions towards him, today was not the right one. Nothing too horrific had happened to him, not something that would matter to an average person, at least. It's just that he slept wrong, causing him to wake up with slight neck pain, which played a role in worsening his already short temper, which in turn made his sensory issues towards his clothes, especially his socks, far more insufferable than they had to be. He was one unexpected move away from having a meltdown.

Yet again, he managed to ignore the obnoxiously loud 《whispers》 that sprouted out of those filthy rat-filled mouths of theirs, as Zandik's already-overwhelmed mind decided to call them.

Unfortunately for him, the multiple different voices started chanting even more nonsense as you walked towards the table— he could see that you were dreading it. Was everyone so damn bothered by his existence? You were known to be such a sweetheart— contrast to majority of boys there— by those who've interacted with you, but to be fair, none had a reputation quite like Zandik's, so it's no wonder you resented him, as everyone else did.

"Why'd we have to sit here?" he heard you emphasize. He looked your way; he could see the grins on the faces of your friends, the way they seemed to be picking on someone, hushed whispers, mentioning his name time after time, as if he wasn't barely three chairs away. Gods, his patience was running thin.

"Can we just switch seats?" He listened as you practically begged your friend, who was sitting on the complete opposite end of the table. As much as he may have claimed (to himself, seeing as he had none to actually confide in) not be a man driven by emotion, his worse sensory days were tempt to be a catastrophe in every way possible. He left soon after he heard those mumbles; he was too sensitive for his own good, even if he dismissed that fragile soul of his with walls of anger and apathy.

Your friends seemed to notice before you, the fact that he was no longer in the room. All you got was endless teasing about how you've missed your chance or about the fact that you probably 《intimidated》 him. Bullshit, no? You sighed as the group split up again, each going ahead to do their own thing. The only true reason they decided to meet up here was to force you into talking to him. That did not quite work out, it seems.

You hurried to leave as well, when you noticed a small pen on the ground. That must be his; you always see him writing with that specific shade of blue. It's not like nobody else in the whole Akademiya owned the same one, but he was sitting on the table you found it under. You decided to hold on to it. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to finally have a conversation with the guy!

On your way back to the dorms, you noticed him nearing his own room. Maybe now's the time to return him his belongings— especially considering how he seemed to be searching his pockets. His face was indifferent when he realized he didn't have the pen on him, but his hands were trermbling; a hint of anxiety perhaps? One could only speculate. You decided to leave him on his own. He probably wasn't up for company or conversation anyway.

The following few days weren't quite like you expected. Usually, you'd manage to get at least a glance your way by him; laughing at stupid jokes, bumping into people or objects that you could have easily avoided, accidentally saying things a bit too loud. Nothing worked this time. It's as if he purposefully was avoiding you; a fact that got confirmed after you tried walking towards him. He saw you—he made sure you saw his look, he held it for a couple of seconds— and then he walked away. Fuck, there's no way this guy wants anything to do with you.

Weeks later, you had grown to forget ever owning that pen of his; actually, you started using it for yourself. If you can't give it back, then why not use it for yourself?

Zandik, despite trying his hardest to keep his stares away from you and your friends (and pretty much everyone else in that damned building), couldn't help but notice that his long-gone favorite pen is under your possession.

After the very last class of the day, he decided to give you a visit; your fate had been decided by him already. He's done what he's done in the Eleazar hospital and got away with it. It wouldn't be hard to add another body into the endless pile of disappearances; he knew how to keep suspicion off his shoulders.

Perhaps it was a bit too far. He was letting his rage get the better of him; but gods, he really hadn't felt at ease writing with anything else. "His death would make no logical sense to my goals," he sighed as he reminded himself. "What sort of researcher puts his emotions above his values?" He groaned— frustrated both at himself for considering such a solution to his problems, and at the situation itself.

Times like these, he'd go to his special place to sit and think; it was a big tree, near a lake. Children would often talk about their encounters with the Aranara there. At first, he only ever visited that place so he could find one creature and take it for himself, but he grew quite comfortable being there.

He grabbed the opportunity by its hand once he spotted you all alone; sitting with your back against that very same tree that he favored. As if you had a seventh sense, you turned around to see him. He wasn't quite prepared to be greeted with a smile. It caught him off guard; why were you, of all people, showing any form of sympathy for him?

"I was hoping you'd be here" you said, handing him the pen that he has been desperately trying to get a hold of again.

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Try Again - Il Dottore x Reader

This is a vent fic. Let's just get that out of the way. I wrote this because I needed Dottore to do The Thing™. Don't read too much into this. The feelings will pass

"You've been staring at that journal for the past fifteen minutes," said Zandik, "what's the matter?"

You weren't sure it could be put into words - all the self-doubt that tormented you as of late, the thoughts that circled your mind every waking hour. Attempts had been made, in vain, to prepare a small speech in your head in case Zandik ever caught on. That, of course, he did, but you had nothing to say; not a single eloquent monologue to convey your insecurities in a way that would provoke understanding and not bewilderment.

I feel inadequate as of late. I don't feel like I'm wanted anywhere. Nothing I do matters anymore.

All miserable words that would have been met with a stern look, a simple "you are wanted by me; thus all that you do matters to me".

You tapped your pen against the empty page of your journal. You were desperate to say something, yet whatever it was that would eventually come out of your mouth already felt lacking. Nothing was enough.

"Talk to me," he urged, "you know there is nothing in this world that can't be solved. Tell me what bothers you."

You swallowed. "I feel as if I've lost all my skills. For writing, I mean. I can't come up with anything new and whatever ideas I have feel mediocre at best; uninteresting and aimless. I don't know, I..."

I think I should just give up.

The thought had crossed your mind countless times before. Wouldn't it be so much easier to abandon your work altogether? Why continue hurting yourself with this when you could simply let it all go?

You were tempted. Still, there was something that forced you to keep trying; something strange and incomprehensible that begged you not to give up this one thing that you knew.

Zandik pulled you out of your thoughts, "as far as I can tell - from what little I've seen of your scribbles - you've been writing the same themes over and over. What about trying something new?"

"I have tried. Nothing feels fitting."

"Then take a break. If I hit a dead end in my research I find something else to occupy my mind. Surely reading someone else's works will help you view your ideas from different perspectives?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. It all sounded so simple in theory - this issue should have been so easy to solve - yet nothing had worked. You felt as though you were stuck between four brick walls with no tools to break them down; nothing but your own fingernails to scrape them in hopes that someone would hear you from the other side.

"It doesn't feel so simple," you said softly.

"Why?"

"If I take a break now, I feel as if I'll only get worse." There came the first half of your horrifyingly vulnerable confession, and with it - a lump in your throat that came to embarrass you even further. You whispered the second half with enough shame to drown an entire nation: "If I don't push something out now, I'm afraid people will stop caring about me."

Zandik didn't spare you enough time to hide the tears that already clouded your vision; for he was by your side in the blink of an eye, gently pulling the journal out of your hands and hiding it behind his back.

"Why would you let such a thought become your truth?"

He laced his fingers with yours, wiped at the stray tears on your cheeks with the other hand. His glove rubbed against your skin in a way that was more uncomfortable than soothing but you made no move to stop him. Zandik continued to soothe you in the way he knew best.

"There's no race to run, do you understand? If you keep telling yourself that you'll become spoiled lest you write now, you'll never be able to see your brilliance as I do."

Zandik's eyes softened when you weakly squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. Thank you, you wanted to say, for seeing in me everything that I do not.

"Everything comes and goes; just as dusk turns to dawn without waiting for you to keep up." Zandik placed a tender kiss on your knuckles, "so don't let one difficult moment define you, my dear."

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Your honor i love them 🐍🔮

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yayy I finished it in time 🥲 happy bday Lisa!! 💜

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Commission for @dandelion-wings!!! It was my honor to draw this piece for you, I adore your take on these three and characters taking cozy naps together is my preferred artistic niche <3

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Tighnari meeting Lisa and Razor

Submit your request here

I am sure when Lisa sees Razor, she remember Cyno when he was young too

Thank you so much ! It is always an honor to have my art as someone wallpaper, so glad you like it 😭🫶

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quiet afternoon 🌱

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I've been thinking about emm - 🍮

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training in combat

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JeanLisa

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happy event ladies

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My Shelter Zine comic entry

ft Razor and Bennett (and Diluc and Lisa) (and Kaeya lol)

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Im tired and in sloght pain anf just want to sleep and hopr things get better

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Baby brother

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There's like so much less pressure when I vent here I don'g know why. If someone's reading this ignore my wording I just wanna get this out of my system

I. Think.... I am returning into a depressive episode. Which. Sucks! So early on in the year too

I get that depression doesn't have a concrete timeframe on when and where it happens but it Kinda Sucks it triggers out of nowhere. Or maybe I'm too weak and just relapse really easily (edit: oh I did research for once [did a quick google search], it seems it might be recurrence instead)

Regardless, I. Do not need reassurance. Or comfort. Or kind words from anyone right now

I know that probably sounds weird and would make ppl more inclined to reassure me but genuinely if anyone is actually reading this right now, please don't

I know. Relationships are not transactional. But the guilt of constantly receiving support while not being able to give any in return is taking its toll on me. I know people do it because they want to and I'm not really purposefully trying to stir anything up for attention whenever I get vulnerable and start venting but. I just. Can't

I can't. I don't want to keep relying on reassurance. I have plenty of reminders I am loved

I just. That's not really the problem right now. I don't know what's the trigger to make me feel this way but it's probably bc of my own absence

The simplest things have become so tiring. I'm. Stuck in my head most of the time lately. I don't know if I dissociate and I'd really rather not use that term lightly or at all but sometimes I don't. Feel very present I guess

I know change starts with me but if I start acting now without figuring out this. Heavy feeling in my chest and what's causing it, it'll just gnaw at me even while recovering. And I don't want that

I don'g know. Stuff stuff something here just so I can end this post in some way