#am bored send asks

[dearly--detested]

Ye

Lavandee's Stimboard Ask Game

Here's how it works! By reblogging this post you welcome your friends and followers to submit numbered prompts to your inbox which you can then use as inspiration for a themed stimboard or gifset!

1. An obscure favourite character

2. Your first OTP

3. Your strangest kin

4. Your favourite colour

5. Your favourite song

6. Your favourite band

7. Your favourite Pokemon

8. An obscure hyperfixation

9. Your favourite food

10. A recurring dream

11. A childhood memory

12. A plush from your childhood or the current day

13. An old OC of yours

14. The first anime you ever watched

15. What you last ate

16. A song from your childhood

17. A character who's birthday you share

18. A hobby you enjoy

19. Your biggest fictional crush

20. A series you plan on getting into

21. A game you never finished

22. A series you have a love/hate relationship with

23. Gifs from your favourite stim blog

24. An interesting moment in history

25. An old hyperfixation or special interest

26. The AMV in your head

27. A defunct website you used to frequent

28. A fandom you're not in that looks like fun

29. An instrument you can (or wish you could) play

30. Create a crack ship!

31. Your zodiac

32. The decade you were born in

33. An overplayed song you unironically love

34. A remake/remix/reboot that's better than the original

35. A meme that makes you laugh

36. Your favourite animal

37. Your favourite sport or game

38. Your favourite holiday

39. Your current OTP

40. WILD CARD! Asker, send in a character that the stim blogger reminds you of. Blogger, make a stimboard of them!

[bl00dalchemist]

The horrors are endless but he stays silly 💖💖💖

[keklordkaotic]

ok man . time to be evil again. I’m the ONLY ONE in your asks so i get to say what ever I wantttt. My evil question. How would you draw shockwave as a pony (YOU MUST!! YOU MUST NOW!!! YOU MUST DRAW IT!!!)

You didn’t specify the MLP art style this time. HA! Blessed day! I wasn’t satisfied with how my Bulkhead horse turned out. I had trouble with the stylization and I thought it turned out flat-looking.

Anyway, here’s how. I made an attempt. Now send me more prompts. Please. I’m desperate.

Referencing this well-known cover art from the Marvel UK comics.

[oscarpiastriwdc]

2023 fic rec ask game 💕

favorite fic you read this year?

fic you reread the most times?

fic that made you reconsider a ship?

favorite rarepair fic?

longest fic you read this year?

shortest fic you read this year?

line from a fic that's haunted you?

fic you think should be mandatory reading?

a fic that made you cry?

a fic that made you laugh?

wip you're excited to keep reading in 2024?

fic you want everyone to study in a literature class?

song you now associate with a fic?

favorite series?

fic that's between you and your ao3 history?

femslash shoutout?

a fic that felt like a warm blanket?

favorite characterization?

favorite au?

last fic you read?

[emisurfriend]

I found this funky green elevator lobby.

[roykiller07]

idk how receptive tumblr is to these kind of posts in comparison to 2022 floptok, but heres me remaking a bmf slideshow i made when i was like 15

in other words befriend me or i will send missiles to your home

[wizardsix]

ok... so I have finally finished veilguard after about 90 painful hours (two playthroughs). im not gonna write an actual review about all of my detailed thoughts bc it'll actually take days, this is just to at least get my general thoughts out and see if anyone else feels the same or if ive actually lost it.

overall it is the weakest dragon age game story-wise, and I'd give it a nice lukewarm 4/10.

(i wrote this post right after I finished the game on the weekend so maybe I sound a bit harsh, I tried to edit it to be more reasonable lol but I didn't really want to delete this since I do still stand by a lot of this)

I really tried to go in with an open mind, bc I always want to experience media in full before making any kind of judgement, but about a few hours in I had this horrible feeling that once again this was another soulless, rushed game, and I still don't feel any different after finishing the game.

what stuck out to me was that there's no sense of urgency despite what the plot is, serious topics are not treated with care as the writing overall is shallow, and the gods as well as any other enemy you encounter are just cartoon villains (and apparently the lore retconning, but I'm not well-versed enough to dissect that so I won't).

I can't take this plot seriously when it feels so disjointed and forced and lazy. and I see no point in caring about anything when choices literally don't matter. no say in who you recruit, no say in the relationships with them and they have almost no awareness of rook, definitely doesn't matter if you have allies or not bc they show up anyway, and only four companions are locked into unavoidable decisions where one of them bites the dust no matter what (which is strange bc why are harding and davrin forced to die no matter if they're at hero status while bellara and neve can literally survive blight if they're at hero status), so it's impossible to try to strategize for better (or worse) outcomes with all the people you've gathered when there's only one right answer that the game pretty much tells you instead of letting you think for yourself (and side note this game does an incredible amount of hand holding). the game actively tries to trick you into thinking your choices matter with the onscreen notifications, but nothing matters bc the devs clearly had only one story in mind and for some reason lied that it had "complex choices".

also rook in general wasn't interesting as a protagonist bc they were written to be perfect. they always know what to say and are so supportive of everyone. they never struggle with anything. not even with leadership beyond "man leading a team is hard :/" but it doesn't actually show how hard it is by having actual volatile conflict between the companions* or showing how their plans sometimes fail. which, if we actually had choices that mattered, would have helped develop that struggle. also? what's with everyone being so friendly? I'm not gonna get into that but everyone is so eerily nice and it's been said a lot but yeah, the world is extremely sanitized and devoid of any real conflict aside from the gods I guess.

*(like off the top of my head cassandra fighting with varric and accusing him of not being on their side or how the inquisitor can literally punch dorian and solas if approval is low enough or fenris and anders bordering on killing each other is not the same as lucanis and davrin distrusting each other or people being uncomfortable with emmrich's necromancy. it just scratches the surface of conflict and never goes anywhere)

and let me say real quick again, there's nothing wrong if they wanted to make a more rigid story about being a hero. it's been done a million times and it can be executed well, but if you do that you need to make sure you 1) don't lie to people and 2) actually flesh out your (especially main) characters and plot to give people a reason to care. look at dragon age 2. hawke is a fixed protagonist with their own life front and center. they ultimately only have two choices (siding with mages or templars), but it works bc the game took time to build up the conflict straight from act 1 so by the time chaos happens in act 2 and 3 you understand why bc it's Been brewing the whole time. it just makes sense. the villains as well have sound reasons and feel real instead of being evil just bc. the story is more grounded, yet you have choices. you decide if hawke ends up alone or not. you decide how they approach situations with force or diplomacy. there's none of that in veilguard. a game that supposedly took 10 years to make. when dragon age 2 took almost 16 months (yes I know da2 also has problems like the fact that the templars are always proven right but this isn't the place to dissect that).

I want to be fair though and I do want to restate what I enjoyed about the game. the cc (though would it kill them to have more variety in face textures like age and body types beyond average.. also no colour wheel... especially since they claimed their cc was so good), the map progression/visuals/exploration (how certain places become more blighted overtime), the factions (though I feel there should have been more content for your faction, and helping them or not should have mattered more), the combat (did not feel like a slog, pretty fun and mindless), the companions (bellara, davrin, emmrich, harding, and lucanis had solid personalities and stories despite my complaints. neve was not memorable and I just feel sad for taash's bad writing), certain parts of the story were good, the intro and the point of no return sequences were solid, and the ending didn't feel rushed or boring compared to inquisition. and yes, I do appreciate that rook can be trans, I just think a little more subtly and care would've been nice.

another thing I did like and predicted was that varric died at the beginning of veilguard, and for a second I actually enjoyed that because i thought we were finally (a bit too late tho) getting some depth to rook and their own struggles of accepting his death and carrying this weight without him. and while I do think maybe they should've taken more time to establish the mentor/mentee relationship so we really feel rooks regret, I still think it was at least the right direction where in their grief they still see him, giving advice and narrating their journey.....but then it turned out to just be solas manipulating them the whole time, immediately destroying any emotional weight this reveal had.

whenever bioware has good ideas they shoot themselves in the foot and make it about solas. it's like nothing in the world exists without solas being involved somehow, and that is just incredibly boring and uninspired to me. not to mention solas just being an insufferable ass the whole time, which is fine, but it's not even in a compelling way like he used to be. he became so ugly by the end and the fact that the devs consider redeeming him the "good ending" and not giving him what he deserves is very telling and once again shows their own bias is king over good storytelling (solas' feelings should not come into play here, whether you/your companions live or die should determine good/bad ending since solas is trapped no matter what, only difference is who is trapped with him. idk but I personally think different endings actually means different outcomes). i will not go into the bs of the secret post credit scene, bc frankly I'm fed up with bioware's shitty writing and I won't be playing their next world ending space aliens game (unless they miraculously pull a good story out of their ass but lbr).

overall the bad outweighs the good for me. it's fun to play as a game, it's a decent fantasy game, but the story just doesn't do anything for me. sometimes I wonder if dreadwolf was a completely different game and was scrapped for veilguard last minute. maybe this was yet another inevitable industry fuck up and maybe there was a good story planned at one point. idk. all I know is bioware lied. respect and credit to the poor devs and writers who actually cared and to those who were kicked from the project, but in the end bioware promised too much and delivered too little.

[canadianno]

If I give you guys a sneak peek of Hekets' au ref will you send me asks

Yes?

Okay cool

[laurrelise]

i wanna fill a page in my sketchbook with tua stuff so send me a bunch of asks of what to fill it with :3

[ganondoodle]

was feeling 'fine' (all things considered) then spent 3 hours daydreaming about oc stuff without moving and inch and now i feel very much not fine, i really cant win can i :(

[rosefinnigen]

good evening friends

[ethereal-intrigue]

The conflict between wanting to loved and wanting to be fucked till all my three holes are stuffed full is so real :/

I still wanna fall in love and and have my first time with my husband BUT THE HORMONES AND THE NEED TO MOVE ON

[necrotic-nephilim]

i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

[iguessitsjustme]

I’m bored so send me some music related asks since I’ve had the most bizarre songs stuck in my head lately:

1. What song is currently stuck in your head?

2. Pick and artist, I’ll tell you my favorite song by that artist.

3. Pick a genre, I’ll tell you my favorite song in that genre.

4. Pick a color, I’ll tell you what song I associate with that color.

5. What song do you play to help calm you down?

6. What song do you play to help pump you up?

7. What genre have you been listening to lately?

8. Tell me a secret and I’ll pick a song that matches the secret.

9. Put your most recently played playlist on shuffle and tell me a story associate with that song.

10. What’s a song you love that might surprise some people?

11. What music did you listen to in high school?

12. Who are your top 5 favorite artists?

13. Pick a mood, I’ll give you a song that fits that mood.

14. What’s a genre you like that might surprise some people?

15. Do you play an instrument? What instrument(s) do you want to learn?

16. What’s a song you like that’s not in your native language?

17. What 5 songs would you tell a new friend to listen to in order to better understand you?

18. What’s an instrument that you think is underrated?

19. Pick a song, I’ll recommend a show based on the song.

20. How many songs are on your shortest playlist?

21. How many songs are on your longest playlist?

22. Based on my blog, name a song you think I should listen to. I’ll tell you my thoughts.

23. Based on my blog, name an artist I should listen to. I’ll tell you my thoughts.

24. What’s a song that reminds you of your best friend?

25. Describe yourself in 5 words and I’ll give you a 10 song playlist.

[cupidsworstcrime]

House x Veteran Fellow nonsense

My brain is tiny, and I've had this sitting in my drafts forever. I might add to it if there's demand, but I don't know lol!

summary/blurb: A new fellow gets hired, shit SWIFTLY hits the fan.

note: its dual POV cause I love house. Word count: 4759

~~~~

Liliya

Being a marine is usually just something that happens when you have a military family. Both parents, grandfathers, great grandfathers, all military. It’s just something that you grew up comfortable with, you expect it, you don’t have any other life plans because you were born to serve. But now I was here. Freshly discharged yet still needed to serve. Be of use.

Med school was a bitch, honestly, but I needed to help people. Needed to be ordered around. Hospitals are like the military, no? Just less guns. Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Meeting with Lisa Cuddy, a dangerously beautiful woman, to see if I was fit to work here. I was standing in her office, hadn’t sat yet, hadn’t been permitted to. Maybe I shouldn’t be putting my weird militant expectations on her, but she was in charge of this hospital, so by proxy in charge of me.  

“You can sit, it’s just an interview.” Her voice was soft, almost motherly. Did she think I was nervous? I mean, I was, but did I look nervous? She was in a white coat, lovely black dress, and heels. Way better looking than I, that’s for sure. I was in cargo pants, a tucked in white shirt, and some boots. I looked stereotypically military, but this was my whole wardrobe. I didn’t have beautiful dresses and heels. Not that I didn’t want to, just haven’t had the time.

I sat in the seat in front of her desk, “Thank you again, ma’am. I really appreciate that you found the time to interview me.” My hands folded politely in my lap. She flipped through my file, leaving us in silence for a minute or two. 

I hated silence, but luckily, she spoke up soon, “And… Your pain management… What are you doing for that?” Ah, the reason I was discharged in the first place. As if on cue, the pain in my ankle started. The left one, the one I didn’t have anymore. 

Pain management? Was she accusing me of being an addict? “Grit and bear it.” I answered honestly. I didn’t want to be doped up all the time, took Tylenol as needed, physical therapy, the works. “Is being… Is it an issue?” My amputation was something that made me leave the marines, I hoped it didn’t affect me now. On bad days, I had a mild limp, on horrible days I needed a wheelchair. The worst of it was the chaffing, the cloth sock of the prosthetic rubbing harshly against my …. Well nub, for lack of a better term. I could still be a doctor. I can still serve a purpose.

She smiled, so I smiled, “Look, I would love to hire you.” Oh… I see… “But the doctor you’ll work under… he likes to perform his own interviews.” She reached across her desk, her hand in front of me as if to comfort me. “I think you are a shoe in, I do. Dr. House is kind of an ass, but he’s the best damn doctor we have. Don’t let him push you around.” She withdrew her hand and scribbled something onto a post-it note. 

I stayed obediently silent, waiting for her to speak again. I never liked speaking without permission, I hated it more than I hated the silence. I looked down at the hands still neatly folded in my lap. I was so focused on my hands, on staying quiet, that I didn’t even hear her speaking until the post-it note was being handed to me. 

“This is his office, I let him know you’re on the way.” I looked up at her, then down at the sticky note, taking it.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I said as softly as I could, standing up and offering my hand to shake. She didn’t take my hand, so I let it awkwardly fall back to my side. “Thank you again, really, I mean it. This is a great opportunity.” As I saw myself out, she had this look of almost pity. It didn’t feel like the usual pity of my past, more like a pity for whatever was about to happen in this next interview.

“Oh and, Liliya?” I turned to face her, “Don’t act so… quiet with him.” She suggested, she knew him best, had to be good advice. 

I nodded, “Yes ma’am.” I said, then walked out, gently closing the door behind me. Don’t be so quiet. Talk to him. I mean, working in Diagnostic Medicine meant talking, I knew that, but speaking felt wrong. 

As I walked to this office, I had this sense of impending doom. Was I going into the right field? Was this for me? Born and raised to serve, never stopped for a moment to think that maybe I was in over my head. I was third in my class, I knew I was smart enough for it, but fuck was I even prepared. I felt out of place walking amongst doctors. Maybe I would get lucky, and Dr. House would turn me away. Wait. I don’t want that. Right? I want this job?

I thought I wanted it. I mean, I just was on this weird thought train about needing to serve. Needing to be of use. But as I walked the halls of the hospital, I felt nauseous. Like really nauseous. God, I want to turn around and go home, nauseous. Where even was home anymore? Jersey? Texas? Kansas? Any marine base?

Through the glass wall, I could see three people sitting at a table watching an older man write on a white board. I knocked on the door as I poked my head in. “Dr. House?” I said softly, everyone turning to me. I felt a light blush creep up my neck and the tips of my ears burned, gently letting the door close behind me. “Dr. Cuddy sent me down here for an interview.” 

My hands were held behind my back, at half attention. I looked at the older man, he had to be House, I doubted he would be a fellow. His eyes were so blue. Like painfully so. My eyes fell to his cane, I tried not to stare, I really did. I’m not gonna be weird, act like I had a weird cripple kinship with the man. But as I shifted my weight to my good leg, I felt relieved. Surely this meant my disability wouldn’t get me turned away. 

“Ah yes,” The older man spoke as he hobbled over to his desk where a stack of files sat, “Military brat, right?”

I shifted my weight again with a wince, “Yes sir.” I didn’t think I was a brat, but I wasn’t going to argue with the ‘best damn doctor in this hospital’.

He opened a file, didn’t look up at me, “Sir. I like that.” He pointed at the three people, two men and one woman, at the table, “Take notes.” I chewed the inside of my cheeks nervously. Why wasn’t he asking me questions? Why did these interviews not feel like interviews? Was this just the most unprofessional hospital? His eyes shifted from the files and seemed to focus on my legs. Oh, he’s at that part of the file then. 

He scoffed, “Wow, does Cuddy think I’ll just hire the first cripple to walk through that door?” His eyes lifted to mine. I figured the question was rhetorical, so I stayed silent, staring back at him. “Speak!” I almost flinched. Right, Dr. Cuddy told me not to be quiet with him. 

I took a breath, trying to stand a little taller, “Sir, I really don’t see why that would matter?” I shifted my weight to my good leg once again. “I promise, it doesn’t hinder me in any way.” That was a blatant lie. 

He rolled his eyes, “That is a blatant lie, I would know. And I still have my leg.” He looked back at the file and sighed, “What does your pain management look like? Any drugs?” 

I cleared my throat, crossing my arms under my chest, “I just take Tylenol if I really need it, otherwise, I just grit and bear it.” I repeated, it seemed to be my mantra. Something flashed in his eyes, almost looked like jealousy. Why was this question so important to them?

“No Vicodin? Ketamine?” I shook my head, and he nodded, “Alright, then I have a question.” He looked at me expectantly, I just looked back, “Oh my god, speak girl! What’s that? Timmy’s stuck in a well?” He said with a glare. Someone at the table snorted, and that burn at my ears returned.

I hated my quiet little habit. “Sorry sir, what’s your question?” He closed my file and walked back to the white board. It read: 

‘Hemolytic Anemia, Clotted Retina, Failing Liver’

“Diagnose it.” He said, gesturing to the board. Hep E was a possibility, lupus as well. 

I walked closer to the table, looking over a blond man’s shoulders. I reached over him, my chest against his back, gently dragging my ringer over the file he held. “He’s 16?”

The blond cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah.” “Been out of the country?” I took the file and leaned back against the table next to him. He nodded and I hummed, “Hep E?” 

House laughed and snatched the file from my hands. “Chase and Brat, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Okay, well that was childish. “It’s not Hep E.” 

“One, stop calling me that please,” He smirked, “And two, what about lupus?”

***

It was not Lupus. I barely even remember what happened. Something to do with termites, a cat autopsy, and House got punched by a father. Very eventful first week. I had someone's vomit on my shirt, my pants had a small tear from an accident with a shovel, I smelt rank, and hadn't left the hospital all week. Felt like home. I got some body spray from Chase and practically bathed in it. I sat alone in the office as I filled out paperwork. I hated the quiet. Hated it. You’d think after years and years and years of constant noise, I’d revel in the silence, but it just made me anxious. Yet, I’m not much of a talker. Is that ironic?

I had music softly playing from my phone, humming along. “Why are you still here, Lassie?” Fucking Lassie, he’s been calling me that all fucking week. 

I gestured at the table, covered in books and papers, “Paperwork,” I wasn’t trying to sound annoyed on purpose, guess it just happened when you don’t sleep. 

“It can wait till tomorrow.” I didn’t bother looking up at him, just kept scribbling away silently. A pair of scrubs was thrown onto the table. “At least go shower,” He said gruffly, “Paperwork will still be here when you get back Lassie, promise.” 

I sighed and reached for the body spray again, “can’t shower here.” I tapped my leg. “Takes so long to take it on and off, I’ll just get this done and go home.” I sprayed the body spray on me and set it down. I looked up at House, under his eyes were red and he was sweating a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. Withdraws, a lot.

I must have made a face because he rolled his eyes, “Pharmacy hadn’t had my pain meds,” I made a soft ‘ah’ sound, and went back to paperwork. “How do you not just… Drown yourself in Vicodin?”  I shrugged, staying silent. I think he liked my quietness more than Cuddy expected. More than he expected. He doesn’t seem like one to have these conversations. Related to his pain meds? “So, you just live like that?” I nodded. “Must be nice,” he said, finally opening the pill bottle in his hand and taking two. I think the silence was a good place for him to just bounce words off, knowing I wouldn't judge him out loud.

“I don’t know if having my purpose in life ripped away along with my leg, can really be called nice, sir.” I didn’t mean to spit it the way I did, but he didn’t seem insulted. 

He smiled a bit. “Angry about it?”

“Immensely.” I said honestly. It was never in my plans to lose my leg 2 years into my military career, and then pull myself through school. “If you’re not angry, you’re not human.” I scribbled my last little notes and closed the file. I stood, “Night, House.” 

“Night, James.” He scowled, “That felt weird.” I shrugged, I was just happy he was calling me by my name, last name or otherwise, over Lassie.

“Can just call me Liliya if calling me a man’s name bothers you that badly.” I tried to compromise. He called a few others by their last names; I understood why maybe he didn’t feel comfortable with mine. My C.O.s didn’t like it either. 

He scoffed, “It’s not that it's a man’s name. I’m not a sexist.” I gave him a look and he raised his hands defensively, “It’s just a friend’s name.” He took another Vicodin and I had to hold back my frown. “You sure we can’t just stick to Lassie and Brat?” I shrugged, going silent once again. 

“Wanna get a drink?” I was surprised by my own question. 

He smirked, “Man, I’m gonna have to stop hiring female fellows if they keep falling for me.” I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight, crossing my arms. 

“I meant as coworkers,” I took a breath, “Look, we had a shitty week, you more than any of us, yeah?” He nodded. “Let's go out tomorrow night. You can always just not come; I don’t mind drinking alone.” And I left. Surprisingly an amputee was faster than a man with an infarction. 

The next night, I may have gotten a little dressed up. Only a little. Used my day off to go dress shopping, picking out a lot of nice clothes for myself. Including a slightly sparkly black dress that went to my mid thigh, three different pairs of black heels, and a handful of makeup and hair products. 

So, I was sitting in a bar, prosthetic crossed over my leg, nursing a rum and coke. I didn’t actually expect him to show up. I heard the annoying beep of my on-call pager and groaned, ‘9-1-1’. “Shit,” I whispered and rushed out. I rang up House, and it went straight to voicemail. “Hey sir, got the page, on my way, but, uh,” I ducked into my car, “I had a little to drink and I don’t have time to change,” I started my car, “Be there in like 15, don’t kill anyone.” And I hung up.

As my heels clicked about as quick as they could across the floor. I tried to ignore the insecurity I had for my prosthetic that my niece stuck hello kitty band aids over to ‘make me feel better’. I pushed House’s office door open, “Sorry I’m late sir.”

“Chase,” House spoke, facing the white board, “Tell Brat what happens when you are late.”

Chase turned to me, and his eyes widened, “Well shit, Liliya…” I tried not to blush as his eyes trailed me. Foreman cleared his throat and Chase seemed to zone back in. “Just… Damn if you’re gonna be late, make sure you’re dress like that I mean fuck-”

“Chase!” Cameron chastised in tandem with Foreman, causing House to finally turn around.

His blue eyes looked me up and down and he smiled. He knew I dressed like this basically for him. “Lassie, why are you dressed like a hooker?” Oh, you cunt. 

My hands folded behind my back, “I was meeting someone for drinks, sir.” Why was I standing at attention? Felt like it. 

“Kinky.” He said, leaning against his cane, “Hot date?” I rolled my eyes, he was doing this deliberately now, the fucker. 

“Date? Probably not.” I walked further into the office, reading the white board, “Hot? I don't know sir, he’s probably older than my father.” I didn’t know if I found House attractive. Maybe? But I wasn’t about to feed his ego like that. He probably wasn’t older than my father, but the way he looked when I said that made me feel vindicated. He rolled his eyes, focusing on the board again. Did me not finding him hot… bother him?

Chase laughed, “You like older guys?” I looked back at him and shrugged. I stayed silent as I took my seat, having talked enough. He nudged my bare shoulder, I just smiled and listened to House as he ranted about the case. I felt kind of loopy. Drunk almost. That didn’t make sense, I had one drink, and I didn’t even finish it.

I must have zoned out because soon someone was snapping in my face, “Earth to Lassie,” the voice was gravelly and yet smooth. I hummed softly and looked up at House with a smile. The lights in the room were off but it was still light outside, “How much did you drink waiting for me to show up?” I figured no one else was in the room, no way he’d be so open if the other fellows were here. I silently held up a finger. “One what? One tequila shot? Jager bomb?” He mumbled, sitting down, lowering to my level.

“Rum and coke.” I said with a soft laugh. I stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, and I leaned in slightly, “you’re pretty.” God, he was pretty, wasn’t he? Those sweet baby blues, stubble I wanted to drag my lips against. Woah there, Liliya, calm the fuck down, holy shit. What's wrong with me? This doesn’t feel right. Something feels wrong.

He smiled and turned away from me, “Yeah right. You’re wasted.” I leaned against his shoulder and hummed softly. 

I had an ache where my left calf would be, “‘m leg hurts…” I whined softly. God, it hurt so bad. Like it was being stabbed repeatedly. I whimpered a little, rubbing my face against his shoulder.

“The left?” He asked, knowing the answer but I nodded anyway. His hand went to my thigh, gently tugging down the sock that helped hold the prosthetic to me.

I giggled through the pain, “Buy me dinner first.” He smiled; it seemed half genuine. 

I heard him start to talk but I was overwhelmed with nausea. “Oh fuck…” I leaned forward, vomiting. At first, I thought it was the alcohol, but then my eyes focused and I saw the crimson puddle below me.

“Oh shit…” I looked up at House, he almost looked scared. He started yelling but I couldn’t quite hear him. My head hurt so fucking bad, my leg was killing me. And there it was, that sense of impending doom. That's definitely a symptom of something. 

“House…” I groaned, feeling arms wrap around me, several arms. “I feel… Fuck, I’m dying…” 

“You’re not dying, Lili.” Chase muttered above me, flashing a light in my face.

I shook my head, closing my eyes tight, “Feel like it,” I frantically tugged at the cleavage of my dress, it felt suffocating. I had this same feeling when I lost my leg. “Don’t… Fuck… Chase…” I Pulled him down by his collar, “If you break into my house, I will castrate you.”

HOUSE

I was holding a leg. Not a real leg. A stupid, metal, steampunk leg covered in ridiculous cartoon band aids. It feels like I am losing his mind, more so than usual. Feeling slightly out of character. And frankly, half pissed. Why the fuck was one of my best doctors currently vomiting up blood and thinking she was dying? Could I even call her one of my best? She’s worked with me for exactly 9 days. Plus she was a marine, Mr. House was a fucking marine. It was infuriating, the way she acted. As if she was bred and raised to be bossed around. Okay, that part I didn’t mind all too much. Sometimes.

I could ignore the blood on the floor, the blood on my shoes, my cane, the hem of my pant legs. What I couldn’t ignore was the makeup smudged on the shoulder of my blazer. She fucking nuzzled me as pain relief. Like a fucking rabbit. An annoying, beautiful fucking rabbit. Obedient fucking rabbit. Wow, Wilson was right, I am an actual predator. This girl was in her 20’s, she’s fucking sick, I’m her boss, and all I can think of is how gorgeous she was in that dress. How attractive it was that she didn’t leave the hospital all week till she was 100% sure that kid would be okay.

I’ve done worse things morally, hell my interns break into a new place everyday. I have Cameron on a weird leash that keeps her by my side with romanic hope, Chase sees me as some fucked up father figure, Foreman is Foreman. But wanting to fuck my employee, an employee half my age, against my desk was forbidden in my fucked up little brain. Great, now I had a headache. 

I threw Liliya’s prosthetic onto the table, it clanked against the glass. I took the little orange bottle out of my pocket and took 2 pills. Dry, the only right way to take the pills that were probably ruining my life, but I liked being in denial. 

I wiped the whiteboard clean, completely dumping the last case. We had a new focus. ‘Hematemesis, sense of dread, amputee(?)’ I wrote out on the board. Foreman was the first to walk back into the room. I leaned against my cane. “Diagnose her.” We hadn’t even run any tests on her. It could have been really simple, but something told me it was more. She seemed like trouble.

Chase and Cameron followed into the room like little ducks. “Uh, I don’t think the amputation has anything to do with her condition.” Chase spoke up. 

I rolled my eyes, “Oh I’m sorry, I seemed to have forgotten to consult what you think.” I glared at the blond rich bitch, “What makes you say they aren’t related?” 

“Well for starters,” I was beginning to hate his accent. “She lost it in the military, mid-service. I doubt shrapnel from 5 years ago really led to  her throwing up blood this morning.” Doubt.

“Was the surgery performed out of the country?” I asked the man who seemed to know all about sour sweet doctor. Am I being possessive? Fuck thats weird isn’t it? I hobbled to the file, still thrown lazily onto my desk. I read through as quick as I could

James , Liliya

Age: 27

Sex: F

Boring, boring, boring, bingo.

Left leg amputation, 6/11/20XX, Tripler Army Medical Center, Honolulu HI

Wow, my birthday and a base my dad used to be stationed at. Awesome, I hate marines. 

“House, it’s been 5 years, plus the tests aren’t even back yet.” Cameron said softly, “She probably could have just had too much to drink.” Okay, well that pissed me off more.

“Yes, Moron, cause I too, get shit faced off one ‘coke and rum’ waiting for my date to show up, just to come into work and throw up blood on my boss’ boots.” I fucking hate this hospital. I took another vicodin. 

Foreman shrugged a bit, “Maybe she’s just a really big lightweight, I mean, she dozed off in the middle of diagnosing the other guy.” I needed a new team. I didn’t actually, I don’t know why they were pissing me off. Is it because I secretly wanted something to be wrong with her? Wanted her to have something terminal and fucked up? Die in 3 days, so I’m willing to fuck my pervy boss, terminal? I’ll ask Wilson later. 

***

“Is it really that bad?” 

“Yes!!” Wilson said ludicrously, “Wanting to… God, House, she’s a kid.” I scrunched up my nose.

“Don’t say it like that, she’s an adult.” She was, a fucking gorgeous one at that, “Have you seen her ass, Wilson? It’s fucking perfect.” I wish I had a chance to see under her dress, I should have gone drinking with her. Damn it. But then would she have vomited blood on me mid-sex? That would be hard to explain. Would we have even had sex? Fuck, we definitely do in my dreams.

Wilson buried his face in his hands, “You do remember this girl is in the ICU, don’t you?” He’s right. I’m being a freak, more than usual. There was something actually wrong with me if I was ever even humouring the thoughts. The fantasies. I’m her boss. And now her doctor. This was fucked on levels I didn’t even think I would have cared about. She was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve to be trapped in a perverts mind like this. …Well she was already running around in there like a hyperactive rabbit, might as well let her stay up there. God, she was a sexy rabbit. 

Greg, Liliya is sick, stop thinking, you fucking predator. I hated fighting with myself. 

I felt so out of character. Why did this small, stupid woman make me feel like a character in a shitty erotica that all the Christian moms tried to get banned from the public library? Some freak ass’ self-indulgent fantasy. 

I sat in Liliya’s hospital room, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. I spun my cane in my hands, irritated. Irritated that I was the only one that thought there was something wrong with her, the only one concerned that she had to be intubated, that she aspirated on her own bloody vomit twice in the past three days.  Irritated that my mind was blank, unwilling to risk her health for our guesses, doing treatments that could kill her if we were wrong. 

I didn’t want to hurt her in any way, it's agonizing. I wish I didn’t care that I could separate her from the diagnoses I had to get, but I couldn’t. Every time I looked at that fucking whiteboard, I felt nauseous.

25 years old. Texas native. Born and raised in the South, her military records are pristine. Two years into active service, she was caught in an explosion, resulting in the loss of her left leg below the knee. Multiple surgeries followed, all performed by military surgeons in various tropical field hospitals. 

I tossed the file back onto my desk and turned to face the team. "Field hospitals aren’t exactly known for their pristine conditions. Could be an infection that lay dormant."

Cameron frowned. "But wouldn't an infection have shown up sooner?"

"Not necessarily," Foreman interjected. "Some infections can remain asymptomatic for years, especially if they're slow growing. It’s a long shot, but we should consider it."

I pointed my cane at the board. "Good. What else?"

"Could be related to her prosthetic," Chase offered. "Improper fit, causing chronic irritation, leading to an ulcer or infection in the stump." Haha, stump. 

I nodded. "Get a sample from her stump and run cultures. Check for any signs of infection, bacterial or fungal. What else?"

"Stress-induced gastritis?" Cameron suggested. "She’s been through a lot of stress and trauma."

"Possible," I conceded. "Get an upper endoscopy to check for any lesions or ulcers."

Chase scribbled the orders on his notepad and hurried out. Foreman and Cameron followed suit, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stared at the whiteboard, the words blurring together.

Why did this feel so personal? Why did I care so much about this particular case? It wasn't just the challenge, though that was a part of it. It was her. Liliya. She had a fire, a determination to keep going despite everything life threw at her. And damn it, she was beautiful. That much was undeniable.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Focus, House. She’s a patient, not a prostitute.

The results came back faster than I expected. No signs of infection in the stump. Cultures were negative. Upper endoscopy showed mild gastritis, but nothing that would cause severe hematemesis. We even got her drug tested in case maybe her drink was spiked.    

Damn it. What was I missing?

I stormed into Liliya’s room, the team trailing behind me. She looked up, her eyes dull with pain and exhaustion. I really hated that she was my patient.

She started to sit up, wincing. God, why do I care so much about this woman. "What isn’t in your medical file?”

[regicidal-defenestration]

Having the sort of day at work where I'm about this 🤏 close to writing a David Ward monologue