#they are not a substitute for going to see a doctor

[janeyseymour]

I Can Take Care Of Myself

Summary: Melissa falls and clearly injures herself. She insists she's fine.

WC: ~3.7k

Melissa falls at work today, because of course she does. It isn’t the best morning to begin with- and that only puts the cherry on top to prove to the two of you that today is going to be an absolute living hell.

It all starts when you wake up with half a voice and feeling like a truck hit you. Still though, you persist and insist that you’re well enough to go to school- calling out isn’t an option at this point. The substitute situation is, in the fine words of Mr. Johnson, absolute trash. You’re not about to subject your grade level partners to another ten kids in their class for the day when you can still teach- just maybe not to the degree that your students have become accustomed to.

“Hun, I’m fine,” you croak out as you force yourself to peel your eyes open.

Melissa frowns. “It’s clear you aren’t. You look like you crawled out of the seventh layer of hell.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “I love you too.”

Green eyes are rolled. “You know I’m saying that with all of the love in my heart, mi amore… I just don’t want you to strain yourself more than you have to. I can handle your sub plans and take on some of your kids.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed again. “Just give me five more minutes, and then I’ll get up.”

“Y/N,” your girlfriend says sternly.

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “Just gonna need some extra coffee today.”

Somehow, miraculously, you get out of the house on time- having not put on makeup today. You’re able to stop for coffee before you head to work, and then you’re walking in with the usual crew. They can all clearly see that you aren’t feeling well, but at your glare, they silence themselves. Chatter continues on like it normally does with your friends. And then Melissa trips and she hits the ground- hard.

You gasp and reach out a hand to help her up, worried that she’s more injured than she’s playing off. “Hun?”

“I’m fine!” the redhead jumps right up. “Coffee didn’t even spill.”

You look to your friends with a stunned look- how could she be okay? But then she’s limping her way up the steps to the school, and you sigh. She isn’t fine- nowhere near fine.

“Has she always limped like that?” Janine asks the group.

“No. No she has not,” you grumble under your breath as you head in behind your girlfriend.

She’s still limping down the hall with all of her things when you catch up to her.

“Hun,” you just barely manage to get out before you break into a bit of a coughing fit. Still, you grab her bags and loop an arm around her waist to help steady her.

The redhead shrugs you off and continues to hobble her way down the halls towards her classroom. “I’m fine. It’s you who isn’t.”

“Babe,” you shake your head. “You took a tumble, and it’s clear you’re hurting.”

“Ain’t the first time,” Melissa replies. “Won’t be the last.”

“At least let me look at your ankle when we get inside?” you ask as you stop in front of her door.

Green eyes glance to you for a second, and she can tell that you’re truly concerned about her. “Y/N.”

“Please,” you sigh. “I’m worried with the way you’re limping.”

The breath that she lets out tells you that she’s annoyed, but she relents. “If I say yes, will you get off my back?”

You raise brow at the attitude, but you cut your losses and nod. As soon as she’s in her classroom and settled to a certain degree, she’ll falling into her chair with a groan. You feel bad, but you have to unlace her boot and pull it off of her foot. It hurts your heart to hear the way that she hisses in pain at the action.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. You peel her sock off, and you can immediately see that her ankle is swollen at least double the size what it’s supposed to be. “Hun, you need to go to the doctor.”

“There ain’t no damned way that’s happening.”

You look to your girlfriend with a deep sigh. “Lissa.”

“I’m not going,” the redhead stands her ground.

“It’s already swollen,” you tell her. You prod around the area and when she nearly shouts in pain, you just gesture to it pointedly.

“It’ll heal up in no time.”

“At least let me get you ice,” you request softly. 

“I can get it,” Melissa tells you as she goes to pull her sock back on. She halts her motion though when she feels the pain flare up again.

“Melissa, now is not the time to be stubborn,” you grumble out as you turn on your heel to get ice from the staff room. By the time that you fill a couple of bags with ice, brew another two cups of coffee, and return down to the redhead’s classroom, she’s grunting and groaning trying to get her shoe on.

“Melissa Schemmenti, stop being so damn stubborn, and just accept my help,” you rasp out as you pull her shoe off again, ignoring the way she winces. “Shouldn’t have tried to put it back on when I told you I would get it for you myself.”

“An’ I told you I’d be fine. I should be the one takin’ care of you,” Melissa spits out. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” And then she gasps at the cool sensation on her foot.

“Twenty minutes,” you tell her sternly. “I don’t want to see you up and moving today. You can teach from your chair.”

“But-”

“Melissa,” you grit through your teeth. “I know you don’t want help or to admit that it hurts, but I’m seriously concerned. So, if you aren’t going to do this for yourself, will you at least do it for me?”

The pleading look in your eyes, along with the strained voice, finally get her to quit fighting you. “Fine. But when we get home, I’m taking care of you.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her temple. You make your way out, having to prepare a few things for your own classroom. As you’re leaving, you mumble under your breath, “That’s if we aren’t at the hospital for your damned ankle.”

Come lunch time, you line your kids up and march them down the hall to your girlfriend’s room. She’s still sitting in her chair, one shoe off, but she looks pissed beyond hell.

“I’ll take your kids down, grab our lunches, and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“I can come down to the staff-” she pauses briefly at your glare. “I’m coming down. But if you wouldn’t mind taking my class down to the cafeteria?”

“Fine.” You’ll take what you can get.

By the time that you’ve dropped all of the kids off in the lunch room and ensured that they have a plan for lunch, Melissa has hopped about halfway down the hallway.

“You’re ridiculous,” you sigh as you catch up with your girlfriend easily.

Green eyes are rolled, and she huffs and groans as she continues down towards the staffroom. You simply loop your arm around her waist again.

“Can you put any pressure on it?” you ask.

“Enough.” She steps on it, but you see the massive amount of pain she is in when she does.

You quirk your lips to one side, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you help guide her to a chair before pulling your lunches out of the fridge and setting it down in front of her. You pluck her mug from her hand and refill it with another helping of coffee, spoon the sugar out for her, and get the creamer for her.

“Thanks,” she kisses your cheek gently.

You manage to get her to ice her injury again without much of a fight.

The rest of the day passes by just fine, and come the end of the day, you’re both standing outside dismissing your kids. You can see the way that she’s favoring her one side though and how she’s smiling through the pain. Honestly, you’re surprised she even managed to get her shoe back on, much less make her way outside.

But then the bell rings to signify that teachers can leave, and you watch her grunt and groan her way to the car.

“Let me drive,” you try to convince her.

She waves you off. “I can drive.”

The entire drive home, you can see in her face just how much she’s trying to suppress her pain. You don’t say anything though- hopefully she learned her lesson after today’s drive back home.

She leans over the middle console once she’s put the car in park and kisses you softly.

“Don’t kiss me,” you rasp out. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I have the immune system of a bull,” your girlfriend tells you, and then she plants another one you. “I just… thank you for trying to take care of me today. But I promise you, I’m fine. I should be the one taking care of you right now.”

She presses her forehead against yours, only to frown as she pulls away. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you mutter. “Just goin’ to be an early night tonight.”

It is an early night for you. Practically right after dinner, you practically drag your exhausted body up the steps and crawl into bed.

You expect the redhead to make her way up not shortly after you, but she doesn’t. You resort to texting her.

Are you coming to bed?

I will, is the response you get. Just catching up on the Bachelor, and then I’ll be up. Get some sleep though, hun.

Okay, you type back. Goodnight. I love you.

I love you too.

Melissa doesn’t make her way up the steps that night. She can hardly manage to get comfortable on the couch with her ankle throbbing the way it is, and she doesn’t think she could manage the way that your legs always tangle together in sleep right now.

You hardly notice that she isn’t laying there next to you, sound asleep after taking some NyQuil to help your own symptoms.

But come the next morning, you realize that you aren’t waking up in her arms like you usually would.

“Mel?” you attempt to get out. You curse silently when all that comes out of your mouth is air.

You hear her groan from downstairs, and then you hear that familiar sound of a body being peeled off of the plastic covered couch. With a soft sigh, you begin to prepare yourself for the next day of school. You hear the grunts coming from your girlfriend downstairs as she attempts to get herself up the steps to get ready for work herself.

“Hey gorgeous,” you hear her low morning voice as you feel her warm arms wrap their way around your midsection. She presses a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug before pointing to her with raised eyebrows.

“No voice still?” the redhead asks, and you shake your head before gesturing to her again. “Hurts a little, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”

You give her a look of disbelief, but she just kisses you again and smiles as she reaches for her own toothbrush.

Of course, she insists on driving again. Walking into the school takes longer than usual for your girlfriend, her limp more apparent than it was yesterday. She really can’t put any pressure on her ankle without gasping in pain. 

She plops herself into a seat before attempting to con any of the other people in your friend group to make the two of you coffee.

Janine, of course it’s Janine, tells the redhead that it’s clear that she’s worse than she was yesterday and that her ankle needs medical attention.

Your girlfriend, in true Schemmenti fashion, argues that. And then Gregory is telling her that what she rhetorically asked is exactly what a doctor would do for.

“Hun,” you rasp out. “You couldn’t even make it up to bed last night.”

“I fell asleep watching Housewives, Y/N,” Melissa sighs as she runs the pad of her thumb over your knuckles. “Jeez.”

That day after school, you’re laying on the couch with your eyes half closed. God, whatever you have is really throwing you for a loop. But you can’t let yourself fall asleep because you’ve vowed to yourself that if your injured girlfriend needs help, you will be the one to help her.

She only continues to shrug off your offers to help, claiming that she can do it all herself. That is, until you practically force her to sit down on the couch next to you with a pack of ice. You lift her leg and set it up on the coffee table with a pillow propped under it. And then you gently lay the ice down. She gasps at the sensation, and then her eyes darken.

“Y/N,” she kicks the ice away. “I said I’m fine. I said I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Can you just- quit it?”

“I won’t ‘just quit it’, Melissa. It’s clear that you’re hurt, and I really should be taking you to the hospital for your ankle.”

“Jesus Christ,” your girlfriend mumbles. “Leave me alone about it. Hun, I’m fine. I promise you- it’s just going to be sore for the next couple of days, and then I’ll be right as rain. Just, trust me?”

“Fine,” you scoff. “If you want me to leave you alone, then I will.”

You make your way up the steps and lay in bed, saddened by your girlfriend’s words. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when she comes in and kisses your head softly. “I love you.”

You sigh softly. “If it isn’t better by tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”

“Sure,” Melissa huffs. Then she softens. “Why don’t you take a nap, mi amore? I know you’re tired.”

You finally give in and give your body what it wants- rest, full rest. You don’t wake up until the next morning when your alarm is going off on your phone.

While you’re asleep though, Melissa thinks. She really doesn’t want to go to the doctor, but her ankle isn’t getting any better. If anything, it’s getting worse. So, she has to take drastic measures. She manages to hop her way to the medicine cabinet and begins to rifle through it. Painkillers- nice. Are they expired? Yes. Does she care? No. She pockets them before laying back down on the couch with you and pulling you into her arms, kissing your head softly.

The next morning, it seems as though Melissa has done a 180. She’s walking around just fine, she’s in a much better mood, and there hasn’t been a complaint out of her mouth about the pain that she was in just yesterday.

“See?” Your girlfriend’s eyes sparkle as she cooks you breakfast. “I told you: I’m right as rain now, aren’t I babe?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss her cheek. “Okay, hun.” Oh thank God- you’re voice is at least somewhat back to normal.

She dances into the school and into the staffroom while you head off towards the bathroom, and your friend group is just as surprised as you were this morning to see how much better the redhead is feeling.

You’re walking into the staffroom just as your girlfriend admits that she found some painkillers at the house, and you practically jump to grab the bottle out of her hands.

“Those are mine.” You then continue to read the label.

“Melissa!” Barbara cuts in and grabs the bottle. She looks at the expiration date. “These are way passed expired!”

The redhead just waves a hand in dismissal, claiming that they still do the trick if you just double up on them. Before she can get another word out about how she’s feeling good, you have to leave. You storm out of the room, not caring that the door slams behind you. Your group of friends can hear your shoes hitting the linoleum tile with more force than usual. 

“What the hell was that?” Barbara asks quietly.

Even in her high stupor, Melissa knows- you’re mad that she would stoop to such a level. “She’s pissed… I- I need to go see the nurse.”

You’re enraged that your girlfriend would go as low to taking expired painkillers- ones that weren’t even hers to begin with. And then you’re more upset with yourself for not having thrown them out. After what feels like forever, you know that you have to get ahold of your emotions. You’re students will be walking in soon, and you can’t be this upset when they come in.

You take a deep breath, shake your hands out, and put that practiced smile on your face like you’ve had to do so many times before. The bell to allow the children to start making their way down to the classrooms chimes, and your brow furrows slightly. You hadn’t heard your girlfriend make her way down the hallway, which is odd; you can always hear her heeled boots.

Quietly, you make your way out of your classroom and into the hallway, standing where you can see the redhead’s room nicely. She’s sitting at her desk, body turned to face the doorway… and she isn’t wearing her boots? She doesn’t even have a shoe on her injured foot. It’s actually elevated with ice resting on it.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself. 

Your girlfriend sees that you’re looking at her curiously, and she just shrugs apologetically to you. You roll your eyes and head back into your own classroom.

Come lunch time, Melissa is still sitting in her chair, teaching from her desk. Her kids are lining up to head out, but she doesn’t so much as move. Her class ends up tagging onto the end of your line as they’ve done for the past few days. You drop them all at the cafeteria before making your way into the staff room.

“Where’s Melissa?” you roll your eyes as you grab your lunch from the refrigerator.

“Her classroom,” Barbara tells you. “I took her down her lunch and an ice pack.”

You nod before taking your salad out of the room with you and making your way back down the hall towards your girlfriend.

When you can see her, she’s sitting at her desk with her foot propped up and the aforementioned ice pack resting over the bruise.

“Hey,” Melissa waves you in quietly.

You just look to her as you stand in her doorway. “I’m beyond pissed with you, you know,” you say flatly.

“I know,” the redhead sighs. She gestures for you to come in. You do, taking a student chair and pulling it up to her desk.

Her hand very quickly finds its way into your own, squeezing it gently. “Mi amore.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

You pull your hand from hers. “I mean, seriously, Melissa. Denying my help, telling me that you were just fine when you clearly weren’t, and then stooping so low as to stealing my painkillers that were expired? You have to be kidding me!”

“I-” Your girlfriend cups your cheek gently. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you huff.

“I fucked up by not letting you help me, I know I did,” the redhead admits quietly. “I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I’ve never had anyone so willing to look after me when I’m not at a hundred… Joe always left me to my own devices, and other flings didn’t care enough to help.”

“I’m not Joe,” you hiss. “And I’m certainly not just some stupid little fling of yours.”

Soft lips meet your own. “I know. I know you aren’t. You’re you, and you care so deeply for me and are so willing to take care of me. But you have to understand that I’m not used to that. I’ve always had to fend for myself.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you sigh.

“I know,” Melissa mumbles. “But I- I-” She shakes her head softly as she tries to figure out how she wants to word this. “I didn’t want to be dependent on you, especially while you were sick. So I made a stupid decision- one that I entirely regret, because it clearly hurt you and made you feel like I didn’t need you, when I do.”

You nod along.

“And after you stormed out of the break room today, I really knew I fucked up. So… I went down to the nurse, asked Barbara to bring me my lunch and an icepack, and I scheduled an appointment to check out my foot once school is over.”

“You did?” you ask quietly.

Your girlfriend nods. “I did. And… I was kinda hoping my beautiful girlfriend would take me there after work today?”

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and tell her that you would’ve done that days ago. Instead you just give her a tight lipped smile and nod. “You know I will. But I’m driving.”

The next morning, you carry your things on one shoulder and Melissa’s things on the other. You ensure that she can easily make her way into the school with her crutches now.

“So you went to the doctor?” Janine asks when she sees the two of you making your way down to the classroom.

“Grade two ankle sprain, wrist bruise, knee abrasion,” your girlfriend relays. “So… you know, no big deal, like I said.”

You give her a look in disbelief.

“Okay, okay,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “So, maybe a bigger deal than I thought it was. But I’ll be alright, because I know I have my wonderful girlfriend to help take care of me while I get back to one hundred percent.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, Schemmenti. Let’s go. You gotta ice your ankle again before the kids get here.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[unimportantweirdo]

so i took an ocd test on a whim and then i took 3 more

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

i hate this vyvanse shortage i’m so sick of it wishing every pharmaceutical executive a personal go to hell. also wishing every insurance company executive a personal go to hell. and to whoever invented the us healthcare system sending you an extra special fahr zur hölle if you would be so kind bitte

[ghostickle]

Sometimes I’ll see like certain pictures of myself and just. god I Look sick

[xneens]

just a friend

he’s just a friend … but.

He’s just a friend, but he sleeps over almost every night. Whether you’re begging him to stay the night because you need a pillow or angry with him for insulting your friends, he’s there on your bed, substituting as a body pillow. No matter what position you fall asleep in, you always wake up draped across his chest, face nuzzled against the crook of his neck.

He’s just a friend, but he spoils you constantly. He gifts you a diamond tennis bracelet when your cat dies, hoping to cheer you up. He buys a convertible when you finally get your driver’s license, grinning when he sees your gleeful face. He showers you with your favorite flowers when get into your dream college. He buys whatever you look at when you take him shopping, repaying him with a kiss on the cheek, and it’s enough for him.

He’s just a friend, but you’re his only soft spot. Everyone else walks on eggshells around him, worried about being in his warpath. Even his own family wasn’t an exception to his hostility, especially after he stopped trying to win his dad’s approval. He does everything you want him to because why wouldn’t he? Hold your bag? No problem. Pick you up from a party? His pleasure. Stop being a rich, egotistical asshole? For you and you only.

He’s just a friend, but he’s your date to every formal and informal function. It’s just easier that way, you both explain to your friends. Midsummer’s preparation goes smoother when you already have a date, someone who will dance with you without complaint, someone who’ll make fun of whatever headpiece Rose is wearing, and someone who’ll sneak out early to drive their dad’s boat to another island.

He’s just a friend, but he knows everything about you. He comes with you to the doctor, dentist, and gyno visits for moral support, sometimes going in the room when needed. You had brought up being codependent but he quickly waves it off. He’s stocked a drawer in his bathroom with tampons and pads, and a few bottles of Tylenol in case you get your period on the nights you stay at Tanneyhill. He carries a cooler filled with water in his car because he knows you hate the intense heat. He wears an extra pair of sunglasses tucked in his shirt for you when you both go to the beach because you always manage to forget yours.

He’s just a friend, but his family thinks you’re dating. Sarah keeps asking you if you are, hoping to drag the truth out. You tell your friend no, laughing at the thought. Ward sits him down to talk after catching him admiring you during breakfast. He stays silent. Rose questions you about what she should give Rafe for his birthday, thinking the same as her husband. You laugh again at the thought, not noticing the way his jaw clenches when you make fun of the idea.

He’s just a friend, but he hates it when guys flirt with you. You’re too pretty to be entertaining guys who are far below you. He strains a muscle from resisting the temptation to punch the man standing too close to you, bicep veins popping out from the resistance. He drags you away when the guy tries to cage you against the wall, making up an excuse, needing help with containing a drunk Wheezie.

He’s just a friend, but he can’t go a minute without thinking about you. When life separates you, despite Rafe’s plans to be at your side twenty-four-seven, he texts you. He ignores Topper and Kelce’s snickers as he pulls his phone out during a round of golf, taking a picture of the sunset to send to you. His friends’ teasing is worth it when you text him back, telling him how much you like his improving photography skills.

He’s just a friend, but he can’t fight the urge to attack the guy kissing you. He blacks out, rage consuming every cell in his body as he breaks the man’s nose and grasps his throat until his hands leave bruises. His brain doesn’t focus until you’re back in his line of sight, blue eyes meeting yours. Despite the man coughing on the ground, surrounded by concerned partygoers, you pay no attention to the injured, instead, pulling Rafe away before yelling at him in his room.

He’s just a friend, but he’s at your door with flowers, apologizing. He stammers out an apology because he was never good at them, and never had the maturity to admit he was wrong and beg for forgiveness. When you stare at him with a blank look, he gets desperate, taking your hands in his and slowly dropping to his knees, eyes pleading with you. He promises to never get that violent again, and you believe him because Rafe Cameron could never lie to you.

He’s just a friend, but he kisses your forehead every night after you fall asleep, waiting for you to doze off before doing so. He presses his lips to your head, warmth in his heart as it yearns for yours.

He’s just a friend, but he wants to be more.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they dream of you at night

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(tw: just slightly sad)

✧ “In the hidden corners where the gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming” - and one said person, Pierro, can be found within the grand Palace of Snezhnaya. He solemnly sits by the window, his icy blue eyes gazing off into the dark winter night of this snowy land.

He often does that, when the night becomes silent and the world is still. Pierro wishes he could dream, yet 500 years of cursed immortality can corrode one’s mind into feeble numbness. Thus, the Fatui Director substitutes his dreamless nights with daydreams of you. Silent fantasies of your voice, images of cupping your jawline, a tender caress to your form. The jester’s daydreams are the only thing keeping him sane, preserving the memory of your skin and love alive in his mind. 

And even if his nights are bleak and dreamless, he would rather settle for maladaptive daydreams. When the Jester gazes at the fake stars of Teyvat, hanging by the firmament as a lifeline, so does he yearn to daydream of you - living in the day just for the memory of your embrace. Alas, only the harsh nights of Snezhnaya are witness to his wistful gazes. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the world is full of battles and wars; conflicts initiated by the ignorant ones, those who care naught for the innocent. Therefore, the only moment of solace that the Captain can afford is in his dreams. Dreams in which his vision is not haunted by the bloodshed of battlefields, but instead by simple dreams of you. 

In those dreams, the world is plain and quiet. He often sees you in it, occupying his thoughts. Sometimes you’d talk and ramble nonchalantly, occasionally he’d see you collecting small chamomile flowers by the grass. Those dreams are uneventful, yet for the Captain, such peacefulness is a luxury he cannot afford. An image of you and him by a quiet valley, a gentle breeze idling by, and having all the time to relish each other’s endless conversations. No thoughts of warfare, only the unwinding sound of your voice.

The Captain is not ashamed to admit he dreamt of you. In fact, he’d candidly say it during the most random of times - “I saw you in my dreams again.”

You’d glance at him and muse - “Oooh, really? Maybe you just miss my company!”

The Harbinger's mask remains pitch black, devout of any expression that might tell whether he reciprocates your little teasing. But besides the occasional clank of chains from his helmet, a low chuckle will escape him. Therefore, The Captain would lean to sit closer to you, his body less tense whenever he is in your presence. Even your silence is a remedy to his soul.

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I really do.” 

✧ Il Dottore hates dreaming. Sleep, in its entirety, is a redundant form of rest that the human body requires. An utter waste of time. Thus, as a scientist who modified his own body to perfection, it’s unsurprising that he can go on for days without sleep. The Doctor can be efficient with his time, although that’s not why he semi-biologically modified his body. It’s because he hates dreaming of you. 

You are always there in his dreams, along with his younger self. The nostalgic warm sunlight of Sumeru basks onto you, and in those dreams, he sees you in the familiar hallways of the Akademiya. Dottore does not consider those dreams pleasant, since they make him uneasy of the grave past. He doesn’t like seeing himself so simple and young, in his Akademiya uniform. He doesn’t enjoy seeing your tender smile as you clutch your books closer to your chest and lock your gaze with him. He doesn’t like how his dream self always yearns to come closer and embrace you tight. As if young Zandik could’ve held you one more time, and all his troubles would dissipate by the warm sun.

Yet no matter the place or outcome of the peaceful dream, every time that young Zandik tries to reach for your face or seek your lips, you’re always an arm-length away. The hallways of the Akademiya loom threateningly, pulling you further away from him, your warmth becoming unreachable. How naive. He should be better than this. Now he sits up in bed, awake and hands clenched around his hair with trepidation. He hates how his body wants to cry for the memory of you in his dreams. He really hates dreaming.

✧ The fact that Scaramouche even possesses the faculties to dream is what made him the individual he is today. Whether he curses his ability to do so or not, it doesn’t matter. He is no longer the naive Kabukimono he once was, in fact, he doesn’t even require to mimic sleep as humans do. But only you know the truth. During still nights, when the two of you doze off under the warm futons, the Balladeer’s hand would unconsciously grip yours, then followed by silent sobs.   

In his dreams, he sees many events unfold. Sometimes, he sees himself left to live in the squalor like a common critter, discarded and abandoned. Sometimes, he sees the familiar Tataratsuna huts. But more often, he sees you there in his dreams. Back in the warm plains of Yashiori Island, you let him rest his head on your lap. You are dressed in a snug kimono that the fabric's comfort etches onto Scaramouche’s memories eternally. In his dreams, he rests idly in your embrace, by your lap, while you caress his hair. 

Those dreams are delightful at first as if his memories as Kabukimono reinvoke themselves and immortalize the softness of your body and the soothing motion of your hands in his subconscious. But quickly, those dreams shift into agonies. Sometimes, in those dreams, you turn and desert him, while he is left on his dirtied knees to plead for your return. Sometimes, those nightmares show him that it is your heart that can ebb the Tatarigami within Mikage Furnace. And just before he's forced to rip your beating core and relive another memory, he awakes.

“Scara?! Scara…?” - you whispered in the dimness of the night, shaking him awake. “You were crying in your sleep. Another nightmare?”

The Puppeteer said nothing. He lay awake, startled as tears involuntarily streamed down his cheeks. With twitching eyes, he quickly clings around your waist, burying his face against you to conceal his tears. No words needed to be exchanged as his body shook, while you hushed and hugged him. This was the reason why Scaramouche avoided dozing off into sleep ever again.

Regardless of the content of his nightmares, he’d never admit you caressed his hair and soothed him the same way you did in his dreams. 

✧ Pantalone is in bed, restless. Turning from side to side, or readjusting his pillows becomes a futile endeavor to find solace when his bed is lacking you. You are out there, on an expedition, busy exploring Teyvat. Your trip might take another few days, yet Pantalone is alone in a bed that often nestled you close together. Where do your feet take you, the Harbinger ponders to himself. Hence, while you are away, the Regrator is forced to make amends with the bedroom that feels considerably empty, considerably cold, considerably foreign - all because it's missing you. 

In the late, voiceless hours of the night, his dreams blend with his yearning for you. He misses pressing your entire form against his lean body, as it often allows him to fall asleep easily. With you in his arms, chest pressed to another, he knows - you are safe. You are with him. Unfortunately, you are away, and the night feels unwelcoming. For now, Pantalone has to clutch a pillow in his sleep to substitute his feeling of holding you. Even as he sleeps with worry, he hopes somewhere out there, in a foreign land, you are dreaming of him the same way he’s dreaming of you. 

✧ When Tartaglia drifts off into dreamland, his mind is still half-busy with thoughts of you. So much so that his plans blend into his dreams. Thoughts about what he should buy you while he’s away on a mission. Ideas on where to purchase your favorite local specialties. Or perhaps how he should surprise you when he comes back home.

His brain is so enthusiastically occupied with plans to bring you souvenirs, that his dreams come up with countless scenarios of how you’d greet him upon arrival. He’d envision your joyous surprise, endearing pouts, or teasing smiles. And sometimes, if his dreams are more daring, Childe might accidentally dream of some sweet rewards that will leave him waking up in a cold sweat, panting, and body craving. 

Either way, he is rushing back to you the moment his mission is over. His dreams of you might leave him hot and bothered, but your love in real life is much more tantalizing than anything his desperate dreams could conjure up. 

[seeliemansi]

You Took Him Home (Mr. Crawling x Reader)

Synopsis: There is no ghost in the abandoned rumored haunted building your friends dared for you to visit. No, not anymore. Because you took it- you took him home. And you are not sure how to ask him to go back home. (He is just so sweet, cute, and adorable)

a/n: would love and appreciate your feedbacks, reblogs and likes! let's keep the homicipher community alive! 🫶🏼 btw, this is just a test draft

—------------

“You're firing me?” You asked, terrified.

“No….no…no! You misunderstood.” Principal Sarah shook her head in disagreement. Hands waving in front. “We just think..” She paused. “That you needed more rest. We love to have you here. The kids love you. The parents trust you. It's just-”

You got lost on what the principal was saying as your attention was caught by the crawling man, giggling at the ABCD cards posted on the wall. He looked at you, and happily pointed at the word “A” with an illustration of an apple. Apple, the word he learned today. He chirply said apple and giggled when you dare to steal a nod in his direction, praising him, so he won't bother your important talk.

However, your face contorted in concern as he continued crawling around the floor and looking for things he wasn't familiar with.

“Uhm…are you listening?” Your eyes snapped back to the principal, who was now looking behind her, frowning, as she tried to look at whatever it was behind her that made your brows furrowed with concern.

“Ah! Yes, yes. I will happily take the break. I’ve- The accident was just so traumatizing that sometimes my mind tends to wander. I know my doctor already said that I can continue working but I am grateful that you will allow me to have more breaks. As long…as you know you are not firing me.” You try to bring her attention back to you. Biting your cheeks at the inside as you try to focus on your problem at hand. And ignore the sound he is making as he crawls around.

“As I said before, we are not firing you. The substitute teachers will take over your class while you are gone. And we hope that it will help with your full recovery. You are a good teacher. I admit that I don't want to lose you. I wish you well.” She said, eyes sincere and warm hands squeezed your shoulder with reassurance. You can only give her a genuine smile, and was just grateful for her trust.

Because sincerely, you are not sure how you are going back to normal after a one week break when you know damn well that Mr. Crawling will be in your home forever.

Because….uhmm…well….you invited him in.

You cannot even blame yourself as to why.

How could you not?!

He saved you from the falling debris, when a part of the abandoned building collapsed. He took the fall and even bled, you were not sure how ghosts bleed, when they are already dead but he did, and hugged you tightly to protect you.

He even gave you head pats to calm you down when you panicked, thinking you are not going to be back home anymore. You will lose your hard earned career, your hardwork, your dreams.

And even follows you around as you look for the exit, being helpful and cheerful to keep your mind off the panic that sets in when it's just you and the silence.

No soul exchange, no money involved, he was just happy he was able to help you.

So when you finally found the way out, you thanked him and left. Thinking that was it, grateful for his kindness.

But one day, before you started teaching again, you went back and found him at the same spot, at the same position before you left him, waiting for you to come back. It was a week after that but he waited patiently for you. The way you watch his crestfallen face lights up when he sees you. His giggle; loud and cheerful. His smile is so wide, warm, familiar, and welcoming.

So how could you not!?

So how could you just leave him behind?

Well, maybe that one week is just you training yourself how you get used to his presence. And not act like a crazy person after a very traumatizing accident.

Ah…yes.. that's that.

You can do it.

You nodded as you lie to yourself and squat down and stared at the item Mr. Crawling was pointing at, and asking for you to share what it was.

[notalittleatall]

Bonesaw hrt would be so fucked up. Turns out it actually works way faster if you remove the blood first and strain out all the wrong hormones. Rather than estrogen she would use a synthetic substitute thats 200% more efficient but also has side effects that no one on earth has ever had before and is going to baffle any doctor you see about it. One day you just cough up a worm-lobster thing that wriggles away down the sink. And you call her about it and she says “Oh it left! That means ur done :)” and u just gotta accept that that thing was in your intestines transing your gender for the last few months. Cheap though so who can say

[hollowwhisperings]

The difference is much more one of martial status than birth or social station: there is also that Awkward Reality that, while Wei Wuxian behaved & was generally treated as a "Young Master" (due to his fostering & lack of true peers, strength-wise)... there was no sect to stand behind him.

The burning of Lotus Pier left the membership of Yunmeng Jiang to be as follows:

Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin (16/17 years old). Wielder of Sandu & Zidian.

Jiang Yanli (19 y/o ~ early 20's). Non-combatant.

Wei Wuxian (17 y/o). No longer wielding Suiban.

That's it. Everyone else was dead.

There was no Sect, no homebase nor material assets, no elders nor fellow cultivators... nothing & no one to support any of the Jiang siblings, Wei Wuxian included. The only things standing between WWX and a powerhungry mob were WWX himself, "Sandu Shengshou", and Courtesy.

"Courtesy" is what enabled the Jiang to sit in War Councils, the "time" to search for their MIA brother, troops to help them reclaim Lotus Pier, food to eat, allies to guard their backs when they slept. After the War, "Courtesy" kept debtors at bay: all those "loans" (of troops, resources and "good will") accrued during the War to be Repaid (with interest). "Courtesy" kept Yumeng Jiang from being completely overrun by anyone & everyone so they could "have" their Formal Mourning periods. "Courtesy" was what kept Debtors from showing up at the Jiang's doorstep, demanding repayment in the form of Wei Wuxian. The Jin wanted him as a Pet Researcher. Gusu Lan wanted him as an emergency patient. Various minor sect leaders wanted him as a rentable army-of-one, an instructor, a head on a spike (etc). Sandu Shengshou had the "Right" of Outraged Refusal because Courtesy gave him that right, as Wei Wuxian's Sect Leader.

It is this "Courtesy" that Wei Wuxian was not reciprocating.

While we, the readers, Know WWX literally Couldn't (he was a freshly malnourished mortal drinking himself into forgetting the past 2-ish years entirely)... his Sudden Inability to Be Courteous was Dangerous.

(for himself & Yunmeng Jiang, politically; for everyone, as veterans of a very recently ended war)

Yunmeng Jiang didn't really become an Actual Sect again until Jiang Yanli's marriage to Jin Zixuan: her hueband was a powerful ally, being a peer to her brothers in sword cultivation, and a Useful Blockade between the powerhungry (his father, most obviously) and the still-fragile Yunmeng Jiang (without WWX, its martial strength was Jiang Wanyin + his new reputation as "Sandu Shengshou").

That Jin Rulan survived his father's death spoke of Powerful Protectors, Jiang Yanli's death told us who was "Protecting" him: people seeking a "justification" to play Regent to her son-as-figurehead. Without Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli & Jin Rulan were effectively hostages of the Jin: Jin Rulan remained a hostage, even despite Jiang Wanyin's best efforts, all the way to the events at the Guanyin Temple.

Yunmeng Jiang was never in a position to protect itself, not after the Burning of Lotus Pier, let alone support its most valuable & dangerous asset (WWX): similarly, the Jiang siblings could not support their brother because, 1) he would not let them & 2) the only one "qualified" to help WWX in the way he needed... was Wen Qing, considered by WWX as being the foremost doctor in the Cultivation World.

The Jiang siblings did not have the skillset of An Actual Medical Doctor nor any "sufficiently" similar traumatic experiences that would allow them to Recognise or Relate to the [horrific ball of poor coping mechanisms & self-destruction] that had so changed their brother: what little WWX recalls from this time is his being Drunk or Trying To Get Drunk (a cheaper effort, with him so "freshly" malnourished & sans a golden liver but still costlier than his family could really afford at that time).

The only people WWX "believed" he could confide in were the Dead, as evidenced by those ghost girls LWJ was so jealous of &, later, Wen Qionglin.

Wen Qing was probably singlehandedly responsible in "postponing" WWX's self-destruction until after [politics] "Shot First": she Knew His Biggest Secret & had a somewhat "comparable" experience to his Surviving the Burial Mounds (via being a POW &, previoisly, Wen Ruohan's personal physician).

Yunmeng Jiang was never famous for its healing arts but, again, the Sect only had three known survivors. The Jiang siblings, meanwhile, could not recognise that WWX's needs were Medical and that "have you tried meditating" was no longer a viable option.

WWX refused any & all help right until Wen Qing, most Esteemed Doctor in the setting (by WWX's reckoning), showed up. That she Knew of his "pre-existing condition" made her uniquely qualified, from WWX's perspective, and her Past as Wen Ruohan's personal physician made her "safe" to confide in (if Wen Qing had not personally witnessed "worse things" than what WWX might confide, she at least had "experience" in concealing any Judgement or Pity).

The circumstances were universally terrible: even if Wei Wuxian had been officially adopted into the Jiang family, made into his younger brother's "heir" in their family register, his lack of a Golden Core & his "refusing" to follow protocol by openly carrying his weapons would still be a Problem.

Nie Huaisang could "get away with" what he did becauae he spent his entire life making him the subject of piteous vitriol, of "humiliating" himself & his Sect. Nie Huaisang was considered a walking joke, publically scorned for his entire life, ridiculed and the only "expectation" that cultivators not of his Sect had for him was "cowardice". He cultivated this image, on purpose, his entire life: if he was seen with a weapon, someone would joke it was more dangerous to NHS than anyone else.

Wei Wuxian had never truly concerned himself with his public image: this is a Plot Point. Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli were little better, when it came to politics: they were their parents' children (but withhout the decades of experience to compensate for it). The only thing that could have made Wei Wuxian's breaking protocol non-problematic, short of having Bao San-Ren fly by to give his dizi her "Seal of Approval" (& threatening imminent mortality on anyone saying otherwise), would be stripping WWX of any power by outing himself as being without a Golden Core. He would additionally need to Destroy the Stygian Tiger Seal with every Sect standing witness, erase his own memories of [developing necromancy], and Lie that the Seal could have only been created in the extreme circumstances of [blatant lies], ideally with Bao San-Ren nodding along to said Lies.

In short: Wei Wuxian was screwed. The extent to which he and his "foil", Jin Guangyao, were "screwed over" by Circumstances Beyond Their Control is matched only, perhaps, by the times everyone was screwed over by Flagrant Miscommunication.

It's why the Juniors are always the "Hope Spot": they talk to each other, witnessing firsthand the Consequences of not doing so.

I like how Nie Huaisang straight up refuses to cultivate and carry a sword and no one has anything to say about that because he’s a sect heir but when Wei Wuxian, son of a servant, does it suddenly it’s a problem.

[househeritageposts]

nah you are not about to come onto my silly blog and call me and my houselings puritans as if we're not devoted fans of a show we literally call "hate crimes md"

this is the last time i'm going to post about this topic, but for the record:

i see absolutely nothing wrong with pointing out offensive + outdated episodes of a tv show that stopped airing over a decade ago, so that newcomers to the series can be aware of what they're diving into. god forbid i agree with someone saying that maybe a main character berating a 10 year old for being overweight is a little uncomfortable to watch!!!

the house fandom wiki has extremely detailed synopses of each episode so that you can get the overarching plot developments without having to subject yourself to house saying cruel shit to a patient that you've had to hear from doctors in your real life a million times. and they have a ranking system out of 10 for how rare the diagnoses in each episode are, which is delightful.

of course it's not the same as watching the whole series but if you have a problem with the portrayal of certain issues in the show, it's a fine enough substitute.

now everyone stop arguing and repost white boy wilson dance gif.

[oltammefru]

Civilight Eterna is an incredibly incredibly interesting character, and has so so much going on so I thought I'd share my read on her. First off, Civilight Eterna isn't Theresa. Like, at all. In her dialogue, she repeatedly says she's not Theresa, talks about Theresa as a person distinct from her, and seems uncomfortable when the Doctor treats her as if she is Theresa.

The way I see it, she is actually far more like Kal'tsit and Amiya than she is Theresa. Once you accept that, I think Civilight Eterna becomes an incredibly, incredibly interesting character who provides a large amount of great characterization to Theresa.

The real Theresa is dead and gone and erased forever now, but ironically, if anything, after ep14, the narrative is far more haunted by Theresa than it ever was. For the most part, no one is particularly happy with CE being on the landship as she is: for Kal'tsit, who had finally come to terms with her grief and loss, all CE really does is dredge up all the pain and sorrow and hatred she felt about Theresa's death.

For the Doctor, she is a source of self-doubt and guilt over their past sins.

There's also an interesting contrast between her and the Doctor, as CE spells out, with one of them being an existence entirely of memory, and the other having none at all.

Amiya is mostly ok about her, but even for her, CE a reminder of who and what she has lost. She sees CE and understands and sees her not as Theresa, but as something else, but because of her resemblance to Theresa, she can't help but be reminded that Theresa is gone, and she won't be able to see anything she's done or gone through anymore.

Theresa, herself, is gone for good now, but the shadow of her last deed hangs over them all. CE as a character takes the enormous background presence Theresa has in the narrative and she makes it a lot more personal than it already is. As a character, CE takes the ghost of Theresa that's been haunting the narrative in the background and drags it kicking and screaming into the forefront, forcing the main trio to confront it.

The person most haunted by Theresa is Civilight Eterna herself. She was made with the purpose being a replica or substitute of Theresa, with the memories of Theresa, but she's really not her, and she's in fact quite bothered by such a concept. The impression I get from her files is that her arc as a character (provided they give her continued story content and don't just throw her by the wayside) is mostly about her struggles to find an identity for herself beyond the one she was assigned and was made to be (which very much parallels much of Amiya's struggles throughout the her entire character arc!)

In most of the story, Theresa is framed as this, almost mythical, larger-than-life figure, who you hear of often and her legacy greatly influences everything that unfolds, without actually appearing except in brief glimpses and flashbacks (until the story starts peeling back the curtain on her with Babel.) For someone as existent and present as CE is, there is no way that she could actually live up to the legendary figure that Theresa was, nor does she want to. The mythos surrounding Theresa is so great that just by virtue of being made to be like Theresa, this serves to erase any identity or personhood of her own she might have (once again, parallels with Amiya.)

(This is also somewhat painfully ironic on a meta-level. If you engage with CE's content at all, it spells out the fact that she is very much not Theresa, but just because she was made to resemble her, even the playerbase of the game thinks of and sees her as Theresa!).

The thing that's juiciest about this to me is that the relationship she has with Kal'tsit. Kal'tsit is maybe the one person who can truly empathize with CE and her mode of existence: both were made and instilled with some driving, defining purpose, but wish to carve out an identity of their own; both occupy some messy, intermediate state between humanity and inhumanity; and both struggle with the risk of being subsumed by some ideal or identity far beyond what they could possibly be. But instead, Kal'tsit can't bear to see the sight of CE, she gives her the cold shoulder, and is unwilling to meet her eyes. Even if Kal'tsit does understand that CE isn't really Theresa, she can't help but see her and think of Theresa, and for CE, this is incredibly, incredibly alienating, that the one person who should be able to truly understand her and her struggles to find an identity for herself, sees her more as the person she was made in the image of and could never really be, instead of her own person.

In light of the fact that CE's files state Kal'tsit has been avoiding CE is so fucked actually, especially when you think about this in the context of Lone Trail. Lone Trail takes place over an (in-setting) year after CE shows up, and despite this, she is never been mentioned or referenced at all, even obliquely. Has Kal'tsit just been coping about it for an entire year straight*? Like, here's about how I imagine this goes: The Doctor mentions CE to Kal'tsit exactly once and immediately gets the hint to not do so. They don't get a lecture about this. They don't even get a Kal'tsit Stinkface Talksprite. She just looks, however minutely, a slight bit more tired and sad. And so that's the last time they ever bring it up. And the thing is, CE has the same care and love that Theresa had, and she wants so so desperately for the people Theresa (and by extension her) cares about to be happy. And so if the only thing she can do for Kal'tsit is to remain completely out of Kal'tsit's sight, existence unacknowledged, no matter how much she might want to reach out, no matter how soulcrushing and painful it might be to do so, she would do this and bear all the pain, out of the love she has for Kal'tsit.

The main way we see Theresa characterized before Babel and Ep14 is through the things and people she's left behind: the people who lived because she died, a dream, a photo of her snuck when she wasn't looking (she was looking), a flower garden, a letter, a promise, a girl made to bear the weight of the world and an apology to her. CE is the last thing she leaves behind, her last act, her last sin before she exits the story for good. In particular, I think CE as a character is some really good final characterization for Theresa, one that serves to highlight her character flaws.

As a person, Theresa is sort of messy. I mean this specifically in the sense she is a person who does great and grand things, knowing that there will be consequences (both foreseen and unforeseen), and does them anyway, often leaving a mess in the process for others to pick up. In Warfarin's 2nd operator record: her attitude towards Theresa highlights this well, to her, no matter how noble her ideals and how good her intentions might be, the fact of the matter is that she is starting a civil war who which will get people killed. In this regard, I think her creation of CE fits her character perfectly. What she does in episode 14: finally being able to free the Sarkaz from the shackles of Originium, and making CE as a final act of care to Amiya, fulfilling her promise to Amiya to always be with her, but making a huge mess in the process, serves as a perfect capstone to Theresa as a character. Even though she is now gone, the effects of her last choice and legacy still hang over those who knew her.

*Of course it could also be that they wrote LT at a time where there were no plans to have CE be a character at all, but especially when it comes to things like this, HG does generally write things years ahead of time. The ending of Lone Trail does feel very much like it was written with Babel already in mind, and Vigilo was also clearly written with Babel in mind (see: Memoria specifically) despite being released several years before Babel.

[kykyonthemoon]

Hey can i ask for a request please?I'm big fan of you!Your writing is so good arghhhhh!Can i request Zayne x reader where they're like secretly dating but Zayne wanted to keep it as a secret but one day when we visit the hospital for checkup and a doctor from his hospital do the checkup caz Zayne got emergency something and that doctor start hitting on us but had to answer like we're single caz of the secret dating but Zayne got jealous and....u can make the rest of storyline as u please.Please if u want to write this kinds i'll be waiting!!I'm dying to see Zayne being jealous hehe

Dear sanc777,

Thank you so much for the request and kind words <3 Hope you enjoy this piece :3

His not-so-secret love affair

You and Zayne decided to keep your love affair a secret. It's all good, until another doctor starts hitting on you.

ಇ. Zayne x Female Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, secret dating, established relationship, jealousy

ಇ. Word count: 1k1

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Request

You went to Akso Hospital to have your regular health check-up. Normally, Doctor Zayne was in charge of this, but that day, he was at an unexpectedly important meeting. Since he did not want to delay updating your health status before an important mission, Zayne had requested that another doctor do your check-up.

At first, you assumed it was Greyson, who was frequently Zayne's substitute doctor. But even Greyson was busy too. So you had to take the documents to an unfamiliar doctor's office.

That doctor was rather young, having recently attended Akso Hospital. Even though he worked in the same department as Zayne, you'd never met him before. The check-up went well, and you were relieved since your health was better than expected - which you had Doctor Zayne to thank because he had always kept a close eye on you, since you started dating.

Even though you were officially dating, no one other than you two knew about it. The reason was because you had both agreed that this was not the right time to go public. You had many missions that required concentration, and Zayne was constantly concerned with maintaining professional boundaries between doctor and patient. Knowing this, you were the one who proposed keeping your love affair private for a while. Of course, Zayne agreed with you, but as time passed, you realized that being public or not would have little impact on either of you.

However, you soon had to reconsider that due to something that happened after your routine medical check-up.

You had nothing else to do here and had yet to return home. You strolled around the nearby area and waited in front of Zayne's office. You still wanted to see him before leaving. Your new mission started the day after, so you would not be able to see him for about a week. After a time, you noticed the doctor who had performed your previous check-up appear.

“You're not going home yet?” He asked. Then without waiting for an invitation, he sat down next to you.

The conversation that followed took an unexpected turn. You expected him to keep the same professional demeanor as previously throughout the check-up, yet he spoke extremely casual. Too casual.

“Why are you sitting in front of Dr. Zayne's office?”

“Ah…” You attempted to come up with an excuse. You could not let other people know that you and Zayne were actually dating. “I… My legs are tired so I sat down to rest for a bit.”

"Really? I thought you were intentionally waiting for Dr. Zayne to return.”

He laughed, and you felt very guilty.

“So…” He hesitated, then asked. “There's nothing between you and Zayne, right?”

"Huh?" You almost jumped up. Why would this person ask something like that out of the blue and make you panic?

“I mean, people in the hospital sometimes implied that Zayne and you were close. Sorry if I'm a bit nosy… It's just…”

"That's not true." You denied almost immediately. “Me and Zayne… We were childhood friends…”

Your heart ached. You wished you could tell him straight out that Zayne was your lover. Suddenly, you felt a bit regretful for wanting to keep this relationship a secret.

“Then, lucky me!” The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “So that means I have a chance?”

“What chance?” You asked again.

“If you are still single, and there's nothing going on between you and Doctor Zayne, may I have a chance to pursue you?”

As if a lightning had struck your ears, your entire body tensed. This doctor was just too careless. He only met you that day and had already asked you out in such a brazen manner. Confused, you didn't know how to react when you heard footsteps behind you and an immense hand with scars was placed on your shoulder.

“Who said there's nothing between the two of us?”

That was Zayne's voice. You turned around and gazed up at him. You had crimson cheeks. Zayne locked eyes with the young doctor seated next to you, the same kind of stare that sent chills down people’s spines. It was about time for him to turn into ice.

Doctor Greyson, who stood next to Zayne, immediately covered his mouth and laughed. He escorted the freezing doctor out of that place, saying as he walked:

“I already told you. Don't even dream of Doctor Zayne's girl...”

“But… But…”

Seeing him being dragged away was a pitiful sight. But the fun did not last long as you quickly followed Zayne into the office.

He did not say anything but simply checked the papers on the table. You frowned. Even though you did nothing wrong, that attitude of his made you feel as if you had just committed a crime.

“Zayne…” You called. “I didn't know why he asked me out…”

“If I didn't show up on time, how would you handle it?” Zayne suddenly interrupted you, and you immediately replied:

“Of course I would refuse him!”

Zayne seemed uneasy. He pulled the tie around his neck a little loose and admitted:

“It's all my fault. I shouldn't have allowed another doctor to do a check-up for you in the first place.”

“How could this be your fault? It's nobody's fault. This is just a small misunderstanding.”

“It's not a small matter.” Zayne said, but he did not look at you. He turned aside, his eyes focused somewhere on the potted plant you had given him by the window. “Not small at all.”

You moved closer and leaned against Zayne's desk. Your hand adjusted the chair he was sitting on so that he would face you. You voiced:

“Your expression like this looks like you're being… jealous, right?”

Zayne was not the type to wear emotions on his sleeve. But his attitude then, with a face like he had just been punched, a little irritated and a little unreconciled, you knew for sure it was jealousy. Instead of trying to deny it, Zayne said:

“It's uneasy to witness other people flirting with my girl.” He seized your wrists. Long, chilly fingers began caressing you. “I don't think I could endure this once more if it happens again.”

Zayne's eyes lowered, and you could hear the sulking in his voice.

“Doctor Zayne. It's unprofessional to date your patient.”

You giggled. Looking at his expression, you wanted to tease him a bit.

“Who said that?” Zayne leaned towards you. His head slid onto your lap. “Obviously, that person needs to loosen up a bit.”

The person mentioned was Doctor Zayne and no one else. He had said that a long time ago, before you two formally began dating. Sometimes, you would bring that up to give him a hard time.

“That's right. So now, Doctor Zayne wants to make his love affair public?"

You stroked Zayne's hair. He replied:

“I let everyone figure it out for themselves before. But it's time for an official announcement. I want the world to know, you are my girl.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Distorted.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

A Grab Bag Commission For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Summary: With the help of the Akasha system, Dottore strives to keep you happy and docile and, most importantly, unaware by his side.

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Unreality, Slight Gore/Blood, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Obsessive Behavior.

“Do you think Ajax is free?”

Dottore hummed thoughtfully, pressing his scalpel downward and severing a measured length of small intestine from the greater mass. With time to spare and the patient he was extracting his materials from long-dead, he took a minute aside to note the patches of scar tissue lining their internal tissue on a blood-spotted journal, to test for unusual viscosity or durability that’d have to be accounted for in his research. It was a minor study, something that would’ve been handed off to a younger branch of himself not yet ready to play a hand in more dire schemes, but due to the intervention of a certain archon, he was forced to carry out more of his own grunt work than he had in decades. Not that he minded getting his hands dirty, of course.

Especially when the same archon’s nation had given him such a lovely lab assistant to keep him company while he worked.

“Planning to replace me, little mouse?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. It’s your own dinner party, for the Tsaritsa’s sake.” He heard you sigh in mock exasperation, then again – your frustration more genuine. You were sitting at his desk, working away at whatever little task you’d assigned yourself, the ring of blue light encircling your head pulsing brightly. It was his own handiwork – a version of the Akasha system he’d been able to maintain even after returning to Snezhnaya. He had no idea where you thought you were, what you thought he was doing, what you saw through those clouded eyes, but he knew you couldn’t be here, in his dark, cluttered lab - couldn’t see your beloved husband, the man who you’d crossed half of Teyvat to stay with, elbow-deep in a vat of disembodied organs and viscera. That was what interested him most about your experiment, really. It was one thing to wonder how you’d react if you ever found out the man you loved had such grisly pastimes. It was another, to watch what lengths your mind would go to just to substitute your reality with a more palatable fantasy. When it suited him, he could play a more involved hand in your fabrication, make himself into a hero or a villain or something else altogether, but most days, he was content to let you create your own daydreams. You were the most obedient when you could make him into exactly what you needed, that day.

“To celebrate your return to Snezhnaya,” You went on, as he piled the segmented pieces of a malformed liver onto his scale. “Pierro says that you haven’t been holding up your social obligations. I know it’s not customary, but I thought it’d be nice to invite another Harbinger – so you don’t have to suffer a room full of noblemen and merchants alone.”

So you were aware of his status as a Harbinger, today. More often than not, you treated him like a neighborhood doctor, or a traveling scholar as far from home as you’d found yourself. Sometimes, he was a low-ranking diplomat, or a medic you could welcome home from the battlefield, but you rarely acknowledged him as something so dangerous, something so far above yourself. It must’ve been the occasion. It would’ve been hard to deny who he was when you were sending out the invitations to a Harbinger’s event.

On that note, he abandoned his work, positioning himself on the opposing side of your desk. He was already smiling – it was difficult not to, when you were in his position – but his grin broadened further as he looked over your half-finished guest list, your attempts at calligraphy scribbled across what little scrap paper you could find. “I believe Tartaglia was sent back to his post in Liyue last week.”

You pursed your lips. “Pantalone comes with good company.”

“And he charges market-price for every precious second of his time. You wouldn’t want to bleed me dry, now, would you?” You tilted your head to the side, pretending to consider it, and he let out a breathy laugh, rounding the table and settling behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “There must be an alternative.”

“Well,” You tilted your head back, your smile now matching his own. “It has been a while since I’ve heard Columbina sing–”

“Anyone but Columbina.”

“I write Pantalone a letter tonight, then.” You allowed yourself a moment to bask in your own self-satisfaction, leaning back in your seat and allowing your gaze to drift – first to your lap, then to your shoulders, where the blood and viscera coating your hands was beginning to soak into the fine ivory silk of your sleeves. There was a flash of repulsion, a sound not unlike a half-choked scream, and then you were shoving him away, your expression only growing more pained when he refused to move. He felt something tighten in his chest – not quite fear, but pure, zealous excitement. Had you, somehow, managed to break yourself out of your trance? Was there a flaw in the Akasha system he hadn’t accounted for? How much would you force yourself to forget, overwrite, warp and distort into something loving in the coming hours if you saw him for what he was, now?

“Zandik.” The sound of his name on your lips was to die for. He leaned down, pressing nipping at the corner of your jaw, and you groaned, brushing him away. “I’ve told you not to touch me while you’re painting. Look at me – it’s going to take ages to get this out of my clothes.”

Oh. Painting. How adorably quaint.

How adorably wrong.

With a sigh, he leaned down, pressing a fleeting kiss into the corner of your neck. You crossed your arms, sulking, but allowed him to. It wasn’t as if you’d be able to refuse. “Forgive me, darling.”

He straightened his back, watching red seep into white and begin to stain.

“I’m sure you’ll forget all about this in no time at all.”

[gayou01]

Astrology observations pt 31

DISCLAIMER- Placements will not play out the same way for everyone and having challenging placements + aspects does not mean that you are a bad person or that you will have a bad life. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. My observations and readings are not a substitute for professional medical help. Do not self-diagnose, go see a doctor please and thank you

-Virgo moons tend to have upset tummies/IBS when stressed out

-people with Uranus in the 6th house tend to like weird food combinations and/or dislike food combos that are generally well liked. They are picky eaters

-people with the 6th house cusp in Gemini (or heavy Gemini placements in general) get hit particularly hard by the common cold and may have breathing issues like asthma and bronchitis

-Pisces placements are prone to foot pain so comfortable footwear is important for these natives. Some of them can barely tolerate high heels

-people with the 5th or 6th house cusp in cancer may be prone to emotional eating

-moon-Neptune aspects can indicate depression and other mood disorders. If mercury is also aspected anxiety can be an issue

-there could be a correlation between mercury-Uranus aspects and conditions like ADHD and the autism spectrum in a general sense

-people with the 6th house cusp in scorpio especially need to watch out for STIs and possible reproductive issues, especially if mars is involved

-Capricorn placements tend to have bad knees…

-people with 6th house cusp in leo (or heavy leo placements) with Saturn in that house tend to have blood pressure issues, usually hypertension

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "What a beautiful flower you are"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a few words reminding you of how strong, worthy and important you are through every step of your journey. remind yourself of how flower can stand up in the rain and how they may grow through concrete. no matter what is going on, remember that at the end of the day you are always the best, strongest and most valuable flower around at any given time. you can't compare with anyone else, cause you're unique.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

You make beautiful things grow around whatever negative may happen. You find the positive side in anything that happens and know how to start all over again from anything, trying to make it better. You welcome and nurture what hurts, you transform it in seeds that one day will give life to beautiful flowers just like you. I think you help a lot especially people around you in this process of seeing and finding a positive side, a different side from which to look at what happens and what has happened. You give new povs and new life to scraps and past (it could also be something you like to do creatively/practically, btw). I think those coming in touch with you are deeply changed and inspired by you. You probably forget to use this beautiful habit of yours for yourself too. Please, include yourself into this. You're as deserving of beautiful things as others. Nurture your own pain too, and do anything you can to make it grow into something beautiful and bright as you. And don't close off from others, don't hide your pain from those who'd love to help you. Let them do it for you. You deserve as much as you give away.

song: obsessed | mariah carey (don't be overly obsessed in helping others to the point of codependency, help yourself as well)

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pile 2

You may have experienced some difficult relationships (eg. family, love, friends, colleagues...) and now you kind of buildt a multi-layered wall around your heart so that people won't be able to make you suffer/betray you again. And yes it's hard for people to get in and hurt you but also to love you. And yes it may make you feel strong and in control but I think you may be also struggling a lot because of this. Being so overprotective of yourself, despite ofc understandable (it's a defense mechanism), is making you feel lonely too because it's blocking your connections from growing. You've been through a lot and you're still here but it's not because of your walls that you made it through. It's because of the love that pulse inside of you. Have a talk with your emotions, with your wounded ego, and realize that not everyone is here to hurt you. You're very much hurting yourself first by not letting others in in fear of something that may never happen. You can survive anything, you can defend yourself, you can call people out or ask for clarifications. It's not you the naive/"wrong" person if you trust others and they let you down or betray you. You cannot control what others do with what you give them, nor you're responsible of/guilty for that. Come back to you, master your emotions.

song: pure shores | all saints

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pile 3

I think at times you're confident and well but other times you let your self doubt come in between and make you fear you're saying or doing something bad? Ruining something or the day of someone else? Like you end up falling easily and fast into this negative mental pattern of being useless and inherently "bad" (guilty? unworthy?). I think it's a matter of growing acquainted with your boundaries, setting some healthy ones and not fear being judged (it may have happened a lot in your life) for them or not being appreciated anymore or abandoned if you stopped pleasing others. We need to respect ourselves too, not just others (and pleasing them is not the same as respecting them anyway: you can disagree/say no and still be respectful). It's like you forget about your worth (it doesn't depend on how good you perform) all of a sudden in fear of being left out. You may feel unsafe in setting your boundaries especially when stressed out (or it just may stress you as said), like you may fear being perceived as rude and left alone. It may be that you got manipulated or gaslighted into feeling always wrong, guilty or bad if you didn't acted as "expected of you". I'm sorry about this: remember you are inherently good and worthy, and you have the right to stand up for yourself. You won't end up alone. Find your inner balance and peace, go slow. You're already perfect.

song: underdog | you me at six

[zhenne]

boss’ daughter — mini series masterlist !

dr.zayne + f.reader

syn. ZAYNE WITH THE DAUGHTER OF THE HOSPITAL’S CHAIRMAN

wc. 1.2k (updated after each part)

warnings. fem reader, reader is not mc, slow burn, eventual smut, mentions of smoking (reader), mentions of alcohol, use of y/n, colleagues to friends to lovers, probably ooc, slight age gap (reader is 20-23, Zayne is 28-30: pick your poison)

[ pt. 1 ] [ pt. 2 ] [ pt. 3 ]

[ intro ] — wc. 1.1k

Shit. You can’t help the frustration welling up in your chest. It was dark, rainy, and above all else, you were exhausted. As if matters couldn’t get worse, your chauffeur had been called in to assist the chairman, your father, with other business partners – effectively leaving you stranded outside the hospital’s back entrance. Calm down, Y/N, you tell yourself, taking a deep breath to quiet your tired irritation. 

You had been called to the hospital to monitor a board meeting while your father was attending a private convention hosted by a sister hospital. Usually, your duties were more prevalent by title than actual business ministrants, but there was little room for arguing when you knew you had the credentials to be deemed an appropriate substitute. 

While you appreciated the medical field and all the professionals within their respective departments, medicine was not your passion. Despite this, your family deemed it vital that you attend a prestigious university and earn highest marks towards degrees in Public Health, Biochemistry, and —eventually—Doctor of Medicine. You do well enough in your studies, ranking within the top 10 of your class, but it felt listless, a secondhand dedication. 

You clutch the handle of your umbrella tighter as a cold gust tunnels through the channel of highrise buildings. Fuck, if you knew you’d be stranded you would have just called a cab, but you knew your chances of getting one as the evening rush loomed into fullswing were next to none. Grumbling under your breath, you smooth the front of your dress’ skirt down, ignoring the chill seeping into your skin. 

Just as you were about to count your losses and spend the next hour futilely waiting for an open taxi, you hear soft, measured steps coming from behind you. 

“Are you waiting for someone, Miss L/N?” 

Dr. Zayne. You immediately recognize him – how could you not? He’s one of the hospital’s most accomplished, not to mention most attractive, doctors. You’ve had a handful of professional conversations with him, though they seldom lasted more than three turns of pleasant respects. You usually sought to avoid the doctor, despite his calm and, albeit standoffish, demeanor. You told yourself it was simply because you had no desire to exchange faux pleasantries, but a small truth lay in the fact you were bashful around him, embarrassingly so. 

The independent, educated, prodigal daughter of the Asko chairman, reduced to a blushing mess because of the mere presence of a handsome doctor? The thought had you chewing on the inside of your cheek as you quietly mutter, “Good evening, Dr. Zayne.” You want to cringe with how nervous your voice sounds, you hope he blames it on the chilling rain. “And no, I’m afraid my driver is busy attending to another assignment.” 

You finally risk a gauging glance at him under his own black umbrella, noting the hint of dark circles under his lashes. Something small pangs in your chest. Pushing it aside, you give him a small bow, a polite smile on your face. “I should go to the main entrance, please excuse me.”

His smooth voice stops you from bolting to the door. “Are you planning to take a cab home, then?”

You blink up at him, head tilting ever so slightly, brows gently pinched together, “Well, yes, that appears to be my only option..” And you swear you see the corners of his mouth twitch, just the ghost of a shift. 

“I’ll give you a ride, don’t worry.”

You hate it, the way heat immediately creeps to your face. You shouldn’t be blushing like some high school girl in front of her crush, you’re an adult, dammit. And besides, it’s just a friendly offer, right? Just a colleague helping out a coworker. Right? So why was your face so red?

“Hm?” you try to catch your faltering expression, mustering an air of professional courtesy. “Oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“It’d be rude to leave a young woman by herself in a time of need.” You swear you feel every ounce of feminism leaving your body as he steps off the curb of the sidewalk, offering you his hand. “Besides, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out in this weather for much longer.”

With that, you wordlessly accept his hand, carefully stepping down to make sure your heels don’t trip you. He releases your hand once you’re on steady feet, and you follow behind him as he leads you to the hospital’s underground garage. The rain that was drizzling atop your umbrellas quiets as you stare at his back. Broad shoulders are visible even under his suit jacket, and it has you wondering what other secrets are hiding under the surface of the private doctor. 

Your wandering thoughts are cut off when you make it to his car. You offer a quiet murmur of thanks as he holds the passenger door open for you. You take the five seconds it takes for him to round the car to quell your rapid heartbeat, praying he doesn’t notice the tension in your hands. 

“You live near the park in District 19, right?” 

You nod, marginally surprised he remembers that small detail. “Yes, on the eastern side of the city.”

Zayne lets out a small hum of acknowledgment before adjusting the dials on the console, a soft waft of heat alleviating the cold from your skin. 

The drive is mostly silent aside from the subdued sounds of the radio. Luckily, your apartment isn’t too far of a drive, but being confined to a shared space with Zayne for 20 minutes made your nerves alight with restlessness. 

The car rolls to a stop at a red light, the fluorescents of passing buildings reflected off the wet streets, casting an incandescent smear of color on the windshield. Your hands absentmindedly fidget in your lap, your teeth gently chewing on your lower lip.

“Thank you again, Dr. Zayne,” you finally manage to speak. “I truly appreciate your kindness.”

The surgeon gives a small dip of his chin, his hands skimming over the steering wheel as he pulls into a parking spot in front of your building. “It was no trouble at all, I’m happy to have been of help.”

And that was that. Just a cordial, professional favor between two associates. You just couldn’t figure out why, as you stood in the vacant elevator to your apartment, your heart felt like it was going to ricochet off your ribs and out of your chest.