Help_im_dying
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“Whitaker, you need to sit down. You have a concussion.” The voice next to him tries to tell him, and it's almost familiar this time.
“Yeah I realized that, I am a fuckin' doctor. Student doctor. Whatever.” he replies, turning to squint at the man sitting next to him. “Look, can you just get Dr. Robby? He’ll tell you I'm fine, I gotta get back to work, I got… patients and shit.”
The man looks at someone behind him, some expression he can’t quite figure out. He starts to say something else, and—oh shit he’s gonna throw up fuck—he tries to lean away and not vomit all over anyone else. He doesn't quite make it.
“Shit,” yeah, he definitely ruined that guy’s shoes. Whoops. “Sorry.”
prosopagnosia
1. A form of visual agnosia characterized by difficulty with face recognition despite intact low-level visual processing.- Language:
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Bookmarked by Help_im_dying
03 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
1. “I fell?” He tries to say it confidently but it still comes out a bit like a question.
The man just sighs and shakes his head, the hand resting on his shoulder coming up to rub his thumb over the base of his neck, just above his scrubs. “Not exactly.”
“Oh. Uhm. I think I have a concussion.” He should probably tell someone that right?
“Yeah kid, you definitely do,” the man sighs, shaking his head slightly and rubbing a hand over his mouth.
“Hey where’s Dr. Robby? He should be here,” he asks, looking around.
The man next to him almost flinches at that, pulling his hand away from his shoulder. He kinda misses the warmth and weight of it for a second. Probably shouldn't ask for it back. That'd be weird. Right.
“Look, just relax, alright?” It sounds like he might be just as if not more stressed than Whitaker is right now, which is pretty unfair since he's the one with the concussion. “I’ll keep an eye on you. You just need to rest.”
“I’m still on my shift though,” he insists. “I can't just drop all my cases for a little headache,”
The hand returns to his shoulder, along with the other one grabbing his chin, turning him to look away from the door and into the man's eyes.
“Whitaker.” he says firmly. “You. Have. A. Concussion.”
Oh yeah. Right. That.
Hey, is his memory always this bad? Concussions can cause short memory loss around the time of the incident. Last time he had a concussion— when was that again? Back home, when he fell off the ladder probably. He had a headache for three days but it went away after that. Nothing some Tylenol can't fix. He didn't tell anyone then. Knew it would just cause him more trouble. He can handle it on his own, like he always does.
“Hey man, I'm fine. Okay?” he tries again, sure his voice sounds more confident this time. “I can keep working, I only have a few hours left on my shift anyway.”
“Man?” he questions, almost laughing with disbelief. “No chance. You can't even tell who I am.”
“How am I supposed to know who you are?” he asks, getting annoyed. Like come on, there's a ton of people who work here, he still hasn't memorized everyone's names yet. The name tags usually help but reading is a little fuzzy at the moment.
2. “Because you keep asking for me.” The hands are still on his shoulders, clamping down tighter.
“Why would I be asking for someone I don't know?” he frowns. Who had he asked for anyway? That doesn't sound like him, he can handle things on his own. “Would you just go find Robby, I'm sure he’ll tell you I'm fine to work.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The man puts his head in his hands, closing his eyes and shaking his head again before looking back at him. “Whitaker. I am Robby."
…Okay maybe his concussion is pretty bad.
He squints, trying to focus on the face in front of him. It is vaguely familiar, but he’s pretty sure he would know Robby’s face when he sees it. He's spent enough time thinking about it. Sure, this guy has a nice face, warm and smiling even when he's clearly frustrated with him. He's not bad looking either, with those few streaks of grey running through his beard.
3. “What does it feel like?” Robby asks him, softly. Like he’s not diagnosing this time, just wanting to know. "When you look at me like this?”
He shrugs. Hard to explain. “It’s like… it just doesn't click. Like I'm meeting you for the first time. Even like this. When we’re having a conversation and I know the person next to me is you, I know nothing’s changed, but when I look back—” he looks up at him, the automatic slight hesitation before continuing on proving his point. “You look like someone I don't know.”
Robby nods, quietly absorbing the information. “Is that why you keep not looking me in the eyes?”
Partially.
That and he's scared if he looks at him he’ll start staring again. He knows that’s Robby, remembers his stupid crush, knows he's his type, and still every time he looks up he can't help it. It’s seeing him for the first time again. The shock of him being so close, of being so caring. He’s still not sure what he did to deserve it, but for some reason this man keeps choosing to spend all his free time taking care of him. And even some of his not-so-free time, when he really should be working on more pressing matters.
He just shrugs, looking away again. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault.” There’s something in Robby’s voice he can’t quite grasp, something beyond just trying to comfort him. “If it makes it easier… you just do what you need to, okay?”
He nods, unsure what he’s really agreeing to.
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“Okay,” he says, low enough that the general din of the room will drown it out for everyone but Robby. “I get it now.”
Robby pulls his eyes away from the board to frown at him. “Get what?”
“Your little crush on the med student.”
Or: Jack just wants Robby to have nice things. The cute new med student can be a nice thing, right?
Bookmarked by Help_im_dying
02 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
1. Robby and vulnerability don’t mix well. Jack knows this better than anyone, has frequently been on the receiving end of Robby’s ire when he’s been laid bare uninvited. So there’s a part of Jack[...]that’s worried at the way Robby might react in the wake of Whitaker seeing a part of him that even Robby’s closest rarely get a glimpse of.
Jack braces himself for anger, the instinctive lashing out of an animal cornered, and prepares himself to step in and mitigate it as needed.
Instead, Robby seems to go out of his way to double down on his better nature. Suddenly this Whitaker kid is everywhere; Jack can’t seem to go a single day without hearing about him in some form or another.
[...]“You’re pretty impressed with this kid, huh?” Jack prods one afternoon during shift change. He’s leaning against the counter, watching Robby finish up his charting on the other side.
Robby is quiet just long enough to be suspicious.
“He’s got potential,” is what he eventually settles on, repeating what he’d said a few nights earlier. “I think he could have a real future in emergency medicine.”
“Uh huh,” Jack says.
2. “That’s good,” Jack says, even though he doesn’t believe a word of it. No one comes out of a mass casualty event unscathed, let alone an MS4 on their first shift. But he’s fine with letting Whitaker skate on it, at least for the moment. Selfishly, it’s not him Jack is worried about anymore. Lowering his voice to create some illusion of privacy, Jack continues, “I heard you and Robby had a conversation that night. In Pedes?”
Whitaker takes a moment to respond to that, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
Good.
“I guess,” is what he eventually settles on. “I ran into him when I was getting some blankets for a patient.”
Not an outright lie, but not the full truth, either. Jack appreciates his discretion, and pushes harder.
“Robby told me about what happened.”
The change in Whitaker is subtle. Jack only catches it because he’s looking for it. That aw shucks farm boy look stays in place, but there’s suddenly a sharp edge to the kid’s eyes that’s surprising in its intensity.
“Oh,” Whitaker says. He considers Jack for a moment, then offers a thin smile. “Good. Then you should probably ask him your questions.”
“I’m asking you.”
But Whitaker doesn’t budge. “I should go update this patient’s chart. Have a good night, Dr. Abbot.”
He slips away before Jack can say anything else, head ducked down to avoid making eye contact. And Jack…
Jack is impressed. It hadn’t been a test, exactly, but it also wasn’t not one. He honestly hadn’t expected Whitaker to have the nerve.
So maybe Robby is right. Maybe there is something there.
3. Whitaker’s not the smartest person in the room, nor the quickest. He doesn’t have Santos’ iron nerve or King’s calm efficiency or Javadi’s young brilliance. But he’s a quick study, and clever in his own way. Observant, always watching, paying attention to small details that others might miss. He takes direction with a humility that Jack deeply wishes every student that walked through their doors would emulate, and never has to be corrected on the same thing twice.
But most prominently, the thing that makes Jack really take a second look — he’s steady. A little nervous, sure, in the way of someone still finding their footing in life. But beneath that, Jack sees someone earnest and solid. Someone who listens and thinks before he reacts, and who doesn’t hesitate to set a gentle hand on the shoulder of a grieving relative or a shaken colleague
4. Robby’s smiles is assured and proud, deepening the creases of his crow’s feet while at the same time relaxing his features in a way that Jack so rarely gets to see at work. “Good.”
Whitaker’s answering look is bright, shy, and—
Well. Okay then.
Robby leaves the clean up for the kids, stripping off his gloves and hovering a hand under the sanitizer dispenser on his way out of the room. Jack falls into step beside him by rote, and bumps their shoulders playfully as they round the nurse’s station.
“Okay,” he says, low enough that the general din of the room will drown it out for everyone but Robby. “I get it now.”
Robby pulls his eyes away from the board to frown at him. “Get what?”
“Your little crush on the med student.”
It’s a shame Robby’s not taking a drink at the time. Jack’s pretty sure he’d have spat it out a good two feet from the force of his double-take.
“What—” Robby starts, stutters. The tips of his ears start to darken tellingly. “I don’t have a crush!”
Jack lets the skepticism show clear on his face.
“I’m not talking about this with you here,” Robby says, and just about power walks away.
“Coward,” Jack calls teasingly after him, laughing when Robby throws him a middle finger in response.
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The crime lord and the bunny by silverynight
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
21 Feb 2026
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"Since you're basically a baby bunny," the tall man says, using the term they have for the new workers. "You probably have no idea who he is, right?"
"I have no idea," he says sincerely, still looking as the blond rolls up his shirt sleeves to reveal snake tattoos on his arms.
He looks dangerous.
"He's Dynamight!" a bunny girl says, joining them. "He basically owns Japan. They say the others are afraid of him, and even if they don't work for him directly, if he says they need to do something they agree without a second thought; it never ends well for the person who says no to him."
Bookmarked by Help_im_dying
22 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
1. "Do the others know?" He narrows his eyes, intrigued about the number of bunnies who try to get his attention, he ends up snapping at most of them and then asks an unfortunate one for a drink. "Why does it seem like they're fighting over him?"
"Because they say he doesn't have a partner," another explains, pouting. "And a lot of bunnies here want to catch his eye to quit and live a life of luxury and power, besides, he's really hot."
Izuku can't deny that, but he doesn't think that kind of life is worth the risk, also, he doesn't seem like a nice man; he's very irritated at the moment, and judging by how he glares at the bunnies, it seems he's not that interested in any of them.
"Doesn't look like he's enjoying himself," Izuku observes.
"He probably doesn't like this place very much," the tall bunny says, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "We don't see him very often, and when he does come is to make business with the other clients."
Izuku nods, making a mental note to stay away from him.
After that, he spends the rest of the day bringing drinks to a couple of his clients and sitting next to one for a few hours after they requested it.
Then as he gets up, noticing his arm bracelet going from red to green (meaning that he's available to keep other people company) he leaves the couch where he was sitting and hears his bracelet make a sound.
He assumes it's the same client, so he stops, but before he can turn around to go back, a hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving, pulling him closer to a broad chest. This man is taller than the one Izuku was with a few minutes ago.
"That was me," a deep voice says, close to his ear; Izuku is already smiling before turning around, but he can't help gasping when he notices that the man next to him is Dynamight himself.
The blond shows him his smart phone in order to prove that he just booked Izuku for the whole night. At least he already knows his services don't go beyond having a nice chat, because the app is quite clear about the types of bunnies there are and the services they provide.
"Well, let me know what you'd like to drink and I-"
"No, baby," Dynamight smirks, hand sliding down his back until he grabs Izuku by the waist. "Someone else will bring us the drinks; I just want you to be with me."
Cheeks still red, Izuku nods, even though it clearly will cost him more to have a bunny for the drinks and another one to keep him company. Nervous, but aware that the bunny girl, one of his coworkers and a good friend, will give him a drink with just a splash of alcohol, Izuku tries to relax.
2. "It's a long story, but I chose it myself."
"I don't want to call you useless."
"It's... it doesn't mean the same anymore," Izuku mumbles shyly. "At least not to me."
After a few seconds, Dynamight nods, accepting his response.
"I still want to know your real name though."
"You know I can't tell you that," Izuku says, trying to be gentle. He doesn't want him to get mad at him.
Dynamight doesn't seem upset, on the contrary, he looks almost amused. With a smirk, he leans so close to Izuku that the young man thinks, for a moment, that he'll kiss him.
"I'm Katsuki," he whispers, chuckling at Izuku's shocked reaction.
"Y-you shouldn't have told me that."
"Why not? I trust you, you strike me as someone who can keep a secret."
Not knowing if that's a warning or not, Izuku nods, hoping the name slips from his mind the next day.
The blond narrows his eyes at his reaction, before leaving the glass of whiskey on the table in front of the couch they're sitting on. Dynamight cradles Izuku's face with both hands.
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Deku. I'd never hurt you."
Izuku is not entirely sure if he's telling the truth or not (he doesn't know him enough to tell the difference), but at least he sounds sincere.
In order to help him relax, Katsuki starts talking about his friends (he doesn't give any details about what they do, but he does mention they work for him) and all the things they do to tease him, even though he's supposed to be a very feared and respected man.
The green haired bunny has no idea if the blond is making all up or not, but he does enjoy the stories and even chuckles a couple of times.
Before he knows it, Katsuki has moved both his legs and put them over his own lap, so Izuku can be more comfortable.
Izuku cheeks turn slightly pink when he notices, but he doesn't make any attempts to move them away, because he's allowed other clients to touch him before.
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You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley)
Fandoms: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
01 Nov 2020
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"Wei-gongzi? Wake up! Why won't he wake up? Wei Wuxian!"
Wei Wuxian's consciousness comes back as a slow rushing of sound. Voices, movement, something that sounds like fire crackling. It flickers behind his eyelids, so chances are, it's probably a fire. Then a shadow falls over him and he groans as he attempts to peel his eyes open. It's not an easy business—they somehow feel both dry and sticky at the same time, and when he manages to open them the tiniest bit, even the dim light around him feels like blinding sunlight. There's pressure in his chest, but at least his breathing is fine.
He has no idea what happened.
OR, Wei Wuxian finds himself in a pickle--and it involves Lan Wangji.
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Bookmarked by Help_im_dying
14 Jul 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
1. he slowly combs through the snarls in his hair. Lan Zhan is quietly playing the guqin and, despite the ongoing pain that simply refuses to go away, Wei Wuxian feels at peace for the first time in a while.
Then he wonders whose peace he is feeling.
He looks over at Lan Zhan, sitting upright by his instrument, slowly plucking at the strings, creating music. While he was bathing, Lan Zhan has turned himself from Chief Cultivator into Lan Wangji. His hair is down, his outer robe discarded. So few people get to see him like this. Wei Wuxian is honored that he is among that number. He smiles to himself, and for a while, it is just them and the music between them.
2. He shuts the thought down lest it escape and travel across the bed. When he focuses on the Lan Zhan part of his mind, he feels...something. A tendril of relief and something else, something slippery that eludes him. He shuts his eyes.
3. Wei Wuxian wakes up to warmth. He blinks open his eyes—it is still dark out. What has woken him? And how is he so comfortable?
Full awareness comes the next moment and he freezes. Lan Zhan is lying on his back, with Wei Wuxian sprawled half on top of him, his ear pressed to the hard muscle of Lan Zhan's chest, one arm flung carelessly around Lan Zhan's middle, Lan Zhan's hand on his arm. Lan Zhan's other arm is wrapped around his shoulders. Wei Wuxian's hips, luckily, are not touching any part of Lan Zhan, but only just.
He has to move. He has to shift over before Lan Zhan wakes up and finds him there, but the moment he begins to move, the arm around him tightens and Lan Zhan makes a noise of protest. Wei Wuxian freezes once more.
4. Reality begins to intrude as their pulses slow. He doesn't know which one of them tenses first, it is nearly impossible to tell where the fear has slithered in, but it moves between them; not yet a regret, but taking the shape of one.
His skin grows cool; his blood, cold. Lan Zhan moves off of him slowly, not meeting his eye. He supposes that, if not for their connection, they could have pretended not to freak out afterwards for a little bit longer. But it's impossible to hide from someone inside your mind.
Wei Wuxian swallows and catches hold of Lan Zhan's wrist before he can move too far away. "Lan Zhan." He doesn't know what he'd been planning on saying[...]
Lan Zhan is reluctant, wary as he meets his eyes in the dark.
"Lan Zhan, I—" Lan Zhan regrets it. Wei Ying can feel it as Lan Zhan comes down, the deep ache of a regret that fills his veins with ice, sours in his stomach. "I don't—" He has to make himself clear, has to explain in a way that won't throw decades of friendship out the window, that won't take his favorite person away from him for good. "It was the curse," he says, swallowing. "Please don't regret this, I…" Can't lose you. He can't make himself say it.
Lan Zhan gently lies down next to him and just as gently extricates his wrist from Wei Wuxian's hold. There is a rush of sadness, but the intensity of the Lan Zhan in his mind is already receding, quieting just the smallest bit. It is no longer a colorful cacophony in his mind but a trickle of emotion that Lan Zhan tries and fails to suppress. Their feet are the only place they are touching. "I do not regret Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says quietly. That wave of fondness rushes towards Wei Wuxian, warming him.
"Okay. All right." Wei Wuxian swallows. "Middle of the night madness, right?"
A vicious tamping down of emotion, but which, Wei Wuxian can't really tell. "Right," Lan Zhan says. "We should sleep."
5. "No, really, Lan Zhan, I understand, it's all right, you don't have to—"
"—make you uncomfortable, I apologize," Lan Zhan says, and then, his voice rising in volume a notch, "I do not expect you to reciprocate."
Wei Wuxian's brain grinds to a halt. He stops talking.
"I do not expect you to feel beholden to me," Lan Zhan continues quietly. "I would...very much like it if we could remain friends."
Wait. What?
"Lan Zhan—"
"Please, Wei Ying." He swallows audibly. "A friendship would be enough."
"Wait, I…" He looks up at Lan Zhan's face, finally, and finds two spots of color sitting high on his cheeks. He's sharply reminded of the night Lan Zhan had gotten drunk and tried to steal chickens. For Wei Wuxian. He'd been pink in the cheeks then, too. "Lan Zhan," he croaks, something blooming in his chest that might be the beginnings of hope. It tingles his fingers and curls his toes. "What are you saying?"
6. He'll be allowed to do this again, there's no sense in rushing. The previous two nights, he'd been racing the clock, wanting everything from Lan Zhan before it was snatched away. Now, the future unspools before them, unhurried and dreamy, a future of endless nights together.
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They started small, they were still afraid of the boy noticing after all.
Jack left a second coffee on the counter one morning, right next to Dennis’s chart.“They mixed my order.” he said when Dennis frowned.
“Just take it before it gets cold kid.”
Bookmarked by Help_im_dying
20 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
The bets were lighthearted, but they all had an unspoken agreement.
Dennis was the priority. They teased, laughed, and nudged each other, but everything they did, every prank, every bet was wrapped in care. They were just mocking his inability to..well.. notice 2 old men’s interest and care for him, while making money on their betting pool.
Later that day, Dennis found himself staring at the leftover coffee Robby had ‘forgotten he ordered’ again.
His frown deepened, a mix of suspicion and embarrassment.
“Why is there always… coffee?” he muttered to himself, sliding it onto his desk. He caught Robby watching him from across the room and flushed.
Robby watched him with a faint, teasing smile.
Dennis shook his head, muttering something. Probably how he ‘Doesn’t understand it.’
No one corrected him. No one needed to. They all knew, and secretly loved watching him figure it out… slowly.