cortlandkaard · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
some uh self-indulgent doodles
cos as you all know im trying to make my style more flexible!! i think its working
in order: M Cortland, Tin Foil, Rush Cortland, some rando, Lodge Cortland, and River Cortland
all of the capitalized names are related (by blood or romance) but tin liked his chosen last name so much he didnt want to change it again
17 notes · View notes
vivwritescrappythings · 8 months ago
Text
Yours
joel miller x fem!reader
Finally finishing the request for a Joel Miller fic inspired by "Jealous" by Nick Jonas for @prettyinpunk85 (I hope you like it)
You get new neighbors in Jackson, Joel doesn't like how much attention they pay to you so he decides to teach them a lesson.
tw: afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, age gap (twenty years), exhibitionism, some dubcon, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex (do as i say not as fanfic writes), oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, jealous joel, written from joel's perspective (may be bad)
Word Count: 4.8k
MDNI
masterlist
Joel didn’t know what to do with himself when you’d happily announced that you had new neighbors. The house next to his in Jackson had been empty for some time, it was yours until you decided to move in with him and Ellie. He was hoping the neighbors would be a family, or maybe some older survivors. Really, someone you could be friends with, he knew you were way too extroverted for just his company.
But instead the new neighbors were his nightmare: two guys–in their twenties.
You were young for Joel, he knew that. Part of him had always attributed your interest in him to the fact that choices were limited in the zombie apocalypse. He hadn’t even known how to flirt with you, awkwardly leaving tattered books he had found during supply runs on your front porch, sometimes accompanied by wilted wildflowers. One day he had left you a bookshelf he’d built, endless hours spent in his studio sanding the wood to perfection and carving flowers into the border. You had to ask him to come over to help you move it inside.
That was over two years ago, and he still had no clue why a pretty thing like you had decided to even talk to him, let alone be with him. To be honest, no one else in Jackson understood it, either. You worked at the small bakery on Main Street and wanted to convert one of the buildings into a library. You liked to sew pretty dresses and planted superficial flowers outside of the house in the summertime. 
Joel was nothing of the sort, keeping everyone at an arm’s length aside from Tommy and Ellie. He stayed on the fringes of community events, always present but never participating. Ellie was loud enough for the both of them, boisterous and friendly and everything he wasn’t. He was happy to watch her thrive.
So the first time she asked him to go to the bakery so she could hang out with a friend, he reluctantly agreed. He’d introduced himself to you like a complete idiot, blushing when you laughed and informed him that you were neighbors. Joel had become enamored with you from the second he saw your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the edges and your cheeks lifted. He could’ve died a happy man right there at the counter. 
From then on, he claimed that bakery visits were firmly his responsibility.
He sucked up every piece of information you gave him, starting with your favorite items at the shop and spiraling until he knew that you loved wildflowers and what books you liked to read. Joel was greedy, he wanted to know everything about you–he wanted to be the only person that knew everything about you. 
That was when he started leaving you gifts at your door, and the rest was history.
So when you swatted his hand away from the cooling cookies on the rack in the kitchen, his brown eyes regarded you with betrayal. “They’re for the neighbors,” you informed him, untying your cute, frilly little apron and hanging it on the hook he’d installed.
The neighbors.
They had already become adversaries in a war that only he knew existed. Joel sighed, heavy boots plodding against the floor until he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull your back to his chest. “Now why are you giving the neighbors my cookies?” he asked, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. 
“To be friendly, Joel,” you said with a giggle, turning in his arms to look up at him. His big, scarred hands were on the small of your back, fingertips rubbing gentle circles through your shirt. He swore his heart stopped every time you looked up at him, your thick eyelashes fluttering as your lips quirked into a smile. “Something that you are unfamiliar with.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “M’friendly,” he protested, pecking you on the lips as though it would prove his point.
“Oh yeah?” you asked, leaning up and kissing the corner of his lip once before squirming out of his grip. You retrieved one of the few plates that didn’t have a chip missing from the cabinet, transferring the cookies onto it with care. “It took you how many months to talk to me?”
Even if the question wasn’t rhetorical, he decided to treat it that way. He moved closer to you, a possessive hand curling around your waist and lips meeting your shoulder. “To prove you wrong, I’ll come with you to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.” He wanted to keep an eye on them, let them know that his pretty girlfriend was in fact taken before they got any wrong ideas.
Your brow furrowed, immediately suspicious of his motives. “Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?” 
He smiled, trying to be sweet and smooth like he used to be when he was younger. Before everything. “Maybe I just want to be nice, wildflower. Ever thought of that?” 
Your eyes dragging across him let him know that you weren’t convinced. The two of you stared at one another, waiting to see who would cave first. Apparently it was you. “Fine, but I know you’re up to something.”
Joel’s hand was firmly planted on the small of your back as you stepped out into the afternoon sun, the whole world looking like it was dipped in gold. You went up the rickety porch stairs first, Joel only a half step behind you as you adjusted the plate to one hand to knock on the door.
He was staring at the way the blue paint was starting to peel, thinking about how no self-respecting man would let his house fall into disrepair like that. No mind that they had only moved in a few days ago, they should’ve repainted the front door by now–it was people’s first impression whenever they walked up to the house.
It took a moment after you knocked for the door to swing open, two blonde idiots who looked like they were straight out of a magazine advertisement standing on the other side. Their blue eyes lit up when they saw you, easy smiles gracing their features like they hadn’t been battle-hardened by the outbreak.
Not like Joel was.
Joel’s fingers dug into your back, his expression hardening. They tempered their excitement when they saw him, standing so close to you that he could practically be your shadow.
He loathed the way they were looking at you, his jaw set tight and flexing beneath his beard. You were talking, he could hear the notes of your voice like you were speaking underwater–he was too focused on the dopey smiles in front of you to even pay attention to what was being said. You made them laugh, they said something back to you. Probably their names if he had to guess.
Before he even realized, you were tugging him back down their porch steps and into your shared home, flitting away to make Joel his own personal batch of cookies like nothing had happened.
Three times that week he had come home to find them loitering outside the front door or talking to you along the edge of the freshly painted picket fence. They were always showering you with compliments, be it about your cookies or the flowers you’d carefully planted in the boxes Joel had built you. They scattered whenever Joel was there, making excuses about chores that needed to get done or errands that needed to be finished.
But he knew better.
Of course, you talked about the nice boys next door over dinner, it took everything in him to not immediately scowl at the mention of them. The fact that you referred to them as boys was laughable, they were closer to your age than he was—maybe a few years difference between you at most. Nothing compared to his whopping couple decades. He tried to brush the thought away as quickly as it sprouted.
He humored you, knowing that you just thought that everyone was kind and friendly and honest because you were. That was what he loved about you.
The last straw was when he was out in the back installing a porch swing for you to read on. They were doing something, near enough to the tall fence splitting the yards that he could hear them talking as clear as day. 
Joel almost went over there to give them a piece of his mind, listening to them speculate about why you were with him. They were laughing as they bet that he couldn’t even get it up anymore, that there was no way he was taking care of you like a man was supposed to. 
He was old, angry. And you… you weren’t.
He was seething by the time they finished up and went into their house, his hands nearly shaking when he finished screwing the brackets into the roof. Back in the QZ, Joel would have probably fought them—killed them, if he was honest with himself. 
It would be easy to bust down their door and give them his retribution, he wasn’t always the domesticated beast he’d become for you. But nevertheless, he sucked it up. You would be devastated if he fought with them, as much as he would love to feel their skin split under his knuckles. He couldn’t do that to you.
It was a few evenings later that he got what he wanted: an opportunity for his revenge. You were on the porch swing with him, the two of you nestled together in the orange rays of the sunset. You both were reading, Joel’s arm tucked around your shoulders so your chin was pressed against his bicep. 
You always were fully immersed in your books, an earthquake could happen and you would have no clue. So you didn’t hear your neighbors’ back door slide open, but Joel did. 
He barely moved, didn’t bother to say a word as his broad hand moved from cupping your shoulder to gently graze around the side of your breast. It was a lazy day for the two of you, you were only dressed in one of Joel’s flannels and pajama shorts that were so loose around your thighs you may as well have never put them on.
You immediately shivered at his touch, your thumb slipping between the pages of your book to hold your place. “Joel, the neighbors,” you whispered, twisting so you could look up at him. 
“Went on a hunting trip, they’re not home,” he said loud enough for them to hear. Hopefully they would have the good sense to shut up. His thumb circled your already stiff nipple, a smirk stretching across his features conspiratorially. “C’mon, Ellie’s at a friend’s house and no one’s here—let’s test out the porch swing.”
Your lips were already parted, the heat building on the back of your neck so intense Joel could feel it through his shirt. “Joel,” you whined in the way that made him get hard as a fucking rock in his pants.
“Yeah?” he asked, suddenly playing dumb as though he hadn’t started it. 
You pouted, your brow furrowing and bottom lip jutting out as you arched your tit further into his hand. He acquiesced immediately—he always did—pinching your nipple through the well worn fabric of his flannel. His reward was a soft moan from you, your body both melting into and arching away from his. 
“What’s my girl want?” Joel asked, his voice a deep rasp as he stamped his lips against your temple. The small of your back was pressed against his oblique, your cheek squishing into his collarbone as he watched your thick thighs press together. He kept toying with your nipple, his free hand setting his book aside and pulling yours from your clutch. “C’mon, you gotta tell me. Can’t read minds.”
You huffed, you always hated it when he made you ask for what you wanted. “Joel please,” you whined, pressing your heels against the cushion that covered the wooden seat and sitting up so you were flush against him.
“Please what?” His free hand skimmed down your side, snapping the stretched-out, elastic waistband of your shorts. It made you squeak, a quiet giggle coming from your throat.
“God, please just touch me,” you whined, your impatience making him chuckle darkly. His hand moved from your waist, tracing over the pudge of your stomach and dipping into your loose sleep shorts. There was nothing beneath, just your soft skin and the curly patch of hair on your pubic bone.
“No panties? You slut,” Joel teased, his fingers traveling even further down until they sunk into your cunt. You were wet and warm, almost scalding his skin as he parted the lips of your sex to find your swollen clit. “And already so soaked.” 
You moaned, a hand winding around his bicep as your back arched. He kissed the crown of your head as he rubbed your clit between the pads of his pointer and middle fingers, slow and soft. He knew you’d complain, beg him for more. He just wondered how long it would take until you did. 
Not long at all, it was maybe half a minute when you rocked your hips impatiently against his hand. “Joel, you’re being mean.” You were loud, louder than you would ever mean to be with the threat of someone possibly catching you.
Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Mean? Not true,” he countered, increasing the pressure he was putting on your clit. If he strained his ears he could hear how wet you were, a quiet squelching noise barely muffled by the fabric of your shorts. You pressed your hips further against his hand, your teeth digging into your lower lip to keep your noises to a minimum.
He dipped to gather more slick at your fluttering entrance, teasing it for a moment before returning to your clit. You were being so good for him, so sweet. His other hand unbuttoned the flannel you were wearing down to your navel, freeing your breast for him to knead and squeeze in his broad palm. 
Your eyebrows bunched together, your lips parting as your gaze was stuck on where his hand disappeared beneath your shorts. “Feeling good?” he asked, relishing in your moan of agreement as you nodded. 
Joel smirked, pulling his hand from your shorts. “No–oh my god,” you protested, nearly up in arms. If looks could kill, he would be struck dead. He stood, his dark eyes briefly looking over the fence to see the neighbors still on their porch, their jaws dropped to their chests.
His smile widened as he sank to his knees in front of you, your protests dropping off as you lifted your hips so he could take your shorts off. A wicked grin stretched on your features, you sucked your bottom lip back into your mouth as your gaze roved over him. You settled so your ass was almost hanging off the porch swing, spreading your legs without Joel having to direct you to do so. 
“You want me to eat this pretty pussy of yours?” he asked, rough hands smoothing along the insides of your soft thighs. Joel wasn’t a man with a weakness for pretty things, but there was something about your slick and puffy pussy dripping for him that made his heart nearly stop.
“Fuck, please, Joel.” He loved the way you begged. 
Joel pressed his mouth to the soaking mess of your sex, moaning at your salty-sweet taste on his tongue. He could never get enough of you, settling one leg over the curve of his shoulder as his other hand pressed your knee to your chest. The sun was shining in his eyes, but he didn’t let it stop him from looking up at your face. He lapped at your cunt with firm, long strokes, practically drinking from you.
In a moment of generosity, he pressed the middle and ring finger of his free hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, pulling a loud and broken moan from your chest. He was smiling into your pussy, suckling at your swollen clit as he pumped his fingers into you.
Your fingers tangled into his dark brown curls, grabbing at them in a way that sent shivers down his spine as you pulled his head flush against you. Joel loved the way your soft thighs pressed against his ears, almost muffling the sweet sounds falling from your pretty lips. Almost. Being outside had made you reckless, the promise of Ellie and the neighbors being gone letting you reach a volume that he hadn’t heard in a long time.
Of course, Joel knew better. He ate you like a starving man, proud that every sound you made was heard by the two men–boys–sitting on the other side of the fence.
His knees on the concrete ached, his back protesting being curled so he could keep his mouth pressed tightly against your weepy cunt. The pain was worth it, every second of it was worth it just to make you fall apart. Just to remind the world that you were his and his alone. 
Your head had fallen back to rest on the bench, your eyes scrunched closed as you gasped. Joel’s fingers crooked inside of you, finding the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. It made you writhe, the hand keeping you spread apart for him pinning you down and forcing you to be somewhat still as he pressed at that spot mercilessly. His eyes remained on you as much as they could, taking in every heaving breath and the way your breasts moved under the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt.
It was only moments more until you were coming apart at the seams. You’d squirmed out of his hold, your heels digging into his broad back. Your legs clamped around his head, your back nearly broken with an arch. The sound you made was almost wounded, a desperate cry of his name as your legs spasmed and you practically gushed over his hand.
He worked you through the aftershocks, your pussy fluttering deliciously around his thick fingers. Your hold on his hair loosened just enough for him to pull away, mouthing at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You came back to yourself, breathing again as your legs relaxed to rest on his shoulder. He peppered sticky, wet kisses on your inner thighs.
“Joel, oh my god,” you sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face as you panted. A laugh left your chest, making him grin like an idiot as he rested his facial-hair covered cheek against your leg and caught his breath.
“Clean these up for me,” he requested, his soaked fingertips now pressing at her bottom lip. They glistened in the afternoon sunlight, a sticky film coating the entirety of them. You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, your bratty streak coming through before you submitted and opened your mouth to let his fingers slide against your warm tongue.
You sealed your lips around them, sucking your slick off earnestly and rolling your tongue along his digits. “What a good girl, sucking on my fingers like that,” Joel said as he stood, making eye contact with the neighbors before looking back down at you. His knees protested the movement, cracking a bit as he straightened. 
He had to check to see if they were paying attention, the blush across their faces visible from across the yard.
A hum against his fingers brought Joel’s attention back to you. You watched him through your thick eyelashes, the sight alone making him feel like he was going to blow his load.
Your hands found the tie at his sweatpants, pulling the bow apart impatiently. You let go of his fingers with a pop, your soft lips shiny with a mix of your spit and slick as you started to pull his sweatpants down. “Wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you said, almost sounding drunk on it as your fingers hooked in the elastic waist.
He couldn’t help his smirk, his hand caressing your cheek and jaw as he looked down at you. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into him as he let the silence hang for a moment. You were being so perfect for him and you didn’t even know the extent of it.
“Nuh uh, not tonight,” Joel said, stooping down to press a wet kiss to your forehead. Your whine of protest made his chest puff up with pride. 
He shook his head with a smirk, kneeling down on the cracked concrete again. His poor knees–he would certainly regret the entire escapade tomorrow. Really, he wanted to get you up on his lap and have you ride him until you were crying–but he didn’t want to risk you seeing the neighbors. Or the neighbors seeing any more of you than the back of your head.
Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you so your entire ass was hanging off the porch swing. The only thing keeping you from falling was his hands and your legs hooking around him for some stability. You were already grabbing at him, fingers twisting in the shirt he still wore. “Want me to fuck you?” 
“Uh huh,” you panted desperately, nodding with a frantic look in your eye. “Please, Joel.”
He smiled, pushing his sweatpants down around his thighs and taking his cock into his hand. You moaned as he rubbed the tip of it along the seam of your pussy and pressed it against your clit. 
“Fuck,” you whimpered as the blunt head of his cock caught, Joel filled you with a quick slot of his hips.
Your head fell back, a whine pulling from your throat as you bore down around him. He almost lost his mind right there, no matter how many times you’d had sex you still were so tight. You both stilled, panting and gripping at one another as you become acquainted, blinking in the afternoon sun.
“God, I love this pussy,” Joel grunted, trying to talk you through it as he started thrusting gently. No matter how quiet he was in his normal life, as soon as he felt you squeezing around his cock he started running his mouth. The hinges of the swing creaked a little as it moved back and forth, his hands anchored to your hips. 
He took you slow, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. Bitten down grunts and grit teeth were met with your sweet mewls and dulcet moans as he split you apart. One of your hands reached for his, your fingers lacing with his before he pressed your knuckles onto the cushion of the swing. “Wanna hold my hand, sweet girl?” he asked, voice borderline condescending as he did.
You nodded pathetically, gasping every time he rutted inside of you. He’d reduced you to mush, partially formed words dying against your lips as he hit home against the spot inside you that always made your breath lock up in your chest.
“Who do you belong to?” Joel asked, squeezing your hand to get you to come back down to earth. You looked a mess, completely fucked out as you blinked slowly and took a deep breath. It took you a minute to really focus on him, your hand weakly squeezing back. 
“You, Joel,” you answered, teeth scraping along your plump lower lip as you fisted the open flannel still draped around your shoulders.
He chuckled darkly, leaning down toward you as he kept up his almost machine-like pace. “Louder, be a good girl,” he murmured, pressing a wet and sloppy kiss to your throat. You clenched around him at the praise, it had always been one of your weaknesses.
“Joel, m’yours,” you gasped, words broken up by the reverb of his thrusts and the slap of his heavy balls against your ass.
He never had reason to doubt that he was who you wanted to be with, but the reassurance helped ground him. The whole week he’d been wondering if he was holding you back, if you actually wanted something else from life. But with the way you were taking his cock? The way you moaned for him? Hell, the way you looked at him was more than enough. There was no mistaking it for anything other than love. 
“That’s right, you’re mine.” You shifted under him, the angle of your spine letting him hit deeper inside of you. His hand left your waist to grab the soft cheek of your ass, keeping you steady and supported. “No one else’s, right?”
“Yeah, Joel. Just yours.” The assurance was breathy, your voice faltering in your throat as you started to go rigid. You were looking up at Joel so sweetly, tears starting to glisten in your eyes as you tugged against the fabric of his flannel that you wore on the porch swing that he built you at his house. He had a mean possessive streak, but look at you–so happy to be his.
He lost himself. He worked on pure instinct, pistoning into you as he became blind with the desire to pin you down and fill you. You whined as he slammed into you, his sweaty forehead pressing against your sternum and his hands gripping you tight. He could feel you draw up like a spring beneath him.
You lurched on a wail, your cunt clenching around him so tightly that it almost hurt as you came. Joel moaned in sympathy with you, greedily taking in every expression you made beneath him. You whimpered and mumbled unintelligibly, your grip tightening around the hand you still clasped as your limbs locked up. 
Joel lost all semblance of coordination and control, hitching up one of your thighs and driving himself deep into you. Instinct dictated his every move, overriding common sense as he grunted above you like an animal.
He thought his jaw would crack in half from how hard he was clenching it, mumbling nonsense to you through his teeth. There was a lurch deep in his stomach, his abdomen starting to flex as he fell out of his rhythm. It was only a moment more before it felt like his skin was too tight and everything was too hot and he was spilling inside you while groaning your name. 
You were so full that you were leaking around him, come dripping down his balls and splattering on the concrete. Both of you were shaking, breathing each other’s air as your foreheads pressed together. Love filled your expression, making him smile tiredly.
You felt for him, your fingertips caressing his jaw as you brought him in for a gentle kiss. You always brought him back, reminded him to be soft with you when he nearly forgot. His tongue licked into your mouth for a moment before he ducked his head and lazily sucked at your breasts, his hips grinding against yours. You both hissed.
“Want me to run a bath for us?” he asked, his voice thick as he mouthed at the skin of your sternum. 
“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding weakly as your fingers skated up from his beard to curl into his hair. It was sweaty at the nape, curling more violently than before. 
He hummed good-naturedly, pulling out of you with a groan before tucking himself back away in his sweatpants. Joel looked down at the mess he made of you, his come already running down the crack of your ass and dripping onto the concrete. He moaned at the sight, even the shitty porn magazines he’d found on supply runs didn’t compare to this.
He helped you back into your shorts, a fist closing your flannel around your chest as you both shakily stood. You were like a newborn fawn, knees knocking together as you leaned into Joel’s chest. He chuckled breathily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and holding you close. A soft I love you was whispered against your temple, a gentle reply following from you.
Joel glanced over the fence as he walked you to the sliding glass door, a proud glint in his eye as he met the shocked stares of your new neighbors. He winked at them, squeezing you tighter before bringing you inside with him.
795 notes · View notes
unbearableblog · 6 months ago
Text
To my birthday. I wish myself to one day be loved like that. Based on a dream
Dream Dish
Tumblr media
“Can you explain it a little more?”
“So, the outside was covered in dried cranberries and blueberries, but the inside was like… grass? I don’t know…”
“Grass? Sounds delicious,” he laughs.
“Shut up.”
Carmen listened intentively and moved away his curls as you described the dream you had, a certain dish that you tried there.
“Ugh, it was so weird? Like, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered this grass before. It was like hay, but green? And the outside of the dessert was like a fortune cookie, but brown?” you sigh in frustration, unable to describe its complexity in full, until an idea appears in your head. You quickly stand up and blurt out - “I’ll show you!”
You run to get the pencils and paper, leaving Carmen to sit amused on the bed. He knew waking up with you would be an adventure, but not in this way. Either way, he liked it.
“Here!” You put the paper down and frantically drew shapes and coloured them in, making the dream a reality.
“So! This is what it looks like.”
You paused from your driven spurt and realized that Carmen hasn’t said a word. He was silently looking at the paper.
“Sorry, this must be really boring to hear,” you suddenly shut down. After all, it was you who tried that magical dish, not him.
He looks up at you, then down at the paper. “No- …no, it’s a fascinating dish. I’m just tryna understand how it works,“ he still sounds kinda sleepy.
"It's okay, Carm, you don't have to."
Several days have passed and you moved on. You didn’t want to abandon your friends after getting a boyfriend, so today was one of the nights when you met up for a chat. When you came back, the apartment felt warmer and had a fruity scent - Carmen must have tried something for the restaurant.
You take your heels off and tiptoe to the kitchen, curious. He hasn’t heard you come in, so he is still hunched over the counter. Your eyes shifted to the table - and you wondered whether you were awake.
“Carmen? What’s that?”
“Shit!” he jumps, at which you chuckle, “when’d you come back?”
“Right now,” you say hesitantly, “why, was I not supposed to?”
“Of course not,” he comes to hug you. His arms are on your waist, and you know he can still smell your perfume. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he releases you and turns to the table.
You recognize the dish.
“Is that-”
“Yes, baby, that’s your dish,” he smiles and looks kinda proud.
“Can I try it?” you ask, and he reaches down to take the plate and a spoon. You break the cookie in half, inspect the filling, and eat it. As you chew, the insanity of the situation grows on you. This is a made-up dish. From your dream. You’re eating it.
“I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the exact grass you were talkin’ about, I had to switch it out with-”
“It’s okay, Carm, I’m sure that if it existed you would have found it,” you put the plate down and your hands slide to his arms, “It’s amazing. It didn’t taste nearly as good in the dream,”
“It is pretty good, isn’t it?” he takes the other half of the cookie and eats it too.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
”I made it.”
“I came up with it.”
He doesn’t respond, just smiles at you. You look him in the eyes and think how happy you are.
“I love you,” he whispers and gives you a kiss.
765 notes · View notes
alessiasfreckles · 9 months ago
Text
chocolate chip cookies (alessia russo x depressed!reader)
Tumblr media
when you quit the team, feeling lost, no one knows what to do, including you. you spend days curled up in bed, alone, until you meet alessia, your replacement, who brings you out of your shell and helps you find yourself again.
warnings: depression is a big topic in this one! no mention of s/h or suicidal thoughts, just overall depression. if you're feeling depressed, don't hesitate to reach out.
-------------
When you tell the team that you’re quitting, the room goes silent. Then someone bursts out laughing. You’re not sure who, you’re staring at the ground, not wanting to look into the faces of your now former teammates. They think it’s a joke. It’s only when you turn around and leave without another word that they realise you’re being serious. 
And you are. You've already spoken to Jonas - he tried to convince you to stay, but you’d made up your mind. He told you that whilst he couldn’t guarantee there would always be a spot for you on the team, there’d always be a spot for you at the club. You nodded, thanking him quietly. You won’t be going back, you know that, but it seems unnecessary to make this harder for everyone else.
You don’t go back to the training ground after you tell everyone. You’ve already packed all your things in your car, wanting to make your departure quick and easy. On the drive home, your phone keeps buzzing with messages and calls from your former teammates. When you’re at a red light, you turn your phone off.
You decided to leave a while ago. You’ve lost any passion for the game, and when you realised that you were just going through the movements, you decided it would be best for the team if you left. You were dead weight, taking up a spot that could be used by someone else. Someone better. Someone who cares.
When you get home, you leave everything in the car, even your phone. You go inside and go straight to your room, getting into bed. you’re just so tired. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, feeling slightly more peaceful now that you don’t have the prospect of quitting looming ahead. 
You wake up to the sound of someone banging on your front door. Most of the day has passed, it’s getting dark outside. You lie there for a minute, waiting to see if the banging will stop, but it just gets more insistent. You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed and to the front door. When it opens, you see the faces of your teammates. Beth, Viv, Leah, Kim, Katie. The core five. They ask what’s going on, say that they’ve been trying to call you and message you all day. You walk past them to your car, get your phone out, shrug. 
“I left my phone in the car,” you say. You watch them exchange glances.
Still, you don’t want to be a bad host. Or a bad friend - if they still consider you a friend. You decide that it’s understandable if they don’t. You invite them in, and they pile onto your sofa. Leah pulls a stool in front of the sofa, telling you to sit down. You sit. Five faces stare at you, expressions ranging from confused to worried to something like anger. 
You didn’t mean to make anyone angry. 
“What’s going on?” Kim asks, her captain voice on. 
You shrug.
“Why would you quit?” Katie asks, frowning. 
I’m not good enough, I'm bringing the team down, I don’t care about playing, the team deserves better, you all deserve better, runs through your head.
You shrug.
“Y/n, is something going on?” Viv asks, her voice gentle. 
I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore, I just want to sleep, I wish I didn’t exist, life would be easier if I didn’t exist, I don’t understand why any of you are here, why do you care about me, I don’t care about me, I’m not worth caring about.
You shrug, then shake your head. 
“I just don’t want to play anymore,” you finally say. You’re not sure if it’s the truth or not. You loved playing, once. You loved the feeling that you got when you were on the pitch, the way it made everything else melt away. But you haven’t had that feeling in a while. When you’re on the pitch, the voice telling you you’re not good enough follows you. 
Your former teammates frown. They’re not convinced, and honestly, neither are you. You say that you’re tired, you want to sleep. They get the hint and leave, but not before each hugging you tightly, telling you to call them if you need anything. Beth and Viv promise to bring Myle around at the weekend, and Leah says she’ll come and see you tomorrow. 
They keep it up for a few weeks, but the season is starting, and you know they’re busy. You spend your days at home, curled up in bed, cocooned in a blanket. You watch tv and scroll on your phone for hours. You order the food shopping to be delivered so you don’t even have to leave the house. Someone usually visits you on their day off, and the girls message you. You go over to Beth and Viv’s place, cuddle the dogs, watch tv there instead of in bed at home. It's okay. You’re fine. You don’t feel any better, really, but it’s fine.
It starts when you’re forced to go to a movie night. Leah promises it’s just a small group of the girls, she knows you don’t want to be faced with the whole team. She tells you that there’s one new girl there, the new signing, but that she’s really nice. On the day, you think about ways to get out of it - surely Leah can’t just force you to go? 
She can and she does. She shows up at your house, tells you that she will pick you up and put you in the car if she has to. You crack a smile at the image. It’s the first time you’ve smiled in a while. Leah notices. 
The movie night is at hers. She's picked you up early, and when you get back to her place she sets you to work, chopping fruits and veggies for a snack board. The doorbell rings, the first person arriving. You expect it to be maybe Beth and Viv, who are usually pretty punctual, but it’s the new girl. Alessia. You've seen her in person a couple of times, when the team played against Manchester United last season, but you were already feeling out of it and hadn’t paid much attention to her then.
She comes in, hugs Leah and smiles at you. You smile back. She asks if there’s anything she can do to help, and Leah directs her to some meat and cheese she’s put out that needs slicing. She's been seeing charcuterie boards on instagram a lot lately and wanted to try making one.
“You mean, you wanted to get us to make one for you,” Alessia teases, and you let out a small laugh. It surprises you, and Leah, whose mouth drops open slightly. Alessia doesn’t think twice of it - why would she, she’s never really met you before. She wouldn’t know that it’s the first time anyone has made you laugh in, well, months. 
The evening goes well. It's nice to be around the girls. You don’t pay much attention to the movie, your brain feels too foggy to keep up with it. The mean voice returns, telling you that you’re just there because they feel sorry for you. You start picking at your nails. 
“I like your nail polish,” Alessia leans over and says to you quietly. She’s sat next to you on the sofa. 
“Oh, thanks,” you reply, taken aback. The nail polish is chipped and worn, remnants from Katie coming over and painting your nails a few weeks ago. 
“It's a great colour. I like having my nails done but I'm terrible at leaving them alone. I fidget too much and I'm clumsy so I usually end up breaking at least one,” she tells you, looking at her own nails. 
You nod, not saying anything. You wrack your brain, trying to think of what to say or how to act. It's been so long since you talked to anyone new that you feel like you’ve forgotten how to be normal.
“Um, you can borrow it, if you want,” you say. “The colour, I mean. I can give it to one of the girls to give to you.”
“Really? That’d be great!” she looks at you with a big smile. You feel an odd sensation in your stomach, like you’ve just had a hot drink and the warmth is trying to spread throughout your body.
You nod shyly, giving her a small smile.
After that night, she starts messaging you. The first message you write off as being about the nail polish. After all, why else would she message you? She keeps going, though. After she sends you a message thanking you for the nail polish, she mentions a book she’s reading. You’ve read it too, so you figure the polite thing to do is to ask her what she thinks of it so far. Then she asks you for recommendations. You’ve been reading a lot, lately, now that you have time. You send her a detailed list, then realise that maybe that’s too much, but you’ve sent it now. She replies with heart eyes and exclamation marks, so you think that maybe it was okay after all. 
She asks if she can come over to borrow a book you’ve told her about. After a moment of hesitation, you say yes, she can come over tomorrow afternoon, if that works. You spend the rest of the day cleaning and tidying. The next morning you find a chocolate chip cookie recipe. You used to bake a lot, but you didn’t really have time for it anymore after becoming a professional footballer, and you weren’t meant to be eating that kind of thing anyway. The thought crosses your mind as you mix the ingredients that maybe Alessia won’t want any, since most of the team eat pretty healthily. You keep mixing. It’s too late now, you might as well finish making them.
You’re nervous, waiting for her to arrive. You’re not sure why, probably just because you haven’t interacted with her alone before. You’ve put some cookies out on a plate in case she wants any, and you’ve already got the book she wants to borrow lying on the table. 
When the doorbell rings, it makes you jump. You open the door and she steps inside, immediately giving you a hug, then quickly stepping back.
“Sorry, is hugging okay? I need to get better at checking with people before I hug them,” she says apologetically.
“Hugging is okay,” you nod, and she grins and pulls you into a hug.
“Oh my god, it smells amazing in here!” she exclaims, looking around.
“I made chocolate chip cookies,” you explain, and brace yourself for rejection. “Do you want one?”
“Absolutely!” she says, and you try to hide the surprise on your face. You offer her the plate and she takes one. When she bites into it, she lets out a moan that has you blushing. “Holy shit, y/n, these are incredible! You really made these yourself?”
You feel that warmth pooling in your stomach again. You nod, smiling shyly. 
“You should be a professional baker or something, these are so so good!” she tells you, polishing off the cookie. You can’t help but smile. There are crumbs on the corners of her mouth and a smear of chocolate on her chin.
“You’ve, um, got something,” you say, pointing to your chin. “Right there. A bit of chocolate, I think.”
“Whoops,” she blushes, wiping the chocolate away with a sheepish smile.
“Oh, I have the book you wanted,” you say, figuring that she probably has things to do. 
“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” she asks.
A pit opens up in your stomach. “No, no!” you quickly insist, but she laughs and waves you off.
“I’m just teasing,” she tells you, smiling. 
You smile back, but it’s forced. It doesn’t seem like Alessia notices, though. 
“You have a lot of books,” she says, eyeing the large bookshelf in your living room. “Have you always read a lot?”
“I used to, when I was little. I didn’t really have time to read as much when I joined the team,” you say, and wince at the mention of your leaving. She’s never brought up the fact that she essentially replaced you, and you don’t want her to.
“I’m guessing leaving the team has given you a lot more time for things like reading?” she asks, and you nod. 
“And baking,” you add, not wanting it to seem like you’ve just been sitting at home not doing anything since you left. Even if that is the truth. She doesn’t need to know that today is the first time you’ve baked in, well, years.
“True, that one is very important!” she says, taking another cookie from the plate. “Seriously, y/n, these are amazing.”
She keeps asking you things, about yourself, about books, about your life, and you don’t realise how much time has passed until you look outside to see that it’s gotten dark. She follows your gaze out of the window and jumps up.
“Shit, I didn’t realise how late it was! I really should get going,” she says apologetically.
You hold out the plate of cookies. “Want one for the road?”
The two of you message more after that. It’s weird, how easy it is to talk to her. You chalk it up to the fact that she never met you before you left. This is the only version of you she knows. She doesn’t expect anything from you.
A couple weeks later, she asks if she can borrow another book. This time she wants you to recommend something for her, and you pore over your bookshelf for hours, trying to find the perfect book for her. Once you’ve decided on one, the next task you’re faced with is what to bake this time. She didn’t mention anything about it, but after she enjoyed your cookies so much, it feels like it’d only be right to bake something again. 
This time you make pumpkin spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. You carefully mould little pumpkins out of marzipan to decorate the cupcakes, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the look of astonishment on her face when she eats one and lets out a moan at how good it is. She keeps commenting on the little pumpkins, in awe at the fact that you made them by hand, and the warm feeling spreads throughout your body, making your fingers tingle. After she leaves, armed with a new book and two more cupcakes, you get a message from Leah, inquiring about where her cupcake is, and how come Alessia gets cupcakes but you’ve never baked anything for her, and you smile to yourself.
The days in between visits are not as good. You still spend a lot of time curled up in bed. Sometimes, you think about the future, and you usually end up falling asleep trying not to think about it, brain spiralling. 
This goes on for a few months. Every couple of weeks, Alessia visits you for a new book and some new baked goods, and every time the two of you spend a little longer talking. You both avoid the topic of you leaving the team and what you’re going to do next. You have enough money in savings that it’s not something you have to worry about, for a while at least, and thinking about it makes you want to cry, or sleep, or just not exist anymore.
One day, though, Alessia is sitting on your sofa, eating a slice of lemon cake, when she asks gently, “What are you doing, y/n?”.
The question is enough to make you burst into tears, tears that you didn’t know you’d been holding in. 
“I don’t- I don’t know,” you sob helplessly as she rushes to your side, pulling you into a hug.
“Well, what do you want to do?” she asks after you’ve calmed down a little.
The question makes you stop. You haven’t thought about that in forever. 
“All I’ve ever wanted to do is play football,” you shrug. 
“But… not anymore?” she prompts you. You can understand why she’d think that. You quit, after all.
“I don’t know. I think I do still want to play, just… not at that level. It was too much. I feel like I-” you trail off, sighing. “I feel like I lost myself. And I still don’t know where I am, or who I am. Everything just feels so hard, like it’s all so much effort, and like there’s nothing I can do to stop it all from happening, like it’s a huge wave and I’m just getting tossed around under the water, barely able to come up for air.”
She nods, not saying anything, and you feel a sudden rush of embarrassment for opening up like that.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I said all that, I-” you say, but she cuts you off.
“No, it’s okay! I asked, I want to know. And it makes sense. A friend of mine struggled with depression a lot when we were teenagers, and-”
“Wait, depression? You think I’m depressed?” you ask, confused. Alessia laughs gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“Oh, I’m 99% sure you’re depressed,” she says. 
“Wha- I’m not depressed,” you insist, shaking your head. “It’s not like I want to hurt myself or anything.”
“Okay, but do you ever feel like it would be easier if you didn’t exist?” she asks, and you frown. “Or, like, have you lost interest in things you were previously passionate about? Do you feel tired all the time?”
“Okay,” you say, slowly. “So, maybe I’m a little depressed.”
The mean voice at the back of your mind laughs. 
“What if I’m just being dramatic, though?” you ask. “Plus, I have no reason to be depressed. I have a good life, I have nothing to worry about.”
“Look, what if you go and see someone? A doctor, or a therapist?” she suggests, and your cheeks burn at the thought of burdening someone else with your problems.
“No, it’s fine, it’s not that serious,” you say, waving a hand. “There’s definitely more important stuff they have to deal with. I’m fine, seriously.”
She raises an eyebrow but drops the topic. She brings it up the next time she comes over though, and the next, and the next. You think about it a lot.You look stuff up online, look at social media accounts talking about people’s experiences, buy books dealing with the subject. 
The next time she comes over, you tell her you’ve made an appointment with a therapist, and she hugs you tightly. 
You start seeing each other weekly, after that. Sometimes she’ll go to yours, sometimes you’ll go to hers. She’s on a mission to help you figure out what you want, and nothing is going to stop her. She buys you baking books and equipment, goes to galleries and museums with you, watches documentaries on pretty much everything and anything the two of you can find. When you mention that you’ve been thinking about learning how to play the piano, she helps you find a teacher nearby. 
Things are looking up. You still don’t know what you want to do, but you’re feeling better. Your therapist is good, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re in a position to be able to pay for private therapy. 
When Alessia rings your doorbell, you don’t think anything of it. You’d planned for her to come over to watch a documentary she’d found about llamas (you weren’t sure what revelation you were going to have about your future from watching something about llamas, but who were you to deny her?). When you open the door, she’s smiling from ear to ear and holding a box.
“I have a surprise for you,” she says, closing the door behind her gently as she comes in.
She carefully sets the box down and opens it to reveal a small ginger kitten. It looks up at you with wide eyes and lets out a small meow, then puts its paws up on the edge of the box, looking out curiously.
“Alessia, what is this? Whose kitten is this?” you ask, dumbfounded.
“Yours?” she asks, smiling sheepishly. 
“What do you mean, mine?” 
“I mean, she’s your kitten. If you want her? Oh god, please say you want her. It’s just, you talked about having a cat when you were younger, and how much you’d like to have one again, and I figured they’re a lot lower maintenance than dogs, and-” she’s cut off by you hugging her tightly. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you try to blink them away fiercely, still hugging Alessia. 
A small mew alerts you to the kitten, who has jumped out of the box and is rubbing her head against your leg. 
“I have her stuff in the car,” Alessia says, nodding towards the door. “I’ll just go get it?”
You nod, unable to look at anything but the tiny kitten now trying to clamber up your leg. 
You’ve been seeing your therapist for about 6 months when Alessia asks you to be her girlfriend. It’s a couple months after she got you Dorothea - Dory for short (or Dorito, occasionally), as you’d named the ginger kitten. You’re stunned, but quickly nod yes as she starts to bite her lip, looking worried at your lack of answer. You hug her, feeling her breathe a sigh of relief against you, and when she kisses you she tastes like the chocolate chip cookies you’d made earlier that day, the same recipe as the first time she’d come over. 
Your therapist has been helping you figure out what you want, now that you’re slowly regaining some of the passion you’d lost. You decide that you do still want to do something with football, just, as you’d told Alessia, not professional football. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed having time to yourself, having other hobbies outside of your work. 
You get in contact with Jonas, who puts you in contact with some other people, and before you know it you’re back at the club. Not on the team, you've made it pretty clear that that’s not what you want. Instead, you’re spending the day at the youth program. You already know by lunch time that this is what you want to do. 
Before you know it, you’re settled in as a coach for the Academy. Your days consist of working with kids, young people who have the whole world ahead of them. You still have bad days sometimes, where it feels like you can’t get out of bed. On days like that Dory cuddles up next to you in bed, and Alessia holds you close. She moves in after you get the job, claiming it makes sense, since you’re always either at her place or she’s at your place anyway. She insists that she’s still very much a dog person, but you catch her asleep on the sofa one evening, with Dory curled up on her lap, and you smile.
485 notes · View notes
hanjisick · 2 years ago
Text
— COOKIES
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
order #6 of the coffee shop series: a cookie
ingredients. y/n x barista!felix. he’s never had a gf before. hopeless pining on felix’s end. mostly fluff with some angst. also the boys keep trying to play shitty wingmen again.
allergies. making out and felix being awkward
size. 3.2k
special add ons. felix is a sociable, confident, kind barista at yellow wood café. but once you show up on one rainy day, you turn him into a mess.
Tumblr media
you hadn’t prepared for the rain to come so quickly.
the forecast had said that it would only pick up in the afternoon, and you figured that you would be home by then. so of course, you had left your umbrella at home.
you decided to run into the nearest building, hoping to stay there until the rain had died down a little.
it was a coffee shop, one that you hadn’t been to before. you had no clue how you didn’t know the place existed. it seemed like just your type of hang-out spot.
the difference between the café and outside was stark. looking through the windows, it was gloomy and intense, while inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy. the smell of coffee brewing and people chatting filled your senses.
“can i help you?” you had been staring off for a minute now, your entire body drenched in rain.
“sorry,” you apologized, “i was just looking for somewhere to be until the rain stopped.”
“you’re alright! could i get anything for you while you wait?”
your eyes stared the barista up and down. he was around your age— and was the epitome of sunshine. his features were gentle and strikingly beautiful.
his name tag read “felix.”
then, you drifted towards the menu on the counter, written in chalk, slightly smudged.
“are the cookies any good?” you questioned, staring at the cute plastic containers full of baked goods, specifically the heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies.
“well, i baked them myself, so they better be good.” felix’s shy smile told you that he was proud of his baking.
“i’ll buy one and see for myself.”
usually, the freckled barista wasn’t nervous at comments like these, but your gentle eyes made his heart flip in ways that he didn’t quite understand. “will that be all?”
“for now.”
he rang you up, handing you the cookies straight out of the container.
without waiting to sit down, you bit into the cookie.
two of felix’s fingers met his neck, checking his pulse quickly— a nervous habit of his.
but his nerves turned into excitement as your eyes lit up.
“i’ll take two more cookies and a mocha, please!”
felix couldn’t help but smile widely, “our muffins are really good too. we have blueberry and chocolate chip right now, but i’m working on a recipe for a cappuccino muffin.”
you cut his ramble short, “i’ll try both. and a brownie.”
“got a sweet tooth?” he rolled up the sleeves of his baby blue cardigan to begin making your mocha, “i don’t want you to get any cavities.”
“i’ll have just one bite of each and bring it home with me,” you reasoned, taking a stool at the bar, “i have nothing better to do, anyway. the rain says it’ll last for another hour.”
“so you’re gonna spend that hour taste-testing the treats?”
“i’ve never been here before, i better start working on my regular order.”
“will you be a new regular?”
“if the mocha is good. otherwise i think i’ll just go back out into the rain, i’m already drenched anyway.”
there you go again. causing felix to worry about how good his barista skills were in a way that nobody does.
he couldn’t help but drizzle a chocolate heart on top before handing it to you.
immediately felix jumped back. “your hands are freezing!”
“that’s what happens when you’re in the rain.”
you couldn’t help but chuckle at felix’s concern. it wasn’t bad at all.
“i think this goes against every rule we have here,” felix shrugged off his cardigan, throwing it across the counter.
immediately your quiet laugh died down, your stomach twisting with butterflies. mostly at how kind the freckled boy was, but you couldn’t ignore the way that the white shirt under it clung to him tighter.
“thank you.” you wrapped yourself in the cardigan, breathing in a faint scent of a fruity perfume, almost masked by the overwhelming smell of coffee.
“felix,” chan, his boss, nudged him with a grin, “did you just do what i think you did?”
if it were any other barista, they would’ve been scolded. but felix had taken up a large spot in chan’s heart, one that meant that he refused to rebuke the boy.
“she was cold! right, y/n?” he defended, “she just came in from the rain outside.”
“so you’re just gonna give every customer your clothes if they’re cold?”
you could see a faint red tint forming on felix’s ears, “well no! but she’s new, i wanted to give her a warm welcome.”
there was a familiar look in chan’s eyes, one that felix could spot from miles away. one of knowing.
“alright then. i’m glad you were able to earn us a new customer. even if it meant giving up your clothes.”
“do you have any paper?” you interrupted with a mouthful of muffin, “and maybe a pen too?”
felix was thankful that you saved him from chan. “yeah! i’ll get it for you. hold on.”
thirty minutes later, once a spot of sunlight through the clouds had appeared, you were gone.
felix glanced over at your spot, sadness pulling on his heart, full of what if’s.
what if you didn’t come back? what if that was the last time he would see you?
he noticed the piece of paper left behind.
the title read, “felix’s bakery ranking.”
first place was the cookies. second was the brownies. then the chocolate chip muffin, then the blueberry.
“she must love chocolate,” felix jumped at jeongin’s voice from behind him, “she also got a mocha, right?”
“how do you know? you weren’t even here.”
“chan was telling the group chat.”
“he was doing what?” felix reached for the phone in his back pocket to confirm his words.
“talking about how you were mesmerized by that girl.”
“was not!”
“you totally were,” chan patted his back, “i’ve never seen you smile that wide.”
“says a lot for how much he smiles.”
felix groaned as jeongin flipped over the scrap paper.
“see you at 3 tomorrow,” he read out, looking up at felix whose eyes widened, turning to chan.
“i don’t work tomorrow! can i work tomorrow?”
“so it isn’t just you being kind?”
“i need to get my cardigan back.”
“you’re a terrible liar. just admit that you want to see her again.”
“just schedule me to work tomorrow!”
the next day, felix was walking on clouds.
the boy normally walked with a pep in his step, serving customers with a comfortable kindness that nobody else could replicate, but today there was an extra hint of sweetness to everything that he did. even some of the most unobservant customers had pointed it out.
but each of the boys knew exactly why he was acting the way that he was, thanks to the messages that chan had sent.
as the vintage clock on the wall inched closer and closer to 3, felix became more dazed, clumsy even.
“are you sure that he should be working right now?” minho shot chan a questioning look.
“just let him get it out of his system.”
“but we’re cleaning up his spill messes all for a girl that he had one conversation with. he’s hopeless.”
“i don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend before.”
“really?” minho’s eyebrows raised, “with how all of the girls stick to him like glue?”
“i don’t think he knows how much of a heartthrob he is.”
chan glanced towards felix, who was busy chatting with two girls who had stopped by just a few minutes ago, “he’s clueless sometimes.”
the bell on the door rang as you stepped in, blue sweater in hand, eyes darting across the room to find the blonde boy who immediately abandoned his conversation.
“i came to return this,” you slid it across the counter, just as felix had done the previous day, “and get a cookie as well.”
“just the cookie?”
“and a mocha.”
“your total will be—“
“just give it to her for free,” chan whispered from behind, trying to help the frantic boy.
“it’ll be free today,” felix stumbled on his words, “and maybe i could heat the cookies for you too? they’re better warm.”
“that would be great,” you took a seat at the same spot as before, “your customer service is top tier. free service and a cardigan on a rainy day?”
“we try.” felix couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face, or take his eyes off of you.
even when you weren’t paying attention to him, typing on your laptop and munching on a cookie, he would stare at you, just barely hiding behind the espresso machine.
“why don’t you ask for her number?”
felix jumped as yet another barista appeared from behind him— something that had been happening too much recently. or perhaps he was just less focused on his surroundings.
“i can’t do that. what if she rejects me?”
“she would’ve let you down by now, do you know how obvious you’re making it?” hyunjin tried to reason with him.
“i guess that’s true, but i’m nervous. she’s really pretty.”
“so? you’re pretty too.”
felix gave the compliment a light laugh, “but she’s intimidatingly pretty.”
he kept an eye on the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, your finger tapping to the rhythm of the café’s record player on the table.
“you’re such a hopeless romantic. just get her number. she’s gonna leave again and you’re gonna be upset that you didn’t.”
“maybe.”
with those words in mind, felix shyly approached you, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt.
“hey,” he started, almost chickening out just from your eye contact.
his fingers went to his throat, checking his pulse, “do you think i could get your number?”
when you stared at him in silent shock for a moment, he continued, “not as, like, a weird thing! i just want to be your friend.”
he could see hyunjin out of the corner of his eye, ready to pull out his hair in frustration.
your smile faltered, but you still took the phone from his hand, saving your name as y/n.
“text me later.” there was a hint of sadness in your voice that felix didn’t fail to pick up on, but he didn’t dare to comment on it.
he ran off into the back room, ready to scream over the most embarrassing, disappointing moment in his entire life.
hyunjin followed close behind, “felix! what the hell?”
“i got nervous!”
“so you decided to friend-zone her?”
“she could’ve friend zoned me first!”
“she obviously wasn’t going to!”
“but if she did then i think i’d die!”
hyunjin was close to slamming his head against the nearest wall. “i’m gonna die right now if you don’t walk back out there and tell her that you’ve spent the whole day thinking about how pretty she is!”
“she’ll think i’m weird!”
“then i’ll do it!” felix tried to hold him back but failed as hyunjin opened the door, only to be met with an empty spot where you used to be.
felix let go, his shoulders dropping.
“where is she?”
“i guess she left,” hyunjin turned to see his devastated friend.
“did i fuck up that badly?”
hyunjin bit his lip, trying not to make it worse for him than it already was. but the truth was that, yeah, he did.
“maybe she’ll be back.”
felix texted you that night while he sat in bed, deciding on, “hi it’s felix! :)”
he kept his cardigan next to him.
perhaps it was a little creepy, but he decided to sniff it. it smelled different than usual. perhaps that’s what you smelled like.
perhaps he would never even get to know what you smelled like.
tears brimmed his eyes as he shut off his phone, staring up at the fan on his ceiling, letting the noise drown out the eerie silence.
felix wanted to slap himself for being such an idiot. he had no problem talking to people, he was the most extroverted extrovert that an extrovert could get. but he couldn’t help but question everything he did in front of you, even if he had just met you.
you didn’t respond.
when felix showed up to work the next day, it was like the sunshine was hidden behind a rainy cloud.
he knew that it shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did. he knew that checking to see if he got a text every minute wasn’t normal, or whip his head toward the door every time a customer came in.
so felix spent another night in his bed, phone in hand, staring at the text that he sent.
would it just be easier to forget about you? it’s not like he had anything going with you anyway.
it was only when he set it down for the night and closed his eyes that it began to ring, and he sprang right back up, eyes widening as he stared at the caller ID.
it was minho.
“hello?” felix answered, voice filled with sleep.
“you were upset at work today,” he stated, “is it because of that girl?”
“you could see it?”
“everyone could. like we always do.”
“i’m just gonna try to forget about it.”
“don’t.”
“what do you mean?”
“you have her number, right? come clean, text her that you were nervous. ask to meet up.”
“like a date?”
“exactly. ask her on a date.”
felix chewed on his lip, anxiety clouding his judgment once again. would he have the courage to even do that?
“chan said that you’re not allowed to work until you sort out your sadness. and nobody wants to cover your shifts, man.”
when minho hung up the phone, felix laid back against his pillows, letting out a breath of air that he didn’t know he was holding. then he checked his pulse.
opening your texts, he began typing. ‘i lied. it was something weird. you’re really pretty. you can block me if you want.’
he deleted the message.
‘actually,’
no.
‘i meant to ask for your number in a not-friend-way,’
no.
‘sorry for the other day. i was anxious and said the wrong thing, but i really wanted your number because i think you’re gorgeous. do you want to go out sometime?’
he sent the message and resisted the urge to chuck his phone across the room. instead, he threw it back down onto the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and squeezing it as hard as he could.
minutes later, felix heard his phone buzz. he scrambled to pick it up.
‘that’s ok. i was a little disappointed, you’re rly cute :)’
it buzzed again.
‘wanna come over tomorrow and watch a movie or something?’
his fingers shook, trying to type back, ‘sounds great! does 5 work?’
you reacted to his text with a thumbs up, and then he was back to squeezing the pillow.
felix didn’t work the next day. instead, he spent the day showering, squealing, spam-texting friends, and preparing for his first-ever date.
when you opened the doorbell, you were met with quite possibly the cutest sight in the entire world.
there felix was, holding a box of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies in his shaky hands. “i baked these for you, kind of as an apology, kind of because i wanted to impress you. and i know you like the cookies.”
you giggled at his honesty, letting him inside as you took the box, “thank you felix, you’re such a sweetheart.”
he checked his pulse.
“sorry for the mess. i tried to clean a little, but i don’t have people over often.”
“it’s okay,” he was quick to reassure you, “my house doesn’t look all that clean either. kind of comes with being a human.”
you laughed, taking a seat on the couch. he followed your actions.
“so, about the whole number thing,” he toyed with the rip on his black jeans.
“i thought you were really really beautiful.”
suddenly, he was way too aware of how close you were to him. but he wouldn’t let himself get nervous again.
“one of my coworkers was telling me to ask for your number and i was nervous and thought that you wouldn’t like me like that.”
felix sighed, “so i ended up saying the wrong thing and giving you the wrong idea.”
when he looked back up, you were smiling, holding in laughter. “that’s honestly adorable.”
“really?”
“i got sad, i thought you were just that kind to everyone and that i was developing some crazy ego thinking that a boy as attractive as you would like me.”
“you think i’m attractive?” his ears were on fire by now, completely stiff as you leaned in to look him in the eyes.
“i don’t understand how you don’t know how attractive you are.”
“what do you mean?”
“do i have to spell it out for you?”
“probably.”
“i think you’re gorgeous.”
“i also think the same about you. you looked so cute eating all happily, and when you smile, it makes me want to kiss you.” he chewed his lip, trying to not regret his bold words.
something tense was in the air, something that made felix’s heart pound a thousand times faster.
“then do it.”
felix froze. was he supposed to tell you that he had never kissed a girl before, much less sat this close to one?
“well, are you going to? or are you getting shy again?”
“i’ve never kissed anyone.” he let his heart thud out of his chest at the confession.
your eyes visibly widened, “you? you haven’t had your first kiss?”
“or held hands with a girl. and i’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“that’s impossible.”
“i don’t know how to prove it.”
“your awkwardness does the job.”
you decided to make a move, “but i can show you how if you’d like.”
felix’s mouth went dry, unsure of what to do or say.
“it’ll come naturally. just let it happen,” you smiled reassuringly as he nodded.
climbing onto his open lap, your hands carded through his blonde hair.
you leaned in to meet his lips briefly, his eyes burning into your own.
it was a soft and gentle kiss, just like him. but his eyes were full of desire for more.
“can i have another?” his hands met your back, pulling you into him.
this time, the kiss lasted longer, so much longer that he began craving more of you, so he did what he saw in all the movies.
he slipped his tongue into your mouth, grinning against your lips in pride at his actions.
felix’s hands traveled to your waist as took your word, letting go of his anxieties and doing what came naturally.
and without even realizing it, he began to take the lead.
all of the feelings were overwhelming. the way that you tugged on his hair, how close your bodies were, the way your tongue felt against his own.
he never wanted to stop.
until his phone began ringing.
you pulled away and he let out a shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes to stare at your features up close.
“felix, your phone,” you reminded him.
he jolted out of the daze, reaching for it.
chan.
he was about to just cancel the call when he saw the spam texts, asking where he was.
with a heavy sigh, he answered with you still on his lap.
“did you make up with y/n?”
“be quiet! i’m with her right now!”
you let out a laugh.
“oh! tell her hi!”
felix hung up on his friend with a groan, turning the ringer off.
“can we go back to kissing again?”
“after he’s done blowing you up,” you pointed at the buzzing phone.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
amarynthian-chronicles · 4 months ago
Text
Silken Chains and Nerves of Steel
Spider demon Moon, elegantly spinning his web, whispering adoringly: pretty butterfly, how ethereal your beauty is, the entire fairy court would envy you. Eyes glistening like droplets of rain in the sacred moonlight after a storm, lips softer than the petals of the rarest rose, heart beating with the strength of all beasts combined.
Y/N, tied up, struggling to get free: this is what I get for not cleaning the basement for so long, everybody just moves in as they please.
Moon, leaning closer, purring: we were merely building a nest, a home, and we crave the tenderness and affection of a mate. We sense that you are lonely, as well, haunting these halls like a ghost without a companion, ancient books the only thing lulling you to sleep.
Y/N, groaning: look, can you just let me go for a moment so I can go turn the oven off? The cookies are almost done and you do not want our "nest" to burn down. I promise not to run away.
Moon, snickering: I already sent my brother to handle that task for you. We can be good caretakers and providers. We will never let a single thing bother you ever again. Allow us to adore you, lonely butterly.
Spider demon Sun, happily arriving from the kitchen upstairs, a silly pink apron around his upper waist: I got the cookies! I made an entirely new batch, yours were a bit dry and that was unacceptable. Also, I would recommend a change in interior design, that sofa in your parlour is offending me with its very existence.
Y/N: out of the question! Also, this is absolutely unacceptable, I have things to do, errands to run, I can't just play with you two walnuts all day. Will you ever let me go outside again?
Sun, grinning and lovingly patting Y/N's head: perhaps on a silken leash, my love.
Y/N:....you know what, fine, but if they ask us questions at the post office and the grocery store, you two idiots will be the ones answering them.
304 notes · View notes
i-am-hungry-24-7 · 6 months ago
Text
[Counting Down To Heaven] TF141*Reader
They wait outside the operation room for your emergency op to finish, they try to stay awake, but tiredness eventually drags them into a dream.
cw: gore and wound mentioned
Price (fear of his job will put u in danger)
He opens the door, coming back home is the thing bracing him through the grueling mission, because it means coming back to you.
The living room is full of the sweet scent of fresh-baked cookies, he hums and calls out your name, putting his hat down and walks inward, not realizing the soothing yellow light turns off itself behind him.
He frowns when he feels the air is freezingly cold he frowns, and he realizes something the moment he turns the knob on the door of you two’s bedroom
The house is too quiet, eerily silent.
His cry stucks in his throat when his eyes land on your figure, lying in the blood pool, cloudy eyes looking straightly into his.
As he drops to his knee and crawls to your side, he recognizes there’s something in his grasp.
A tactical knife dripping blood, gripped in his hand, and it suits the slash wound across your throat.
Soap (fear of being overconfident)
He tells you everything’s okay, all his plans will lead to success, don’t worry, just follow behind him.
So he never looks back to check on you during the battle, eyes lock on his enemies, adrenaline pumping through his body, heartbeats deafening, and makes him unaware of the sound of your footsteps disappears.
It’s too late when he turns around and can’t find you, the thick fog surrounding him obscures his sight, so he just runs as fast as he can towards the only tunnel with lights in the end.
Only be welcomed by your body hanging high on the tree by his enemy, but after a blink, he isn’t standing at the same spot.
He’s tying the rope around your neck and unable to stop himself.
Gaz (fear of having wrong decision)
“Give me a donut, thanks babe.” You say to him with a smile, and he leans down to press a kiss on your cheek then walks into the coffee shop.
He waits for quite a while, finally getting his order, and can’t wait to meet you outside and see your delighted face when you’re enjoying your favorite dessert.
but when he pushes open the door, all he can see is blood, gun, corpse.
Battlefield.
He yells your name immediately, trying to search for you as he rushes between countless dead bodies.
Until he spots clothes with a familiar pattern peeking out under one of the remnants that he dashes to its side, pawing at the rocks and glass even if they cut open his palms, he doesn’t care, and finally, you reveal from the gravel, with a gunshot wound right on your temple.
What he only can do is carefully hug you in his arms and regret his decision — leaving you alone.
Ghost (fear of losing his love because of himself)
He’s washing his hands, water pouring from the sink, but none of the blood is getting off of his skin.
He scrubs his hands, harder and rougher, until his skin is broken, and his blood combines with yours from the scratches scattering across his hands.
He raises his head and smashes the mirror above because no matter what he does, the blood just stains his palms.
When he finally takes a good look at the shattered mirror, he sees you in it.
Bloody and pale, lifeless. Glints no longer exist in your eye, and he crumbles to the floor with a desperate sob.
212 notes · View notes
darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago
Text
In Abstract 1
Tumblr media
A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man
Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.
This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won't seem to let you go.
Character: mob!Clark Kent
Note: I don't know where this came from.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
Tumblr media
A speck of red. A speck of red in a sea of blue. From the observer's eye, one would not notice. But the creator, the artist, the start error is obvious. No inadvertent, but entirely deliberate. A reminder of what it cost you.
You close your eyes and the fleck of blood sears in your mind. Like the site of your boyfriend gasping his last breaths. Ex, now. For a while. It feels like yesterday yet no time at all.
You shiver and hug yourself through the white cashmere. The sweater offers little warmth in the cold house. The glass doors look out onto the white lawn, a fresh dusting of snow trims the covered pool and blankets the landscape. It would be beautiful to any who did not know the sinister secrets of this place. The crimes witnessed by these walls alone.
You turn away from the portrait hung above the gaping fireplace. Even the crackling flames cannot warm you. There is no comfort in this house or the man who resides there. A warden, a maniac, a murderer.
You near the glass doors, eyes drawn to how the snow gathers in corners. The thin sheet of frost that cakes the panes and the fog of your breath as you stand close. The world outside is obscured by your own existence.
Silence. Stillness. Distance. Isolation. The vast grayness of your small world trapped behind a transparent wall. You touch the handle, feeling the cold metal, gripping it tight. A sudden urge to run out and dive into the heaps.
"Dinner tonight?" Clark's voice claps like thunder through the lull.
You gasp and recoil from the door. You turn to him, hugging yourself as much out of fright as the temperature. You step away from the door and your yearning for escape.
"Dinner," you repeat, your hollow voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"Yes, your mother is coming to town? We'll get her from the airport and take her to Elliston's?"
"Are you asking or telling?" You mutter as you drop your arms, tucking your hands up the cuffs.
You sweep away, crossing to the archway that opens into the spacious kitchen. You go to the counter and flip up the lid of the coffee machine. You focus on the rack of pods. It's habit more than anything, often you let your cup go cold, basking in the scent but too numb to taste it.
He follows. You sense him. Like you always do. Always hovering. Always watching.
"Don't be like this. You've been looking forward to her visit."
You grumble as you pick out the cinnamon cookie pod and shove it in the top. You shrug. Not really. You only ever play the part he wants. Move your brush to his whim, streak the paint by his word, lay on your back as he gets what he wants.
"And I have been too. I can't wait to meet your family. All of them."
Your chest winds tight. You can't tell if it's a threat or genuine. He is always hard to decipher. If you had ever been able to see through him, you wouldn't be standing there, trapped in his house, in his grip.
Five months. Five months in your cell. Five months with Marcus' blood on your soul. 
"I'll get a room ready," you put a mug under the spout and hit the brew button. 
He lurks closer. You stare and wait for the drip to begin. He puts his hands on your shoulders, the fabric turning course beneath the weight of his grasp.
"Nina's already working on it," he growls into your crown, "don't act so hard done by…"
"I'm not," the trickle spits out and hits the porcelain sharply.
"I give your more than he ever–"
You tear away from him, sliding along the counter as you spin to face him. He clucks and tilts his head, slowly pivoting towards you. The anger cordons in his cheek.
"I told you…"
He scoffs. "You're right, he was nothing. Not worth talking about. Sweetheart, it was always going to be me."
You clamp your lips shut as your eyes sting. He doesn't wake up every day in horror, he doesn't sink into sleep like a stone in mud, he doesn’t know what it is to live in black and white when the world used to be painted in a million colours.
"I'll confirm what time she gets in."
He sighs and crosses his arms. You look down at the white sweater and unroll the crumpled hem. You didn't wear cashmere before, no silk, no satin. Just cotton and tweed. Now you wear what he tells you to.
"Find something to wear for dinner," he demands, "and after."
He crosses the pristine tile and you look at him in the face, eyes glossy and pathetic. He kisses your forehead as his hand comes up to your chin, his thumb stroking your lips. He inhales your scent and lets out a growl.
"Wear the diamonds," he demands.
He lets you go and leaves you there. You watch after him as he stalks off, checking the time on his wristband. He clears his throat as he turns out of your sight. Your vision blurs to a muddy blur.
The coffee machine dings and brings you back. As much as you love your mother, how do you explain this to her? Lies are easier on the phone, but face to face, the truth is clear to see.
🎨
Your mother pulls you into a hug, her suitcase forgotten at her side. It's been almost a year since you last saw her. You and Marcus made a rare trip down for her birthday. As solitary as she prefers her life, she cherishes your rare company.
"Tweety bird, it's been so long," she hugs you, swaying you with her. She releases tou and holds you at arm's length, "don't you look like a dead mouse?"
"Ha, yeah, I was up late… painting," you smile thinly.
"Never change," she chides as you sense a shadow approach. Clark grabs the handle of her suitcase and rolls it towards him as he puts his hand on your back. "Oh, who… is this?"
"Clark," you try not to show your frustration. Your mother's always been a touch flightly, "I told you about him."
"Ah, yes, oh, that Marcus," she tuts and shakes her head, "couldn't believe it when you said he ran off but then again, I wasn't unhappy."
"Mom," you sniff.
"Well? He always left his dirty socks on the couch."
You bite the inside of your cheek. You'd rather not talk about him. You fear she'll see right through your story. Clark takes his hand off your back.
"Nice to meet you–" he begins.
"Don't be silly," she pulls him into a hug, an impressive feat as she is rail thin, "you must be the one saving my gal from heartbreak."
"Um, sure," he snorts, "you're Janine?"
"That's the one," she pulls back and fixes her wild waves, "I'm afraid she hasn't given me more than your name."
"She's been busy. Commissions and all," Clark puts on that perfect act. The gentleman with all the charm. The one you fell for. "We hope you're not too tired, I suggested a reservation for dinner…"
"Oh, yes, please, I'm starving. That airplane food is better avoided," she trills, "besides just ask Tweety, I'm mot much of a sleeper."
You shake your head in confirmation and she grins wider. Clark rolls her bag around and waves his arm ahead of him, "ladies."
"Oo, finally got yourself a gentleman."
"Mhmm," you hum as you start forward, "something like that."
🎨
You watch the wine flow into the glass, filling the belly with a rich burgundy colour. Your mother looks around emphatically as Clark gives a curt nod of dismissal to the server. You're left to peruse the menu.
“Wow, this is a fancy place,” your mom comments as she opens the leather folio containing the menu, “where was it Marc would take us? Denny’s?”
You give her a look. It’s strange, you’re mother was never one to turn her nose up at simplicity but there were some very specific sticking points when it came to your boyfriend. Ex. Or maybe money really does corrupt all.
The wine is stringent. You don’t like it. You take a hefty swig and set the stem down heavily. Clark gives you a look. Right, he has his curated image, you have to fit into that.
“So mom, how was your flight?”
“Ah, it’s fine. But I was sat next to this skinny fellow. So nervous. Jittered the whole way. I had to close the window because it made him sick. So I took a nap.”
“I hope you don’t mind shacking up with us. I thought of a hotel but we have more than enough room,” Clark suggests, “after a long day, I’m sure you’d like to just relax.”
“With us? You live together?” Your mom raises her brows.
“You knew this. Remember?”
“No, you said you moved out of your apartment, I don’t remember a where or with who. This is moving fast,” she says, “definitely not a rebound then?”
You cringe. Clark is a better actor than you. He laughs. Or maybe it is really that funny. Laughing at your dead ex and the ensuing predicament. You take another gulp of the disgusting wine.
“Well, the salmon looks interesting, “but I do prefer halibut…” she mulls over the listings, “oh, prawns. Tweety, don’t you remember when you drank all my vodka and puked up seafood all night?”
“Mom,” you swallow.
“Tweety, that’s an interesting nickname,” Clark says, opening the door for further humiliation.
“Ah, yes, well, funny story.”
“Not really,” you intone.
Your mother ignores you as she closes her menu and rests it on the table in front of her. “Her aunt used to give her Tweety Bird everything. Pajamas, stuffies, notebooks… she hates Tweety Bird. Always has but she was too nice to tell my sister so she had this little collection. I bet it’d be worth a bit now. Vintage and all that.”
“Oh, Tweety,” Clark echoes, “interesting. Cute.”
“Yellow did always suit her.”
“Anything suits her, doesn’t it?” He puts his hand over yours, “I tell her all the time. She makes paint stains look incredible. You wouldn’t believe it, at the end of the day she walks out of the studio looking like, uh, what’s that artist that does the splashes?”
“Pollock,” you answer dully.”
“She was always obsessed with men with too much time and not enough talent,” your mother remarks, “art, I’m just happy she isn’t still working at the coffee shop.”
“That was like six years ago,” you retort.
“Still, you have a degree, you should use it.”
“And she does,” Clark assures, “she’s wonderful at what she does.”
“Aw,” your mother almost fawns, “you’re such a sweetheart. Where did she find you and where do I get one?”
You barely restrain from rolling your eyes. Clark basks in the praise. You empty your glass and feel the slosh in your mind. It might be a bit too much but the wine makes the nights go quicker.
You decide on a salad. You’re not hungry. Your appetite is scant at best, food is a necessity, not a joy. Like much of your life now. It makes you miss those numbers you thought were so dire. The easy life of putting numbers in boxes and putting frozen lasagna in the oven.
The server returns and you turn your attention to his convenient arrival. You need the distraction. He nods to your empty glass and you see how Clark takes notice as well.
“Did you require more, mademoiselle?” He offers.
“One will do until we have our entrees,” Clark insists, “no good drinking on an empty stomach.”
You smile and take the stout glass of water from beside the stemmed glass, “thank you. He’s right.”
“Do we know what we’re having?” The server asks.
Clark defers to your mother with a gesture. She orders first. Halibut with the seasonal vegetables. Clark has his usual filet mignon, and you get the cobb salad. You hand over your menu and sit back, twiddling your fingers in your lap.
“Salad,” your mother comments, “when she was a teen, I couldn’t pry the onion rings out of her hands. Now look at her. It’s catching up, isn’t it?”
“Nothing wrong with being mindful,” Clark comments as he brushes his fingertips along his thick beard. He’s let it grow out, his hair too, the curls spiraling past his ears. “It’ll save room for dessert, they have a delicious creme brule.”
“Mmm, amazing–” your mother’s voice catches and she looks past you.
You don’t react right away as another serve sneaks up on you. Clark reaches behind him with one hand, covertly as if trying not to give himself away, and brings it forward as you peek up at the woman all in black. She giddily grins and backs up.
Clark takes a breath and pushes back his chair as he rises. He turns and kneels as the server hovers nearby, hands clutched together. Several other tables hush and servers look up from their work. You feel time halt as your ears ring.
Clark presents a red velvet box as your mouth falls open. For those strangers all around, those who don’t know about you or him, it must look like shock, even glee. But it's thrumming, crashing terror. No. No. Your eyes pinpoint on the large diamonds as he reveals it, three rings of smaller ones around the large.
You look up over his head then over at your mother. She dabs her eyes and covers her mouth in disbelief. You wobble as you turn back to Clark. His voice rumbles in your ears but you can’t make out the words. You blink. And blink. And blink. Gaping like a dead fish.
“...marry me?...”
His question hangs before you. You could keel over and shrivel up. You could stand up and flee. Run until you can’t stop. You close your eyes and see the blood spurting from Marcus’ chest. The image of your mother’s face flits across your mind, replacing his. You won’t let him hurt her too.
“Yes.”
The voice is not your own. It can’t possibly be because you can’t feel it on your tongue but it tickles in your ears. Clark snatches your hand and forces the diamond on, standing as he tugs you up and pulls you into an embrace. He tilts your head and kisses you. The fairy tale he writes for the onlookers is nothing more than a cautionary tale.
609 notes · View notes
whocaresstillthelouvre · 7 months ago
Text
Down Bad - A Joel Miller Drabble
Tumblr media
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 800 Summary: You get ghosted after a one night stand with your handsome neighbor. Warnings: Drinking, smut remembrance, angst. A/N: Happy Tortured Poets Department release day! Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge AGAIN. I previously wrote Paper Rings for it. TBH, I stayed up until 3:30 AM listening to TTPD last night with @ohheypedrito and your girl is STRUGGLING TODAY, but well worth it. What an album.
Masterlist
One night out with your friends, one shared glance, one half smile, one opportunity, one drink bought, one phone number drunkenly tapped into his phone. 
One date, one heated make out session in his truck, one moment of being heaven struck, one naked body left alone in your bed as he quietly leaves without a word. 
One text telling him you had a good time, one week since you’ve heard from him, countless hours of yearning for your neighbor. 
Across the street and two houses to the left, Joel Miller lives. Well manicured lawn, cute daughter who goes door to door selling Girl Scout cookies, large truck parked out the front dinged and well used. 
You’ve been down bad for him since you first moved in, a quick introductory hello and wave one early morning as you took your dog for a walk, how could you be so attracted to a total stranger?
That stranger ignoring you from that moment on, leaving you feeling nuts. Sometimes you’d take your dog for a walk when you’d notice him mowing the lawn, sneaking a glance under your sunglasses, watching the sweat make his skin glisten. Teenage crush vibes, teenage petulance coming out because you can’t have him or his attention. 
You never see him with another woman there, only his loud, precocious brother Tommy who stops to talk with you whenever you’re outside. You know he likes you, but you’re too drawn to his older brother’s beam to even want to lead him on. 
That night shared between the two of you, it almost feels like an evil experiment. He fucked you, fucked you hard, stared into your eyes as he came all over you, devoured your cunt as if he was starving, made you cum so hard it felt like you were floating in a cosmic cloud of sparks, then he left you naked and alone. He owned your body, like it was some sort of hostile takeover. 
You’re barely even sure it happened, like if you speak about the existence of that night, everybody will tell you it never happened, that you’re nuts.
Why did he leave you like that? Why did he strand you the way he did? Why can’t you have him? Why cant you have an us? 
Doesn’t he know what you would do for his attention? How you feel like you could just die when you think back to that night? You’re pathetic for him, isn’t it romantic?
You replay the words he uttered against your skin as he fucked you. “You feel so fucking good, like you were made for me.” 
The taste of your sweat against your lips makes you almost want to cry as you try to run the thoughts of him away on the treadmill at the gym. The last time you sweat like this his cock was stretching you, his hand holding your cheek, his tongue languidly licking into your mouth. 
——
After a night of staring at the ceiling, sleep not visiting you, tossing and turning not being able to get the thought of the weight of his body against yours, you decide to sit out on your porch with coffee in hand, staring at the sky as dawn approaches. A door slamming across the street startles you. He’s outside. This is it, you live in the same old familiar town, he can’t escape you, you can’t escape him. You trudge across the street, only clad in your shorts and your old Rangers shirt. You wave at him to get his attention as he finishes lifting his tool box onto his lift gate. 
You see him swallow as you stand at the edge of his driveway. 
“G’morning,” he nods. “Quite early.”
“It is. Could’t sleep.” 
“Happens to me too.”
“Mm,” you tap your foot, arms folded across your chest. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then why are you ignoring me?”
“S’complicated.”
“Try me, it’d make no difference.”
“Alright,” he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re too good. I don’t think it’s smart… for me to be with someone right now. Too much going on, ’n it’s safer if we just leave it at that. It’s better for you.”
“So, you fuck me, whisper all those sweet things in my ear, make me feel like I’m the chosen one, then just leave? How romantic Joel.”
“Never said I was the romantic type.”
“No, you’re just the fuck ‘em and strand ‘em. I guess.”
“Listen,” he looks down at his watch, “I gotta get goin’, got an important job to start. I really would like to talk more, I respect you too much ’n I really like you, I just think it’s better if you find someone else.”
“Right, well, see you around neighbor,” you bite.
Fuck it, you can’t have him. 
166 notes · View notes
yellowharrington · 9 months ago
Text
jaded - chapter 4, carmy berzatto x reader
Tumblr media
pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx
warnings: smoking mention, minors dni with this story please.
word count: 2k
a/n: ok literally i am the worst ever and i totally didn't finish this fic even tho i started it so im finally posting the last part literally MONTHS later!!! sorry besties but i couldn't have an unfinished fic out there in the world so... if u fuck w this story at all thank u for reading it and all the encouraging and nice things people have said, it literally made me want to complete this fic so thank u <3
summary: tying up loose ends.
and it's a fuckin' shame that it ended like that you broke your own heart, but you'd never say that we went to hell, but we never came back
masterlist | chapter 3
It all just feels numb.
Sun coming up over the horizon and a light snowfall onto the street below. Your home is quiet, no pans in the kitchen making French omelettes, no TV playing outside the bedroom door as you sleep. No toothbrushing in the bathroom or running shower water, warm and steamy, inviting you in.
It’s not that you weren’t expecting his answer. Or, lack thereof. It’s that he couldn’t make up his fucking mind. First, he’s cooking you an omelette in your favourite pan with a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He’s spending every evening on the couch with you, your hands splayed out against his stomach, comfortable beneath the waistband of his sweats. You’re in his sweater, baking fresh warm cookies so he can have one before bed, smudges of chocolate against your lips as he pushes you up against the counter, hot skin on cold tile.
Next, he has that look on his face, where he’s somewhere else. Thinking of her, in a dreamland where he can make it right again, and it all feels like it comes crashing down. The sweet nothings don’t exist in this realm, there’s no happiness here.
And when you do have to face him on Monday, it’s back to cold shoulder, nothing different. Yes chef, no chef, thank you chef. 
Sydney tries to make conversation, and you feel bad because you won’t bitch about Carmy like you usually would. Richie’s having secret meetings with Natalie, probably more about Claire, but you don’t even think to join in. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and it’s hard enough to go outside and take a fucking break from it all, let alone be in the same cramped kitchen with him. There’s no solitude, just aching, just disappointment.
“Did you order me a new cake pan, chef?” It’s directed at Tina, who looks up at you with the same wistful softness as she always does, smiling before nodding in your direction. You don’t hear her slide over to you, but when she suddenly appears at your station, you can tell she just knows something’s wrong.
“What’s up with you?” she asks, clipboard finding it’s way to the counter beside you, where a piping bag lays. “You’re not yourself. Something… wrong. Don’t tell me a boy did this to you.” The tears prick at your eyes and you swallow it all before you can get out a word, because yeah, it all fucking aches and the hurt feels like it’s sitting right behind your eyes, in your throat, ready to come out.
“It’s nothing. It is a boy but, boys are stupid and I’m not gonna cry over one,” you sniffle, before untying your apron and letting it hang loose on your body. “Not worth it.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
Your blood runs cold when she gestures just outside to the bright light of the door, where Carmy sits, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Luckily the kitchen is empty when you reply, only so she can hear, “how did you know?”
“I saw the way you looked at him this morning.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Fuck no. Between you and me, chef.”
You sighed relief, letting your front hit the counter as the stress left your body. “Thank fuck. Yeah, I don’t know, we were-“
“Fuckin’?” Tina’s got a sly smile on her face that makes it impossible not to laugh with her.
“Yeah, I guess. It felt like more than that. But apparently he’s still hung up on Claire so, I guess that ends it.”
She exhales slowly, joining you in a lean against the counter. “Jeff makes mistakes, everyone knows that. He’s moody and sad and he’s got fuckin’ problems, that kid, I tell ya.” She pauses for a second, eyes meeting yours, sincere. “But he’s good. I just don’t think he can handle himself, is all.” She takes a beat, letting her soft hand lay over yours, “He doesn’t let himself have the good shit because it always gets ruined. But you’re good. He’s scared of you.”
“He should be scared of me. I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you mutter, letting your floured hand meet your forehead in annoyance. “I’m not responsible for fixing his shit.”
She nods, agreeing with you, a hand cupping yours on the counter. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying he could use someone like you to bring him back to Earth, is all.”
-
When Carmy does make it back inside, he’s thumbing through paperwork at the desk, hand through his hair stressfully pulling at the strands. He’s trying so hard not to stare at you from where he’s sitting, noticing your cold gaze, somewhere far away. He takes out his phone to scroll through it mindlessly, procrastinating, when he meanders his way to the text icon and opens up your thread. A few texts here and there, mostly just asking about plans to come over, the occasional sexy photo or recipe idea.
[sunday, 10:26] they don't have fresh sourdough. should we just make some this aft?
[saturday, 4:35] i hate when you go in on saturdays
[saturday, 4:36] Photo Recieved
[saturday 4:36] don't you wish you were home with me?
[tuesday, 12:22] is balsamic glaze overdone? lmk. miss u.
It feels a little too domestic, seeing the way he so effortlessly became comfortable with you, a warmth and excitement that was just never there with Claire. It’s raw and it’s guilty and he’ll beat himself up over it forever, but it was never going to be perfect with her, no matter how hard he tried.
“Boss?”
Richie appears in the office, leaning against the door frame before noticing Carmy’s disheveled look. “Yeah?”
“You look worse than usual.”
“Thanks. What do you need?”
“Well, I was gonna ask if you ordered more eggs.”
“I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think Sydney did.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
It’s like Richie could see right through him.
“Nothin’. Stupid shit.”
Richie steps into the office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.
“Cousin.”
Richie can be sweet when he wants to be, and when he’s got a hand on Carmy’s shoulder and a somber look in his eyes it’s like he already knows how Carmy feels.
“Why do I suck so bad at being a fuckin’ normal person?”
Richie sits next to him, a look of surprise. “Is this about Claire bear?”
“Yes, well - yeah, and also no. Kinda. I don’t know.”
“Is it about Miss Buttercream out there?”
He gestures to you outside the door, zesting some orange on top of the cake you were finishing up. Carmy stifles a laugh.
“We all know you’re porkin’ her.”
“Don’t say that,” Carmy laughs, hand coming up to his face to rub his eyes. “It’s more than that. We’ve been kinda, dating, I guess? I still don’t know what counts as having a girlfriend.”
“So what did you do?”
He gnaws at the skin of his thumb and lets his eyes flicker up to Richie’s. “Fucked it. Last night, I, uh,-“ his hand finds his warm forehead. “I really like her, like a lot. But she asked about Claire and I said the wrong thing, like I always do and uh, she didn’t like it.”
“She’s good,” Richie starts, letting his hands find his aproned thighs as he sits at the corner of the desk. “Claire was good for you too. But she didn’t… get it. Not like she does,” he gestured vaguely to your station outside the door. “Claire was never gonna get the restaurant and the kitchen and the fuck of it all.”
Richie's hand extends to cup Carmy's shoulder.
“Look, do whatever you want, but there isn’t really someone who matches you like she does. Claire’s history now, drunk phone calls don’t mean she’s still in love with you. If that’s what you were thinking.”
Carmy sits back in the creaky chair. “Nah, not that. I just don’t know how to do it right.”
“It’s not about doing it right,” Richie’s got sincerity in his eyes. “It’s about fuckin’… trying shit. Just go and make a move and see.” Carmy watches you hang up your apron on the hook and grab a hoodie before fucking outside. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Richie.”
“Good luck.”
“I’m sorry.”
Carmy’s voice takes you out of your trance as you stare into the back alley of the restaurant. “Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
“You can talk, I’ll listen.”
The crackle of his lighter, orange flame against white snow. You can see his breath slipping from between his lips as he exhales out of the corner of your eye.
“I feel like a fuckin’ asshole,” he starts, plunging his other hand in his pocket. “I don’t know what to say.” A beat. “Can you look at me?” It’s gentle, a question, not a demand.
You turn to look at him. Cold blue eyes, darkened by the brightness around you. “You’re not second best to me. You’re it, this is it. I like this, I, I fuckin’,” he takes a breath, “I love… this. I want this.”
“You hurt my feelings, Carmen,” tears brimming your eyes and coating your lashes. “If you’re not done with Claire, I don’t… I don’t care. If I am your second choice, fine.” 
“You’re not.”
“Even if I was. But don’t fuck me around if you don’t want me.”
“I do.”
“Are you sure? You weren’t sure last night.”
“I get it if you don’t trust me. I get it. I haven’t given you a reason to.” He searches for the right words, but chooses to take a tentative step towards you. “I’ll beg for you,” he’s quiet, unlike Carmy. “Anything.”
Your eyes meet his briefly, a soft smile pulling at your lip. “I’m not saying yes, okay?” He nods. “But I am saying I would appreciate a ride home tonight. If you’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Good.”
-
The walk up to your apartment is easy. His heavy steps behind your light ones, hands sliding up the bannister as you unlock your door. He’s on your heels, a little behind. When he steps in your apartment, it’s familiar. Browned butter, vanilla, laundry. 
“Do you want dinner?” He’s tentative, letting his shoes sit next to yours on the mat. His jacket goes up on the hooks by the door, together. 
“Are you offering?”
“Yes.”
Carmy shows love through food, that’s how he always is. You can tell he’s feeling particularly sorry about it all because he’s bringing out a big pasta pot and a saucepan, pulling the only fresh ingredients left in your place and putting them next to the stove top. Your t-shirt finds its way into the laundry basket, an old sweater thrown over your bare skin.
You hate how normal it all feels, because it’s scary. To think of a domestic life with him, where there’s another girl lingering in the background of his thoughts that he has unfinished business with. Insecurities of who is better, prettier, happier, warmer… if he had the chance, would he leave? Would he jump ship?
He sits next to you while you eat, thighs against thighs, and comfortable silence blanketing your small apartment. He hasn’t gotten into one of the many pairs of pyjamas he’s left at your place, or taken his usual after-work shower, or taken out the frozen cookie dough to thaw. You can tell he’s not sure if he’s welcome here for good, yet.
When your food is done, he pushes the plates away and takes a calloused hand to wrap around yours. There’s sharpie marks small knife cuts on his fingers. 
“Are you gonna stay the night?” You ask, still not meeting his gaze. 
“Am I welcome to?” He doesn’t sound like himself, and you can feel his warm breath near the top of your head as you turn towards him. Your body collapses a little then, folding slightly at the middle to have your head fall right into the centre of his chest.
“Yes, Carmen,” you nod, letting your eyes flicker up to meet his. “You can stay for as long as you want.”
His hand slipped from yours then, sliding around your side and up your back. He pulled you into his embrace, lips wrapped around yours in a soft capture. Your hands found their way under his t-shirt, only slightly, his warm skin against the palms of your hands, pulling him impossibly closer. 
And when you lay in bed with him that night, your face burrowed into the softness of his chest, you know the days of waking up alone are over. 
181 notes · View notes
jennelikejennay · 4 months ago
Text
One thing that bugs me about the way Vulcans are usually depicted (with some lovely exceptions) is that their philosophy—logic, or the teachings of Surak, for short I'm just going to call it Surakianism—is very often shown as a bad thing. Either that, or Vulcans aren't following it at all.
Writing about religion (and I do think Surakianism is best approached as a religion*) is always fraught. Because generally as a writer, you don't actually practice the faith in question, so naturally you'll have an outside view. That's doubly true of Surakianism, a way of life humans basically can't follow and it would probably be bad for us to try.
[*I know they don't call it a religion. But the way it deeply affects the interior life of Vulcans, their ethics, and so on feels very religious to me. It doesn't seem to have a position on theism; Vulcans get their beliefs about god(s) from elsewhere, such as traditional Vulcan polytheism and their own perceptions of the universe. But the way it exists as a social structure AND a guide to the inner self is absolutely religious to me.]
Tumblr media
We are told that Vulcans developed this philosophy specifically because they needed it—they were destroying themselves without it! Their emotions were overpowering and violent, and they were clannish to the extreme. So despite what most of the human characters say, especially Bones, I think the path of logic is a good thing for Vulcans, even if humans don't get it at all.
Surak's teachings can be summed up into three basic points (a Vulcan somewhere just raised an eyebrow clear into their bangs at this oversimplification, but I'm doing my best here):
1. Logic, or the use of reason as a guide and the control of emotions
2. Nonviolence
3. IDIC—infinite diversity in infinite combinations.
Tumblr media
Of course we only ever hear about the first one, because that's part humans notice. I'd say it was like reducing Catholics to fish Fridays and Mormons to underwear, but that's exactly what people do, so I guess it's understandable.
But I think the ordering goes the other way for Vulcans. First, acknowledge that others are of value, including and especially when they're different from you. Then, do them no harm. And finally, to achieve that goal, control your wild, violent emotions.
People imagine pre-reform Vulcans a lot of ways (and I never get tired of reading about them), but I think the best guide as to what they're like is by looking at Romulans. Romulans aren't wildly expressive with their emotions, we're certainly not talking about people who would otherwise be laughing and crying constantly. Instead, they're secretive and carry long, hateful grudges. They're loyal only to those closest to them, and they seem entirely without empathy otherwise.
Imagine the Vulcan emotions are like that. They have strong bonds to their clan, probably in part because of their telepathy. They're suspicious of outsiders, angry, prone to violence. Preferring the familiar is an instinct in humans too, but a mild one. Certainly humans have been and still are racist, but it's something we can generally overcome. I'm not sure the Vulcans could, not by relying on their emotions.
So they came up with the solution to control their emotions completely. Use reason instead as a guide to behavior, because logic will tell you that your own clan is not more important than another, and that reaching out in peace is beneficial to yourself and others. Don't give your emotions any credence and don't let them run wild.
Humans do some of this ourselves, and should arguably be doing more. We spend a huge chunk of our childhood learning to control antisocial impulses like screaming, hitting, and biting. We demonstrate self control in many tiny, unnecessary ways, in order to show to others that we are in control of ourselves: stuff like etiquette, social rules, even just leaving the last cookie on the tray for someone else. These are signals that say I am not governed by my appetites; I can be trusted to consider the needs of others.
And we could obviously be doing more. Too many political questions are being answered by people's emotional, knee-jerk responses like "I feel threatened by people who are different" or "I am angry about my enemies and want them punished" instead of "what produces the most benefit for everyone?" If we leaned more heavily on logic and reason to get us our answers, we'd make way better decisions than we do. Star Trek doesn't often acknowledge that in real life, making a snap gut decision doesn't actually have a very high success rate. Logic gives you better odds of saving the day.
But, you might say, Vulcans aren't doing very well at any of this. A heck of a lot of them that we've seen are racist. And while they repress their emotions just great, they don't actually make the most logical decisions most of the time.
But I don't think this actually discredits a religion at all. We all know Christians who are great at the easy parts of their religion—learning Bible verses or saying rosaries—but don't seem to be even trying to love their neighbor. That's in fact the way religions are usually practiced! External elements that people can easily see (like never smiling) are adhered to by social pressure, but more heart-level things are aspirational at best. That doesn't mean the message of a religion is bad; it doesn't really tell us anything.
This is especially true for a religion whose practice isn't optional. You have to follow Surak to stay on the planet. I can see this rule was necessary during the time when the Romulans were kicked out—pacifism doesn't work as a global solution unless everybody's doing it. Now, it seems a bit harsh. I think they get around it by not exiling anybody who's at least giving lip service to logic. That racist baseball guy in DS9 isn't a good Vulcan, but as long as he doesn't do anything violent or openly reject Surak, they're willing to say he counts.
Why are Vulcans so often the opposite of what their religion teaches? I think it's the other way around: their religion focuses specifically on their chief faults: clannishness, racism, ego. It just hasn't successfully transformed everyone. Makes perfect sense, really. We might as well ask why Christianity goes on and on about sex when humans are well known to be super obsessed with sex. Well that's WHY! It's one of our strongest impulses which in the past we felt the most desperate need to control.
The best argument against Surakianism is that total repression isn't the best way to handle emotion, that we need self-awareness of our emotions before we can account for them.
To which all I can say is, don't you think Vulcans know that?
I imagine there are lots and lots of viewpoints on this among Vulcans. Some favor repression and some favor understanding and acceptance; some think it's okay to have a little dry humor and some think we should be serious. We have the kolinahri who believe in the excision of all emotion (which I imagine is universally seen as extreme, like we might see cloistered nuns or monks who reject the world to achieve enlightenment). And surely there are ancient, wise Vulcans who deeply understand all their emotional impulses and are completely in control of them. Spock certainly seems this way by the movie era if not before: he knows that he has emotions, what they are, and how to respond to them. He has overcome the emotion of shame. So he seems not impassive on the outside, but a person at complete peace inside and out.
I just feel like we could stand to see more good Surakians, who are good not in spite of their belief in logic, but because of it. Kind of like how we see both good and bad followers of the Prophets on Bajor. I'm kind of anti religion myself, but I still want to see it given its due—especially a religion founded on such good principles. Sure, it's not a religion humans can really practice, nor need—a good half of our emotions are positive and pro-social, so it's no wonder a person like Bones would be convinced Vulcans are just punishing themselves unnecessarily. But it successfully turned Vulcan from a planet so violent it almost destroyed itself to a home of peace and learning. Of course Vulcans aren't going to mess with what works!
That has been my rant about logic for today. I highly recommend @dduane 's book Spock's World for a much deeper dive into logic and the path Vulcan took to get there.
141 notes · View notes
makerofmadness · 3 months ago
Text
itai itai no SICK SICK - a Cookie Run fanfic
(I spent like two months writing this whole thing lol. If you're wondering how long this is: I hit the text block limit [it's 1,000 in one post btw] and lagged out the post editor and my phone started heating up)
Warning for Heavy Angst & Whump, Hurt/Comfort, as in "a crap ton of hurt but eventually things get better"
Inspired by the song ベノム by Kairiki Bear (title comes from the lyrics)
Starring: Alchemist Cookie ft. Vampire Cookie and others
(Note: some implied Sparkvamp. Doesn't really go any further than the games themselves, though, so I didn't think it was worth tagging as ship but thought it was worth warning for)
TW: Alcoholism (or whatever Vampire is), (Self-Inflicted) Poisoning, Self-Harm (Via Poisoning), Suicidal Themes, (Cookiefied) Hematemesis
(Please tell me if more should be added to the TW, I will update accordingly)
Tumblr media
Cover drawn by @driftwoodmfb (background by Nou/from the song's MV) and thanks to my friend @/sleep.starvedd from discord for the writing advice for one scene. And thanks to literally all my friends who read this before it was finished (@softichill @boom-fanfic-a-latta @organichotchoco and also @cosmoknightchaos who wasn't even in this fandom) couldn't have made it without ya.
(Story under the cut. Enjoy)
Grape juice.
She couldn't escape the smell of it within her home. Every day, every time she walked anywhere except for her room/lab, and especially any time she saw her own brother.
Alchemist Cookie's existence was less happy than it would've seemed from the outside, or than she really preferred to present it to others. And it all came down to one thing:
Vampire Cookie.
Embarrassing, was it not? How much he relied on her, his little sister, to keep him healthy, to keep the house tidy, to keep him together. He didn't ever take care of her, she wondered if he'd even notice if she were to ever fall sick and need taking care of, or if he'd just be happy to have that awful nagging away from him, as if she didn't nag with a purpose. 
As if he'd even have a long enough attention span to look after her. 
Ugh.
She shook the thought out of her head as she sat down at the table for dinner, alone. Vampire Cookie has gone out that night- he was always either at home or at Sparkling Cookie's juice bar, it was a struggle to get him to go anywhere else. She was half-considering calling Sparkling Cookie just to beg him to send her brother home, but she knew that would be unreasonable to ask of him like that.
Sparkling Cookie was nice. She liked Sparkling Cookie. He was kind to her; he showed her how to mix drinks once and she tried to apply that skill to her alchemy sometimes. She saw him too often. She somewhat resented him too. She would've resented him more if she hadn't met him.
It wasn't fun having to be called over so often, to pick her own brother up like that, to shoulder him home as he'd confusedly ramble about this and that, as he'd seem to have forgotten who she was...
It hurt. She felt sick just thinking about it.
It'd come back to him, it always did. He promised he always forgot everything from time to time like that, the times he'd forgotten his own name still scared her, but that he'd never really forget her.
She didn't believe it. One day he wouldn't see her every day, and then he wouldn't remember her when he sobered up. One day he'd be around and she wouldn't be. His lifespan would outlast hers. That was what little she really understood of his condition. And how she resented it.
She didn't really understand her brother and how he operated. She worried for his health as he seemed to only consume grape juice some days, and seemed bored or averse of normal sustenance. She tried everything in her power to get anything good into his diet, despite his resistance.
"I don't need that stuff, sis," he'd always tell her, "all I need is grape juice. That's what keeps me going."
She couldn't help but worry for him. He never seemed to worsen despite his diet being built on what should've been unstable grounds- the opposite was the case, actually: he was considered quite the strong and ethereally handsome Cookie by most. He was popular, he had many treasures, and nothing ever seemed to get to him. Everything was well with his life. "Cheers to a wonderful life!" He'd say sometimes.
Was she an afterthought, or did he just not see her distress?
As a Cookie, he was many things: Carelessfree. Unaffected by her pain. An immortal being who would outlive her.
Who would take care of him after that?
She had only ever talked about this to him once. And he told her she was "too young to start thinking about mortality." She was still what would be considered too young for that. But how could she not? Life was at alchemy's center, and her brother was an immortal vampire who would definitely outlive her.
And yet here she was, still trying to make him eat his vegetables because it was 'good for him' or make him go to check-ups with Dr. Bones Cookie because he was too lazy to bother going out that far for something without a promise of juice. He didn't need any of this. She really did know it deep down. But she kept doing it anyway.
She would never dare say it, but maybe deep down she just wanted to pretend he was normal.
...Her brother probably would've crumbled from juice overdose by now if he had been normal.
From that poison he sustained himself on.
But the alternative would've been...
She picked at her plate, having lost her appetite suddenly. She much preferred devoting as much time and energy as possible to shutting herself away in her lab, away from her brother and the grape juice smell that came off of his very dough, and endlessly researching and experimenting until he found his way in somehow and made her stop pushing herself so hard. Her life's work had been researching Life Potions. Her Life's work had been to extend her own lifespan
She got up from the table, leaving her plate untouched. Perhaps Vampire Cookie would just eat it for her. She knew he wouldn't bother. He didn't typically bother with normal Cookie meals, when he did it was either to please her, to participate with a group, to look normal at events, or for the flavor. He wouldn't be eating a random salad by himself.
...she decided to go over to the phone and make a call. To a number she had to have memorized by now:
"...hello? Sparkling Cookie? Yes, it's Alchemist Cookie, I was just wondering if my brother is going to come home soon... ... ...A party, huh? Well... Whatever. Just- If you don't mind me asking, could you, uh... cut him off sooner rather than later tonight...? I'm just- you see, I might be busy tonight, so I'd prefer it if he could come home by himself tonight, safely... ... ...Thank you. I knew you'd understand. Have a nice night."
She put the phone back on the wall and began walking away, but felt... hollow.
Of course he'd have gone to a party without telling her anything. It wasn't as if she'd be worried sick if he came home late...
Maybe he'd come home sooner if he couldn't have more, though...
Whatever. It didn't matter. He always had more lying around, anyway. In the cellar, or in his room, or in the kitchen, or wherever he could store it. He'd even tried to use her vials, more than once...
And then he'd just lie around and do nothing with her. They never really spent time together, it felt. Sometimes they'd go out and do things, social events and the like, but she craved something personal. Meaningful.
For their entire existence, had they ever really just hung out? One time, she had done a favor for Cherry Cookie, and said cookie had talked all about her plans that day with her sister, Cherry Blossom Cookie. Those two had been planning to go on a picnic together that day. And hearing about those plans, all Alchemist Cookie had thought was: Why didn't MY sibling do that with me...?
She sat down on the couch- and looking at the furniture she started to feel ashamed for not being happy. While she had specifically made sure that their home looked normal enough, it very obviously showed through that they had... more than average to spend, with how nice everything looked, shining and sparkling even within the dim lighting of most rooms.
She didn't know where he got it all from.
He didn't have to work, and she was more interested in her passions, and her working options were limited at her age anyway. No one made any money, really-
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and a voice shouting for her:
"ALCHEMIST COOKIE~!!"
Before she even had the opportunity to say a word or leave the room, a certain fanged Cookie slumped in. She could smell the grape juice saturating his dough. She suppressed a gag. That smell had gotten stronger than usual. She could even see a stain on his coat.
...she wasn't surprised.
"So- *hiccup* 'scuse me-" he plopped himself down next to her, while she just tried to stare off onto space. She had better things to occupy her mind with, things that her brother wasn't interested in in the slightest except for maybe that one time. She'd just escape into her mind while her body would stand in until he either had his fill of rambling to her about 'the wonders of taking breaks' or-
"Sparkling Cookie said you called him, eh...?"
Her jam ran cold. Even though he had no anger in his voice.
"..." she avoided looking at him, knowing that the best she could really say was the truth, "I-I just- you see... I was going to go work in my lab, but I... wasn't expecting you to be home this soon-"
"I mean, duh. No juice, no Vampire Cookie."
He didn't even stick around just to talk to his friends...?
"But, why's that the issue...?"
"..." Was he really that oblivious? "If you had too much, I would have to help you come home... but if I'm working, then I won't be at the phone, so I won't even know-"
"Oh, I see: You're worried about me, aren't ya?"
She was torn between two responses: 'Yes. All the time. Every day. And I don't know how much longer I can take it for.' And 'Worried that you'll try to come home yourself anyway and end up in some stupid or dangerous or stupidly dangerous situation, yes.'
Both went unsaid. Instead, just:
"Yes."
"Awww, you know what I always tell you, sis..."
Vampire Cookie leaned into his sister, affectionately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to him. The warmth and love of a familial embrace could no longer reach her.
"Don't worry about everything so much! It'd do you wonders to-"
"How can I not?? I never asked to have to look after my big brother, just because HE can't put down the STUPID JUICE GLASS-"
She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. That wasn't supposed to come out.
"..."
"...I-I'm going to my lab."
She got up with her brother's arm giving away from her surprisingly easily, given that he was usually slightly stronger than average, and walked away without looking back. 
She didn't even see the look on his face. But she could care less.
Tumblr media
Alchemist Cookie just walked away, practically without thought, her legs carrying her all the way to the door to her lab. As she entered and shut it behind her, however, she suddenly lost her will to carry on.
...
Oh. Her eyes had sprung a leak. Embarrassing.
Tumblr media
Alone, nothing and no one to grant her solace, something dark within her mind that had been brewing for a long time began to concoct an idea out of festered, fermented emotions:
If he was going to nourish himself on poison every day, she thought:
Two could play at that game.
Tumblr media
It took about a week to gather the ingredients. In that time, somewhere deep down, she had been hoping that something would happen to change her mind. It was a decent amount of time, she thought, looking at the grand scheme of her pathetically short existence. 
But nothing did. In fact, she only had her current thoughts affirmed.
Not by any change, but by a lack thereof: by stagnation. 
By that stagnant grape juice her life had been drowned by.
She couldn't even really focus on or enjoy her work anymore because whenever she tried to get 'in the zone,' her thoughts would always go back to her brother.
One day, which she had spent almost entirely in her lab, her brother came home from the bar- not by himself, but being shouldered by his acquaintance Cinnamon Cookie- who interrupted her planning just to inform her that her brother was home. The nerve of that Cookie. (...she had to have gotten a call, right? She didn't leave her lab the whole day, so...)
"*sigh* How much did Vampire Cookie drink...?"
"...uh- N-nobody knows..."
"...ugh. Whatever."
No one ever kept track.
Days went by and her brother was none-the-wiser to what she was planning. Despite all the time he spent at home...
She had a hard time keeping him out of her room, though. She couldn't lock the door to her lab, so he'd always get in. But her reagent-gathering was sporadic and unplanned, she had nothing written down...
Then came the day she finally decided that she was ready.
This would be the perfect concoction. Acridly flavored. She was turning it into an experimental melting pot, a pot of completely random reagents. Not really. She was very much aiming for the most toxic ingredients she had as she grabbed them from around the room. With the test subject being herself. 
By the end, once she'd had enough of tossing things in the pot, she watched the final color end up as a vivid pink. The mixture had bubbled and fizzed during the mixing process, but now it was... completely still.
Deathly still.
It was almost tranquil, the way it sat. She stared at it for a moment, before scooping some of it into an empty flask she had laying around.
She swished it around a little, staring blankly. Nothing changed about it.
Whatever this nocuous cocktail would do, it wouldn't be anything good for her...
She knew this would be it. This would show him. He'd finally understand. This would teach him a lesson.
She wanted to -------
She slowly took the flask up to her lips.
Bottoms up.
Tumblr media
Immediately she felt it burn as it rushed down her throat.
It hurt. It tasted foul. She made sure to get down every last drop, swallowing a steady stream of death-
Something inside her told her to spit it out. But she was set, she refused to go back: She would show him. 
Once she'd gulped it all down, she put the flask down on her work table. Already she could feel the effects: A stomachache was setting in, she felt incredibly nauseous and dizzy, a pain began to burn her chest from the inside, her eyes began to spill water and something buried within her once-logical mind was still yelling at her SPIT IT OUT-
But she couldn't. It was far too late for that.
There was no going back.
~~~
She staggered out of her room with an aching sensation filling every inch of her dough. Her head especially was beginning to throb with pain- but really, her entire body was in general agony.
Her head was spinning, to the point she was starting to see double, and this combined with the sudden shortness of her breath that she couldn't tell if it was just her panicking or if it had been yet another effect of her concoction made walking to the living room take...
She didn't know how long.
The numbers on the clock, she couldn't read them anymore. She couldn't recognize them. She couldn't process any of them. 
Her head hurt even more trying to do so.
But she eventually found her way in, and, after further difficulty bumping into the furniture, finally managed to sit herself down.
She lay back on the sofa, but even cessation of action did nothing to make breathing an easier task. She could feel her heart beating in her head chest. It was speaking over her reason. Shouting over it.
'Why even bother sitting out here? You know he's not going to notice. Even if he does, he won't be concerned. Get to work; Be productive with your time at least...'
She shook any thought from her mind the moment her brother came into the room. She felt too weak to even spend the energy talking to him, she wasn't even sure if she would be able to get a coherent word out anyway, but surely he'd at least ask how she was doing. And then when she didn't answer, he'd look at her, and then he'd notice something was wrong-
But he just walked on by.
He said something, but she couldn't focus on the words. And it didn't change the fact that he just left the room anyway.
(Maybe it sounded like "Love ya, sis" but she couldn't tell. She wouldn't have believed it, anyway.)
That woefully familiar miasma of grape juice hit her senses, worsening that already overwhelming nausea of hers. Stronger than ever. Or was it the same as usual...? Everything just felt worse like this...
'...what a joke. He just walked right past you. He probably didn't even realize you're here. He probably forgot you again.'
The leaks were back, gushing, overflowing- and she didn't have the energy to fix them. Agonizing all alone, with this toxin eating away at her system...
If it didn't crumble her tonight, she'd try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And over and over again until he finally noticed that something was wrong...
She slept unrestfully that night, and even though the effects of the concoction had mostly subsided by the afternoon when she woke up, she still felt tired.
She planned her routine out from there: Every day, once she woke up (frustratingly, it was already difficult to keep to her usual schedule), she would immediately take a drink of the poison before she even went to eat breakfast. She'd then just let the day play out as she rapidly grew ill, and see if her brother ever asked about her health.
He didn't ask her. One day, two days, three days- she seldom spoke to him, as he'd be either in his room lazing around or indulging in the one thing he cared about in the world, or at Sparkling Cookie's- and she was just exuberant to see the look on his and Vampire Cookie's faces the inevitable day she'd come in to do her usual 'nag-and-drag' routine and at best not even have the physical strength to get her brother off the floor and at worst-
'You could crumble right in front of him and he wouldn't say a thing. He doesn't care about you. He's NEVER cared about you.'
She didn't care anymore.  That night, though- her brother staggered home with his arm over another Cookie's shoulder again. This time, however, it was Sparkling Cookie himself who accompanied the drunken Cookie through the door.
She didn't know this until the two of them walked into the living room, where she was leaning over the left side of the couch trying not to pass out from exhaustion.
"Oh. Well, hello there, Alchemist Cookie!" Sparkling Cookie smiled at her with a warmth that she couldn't feel.
"He-ey, lil sis! *hic*" Vampire Cookie gave a loose, lazy wave. "How ya doin???"
Alchemist Cookie didn't want to speak to either of them. Tiredness was the bulk of the reason, she really hadn't vocalized much at all in the past few days since her experiment had begun, but really what could she have said to either of these Cookies?
Sparkling Cookie. The Cookie that ran the juice bar. The Cookie that called her on the phone at bare minimum three times per week just to pick her brother up from said juice bar. The Cookie who did nothing but serve that disgusting, baneful juice. 
She really resented Sparkling Cookie.
And her brother... 
Immediately flopped himself next to her, as close as possible, forcing her to take in that grossly prominent grape juice smell, as if it weren't hard enough to breathe already. And lovingly, he started clinging to her side by the arm, practically leaning all of his weight into her as if he hadn't been a heavy enough burden-
His body was as cold as always. She knew to expect that from him. She was always prepared to feel that. And normally the physical cold was easy to ignore thanks to the emotional warmth. But she just couldn't feel that anymore...
She was so, so cold.
"Alchemist Cookie? You're shivering... are you alright?" Sparkling Cookie looked at her carefully and with concern, coming closer to her. She couldn't get up. "You look... unwell..."
...
She tried to say something, but all she could get out were wheezing breaths and a hacking cough she couldn't cover up.
Sparkling Cookie put his hand to her forehead. She didn't have the energy to get it away.
"Hmmm... you're not burning up, but you sure look sick. And you sound sick, too..."
"Yeeeeaaaahhhh... ya look kinda funny..."
Her brother's face was practically pressed into hers as his spacey eyes made direct contact with hersand she hoped he would notice how they had dulled to lifelessness by now as she turned her head too, and even just that caused her a splitting headache that she did her best to ignore because she wasn't going to let Sparkling Cookie see that.
"...eh, doesn't look like much. Looks like Alchemist Cookie like always. *hiccup* You're fiiiiiiine~ It's whateeeeeeever~"
He didn't notice. He didn't care.
Sparkling Cookie sighed and pried Vampire Cookie from her, gently but still causing her pain yet again. Vampire Cookie just leaned to the other side of the couch, oblivious just as he always was.
"Don't be a buzzkill, Sparkling Cookie!! *hiccup* I was all nice and comfy right there... Can't a Cookie just give his lil sis a hug in peace?? What's this world come to... *sigh*"
The look on Sparkling Cookie's face seemed disappointed but unsurprised before his attention shifted back to Alchemist Cookie:
"Thank goodness it was a slow day at the bar tonight. There's no way Vampire Cookie would be able to take care of you like this..."
If he was implying what she thought he was implying, then she wished she could just get up and run away, but she knew the air would leave her faster than it could get to her.
She didn't want him hanging around her house. Her brother had enough access to grape juice already. She wasn't going to let him have the idea of bringing bar nights into their house. She already couldn't escape them normally.
She just barely scraped together enough energy to shake her head, weakly. She tried to get up, now that her brother was off of her and couldn't weigh her down.
The dizziness set in immediately as she could barely find balance in her feet, waving her arms around trying to find a support-
Sparkling Cookie's hands approached to help stabilize her, but she slapped them away before they could make contact. Purposefully.
"A-Alchemist Cookie, let me help you to your room, please. You're clearly too weak to stand on your own..."
As she tottered towards the wall to lean against it, she glared back at him and tried to mouth her answer: 
I want you gone.
She knew he could lip-read decently enough. She knew the way she mouthed it was obvious enough.
She didn't care.
She saw his feelings on his face. In his eyes. The shock, confusion, worry. Hurt. She didn't feel bad. Not for the barkeep that drove her and her brother only further apart. Maybe a little, for the mixologist that'd always bring out some set of old alchemy textbooks from the back when she needed to hang around, that she'd practically had memorized from the amount of times she'd read them all front to back. She turned away before staggering over to the hallway. 
"G'nighty night, sis~, don't *hic* don't let the... what's the sayin again? Whatever, sweet dreams..."
She turned in early that night. She didn't have anything better to do anyway. She couldn't do anything else like this. She couldn't do alchemy anymore. But she didn't care.
She was beginning to accept the struggle to sit up or even just to open her eyes in the morning, the way her vision would still be so blurry and unfocused even after putting her glasses on that she wasn't certain they were even on her face, the lingering aches and pains that hung over every moment...
"...Alchemist Cookie...? Alchemist Cookie!"
This wasn't part of the routine.
She had been sitting there at the edge of her bed for who-knows-how-long likely a minute before she realized a voice she knew all too well was inside her room.
Vampire Cookie.
She looked over to see him leaning with his back to the side of her cauldron pot, holding one of her vials.
She just barely mustered the words with airy breaths in-between: "Wh-what are... you doing... up... this ear...ly!?" 
"Uhhh... first of all, it's 4 in the afternoon." He walked to her as she sulked in place without energy to move. "Second of all, Sparkling Cookie told me that last night, he noticed you were feeling... more than a little under-the-weather. So I came in here to check on you, and I saw... whatever that is."
He pointed over to the cauldron. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Well, I looked at it and thought that maybe you'd finally made more of that wonderful pink juice that you'd kept insisting was 'just an accident' and 'you didn't have the recipe for.' So, I couldn't help but have a little drink..."
Ah, yes, the 'Pink Juice Incident.' The one that had dyed most of the kingdom pink with love. She had been so confused that night when both her brother and Sparkling Cookie came and started thanking her profusely for "that delicious rosé juice" and "the boost in business for the day." That was the first time Sparkling Cookie had ever been over at their home. (And she wished the two of them could've been a little less... excessively romantic.)
...but her brother had been so sweet that night. When he wasn't rambling on and on about how debonair Sparkling Cookie looked in pink, he was giving her a pat on the head or saying about five times total "cheers to my brilliant sister and her alchemy!" despite no one else raising a glass with him, and she'd felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside...
It almost made her wish, in some deep selfish recess of her mind, that she could make it again. Just so he would praise her some more. She craved that validation.
...but she couldn't. And even if she could, she wouldn't. She couldn't poison him like that just for her own needs.
Wait...
He drank the poison...? He drank her concoction!?
The look on his face changed from pleasant reminiscence to light disgust.
"But that stuff tastes awful...! What did you even put in there?"
...of course he wouldn't be affected. Her potions never worked on him. Even when she wanted them to.The 'Pink Juice' affecting him was only a result of how haphazard that entire concoction had been.
She had once sought out to transmute her brother alchemically, to create some kind of potion that could eliminate that listless juice addiction of his. And yet none of them ever worked on anything but a normal Cookie.
There was that one time his personality seemingly inverted out of nowhere, where he started dressing and acting like her for a few days and even researching alchemy (...seemingly), that she never got an explanation for, until she came up with a potion to put him back to normal...
No. She knew her potions wouldn't have suddenly started working on him. She made all her concoctions with the reference of how to affect a normal Cookie, all the way down to composition. He wasn't normal. She had a whole pile of failed attempts at a working Flavor Reversal Potion by the end of her prior experiments in futility, after all. And she used them as the basis for the cure.
...in which case, she certainly couldn't have 'fixed him' by the end of it when he encroached on her field, so how did he return to normal...?
...
Had he really just been messing with her the whole time...?
She'd somewhat started to appreciate him more after that incident. At least, she realized her problem with him was less about him and more...
Whatever. She didn't care anymore. "No juice, no Vampire Cookie," in his own words.
She tried to get up to her feet- and immediately she envied her brother's ability to levitate as the pain shot up through her legs.
"OW!!"
"Alchemist Cookie??" 
"You... you drank my... my poi- my potion...!?"
"Yeah. So?"
"...grrrr..." she didn't look at him, but felt a sudden burst of... not as much as strength as it was anger,and yet it still wasn't enough to give her hands the strength for fists, "why... why can't you... why can't you just control yourself for once!?"
It could hardly be called a shout, but she couldn't do that anymore. 
But she could spit venom just fine.
"...sis, what do you-"
"It's always drink this, drink that...!! All for you, you, YOU...!!!" She pushed him to the side and dragged her legs over to her prized pot. Looking into it, it didn't seem to have had much taken out of it, and yet she still felt furious that he had taken what was hers. As she turned back around and made sure to make direct eye contact, further infuriated by the confusion that met her, she put on a sarcastic tone and gestured sloppily as she mimicked her brother's voice: "Can't you make some juice with your alchemy?' this and 'Can you stop bothering me about alchemy when I'm trying to enjoy my juice?" that *pant*... and then you have the gall, to come into my room, and try to just drink anything that wasn't meant for you... and when it's not that, you're looking through my research notes, to see if they have anything about juice... because THAT'S ALL YOU EVER CARE ABOUT-"
Unable to keep up with her own shouting, she suddenly entered a violent coughing fit. She couldn't breathe. Vampire Cookie looked a mix of horrified and... mortified.
She had to support herself on the side of the cauldron to prevent herself from keeling over, with how light-headed she was getting. She'd started spitting venom, but she felt as if she were going to start spitting jam.
As soon as she could get a breath back in, as she saw that fanged Cookie take just a few quivering steps toward her with a face of remorseful shock, she shot a glare in his direction and finally gasped out:
"Why, does everything, have to be, about you...!? You... about your juice... is that... all I'm good for, to you...? Making juice, for you...? Taking care, of you...?? Catering, to you...!?!"
"..." Her brother stood frozen by her cold words. "...A-Alchemist Cookie, you know that's not true, you're not-"
"It's always, juice for you, juice for you..." As she gazed fondly into the contents of the cauldron, her mouth formed a twisted, broken facade of a smile: "But this, is for ME... this... makes me... feel better..."
It was funny to her, almost. The purpose of this entire experiment had once been to make her brother see what he was doing to her himself. Nourishing himself on that poison of his every day. 
That crimson venom dripping from his fangs as he bit into her life.
But she didn't care anymore. She wasn't doing this for him anymore.
She had long lost her original intent.
But really, her intentions now had always been there, lurking deep down within the darkest crevices of her mind. Just waiting to bubble to the surface.
Her routine poisonings had begun to feel almost comforting to her, in some form. Because at the very least, it was something she had control over. She could control her own degradation except she knew it was progressing at an uncontrolled rate. She was doing this to herself. No one else was. She took a sense of pride in that, a sense of power, a sense of control.
Control. She needed control. She couldn't control her own mortality, she couldn't control her brother and his behavior. This pernicious potion was the only way to control anything, she thought...
So what if her health was deteriorating? She had every right to make it deteriorate.
This wasn't right
"(Feel better...?) Is it... a cure or something...?"
The inquiry snapped her out of her blissful thought, but she didn't look at him. She just thought:
He was right about that one thing: That this was, to her, more nostrum than noxious in the grand scheme of things.
She'd prescribed it herself to her own heart, the one true remedy for its malaise: Her own personal, hand-crafted, home-brewed panacea. 
This would make everything better.
And so, she answered accordingly:
"Yes..."
"(...well, guess I shouldn't be surprised about medicine tasting bad...) Sis... I-"
"Sh-Shut up..."
Her head snapped to look at him and it hurt so much to make such a sudden movement, and she ignored the guilt that had been shining in his eyes and glared as she panted out:
"Get out... of my room... I'm done, talking... and, give me back, my vial, now...! *gasp* And then get out...!!"
She held out her hand. She would've pointed to the door with the other if she could trust her legs to keep themselves standing on their own, without propping herself up still. Vampire Cookie looked at her dejectedly before making his way toward the door, handing her the vial as he walked past but otherwise not stopping to look back...
Until he was at the door.
Just before he left through it, just before he could give her privacy, he looked back at her and said:
"...Could... could you at least... air out the room a little...? I-I just noticed that it's a little... I don't know, mephitic in here...? And you know I'll be able to smell this from-"
"Out...!!
"(...I-I'm sorry...)"
He shut the door, leaving her alone to her own devices in her ill-lit, shadow-casted room where the curtains hadn't been touched in days. She sighed.
'Finally. Almost thought he'd never go away...'
Now there was nothing keeping her from her precious elixir of death life... so-to-speak. 
She didn't want to miss a dose. She rationalized it in her head, one should never skip even just a day's dose of their medication, after all. It just wasn't healthy...
She was really becoming an addict of her own. Addicted to her own misery. Pushing away, hitting away even the very idea of relief. She didn't even do anything of worth anymore, passing through life devoid of passion, of her passion- once she had dreamed of making great discoveries, but now what knowledge could be held in a mind too tired to think...? She reminded herself so much of her brother: Drinking, doing nothing, and decaying in her room; Dozing off in dreamless sleep and waiting for her doom; Hardly ever leaving, barely living in this tomb.
What a miserable creature she was. Maybe she deserved this anyway.
Bottoms up.
Tumblr media
Over the next few days, she'd stopped keeping at some point. Of how long it had been since she'd started her slow march toward the end experiment. The days were all congealing into a mass of constant fatigue languor, not helped by her now inconsistent sleep schedule... most of her schedule was 'sleep' now, really, or a state between sleep and awake that she couldn't tell the difference between anymore because she just couldn't do anything else and even thinking was becoming too much of an energy sink sometimes.
She didn't even really have the energy to make her meals anymore. Sometimes she was too queasy to stomach anything. Sometimes she struggled to leave her room in the first place. The times she had done so, when the hunger got too much to bear, she'd noticed that her brother had started waiting around the kitchen more. Sitting at the table sometimes, trying to coax her into joining. "Are you going to keep me waiting for lunch?" or "Don't you think a sandwich would be nice right about now...?" ...he wasn't very subtle.
...one time he got desperate enough to try cooking something. It wasn't very good, he really had no idea how to prepare a salad if burning it was ever a possibility and especially in the way he did it, but...
The only thing she could easily put down was that burning potion of hers. But she was finding the simple act of swallowing to become more and more difficult thanks to the sheer pain of everything in her body.
And it was just another late afternoon, who-knows-how-long after this had all began, after her heart had crumbled and fallen apart, and she was about to take her potion again. Up to her mouth, running down her throat...
But she had to spit it out halfway through because she couldn't swallow it.
"ACK!!"
Something was wrong. More wrong than ever before.
It hurt.
It hurt.
She'd never felt more SICK.
She started coughing, forcefully, oxygen making its escape. Her body was trying to expel something.There was something in her that needed to get out.
And it came out.
Onto the floor and her hands as she dropped her flask, causing it to shatter there with the mess of...
Tumblr media
Strawberry jam.
Nausea, pain, vertigo- everything was making her head spin, the room was spinning all around her, her vision was doubling, tripling in an instant and she could hardly keep her balance on her feet, her head was growing light and yet it was still heavy with soreness, everything was in pain-
She fell over onto her back. The lights above her looked all the brighter and stung her eyes. She could hardly keep them open; she didn't want to. She was beginning to fade in and out of conscious, anyway. Her consciousness was beginning to fade in and out of being, anyway.
This was it. The culmination of her experiment: A date alone with death, with toxins flowing through her.
Her crumbled body would lie alone within her room, not to be found for days. Weeks. Months. YEARS.
...
She was full of fear. 
Those leaky eyes of her wouldn't stop, not when this wasn't what she had really wanted, deep down in the crumbled pieces of her heart, though she had long stopped admitting it to herself.
The one thing she'd wanted, needed, was...
Something she'd never get to see herself have, if she were to crumble now.
But she had no way to control the outcome of this. She never had. That cocktail of death had been dooming her every day she drank it. There was no going back.
'This is goodbye...'
~~~
"...Al...mi...C..ki....?... 
(Why did this have to be such a slow process...? Why hadn't she crumbled yet? Was there something keeping her alive, some force of will? Was that really powerful enough to keep her from the brink...?)
(...she didn't want to crumble, but she had gone too far to save herself. And no one else was there to save her. Now she was stuck in a slow atrophy from the inside-out. 
She could feel her insides crumbling. 
Jam and leftover poison still oozed from her mouth, dripping down her face- and within her mouth just tasted so odiously foul and yet she couldn't spit any of it out. Her eyes could hardly keep open. She was just about to let them close, finally, to plug up that incessant leakage, even if she feared she may never open them again...)
"ALCHEMIST COOKIE?!!"
(Wait...)
(There was a voice, and footsteps that, even with the ringing in her ears, were close enough to make out, and they sounded far too fast for any normal Cookie to be running at...
She knew a Cookie who wasn't normal.
"Alchemist Cookie!? ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!! WAKE UP, PLEASE!!!!!!!"
She just barely opened her eyes again as the ringing cleared to find the face of a Cookie staring down at her, that had gotten down next to her on the floor, that, even though her vision was blurry, she could make out had crimson hair and deep purple eyes...
Vampire Cookie...? 
"Alchemist Cookie!?!?! What on Earthbread happened to you...!?!"
(He... found her. He actually found her. That shouldn't have happened, and yet...)
"..." She was scared to even try speaking. It'd be a waste of what little breath she had, anyway. It wasn't as if he'd ever listen to her, right?
...could she even speak? Could she even breathe? Was she even still...
No. No, the agony was undeniable. It said everything without words. Even if her body had broken down, even if it wouldn't work as she wished, she was very much still in it.
"...N-nevermind, you can tell me later. J-just- just relax, okay?? Just stay... calm..."
He got up and ran away- and while she couldn't get up to watch him leave, she was already feeling no less than sheer despondency. It wasn't disappointment, no- that would imply she had expected better of him, that she had had any hope left in her that he wouldn't just tell her to 'chill out' like he always did and then abandon her there to break down in desolation-
She never heard the door close.
She was ready to let the darkness take over her field of view again. She didn't hear the footsteps returning...
But she heard the sound of wings flapping towards her.
Looking as far towards the door as she could in her position, with her blurring vision she could make out some small, round blob of red flying in through the door and stopping right beside her- and in a sudden 'poof' of smoke, what was left was the taller figure of her big brother.
He came back
?
"Help is on the way, sis...! We just have to... wait right here, not move... and I'll be right by your side, I promise..."
(...oh. She didn't have a phone in her room, did she...? He had... called for help...?)
He knelt down next to her and rested his hand on her forehead. Cold to the touch, as always. But something about it was... soothing, to the slightest extent. Maybe it was because of how much she had been burning up on the inside. Maybe it was just the feeling of care that she felt within those eyes that were finally looking at her with clarity.
(...just for once, she felt grateful she didn't have a lock on her door. That she hadn't been able to shut him out. Just this once. Otherwise, she would have...)
"...Alchemist Cookie... what even happened to you, sis...? D-did the medicine you make not work? (I should've known it wasn't working, why didn't I...) What kind of sickness do you even have??"
"..." She didn't know whether or not to tell him what she had really been doing at this point. Two parts of her were conflicting, fighting for dominance over her crumbled heart: One of them held her original intentions, the other held those that had been more latent. Neither of them really felt like 'her.'
"...you know what, I'll just... leave that to Dr. Bones Cookie to figure out. That's their problem, not yours. You probably... don't even know, do you...?"
She did know. She knew what she was sick with.
She knew what made her sick.
She would've been able to tell him right now, in perfect detail, if she could just speak, she thought.
(Wait... who did he say...? She had to have misheard that, he was way too lazy to go through that much trouble...)
"(...that look in your eyes...)" He sounded confused and... guilty. Since when did he feel guilty...? (...there was that one time...) "But..."
She couldn't tell if he was shocked or in shock, but whatever it was, it left him silent for a few seconds before he said, with an uncharacteristically perturbed voice:
"A-anyway, I'm just... lucky I could smell... all of this from my room, otherwise, uh... (Heh, maybe it's a good thing you didn't open the window when I asked you to, right...? Haha...)"
(Sometimes she forgot how good his senses were... when they weren't being fogged by his favorite intoxicant. Actually, maybe that was why she had forgotten: Because they were always too numbed to function to the fullest...)
...the one thing she could clearly see was the discomfort he was trying and failing to hide, trying to keep his eyes on her and away from the red, sticky, sweet substance spread on the floor...
Unfortunately, it was also on her- splattered on her dress and body, seeping into the undersides from where she had fallen into this red, disgusting mess, and there was still some left over around her mouth that she was unable to wipe off. 
She knew her brother could sometimes get a little squeamish- it only ever showed, really, when he was 'low on juice,' though. He didn't have the capacity for any such feeling otherwise, she thought. 
...he did tend to drink more after physical exertion, though...
She saw a mild burgundy glow coming from where she knew his eyes to be
"I'm... starting to wish I didn't take Sparkling Cookie's advice right about now..." His stomach growled like some kind of animal. What did he mean by that...? "Uh... (good thing I don't like jam as much as juice, otherwise I would've... n-no, no need to think about that...) Rushing around sure works up a thirst, huh? Let's just, hope they... get here, in time..."
("like jam")
(...the alternative...)
...
Seconds passed, maybe a minute, and the two of them just stayed together in silence. It felt like an eternity. What was taking so long...?
...
Alchemist Cookie's body was so ridden with toxin at this point, she didn't know if she even had enough time to wait for them. It was so unfair. Why did she have to change her mind? Why did she have to feel so conflicted? She didn't understand herself. She didn't understand anything. 
...
"...V...Vam...pire... C-C-Coo...kie...?"
The words fought to escape her throat. Vampire Cookie immediately snapped to full focus:
"Wh-What is it, sis...??"
"...A...am, I... g...gon-gonna..."
She gasped for air as she tried to communicate. It was taking so much of her breath. She hadn't spoken in so long, too, that she wondered if her difficulty forming the words was because of her fatigued and deteriorating condition or if she just didn't know how to anymore, if that were even possible.
But with her brother's full concern attention, she choked out the final words as those annoying leaks in her eyes outflowed, for what she knew could be the final time they ever would:
"...crum...ble...?"
Why was she even asking him this?
Why was she even asking him this...?
..why did she want to hear what he had to say...? To a question that was surely unanswerable for him?
...
Was it just to see how he'd react...?
(...just to see if he'd react...?)
His eyes widened as soon as the words escaped her mouth.
"N-NO, NO!!! I-I mean, no!! Don't- That'll never happen, I won't let it...!" She could just make out the white of his fangs... as he was giving her some attempt at a comforting smile, even if she could tell despite the fading of her sight that it was faltering. "Don't even think about that, sis!! J-j-just- just relax, like I said, and everything will be fine... you hear me? You'll be fine, you'll be a-okay, please, I- I won't let anything happen to you, just... just hang in there, I... I..."
She felt a few drops of something slowly drip onto her face. That facsimile smile came to grief.  
"...I-I don't know, if I can do anything... Please, just, hang on... I can't lose you, sis..."
He was...
He was crying.
His voice was breaking up as he desperately sobbed out his pleas: "D-don't make me lose you like this, sis, not like this, not this early... p-p-please, you have to hang on, just hang on... you- you know I really- you know I love you, y'know..."
Tumblr media
I love you
Hearing those words, she finally felt a wave of peace wash over her, gently lighting up the darkness that had veiled her world of hurt all this time.
All this time, those were the words she had been crumbling to hear. The words she had wanted, needed to hear.
The words her body was currently breaking down over.
She was beginning to wonder if it really had to come to this just to hear them.
The exhaustion had finally worn down on her too far to persevere. Her muddied eyes so dull and lifeless were coming to a close.
"A-Alchemist Cookie!?!?!?! N-No, stay with me, STAY WITH ME!!!! ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!!!"
Tumblr media
Her hearing was fading away, and the last thing she heard was:
"...I need to go make another call, or three..."
Tumblr media
"...when is she going to wake up?? IS she going to wake up!?!"
"S-slow down, slow down!! I'm doing everything I can!!"
Alchemist Cookie's eyes just barely cracked open. It was so... bright. 
Was she...?
...she was lying in a bed, under the covers- she could recognize that feeling. She wasn't wearing her usual clothes, either- she couldn't feel those. And the smell of the room was very... antiseptic. And... like ice cream...?
She was still in pain, she was still sick, but it felt... less so than before. 
(...she could hear a beeping sound...)
Her head felt lighter, but not light-headed. More so, as if a weight had been taken off... 
Her hat was gone.
She was...
...finally beginning to see clearly...
It was so brightly lit, the entire room. Bright and clean, white and lighter blues all over the room... 
After a few blinks, she began to make out her surroundings in more detail: There was a sink in one corner, a chair and a table in the other. Looking down without moving her head she saw she was... definitely in a bed, just as she'd felt. With calming blue covers pulled up to her waist.
...She was wearing some kind of pale blue outfit with darker dots. She couldn't feel much covering her arms beyond the shoulders.
Finally budging her head just slightly to the left, ignoring the aching that still followed her head's movement (yet it still somehow still felt less than how much it had hurt to move before), she saw her arm lying out to the side, and...
There was... an IV tube, hooked up to...
Some kind of... heart-shaped plastic bag...? A bag full of... red, on some kind of white and cyan-striped stand, hooked on by... bones?
She heard the beeping coming from next to the head of her bed, out of her field of view, but she could tell what it sounded like. (She wasn't sure if it sounded... right or not... She wouldn't be surprised.)
There was only one place this could be:
Dr. Bones Cookie's clinic... which was more like a fun-sized hospital, really. It was located at the opposite corner of the kingdom as her and her brother's home (Dr. Bones Cookie had expressed their wishes to have it built more toward the center of the kingdom when they moved in, but there wasn't any room.)
And looking to her right, she saw her brother and the doctor themself chatting away... closer to 'frantic bickering' than 'chatting.'
"C'mon, Doc, just tell me she's going to be okay, tell me she'll wake up-"
"H-hold on!! I'm a doctor, not a miracle-worker! And, to be frank, a miracle's the exact kind of thing we need right now..."
They looked down at their clipboard as her brother crossed his arms, seeming uncharacteristically on-edge. The doctor looked over in her direction, and...
"...Oh, my. Well, we officially have a miracle on our hands...!"
Vampire Cookie turned over towards her, locking eyes with her, and gasped.
Alchemist Cookie could immediately see her brother's dark eyes light up with emotion like a moonlit night sky through a window, despite the bags under his eyes that she never would have imagined him with (at least his eyes were their normal hue). His mouth grew into a smile so visibly brimming with... elation and relief. He didn't seem to be able to hold back:
"ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!"
Vampire Cookie transformed in a poof and flew right at her, rattling the poor doctor's bones.
"C-CAREFUL!!" Dr. Bones Cookie cried. "Bats are known for spreading diseases, you know...!!"
Her brother ignored them and landed next to her head with maybe a little too much impact (but it didn't hurt more than she could ignore), immediately snuggling into her. That round, red juice bat with pointed ears and sleepy eyes- his body was as cool as ever, even in this form...
And yet it was just barely warm enough that she almost smiled. Almost.
"You're okay! You're actually okay....!"
"...I'm... here...?"
Dr. Bones Cookie grabbed her brother by the wing, lifting him up and away from her. Standing right next to the side of the bed, they held the bat up to their eye socket level, squinting at him with an annoyed look.
"Be careful!!" they warned.
"Well, sorry..." Vampire Cookie said sarcastically before poofing back into his usual form, which visibly startled the poor doctor. "But my dear sister almost crumbled..." he continued, and shrugged, "can't I celebrate that that didn't happen...?"
The doctor pointed at him with their pen and said: "A-as long as you don't touch her until I'm certain her condition is stable!! Do you even realize how brittle her dough was back there!? I'm surprised she didn't crumble before-"
"Okay, okay!! *sigh* I'll just, stand here, just... let me talk to her for a second, okay...?"
"..." They said nothing, but backed up slightly, nodded their head, and motioned as if to say go ahead before turning away to look at their clipboard papers. Probably something to do with her.
Alchemist Cookie looked at her brother, and he looked at her- eye to eye in complete reticence, and the uncertainty hanging in the air applied pressure, for someone to make the first move. She couldn't move her limbs, and her mouth tasted bittersweet. She just lay there, trying to communicate with her eyes to just go on and say it- whatever it was he had to say.
Her brother's expression became more somber as he finally shattered that tension looming between the two of them:
"Sis... why did you do it?"
"...?"
"Why did you..." the words came out of his mouth with an unsteady, shrinking tone: "poison... yourself?"
...it wasn't possible. He'd thought it was medicine. She'd told him it was medicine.
"...you... know...?"
"..."
The two of them just stared at each other, in seconds on end of uncomfortable eye contact and silence except in the midst of it she could hear Vampire Cookie mumble under his breath, something like "where did that spark in your eyes go...?" (and... she didn't know how to answer.)
"...Sparkling Cookie saw some... things around your room... put two and two together."
"...?" Sparkling Cookie had been there...? When??
Seeming to read her confusion, he went on: 
"...I... called him, Herb Cookie and Mint Choco Cookie over when you passed out... I-I didn't know what else to do, they know more about that 'healing' stuff than I do..."
(...That was how she made it, wasn't it...?)
"...T-turns out, Sparkling Cookie couldn't really do anything for you since you were... not awake, you know. Can't give a drink to an unconscious Cookie and all..."
She was glad he didn't get to. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach... 
(How was her stomach faring...?)
"So, he ended up, uh, looking around your room, 'cause we didn't, uh, kn-know what happened, and, uh... yeah."
He seemed... increasingly unsettled the more he recounted. She had a feeling she knew why.
"...He... said he recognized some of the things you had in there from what he read in some books. I think he meant the books he keeps checking out of the library for ya, 'cause he... said you absolutelywould have known, what those things would do to you, s-s-so..."
 "..."
She didn't really know what to say to him. She hadn't planned for anyone to recognize her reagents and their uses... or lack thereof. She didn't have an excuse planned. 
Vampire Cookie stared at her, contemplating, before he took a deep breath and said: 
"...why did you do it? Why would you ever... do that, to yourself...? I just- I, I don't understand..."
She could see the tears beginning to pile up at the corners of his eyes, and it... still perplexed her, to some degree. As she readjusted to speaking, she blankly queried:
"You... care...?"
"...th-that shouldn't be a question..."
Alchemist Cookie looked away: "I... thought you didn't."
"...Wh-wh-what made you... what made you... think that...?"
(Her eyes looked back at him again. The look on his face... why did he seem so... upset?)
"..."
This was it, this was the moment she had been waiting for this entire time: The moment when she would look her brother dead in the eyes and finally divulge to him the disease that had been plaguing her mind, say the words, "you did."
"You did this to me."
...
But as much as it burned the back of her throat, the words just never came. And her head ached with the thoughts that she couldn't express.
She couldn't bring herself to say that.
Tumblr media
She felt something burst in her eyes again. Embarrassing; there was no way to hide it this time.
Why did things always have to be so UNFIXABLE...?
Tumblr media
"A-Alchemist Cookie, you're... y-you're crying..."
"I-I... I..." The words were so, so hard to form. Nothing felt right. Everything felt wrong. She felt so, sowrong. She couldn't take being wrong. But... her feelings had to come out. And they came out; she finally managed to spit it all out: "...I just... I couldn't... I couldn't take it anymore... I can't take it anymore..."
"...take... what...?"
She sniffled: "...you're always... it's always grape juice, it's all... it's everything to you, it's everywhere,every day, all the time, and I... I-I just feel like I'm nothing to you... I have to take care of you, when you get drunk and that's all the time... you can never take care of yourself or come home by yourself or do anything yourself... and you pass out and say weird things and you forget your own name and you forget my name a-and-"
Her voice was collapsing in on itself like a buckled floor, but she fought weary and bleary through the instability:
"A-a-and that's all I ever... all we ever do together is... because you're always so... intoxicated... it's like you forget about everything else... you forget about me... and you're always just..." She was breathing so hard that it hurt, "you never spend real time with me. It's always either at the bar o-or, or when you're at home you're still just drinking and drinking and..."
A heavy acid rain was drowning her voice and face. She didn't know if she was able to purge everything that had ravaged her on the inside, if she could get everything out in the right words, if her words would be right at all...
But... those feelings needed to get out.
She needed to get those feelings out.
It wasn't wrong just to feel, was it? When these feelings were designed to tell that something was wrong.
"I just... just... wanted, f-for you... to care about me... I-I couldn't take that, that... that I didn't matter as much, to you..."
"Alchemist Cookie..." he was trying to cover his face with his hands, she could see the glimmers of guilt in his tears, but he didn't look away from her. Contrarily, his stare became much more fixed as the words solemnly spilled from his heart mouth: "...you... you mean more to me than I can... I-I don't know what I'd do without you-"
"I know, s...someone has to ta-ake care of you... that's, the problem... I have to, but I can't... I can't take it..."
"Th-that's not what I... (crumbs, I didn't mean it like-)"
"I can't... I can't keep taking care of you... I'm sick of it... I'm sick of grape juice... I'm sick of seeing you drunk all the time... I'm sick of LIVING LIKE THIS...!" She coughed, but she could still breathe. She persisted: "I- I- I can't- I can't... I can't keep doing this... for the rest of my life... knowing that I'm going to crumble before you ever will eventually and then who will take care of you after that??" She took a deep breath. "I-I-I... I'm just a normal Cookie and you're not... Wh-why do we have to be so unequal...?Wh-why- why do I have to be to be so INADEQUATE...!?"
"D-don't say that, STOP!!!" He slapped his hands over his mouth immediately, his eyes widening and looking down at them. After seconds of evident processing, slowly returning to meet her gaze again, his next words were immediately at a lower volume and gentler tone: "...Please..." He almost reached one hand out at her before stopping himself, "Alchemist Cookie, you're my little sister, you shouldn't beworrying about... stuff like this, you shouldn't be thinking anything like this, you're... you're too young for that, you... you're..."
His hands went back up to his face again, this time burying himself enough to muffle his voice just slightly.
"You're too young to crumble... I don't- You have a whole life ahead of you, you have- you have so much time left, why would you... wh-why cut it short...?" 
(...why was that his fixation...?)
"..." the waterworks still welled in her eyes, but her voice grew stabler yet also quieter, colder just like his hugs. But she couldn't move. "...I just... wanted things to change. I wanted to be happy."
"...you weren't happy..."
It wasn't a question.
Vampire Cookie folded his arms, eyes cast down, tears trickling and... contemplative.
"...I... didn't even realize... I-I mean, I guess I started to-"
(Started to...?)
She cut him off:
"Of course you didn't notice, with how happy you are all the time. You're really lucky, aren't you? Life's so good to you all the time... Everyone wants to be friends with you, you just have everything and you never have to work for it, you never have to care about your health because you're special... and you tell me I need to stop worrying about things, but I have to worry about you because you don't worry about anything, but I- I need to worry about you because you'll probably get into something stupid while you're drunk or just stop... stop taking care of yourself everywhere that matters and, I can't let you do that, I can't let you be alone when someone has to take you home and... and..."
She felt as if a world's worth of weight was upon her, a world of pain that she was forced to live in. Alone.
"I just don't understand, why you get to be so happy, when I don't..."
"...I'm not."
"...wh-what?"
"Alchemist Cookie, I... it's not like that, but..." as he stared into her eyes again, he sighed: "...I don't never worry about anything, I'll admit it. The truth is... I'm... always kinda worried... sorta... you know..."
He looked over to something out of her field of view- by the head of her bed. It was where she heard the beeping sound coming from.
"...you're always working yourself so hard, sis... too hard... you basically never relax, I have to remind you to sleep half the time. You think I don't get worried about you...?" He paused before continuing: "I... kinda always felt like something like this would happen someday- not the same thing, but... that you'd just give up taking care of yourself because you're so dedicated to your work. Or that one day I'd just come into your room and see that some experiment gone wrong did you in, and..."
(His breathing hitched...?)
"...I-I... I can't lose you like that..."
"..." Alchemist Cookie blinked away any remaining droplets. Still processing what she was hearing, her only words were: "You're going to lose me eventually..."
"...I- I know. I don't like to- I don't want to think about that... any of this... I-I've always tried to not think about it..."
"...is that why you drink juice all the time?"
He attempted to mumble something under his breath- but he was just loud enough and he was just close enough that she could just barely make it out:
"(I don't know. Maybe more than I need to, I guess...)"
"..."
...
As the saying went: "The first step is admitting you have a problem."
He started speaking clearly again, looking back to her yet another time- and he looked just a little more regretful than even before:
"...I know it's nothing like... what you've been going through, I'm not trying to compare that, I just... want you to know that I do care about you, sis, I just... gosh, when you yelled at me that one time- what was it, two weeks ago now?- I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know it was this much-"
"You mean... the time I yelled at you, in my room...?"
(...she felt just a small pang of guilt about the intensity of her ire in that moment...)
"Hmm? Oh, that was... that too I guess, but I mean earlier than that. Where was it again? Living room, I think...? Yeah, that! Probably two and a half weeks ago, I think..." 
"...that was..."
...two and a half weeks ago...?
...she hadn't even been poisoning herself for that long, and things had escalated this far...?
How potent was that solution of hers...? 
...
Despite the nagging of her own insatiable interest, she knew that, perhaps, this was a knowledge that was better of not known, to herself at the very least. For her own sake. She didn't want to stare into that abyss again.
...
Tumblr media
Two and a half weeks ago. She had outpoured her anger two and a half weeks ago.
Two and a half weeks ago, her feelings had finally boiled over. She had gotten to concocting her plan to poison herself with that sick solution...
And for what? For what had all of this been?
Would this have really been the solution to all her problems?
...
If she hadn't survived to explain everything to Vampire Cookie, he wouldn't have realized a thing. He wouldn't have stopped drinking grape juice. He probably would've started drinking more of it just to cope with the loss...
...
Two and a half weeks ago.
Somehow, he had kept track of the time.
And he remembered. He remembered her outburst.
He remembered her.
...
While she was beginning to think back on those weeks, on everything she hadn't paid attention to before, her brother kept on talking:
"That was when you told me you didn't want to, uh, look after me..." he hugged his arms around himself and looked down to the side, embarrassment showing through the regretful smile he was trying to put up, "I, uh, didn't even really get it fully until I was talking to Sparkling Cookie one night, when I went out... and uh, he told me that he always calls you to take me home when I, can't do it myself... and I didn't even realize how often you had to do that, I thought it was just a few times, haha..." his laugh didn't really sound amused as he brought one hand up to his face, "...I didn't even... remember half of those times..."
"...yeah. I can guess."
"And I thought that was all that you meant. So, I told him to stop calling you, and-"
"You... got your friends to take you home, didn't you...?"
That night Cinnamon Cookie had carried her brother home, then the other time that Sparkling Cookie did the same... How could she have been so oblivious...? 
"...I... didn't even realize you had done that... I even talked to them, but..." her eyes turned away from him, "I... guess I was just so focused on how you were still drinking grape juice, I didn't feel like anything was changing..."
"...I...is that why you did it, then...? Above everything else? Because I have to drink juice?"
"..."
She fell more silent than she would have expected to be at this question. She was imagining, over and over again in her head, the various reasons she could give for why she had done what she did- many of which had something to do with grape juice- and the exact ways to lay it out, to get the perfect emotional response, but...
No. None of it felt right, really. None of it was perfect.
Even now, with them spilling everything within their hearts to each other- none of it was perfect. She knew she had so much more to say, and he probably had more too, but the flow of conversation would carry them away before they could get it all across, when they weren't holding themselves back. How long would it take of conveying these ill-defined feelings in words, over and over again, until they finally understood each other? Would it be days? Weeks? Months? Years?
"...I-I don't know..."
Really, that was both true and untrue- she had a multitude of reasons, compounding upon each other to poison her mind- but...
None of her reasons were right. Nothing. The action she had taken in and of itself was just so wrong, there was no way she could justify it anymore. Why had she done that to herself!? It hadn't done any good in the end. Things had been changing for the better around her, Cookies had been caring for her well-being, and it was exactly because she had been so dedicated to her own self-destruction that she had not seen any of it...
(...she really needed to apologize to Sparkling Cookie, didn't she...?)
And to her brother...
She knew it would be foolish of her to tell him, "it's because you don't care."
Because she knew that was wrong.
She was seeing that on full display right now.
She had seen it the entire time.
But it was only now beginning to click.
"...you were... you were actually trying to care for me when I... started doing this, weren't you? When you checked in on me... and I yelled at you..."
"Oh. Yeah. Uh, when Sparkling Cookie told me you were... 'sick,' he pretty much... banned me from the juice bar, temporarily. And told me to cut back on the juice until you were better. And... I knew he was probably right by that. How was I supposed to take care of you if I couldn't even take care of myself?Uh... yeah. But I don't really know how to 'cut back,' so I kinda... went back and forth on too much and too little. Left me really thirsty a lot. Thought it'd be fine to try and look for a drink around your room that one time, but... (gosh, the stuff you said there was... I probably should've seen all of this coming...) I didn't want to..."
He seemed to grow more uncomfortable talking about this, scratching the back of his head nervously.
"I knew I wouldn't be able to resist. So, I just... decided to stay out of your room, after that. You know how I get when I'm... 'low on juice,' right...?"
(He hadn't kept trying to check up on her in her room after that, but she had noticed him hanging out around her more anyway, the few times she left the room. He had... tried to make sure she was nourishing herself...
...Those two and a half weeks, he really had been able to tell she was sick... No thanks to any toxicant, but the few times she'd communicated with other Cookies... and he had done what he could with what he was given, each time...
She really never had needed to dance so close with death, had she...?)
"..."
He always drank more after physical exertion.
But she could only really think of one time she had seen him get ravenous
Tumblr media
The day he became abnormal.
Tumblr media
Split wood on the floor
Tumblr media
Spilled puddles of red
Tumblr media
Desperation dripping with hunger
Tumblr media
Violet consumed by burgundy 
Tumblr media
"...yes. I don't want to think about that..."
"...am I really that scary...? Well, I guess if Dr. Bones Cookie's a good metric to judge by, then... (heh...)"
Alchemist Cookie's eyes moved to the other Cookie in the room. She could see that Dr. Bones Cookie was trying to let the two have their moment and focus on whatever papers were on their clipboard, but couldn't do much to hide the anxiousness on their face looking back and forth between those and the siblings.
She knew that they'd always expressed their own concerns about Vampire Cookie and his condition, but they certainly seemed to know more about the type of Cookie he was, about his needs, about how he functioned in general... but Vampire Cookie would rarely ever show up for scheduled checkups. Alchemist Cookie always did for her own, and she... hadn't considered asking them about him. 
...how had she missed something so obvious?
(...she'd been missing obvious things for the past two and a half weeks...)
"...Dr. Bones Cookie?"
"H-huh!?"
The doctor, startled at the mention of their name, almost dropped their clipboard but managed to catch it in the nick of time. Vampire Cookie tilted his head, but said nothing.
"G-Good Tingly-Bones! Is there something wrong???" the doctor asked as they checked through their papers, making sure they were still in order. (Alchemist Cookie was dreading when she would have to hear whatever those said...)
"No. I just... I know my brother has to drink juice to sustain himself, right...? But... is that really true? Is there really nothing else he can-"
They immediately sighed, as Vampire Cookie shifted uncomfortably in place but didn't say a word. They started to explain:
"Err, your brother is an... interesting Cookie. His dough contains around 10% strong grape juice- that would be strawberry jam in any other grown Cookie, but-"
"He's different. In a lot of ways. I know already."
She didn't intend for that to sound so bitter.
"...w-well," they continued, "they don't exactly put too much about vampires in medical literature, so what I do know is limited, but... normally they have to drink the jam of other desserts... but if his body's composition substitutes juice for jam, then-"
"My brother substitutes juice for jam as well..."
Vampires were jamsuckers- She'd heard about that. She'd never seen her brother personally do such a thing... except in a few scuffles, but that was just the way he fought dessert monsters and such- he didn't do such things recreationally, and never to another Cookie.
...But what she saw in movies and read and novels, heard about in horror stories, about Cookies like him, the things she tried to deny due to the occasional discrepancy and knowing her brother wasn't a monster...
How could she keep denying her brother's namesake at that point...?
Vampire Cookie turned his back to the other two, as if he didn't want any attention paid to him. 
(...they were kinda talking about him as if he weren't right there in the room, weren't they...?)
Dr. Bones Cookie paid him no mind:
"That's my theory, at least. But make no bones about it, he certainly does have it in him to drink jam if he's desperate enough..." they shot a mildly disgruntled look in her brother's direction, "Never set up a jam transfusion with a starving vampire in the room, if I've learned anything..."
She could see shivers travel up her brother's back, and his face turned redder than its usual tinge- but the way it burned his cheeks was unfamiliar compared to the drunken flush she was accustomed to seeing him with. He whispered a "sorry" under his breath with his eyes pointed towards her.  Dr. Bones Cookie's focus appeared to shift before Alchemist Cookie could bargain ask any further questions:
"Speaking of which: Vampire Cookie, I need to discuss a few things with you..."
Dr. Bones Cookie pulled Vampire Cookie to the side- or at least, they tried to. Vampire Cookie wasn't so easily moved. 
"What things...?"
"Err, concerning the patient. I-I know this isn't my field of expertise, but I... I just have a few concerns, and, um..." the doctor glanced over at Alchemist Cookie for a moment, and then returned their attention to Vampire Cookie as they lowered their voice to a whisper that was still not low enough for her not to hear: "(have you thought about signing her up for counseling with Chamomile Cookie...??)"
"..."
Vampire Cookie seemed more compliant after that. The two stepped a bit further away- just far enough that as they talked to each other quietly, she couldn't hear a single word they were saying. Probably something about her that they didn't want her to hear just yet, she assumed...
(...counseling... they were going to put her into counseling...
Something about that knotted up her stomach further than it had already been twisted. Counseling was for Cookies who needed help, for Cookies who cried. Alchemist Cookie didn't need help, she didn't cry.
...
Oh, who was she even kidding at this point?
Gosh, she was really SICK, wasn't she...?)
Tumblr media
...she was caught between a rock and a hard place.
Tumblr media
Juice or jam.
Tumblr media
...
Tumblr media
Nothing could ever be perfect, could it? He seemed so deeply discomforted with just the sight of strawberry jam, and of course he'd be: Hungering for the lifeblood of another living being, that was... a disturbing idea, even to her. It wasn't even up for consideration.
Neither of them would be happy like that. 
She didn't want him to be unhappy like that. 
...in the back of her head, she did ponder what life would be like like that, if he drank jam instead of juice. But the reveries of her brother being more active, more aware, more... there were quickly broken by visions of him sucking the life out of other Cookies' necks like a scene right out of a horror movie.
She didn't think he would hurt her... maybe. Otherwise she probably wouldn't be alive right now.
(...once she thought about it, what she pictured of her brother acting ideally... wasn't even that different from the way he was acting right now, or... even how he acted normally... when he wasn't too drunk, at least...)
That grape juice aroma that had lingered around their lives, it was by no means a good thing. It would've been so much better if they could just be rid of it entirely. But they couldn't have that. Life would never be perfect. But for what they could do, for what they did have, it was just something they had to put up with.
'It could've been worse' was never the best thought to turn to- but even it had its uses...
...
It could've been worse.
He could've been so much worse
He could've been like those vampires from the movies and myths, cruel and uncaring and violent- some cold count, creeping around the darkness, hunting unsuspecting Cookies like a predator stalking its prey...
But for all his flaws, all his shortcomings, everything he could improve on, everything he should improve on...
He cared about her. Enough to try cutting back on juice by himself. Enough that he cared about her happiness even when he didn't know the full extent of her pain. 
He came all the way out here to the hospital just to be by her side, when normally such a thing was too much work to him. He tried to respect her boundaries when he saw it was getting to her. He tried to cook for her, when he had never touched a stove, because she wouldn't eat...
She'd thought he wouldn't have cared if she were to crumble right before his eyes. 
Those same eyes had dampened her crumbling face with a gentle rain of tears as he said "I love you..."
(He loved her enough that he was willing to put in the effort to make a change.
He didn't really know how to do it the best way, and maybe things could never go as far as she'd have dreamed of, but... maybe, they could work it out...)
"Alchemist Cookie?"
She had been lost in her thoughts for long enough that the other two had finished their conversation and walked back to the side of her bed. Dr. Bones Cookie was trying to address her while her brother was standing next to them... and while she couldn't read his expression, it didn't seem very joyous.
"...what is it?"
She could read their deliberation in the stuttering of false starts, of "well"s and "you see"s, as they struggled for words, nervous sweat running down, before they at last got a sentence going:
"(How do I say this...) S-so, from the jam test results and what your brother said was found in your room... Good Tingly-Bones, kid, you shouldn't even be alive right now!! H-How much of that mixture of yours did you drink!?"
She wasn't shocked by their disbelief- she'd felt about the same way, after all. But what surprised her, thinking about how to answer their question... was the answer she ended up giving:
"I-I... don't know... I think it was... I drank it every day, for... a week, and a half...?"
(Two and a half weeks didn't leave much up to interpretation. But it still just felt too short... but... no, no, things had really just deteriorated that quickly. And that was what confounded her so. And yet it all blurred together in her head and dragged on for so long...)
"...how much of it every day, exactly...?"
"...I-I wasn't keeping track, I just filled the vial in my room, I think..."
She could hardly fathom the lack of plan or reason in what she had no way of denying had been her own fully conscious actions. She wasn't even sure what to think of herself at this point.
Dr. Bones Cookie sighed, murmuring something about 'treatment' before speaking with a resigned voice: "I-I'll just... keep it brief: That concoction contained some of the most dangerously toxic substances known to Cookiekind... and those substances are all over your body right now. Most of them don't even have known antidotes...! I've given you what I could, but most of what I can do is treat the symptoms until this clears out of your body on its own... (hopefully). You'll be staying here until I'm certain you're in a good condition...!"
None of this was anything she didn't either already know or couldn't have figured out on her own. And yet, hearing the words said out loud, she felt the weight of her circumstances really sink in.
...but one thing stood out to her, regardless:
"...I-I can't go home...?"
"Your body can't fight this on its own. I-it's going Tibia LONG road to recovery, but with proper care... (well, let's just hope your condition stays stable, at least...)."
Alchemist Cookie frowned. Did they really have to try lightening the mood like that...?
"...Dr. Bones Cookie...? How long will it be...?"
"...my best guess right now is at least a month..."
(...that didn't sound like a concrete estimate...)
Vampire Cookie pulled his cape over his face. 
"D-D-Doc said that..." he started with a lachrymose voice, "that no one can really do anything but hope for the best right now. Nothing else. We c...can't control what happens, s-so..."
He turned away and began walking towards the door sulkily.
"I should get going, visiting hours are over. I'm taking too much of their time anyways..."
It didn't even feel as if it had been that long. Were visiting hours that short? Or... how long had he been waiting for her to wake up...?
The sound of his footsteps as he trudged to the door made Alchemist Cookie feel... something that called her to ask, just to make sure:
"You'll come back tomorrow, right...?"
He stopped just before he could touch the handle, at first seeming completely frozen for a few seconds before he at last responded:
"...y-yeah, of course...! Just..." he looked back at her, "don't go anywhere! Okay?"
And with that, he opened the door and staggered out, letting it slam shut behind him.
The weeping was loud enough she could still hear it, unmoving for minutes until finally fading away.
And thus, Alchemist Cookie was left to intensive care. 
Not exactly the intensive care unit, but she couldn't be picky like this.
"...Dr. Bones Cookie?" Alchemist Cookie said. "...when do you think I'll be able to move, or... touch things.... or do anything again?
"Hmm... well... you're able to communicate. That's a good start."
The recovery process over the next few days didn't have a lot to do, with her being stationary as Dr. Bones Cookie managed her condition and kept it from worsening. Even just the fact she hadn't been able to eat for those days was causing problems; Dr. Bones Cookie explained to her that had her brother not told them at the scene about her malnourished state, they would've immediately put her onto parenteral nutrition... which would've triggered refeeding syndrome. She had to be slowly and carefully replenished, gradually increasing back to normal amounts... via catheter in the arm. It wasn't even certain if the damage to her stomach could heal in full.
(She asked them to give it to her while she was asleep. She wanted to be able to move freely the moment she recovered)
Despite this lack of action, her second day of regained consciousness was... not what she would call boring, with a curiosity like hers. She was constantly asking questions about her condition, and when she wasn't doing that, she was thinking over it herself. After all, medicine was a key facet of alchemy.
Would she ever be able to do alchemy again? Was she still even Alchemist Cookie without that? She didn't have anything else that had defined her at this point. She didn't know what to think of herself.
As promised, Vampire Cookie came to visit, more punctual than she had ever seen him been in her life. He seemed a bit less 'out of it' than when he had left, from the moment he was allowed into the room. But he still seemed a little off, the way he was so obviously catching his breath, sweating, as if he had ran all the way there from their home.
...
That was it, wasn't it.
That wasn't it for the odd behavior, though- as soon as he could breathe, he immediately went on questioning her about how the doctor was treating her (well), how comfortable she was (as much as she could be), if she was doing any better (...)...
...he was more alert than usual, more agitated. It was apparent to her that he was still depriving himself, even though she was no longer in his care. He kept pulling his cape over his mouth whenever he wasn't speaking, and when he did speak, she couldn't help but notice that faltering tone of his voice. That barely noticeable reddish tinge tainting his eyes, threatening to consume
...he seemed hesitant to stand too close to her. Whenever even just a hand or a foot would cross some theoretical line, he'd pull it back immediately, as if he couldn't be near her. 
...
That conversation she had had with Dr. Bones Cookie must have really gotten to him, hadn't it? Everything she had said that day in general, to the point he's ended up in a situation like this: denying himself the satiation that would give himself security here.
"I-I'm sorry if I'm a bit... antsy today, I just... i-it's just been really stressful with everything happening, I just-"
His stomach grumbled, shutting him up and putting a look of apprehension clear on his face. He backed a few steps away from her. 
She rolled her eyes, just as a gesture to tell him that his fears were all in his mind: He wouldn't do anything to her; it simply wasn't in his nature.
She trusted him.
She wasn't used to doing that, now that she thought about it. But after what happened in her lab, she felt she could start.
...
Tumblr media
The following days of slow recovery, each and every one, he would come in like this. Every single day, for every last minute allotted to visit, he would keep his distance from her, yet still question her as much as possible. She could tell this was eating him up, but she didn't really know how to address it. She didn't want him to be unhealthy.
"...just remember to feed yourself, silly," she said abruptly one day as he left.
"Huh? O-of course I will, I haven't been... d-don't worry about it, sis. It's your turn to relax, anyways."
"But-"
The door cut her off. She made a mental note to shift her research into vampirism the moment she could pick up a book again. Whenever that day would be. If that day would ever come. Every single night, as she was dragged down into sleep, her greatest fear was that she wouldn't rise the next day. 
Tumblr media
It was the very next day that she would finally regain the strength to move. She didn't try to sit up without the support of the bed- she wasn't sure she was quite ready for that yet- but she could finally lift her arms. Every movement ached, and it was clear her mobility still had a lot to improve on, but it was there. 
After some discussion and a close examination of her dough, Dr. Bones Cookie finally supposed they could relent on the 'no touch'
She saved her energy for when her brother arrived, and the moment he sauntered in looking in much better shape than when she had last seen him. He seemed less tired, no signs that he had ran- probably started walking sooner, given he still arrived on time- and he immediately was much more comfortable standing close to her. His eyes were perfectly purple, too. Calling him out must have made him get himself together, she supposed.
It was almost jarring to see how much more relaxed his demeanor had become, however.
"Alchemist Cookie, hey! What's up? How's it been?"
...well, he was acting more like his usual self, at least. Casually leaning against the air, floating next to her with his arms behind his head- it was the grape juice smell that confirmed it to her, though: He really had listened to her this time.
She felt nihility creeping up on her. Even though she had been the one to tell him to do it, she still felt this bitter-tasting fear in her that now she had been stable for long enough, things would just go back to the way they had been before. That he would forget this had ever happened. That he'd stop caring again...
"I'm still stuck here. Not much has changed... except for this:"
After some struggle to muster up her energy, she lifted her arms up and held them out and open. And immediately, Vampire Cookie gasped:
"Wait... does this mean what I think it means...?"
He tossed a look at Dr. Bones Cookie, who, after a moment's pondering, seemed to realize what he was referencing and answered:
"W-well, I suppose so... but if you're going to do that again, then you at least need a SHOWER first for sanitation's sake-"
"I washed my hands, that's good enough for me!!"
"H-hey!!!"
Paranoid as they were well-meaning, the doctor tried to grab hold of his cape, but he had already poofed into his smaller form before they could stop him (and all they could do was sigh in resignation). And before Alchemist Cookie could react, she found herself hit square in the chest by the force of what could've easily been mistaken for a baseball if he hadn't been so soft. 
She took the smaller juice bat into her hands gently, holding him out in front of her. The smile on his face was almost infectious... 
"You look so stupid right now, you know."
She couldn't help it. It was such a big, dumb smile.
A big, dumb, warm and loving smile.
"You really..."
Her mouth twitched and her eyes softened. He really was that happy to see her get better. He really cared that much.
"You..."
She took him up closer to her face, and as he nuzzled against her cheek...
She smiled.
She hadn't had a true, happy smile on her face in so, so long.
She hadn't felt truly happy in so, so long.
She had forgotten what it had felt like, to feel secure in the world, that others loved her; to feel that love as it existed right next to her in all its warmth without obstruction or oblivion; to feel all warmth of emotion through the cold of the physical body. She felt that emptiness being filled.
He felt warm to her. She didn't mind if he was cold to the dough. The warmth and love of a familial embrace had finally reached her, and she felt happier than she could ever remember being in recent times. Maybe ever. She didn't know anymore, and she didn't need to; It didn't matter. She was just so happy to have this moment, to have her brother here with her, to be here right now and to experience this joy.
This love.
"...sis? You're crying all over me, y'know... are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, this is... *sniffles* I've never been better..."
She hugged him close to her chest, with all of her limited strength. As limp as her arms were... perhaps that was a good thing: She likely would've crushed him otherwise. She was squeezing him as if she'd never gotten a hug before, as if he hadn't given her one a million times over. 
...he had. But this time, it just felt different. She wasn't being clung to obnoxiously by a tipsy Cookie; this was a genuine moment of reciprocal tenderness, where everything felt just right.
This was something personal. Meaningful. 
"...well, I'm not complaining."
"I-I can't remember the last time I was this happy..."
She felt all warm and fuzzy inside...
She felt so happy to be alive.
"(...maybe Dr. Bones Cookie was right...)"
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
(She had a feeling she knew what he meant... and maybe she didn't have to worry about it. It would spoil the moment, anyways.)
Tumblr media
Her recovery seemed to go by a lot faster after this, with her gradually regaining strength in her limbs even if the pain remained. Her brother continued visiting everyday, and now she was the one asking him questions- making sure he was still taking care of his own needs (even if he looked like it already), that they would be hanging out as much as possible the moment she was out of there (she already had several activities planned out), and...
With his little juice bat self nestled in her hair, she asked:
"...why didn't you ever tell me you weren't happy?"
"...hmm?"
"I remember what you said, you know. You said you aren't really that happy."
"...well, why didn't you ever tell me you're never happy?"
"..."
"Besides-"
"I just didn't think you'd care, I guess."
"...Alchemist Cookie-"
"B-but, you always talk about how much you love your life, right...? How do you love your life if you aren't happy??"
"...you know, sis, there's always going to be stuff that makes you unhappy. And sometimes you can't do anything about it. But... I guess what I've learned is... not to think about it all the time. You just have to think about the stuff that makes you happy instead, y'know...? Like, say..." 
She felt his wings pressed down on her head.
"My most precious treasure."
"...what would that be?"
She tilted her head, her eyes shifting upwards despite not making him more visible. He replied, shortly yet sweetly:
"My brilliant little sister who's the smartest Cookie on Earthbread."
"..."
She didn't feel as if she deserved to be called that. But... it felt good hearing someone say it. 
Hearing him say it.
"Love ya, sis."
"...love you too."
For a moment, she didn't really feel sick anymore.
~~~
The poison was finally clearing out of her system; the battle was over, and she had been victorious. But alas, war was not without its casualties:
Dr. Bones Cookie had been quite apologetic, and very apparently frustrated about their own limitations the entire time, even if no one held it against them that they were essentially running an entire miniature hospital by themself. When Alchemist Cookie was finally discharged, she was essentially wheelchair-bound. She wasn't incapable of walking, but the pain and fatigue that it brought was too much to be reasonable, and she was far too at risk of stumbling, falling, getting hurt-
The amount of time it would take to recover her walking ability was uncertain. If she ever did, then the disuse of her legs would likely mean she'd need physical therapy to be able to use them again. But at this point, she was just happy to go home...
Even if she would still need some degree of taking care of. The doctor still recommended she spend most of the day resting at the very least. Her brother would have to take care of her, against all protests of hers. She had been taken care of for long enough. 
She was certain it made him no better than what he had been. 
But he seemed... just fine with this prospect...?
"What if I never get better...? What if you're stuck taking care of me for the rest of my life?"
"C'mon, sis, aren't you the one who goes on about giving stuff in return...? Honestly, you shouldn't have been giving it in the first place, but... hey, at least now you get to sit back and relax, right?"
"..."
"...come on, give yourself a break for once. You deserve it, you know."
...
Recovery really was going to be a long process...
But she had her brother, and he was actually going to put in the effort to moderate himself. And she had never been more happy to be in those grape juice-smelling rooms of their home again.  
(The smell had just barely begun to fade...)
And there at home at last, they were surprised by her brother's friends- Sparkling Cookie had been trusted to watch the house for all the times her brother was out to see her, and with how Vampire Cookie had so excitedly relayed the news to him that she was coming home that day, he had invited Herb Cookie and Mint Choco Cookie over to welcome them home. 
...the latter two were clearly more there for her brother, and she supposed she couldn't blame them as beyond the belated 'thank you's for keeping her alive until the ambulance had arrived, she didn't really have anything to say to them either. They just didn't really know each other that well. 
...
But the former, sitting to the side and patiently listening to the rest, chiming in here and there- she wheeled right up to him and plainly stated:
"I'm sorry."
"...for what?" He tilted his head slightly.
"..." she took a deep breath, in and out: "you were just trying to help me, and I was... really mad at you. You didn't deserve... that."
"...oh. Oh. I see... It's alright, Alchemist Cookie. I'm just happy to see you've recovered from your... sickness..."
He looked deeply uncomfortable with just that one last word. 
"...you don't have to sugarcoat it, you know. I know you're the one who found out."
"..." his smile fell: "I won't pry, but... just know," he said with a gentle tone as he pushed some of her hair away from her face, "you can always come talk to me if you need someone to listen."
"..."
She smiled.
"...thanks, Sparkling Cookie." 
Tumblr media
That very night when they had come home together, once everyone else had left and it was just her and her brother again, as she was still getting used to her new mode of movement, Alchemist Cookie found she had trouble getting through the door to her own room. She would be able to just barely reach the doorknob, but the true problem lay in that her door opened outwards... and she wasn't that good at maneuvering herself, thus she didn't know if she could find a way to get around the door hitting her when it opened. She didn't know how to keep it open as she entered, either.
...she ended up having to ask Vampire Cookie for help, already. Just to get the door for her.
(...maybe asking for help wasn't so bad after all...)
She realized immediately upon entering the room how much tidier it was compared to how she had left it, after she had messed it up creating her concoction and neglected to clean up after herself. But now, even that poison of hers had been scrubbed from the cauldron, and under the moonlight through the now open curtains she could see: Neither jam nor venom spat smeared the floor...
Good riddance, she thought.
(She'd have to thank Sparkling Cookie for this, most likely...)
Stains were left behind- forever to remind of that incident, never able to be scrubbed clean. But perhaps some things were best left unforgotten.
Once she was close enough to her bed, she was able to use her limited walking ability to get herself into it. Crumbs, that hurt really bad. 
...and her brother came to tuck her in, even though she tried to reject it. 
"This is humiliating...!"
"There's nothing humiliating about a little TLC, sis."
"It just feels so... It's like you're treating me like a kid."
"...Alchemist Cookie, you are a kid."
"..."
She'd never really thought about it before, but...
She was a kid. Yet she'd never really gotten to be one. Always at work in her lab, always worrying about things she couldn't control... and always taking care of an adult who wouldn't care for himself. That had been her life for so long. That had been her 'normal.'
She didn't know how to live without asphyxia. She had always wanted to breathe, but now that she could, she didn't really know what to do with herself. Everything she could do had long since faded to obscurity in her mind. All those hobbies of hers had grown dusty, forgotten...
But... she could work on it now. She could go out and make friends and read books and look at the stars and do anything she wanted. She could finally enjoy alchemy again.
She had made a mental note earlier, hadn't she...? To get to work on something?
...she could throw that aside for now. Right now wasn't the time for that.
...she could spend quality time with her brother and he wouldn't be too drunk to remember, maybe. A lot of the plans she had come up with for them would probably need modification, given her current indefinite condition, but she wouldn't let anything stop her from having this, now that she had it. 
She knew she could've had it more smoothly, but there was no going back. Things could've been worse, anyways. Better not worrying about things out of her control.
She had bettering things to think about now.
That very second day she was home, after getting changed out of that hospital gown she had left on (getting dressed was difficult, but it was something she could do by herself, lying on her bed...)- which she would have to wash and return later- she had her first real meal in a long time, and he was the one who cooked it. He insisted on learning this on his own, on learning to do things for himself. 
For her.
(He was adamant on washing that hospital gown too)
It tasted... not too bad, really. She could appreciate the effort this time. She put on her best smile, and happily ate away. Even if it wasn't the best.
Maybe someday it could be great.
Just watching her eat seemed to overwhelm her brother with so much emotion, that before she could even take her last bite she found him crying over her shoulder with nothing but pure joy.
"W-welcome back, sis...!"
It had been so long since she had been in another Cookie's embrace and really embraced it for herself; something about it just brought her own emotions out. And the two of them spent a good minute or two crying in that awkward position, him standing next to her sitting at the table by that mediocre meal still cooked with love, just grateful that they were both alive and had each other and that they could finally communicate.
And it was their unspoken promise to put communication above all, because that could've saved them so much hardship in the first place.
And they were never going to let anything like this happen ever again.
Over the course of the month, healing had its bumps in the road. Alchemist Cookie and Vampire Cookie were trying their hardest to get better, to make things better- and they were getting better, of course. But both of them would sometimes fall back into old habits: Vampire Cookie would occasionally fail to keep himself in check, and Alchemist Cookie's issues were a chronic mess. He'd sometimes fall to temptation and drink enough to forget, and in turn she would cry her eyes out and sometimes fall to her darker urges, and he would cry his own eyes out the moment he saw what he caused.
But they were both aware, willing to communicate, and ready to work on it all; For themselves, for each other, for family. They'd try to keep an eye on each other, to keep an eye on themselves- Vampire Cookie especially. And the day he was able to go out to the bar and come home by himself, without needing another Cookie to cut him off- the two of them couldn't have been happier. 
Beginning about a week and a half after she came home, her sessions with Chamomile Cookie were... cathartic, in a sense. She had been hesitant to spill to some Cookie that she didn't know, but the soothing, floral aroma of the cabin was enough to put her mind at ease, and she was assured that she could talk about anything on her mind. Knowing she wasn't forced to wrench things out against her will, she just started talking about her day. 
...and eventually, she started loosening up, started spilling her feelings out over a cup of tea, and she found that a burden had been lifted. Chamomile Cookie would listen to her; that Cookie wasn't that conversational, but she was a Cookie who Alchemist Cookie could confide in. 
She was able to engage more socially with other Cookies again. Pretty much the moment her acquaintances had found out she had 'been sick' (of course, certain details were never to be disclosed) and saw the lingering effects, they were all over her, so to speak. Always well-meaning, but sometimes they were a bit much. 
...she'd never really thought of herself as having many real friends. Maybe really any. She just didn't keep in touch enough. She loved having friends, but they always came and went. But seeing so many Cookies going out of their way to talk to her again made her think, perhaps the problem was just that she hadn't been able to see them.
Gingerbrave was ever the friend to all, of course- the moment he'd seen her rolling around the Cookie Kingdom, he had so many questions about what happened to her and if she was healthy and, really, she didn't want to answer most of them. Fortunately, he wouldn't keeping pressing after she asked him to stop. 
He tried to make an effort to include her in any big events- even if he didn't know too much about how wheelchairs worked or how to accommodate for them. But she did notice some construction work being done on the library for a while, and by the end of it a ramp had been installed. 
She just had a hunch on who ordered that, even if it never directly came up between them. But she had it in her head to repay him someday, whenever she could figure out something suitable.
She was happy to go to the library again. She used to spend so much time there, immersing herself in stacks of books from opening to closing while the the smell of paper would stimulate her hunger for knowledge... 
She decided to try actually checking out the books she'd read this time, to read at home for a change. Things had gotten much brighter around the house anyway; she actually had enough lighting to read, now. She wasn't sure if it was just from opening the curtains or what, but...
One day, she ran into Sparkling Cookie, returning those old textbooks she had memorized over. It... made her laugh once she realized what he'd been doing. Even if she had to thank him again. 
(When had she last laughed, again...?)
Once, and only once, she even had Wizard Cookie of all Cookies just walk up to her out of the blue and hand her a 'get well soon' card, muttering something into his scarf that she couldn't quite make out.
...she couldn't exactly call it a half-hearted effort considering he left an entire hand-written message, but...
'Dear Alchemist Cookie,'
He had written that above the card's printed-on 'Get Well Soon!' message. The rest continued below:
'I sincerely hope that you're in good health right now.
What happened to you? Did you get injured or something? Some kind of alchemical accident?
(P.S. if that's what happened, maybe try MAGIC next 
Actually whatever happened, just get better, will you? It's so BORING without you around! I miss debating with you, honestly. (Don't tell anyone I said that or you're as good as crumbled)
Sincerely,
Wizard Cookie'
...it was so funny to her, she had to stifle a laugh when she read it. This was his best attempt, just to say that he cared...?
...he cared...
Even her bitter rival cared.
...Cookies cared about her. Cookies looked at her when she came by, smiled at her, listened to her speak about alchemy on end...
(And maybe they'd always done that. But she'd never looked for it until now.)
And if no one else had time for her some days, she could always come home and cozy up to her brother on the couch at night, and he'd wrap an arm or his cape around her while she read herself to sleep or ramble to him and he'd try to keep up. And he was so pleasantly cool, just enough to warm her heart.
And whatever the future would be, however much she'd recover in the months proceeding, she knew: It was better.
48 notes · View notes
joosthead · 29 days ago
Note
Sorry for all of this in advance. Family AUs are my bread and butter regardless of which fandom I'm in and this revelation about the future of normal au has me going insane so just bare with me at moment. Sorry if this is weird/cringe or if you can't comment on anything due to spoilers.🫠
The first kid being an accident because of course he would be. 😅
Born soon after the first wedding, so was he the result of "we're engaged" sex or was he the reason for the proposal if there even was one before the wedding? Was Reader pregnant at the wedding??? If so, omg how cute but also it probably looked like a shotgun wedding to outsiders which is funny to me.
(Also if there was an engagement, how did Joost propose?? Was it romantic and planned or a spur of the moment thing?)
And of course the second kid is also an accident.🤣 They probably got too excited once given the all clear to have sex again after the first was born. Of course they would end up with two so close together.
Kids 1 and 2 sound like little menaces and I both love that for Joost and Reader and pity them at the same time. 
Also for the third kid, I love how Joost saying she's fussy and not liking any of his songs harkens back to when him and Reader first met and the first song of his she listened to was a skip. Like mother like daughter indeed.
I love thinking back to the prequel fic of when they met with Reader chewing out Joost for ruining her purse and later realizing she is having sex with a man with a crazy frog tattoo with all this future information in mind. Like, honey, you just met the father of your children. He is going to sing Crazy Frog to them as they go to sleep.
I'm going to say this in the context of normal au to not be parasocial and make assumptions about the actual guy, but I think Joost would be a great dad. He's like a big kid himself so he would get along with the lil kleins so well. Although that probably leaves all the discipline to poor Reader.
So those were my thoughts and feelings 🤪. I hope you don't mind all of that 😅. Normal au is one of my favorites on here and I love your writing. Can't wait to see how these two idiots fall in love. 👍
anon first of all: thank you thank you thank you for leaving this incredibly detailed and lovely ask it isn't weird or cringe I ABSOLUTELY LOVE LOVE LOVE TALKING ABOUT NORMAL AU !!! lolol i was actually going to have it so they're a 1 and done couple but i thought three little kleins running around would be so cute :’’’’))) i grappled a bit with how normal au would End as in in the future future but i really see them with the white picket fence and the kids and pets and everything….maybe it is my own personal penchant for domesticity but i can't imagine it any other way LOLSSS
reader was pregnant during the wedding!! but they didn’t know until after :’’) there was no proposal, in my head it was like they were taking a walk in joost’s hometown and he was like … we should get married. idk if town hall weddings exist in NE but they do now according to normal au LOL reader’s like yknow what. let’s get married. 
all of it was very spur of the moment but they wouldn’t have it any other way 🩷 and ofc finding out about baby 1 (i w decided he’s named laurens) is CRAZY unexpected for both of them :’’) my heart 
yes that's exactly why baby 2 is an accident LOLOL they pounced on each other the second they got the go ahead and one thing led to another and … baby 2 !! (i’m deciding baby 2 is named juna because of the song by clairo i don’t make the rules [i do make all the rules]) 
laurens n juna r partners in crime in every possible way… when they get old enough to talk and be little rascals they cover for each others various pint sized crimes of which i’m sure there are many—distracting papa from the music or mama from work, boosting each other up to steal cookies from cookie jar, 
there was really no room to worry about if they would get along or not since they’re so close in age…  fr my favorite irish twins 
sometimes reader and joost get at each others heads because parenthood but they will always remember that the common enemy is not each other—it’s the ✨kids✨jk …. unless….. 
baby number 3 (sanne!!) is definitely fussy the way reader is and the parallel to the night they met ,,, anon i didn’t even make that connection when i was writing it !! that is so fucking cute and i love how you KNOWW normal au hahaha oh my gosh i love that sm. i imagine laurens and juna to be a lot like joost in energy and mind while sanne is takes completely after reader
WHEN I TELLLLL YOUUUUUU THIS ALMOST MADE ME CRY AT WORK “like honey you just met the father of your children. he is going to sing crazy frog to them as they go to sleep.” FUCK. FUCKKKKKK. trust when you guys see the rest of normal au it will literally be such a surprise with even more future information
i also agree with you :33 normal au joost is just as blindsided by the babies as reader is but he definitely steps up to the plate for his people :33 i also think he is just such a softie he can't bring it in himself to discipline the kids in a way that matters so he has to beg reader to do it LOL
thank you so so so much for your thoughts and feelings and i invite them wholeheartedly and warmly!! i'm so happy you love normal au and my writing and i thank you for the kind compliments and such generous thoughts on normal au so so much they really keep me writing <333333
45 notes · View notes
knine-nights-loves-ac · 7 months ago
Text
This started as an ask I was gonna send to @teecupangel but then it got like seven paragraphs long and I decided fuck it I’m just gonna make it a post and @ teecup. So here goes!
Another Pokémon!Desmond idea (ps: this got long, tldr; shiny Goomy uncatchable Des)
So to set the stage, AC universe happens as normal but, in the AC universe, pokemon as a franchise doesn’t exist. Just not a thing at all. So, starting off Desmond (who doesn’t know what Pokémon is) dies because of the Eye and poofs into a new universe as he does every other Tuesday.
Now, flash to a Pokémon region. I’m biased so I’ll say Kalos. But most work. Desmond appears on one of the earlier routes as a shiny Pokémon. Because I’m still biased, let’s say a shiny Goomy even though Goomies shouldn’t spawn there.
Desmond, newly goopified, doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. He’s a glob now. And the animals around him are fucking weird. And seemingly only live in the tall grass.
He can’t figure out how to use any of his “moves” outside of basically tackle and scratch and other similarly basic things. So he’s pretty dam weak, probably relatively low level, only thing he has going for him is that he’s fast and, relatively, smart. He’s still got human level intelligence which is enough to outsmart the vast majority of Pokémon.
He spends some time on this route, getting used to things, using his Eagle Vision (which he still has) to find berries, avoiding fights, and just enjoying his forced retirement to another universe. It’s Desmond, unless properly motivated, I think he’d be willing to settle in and chill.
But uh oh, trouble is afoot. In the form of! A CHILD no
This little kid toddles down the path with a belt full of pokeballs. Desmond, who is still new to this world, sees the kid and decides to approach. Why? Idk man, the brain cell got burned by the Eye.
The kid is like “OH MY GOD SHINY GOOMY!” And immediately initiates a Pokémon battle.
How does this feel to Desmond? Im not sure. But he definitely can tell somethings up when the kid starts screaming in another language, sounds like French? (If you get why, you get a cookie), and throws a ball that somehow summons another creature. Let’s say a Caterpie.
The Caterpie is low level, about as intelligent as a real caterpillar, and big. (Fun fact apparently Goomy and Caterpie are the same height). Now Desmond is concerned, especially when the kid yells a command and the huge ass bug attacks him. Caterpie only knows like three moves so it probably just tackles. Desmond, not being an idiot or actually a real Pokémon, dodges. The kid looks surprised but yells again and the Caterpie attacks again. After a few times, Desmond decides “Fuck this shit, I’m out.” and nopes on out of there. The kid is absolutely shocked that the shiny Goomy just ran from the battle and also that it dodged everything.
Desmond meanwhile, hidden now, checks on the kid and sees that they’re blue in Eagle Vision. He’s not sure whether to be surprised or not. On the one hand, he’s never seen a kid that was red, but on the other hand, this kid attacked him.
He metaphorically shrugs it off and continues foraging for berries, he’s trying out new combinations.
Meanwhile, this child runs back to wherever they came from, and eagerly spreads the news about the wild shiny Goomy they saw. Most people don’t believe them, but a couple other kids are curious enough to go looking later.
Another day begins and Desmond stumbles upon a group of kids this time. The original kid among them. They’re speaking quickly, yeah he’s pretty sure it’s French, too bad that’s one of the languages he barely gets (I don’t care if he’d know some via Ezio, he’d know 15th century French, not modern day Pokémon world French). They’re gesturing wildly and some of them are looking accusatorially at the original kid. Desmond tries to get a little closer and, just his luck, stumbles into view of the group. Uh oh.
Several minutes later, the kids are confused as hell, several Caterpies are furiously working their hamster wheel brains to understand what’s happening, and Desmond is starting to question what’s up with the people in this universe.
But something special happened this time. At one point, one of the kids threw a red and white ball at him. It bounced off his head and rolled on the ground, doing nothing. Desmond was just annoyed. The kids were flabbergasted.
Rumors spread until actual researchers are tramping through the tall grass. Desmond is definitely avoiding them. Even if they’re white in Eagle Vision, those lab coats remind him a bit too much of Abstergo.
Eventually, after the human presence becomes a bit too much, Desmond decides to hit the road and moves out from his comfy little tall grass patch in the middle of the night. He settles down again somewhere else.
Repeat cycle a few times until the whole of Kalos has heard tell of this shiny Goomy who nobody can catch and seems to roam the whole region.
Idk what’s happening from there. Begin plot of Pokémon X/Y? Maybe Desmond meets AZ? Lots of options but idk.
63 notes · View notes
nochd · 1 year ago
Text
This came across my dash via the #lgbt tag yesterday. I don't want to engage with the OP because that would get me into fights on radfem tumblr and I don't have the energy for that. But the post itself I think is worth answering, just because it's so neatly and exactly wrong.
(Not that my answer is going to spread very far, because I have 37 non-bot followers, of whom I think roughly 35.5 are just here for the nude photos. But anyway.)
Even if I agree just for argument's sake that the existence of intersex people proves that some people can have "nonbinary" sexes, or "third" sexes, and that "sex is a spectrum," how does that have any relevance to people who are not intersex? Like okay, let's "agree" for the moment that intersex people are something other than male or female. How does that make YOU, as a person who is not intersex, something other than male or female? Saying that intersex people's existence somehow makes sex "complicated" for you specifically is like saying that the issue of whether or not you can hear is "complicated" because some other people who are not you suffer from hearing loss or deafness. Like sorry but for 99% of the human population it is not "more complicated" than born with perfectly normal male genitalia = male and born with perfectly normal female genitalia = female, and chances are you fall into that 99%. Sex is not a social construct or a nebulous enigma of a concept. It is not debatable and made up in the manner that gender is. You cannot philosophize about whether there are two sexes any more than you can philosophize about whether humans have two kidneys. Someone having a missing or malformed kidney or accessory kidneys does not change the fact that humans as a species have two kidneys. Humans are gonochoric just like nearly all other animal species on Earth.
Let's start with the arithmetic. If 99% people are of binary sex, that leaves 1% of people who aren't. There are approximately 8 billion humans on Earth. 1% of 8 billion is 80 million -- about sixteen times the population of my entire country. Even just the number of intersex Americans is something like two-thirds the population of my country. This is not a negligible number of people.
There's a deeper error here, one that goes to the root not just of this misunderstanding but of many. Biology is always complicated, at every scale and at every level of explanation. It's messy, it's fuzzy, and it's always bottom-up, never top-down. Everything biological is the way it is because it grew that way. Biology never does the same thing twice.
Why does it seem like it does? Because, of all the ways you can arrange the parts of a living body, only an astonishingly tiny fraction of them actually make a living body. Any genetic mutation that nudges an organism outside of that fraction dies out and doesn't get passed on. Embryonic development is a gruelling tight-rope walk over a vast pit of non-existence.
Now for most of the body's systems, evolution has only had to produce one arrangement that works and survives. There's not an alternative plumbing plan where the oesophagus goes to the lungs and the trachea to the stomach. But for the reproductive system, evolution has to allow for two arrangements that work and survive, and it has to grow them both from the same starter kit.
What it does, therefore, is grow a body plan that works with a continuum of possible arrangements that includes both of those two. Various other points on the continuum may or may not be capable of producing viable gametes, but they're all survivable.
What biology doesn't do -- what biology never ever does -- is run new products on a conveyor belt stamping them into shape with cookie-cutters. The only things made that way are artificial constructs.
170 notes · View notes
newkatzkafe2023 · 3 months ago
Note
ITS MEEEE IM BACK WITH THE MILK!! THIS ADHD GIRL BACK :33
An S/O (Female) of the Monkey King's (Like reader is girlfriend of the different Monkey Kings), who acts and haves the personality of the first chapter of bfb like FOUR from Bfdi, but they have the same behaviour that Four once had when they made their first appearence in the show, yk, Powerful, Literally Destroys and screechs everything that just breathes the air in a slightly wrong way. How each one will react?
I literally love Four and X and i had to make an request about something similar to Four.
God... i imagine how troublemaker and powerful the Reader willbe with the powers of four, yet they dont know it since they are too dumb to realize (like four)
I love bfdi (Battle for dream island) <333
BTWW HII!! ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I REQUESTED AND SRRY, I WAS STUCK PLAYING COOKIE RUN AND STUFF...
______ (literally an interaction)
Random ahh person: "Y/N can you quit your shenanigans and help-"
*The reader lit screeches and makes them pass out*
*Wukong looking all the interaction and how their girlfriend just screeches everyone who even exists in a wrong way*
"D:"
Tumblr media
I watched some of this and it's Hilarious and I love his character already🤣
Tumblr media
(Lmk Wukong) this is totally him when he has to deal with you. You guys meet in the JTTW and immediately something was very unusual about you. When he aggressively Confronted you the first the thing you did was Screech at him and he woke up on the floor. He was then after that very weary of you after that. Strange things happened around Us in the group after that people even made a legend around us. Even to this day he still doesn't quite get you and your aura but he loves you for it although to the outside looking in people can sense that their is something dark about you for example Macaque and Sandy.
Tumblr media
(MKR Wukong) Yooooooooo your Marriage is so Chaotic and Unusual that you make him For once want to be a responsible person. Your antics are so unpredictable that even The monk doesn't know your next mood. And you have stun people with your Screeching and it was funny until it happened to him. And more weird things have happened around you such as stretching your limbs, you bing able to manifest out of thin air and warp and mutilate demons from a distance. You love scaring both Pigsy and Sandy but you love Wukong and Fruity. But There is very dark thing about you and it worries the monk even after the journey.
Tumblr media
(HIB Wukong) You....You are a terrible influence to both Luier and Silly girl Especially Silly girl. Silly girl screeches alot thanks to you and Luier is asking even more questions then ever with every Chaotic phenomena and he has to find some way to deal with it. But on the bright side You care very much for him and the kids but he always finds some interesting about you and it frightens and enlightens him.
Tumblr media
(NR Wukong) Chaos Chaos CHAOS PEOPLE🤯🤯🤯. Wukong is tamed compared to you. From your Random Screeching to you weird quirks and abilities to the crazy sh*t you say and ask and do. He loves it but it slowly starts to disturb him because you seem to be unaware of what you can do and of what happens around you. And he if starts to get Careful and cautious of you well.... that's when Li and Su become alarmed by you as well.
Tumblr media
(Netflix Wukong) He can match your energy like a puzzle piece. He quickly learns that you love to play games and are quite the free spirit and the best part is you never judge him on what he says and do. In fact you totally encourage it but Lin quickly points out our rather unusual life. We of course never give her a Straight answer on to what's going on but she's worried and a little suspicious of you. But As for Wukong he loves spending every day with you and loves your quirky self Sure he can do without the screeching , but he doesn't want you to ever change.
Tumblr media
46 notes · View notes