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ariadnelives · 17 days

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Dokkaebi Fire - A Short Story

Author's Note: The bulk of this story takes place during the events of "Force Majeure," directly between chapters 8 and 9, during the crew's time in hiding in Xiagu. It is not intended to be read in sequence. If you'd like to catch up on the series so far, you can do so on ao3 or tumblr.

“Cookie?” Pilar called into the flat as she entered, not waiting to be let in. “It's me today. Ariadne's making final preparations for her surgery tomorrow, but she'll be by as soon as she's back on her feet.”

Aoibheann sat on the armchair in the living room, pointed at the television which appeared to be carrying a local news broadcast from one of Saturn's other moons. She had a blanket draped over her lap, and she watched the news broadcast idly, taking in none of it.

“Remember, starting tomorrow, Ariadne won't remember anything beyond the six-month point in our stay here, and we have to keep it that way, so, be careful what you say around her.” Pilar laughed without joy.

Aoibheann did not.

“You know,” Pilar tacked on, “I'm a complete liar. You could dime out the whole plan and I'm pretty sure me and Ari would absolutely leap for joy as long as it meant you were talking again.”

Aoibheann glanced over at Pilar wistfully, dark circles under her eyes, but said nothing. These little responses indicated their old friend could still hear them in there, that they could get through to her, even if she couldn't muster the strength to respond. She'd barely spoken since they lost the station. She was usually a tightly-wound powder keg, full of fire and passion, and she had to direct it towards her purpose or else she’d explode. Now, it was like all that fire inside her had gone out, and all that was left of her was an exhausted shell of a woman.

She seemed able to move around on her own, but rarely found the motivation to do so. She had grown somewhat thin and gaunt, as she only ate when fed, so every day, Pilar or Ariadne or one of her apprentices would stop by to see her and make sure she ate. Sasha had been spreading herself far too thin on Ariadne's project, but still found time to check in on her and monitor her physical health. Her apprentices had removed all sharp objects, belts, and shoelaces from the premises, but Pilar thought that was overkill. She had known Aoibheann long enough to know she would never physically harm herself. Still, it didn't make it easy to watch her torture herself like this.

Pilar sat next to her, and gently took her hand.

“I hate having to feed you this stuff, Cookie,” she said, opening up a small gray package she'd brought with her. “Replicated MREs. No wonder Baltimore and Beam went to a convenience store twice a week when they were in the army.”

Aoibheann looked with disdain at the lump of meat before her, served with a mush that could only be described as “prepared grain.” She hated eating it as much as Pilar hated serving it to her.

In their small hidden town of Xiagu, all of the food came out of the replicators. Xiagu had a surplus of energy, with its passive solar collection and years of nobody to use the stored power, so nobody was worried about the expenditure of creating food and water from reserves.

Back on the station, they had only managed to earmark power for replicator use two years previously. Like most spacecraft, all of the water fixtures were powered by replicators, generating as much water as needed from a stored bank of energy, which was in turn refilled by a device in the drains which converted waste-water into energy. The food replicator could make prepared meals, but crew members would only be allowed to use it if they could make up the energy cost. This happened pretty naturally, as everybody had to use the bathroom regularly and could credit this to their account, and had the handy benefit of encouraging people to clean up after themselves-- every time you emptied your trash into the energy-reclamation chute, you added replicator energy to your canteen account.

However, back home, most people didn't bother to use the replicators, because truly, Cookie's food was better fresh than anything they could produce, and she loved making it. Here in Xiagu, however, the replicators had nothing but military-grade “Meals Ready to Eat” and raw ingredients programmed into them. When the town was alive, there had been gardens to produce the vegetables, and people to tend them, harvest them, and cook them in the many small restaurants. Now, all that was left was replicators.

Cookie's star apprentice, Yellow, had been put in charge of the replicators while Cookie was indisposed, and had very few requests for anything other than the prepared MREs since they'd been there. Everyone on the crew was required to learn to cook, from Cookie, and nobody particularly felt up to trying to fill her shoes. Everyone had pretty much accepted meals of nondescript lumps of meat, vegetables, and starches on the firm belief that any day now, Cookie would be back on her feet, doing what she loved.

Yellow was the one in charge of food distribution, and had desperately been asking Ariadne to authorize them to reopen Cookie's kitchen, with her at the helm, until Cookie was well enough to resume her post. It's what Cookie would want, she insisted, but Ariadne was taking Cookie's condition unusually poorly, and had refused to allow the kitchen to operate without Cookie present. Yellow was frustrated, but understood. Nobody would feel right about having communal meals like before without Cookie.

Pilar carefully cut up the packaged meal and fed bites to Cookie, who halfheartedly complied with each bite. She offered her a cup of tea, which Cookie held for warmth but wouldn't drink without prompting.

“Look, Aoibheann...” Pilar said, “I know you're not well. I know this has been harder on you than anyone.”

Cookie met her gaze.

“But I don't...” Pilar began, and choked. “I don't think Ariadne will go through with this with you in this condition. She cares about you too much. You know what you mean to her. To me. She's not going to put herself at risk until she knows you're okay.”

Aoibheann looked downcast.

“She needs you,” Pilar whispered. “I need you. Please come back to us.”

****

Aoibheann's mind drifted back to when she’d met Ariadne and Pilar, thirteen years previously. She had been living on the streets for two years and had only passing contact with Pilar. She had been homeless since the Hanguk-Éire massacre, when Susan Weaver’s bombs had incinerated her family’s house and restaurant, left her and her mother destitute, and claimed her father’s life. Her mother had turned to drugs to cope with the loss, and ultimately found herself bleeding out in the gutter after an altercation with a pusher who she couldn’t pay for her latest fix.

She had distrusted the new girl at first. In her experience, another new person living under the overpass was another person who might get to the good scraps before her. She didn’t need any more competition. There was, however, a certain unspoken respect between her and the Aguilar girls. They were the only kids living on the streets of that particular block, and they had to look out for one another. They didn’t talk much, but they had struck up an arrangement. Pilar needed to go foraging to keep Sasha fed, and knowing that she would have to dig through trash bins and steal from loosely-guarded shops to make this happen, she felt it was too dangerous to bring her nine-year-old sister along with her.

So, she struck up an arrangement with Aoibheann: if she kept Sasha safe while she went out on runs, Pilar would try and steal a little extra food so Aoibheann could eat as well. Pilar and Sasha had been squatting in an abandoned house on a nearby side-street, and Aoibheann could crash there in exchange for keeping an eye on Sasha. It was shelter, and food, and it was a better deal than she was getting anywhere else. Under normal circumstances, Aoibheann would’ve developed a mighty crush on Pilar, but crushes were the sorts of things normal girls got to have. Aoibheann needed to focus on staying alive.

The new girl had been Racquel when they met. She had been raving about how the world was going to end, a secret conspiracy to reign atomic hellfire onto the bio-domes. It was the standard fare of the doomsaying lunatic, so nobody paid her much mind, but she’d named Ramos and Ramos specifically in her raving, and that caught Pilar’s attention. Nobody hated the Ramoses like Pilar, although Aoibheann didn’t yet know why.

So, Pilar and Racquel started going out on runs together. Suddenly, they were bringing back more than enough food, not only for the four of them, but they even got to share it with the others under the bridge. One day, they came home clean, wearing fresh clothes, and carrying a bundle of new clothes under their arm. They told her that Racquel’s name was Ariadne now, and that they would be needing her help a lot more often. They’d found some sort of mentor, who would “get them out of here,” but they’d need to spend hours, even days, with her at a time.

Aoibheann wasn’t a fool. She knew that if they succeeded in getting out of here, that she would be left behind. She couldn’t, however, risk being thrown out on the street. She’d watch Sasha and crash on the floor of this abandoned townhouse as long as they’d let her.

Sasha seemed like such a little kid then, although Aoibheann knew on a logical level that she was only three years older.

“If you could be anything in the world when you grow up,” Sasha had asked her one day, while the other girls had been away at their mysterious mentor’s for a few days, “what would you be?”

“I’m just trying to grow up,” Aoibheann said, “if I can make it that far, I’ll see what I can get.”

Sasha scrunched her nose. “You’re not playing the game right.”

“I’m being realistic,” Aoibheann said.

Sasha breezed past this. “I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

Aoibheann considered pointing out that Sasha had a third-grade education and no money, but thought better of it, and instead just sighed. “Well, it’d be a crying shame if you starved to death before then,” she said. “Let’s see what your sister left us.”

Aoibheann looked at the handful of scraps Pilar had left on the table. Pilar had stolen them an entire rotisserie chicken, which Aoibheann had admonished her for-- the abandoned house did not have a working refrigerator, she pointed out, so she’d have to use the meats straightaway or they would quickly spoil and attract flies-- and several cans of diced white potatoes, which Pilar figured would keep Sasha’s stomach full, but Aoibheann pointed out had very little nutritional value. This was, of course, in addition to the six chocolate bars Pilar had, being thirteen years old, been sure to nab on her little excursion.

Aoibheann had nothing in the way of seasonings, except for a variety of salt and pepper packets she’d taken from a loosely-supervised outdoor seating area at a nearby restaurant, as well as, on one extremely lucky day, three sets of cheap silverware and a bottle of hot sauce.

She did, however, have access to a small metal trash can with a lid, water from a neighbor’s hose spigot-- Aoibheann felt bad about this, because water was so tightly regulated on Mars and the owner would surely be steeply charged for the waste, but this was a low priority compared to their survival-- and an old gas stove that the new girl had rigged up to illegally supply them with heat.

Aoibheann had cut the meat off the bones of the rotisserie chicken and plopped the bones into the cold water with all the fat and gristle, and opened up a few of the salt packets into the mixture. She put it on the stove and let it heat up to a boil, then turned down the gas and watched as the mixture turned a translucent yellow. She eventually fished out the bones with her knife, and dumped all the potatoes, and the meat from the chicken, into the broth.

After it had stewed for a while, Aoibheann took a taste. It was thin, watery, and somewhat bland, but it would do for the time being. Using the now-empty potato cans, she scooped out two servings of soup and handed one to Sasha.

“Now, we just have to keep it just hot enough,” Aoibheann said, “and it won’t go bad. We’ll be able to eat this until your sister gets back.”

Sasha took a taste. “It’s…” she had been taught, if she had nothing nice to say, to say nothing at all, so she didn’t finish her sentence. Aoibheann had spent enough time with her to know what she meant.

“It’s a tick bland like this,” Aoibheann shrugged, passing her the hot sauce. “Give it a dash of this, it’ll be a sight better.”

Sasha complied, tasted it, and her face made it clear that while it was in fact a sight better, it still wasn’t quite tasty.

“My mom used to make potatoes with a cheesy sauce,” Sasha said sadly. “They were really spicy. Pilar’s favorite food.”

“My dad was more of a cabbage man,” Aoibheann said. “My mom handled the meats, him the veggies. Hanguk-Éire cuisine is… all about things coming together in the pot.”

Sasha added a little more hot sauce to her soup.

“I wanted to be a cook,” Aoibheann said. “Like my folks, before, all this. My dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. And so on and so on, all the way back to our homelands.”

“You could still be a cook,” Sasha said, eyeing her soup. “...someday.”

“Well, we’ll have to get your sister to scrounge us up some quality ingredients, then, won’t we?” Aoibheann said.

The two of them finished their soup, and Aoibheann noted that it was getting late, and insisted that Sasha go to bed. Sasha refused without a story, and Aoibheann tossed back a “tough titties” which was met with an infuriatingly irresistible pout.

“FINE,” Aoibheann groaned, and improvised a story.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom,” Aoibheann began. This was how all her stories began, they all took place in this kingdom. “The kingdom, you see, had been through every horror you could put a kingdom through. It had been invaded. It had been burned. It had been taken over and torn in half and put back together again more times than you could count. Every evil overlord you could name had taken the place over, at one time or another. So the people in the kingdom, they were always sad, and they started to wonder, would they ever be free? And then, one day, they found out, there was another kingdom, just like them, halfway round the world, and they decided to join forces. But then, after a few decades of unity and prosperity, the entire world fell into darkness, and the people of the two kingdoms had to run. They ran far away, and found a new promised land in the desert, and built a home there.”

“Then, one day, in the new kingdom, there was a little girl who lived in a little house with her ma’ and her da’, and she loved her life. The dark creature from the old world, it caught up with them. It took her da’, and burned down her house, and she and her mother had to go out into the woods.”

Sasha looked scared. “The woods?”

“Aye,” Aoibheann said, “and her mother dear didn’t last long. There were these flares of Dokkaebi Fire, the goblin lights, and mother dear thought surely she could follow them to safety… Pretty soon, the little girl was all on her own.”

“I don’t like this story,” Sasha said, trying not to betray how frightened she was.

Aoibheann sighed. “Neither do I. But see, the story has a happy ending.”

“Happy?” Sasha asked.

“Happy enough,” Aoibheann replied, “for now. See, the little girl knew not to follow the goblin lights. She ran into the dark, and there she found… a brave, dashing adventurer. A gorgeous girl, noble and good, who’d been lost in the woods herself.”

Sasha’s eyes brightened at this. “Did she have a sword?”

“A little one, aye,” Aoibheann laughed. “And she was on a quest, to find a way out of the woods. But the problem was, she had to look after a sweet, wee little baby, and couldn’t leave it long enough to make any real progress. So the little girl, she’d faced all the darkness in the world. She could handle a wee little baby! She agreed to take care of the baby while the adventurer looked for a way to save herself and the little one.”

“Did she find a way out?”

“Someday she will,” Aoibheann said, “but all she found so far was… a sorceress.”

“This story has everything,” Sasha said.

“The sorceress was as beautiful as the adventurer, and sharp as a tack, but she was untrained. Powerful magic, but she didn’t know how to use it.” Aoibheann explained, “so, together, they managed to track down the Baba Yaga, a wise but crafty old witch, who could teach the sorceress and adventurer how to find the way.”

“And the little girl?” Sasha asked.

Aoibheann thought about this. “The little girl gets to spend time with the sorceress, and the adventurer, and that sweet wee little baby,” she said, “and she appreciates the time she has with them. Someday, they’ll find their way out, and she’ll still be in the woods, but she’ll always be glad to have met them. The end.”

Sasha crinkled her nose. “That’s a bad ending,” Sasha said bluntly. “The little girl should just leave the woods with them. Then find the creature that took her house, and kill it.”

“And how’s she gonna do that?” Aoibheann laughed.

“The adventurer and the sorceress will help her!” Sasha said. “Maybe the Baby Yaga can tell her some spells!”

“Baba Yaga,” Aoibheann corrected. “Okay, so say she does. Say she tells the adventurer and the sorceress everything that happened, and they go slay the evil creature. What happens next?”

Sasha thought about this. “Maybe they fight another creature,” she said. “An octopus?”

“Why are they fighting an octopus?” Aoibheann asked, still chuckling.

“It’s guarding a treasure,” Sasha said as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “You have heard a story before, right?”

“Fair enough,” Aoibheann said. “And then, say, they beat all the creatures. What then?”

“Happily ever after,” Sasha said triumphantly.

“Well, you’re a sight more deft at this than I am,” Aoibheann said. “Let’s get you to sleep, I’ll do better next time.”

Aoibheann swaddled Sasha in the dirty, tattered blanket that they’d found a few weeks earlier, sat out in the hallway, and began to cry.

In the present day, Aoibheann thought back to her sobbing in the hallway. At the time, she was convinced that Ariadne and Pilar would surely abandon her when they finished training with Blue. When they started building their first spacecraft in an alley under the bridge, she’d defended it from thieves and scrappers at knifepoint, even thinking that they would use it to leave her behind. When, against all odds, Ariadne had built a spaceworthy craft, she was stunned into silence when they invited her along.

“Don’t be dumb,” Pilar had said, extending a hand to her “of course we’re taking you with us. We started this crew to keep Sasha fed. How are we gonna do that without a cook?”

And so, Cookie had been born. As the goblin lights lit the way to ruin, Pilar’s hand pulled her onto the right path.

****

Now, Pilar’s hand was busy cutting up bites of nondescript meat and placing them into Aoibheann’s mouth.

“Do you remember… back in our street urchin days,” Pilar asked, “Me and Ariadne would come home from Blue’s, put Sasha to bed, and then you, me, and her would stay up late gossiping. We’d show you all the cool stuff Blue had taught us in our lessons, and you’d take the ingredients we’d stolen for you-- better ones, after you started giving me lists-- and you’d teach us how to cook like you.”

Aoibheann almost smiled, and Pilar saw it.

“Alright, you’re right,” Pilar said, cutting her another bite and placing it in her mouth. “Nobody can cook like you. Don’t let it go to your head. But you taught us to cook better than most people.”

Aoibheann accepted another bite wordlessly.

“You know, Ariadne used to use Blue’s tricks to fix up that abandoned house, Alan’s house, and I used to show you all the martial arts tricks, and you’d be rapt with attention,” Pilar said. “When me and Ari started dating, we had a friendly debate about it. See, I thought you had a crush on her, and she thought you had a crush on me. Joke’s on us, turns out you were more than capable of having both.”

Aoibheann came close to smiling again.

“Funny, that’s a fond memory now. Back then, it was the worst year of our life,” Pilar said. “Wonder what we’ll remember fondly from now, when we’re older.”

Aoibheann’s fractional smile faded away. She couldn’t imagine anything worth cherishing from this time. But then, she couldn’t back then, either.

“And we don’t have to talk about…” Pilar cut herself off. “I mean, the… what we’ve had together… The unspoken closeness between the three of us. Rare as it might be that we’ve acted on it, it’s still special to me. To us.The problem has never been that we don’t feel about you, the way you feel about us. If you wanted... what’s between the three of us... to be more, it’d be yours in a heartbeat.”

Aoibheann looked down at her lap.

“We’ve always loved you, Cookie,” she explained. “And don’t get twisted up on the definitions. Every sense of the word. Whatever you’re thinking I surely can’t mean… I mean it. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I just hate to think that… I mean… we’re going into the most dangerous time we’ve ever faced. If something happens, to me or to Ari… I just want to know you know what you mean to us. To me.”

Pilar gave her another bite, and Aoibheann didn’t fight her on it.

“Do you remember our wedding?” Pilar asked, and laughed. “Of course you do. Hard to forget something like that. Do you remember how angry you were that we wouldn’t let you cook us a grand feast?”

There was a spark in her eyes that demonstrated that she had not, in fact, entirely let this go.

“We stole the supplies for hamburgers from a local grocery store, and made Beam cook them,” Pilar said. “We actually almost got caught, pulled over for speeding on the way home. Ariadne told the cop her name was Ariadne Baltimore. Small town, local cops, everybody knew their parents, they figured they’d just miscounted the sisters, and let her go. Idiots.”

Pilar sighed.

“You weren’t allowed to cook because Ariadne needed you by her side,” she explained. “You were her maid of honor for a reason, Cookie. Our crew, our marriage, our family… where would we be without you? Would we even be us?”

Pilar offered Aoibheann another bite, and she didn’t take it. Pilar looked concerned. She hadn’t eaten nearly enough to be satisfied yet.

“What is it?” Pilar asked.

Aoibheann opened her mouth, thought hard, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was trying to make sense of something she couldn’t put words to.

“Aoibheann, are you… are you alright?” Pilar asked. “Should I get Sasha?”

Aoibheann shook her head vigorously. She had been lost in her depression for months, wondering if she was really better off waking up in the morning, but suddenly, the floodgates had come open, and she couldn’t wait one more second to let out what had been eating at her and destroying her soul ever since they’d lost the station.

Her voice was dry and raspy. She had not spoken more than two consecutive words in weeks, and her body vehemently protested the sudden change in this policy.

“Was it my fault?” She asked, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with their tormentor years ago. “Did I do this to us?”

****

“Excellent work today, everyone,” Cookie’s voice boomed through the kitchen. “The festivities went off without a hitch. This is an anniversary our captain won’t soon forget.”

“Thank you, Chef,” her crew echoed back.

“Dismissed,” she said to the assembled kitchen staff, and then quietly approached one of the greener pirates who’d recently started the galley rotation that was mandatory for the whole crew. “Libby, a word?”

Cookie ushered Libby into a small room at the back, which she used for prep when she was working on more intimate, personal projects. This was the room where she prepared birthday meals for Spacebreather, Ariadne, and Sasha. This was the table on which she’d painstakingly crafted Ariadne and Pilar’s wedding cake. The small walk-in freezer was the one where she’d had a brief, clumsy tryst with Blue on a rare visit to the station, after Cookie had enraged her by challenging her to a contest to see who could make a better mole negro oaxaqueño sauce, and then winning it.

Libby had been invited into the inner sanctum, and the look on Cookie’s face made it absolutely clear that it was not an honor.She was in deep trouble. Worse still, there was a salt shaker on the table in front of her.

“Do you think this is funny, lass?” Cookie asked. “Is this a fun game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chef,” Libby said, actually looking somewhat convincing.

“The cap of the salt shaker was unscrewed. One shake, and dinner would’ve been ruined.” Cookie said. “It was your responsibility to set the table in the captain’s quarters.”

Libby got immediately defensive. “Anybody could’ve done that,” she said, “I didn’t do it, it’s totally unfair that you--”

“Anybody could’ve,” Cookie said. “But I gave you a responsibility. You were responsible for the Captain’s table. You signed off on a table with an unscrewed salt shaker on it. That makes you responsible for the salt shaker, whether you placed it there or not.”

“How is that fair?” Libby replied indignantly.

“Lass, why do you think Ariadne requires all crew to complete a rotation in my kitchen before they’re cleared for field service?” Cookie asked.

“She needs someone to cook for her?” Libby asked derisively.

Cookie sneered. She did not care for Libby, and never had. The girl seemed to attract drama. How, she wondered, could someone with so few friends be so perpetually in the middle of a falling out with a group of them? “And why do you think my standards are so meticulous?” Cookie asked.

Libby declined to answer, because she knew her honest answer would get her in trouble, but her face betrayed what she wanted to say: “Because you’re a huge bitch?”

Cookie answered her own rhetorical questions. “The skills you need to be successful in here, will be invaluable to you out there. You didn’t go over your loadout with a fine-toothed comb. You didn’t take the responsibilities you were trusted with seriously. You allowed your crewmates to operate with faulty equipment, that, had I not intervened, would’ve caused the mission objective to fail.”

“To be clear,” Libby said, “the ‘mission’ was serving them dinner.”

“IN HERE IT’S DINNER,” Cookie bellowed, her eyes full of all the rage and fire that she kept tamped down in her heart every second of every day, and slammed her fists on the table, knocking down the salt shaker. The chrome lid clattered off, and salt spilled onto the teak countertop. Cookie wordlessly grabbed a pinch of it and tossed it over her left shoulder. “In here, you fail in your duties and it means dinner isn’t very good that night. Out there, you fail in your duties and your sisters in arms die. That’s why Ariadne makes you work with me before you’re allowed to work for her. You can’t be trusted to handle the stakes out there if your team, and your commanding officer, can’t even trust you to do your job correctly when the stakes are only whether tonight’s chicken will be a little dry. Is that crystal clear?”

Libby looked as though she was about to protest, or accuse Cookie of being melodramatic, but Cookie cut her off. “Think very carefully about what you say next,” she said, “and if you’re lost as to what answer I’m looking for...” She pointed at the band that she kept tied around her head, so that even if one of her brilliant red hairs slipped out of its tight bun, it would still not fall into her face. It was white, and said, in bold black text, “YES CHEF.”

Libby grumbled. “Yes, chef,” she said. “next time, I’ll check the table settings more carefully.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cookie said. “But I think it’s important that you know… I know you put the shaker on the table.”

“What?!” Libby snapped.

“If the Captain, or her first mate, were to be poisoned, I would need to be able to verify who’d done the deed.” Cookie said. “Every step of my meal preparation is accounted for. There is a record of every action taken in this kitchen, cupboard-to-table. If something goes wrong with a meal, within seconds I will be able to identify the point of failure and exactly who was responsible for preventing it. Of course, it helps to have a private video feed into the captain’s quarters.”

Cookie tossed her communications device onto the table, and hit play. It projected a small, but surprisingly clear, hologram of Libby setting the table, smirking as though struck with an idea, and unscrewing the cap of the salt shaker.

“You have… a security camera… in their quarters?!” Libby asked.

“I’m the only person in the system they trust with it,” Cookie said. “I trust them with my life, and they trust me with theirs. Now, I gave you a chance to confess to your little prank, and you decided to lie, to pass the buck onto someone else. I’m afraid I can’t let that slide. I’ll have to fail you for this rotation. Come back at the start of the next one and you can reapply.”

“What?!” Libby snapped again. “I’m two days away from finishing! I have to start my galley rotation over again just because you caught me playing a harmless prank on your little pervy peep-show?”

“Call it pervy if you like,” Cookie said dismissively. “The nature of my relationship with the captain and her first mate is enthusiastically sanctioned and is, frankly, none of your concern. The behavior you showed in here, would’ve only spoiled Captain Ariadne’s dinner. If you showed the same level of carelessness and irreverence out there, it might’ve gotten someone killed. ‘Harmless’ indeed. You’re not responsible enough for field work until you can prove you can handle kitchen duty.”

“This is bullshit,” Libby said, gathering up her things to storm out of the room. “Like it even matters whether that bitch’s little dinner is ruined.”

Cookie slammed her fists on the counter again.

“Captain Ariadne is the greatest woman who ever lived,” Cookie growled, “and if I hear you speak of her like that in my presence again, you’ll lose a hell of a lot more than your galley rotation.”

Libby moved to storm out, but Cookie rushed the door and held it shut.

“Now, you listen to me, you little twerp,” Cookie said, jabbing a finger into Libby’s chest, shaking with anger. “That woman pulled me out of the gutter-- pulled all of us out of the gutter. There is nothing more important than the work she does, and we are the beating heart that allows her to do it. So if you want to be a part of this crew, you’ll show her some goddamned respect and start taking your work fucking seriously.”

Libby looked furious.

“What do I want to hear?” Cookie asked pointedly.

Pilar was astonished. “You think… because you were hard on the Nameless in her galley rotation… that she went totally off the rails, tried to kill us, and drove us out of our home?”

“Yes, chef,” Libby grumbled after a beat, and Cookie allowed her to pass.

****

“She tried to say we were like a cult,” Cookie said weakly. “That we were just minions blindly following Ariadne’s orders. That we turned against anybody who didn’t fall in line.”

“Is any of that true?” Pilar asked rhetorically. “Does the crew actually act like that?”

Cookie let the tears come. “I do,” she said. “What if she… how do I know she isn’t holding my devotion, my zeal, against the entire crew?”

“You… blindly follow Ariadne’s orders?” Pilar asked, entirely rhetorically. “That’s a surprise, I thought you really believed in our mission.”

Cookie was taken aback. “I do!’

Pilar smiled. “There’s some of that fire,” she said. “I’ve missed it. Aoibheann… when is the last time Ariadne actually gave you an order?”

Cookie had to think about this, but came up short.

“Exactly,” Pilar said. “This is what’s been eating you, all this time?”

Aoibheann looked afraid to reply, so she just asked what she’d wanted to ask, ever since they were driven out of their home.

“Do you forgive me?” She asked. “Does she… does she forgive me?”

Pilar looked Aoibheann square in the eyes. “Cookie, you’ve never needed our forgiveness. An insane terrorist attacked our home. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent that.”

This was not what Aoibheann wanted to hear.

Pilar sighed. “Of course we forgive you, Aoibheann,” she said in a voice that sounded entirely earnest, but using words that betrayed how sarcastic she was being: “for not allowing someone who turned out to be a sexual predator and an actual serial killer tamper with our food and ruin our anniversary. We forgive you for being the most devoted friend we’ve ever had. Because someone else mistreated us, it must’ve been wrong that you treated us right. We will always forgive you for loving us, Aoibheann. You will never lose our forgiveness for that.”

Aoibheann was struck speechless again.

“Don’t go quiet on me,” Pilar said affectionately, “I just got you to talk again! I’ve missed your voice.”

“I appreciate your taking care of me,” Cookie admitted, “while I’ve been… not myself.”

Pilar gently put her hand on Aoibheann’s, and gave it a squeeze, and then told her the most reassuring truth she had.

“The Nameless is a user,” she said. “She wants a bunch of people who act like puppets and put her well-being first. Ariadne spends every second of every day encouraging her crew to think and act for themselves, and to put each other’s well-being above all else. That’s why she thinks Ariadne’s a tyrant. Not because you defended her honor after a sociopath tried to ruin her anniversary and then called her a bitch.”

Aoibheann felt as though she’d just received absolution for something that had been dragging her through the muck for months. How could she not believe Pilar, of all people? She began to cry openly.

“Hey, hey,” Pilar said, “it’s okay! I got you.”

“I’ve let the crew down,” she said, “had them eating this flavorless mush for however many months. I’ll be back at a stove first thing in the morning, don’t you worry--”

Pilar laughed. “Aoibheann… Cookie, I’m glad you’re back but… don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Let your apprentices handle it for a bit. Besides, you haven’t walked by yourself in a pretty long time. It’ll take a bit before you’re seaworthy again, let alone fit to run a kitchen.”

Aoibheann looked downcast. “Well, I’ve spent enough time sitting around like a lump being no good to anybody,” she said indignantly.

“You’re plenty good to us,” Pilar said flatly, “just by being here. We love you, Cookie. You don’t need to… justify your existence by being a devoted servant.”

Aoibheann was uncomfortable with this sentiment, and it showed on her face. This was, after all, how she showed her affection for Ariadne and Pilar. How could she show them her love and devotion without being able to cook for them?

“I don’t know how to…” Cookie began. “Please… Please, just… tell me what to do.”

Pilar sighed. She knew Cookie was far too devoted to her duties to go completely without orders. “She and I will be back in a few hours, for dinner. Let her hear your voice. Tell her you love her, and wish her luck on her procedure. If you have the strength, give her a hug. And, most importantly, just… please, be okay. Be kind to yourself and take all the time you need to get back on your feet. We’ve only got the one Cookie, so take care of her for us, okay?”

Cookie smiled, and squeezed Pilar’s hand back with what little strength she could muster.

Pilar picked up the now-empty tray that the MRE had been on. “Now that you’re back, do I have your permission to start up the kitchens? Let your apprentices do some real cooking?”

Cookie nodded her head.

“Then I guess this is truly an event worth of celebration: you’ve had your last Meal-Ready-To-Eat,” Pilar laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Cookie. I want to put some meat back on your bones, so I’ll be cooking, and I expect you to be looking over my shoulder and barking orders at me the whole time.”

Cookie looked at her and smiled, and Pilar’s heart melted. It had been a long time since anyone had seen that.

****

Cookie’s apprentices stood in a straight line at the back of the Hotpot Spot, an abandoned restaurant that Sweettalk had identified as her childhood favorite. Cookie, wearing the chef’s coat she’d fled the station in, freshly laundered, and her trademark “YES CHEF” headband, limped into the restaurant, supported by a cane that Sweettalk had fished out of her childhood home, and said had belonged to her grandfather.

Cookie was still not back to full strength, but her apprentices could see the fire they’d come to fear and love had returned to her eyes.

“As you may have noticed,” Cookie announced, the natural loudness of her voice undiminished by her time indisposed, “I have been… unwell, of late. As such, I am unable to resume my duties at this time.”

Her staff turned to her chief apprentice, Yellow, for guidance. Yellow remained silent, so the rest of them did as well.

“It’s alright, kids,” she said, stamping the cane on the ground loudly. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m not my old self yet. It’s fine. I wouldn’t feel right resuming my post here anyhow. This isn’t my kitchen. I’ve called you all here because you are the apprentices most equipped to run a kitchen of your own.”

Yellow nodded in assent.

“As such, I have a new directive for each of you, until such time as we’ve retrieved my kitchen, and I’m back to my usual vim and vigor, each of you is to select one of the defunct restaurants in this town, take your pick of the remaining staff and any available volunteers, and you will run your kitchens to the standard I have taught you.”

Cookie sighed.

“I know what you all think,” she said. “I know what you’ve said to me, in the past. You think your best is only a pale imitation of my cooking. But I need you all to know that… isn’t true.”

“Chef?” Yellow asked.

“I was the fourth person on this crew, lass,” Cookie said. “The first person to join, after the founding members. At the beginning, we had one mission: Keep Sasha Fed. There is nothing I value more highly than that mission. I live for it, and if I’m blessed with the chance, I will happily die for it. We may have expanded the definition of ‘Sasha’ to include everyone we love, but this mission is and will always be my life’s labor. Food doesn’t just sustain us. It is love, in physical form. The Captain and the First Mate have been very gracious to me, in the time we’ve known each other, by allowing me to show them my love and devotion in the way I’m able to offer. Over the last nine months, they have shown me the devotion was not one-sided, and given me the love I was able to accept. So your mission is, as it always has been: get in the kitchen, and show your love to the crew. Fill their bowls with it, in the way only you can, with or without me. And when your cup is empty…”

Cookie choked up a bit, and did a halfway decent job masking it.

“...When your cup is empty, allow those who love you to fill it back up, until you’re ready to pour from it again.”

After a long, uncomfortable beat, her crew shouted back “Yes, Chef!”

“I have been derelict in my duties,” Cookie said. “I let you go this many months without loving one another properly, because you wouldn’t do it without me.”

“Chef, permission to speak freely?” One of her younger apprentices, a quiet young boy who specialized in pastries, piped up.

“Granted,” Cookie said.

“You never ordered us not to run the kitchens without you. In fact, before…” He paused carefully, then opted to leave it unsaid, “before, you always taught us how to take the lead for the rest of the crew, when you had to cook for the Captain’s table. We wouldn’t run the kitchens without your say-so because…”

“It’s okay, lad, no need to be scared of the likes of me,” she reassured him.

“We were ordered not to,” he told her. “The Captain was very clear: ‘There’s no crew without Cookie.’”

Cookie leaned on her cane and looked a bit sad.

“She couldn’t handle it, Chef,” Yellow explained. “Knowing somebody else was doing your work, while you were suffering the way you were.”

Now Cookie could feel her heart melt. “She said that, did she?”

The young baker boy winced. “She said that there’s nothing more important than the work you do, and that everything the crew does, is just so you can do it,” he said. “She said… well, she said she was derelict in her duty to you, and that she couldn’t replace you until she’d made it right. Until you’d forgiven her for letting you down.”

Cookie laughed. “We’ve known each other a long time, indeed,” she said. “The captain is a sentimental one, I’m afraid. She blames herself for all this. For my condition. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s still more Catholic than she’d like to admit.”

Everyone’s eyes flared at this. Of course none of them would tell her she’d said that, as they all valued keeping their heads attached to their necks too much. Cookie was one of the only people in the system who could get away with saying something like that in front of Ariadne.

“She could never let me down if she tried,” Cookie said, “and even if she did, I will always forgive her. That you can repeat to her. Now, that’s enough prattling on from an old fool. You all have restaurants to open. To work!”

“Yes, Chef!” Her apprentices all shouted, and broke formation to claim their restaurants.

“And remember,” she shouted after them. “If you talk to the Captain, this was her idea!”

She had, in fact, passed her forgiveness along to Ariadne the previous day, before her surgery, and assured her that she didn’t need forgiveness, the same way Pilar had done to her. After her procedure, Ariadne wouldn’t remember Cookie giving her consent to reopen the kitchens, but she was delighted that when she came out of it, she seemingly remembered, on some level, that she had been absolved of all wrongdoing.

She was relieved when, during the fight Alicia staged with her, Ariadne had suggested they put her apprentices to work in the kitchens. Despite being set back several months, she was done punishing herself, and letting everyone else punish themselves with her. It was a do-over many were not fortunate enough to get, and after all she’d lost, Aoibheann was not one to turn her nose up at a second chance.

****

Months later, when all this was over and Sasha’s medicine and a lot of good eating had restored her muscles into mostly proper working order-- she still felt uneasy at times, and preferred to keep the cane on hand, just in case-- they were repatriated to their home, the Nameless had been defeated, and the station had erupted into a celebratory frenzy. Yellow and the kitchen staff had burned the candle at both ends to supply enough party snacks to keep anyone from drowning in all the wine. Two former crew members, Baltimore and Beam, had returned to the station to join in the celebrations. Sweettalk and Sasha had, believing themselves slick, pulled Ghostrunner and her new girlfriend Vigil back to their quarters. Alicia had brought Blue back to the station and, in the haze of wine, loudly announced her intention to start a relationship with her, before disappearing back to her own quarters. Cookie and Blue had, despite their past rivalry, a deep, abiding respect for one another, and Blue was one of the few people who was authorized to do as she pleased in the kitchen. Cookie knew firsthand that after Blue’s enthusiastic and athletic lovemaking, she would likely need something to eat, and a bit more wine, so she’d set a bottle of red and a bowl of fresh mozzarella in conspicuous locations in the hopes that she would find them. Cookie was, uncharacteristically, not in the kitchen that night.

If she had learned anything from the past year, it was that she had to sometimes set the weight of the world down, and allow the people she loved to take care of her as much as she took care of them. So, as had become tradition, once per month, she would retire to the Captain’s quarters instead of her own, and allow her friends to show them how much they loved her. Pilar spent the day marinating meats, just the way Cookie had taught her, and Ariadne had built a heating element into her personal dining table so that Pilar could cook them some of Cookie’s favorite foods.

They would then retire to the bedroom for a night of passion-- Ariadne always had some new device she’d built and wanted to show off. Being married to Spacebreather, she was in the unfortunate position of being a bit of a pillow princess, but not on pillow principle, and so never had anyone else to use it on, and Cookie was the only person other than Ariadne who Spacebreather was willing to touch. They would spend this time laughing, and experimenting, and making sure not an inch of her, or the captain, went unkissed, and then they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, all the while gossiping and reminiscing the way they had back on Mars.

Sometimes, on these nights, Cookie would think back to what Spacebreather said to her, during her episode, about how if she ever wanted something more between them, she could have it.

The thing was, she didn’t want something more. She treasured these nights they had together, but as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed about what they were to her. They were her best friends, and they were her calling in life. She would, to the best of her ability, serve their mission with almost religious zeal. Even unto her death, she would prioritize keeping her loved ones happy and healthy. She had already loved them, more, she believed, than she could ever love anyone else, even when they had started an exclusive relationship with one another, and she was just a heartbroken teenager pining after them both. How could she want something more, when she couldn’t even imagine something better than what she already had?

The first time the three of them had ever fallen into bed together, years after Ariadne and Pilar had made it clear they were soulmates, they had been a ball of teenage hormones, propelled by a raunchy party game that had gotten a bit out of hand. Aoibheann had awoken mortified and furious at herself for daring to succumb to her own desires like this. Her whole life, whenever she’d allowed herself to love something, it was taken away, and that only when she accepted that something was beyond her grasp, would she stand a chance of being lucky enough to attain it. She was sure that by admitting to her wants, and acting on them, she had ruined everything. Except, Ariadne and Pilar noticed her embarrassment and simply chose to behave as though nothing had changed. It had happened only occasionally in the past, and each time, Ariadne and Pilar would wait for Cookie to bring it up. Otherwise, it was completely unspoken.

The one crucial difference was, now, Aoibheann “Cookie” Gyeong, once the saddest girl on Mars, had finally accepted that it was okay to want, and to act on those wants, that this was not following the goblin lights to her death as her mother had. She, who loved her life so much that she shut down for the better part of a year when she feared it had changed irreparably, spent most of her time refusing to acknowledge what she loved about it. She did her job, showed her love, and asked for nothing in return except for the ability to keep doing it.

“You know,” Ariadne said, running her fingers through Aoibheann’s long, smooth, bright red hair, as a sleeping Pilar cradled them both in her arms, “we don’t do any of this for you. We do it because we like doing it. It’s fun for us.”

Cookie laughed. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she quipped.

Ariadne smiled, and told her something she’d waited years to be sure Cookie would be ready to hear. “Thank you,” she said, “for being my friend. For loving me. For making what we do worth it.”

Aoibheann shot a smile right back. “I could say the same to you.”

#core story #lgbt

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fearfulachilles · 3 months

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8. gossip & uncertainty.

chapter eight to buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: you finish the week learning you'll be scribing for the mysterious dr. geto and hearing new gossip regarding kento. meanwhile, kento finished the week with being handed an offer he never thought he'd hear.

The clinic portion of the hospital is only open on weekdays, but Satoru had mentioned he’d like to open it for seven days a week in the future. You hope you’re off in med school when the time comes.

You work with Dr. Gojo again before the week ends. You’re fascinated by neurosurgery and he notices it. He tells you about his favorite surgical case during his fellowship here at Jujutsu Hospital and how he developed his own technique that helps reduce risk during brain surgery by 85%.

“That’s amazing.” You say, starstruck.

Satoru doesn't feel like a boss at times, he's easy to talk to. You ask when was the last time he had to use his technique and he says a year ago, around the time he last performed surgery.

There’s gossip of Satoru’s lack of surgery hours that you’ve heard…well, Nobara heard and told you. Some rumors say it’s because of malpractice and others say it’s because he’s been banned from the operating room by the chief of surgery. Satoru doesn’t hide the fact that he hasn’t been in the operating room in sometime, but he usually brushes it off it with a joke and never explains further.

You bite your lip and take a chance. “Can I ask why it's been so long?”

“You’re kidding, right? I have my hands full with this clinic. Surgery will be there when I’m done.” He answers, then changes the topic quickly after.

That's when Satoru shares information regarding your schedule next week. You’ll be scribing for Dr. Geto.

“He's filling in for me, just for a day. I’ve got some bullshit meeting to go to.” The young doctor explains, rolling his eyes.

When Satoru stopped performing surgery, Dr. Geto took over all his surgical cases, causing his surgery schedule to double. Because of that, Dr. Geto doesn’t have time to be in clinic, other than when Satoru absolutely needs him to be there.

It’ll be an exciting start to your week.

_________

You decided to Google Dr. Geto once you got home. You don’t know much of the physician, not even what he looks like. When pictures of him show up, you were taken back by how pretty Suguru Geto was. Was every doctor in that hospital good looking?

Then something catches your eye.

“Have you guys ever read this article? 'Dr. Satoru Gojo renounces titleship to famous Gojo technique.'” You read aloud to your roommates. “He gave credit to... Suguru Geto? It’s called the Geto technique now.”

“Weird. I wonder why he'd do that.” Yuji commented.

“Maybe he stole it from Dr. Geto and finally got caught.” Nobara speculated. She always loved a scandal or drama that didn't involve her personally. You couldn't blame her, you did too.

“I heard they're close friends, I doubt that happened.” Megumi chimed in.

From your reading you learn that Suguru is also a gift to medicine, similar to Satoru. He was a couple years older and accomplished many things in med school, alongside Satoru, and during his fellowship in a Kyoto hospital.

Nobara decides to bring up some more gossip she's heard, her voice filled with juicy intention of trapping you into the topic. “I heard that Dr. Nanami was left on his wedding day.”

You take the bait.

“He what?” You whip your head around from your phone screen to look at her.

Nobara nods. “Yup. He was getting married to some pharmaceutical rep, but she never showed.”

“That's probably why he looks so grumpy all the time.” Yuji says.

“Where did you hear that from?” You ask intrigued.

“Maki told me. She's the cute nurse I told you about. She used to work there, then she quit, but Dr. Gojo hired her again.” Nobara explains. She met Maki Zenin when she got lost on her way to the cafeteria in the hospital on the very first day. Since then, the two had been texting.

You've never bothered to learn the dating history of your past flings, but this was different. Being engagement and left at the alter are serious. You think, is he using me as a rebound?

You shake off the thought because you're not supposed to care, but you still feel something tugging deep within you. You ignore it.

_________

It had been the slowest week of Kento’s career, mentally. He had back to back surgeries scheduled and he stayed at the hospital until the early morning hours, busy with operative notes, but it had felt long and nearly tedious because you were on his mind.

The week is over and he arrives home tired. He drags himself to his kitchen and looks through his fridge. Kento feels the motivation to cook real food for the first time in a long, long time. He used to cook all the time, having a passion for it and always experimenting with new recipes.

He lost that side of him long ago, the side of him that looked forward to the things in his life and enjoyed them, as if he outgrew happiness. He thought he would never find it again. It had strained his relationship deep enough to be left stranded at an alter he never wanted to be at.

Then he met you, he talked to you, kissed you, and touched you. He saw the vibrant color of your hair, eyes, and body. He tasted your lips and felt your skin on his. It felt like he had been holding his breath for years, waiting for something to come along. Then, you came along. He made you laugh in that bar and thought this is how it feels to breathe again.

His microwavable dinners from the frozen aisle and instant coffee weren't enough to get him by anymore. He missed the spices of his home cooked meals and the richness of his favorite coffee beans. His days weren't dull anymore. He appreciated the rising sun in the sky on his way to work and the sound of chirping birds outside his bedroom window a little more. Your touch brought his senses back.

In the midst of his thoughts of you, he thinks back to when you mention your mother had Cordis Aneurisma, a slow killing disease of the heart and a medical mystery. The only fact known was that it is genetic, primarily in women, with a 50/50 chance of a mother passing it to her daughter.

Kento never really enjoyed taking chances like that. Though, he took one with you.

He had told you he didn't want anything serious, something he'd never done before. He was raised to be a traditional man, primarily by his grandfather. So, he worked towards a good and stable career with a great salary, and he was going to get married and settle down. After being with you, he knows he doesn't want to go return to that, even if it meant breaking his traditional values he was raised with, all for a chance you'll let him stay around for a little longer. He hopes you do.

He cooks something quick and easy for him before he digs up his old med school textbooks and begins searching for anything on Cordis Aneurisma. Two textbooks turn into five, and when his sixth one doesn't have anymore information than the others, he moves his research on to his laptop.

He doesn't hear the knocking on his front door until it's loud enough to bring him out of his thoughts. When he opens it, it's Asami, his ex-fiancée.

She greets him with a smile, but Kento stares blankly at her, blinking his eyes. He didn't expect her to come by today, but she has made it a habit of showing up unannounced, which usually led to them fucking on his couch.

Asami walks past him and makes herself at home, and he doesn't stop her. She places her handbag on his counter and walks further inside.

“Did you just get home from work?” Asami asks.

Kento looks down at his attire to see that he's still wearing his scrubs. He looks over at a clock in his home and realizes it has already been a few hours since he got home. He lost track of time reading up on the genetic illness.

She moves on, not taking notice of Kento’s cooked dinner. Asami was never good at noticing the small things in him. She peeks at all the opened textbooks and then over to what is on his laptop. “Do you have a patient with Cordis Aneurisma? How sad.”

Kento hadn't spoken a word yet. His face had turned back to the one Asami had known very well now, neutral to everything.

“What are you doing here?” Kento finally asks, speaking his first words to her. He dreaded thinking she was going to finally explain herself to him on why she left that day, something they both had been avoiding to acknowledge.

Asami steps her way over to Kento and places her hands on his broad chest. She's smaller than you, he doesn't like it. “I wanted to talk. I miss you.”

I miss you. She said that last time she was here, in the middle of sex. Kento had thought it was just in the moment of bliss, he had hoped it was.

“And I've been thinking about us…getting back together. I-I think we should try again.” Asami continues, sounding eager and unsure all at once. She's fidgeting with her fingers on his chest.

Her words make Kento run cold. He looks down at her face, uncertain of what to say or think. He spots her engagement ring on her finger, she had recently began putting it on again.

“We don't have to talk right now, I just wanted to tell you in person, but I'd like you to think about it.” Asami smiles with her lips closed and with a sense of uncertainty. She can’t read his face, he hardly gives her any sign of what he was thinking.

Asami removes herself from him and grabs her bag from the counter, knocking off the parking ticket Kento had taken from you. She picks it up to place it back, and reminds him, “oh—don't forget to pay that, Kento.”

She comes back to him, slipping her hand into his larger one and pulling him over to his front door once again as she makes her exit. She meant for this to be a quick visit. “You will think about it, right?”

Kento doesn't say anything in return, he just slowly nods at her words. She nods back, taking a chance and tugging him closer, raising herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. He kisses back for a moment, but all he could think about were your lips.

He didn't like comparing women to each other, but the feeling of you still lingers on him. He could only think about how much he would rather kiss you again instead of her. He abruptly breaks the kiss, pulling away, and it leaves Asami taken back.

Words don't need to be exchanged for what she felt as Kento pulled away from her, so she leaves him to think about her offer alone.

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damazcuz · 2 months

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I've only had this account for about 5 years now. But I've been on tumblr for 13 years, since I was 16 and just starting to learn who I was, what transgender meant, what the world looked like at the time for a group I was swiftly realizing included me.

And for 13 years I have consistently used this site and stayed on, occasionally blog hopping when things felt stale or if things got bad. And things got bad sometimes. You'd get people calling you nasty things in your ask or replies or reblogs or tagging your username to sic their followers on you. And tumblr has always treated targeted harassment as a "Sorry you feel that way. That's not against tos though! Was this answer helpful?" issue whenever it's reported. They've never cared against abuse on their website, IN THE EXCEPTION of cases in which radfems and nazis have maliciously mass reported users for MAYBE hitting their breaking points and MAYBE snapping and saying something stupid that could be used as an excuse. Could be something today or four years ago in your archive but at some point, you had a bad day and posted something that could make tumblr say finally, we can get rid of a pest! or you were just transgender and said as much. A little too loudly in front of the wrong mod.

And this sounds so silly to say. But when you live in a website for 13 years and it's where you have your primary interactions with so many people and where you've met so many of your friends! It starts to feel like your community. Like an apartment building we all live in and visit each other's apartments and talk and decorate and laugh and play. And it's a bit of a dump and we all laugh about the crumbling peeling wallpaper and the slumlord that runs the place. We know the landlord isn't our friend, they just want us to pay rent until we're no good for it anymore. Produce the posts that make this site anything more than a hate forum, make the memes and the art and the posts that end up everywhere from your little sister's pinterest to your mom's Facebook to your uncle's meme subreddit. Keep up the garden and don't pile trash on the curb or you're out. This is "the queerest place on the net" only because queer people live here and hung on with our fingernails to stay here because if you have to leave, what's your fallback? You like your neighbors. They can't all come with you. They won't. Even the kind of crumbly parts feel like home after a while.

Like I want to clarify that Tumblr's reputation as a funny place to chill and scroll and meet people and see new things is not from the transphobes working on staff. Their job is to turn a profit or at least keep it LOOKING profitable, so the site can sell to the next moron to buy it out. The fun and joy of Tumblr is us. WE made this place. When you tear down our decorations and rip out our furnishings and toss us out on the street and look at what's left to show the next prospective tenant, it's a fucking dump. There is nothing left but the shittiest people in our neighborhood who are allowed to stay and make hate posts about us. There's the framework for "someone could make pretty posts here! It's a fixer upper!" But it's shit. It sucks.

I've been spiraling since yesterday over a couple of things I'm not taking well. One is work. "They can't fire us all!" I always joke. And people laugh. Last night my boss and I spent an hour and a half in this miserable fucking meeting, talking about the pressure pushing down on our load bearing team. We fantasized over all 8 of us being able to say "that's enough. I'm better than this. We are all walking out today and we will not come back. Don't text." And we can't. None of us can lose the stability of a full time job that pays kind of okay even though it's killing you. None of us can face that uncerainty. I left with chest pain. It was my first day back after major surgery. I went home and sat in one spot for over six hours almost unmoving, crying and just in disbelief of how unfair it is. We can't leave. But something has to give before my team dissolves and one of us puts a gun in their mouth. And then we all still have to make our shift. Who else will do all that? Who's going to cover, huh? Clock in.

And I spent the rest of my day, which ran to 4 am before I was able to sleep, wishing I could quit and hating what's happening on tumblr just as much. On a fucking blogging platform. Because this has been my fun sandbox for over a decade and it's always kind of sucked, it's full of cat shit and people throw sand at you and you're getting sunburned but it's fun here. You find your people to play with. And then it's like you remember oh yeah, other people here want me dead. The owner of this place wants me to die. He wants everyone that makes this place cool and fun to die. And he'll turn around and say "yeeeah well you shouldn't have joked about being mean to me." And it's like why am I here! Why am I making posts for YOU?

I can't leave employment. I'm only a couple of weeks, maybe a couple months away from homelessness at any given time, with how tight finances are. "Shoestring budget" would be generous. We're making it through sheer force of will. But I can't quit my job, and neither can anyone else.

But I can leave this place that I've hated and loved for so, so long. The other massive drain on my life that wants to see me shrivel and die. I can get up and go. We could all just go. Mass exodus. And I know it won't happen. Give it a week, ten days. People move along. Yeah, that sucked. Well, here we all still are. Still posting. Still tumbling. Still complaining about the landlord. But most people won't leave. How can you walk on your friends and community, knowing they won't all follow? But how do you continue to stay here watching this happen? I'm already listening to people tell me "so? that doesn't affect me. it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. and of course this happened, duhhhh." It's like, feel stupid for getting comfortable here. You should feel stupid for settling in and making it a home and thinking it would be fun here. If you are transgender you are not safe and you are not wanted. Not in the queerest place on the web, either.

It's not about the funny hammer car explosion """threat.""" It was never about the hammer car explosion. That was a dogwhistle through a megaphone to transphobes. Tumblr's darlings. Don't worry. I'll take care of this one that thinks she can speak up against me. And against you. And now there's a defined "REASON" for the ban. Why, Matt hardly knew he was banning a trans woman. All he knew was fear! He had no choice! And you can ignore the ACLU and the claims of systemic transphobia, that's something else. We fixed that!

I want this place to die because it is already rotting. We are scraping at the bones at this point. Walls are crumbling and there's a hole in the floor to the room below and the windows have long been knocked out and the boiler hasn't worked in years. They aren't going to fix it. It has never been the intention to fix it. They want you to leave or die. Whichever. Don't matter. Just get lost. I will find another tenant. I will find another person who will give me more ad revenue. You are replaceable in that sense. Someone else will join tumblr tomorrow. And tumblr will make a buck off them instead.

But they cannot replace the ways in which you and I have made this site livable and bearable and fun. And I want us to leave so that the husk of this place can collapse and blow away in the wind. I want tumblr to take a major hit and I want the loss of ad revenue to HURT THEM. I want a mad scramble to figure out how to fix it all. They can't. They won't. The fix has always been there and it's always been refused. Terfs will never be turned away from tumblr. Neither will nazis. "Sorry you feel that way, but that's not against our tos. Was this answer helpful?"

You know how they say, "it there are ten people at a table and one is a nazi and no one stands up, you have ten nazis"? This feels like that to me. If 20,000 of us wait a week, shrug, and resume joking and playing and say, well, yeah, it's sad that another dozen trans fems were banned last night. But I like it here...

It feels like that. Why are my trans sisters' archives of 5, 10+ years of life and joy being wiped clean? I can't even tell you how many posts I've seen from an op whose url I recognize from last week, but whose username is grey and icon default, because she posted something less than a day ago to say "yo this sucks. Fuck this place and fuck this guy." They've never ever found the terfs and nazis to ban them because they DON'T CARE. Those are the ones they prefer. That they cater to. Post about the ceo being a dumbfuck and in 12 hours, risk losing your community and the ability to look back at your life online. Clean slate. As if you never lived there. Oh, but tumblr isn't a transphobic place. We fired the one and only naughty transphobe on staff who was taking bribes to send out bans. Pay to win moderation. That person's gone. So it's okay and you don't need to worry. It's okay, I promise. It's the queerest place on the web. Get comfortable.

I love my job and I love this place. One of them is going to push me to the edge. But I can choose to leave one. You can choose to leave with me. They can't fire us all.

#and i know that i am preaching halfway to the choir and halfway to deaf ears.#you either already care or you don't.#this either affects you a lot or not at all.#you'll either walk out or you'll clock back in and get back to it.#fuck though man. something has to give or it's going to snap. you know?#and frankly i just don't want to play here right now. it sucks a lot.#and it sounds like it's going to start sucking a whole lot more very quickly.#i hope the hellsite explodes. i hope the hammers go everywhere.#have a good night and all.#see you tomorrow or whatever.

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chelseachilly · 11 months

Text

king of my heart - pt 8

i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us so, baby can we dance through an avalanche?

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: ben’s injury begins to take a toll on your relationship warnings: angst & some cursing word count: 1.8k

a/n: sorry for more angst :( it won’t last long, i promise!!

see my masterlist for previous chapters

benchilwell

liked by yourusername, masonmount and others

benchilwell Absolutely gutted to have injured my ACL again so early in the season. I’m going to work hard to return to the pitch as quickly as possible and get back to playing for my club and country. Thanks for all the support. 💙

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

masonmount You’ll come back stronger ❤️

cmpulisic You got this chilly 💙

jackgrealish Speedy recovery mate ❤️

It’s an incredibly tough couple of weeks following Ben’s injury - for both of you.

The first few days, he’s in so much pain he can barely move at all, on complete bed rest except for the trip to the hospital to get an MRI.

You see something shatter within him the moment the doctor tells him it’s a complete tear of the ACL and he’s looking at 6-9 months for recovery. The Euros are in nine months, which means he could not only miss the rest of the season with Chelsea, but also be unable to play for his country once again. The possibility of that is too grim for you to take after everything he’s been through in the past.

The surgery is successful, thank goodness, and you take a few days off to devote yourself fully to his care. Ben insists that he can ask his parents to come down or one of his mates, feeling guilty that you have to use your vacation time, but you won’t hear of it. You can’t imagine not being here for him at this time.

The day after his operation, Ben’s parents drive down to London to visit. You’ve actually only met them once before, when they were in town for a visit during the summer. Due to Ben’s busy schedule, he doesn’t get home as much as he would like, but they come to London to see him and watch him play as much as they can.

“Ben, sweetie,” you say gently as you enter the dark bedroom.

The pain meds have made him particularly drowsy, and you want to encourage that rest as much possible, so you got him set up in the main floor guest room for the morning while you cleaned his house to make it presentable for his parents. You’ve been living off takeout since his injury and way too tired to clean up after the both of you after waking up with him throughout the night to get him his pain meds or a fresh ice pack.

Ben stirs slightly as you sit next to him and run your fingers through his hair.

“D’you need to change the bandages again?”

“No, babe, not yet,” you tell him. “Your mum just texted, they’re almost here.”

He nods drowsily and sits up, grimacing as he does so. You help him put on a t-shirt and some comfy basketball shorts and grab his crutches so he can make his way into the living room.

His parents arrive a few minutes later. His mum, Sally, comes prepared with all of Ben’s favourite foods, and his dad, Wayne, suggests they put on a rugby match. You know that watching sports is how he and his dad bond, and you appreciate that he had the sense not to put on a football game - especially since Chelsea is playing today in their first match since the injury.

You make everyone some tea and bring it into the living room along with the biscuits Sally made. While Ben’s parents are happily chatting away and updating him on his sister’s uni application process and how his grandparents are doing, he barely says a word - he just sips his tea and stares down at the thick bandages and brace on his knee, a reminder of how long it will be before he’s back to doing what he loves.

“Ben, do you want some more tea?” you ask after he’s finished his cup, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles, not making eye contact with you or reciprocating your touch.

Although he was quite clingy and wanted you as close to him as possible when he was still coming down from the anesthesia, he’s been a bit distant toward you since. You can’t blame him, knowing how much pain he’s in both physically and mentally, but it still hurts a bit. You’ve never seen this side of him before, not even after a tough loss.

“Y/N, would you join me in the kitchen for a moment?” Sally asks with a small smile.

You nod and follow her into the other room, pouring both of you another cup before sitting down at the kitchen island and burying your head in your hands when you think she’s not looking.

When Sally turns around, you try to plaster a fake smile on, but it’s pretty clear that she’s not buying it.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks you in a motherly tone.

“Yeah,” you say, maybe a bit too quickly to be believable. “It’s just been hard to see him like this.”

Sally nods sympathetically. “I can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of him, Y/N.“

There’s a pause as she comes and sits on the stool next to you.

“He can be…difficult when he’s injured,” Sally continues, lowering her voice. “The last bad one, when he missed the World Cup, that took quite the toll on him.”

You nod, your heart aching for him even more.

“I just wish I could take it away,” you confess. “I hate that anything is standing in the way of his dreams. He’s so talented and he’s such a good person and I just…”

As you trail off, there’s a smile on Sally’s face, and she reaches out to grab and squeeze your hand.

“I can see why my son loves you so much,” she says sincerely. “He’s incredibly lucky to have you, and he knows it. So if he’s ever acting like a bit of a prick, just remember he’s upset with the situation, not with you, alright?”

You nod and blink back the tears that had begun to form in your eyes, smiling back at Ben’s mum.

“Thank you, Sally.”

While you try to take Ben’s mother’s words to heart, knowing that you can trust the woman who raised him, things seem to be getting worse as Ben starts to heal.

Although he’s incredibly reliant on you for the first week and a half, needing your help showering and moving upstairs, he starts to become a bit more agile on his crutches as the pain goes from agonizing to bearable.

Since it’s clear that he’s feeling slightly better, and has even begun to see the Chelsea physio, you decide that it might be good for him to socialize a bit. He’s an outgoing guy and he’s used to seeing his mates every day, and lately the only people he sees are you and his medical team.

While you’re driving him home from his three-week checkup, at which he was cleared to start bearing partial weight on his leg as tolerated, you suggest having some of the boys over later.

“They’ve got training,” Ben mutters.

“Not in the evenings,” you point out. “I know Mase wants to see you, and I’m sure Christian and Reece would-“

“I don’t feel like it,” he snaps.

You drop the subject for the remainder of the drive, ignoring his bitter tone and the way he doesn’t say anything else the whole way home.

The next day, you have to go into the office. You’ve been working from home as much as possible to make sure you’re there if Ben needs anything, but you have an important meeting that requires your presence.

When you get home - well, to Ben’s, but you’ve only been to your flat to get some clothes since his injury - you are greeted by Oscar at the door, but are surprised that Ben isn’t at his usual spot on the couch.

Confused and a bit worried, you make your way upstairs and enter the bedroom. When he isn’t in bed either, you feel significantly more worried, calling out his name.

He doesn’t answer, so you try the bathroom, the gaming room, another bedroom - all empty. Finally, you open the door to his home gym, the last place you wanted to find him.

He’s sitting on the floor next to the treadmill, a few weights next to him, sweat on his forehead.

You feel your blood begin to boil with rage, but you try to restrain yourself from yelling at him.

“What are you doing in here?” you demand, putting a hand in your hip.

Finally noticing your presence, Ben takes his earphones out and looks up at you.

“Just a light workout,” he mutters as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“A light workout?” you ask incredulously. “Ben, you’re only supposed to be walking a few steps at a time and with assistance. You should not be working out, definitely when I’m not home.”

Ben refuses to look you in the eye, fiddling with the hem of his shorts.

“I’m serious!” you continue, walking closer to him. “You could injure yourself again or at the very least slow down your recovery-“

“Y/N, I’ve gone through injuries before,” Ben retorts. “I’ll be fine. I’m done sitting around doing nothing-“

“You tore your ACL less than a month ago, Ben! You need time to heal.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he snaps. “Trust me, I’m well aware that my bloody knee is messed up yet again and I’m stuck at home for god knows how long, I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for taking care of you when you’re hurt,” you snap back. “Sorry for trying to prevent you from making your injury worse, for supporting you-“

“By treating me like a fucking child who can’t take care of himself.”

Ben seems to know he crossed a line by the look on your face the moment he said it. Your heart drops in your chest at the cruelty your boyfriend is showing you right now - he’s never said anything nearly this hurtful to you before.

You begin to walk away out of fear that you’ll start crying in front of him, and you can hear him trying to get up behind you.

“Y/N, wait - ow, fuck-“

Despite how angry you are with him, you can’t ignore his grunts of pain as he attempts to stand up, having obviously overdone it today.

You can barely stand to look at him, but you still offer him a hand and help him hobble over to the bench, setting his crutches up on the wall next to him.

“Yeah, you clearly don’t need my help,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I’m going home. Call one of your mates if you need help. Maybe they won’t treat you like a ‘fucking child’.”

Although you can hear him calling out for you, you keep walking, slamming the front door behind you and running to the car as your tears blend with the rain pouring down outside.

tagging: @xjval (just let me know if anyone else would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters!)

next chapter 💙

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #komh

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doberbutts · 11 months

Text

Tomorrow I talk to my doctor about top surgery and starting the process for scheduling, as well as my regular T checkin, and it's Pride so here's a list of things 8 months in:

Recently I have been Noticing The Fuzz quite a lot- my arms my legs my stomach my ass. Nothing on my chest and patchy on my face still. Can't grow hair on my cheeks but sure can between em 🙄 every once in a while I feel a tickle and look down and oh. That's MY hair.

Last actual cycle was in March, and even that was a piddley sad spotting that didn't even need a pad. Ideal really.

I have. Gained a lot of weight 😅 I'm more okay with it than I was but I do grumble still about the fat padding around my hips. I think it makes me look solid and blocky and I'm loving it.

I've also gained a lot of muscle. Without going to the gym, just doing my everyday stuff, I've gained a lot of arms and shoulders and back muscle on top of the belly fat. Lifting heavy things is way easier. And my joints and bones don't ache as much anymore.

My first fainting episode since I started T happened a couple weeks ago while I was positioning a dog on the xray table- he's long and low and uncooperative and I was bent double trying to wrangle him while the doctor was doing her thing when suddenly my body went 🤷‍♂️ floor time 🤷‍♂️ and I only stayed upright because I was able to sag into a chair while keeping my position. One in 8 months is a new record for me, but a good reminder that "better" isn't "cured". But also good to know that I have to ignore pretty much every rule my body has enforced the ladt three decades before it decides to punish me for my hubris.

Surprisingly this month the constant horniness sort of wore off. Whereas before it was "if I don't orgasm at minimum twice per day I Will Die", now it's "huh, that'd be nice right now". The constant hunger is starting to abate too, it's "food is delicious and hits pleasure centers in my brain" instead of "I AM STARVING FEED ME PLEASE".

Oh god The Stankening. It's hot now and I take Phoebe for a daily walk and by the time I get home 😱😱😱 it's bad. I sweat a lot more than I used to so I've got it under control for my mostly sedate job but definitely not when adding exercise.

I was afraid I'd lose my heat tolerance because initially I was getting a lot of hot flashes but if anything I'm still fine in the heat AND I'm more hardy in the cold. Take that, metabolism.

Historically I've always fit a men's medium and I might actually be toeing the line to a large now. Not because of my stomach but because of my arms and shoulders. My scrubs are pretty restrictive across the shoulderblades. At 30 I didn't really expect my shoulders to widen but they sure did. My arms, too, are beginning to chafe at the sleeves, too bulky for the tighter sleeve cuff I'm used to wearing. I don't really want to re-buy my wardrobe *again* but I may have to.

Stamina continues to be noticably higher than it used to be. I can be outside gardening and weeding and tending my lawn all day and nothing will happen except that I will be incredibly stinky and my back somewhat sore.

Still about 80/20 passing vs not. Significant improvement if that person has never met me prior to this point in my transition. Still called "lady" and "she" and "woman" to my face at the front desk by returning clients or folks on the phone. It's not deliberate but it is annoying.

My cholesterol is fine but my blood pressure did raise from its usual- benefit is that it makes me feel better than ever but drawback is that it's something to keep an eye on with my history of heart problems.

Voice still cracks and bounces around everywhere but I do like my singing voice now when I can get it to cooperate.

Way more in control of my emotions.

Also way more attention on various dating apps. Where were all these guys in my dms before??? Not a day goes by that I don't have several new "hey cutie"s sliding up into my dms. Hello??? Sir??? I know I'm hot now but god damn.

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sjhhemmings · 5 months

Text

“It was never you.”

brian zvonecek

a/n: this story went in a completely different direction than I intended and I am so sorry 😭, I might actually have to go back and try to write the prompt I wanted to because it’s too good and this story turned out so wrong. i’m sorry for breaking everyone’s hearts in advance. gah, anyway sorry for aggressively posting today, it’s my last day of freedom as everything starts for me again tomorrow. I hate Mondays.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, angst (no happy ending 🥴)

Walking into Molly’s at almost midnight, your sight as soon as you step into the bar makes you wish you never even showed up.

“Hey Y/N, over here!” Your best friend Gabby says waving you down to sit next to her at the bar.

“Late night?” She asks while handing you a drink and spinning in her chair to properly face you.

“Yeah, I didn’t get off until 11 on the dot. Traffic back home was a nightmare and changing into real clothes sucked because I haven’t done laundry and god, I wish I just stayed at home.” You exclaim since out of the corner of your eye you see Brian dancing with another girl. You also tried to take a sip of the drink Gabby gave you, but it turned out to just be water.

Working at Med is your dream job. You honestly wouldn’t trade it for the world, except when it comes down to the fact all of your friends are firefighters and you guys are almost always working opposite hours of each other. Then you would trade it. Trade it for a proper night out every once in awhile to be social and enjoy the company of others.

Gabby turns to look over her shoulder at the sight your repressing tears for and sighs.

“They’ve been all over each other all night, i’m sorry pumpkin.” Drunk Gabby says pulling your head into her chest to give her a hug.

Pumpkin. Pumpkin is Gabby’s drunken pet name for everyone. Once that girl has a few shots in her system everyone becomes pumpkin.

“I need a shot.” You announce looking at Herrmann who is stressed trying to get every person’s drink right.

“Oh my god! I am one person! If only my bartenders and co-owners weren’t drinking on the job maybe I wouldn’t be so swamped!” He muttered under his breath which kind of pissed you off.

“Okay Mr. Fireman who’s also Mr. Bartender, I get it your job sucks, you’re having a rough day, but so am i! I just got out of an 8 hour surgery that I basically performed by myself since my resident wouldn’t know his own head from his ass if someone didn’t tell him, and now I’m sitting here having to watch the guy i’m in love with basically get a lap dance over there stone cold sober, so please, get me a shot!” You half shout half beg at your longtime friend, who genuinely sympathizes with you and gets you your order.

6 shots later you’re drunk off your ass and rambling incoherently to Gabby who probably hasn’t understood a single word you’ve said in the last 15 minutes.

“You know I’ve given the last 2 years of my life to this guy, who barely recognizes I exist! I try to flirt, I try to make myself seen, but either the scheduling Gods won’t let me near him, or my consciousness who thinks everything I do is embarrassing won’t let me near him. I’m constantly losing!” You babble out to Gabby who is nodding along with her eyes shut so you know she’s probably asleep.

Taking a deep breath in, you look over to see Otis and his girl of the night and pout. That should be you. Sitting in his lap, nibbling on his earlobe in a sexy way, purring- okay purring what the fuck is up with this chick? What does he see in her besides a short skirt and a quick fuck? Oh that was rude…but you’re drunk so who cares.

The bell at the front door dings and the last person you would ever want to show up, shows up. Kelly Severide. What the hell is he doing here?

“Okay, time to go home,” He tells you basically announcing your departure to the remaining 8 people in the bar catching the attention of Otis.

“But I don’t want to!” you say back with your voice laced in attitude as if you were a middle school girl who didn’t get her way.

“Nope, I wasn’t asking, let’s go.” He demands trying to stand you up.

After a few seconds of the both of you arguing, Otis’ one night stand to be comes and starts talking to Kelly.

“Hey baby, what if we get outta here, she obviously doesn’t see a good thing in front of her when she has it so someone worth your while might as well take your offer.” She says biting her lower lip and trailing her finger up his bicep.

Kelly looks at her with complete disgust about to turn her down but you butt in before he gets the chance.

“That is my brother you stupid bitch.” You mutter not talking directly to her but you said it with enough emphasis she got the gist.

“Excuse me!?” the random girl yelps out like she’s a puppy I just kicked. This causes Otis to get up from his seat and see what’s going on.

“Is everything all right here?” He asks Kelly who seems to be the only adult in this situation. But again before he can respond you butt in.

“No, get this thing on a leash.” You say which causes the girl to yelp out again.

“Y/N stop, Otis everything is fine.” Kelly says trying to grab your arm and leave but you wiggle yourself free.

“No everything is not fine Kelly!” You say but before you can explain the walking mini skirt speaks up.

“Are you really going to let her talk to me that way Oti-bear?” She says with puppy dog eyes attached to his arm now. Seriously what is this chick’s deal?

“Y/N what is your problem?” Otis ends up asking,

“Otis, she’s drunk, i’m taking her home now.” Kelly says grabbing ahold of your arm again.

“Of course, always having your big brother fight your battles.” Otis says rolling his eyes to turn away but you’ve had enough.

“I was in love with you at one point you know that?” You say stopping Otis dead in his tracks with whatever the fuck anyone wants to call her now still on his arm.

“What?” is all he mutters still not turning around.

“You know the least you could do is face me as I say this?” You say absolutely not caring anymore.

Finally turning around to face you Otis sees the tears about to spill over your eyes and doesn’t know how to feel.

“I was so in love with you. For the last 2 years you spent almost every waking moment on my mind. I would go to events because I knew you’d be there, I would always be watching you from afar afraid to ever approach you and mess anything up between us..if we ever had anything. I don’t even know if you would be able to call us friends. But I loved you. I just know that I was so in love with you. You were the man of my dreams. The guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But you’ve never looked at me twice, it’s always the other girl if there is one. Everyone has tried to tell me you don’t hate me, and that you’ll come around, but in the end it was never going to be me. Even this thing was going to choose Kelly over you but the second she got shot down and ran back to you, you took her in with open arms. Why? What about me Brian? What about what we could’ve had? Why can’t I ever be enough for you?

“It was never you.” Is all he says in response.

“What?” you’re the one at a loss for words now.

“You never could pick up on the hints could you? I’ve seen your longing stares from across the room, and the flirting, I’ve seen all of it. But It was never you. It’s not that you’re not enough for me, it’s that you were never an option Y/N. I don’t want to be with you. Is that clear? Can you understand that yet? It’s nothing personal it’s just it was never you.” Brian explains with absolutely no remorse.

“Go to Hell, Brian.” You say as your turn around and cry into your brother’s arms. The only thing you could ever want now is to just die.

“Jesus Otis.” Is all Kelly says as he rolls his eyes at the other man and walks you out of the bar.

“That was harsh.” Gabby says getting her stuff and following the two of you out of the bar.

“Hope you’re happy.” Herrmann then says walking out and leaving just Otis and the mini skirt alone in the bar.

#brian zvonecek x reader #otis x reader #kelly severide #otis chicago fire #heartbreak #angst with no happy ending #gabby dawson #chicago fire x reader #chicago med #chicago fire oneshot

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libbee · 5 months

Text

Astrology of Goodbye

I don't know how to see goodbye in chart. I will only share the stories of mine and my family's charts. This is in no way intended to guide someone else nor it is indication that everyone going through certain dasha will definitely undergo the same event. I only share dots I can connect from little knowledge I have.

Trigger warning: death, loss of parent, grief.

This happened in my Jupiter's mahadasha that I have been running since 2014. That year I started college. Definitely Jupiter is planet of blessings and it is luck and blessing to graduate and be able to use degree for job and livelihood. Then in Ketu's antardasha in 2022 that rules my 1st house, my father was diagnosed with a life threatening disease. For my father's chart, it happened in his Venus Mahadasha and Jupiter Antardasha. Jupiter rules his 8th house that has Saturn in it. It came to light out of nowhere, suddenly, although there was no prior hint.

On first impression, I thought Saturn in 8th house gives very long life, although it may not guarantee good quality of life. I had read that this placement can give chronic diseases. I assured my father that nothing will happen to him, trust me, this will pass for you, just keep taking medical treatment, you're only being tested by God. Once I asked him do you have faith in astrology papa? He said, I have faith in you. So I said, then trust me you will live a long life.

Time pass by, medical treatments do not work for him. One chemotherapy. Next radiotherapy. No change. Next immunotherapy. Next chemotherapy. Next chemotherapy. All these treatments for long months. He was not ready to give up. As you know each chemotherapy takes months for cycles then we wait for some days before body scan. It was test of patience and powerlessness. I stopped telling him astrology and stop seeing everything. In my culture, vedic astrology is a big thing so we consult my friend's father who sees charts. He says, is it in bones? Do not worry, nothing will happen to you, you will recover even without surgery.

Meanwhile, we do everything we know. Buying stones, doing rituals, long 9 days of rituals, donating food grains and consulting a family tantrik. My father's health deteriorates further. One day he tells me, look my skin looks so old, I look like I am 95 year old. Instantly it struck me that although he's young he indeed looks like he is very old because of the treatments and looks like he "lived a long life".

My obsession with studying the 8th house makes me realize that he is being compelled to take the path of Yogi. He eats nothing, drinks nothing, speaks nothing, cannot leave house, does not go to work, does not socialize. This means he is doing sadhana and it is spiritually important event. It is internal self destruction to the point of nothing, so that a big transformation can begin.

In rahu's antardasha and rahu pratyantardasha, dear father leaves his body and departs to the world of unknown. For me, it was my Venus' antardasha and rahu's pratyantardasha. For my mother, she was running rahu's mahadasha, rahu's antardasha and venus pratyantardasha. I have venus in my 8th house but it rules my 7th/12th house. My mother's 8th/1st house are ruled by Venus. Can you see the change in her identity, self image, social identity from this information? It makes some sense in hindsight.

So, this is the story of timeline of what happened and when. How my incomplete astro knowledge made me tell misinformation and false promise to my father. And why I will only stick to personality analysis and not predicting events in coming times. I have not touched astrology for last 7 or 8 months now. But today it feels like I need to take it seriously and begin learning things from scratch once again. Living in a rut will keep close to memories of past but life has to move on even if that means getting distant from memories and not thinking of the same things every single day.

Thank you to people who asked me in how I was doing. This community is very supportive and does not forget you though one may forget oneself. My best wishes to everyone.

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bawltongue · 11 months

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ROOMMATES - Pt 1

(jonathan davis x stealth transmasc reader <on t, post op top surgery>. takes place in early 90s, very beginning of korn. reader gets notice by landlord that they will have to share their space with a new roommate- that being jd. despite the readers initial lack of excitement, they get to know each other and develop a mutual liking)

18+ !!!!!!!

warning: substance use, lots of swearing, slurs, brief mention of the film 'cannibal holocaust'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Fucking shit!” You sputtered out, woken up from a deep sleep due to your obnoxious alarm. You had the day off, but had forgotten to turn it off the evening prior. You sighed, feeling defeated already. Another day where you’ve been yanked out of slumber nearly suffering a heart attack at 8 AM.

“Great, there goes sleeping in today.”

Getting up from your bed, you groggily stumbled into the kitchen. Might as well prepare a decent breakfast, since you actually have time rather then having to rush to work. You opened up the fridge to scan various ingredients, trying to decide on what you were going to make. You had meant to go grocery shopping a few days ago, but your consistent exhaustion has kept you nothing but work and homebound. The fridge was basically barren and despite your rumbling gut, nothing looked appetizing.

Well, nothing except for your trusty old bong sitting on the counter where you had left it the night before. It still had some ash and weed inside the bowl; even a bit of green still sprinkled in there. You sighed picking it up, mildly disappointed in yourself over how happy the thought of lighting it up made you. Walking out onto your tiny haven of a balcony, you plopped down in one of the plastic yard chairs and picked up the lighter left lying on the ground. Inhaling the comforting smoke, you sat wondering what you could do to postpone going to the grocery store for as long as possible.

“Damn, this is some good ass shit.” You coughed out, already feeling high after a couple hits. Your dealer knew you back in high school as the weird, quiet, androgynous kid. When you had first linked up about a year ago inquiring about buying from him, he thought your transition was ‘cool and interesting’. He always made sure to give you his best product; sometimes he’ll even slide you some free edibles to try.

Finishing up what was left in the bowl, you made your way back inside to fill it back up and get fucked up for the day; only to be inturupted by a knock at your door.

“Shit shit shit.” You anxiously jumped up, racing to shove your bong under the kitchen sink and lighting a candle on your coffee table. You weren’t expecting any visitors, and you had already paid rent for the month a week and a half ago; what’s the fucking deal?

Another impatient sounding knock at the door.

“Coming, I-I’m coming!” You stumbled over to the door, opening it without even thinking to look through the peephole. Lo and behold, your landlord, Lily, was waiting with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow.

“Do I have to remind you for like, the billionth time that you can’t be smoking? You’re gonna get me in trouble, Y/N.” She said half seriously, half nonchalantly. You’ve had this conversation so many times, all she can really do at this point is wag her finger and pretend to care.

“Shit, you can smell it?”

“Not this time, but your eyes give it away.” She snickered, gesturing at your face. “Anyways, that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I have news, and you’re either gonna be excited or pissed at me. Probably pissed. Either way, it’ll be your problem, not mine.” She crossed her arms and took a step closer.

“You’re scaring me, Lily. Like, that just made me so anxious. Just give it to me straight.” You braced yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest and holding onto your shoulders. You honestly didn’t know what to expect at this point. You’ve been residing in the same complex for close to 2 years now, so aside from the occasional drama from the room above you or malfunctioning of appliances; surprises weren’t something that occurred often at all. You were almost hoping for her to say something a little outlandish. Life had felt so redundant lately.

“Alright. You want it straight? I’ll give to ya. Finances are… rough, to say the least. I can’t keep up with what I’m charging you for rent. So I’m raising it-“

“What? Are you kidding? You know I’m in a shitty situation myself, I can barely afford an eighth of grass. I’m paying for my hrt, come on, dont do this to m-“

“Y/N, chill. You ain’t even let me finish my sentence. Why would I mention you’d be excited if I was just gonna double the rent on you? You think I’m a monster?” She looked mildly offended. Her assurance made you relax your shoulders a bit.

“Anyways; I’m raising the rent and you’re going to be splitting it with a new roommate. I think he’ll be a perfect match for you, he’s your age, a bit quiet, but-“

“Aw shit… please tell me you’re joking. I don’t mesh well with other people. Especially strangers. Plus, you know my ‘thing’. What if I get hatecrimed? What do you even know about this guy?”

“Enough to be sure he won’t slaughter you. I dunno, he might be a little… you know… queer himself even. Not my business.” She flashed a limp wrist to emphasize her point. It would’ve made you chuckle if you weren’t so disappointed and taken off guard. “Be prepared for your new friend tonight. I already told him he’d probably have to take the foldout couch to sleep in.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, maybe you should be excited or something. You’re always alone, getting stoned by yourself and shuffling around here like a hobbit. Your life is your life, but you have a shot at making a friend. You’re gonna have to get used to it anyways, because I need money, and you need a place to live. Once I get his payment, I may even be able to fix your hot water problem.” She winked cartoonishly and took a step back. “That’s all I had to say. If you can afford it, go buy some eyedrops.” She said before walking away, unbothered.

You made a disgusted expression at her back before slamming the door shut and pacing to your bedroom to put some normal clothes on. In that moment, you had decided you’d tidy things up a little bit. Sure, you were pissed off and unhappy that you’d have to be sharing your space with a total stranger all of a sudden, but you didn’t wanna feel embarrassed about a mess on top of that. Wasn’t worth fighting fire with fire.

Time felt like no object as you cleaned up; throwing laundry into your crummy little dryer, spraying down the mirror in the bathroom, vacuuming up the ash and crumbs scattered throughout the apartment floor. Before you knew it, you had looked at the clock and it was 4 PM. You had done a damn thorough job sanitizing and tidying.

Damn, I’ve been cleaning all fucking day for some dude I don’t even know. I deserve a medal for hospitality or something.

You looked over at the little coffee table, spotting your lighter.

Or maybe a couple bong rips would suffice.

Packing up the bowl tight with a nice fluffy bunch of weed, you situated yourself outside with a glass of water and got ready to get fucked. Your anxiety was starting to eat at you now that you weren’t occupied cleaning; and what better way to rid yourself of that nagging feeling then to smoke it away?

Time dragged on as you smoked an unforeseen amount of bud. Your eyelids got progressively heavier until they fell and your body gave in to much needed sleep. A sleep that would once again be crudely interrupted, as the slamming of something hitting the floor of your apartment pulled you to your feet in fear. With bloodshot, sleepy eyes you yanked the door from your balcony open and staggered inside.

“The fuck?” Your voice cracked with apparent concern and confusion. In front of the doorway of your abode stood a lanky, and clearly startled man about your age. He had dark dreads, silver eyebrow piercings, and a uniquely handsome face. You scanned him tentatively, trying to figure out in your stoned state of mind if he was a threat or not.

“Sorry, I uh, Lily gave me a key and I didn’t wanna knock in case you were asleep. I didn’t mean to scare ya like that.” He awkwardly fumbled, putting the key in his pocket before outstretching his hand. “I’m Jonathan.”

You exhaled in relief and reached your hand out to shake his. He seemed polite enough, and the fact that he was clearly nervous as well made you feel a bit better.

“Names’ Y/N. It’s cool to meet you, man.” He gripped your hand with more strength then expected. You couldn’t control your eyes. Your gaze went from up his hand to his face and down his body. Taking in his features and clothing choices the best you could. You noticed his dark, friendly eyes. There looked to be a lot of soul behind them. His decrepit black sweater and sweatpants that looked like they’ve been through purgatory. You wanted to keep staring, but didn’t wanna seem weird.

“This is a really nice place, you do a good job keeping it clean I can see.” Jonathan smiled, trying to ease the tension, earning a soft smile back. His crooked teeth caught your eye.

“Thanks. To be honest, I really don’t. I cleaned it all today, went fucking nuts with it.”

“Aww, what? Already trying to impress me and we just met, huh?” He playfully responded, making you blush a bit. Fortunately for you, it was just dim enough so that he couldn’t tell.

“Man whatever.” You laughed tiredly. “Can I help you with anything? You look like you might be strugglin’ a bit.” You looked over to his bags that had fallen all over the floor. One had busted open and his clothes had come flooding out. You noticed a pair of thigh high striped socks and garters. Interesting.

He looked behind him and sighed softly, turning back to you. “Nah, nah… Well… I hate to make this kind of first impression, but would you maybe have sumthin’ to eat? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

You nearly facepalmed. Fuck. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today.

“Shit man, I wish I could say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m hungry m’self.”

“Oh fuck, well… can I buy you something to eat then? It’s like almost midnight but I can get us something from the Kwik Stop across the street.”

You smiled, a bit surprised at the offer. You would’ve said no out of courtesy since you normally don’t like when people buy things for you; but because he was moving into your space, you graciously took him up on the offer. Before leaving, you both moved his bags onto the couch and went on your way. It was pitch black outside. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out for until he mentioned it was about midnight. Time felt weird.

The Kwik Stop was just across the road from your complex, which was empty due to the odd time of evening. On the brief walk there, you had partaken in some small talk; learning that he had come from Bakersfield, that he enjoyed music, that you both really liked The Cure. He had a very soft spoken and gentle cadence to his voice. Although you weren’t excited by any means to have to embrace a new roommate, it didn’t seem like it’d be necessarily hard to get along. In fact, you found yourself kind of attracted to him which threw you off a bit.

“Feel free to grab whatever you want, It’s on me.” He winked at you and walked off, going straight for the beers in the back. Once you both got what you wanted, you left to run back across the street. The sidelights lit your faces up dully as you waited for cars to cease passing by. "I really appreciate you getting me something to eat."

"Don't worry about it. I really appreciate you being so cool about me staying at your place. I probably would've beaten the shit out of me the way I showed up earlier." He chuckled softly. Jon's gaze was soft, his eyes looked like black holes reflecting the small amount of light emanating from the street. You met his fixed look with your own causing him to nervously glance at his feet.

"I gotta be cool with it, right? We're roommates now. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't peace out when my stoned ass came bumbling through the door at you. Was kinda embarrassing."

"Naw, it was sorta endearing." You didn't even have a moment to respond before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the street. "C'mon, let's head out." He kept your wrist in his grasp as the two of you speedwalked across the road. You had been caught up staring at Jon's face rather than paying attention to the cars. He let go of you once you reached the other side. "Whew, let's fuckin' eat."

You walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to your apartment, letting you both in. Jon plopped down on the couch and instantly started ripping apart the wings he had bought. He looked up at you with full cheeks and patted the space next to him. You sat down somewhat guardedly, slurping at the slushy you got. As you both ate and drank your respective food and engaged in chitchat, it was easy to tell that sleepiness was becoming palpable. Your eyes kept fluttering closed as Jon would try to continue engaging in conversation. You had been sitting and talking for over an hour now.

"Y/N, you oughtta go to sleep." He snickered staring at you, his head in his hand. "I can tell you're exhausted."

Your eyes peeled open, dark circles encompassing them. "I guess I should. Fuck, I'm so tired. I'm sorry. I wanted to try and vibe a bit more but-"

"Go to bed. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. I just like your company, it's why I won't shut the fuck up." A sleepy smile plastered on his face. You groggily got up and made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth before passing out on your bed. Too tired to change out of your day clothes, but not too tired to unplug your alarm clock.

As the next couple days and weeks passed, you and Jonathan got to know each other better. Developing a friendship where you could be both serious when necessary, but poke fun at each other as well. You took space when you needed it but found that you both enjoyed each other's energy. Jon became more talkative as the days went on, and the two of you found it easy to intently listen to each other. He had told you about the band he was in and how they're working on their first album; even invited you to their next rehearsal. You were becoming somewhat close pretty fast. It'd been a bit difficult to continue suppressing the full on crush you developed on him throughout your time together. You kept covering it up by teasing and making fun of him in subtle, friendly ways. He did the same, but you assumed it was his way of being friendly.

In the midst of a pretty serious conversation about childhood and the lyricism behind the songs Jon had been working on with his bandmates; you ended up disclosing the fact that you're trans to him. You had gathered from multiple discussions and his experience with being perceived as queer that he wouldn't be distasteful about it. Fortunately, you were right. He found it to be very interesting and admirable. You were the first trans person he'd met. He was very open to being educated on the subject. Every now and then a new question will pop into his mind that he'll ask you; some a bit invasive, but all in a genuine attempt to better understand and sympathize with you. You came to learn he was a very open minded individual. After you came out to him, he insisted on giving you an almost uncomfortably long hug. Almost, but more than anything it was a very meaningful gesture. Ever since then, you found yourselves embracing and having sentimental moments a little more often. It was nice to finally have somebody to confide in about your personal life and vice versa. Friends, dates, socializing in general hadn't exactly been a tangible thing since you moved away from home.

At this point, it had been about a couple weeks since he had initially moved in. At the end of a very long workday, you had planned to head over to the Kwik Stop together and grab slushies. This time, on you. Work hadn't ended until 9:30, which left you getting back to the apartment around 10 PM. Jonathan was waiting eagerly when you got back. The moment you opened up the door, he sprung up from the couch and walked over to you. “Let’s get outta here!” He pushed past you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along. He got into the habit of dragging you places by your wrist like that. You didn’t get the chance to even say hello, let alone change out of your work clothes.

After picking out your ridiculous sized slushies, you headed back to the apartment and finally had the opportunity to change into something more comfortable. You grabbed a random oversized t-shirt and pair of sweats from the dryer, swiftly throwing them on before exiting your room to join Jon on the couch. Looking up at him, you noticed a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You sneered, raising an eyebrow. "What's your damage?"

"Nothing. You're just wearing my shit." He pointed a finger at you, still smirking. He proceeded to take an obnoxiously loud sip from his drink, not breaking eye contact. You looked down at the clothes you had mindlessly tossed on to find he was right.

"Oh, uh, shit. My bad. I thought-I didn't even realize. I'll go change real quick."

"You shouldn't. It looks good on you." He very obviously scanned you up and down. A hot blush spread rapidly across your face. You both locked eyes for a few silent moments before he spoke again. "You're turning red."

"Man shut the fuck up." You sputtered out, flustered and unable to hide the smile on your face. "That's gay as hell." You were never very good at accepting compliments.

"That ain't a problem with me." Jon snickered and bit his lip looking quite satisfied with himself. You plopped next to him on the couch and flipped the television on. Out of the corner of your eye while channel surfing, he was making it pretty apparent that he was gawking at you. You had your gaze fixated on the tv and tried to play it cool; despite your heartbeat growing louder in your ears. Jonathan interrupted your aimless search for something to watch by letting you know he had a VHS tape he wanted to show you. You hesitantly agreed as he sprung up and grabbed it from one of his bags, popping it into the player.

"It's called Cannibal Holocaust." He casually sat back down, a little closer to you then before.

"Jonathan, what the actual fuck are you making me watch right now?"

"Don't worry, it's all fake. Mostly. If you get scared, I'll protect you." He playfully patted your head and chuckled, turning his face towards the screen. Every time he touched you, whether it was a tiny tap, a hug, a fist bump, a gentle hand on your waist to get by you; it always made butterflies arise in your stomach. As the movie played on, you found yourself progressively more disturbed and unsettled. Every now and then, Jon would turn his head toward you to check your reactions. You thought it was pretty cute, but with him doing so, felt compelled to try and force a stone-faced expression. That was, until a particular scene involving a turtle shocked your system.

"OH SHIT!" You jumped in disgust and fear, spilling your giant, now melted slushie all over the couch. Jon couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You fucking weirdo, where are you gonna sleep tonight now?" you snapped in a mildly annoyed tone. He wiped a tear from his eye from laughter, glancing down at the sticky mess.

"Damn... Guess I'll curl up on the floor?" He got up to go grab paper towels from the counter. You took a deep breath and got up to turn the VHS player off. You felt a little bad for raising your voice at him.

"Nah, nah. I'm sorry, that was totally my fault. You can sleep in my bed... I-I wouldn't mind."

He gladly accepted as you both proceeded to get ready to go to sleep. Brushing your teeth, setting up his one pillow and bracing yourself for what you hoped to be a casual, non awkward evening. He walked into your room from the bathroom with nothing but a pair of dramatically short, tattered boxers on. You couldn't help but gawk at his figure; he was so much hairier than you imagined. Almost made your mouth water. He excitedly crawled under the covers next to you and faced you, a cheesy grin on his face.

"Taking it to the next level now, are we?" He winked.

"You're dumb." You laughed tiredly. Your faces were inches away, causing you both to subtly turn red. "You've been acting so gay lately."

"Yeah yeah, haw haw, Imma fag... Can you blame me? We've been spending so much time together. I'm starting to like- well I dunno. Nevermind. We gotta sleep." He closed his eyes and began cartoonishly snoring. 'Honk shoo, honk shoo'. It made you snicker.

"No, you can't do that, Jon. Tell me what you were gonna say. I promise I won't be a douchebag about it." You inched closer, getting in his face. Your mutual sleepiness causing your walls to come down a bit. He opened one eye, lips curling into a smile seeing you so close to him.

"I don't wanna make things weird, Y/N. We're sleeping in the same bed tonight." The anticipation of waiting for him to say what you thought he was going to was killing you. You were both sweating. A brief stretch of silent thought ensued until you interjected.

"You have a crush on me or something?" You tried to keep a casual, somewhat playful tone, but your voice came out shaky. His eyes bulged a bit, looking away from you. He sighed dramatically.

"You know, I played that movie kinda hoping that you'd get scared and like, grab my hand or want me to put my arm around you or something. I didn't expect you to dump liquid diabetes all over the couch... and now we're laying in the same bed... and I feel more awkward about telling you this then I thought I would..." He trailed off hesitantly. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath since he started talking.

"Just say it." You impatiently spat out. His eyes fixed back onto yours, both of you using the blanket to cover your faces from the nose down.

He laughed awkwardly; "Peer pressure... I think I've made it obvious enough, right?... I really like you. Like, I'm crushin' on you a fuckton. I think you're really fuckin' cute, Y/N." He almost whispered out. Your smile stretched across your face so wide that your eyes squinted almost completely. You saw the smile in his eyes as well, as you both remained stuck in each other's gazes. You couldn't come up with a response due to your surprise and the surgency of emotions. Time seemed to stretch on forever as you affectionately stared into one another's gazes. Jon hummed thoughtfully to himself, debating on whether or not to interject the silence.

"Can I kiss you?" Jon softly asked. You nodded your head enthusiastically, prompting him to scoot closer to you until your lips weren't even a centimeter apart. He placed a gentle hand on the side of your face and leaned in, placing a tender, somewhat quick kiss on your lips. You couldn't hold back your childish giggle.

"So I take it I didn't make things weird?" He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"No, no. I'm actually really happy you said something. I'm kinda surprised. I uh, I like you too. A lot. If that wasn't apparent... and yeah, I also think you're cute. Very cute." You made the bold, sleep deprived decision to move your hand onto his bare waist, making him slightly twitch in pleasant surprise.

"Careful now. You're gonna give me a boner."

"Man you're so fucking dumb." The both of you laughed as you gave him a light, playful slap on the cheek. The rest of the night was spent sprinkling soft kisses on each other's faces and lazily making out. The romantic tension that had been building finally burst with your mutual confessions. Jon kept trying to spoon you throughout the evening, but in your exhausted state, you couldn't help but toss and turn. Every now and then, you'd feel a kiss on the back of your neck, or his hand resting on your waist. You could tell already that touch was his love language. Before you finally fell asleep, you ended up having to accept your nightly fate of being swallowed up in his arms. His chest hair tickled the back of your neck as he kept you pressed up against him. It was a much safer and cozy feeling then you were expecting. You had never felt so comfortable with the touch of another person before. It was one of the most restful, satisfying nights' sleep you had since you could remember.

#jonathan davis x reader #jonathan davis x transmasc reader #jonathan davis x ftm reader #jonathan davis fic #jonathan davis #korn fic #bawltongue writes #roommates #fic

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mildly-inconvenienced-bat · 8 months

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ATEEZ THE FELLOWSHIP: BREAK THE WALL IN LATAM - BRAZIL EDITION

Now that I have your attention, let me just tell you how utterly INSANE that concert was.

For a little more background, this Saturday (Aug. 26) Ateez came to Brazil for the first time and held their 1st stadium concert at Allianz Parque in São Paulo. According to a few articles, there were around 30k people, even though they weren't using the full capacity of the space (around 45k I guess). So far, this is the biggest public they have performed in front of. Also, the only other kpop group to perform there was BTS, so there's that.

I know some countries work differently, but in Brazil we don't have numbered chairs/spots in most of our concerts, so the first ones to get inside on the day of the concert are the ones with the best spot to watch it. That being said, there were people camping around the stadium 3 MONTHS before the concert even happened, just after the tickets were sold. Yes, we hate that kind of people.

But funny enough, when a VIP package was announced, 10 days before d-day (yeah, that's right, a soundcheck-early-entrace package announced only 10 days before the concert - and we hated that also), that meant that unless those people bought the VIP expansion, their camping would have been useless. Fun fact about the VIP expansion/upgrade: it ranged from 1,8k reais (+-370 USD) to 3k reais (+-615 USD) depending if you already had Pit (kinda front rows?) tickets or would need to upgrade - and our minimum wage is 1,7k/month (+-350 USD/month).

Now that I've covered that, let's move on to my personal experience, because that's what I really want to talk about (and no other social platform would really listen, so thank you tumblr for allowing me to talk to myself comfortably).

I live kinda near São Paulo, but the bus I had to take would only do the longer route, so that meant waking up early. Like, 1am early, to have breakfast, get dressed up and styled for the concert, and get to the bus station. I went with my sister and my best friend, we did our best to stick to our schedule, and we almost missed our bus - shout out to the other bus driver who took pity of us and helped us get to the right bus, you're the best and I hope that both sides of your pillow are aways cold.

We arrived in São Paulo at 6am, and took the subway to the stadium's district. We also had to walk 1,5km to get there, as most streets around it were closed and no uber would take us. So picture me, in 12cm platform boots, walking 1,5km. It was an experience, to say the least.

When we finally got to our sector's line, it was around 7:30 in the morning, and there we stayed until 4pm. Yep, almost 9 hours in line, with barely enough space to sit down for a few minutes before the line would move forward for no apparent reason. But, I also met new cool people, and got a few free pc and pins to keep as souvenirs!

I know it must sound like I'm complaining about the whole experience but I promise I'm not. Actually, it was my fist kpop concert, and also my first time on a floor spot, and everything felt so crazy and intense, I don't even know what I was expecting from it all.

We got inside at 4-something pm, and that was the first bathroom break we took since we left the subway (and about that, never doing that again). We managed a place not that far from the b-stage, fixed our things and ourselves, and waited.

If you ever watched an Ateez concert livestream, you know that sometimes they run a bit late, perfectly normal. But let me tell you it didn't take more than 10 minutes for them to start, and I'm pretty sure that if we were excited and nervous, they were 10 times more.

Unfortunately Jongho wasn't there, he's in Korea and will have to fix his ankle with surgery. We did our best to sing his lines even more energetically so that the boys would see that we understand the situation, and that we love Jongho just as much. 8 makes 1 team, after all.

There's not much to say about the concert, I guess everybody knows the setlist and the interactions they usually do with the crowd. But my honorable mentions go to:

The boys introducing themselves in Portuguese! Also them speaking Portuguese randomly during the concert~ it really felt special seeing them doing it

Their reactions to our cheerings! We are known for our passion, and honestly we are very much proud of being loud - they looked so happy whenever we'd match their energy

On the topic of cheering - the "break the wall" chant. Or even better, THE "break the wall" chant. Not to be cocky, but I challenge any other country to surpass us

Wonderland. I mean, do I even have to elaborate? We did our best to sing Jongho's highnote, it wasn't perfect but it was full of love

Last but not least, us making them blush HARD. we have this chant that goes "Lindo, tesão, bonito e gostosão", and you can translate it if you want, but roughly it means we called them beautiful and hot <3

I don't think I'll be posting my videos in here, but if you wanna fell the Brazilian vibe, you can check out my Instagram highlight "ATEEZ IN BRAZIL" on @/itsme_clarinha, or my Twitter (X?) under the same name where I'll post a thread with the full videos I didn't manage on Instagram ✨️

So that's it! I probably forgot a bunch of stuff, but what I remembered was what I wanted to mention the most;; and if you got this far, here's the video of the best brazilian fanchant ever lol

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ravewoodx · 2 years

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Shikamaru imagine: Arranged Marriage pt 7

(Pt 1) (Pt 8)

You never realized how fast time goes by when you’re free. When you pick what you get to do everyday. It was almost 2 years since you left the Nara compound. You left to the village of the hidden mist. You gotten a job at the hospital there and made a home for yourself.

It was hard, you struggled to make ends meet and get a home for the baby. And you where utterly alone with no one to help. You would think about what would’ve been if you stayed and gotten married. But now you think what is Shikamaru doing. Maybe he married Temari and already has a baby and long forgotten about you. All you hope was that he was happy.

You where happy, lonely but happy. You never felt such strong love until your son was born. He was a copy and paste version of Shikamaru. He dark hair. The dark eyes. Everything about him was his fathers. Yet some days you see the moon in his eyes.

“Shikaku.” You warned as you pulled the toddler that was barley over one closer to you. You felt uneasy being back at the leaf village but you thought it was long enough that shikamaru wouldn’t notice you. Plus the village has grown so much, with so many new people. There was a better job offer at the hospital here that you had to take. You had to for a better life for your son.

“Mama” he mumbled as he raised his arms for you to pick him up.

“Come on Kaku.” You said lifting him on to your hip as you walked to your new home.

It was easy to settle and get into routine. Even for a toddler shikaku was too smart and quickly got used the new preschool you dropped him off at. Your shifts at the hospital weren’t terrible. 3 days a week, 10 hours shifts. Gave you 4 days for your son alone.

It was another day as you helped prep the surgery room. Apparently there was a mission that has gone south and ninjas where being brought back straight into surgery.

“Y/n?” A nursed called for you.

“Hm?” You asked. Stepping out the ORT room confused on why you where being pulled.

“There’s a call from your sons preschool.” She said giving you a smile. You rushed over to the phone, panties something may have happened.

“Hello this is y/n, Kaku mother.” You didn’t give the school his real name, you knew everyone knew he Nara family in the hidden leaf village. You knew how careful you head to be staying here.

“Can you please come down to the school. Kaku is alright. Just something we need to discuss.” His teacher stated making you huff in a breath.

Within 10 minutes you where at the school. You saw Kaku playing in the sandbox with some other kids.

“Hello ms y/l/n?” His teacher asked as she let you into her office.

“What’s going on?” You asked sitting down.

“Today during art time. Another tried to take Kaku crayon. He got really upset. It was like a jitsu but i don’t know how to explain it. He paralyzed the boy with his shadow.” She started making your heart drop.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered running your hands through your hair.

“Has you shown such great abilities before? He has great chakra control. I have never seen it this so young.” She asked smiling hoping to reassure you nothing was wrong.

“Its been getting more out of control since he turned 1. But it does not happen often. I have been training him to the best I can. He’s only a little over one.” You said hoping and praying he wouldn’t get kicked out of school.

“I suppose I can talk with the ninja academy and see what they say.” The teacher offered.

“He is only a toddler. I want him to have a childhood. Please.” You said before taking your leave. You knew the Nara clan was powerful but you didn’t expect this much power this early on.

“Kaku.” You said bending down with your arms out letting him running to you. His dark hair tied in a bun on top of his head. Your only task to is to love him and keep him safe.

The next day

“You have 2 meetings this afternoon, as well as these reports that came in. They need to be reviewed.” Shikamaru said standing in front of Kakashi desk.

“Have you went over them.” The hokage asked looking at his advisor.

“Only gotten through half.” He said with a bored expression.

“Well I found a very interesting report for the preschool.” Kakashi said as he pulled out a folder sliding it over the desk.

“A toddler using jujitsu?” Shikamaru said not sure why Kakashi even was giving him this report.

“Barley over 1, using a paralyzing shadow jujitsu on another.” Kakashi correct making shikamaru gain interest. The Nara clan is the only one to use shadow jujitsu, this must have been some kind of mistake.

“That baby has better chakra control then some jinion I know.” Kakashi joked before going back to his book.

“I’ll look into it.” Shikamaru said before leaving the office. He headed over to the preschool only a few blocks from the office. He did not notice anything strange. Just children playing. He headed over to classroom 3-B hoping to find the teacher.

Shikamaru walked in to see a few kids playing tag. A few girls playing with dolls and one rolls er sitting at a table himself. He almost felt his soul drain out as he sat down in front of the little boy.

“What you drawing there?” Shikamaru asked. The boy was precious and yet so familiar. His dark hair tied into a top bun look awfully similar to his own. But when he looked up shikamaru almost had a heart attack. It was like looking in the mirror. Or at an old photo of himself. But the boys dark eyes had a glow, he could almost see the moon in them.

“Trees” The little toddler said but the picture was more of green scribbles.

“What’s your name.” Shikamaru asked as he tried to understand what was going on. He could be just crazy, his own daunting thoughts and day dreams of what could have been are playing games with him.

“Kaku.” He said not paying much mind as his little legs swinging as he sat still scribbling on the page.

“How old are you?” He kept asking, he was very surprised that this toddler was replying. He just looked up holding out his pointer finger.

“Just one huh?” Shikamaru said rubbing his jaw.

“Nara-kun, sorry I did not notice you earlier. Is this about the report I filled?” The teacher asked as she came up to the table.

“Yeah, I’m assume this little one used the shadow jitsu?” Shikamaru just needed to confirm.

“Yes.”

“Can I have the file on him, his family and home address.” He stated going back to watching the little boy in front of him that paid no mind to anything around him at the moment.

“Yes of course.” They said before hurrying back with a folder. It was pretty thin, not much paperwork. His breath hitched when he noticed y/n y/l/n scribbled under the mothers name. It felt like a wave of emotions he has been holding back hit him all at once.

This can’t be real.

#shika #shikamaru x you #shikamaru nara #shikamaru #shikamaru angst #shikamaru smut #shikamaru fanart #shikamaru imagines #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru fluff #shikamaru fanfiction #shikamaru x reader #naruto imagines #naruto fanfiction #naruto headcanons #shikaku nara

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

Text

Wisdom

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: You finally get your wisdom teeth taken out and your best friend, Eddie Munson, is there to take care of you afterwards.

Rating: General

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns, if any. Here's a little bit of fluff to go with all of our smut for Kinktober. Based on when I got my wisdom teeth taken out and the hilarity of me waking up from anesthesia. The only thing I remember about any of this is the tongue thing. Everything else I was told about second hand from my parents.

CW: Dental problems (wisdom teeth, wisdom teeth removal with no details except for proper medical definitions only); pain; pain medication used for post-op pain; side effects of anesthesia and pain mediation (loopiness, nausea, mentions of Reader throwing up due to medication); mention of IV but no details.

Word Count: 2,112

There comes a time in everybody’s life where a certain rite of passage happens. It’s an unpleasant one that everybody dreads.

Wisdom teeth removal.

While most people would have it done right away if they had the means, you put it off. You didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t that you were scared about it. The idea of having them taken out didn’t bug you at all since they’d be knocking you out cold for the procedure. It was the idea of recovering with all sides of your mouth hurting that intimidated you.

After three years of putting it off, you finally hit your breaking point when both of your bottom wisdom teeth were so impacted you had regular, painful flair ups of TMJ and were infected to the point you had to be on antibiotics for three weeks before the oral surgeon could even touch you.

Needless to say, your dad, your best friend Eddie Munson and his uncle, Wayne, weren’t very happy with you that you let it get that bad.

That was why when your dad got called out of town for work two days before your surgery, he immediately called Wayne and Eddie. Your dad was supposed to take you to the appointment and look after you for a couple of days, so he was afraid if you had to reschedule, you’d just cancel it completely. After seeing you be in pain almost daily since you were 17, no one wanted that. A new plan was quickly formulated.

Eddie would take you to and from the appointment. Since your dentist expected the recovery to be rough at first with how bad it was, Eddie would stay with you for a couple of days until you had recovered some.

It was a simple enough plan.

At first, all was going well. You couldn’t eat or drink after midnight, so your appointment was early. 8:30am, to be exact, so you went ahead and got your prescriptions the day before, then stayed the night with Eddie to make sure he got up. One thing he would never be accused of in his life was being a morning person.

Surprisingly, he got up easily when Wayne woke you two up at 6am when he got home from work.

“Course I’m getting up,” Eddie said groggily, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes when you teased him about it. “I hate seeing you in pain and you know I would do just about anything for you.”

That made you warm inside. While Eddie was your best friend, you had fallen for him ages ago and had kept quiet about it. That was a line you didn’t want to cross since he was your closest friend. Outside of him, your dad and Wayne, you couldn’t count on many people. If you told Eddie how you felt and the friendship was ruined, that would effectively cut the list in half. That was something you definitely wanted to avoid. Your feelings had been bottled up for a long time now, and that’s exactly where you intended to keep them.

Surprisingly, you didn’t get nervous about the procedure until you were already in the chair with the IV in. They had you count backwards from one hundred, but you were out cold before you even reached ninety.

Thus ended your part in the whole fiasco.

And it would, indeed, become a fiasco.

Two hours later, Eddie was woken up from his nap in the waiting room to the news that you were awake and ready to go home. The nurse led him back to your room so they could go over post-op care with him since you were, in the nurse’s words, “a little loopy.”

Loopy didn’t even begin to cover it.

Despite the fact you had just gone through a little bit of surgery, you were in the best mood Eddie had ever seen you in for the entire time he’s known you.

“Weddy, muh wuv!” you exclaimed as soon as he walked in.

Eddie took one look at you and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Between the gauze you had in your mouth and the mild swelling already starting through your cheeks, you reminded him of a squirrel who had its mouth packed full of nuts.

“Ah mah gawd, Weddy!” you said, making grabby hands at him so he’d come closer. “Ave ah avar tald ewe ow uch ah’m in ove wit ewe? Ike, fer eel?”

That was the moment Eddie realized weed highs and anesthesia highs were two completely different things. Between the obvious slurring from that and the gauze, he didn’t have a clue what you just tried to say.

“Hey there, Princess,” Eddie said, chuckling as he came over to the dentist’s chair you were sitting in.

As soon as he got close enough, you dove halfway out of the chair to wrap your arms around his hips in a bear hug. You also headbutted Eddie right in the crotch in the process. Thankfully, it wasn’t terribly hard, but it was definitely hard enough to make tears spring up in his eyes and his knees wobble.

“Easy there, Princess,” he gently scolded you, a slight strain to his voice from the impact.

He grasped you by your shoulders to sit you upright in the chair before you could lean over anymore and fall out of it.

Right as Eddie was about to pull away and stand upright, you grabbed his face in both of your hands and kissed him.

Or, tried to, rather. You just kind of latched your lips onto his bottom lip and sat there, completely still with your eyes closed.

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle then, and gently pushed you back down into the chair. You pouted, which looked especially pathetic with your slightly swollen bottom lip.

It didn’t take long to go over the post-op instructions, then Eddie pulled his van around to the side entrance the nurse brought you to in a wheelchair. It took a few minutes to load you up because you kept jumping out of the van and back into Eddie’s arms before he could get the door closed. He finally had to go back around to sit in the driver’s side and coax you in while the nurses helped you climb up into the van.

The drive back was uneventful for the first half of the half hour trip. You were a chatterbox during that time, though Eddie still couldn’t understand you. One sentence sounded like, “I love you, Eddie,” but he knew that wasn’t what you said. As much as he wanted you to, he knew you really didn’t feel that way about him.

Then, halfway home, you started freaking out for apparently no reason. He ended up pulling over and calming you down but still couldn’t understand what you were trying to say when he asked you what happened. You finally took some of the gauze out then to explain.

“Thomething wath moving in my mouth and it thcared me.”

It was your tongue. You had noticed your tongue moving between the gauze while you were talking, and it freaked you out.

A couple of minutes after Eddie pulled back onto the road, you suddenly got quiet for the first time since you’d been out of surgery. Eddie looked over to see your face twisted in a look of discomfort and you were holding your stomach.

“Feeling sick?” Eddie asked and you nodded rapidly.

Eddie started speeding a little since he knew how much it sucked throwing up in a moving vehicle or on the side of the road. The nurse had warned him nausea was a potential reaction to being under anesthesia, so that wasn’t a surprise.

As soon as he pulled up to your house, he cut the engine, jumped out of the van, and ran up to the door to get it unlocked. He figured that would make it easier for you if he went back for you rather than make you stand there while he got it open.

However, he had barely gotten the inside door open when he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. Eddie turned around just in time to see you stagger running up on him. He jumped out of your way, holding the screen door open for you as you ran inside, making a bee line for the bathroom while very obviously trying not to fall over.

Eddie quickly got the passenger door of the van closed so none of the neighborhood cats would get in, then hurried to check on you.

By this point, you were on your knees in front of the toilet, leaned over it and holding onto the bowl for dear life. He had seen this pose a couple of times after you’d had too much to drink. Since there was nothing in your stomach, the throwing up amounted to just dry heaving, but it didn’t take very long before you were sobbing, too.

“Throwing up after surgery sucks,” you whined into the toilet as Eddie held your hair and rubbed your back.

At least you had realized you needed to take the gauze out before you started throwing up. It was sitting next to you on the floor, so all Eddie had to do was throw it away rather than fish it out of the toilet.

It didn’t take very long before you felt okay enough to let Eddie help you up and lead you to his bed, where you not so gracefully fell onto it. Since you had been told to dress comfortably in loose clothing, you were already basically wearing your pajamas. You were in a loose t shirt and pajama pants, so you wouldn’t have to change. You had even forgone a bra since you didn’t want to mess with one when you got back.

Eddie helped you get in a more comfortable position and pulled the covers up over you. You ended up falling asleep shortly after that and this time Eddie was positive he heard you mutter, “I love you.” But, as much as it made his heart skip, he knew it was just the drugs talking.

The fiasco continued later that afternoon when you discovered the hard way that the painkillers you were prescribed made you sick. This time, it wasn’t just passing nausea and you spent quite a while with your head in a trash can. That understandably made you refuse to take anymore, but you were in a lot of the pain after the last of the anesthesia and Novocain wore off. It kept you up all night, which kept Eddie awake.

Eddie spent most of the day trying to think of a way to help you when an idea finally occurred to him.

“I know you can’t smoke,” he said. “But I can try shot gunning it to you instead. See if that helps.”

You were ready to try anything at this point and readily agreed.

The first hit from the joint went well. Eddie kept his lips a safe distance from yours to avoid bumping into you. You kept your eyes closed as you slowly inhaled the smoke through your mouth. Still though, it felt intensely intimate to Eddie, and he had to keep himself from trembling above you.

The next few hits weren’t as intense for him now that he knew what to expect, and he managed to get through a full joint by shot gunning most of the hits to you. After about an hour, when it did indeed seem to be helping, he lit up another joint to start the process again.

Eddie didn’t notice how he got closer and closer to you with each shotgun. He didn’t notice it when he lightly pressed his lips to yours, or your eyes snap open wide since his were closed. He didn’t even notice it when he did the same thing a few moments later with the last hit off the joint.

But he did notice it when your hand came up to rest softly along the side of his face.

Eddie’s eyes few open and he finally realized he was actually kissing you.

After a moment, he pulled away and your eyes came halfway open. A sleepy, high smile came across your face.

“What took you so long?” you asked him.

Before Eddie could formulate a response, you yawned slightly and turned onto your side, eyes closing. You were asleep before he knew it, leaving him sitting over you, blinking.

That had to be the pain and the weed talking…right?

Had to be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader fluff

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