the ancient near eastern word for funerary rites--kispum--was taken from the word for breaking bread--kāsapu. nearly every recorded burial site includes a body, yes, but also a bowl, a pot, a water-cup. necromancy and death cults did not offer rituals unless they came also with a kind of recipe, a reminder to eat afterwards. i am trying to tell you that death and loss and re/dis-membering were a threshold with one very clear suture: appetite. i am trying to let you know that i see your grief, and you need a meal
it's just a bunch of tender songs about roje's brand of love. most of them are sad. a few of them aren't.
(TW DEATH AND BLOOD)
selected lyrics below the cut.
[ youtube . spotify ]
Salt - Lady Lamb
in your arms, i understand all at once, my life has been building me up to us.
Holding Us Back - Katie Herzig
but if you disappear you'll still hear when my heart hits the ground.
Little Joy - The Chord and the Fawn
dying happens all the time. smiling in the warm sunshine.
Steamroller - Phoebe Bridgers
you're the feeling i get when i'm feeling fine.
In The Absence of Everything, I Promise to Keep You Warm - Flatsound
i'll throw everything i have into the flames just to make it last.
Two - Sleeping at Last
i just want to love you, to love you, to love you well.
Love’s Refrain - Julie Byrne, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma
it's so like me to breathe you, to be lost to desire.
Follow You Into the Dark - Miya Folick cover of Death Cab for Cutie
if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark.
Blue - Shannon Lay
don't be sad my love. i won't always be here, but i will love you till my hair turns blue.
Funeral Singers - Sylvan Esso
all my friends are funeral singers, funeral singers, wailing.
Work Song - Hozier
no grave can hold my body down. i'll crawl home to her.
Graceland Too - Phoebe Bridgers
and i knew then i would do anything you want me to. i would do anything for you
We Are Nobody Else - Lady Lamb
there's nothing lovelier than your laughter, my friend. and there is nothing left i need, i have everything.
Strawberry Blonde - Mitski
all I need, darling, is a life in your shape. i picture it soft and i ache.
Comfort - Julia Jacklin
are you thinking of me too? i was so happy all those years with you.
The Man Who Sees Tomorrow - Uwade
life is warm and then it's cold and time forgives the past. i just hope the love we shared can resurrect the last.
Elise - The Greeting Committee
and all of it spent in the sheets you kick to the end of the bed i make every morning, with your side a bit of a mess.
A Love of Some Kind - Adrianne Lenker
i don't have much, but what i've got is something i can give. and i've found that on your own is no good way to live.
Grey's Anatomy AU for @dcves (thank u jen for letting me be stupid)
(TW medical stuff, injury) LAST ONE OF THE MEME WEEK FOLKS.
Dr. Young puts them on scut.
Roje doesn't care much for Dr. Young, but he's got a year of experience over them and that means a lot when you're at the bottom of the surgical food chain. Roje grits his teeth. Does what he's told. Waits for the day that he doesn't have to answer to him anymore. It's not their fault they know his father. That he likes them better than he liked the person his son became. Dr. Young probably knows that too. But it hasn't helped his near constant irritation with Roje in the slightest.
That's fine. Roje likes scut. Scut is quiet. No one dies. They sit in a room with one of the coma patients ( Roje likes to keep them company) and they sort through files. Machines whirr and beep. Outside, it rains.
A hospital, they've learned, is like a big organism. It's nothing but interlocking moving parts and the only way to survive it is to learn how it works. Scut is good for that kind of thing. You can learn a lot about a person from how they do their paperwork.
Take this chart for example. It opens with Dr. Young's neat, cramped writing. Blue pen, he carries one in his pocket at all times. He pressed so hard into the paper at points that he nearly ripped it. That's how Roje knows even before he flips the page that he was seeing this patient with Dr. Lykaois. The next two forms are filled out in almost illegible scrawl. Dr. Lykaois writes so fast at times that the pen simply leaves the paper and doesn't come back down. There's blood on the corner of the page. He hadn't even bothered to take off his gloves. If Roje’s being honest, he’s lucky the man even bothered to chart at all. They carefully transcribe what they can read into a new page. The other one gets set aside to be shredded and dumped into a biohazard bin.
Transcription is necessary seeing as half the doctors at this hospital never actually learned to write, just cut. Some don’t have the luxury of time to sit and write neat, organized patient notes. They end up having to rewrite about half the charts from Dr. Ahn on any given day. She is probably the coolest resident and person Roje’s ever met. She's already aiming to specialize as a trauma surgeon and unlike Dr. Lykaois, there's an excuse for the rushed quality of her notes and little spatters of blood throughout. She rotates through the trauma bay every week. Stitching people back together faster than they can come apart. In one of her notes, she’s stuck a post-it on an order for an x-ray she'd signed off on for Dr. Young. He's suspicious a patient might have a compound fracture they hadn't detected the first time around. "No shit dumbass," it says. "Try not to start killing this one until I'm there to clean up your mess."
When Roje re-orders the file, he leaves the note. Dr. Young will be mad with him when he sees it but he's always mad at Roje. At least now it'll be for a real reason.
The next chart is clearly Dr. Stagg's. Roje knows that before they've even opened it up. As their top cardiothoracic attending, he's got a way of playing around with hearts. Roje’s not one for gossip, but he's pretty sure he can tell who Dr. Stagg’s currently with just by the smell of his notes. Dr. Partridge's perfume here. Nurse Frei's aftershave there. The whole file is odious. Dr. Stagg has been busy. The ripped page in the next file comes as no surprise then. It's Dr. Sydin’s patient. The date on the ripped page is the same day that Dr. Stagg and Nurse Frei came spilling out of a supply closet mid-something. No one can really agree on whether or not it was a fight or sex. Dr. Calderon has a running bet going. Roje abstained. He’s fairly sure it was both.
They smooth over the rip, carefully piecing the page back together with tape the same way they might suture an incision. When they find a blot in the bottom corner of the next page, a circle of blurred ink that looks like something wet fell there just as Dr. Sydin was writing, well, they rewrite the whole thing and replace it.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Roje looks up. They smile. “Hi Thea.”
“Young’s got you on scut again?”
“I mentioned one of his father’s procedures during rounds.”
“Ah, that’ll do it,” Thea steps into the room, eyeing the stack of files. “You’ve been busy. I’m almost kind of jealous. They’ve got me with Azevedo again.”
“Isa’s nice,” Roje says, patiently. The words come out almost on automatic now. They’ve said this at least a dozen times before.
Thea nods, mouthing along to what he says next. “If I give her a chance, yeah, yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in extending an olive branch Roje.”
Roje nods. The second thing they learned at this hospital is that sometimes, people just like to hate each other. There’s nothing to be done about that.
“Anyway,” Thea goes on. “I came here for a reason.” She steps inside the room fully, laying a hand across the file. “Müller needs a pair of hands.”
“What?” Roje says slowly, brightening a little at the mention of Dr. Müller. He’s one of the few residents that’s been known to let interns do more than suction.
“Lykaois mishandled a scalpel. Stabbed him in the hand. He needs someone to help him with resettings and relocations. He said he’s looking for someone with strong hands, for when they have to pop the bones back into place.”
Roje closes the file they’re working on. They stand up.
“I’d get moving if I were you. I heard Badr’s on the prowl. Nurse Rasmus put him on it. Fei's out for blood too."
That’s got Roje moving. Badr and Fei are notorious for their ability to scoop the best cases out from even the most cautious intern. If they want this case, they'll have to be fast.
"I thought Rasmus was on peds?" They ask, shrugging on their white coat.
"I did too, but they've got a way of getting around here."
Roje nods, mouth thinning. No one's quite sure why Lili has such a soft spot for Badr. All the other interns know is that it gives him a leg up on getting to the best open cases first. When nurse Rasmus had officially transferred over to peds full time last month, the entire locker room had let out a collective breath of relief.
They lied a little before, about scut. They do enjoy it, really. It’s easy, calm work. But they love surgery so much more. Why else would they be here at Beast-Crow Memorial Hospital?
"Don't worry," Thea says, smirking. "When Fei asked me where Müller was I gave her the wrong floor. Told Badr she already got the job when he came asking. They'll be busy for a couple minutes sorting that out."
"Did you tell the others?"
Thea rolls her eyes. "Pan's on plastics again. Rachel decided to follow her for the day so she could...do that thing she does with Dr. Nour and Eres, well I'm pretty sure he thinks ortho's beneath him." Her nose wrinkles. "Unless he gets to watch Stagg repair someone's beating heart I don't think he'll be interested."
"You're not going to try for yourself?"
Thea grins a little, fingers tapping at the plastic cover of a chart. "I would, but I've got a bunch of scut to do."
"Thea," Roje says.
Thea waves them off. "You basically saved my life last month when you helped with that trauma case under Ahn. Kept Azevedo off my back too. I owe you."
"No you don't. I did that because I'm your friend."
"And I'm doing this because you're mine," Thea says, flipping open a chart. "Go."
They hug her then. A quick wrap of arms around her shoulders. “Thank you. Love you. See you at home.”
Thea snorts, watching as they start their long run down the hall. "I know."
At this point, I’m just gibbering. Jen, so glad ur thing went well. Here’s what basically amounts to fanfiction. Sorry about all the OOC UuU;.
(as a note, this is all just imaginary and not plotted)
Four times Roje touched Eres and one time Eres touched Roje.
(TW death, injury, blood)
The first time is more an act of utility than affection. Someone is shooting at them. Gunfire cracks like thunder. Bullets hit the wall behind them and dust and plaster shower down. Eres is running. He could be running faster. Roje grabs at him and pulls. They stumble outside, down streets, through alleys and eventually the sound of gunfire fades away behind them.
Roje and Eres flop against a brick wall, gasping for breath.
"Well that was exciting," Eres says between gulps of air. In all their time working together, this is the most disheveled he's ever looked.
Roje pulls in controlled breaths through his nose. "I'd very much like it if we didn't have to do that again."
"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Eres says. "I would have been fine."
"I know," Roje replies. "But I wanted to."
When Eres doesn't respond, Roje says, "We should get moving. Thea's waiting at the safehouse."
He moves to stand, only to find himself linked to Eres. Somewhere in the midst of the gunfire and the panic, they'd laced their fingers together, holding firm.
Roje stares at their joined hands like he's just discovered alien life. Eres, to his credit, remains slightly more composed. He politely disengages, easing his hand out of Roje’s.
"Another time," he tells them, demure. He winks.
Roje stares at him. "Do you have something in your eye?"
—
The next time is much more mundane. They’re casing a museum from the roof of a building across the street. The fire escape they use to scale it is rickety and treacherous and Roje turns to offer Eres a hand up without thinking.
Eres hesitates for only a moment before he reaches out, allowing Roje to pull him up. His hand is warm. Roje’s paying enough attention this time to register the lacework of scars along the back of his knuckles.
—
Roje wakes up a few miles south of Novae Terra. Thea’s got the radio on, volume low. Rachel’s using her fingers to drum along to it on the steering wheel. They don’t usually ride back together like this, but the heist had gone pear-shaped at the end. A quick, united getaway was the best option. Which meant cramming into Rachel’s car and driving until the target was nothing but a distant speck in the rearview mirror.
Roje looks to their left. Pan’s there, legs crossed, foot tapping She looks bored and vaguely resentful that she has to spend her time crammed into the back of Rachel’s car. Safe and fine then. Roje looks to their left and-
Oh. That makes sense. How comfortable they were. The fact that the world was sitting at a slight diagonal.
“Sorry,” They tell Eres, righting themself so they’re not leaning against him anymore.
Eres slides his attention away from the scenery to Roje’s face. They watch his pupils move down then back up. They’re not sure what Eres is searching for in that moment, but whatever it is, he seems satisfied.
“It’s fine,” he says, turning back to the window, chin propped on his hand.
“Did I drool on you?
“No.”
—
“It will heal Roje, it always does.”
“It’s bleeding now.”
It's another job. Another place they're not supposed to be. There was a first aid kit in the bathroom inside. They hadn’t even had a chance to move before Eres had punched through the window in their way. “We could have used something else, you know.”
“But this was so much faster,” Eres lilts, tone light. It turns into a hiss when Roje dumps alcohol over lacerations on his knuckles. They’re already looking better than they did a few minutes ago. Now they won’t be so vulnerable to infection.
“See,” Eres chides through gritted teeth. “Better already.”
“Still looks like it hurts,” Roje dabs away the blood, achingly careful.
"It does," Eres admits, slowly. "Hardly matters now."
"Matters to me," Roje says, smoothing his thumb over a fresh new scar. Even after the cuts have knit themselves together, Eres doesn’t pull away.
—
Being reborn isn't an easy or pleasant experience. It’s exhausting. Embarrassing. Painful. Every machine in the factory switches on at once and Roje is forced awake, coughing and blinking and renewed. Everything hurts. Thinking returns in pieces.
They remember the gun. The bullet wound. Pan-
"Welcome back," Eres says. His voice is rough. He sounds tired.
Roje looks at him, the world pulls slowly into focus. Thea’s asleep at their side. Pan with her head on his leg. No blood on her. No bullet wound. Good. Rachel is balled up tight at the foot of the mattress. Someone's tucked a blanket over her. Roje looks at Eres.
"We agreed to take shifts, until you woke up," he explains, running a hand over his face. There's blood all over him. Roje knows some of it is theirs.
"Fox?" Roje asks.
Eres shakes his head. "Got away."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"No its-" Roje looks around the room. Thea, Rachel, and Pan all curled around them. Eres slumped against the wall. They knew he would come back, and yet, here they are. "It's not. You didn't need to stay. I would have been fine. I-"
"Roje," Eres cuts him off. His voice is still hushed, mindful of the others, but the tone has changed. It's firmer now. The way he talks when he wants to be listened to. “We knew that. But we wanted to.”
Roje blinks. Weeping has never come naturally to them. It doesn’t now. They’re in a dark room on a mattress soaked with their own blood, surrounded by people that stayed.
They’re the happiest they’ve been in a very long time.
It’s not like them to ask, to impose. Or rather, it wasn’t like them before. He’s changing. He can feel it. Their heart only restarted a few minutes ago and it’s already full to the point of bursting. Everyone else is beside them. Eres is entirely too far away.
They reach out, “C’mere?”
Eres’s eyes narrow. Roje doesn’t stop reaching. He sighs, pushes himself up and shuffles to the bed. “Only because you die- woaw, hey!”
He’s saying something now. Complaining about his ruined suit. About the indignity of getting pulled into a bloody puppy pile. Roje tugs Eres into place and closes their eyes. They hum as his hand settles in their hair. They fall sleep, lulled by the sound of Eres’s voice and the insistent, steady beat of his heart.
MOURN ME. for @kasimirfrei & @ofrooks // freedom comes at a cost, you know this. why do you keep paying the prize when it might not be worth it? // trigger warning for grief, mentions of death.
They don’t have graves. Maybe it has something to do with the way the Sectatores view death or maybe it’s just what the survivors deserve. No place to return to, when they want to give shape to their grief. No physical reminder of what you’ve lost. Of what they made themselves lose. No ash, no dust, no bones — nothing but the gaping hole in a chest, organ removed, frostbite.
This is how it was always destined to be. Fate demanded that there could be one survivor, one free corvid and in this version of the story, the chosen one is Mateo — but is this freedom? Why does that concept – which really is just that: a concept, a vague idea, a promise that is never kept – always come at the steep prize of other people’s lives? Besides, isn’t it in death that one reaches complete freedom? Untethered, let loose, no longer tied down by earthly things like gravity and responsibility.
theartofmadeline
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